Resurrection (16 page)

He chuckled, a cold, pretentious chuckle, making me feel even more useless, and sheathed his blade. “They were after my sword.” He gestured to the re-dead ghouls. He seemed truly offended.

I did the math. “Undead, plus Longinus, plus an attempt to steal a sword made from Longinus’s spear, all seems to equal Reven.” I hoped I was wrong. If not, it would seriously hamper my chances of sleeping with Karra if I had to kill her master.

“There are still too many unknowns to make that leap for certain, but yeah, it does seem to lean that direction. With Reven being the only actor we know of who has the ability to raise the dead, I’d say he’s trying to stack the deck in his favor as much as possible. Longinus reunited with his weapon would be quite formidable.”

Forget what I said earlier. Katon was the new recipient of The Understatement of the Year award.

Frustrated, I wandered over to the edge of the monument, staring off at the desert below. Miles and miles of brown and muted yellows stretched out before my eyes, broken into giant rectangles by the harsh lines of fences that divided the ranch properties that spanned the area. I followed the dark stripe of a road and spotted where the highway met the private, narrow lanes.

At their union, I saw the Cattle King restaurant, a high-dollar steak joint built to capitalize on the owner’s monopoly of the region’s cattle ranches. Suddenly thinking of a t-bone, my mouth watered while my brain swirled, a half-formed thought bubbling up out of the muck.

“It can’t be that easy, can it?” I asked, mostly to myself.

Katon moved to my side. “What?”

My mind shuddered, the gears grinding as it struggled to engage. “The ranches.”

No doubt impressed by my ability to speak coherently, Katon stared at me like one would a toddler, waiting for me to put it all together into words that made sense.

“Michael said he saw the capital letter ‘B’ three times in Chatterbox’s mind.” I pointed down toward the steakhouse, my finger trailing off to the open fields a little ways beyond it. “The Triple B Ranch.”

Katon narrowed his eyes and let them follow the direction of my finger. He was quiet for a moment, no doubt deciding whether my suggestion was brilliant or bat shit stupid. “You might be right.”

The judges say, “Brilliant.”

“It might just be coincidence but it can’t hurt—much—to check it out. Besides, it’s all we’ve got. We’re still in the dark here.”

Right then, someone made me a liar.

Way off in the distance, the sky lit up in deep reds and searing yellows layered in black, a mushroom cloud of fiery hell erupting. The ground rumbled as a booming crack reverberated through the air, the clouds wavering before my eyes. I felt the pressure build against my ringing ears as I stared off toward the conflagration.

“That’s Old Town!” I sputtered as I watched raging flash fires spring up in the vicinity of what appeared to be Fiesta Street.

Katon, the glow reflected in his wide eyes, nodded solemnly. “We’ve got to get down there.”

Certain I knew who was responsible, I hesitated to agree as he put the call into Rahim.

I climbed down the hill and retrieved my gun, my eyes staring off into the distance as Old Town burned, the fires spreading through the slums and warehouses, consuming each with passion. Black smoke billowed up while licks of flames illuminated the blackness. It was like a war zone, a battlefield upon which Hell was unleashed. It wasn’t someplace I wanted to be. Even more so, I certainly didn’t want to confront the architect of its destruction.

Baalth.

Chapter Thirteen

Minutes later, Katon and I arrived in Old Town, Rahim with us. I’d asked the wizard not to come, his unhealed injuries a possible liability to his safety, but stubborn as always, he came anyway. Who was I to tell him no?

We arrived just off Fiesta Street, at the edge of the desert where tiny fires danced in the brush. Even from where we stood, the heat from the roaring flames was like sticking your face in a crematory. I felt my skin drying as I stood there, the moisture sucked right out of it. My cheeks felt like hard plastic with three day stubble, the scratches from the ghoul burning. Katon and Rahim grimaced, the heat getting even to them, as we surveyed the scene. Judging by the looks on their faces, they were thinking the same thing I was.

This was Hell.

