"It's better to be on my right hand, than in my path. Remember that, Ezekiel." He thought about it for a
while as he stirred his coffee. It made sense, he
guessed. "What can I call you?" The Devil frowned under his wide-brimmed hat. "Call me?" "Yeah. You must have a
name. Thinking about it, you've probably got lots. Give
me one." "...Satan?" Ezekiel gazed at the human
form sitting opposite him. 'Satan' conjured up memories
of fire and pain, screams of the dead, horns and a
pointed tail, and a laugh that could set heaven aflame.
Somehow the white cotton shirt, black jeans and fedora
didn't fit. He shook his head. "It doesn't suit you." The devil stared back at
him. "What?" Zeke picked up his coffee
mug, turning it in his hands so that the handle pointed
outwards and his warm fingers could wrap around the
cheap ceramic. "It's not you, you're not a 'Satan'." "I'm the ruler of hell, the
evil one. I am the Devil!" "I know. But up here...
it's just not you. Give me another." 'Satan' looked confused for
a moment, before he caught on. He sighed. "Lucifer?" Frustrated by his servant's laid-back attitude, the devil sat forward. "Are we taking the day off?" The ex-detective graced his
boss with a dirty look as he continued to drink. "Don't
you have better things to do with your mornings than to
watch me eat breakfast?" Lucifer seemed to think
that over. "There are other things I could be doing, I
suppose. That's the great thing about eternity, you have
all the time in the world." Zeke gave the other a
'whatcha gonna do' look. "Not a lot of use when you're
dead." "Um." The devil picked up
the salt shaker and turned it in his fingers. Holding it
up, he watched as the sunshine through the window
splintered
in the cheap glass and threw sharp beams of brightness
over his face and
neck. Ezekiel stared at him. In these few months he had
been on earth, he
could have sworn that the immortal evil of the ruler of
hell was becoming
tempered. In the bowels of the fiery underworld he
commanded, Lucifer caused
more suffering than was imaginable. He cast souls into
molten pits filled
with their own mortal nightmares, performed unspeakable
acts on unwilling
subjects, brought forth screams of agony for the
enjoyment of his own brand
of music. Yet recently his acts had been subdued.
Half-opening condiment
jars in the cafes in which Zeke ate and the devil
watched. Tying together
the shoe-laces of the homeless who slept in the streets.
Dropping bugs into
bags of sweets as he passed children playing, blissfully
unaware of the malevolence
near by. Lucifer put down the salt
shaker and folded his arms on the table as he looked up
at his unwilling servant. "May I tell you a story?" Ezekiel shook his head in
disbelief and picked up his fork. "All I ask is that I
am allowed to finish my breakfast." "Please, go ahead. I'll
talk, you listen." Zeke took up his knife and
sliced through the cold toast under the fried yellow and
white splatter than had once been an egg. "There are those who I
cannot touch. Immortals not bound to heaven or hell, but
to earth. They have eternal life, without fear of death
or decease or judgement. Their curse is to live an
unspeakable existence, unable to walk in the sunlight,
living only on the life blood of the mortals whose dying
world they share." Ezekiel looked up. This
wasn't the devil's usual tone. "You sound like a story
teller trying to frighten children." "Are you going to listen or
mock me?" Zeke waved an uncaring
hand. "No, go on. Please." Lucifer rolled his borrowed
eyes heavenward. Stone had been like this ever since
that annoying individual had found him a near-constant
supply of 'Reggie' bars. Idly, the devil wondered if it
could be considered a valid reason for sending the
mortal straight to hell when his time came. He decided
probably not. He tried to remember where he'd been in
his tale. "Two such creatures once roamed this earth.
One was a tall, proud man, once a general in the Roman
armies, he was made immortal by an unknown soldier on a
battlefield. Yet this soldier was a loner. He had made
this one child of darkness to live, for the thousands
who lay dying around them. He gave his new son of blood
a few terse instructions and then left him." Zeke was watching him now,
having stilled in his eating he actually looked
attentive. "For a thousand years he
walked over the earth, initially seeking out others of
his kind, and later actively avoiding them as he found
they bored him for the most part. Finally, he found a
son. One thirteenth century evening in London he
happened on a young man, beaten so badly he would surely
die, lying in a dank alley where his attacker had left
him." Lucifer smiled and
continued. "He could almost taste the young one's
need for revenge. And so he brought him across, holding
him as the blood
healed all his wounds, and his blond beauty shone
through the dirt. They
soon became lovers, dancing through the endless dark
hours they shared,
feeding on the mortals that crossed their paths, living
in high society,
running with the night. For seven hundred years they
travelled the globe,
watching the world as it changed, never leaving one
another for fear the
separation would break their cold hearts." Zeke stared at him, and when
it became clear that Lucifer was not going to continue,
he urged him on. "What happened?" Pleased with his demon
servant's attentiveness, he went on. "One night, only a
few years ago, a hunter of their kind happened upon them
in a darkened alley. As they fed from one another in the
throes of desperate love making, the hunter staked them
both, killing them as they tried to comfort one another
in their final moments." The two sat staring at one
another for a few seconds; Lucifer amazed at the
continued interest being shown, and Ezekiel wondering
where this little aside was going. Finally the devil sat
back. "They were brought to me, of course. I was...
taken with them, with their story. Two such as I, who
killed for pleasure, who lived in the darkness that
mortals cannot face. They fascinated me. They... showed
me things, taught even the devil himself some new
tricks. And in return, I allowed them to remain together
in hell as they had done for almost a century on earth." Zeke watched his boss, saw
the odd look in his eyes. "Why are you telling me this?"
Yet his voice remained low, gentle somehow. He wasn't
sure why. "They both escaped.
But...." "But?" It was the first time -
Zeke realised - that he had actually seen the devil look
guilty. "Higher powers knew the numbers. You had to
bring home 113. I had to draw 113 runes on your body in
my blood." Ezekiel nodded with the
patient of a parent. "I know all this, boss,
we've been through it about a thousand times already." "I allowed two more to
escape, while no one was looking." Zeke just stared. And then
he smiled. And then he opened his mouth and laughed.
"You broke your own rules! Why?" "I...." The demon in human form
wiped his tearing eyes. As his laughter faded, he could
have sworn he saw the devil blush. "You let the two
vampires go. You're going to allow them to stay free."
An excited light lit the blue
eyes of the Devil's chosen body. "No one can ever touch
them again. They're
immortal, eternally. You should have seen them, Ezekiel.
They knew everything
about exquisite pleasure and soul-searing pain. Together
they could light
sparks in the soul and keep the embers burning for
hours, days, holding
to the top of a precipice none have known before." Zeke shook his head,
bemused. "Look at you! You're acting like a love-stuck
teenager." In hell, the comment would surely have earned
him fifty lashes. Up here it merely resulted in a sharp
kick to the shin. All he could do was grin. All the
devil could do, by the look of him, was scowl. Finally,
Ezekiel relented. "Okay, okay. So why bother telling me.
This isn't the confessional, Lucifer, and I doubt they'd
allow you in if it was, you'd be there for years." The devil sighed inwardly,
annoyed by his own seeming lack of judgement and the
casual regard his detective showed him now. Yet he found
himself unwilling to punish severely. He wondered what
that meant. "I'm telling you this because I believe one
of the two that I released has finally turned up."
From nowhere, the morning paper materialised before
Zeke's eyes, dropping to the table in an instant.
Ezekiel was glad he'd finished eating. He scanned the
headline. 'Two Die In Occult
Worship.' "You couldn't have released
two people sent to