As we decided which way to go, a cool breeze sprung up and swirled around us, shielding us from the brunt of the heat. I glanced to Rahim and saw his eyes fluttering with a bright red. Tiny droplets of sweat glistened on his forehead.

“Is that safe?”

He nodded. “It’s nothing that will tax me too seriously, rest assured.” There was sarcasm in his voice, but I could see his temple throbbing. It wasn’t as easy as he was trying to pass it off as.

“It’s rough getting old, huh?” My foot in mouth disease came out of remission.

He glared at me, but there was an obvious, and saddened, look of concession on his face. He knew his best days were past and it was hard for him to accept that. Strong, independent, and willful, Rahim had defied time and aged with a grace few mortals will ever know. Asmoday’s minion had taken all that away from him.

While my uncle’s blood was able to repair his injured spine and nerves, it wasn’t meant for humans. We’d taken a chance when I gave it to Rahim and he benefited more than we could have ever hoped. The truth was, however, Rahim was never gonna be the same man he was before his spine was shattered. We understood that, but worse for the knowledge, Rahim understood it. He understood it all too well. And like any fighter who’d lived by the strength of his hands, the speed of his body, and the sharpness of his wit, it was heart rending to see the man once he realized those days were gone.

Rather than poke the wound further, I gave him a weak smile to show I empathized, then turned to find a clear route through the swirling miasma of flames. It was easier said than done.

Whatever had happened, ignoring the obvious answer, set the neighborhood ablaze with arcane fire. Not restricted to consuming only the normally combustible materials, magical fire burned everything. Licks of flame crept up the side of stone buildings, searing brick and melting mortar. Glass windows dripped and ran down the walls in sparkling waterfalls. The asphalt beneath our feet was a pool of black slag. It was like walking through stinky, warm chocolate pudding.

I wouldn’t be licking that spoon.

Fiesta Street was a war zone. Chunks of buildings were missing, blasted into rubble. Pockmarks riddled the sidewalks and streets, where the sludge had yet to ooze over and fill in. Body parts lay everywhere, flickering with tiny fire lights, the air thick with the scent of burnt flesh and hair.

For six blocks we walked, dodging falling remnants and glass rain, doing our best to keep our eyes off the carnage scattered about us. There was nothing we could do for the dead. For the survivors, we could only hope they didn’t live long.

A little ways in, we knew we’d reached ground zero. All the buildings for two blocks were blasted away in a circle, nothing but ruined foundations left to mark where they once stood. The ground had been seared by heat so hot, it had turned to glass. Black shards, like jagged puzzle pieces, covered the area, reflecting fiery shimmers. In the center of it all, on his knees naked, his reddened flesh steaming, was Baalth.

I felt the tension in Rahim amp up, my senses pricking to the sudden rise in magical energy. With a hand raised to forestall any pre-emptive attack, I headed toward the demon lieutenant, placing myself between him and the wizard. It wasn’t someplace I wanted to be, but I’d seen the fury in Baalth’s eyes, felt the barely restrained power that seeped from his pores, seeking a way out. Now was not the time to provoke the beast.

Funny thing, life. Who’d have thought I’d be the least likely to set Baalth off?

Doing nothing to hide my presence, I walked toward him, my footsteps crunching. He didn’t move. My teeth grinding together, I took a few more steps, stopping when I was about ten feet away.

“Hey, big guy.” I tried to sound as innocuous as possible.

His head rose and his narrow gaze met mine. It took everything I had not to shit myself.

A flurry of obsidian shadows whirled behinds his eyes, sparks of angry red flaring in waves. His cheeks were sunken and his upper lip was curled, his teeth glaring out at me in a snarl. His temples throbbed as he stared through me, a low rumbling shaking the ground.

If I had any doubt he’d been the cause of the destruction, the look on his face sent it scampering away like a Chihuahua kicked in the ass.

Against the advice of the screaming voices in my head, I raised my hands and moved closer. Baalth’s gaze never wavered, but I could see his body tensing, readying to act. Fully aware of what he was capable of, my courage took a dump. I dropped down to my knees fast, while still about five feet away.

“What happened?”

He looked like he wanted to kill me. Though that wasn’t exactly something new, I was hoping he wouldn’t actually go through with it. While my life wasn’t all pussies and cream, I was kinda attached to it. If I was gonna die, I could think of a million better ways to go out than being burned to a cinder by a psychotic demon.

After a few tense moments, me not daring to breathe, his chin dropped and a visible shiver ran up his body. I felt my heart start up again.

“He’s taken them,” he told me, his voice sounding like burning coals. Once more his fists clenched tight, bone white standing out against reddened flesh.

“Who?”

A palpable wave of rage preceded his answer. “Reven.” His voice was little more than a whisper, but that one word spewed a tsunami of venom. “He’s taken my men.”

“Poe and Marcus?” While it explained the big boom, it didn’t make much sense. Then again, I found myself swallowing what Karra had told me as if it were fact. It was messing with my judgment, what little there was.

“McConnell as well.” He grunted, his teeth bared. “They retrieved the wizard from your people and were returning him to me.” He stood, a leviathan rising from a sea of anger. Flickers of crimson energy crackled at his hands. His eyes raged. “Here in my own domain, Reven’s ghouls took my men from me and I was too late to stop them.” He scanned the conflagration, his trembling hand on his chest. “From
me
.
Here
.”

The ground thundered as I got to my feet. “Easy, Baalth. Destroying everything you’ve worked to build isn’t gonna bring them back.”

He looked ready to lose it. I couldn’t blame him. Matter of fact, I was getting a little pissed myself. I wanted to trust Karra, to believe that Reven had loftier goals than how they appeared on the surface. Yet, at every corner, I stumbled upon something that only pointed toward his guilt. I was half-tempted to stir the pot and sic Baalth after Reven. It was no less than he probably deserved. The only thing keeping me from doing it was the thought Baalth would kill Karra before I got a chance to see her boobs.

Oh, and he’d destroy the world while he was at it. I guess that’s important too.

Torn, I glanced up at him as tiny surges of shimmering energy leapt from his swinging hands and danced in the air before him. I could feel their power tickle the hairs on my arms . It was like standing in the wake of a lightning bolt. It was unsettling, to say the least.

He turned and met my eyes and nodded shallow. “I can’t…” He swallowed hard, as if debating what he was willing to say. He cast a furtive glance at Rahim and Katon, then stood and stepped close so only I could hear. “I can’t control it.”

A bit uncertain of what he meant, I asked for clarification. “Can’t control what?”

He drew himself up, hesitation still etched on his face. “My magic.” He shook, rumbles echoing through the earth. “A spark turns into a blaze, a blaze into an inferno. It fights to be free. It will not be denied.”

The helplessness I heard in his voice stabbed me in the chest. I’d never once, in all my hundreds of years knowing him, ever seen Baalth as anything other than in control. Tempered by the fury of Hell and the brutality of the battlefield, he was a warrior to the marrow. He faced death boldly, never once turning a cheek as he stood toe-to-toe against the Angelic Choir. He’d decried God, laying siege to the Pearly Gates themselves without fear. Yet there he was, alone, more powerful than any being in existence, and all I could see was misery draping him like a funeral shroud.

Though I probably should have filed that moment away, saving it for future blackmail, I couldn’t help but feel for the guy. He’d realized his dreams only to find they were made of shit and tears.

I could relate.

Before my brain could tell my mouth to fuck off and mind its own business, it dug a hole for me. “I’ll find them.”

He looked at me wide-eyed. If I could have seen my face, it probably looked the exact same as his: surprised.

“Would you?” Hope blossomed in his eyes, though it made him no less imposing. The earth rumbled once more, but its growl was somewhat subdued.

Painted into a corner by my goody two-shoes tongue, I nodded. There wasn’t anything else I could do. Besides, I really couldn’t have Baalth rampaging around like Godzilla, burning the city down. Though I really wasn’t all that concerned about Marcus or The Gray—they could both go suck the business end of a bazooka—I felt a pang of pity for Poe. While we were on opposite sides of the fence, he’d earned my respect.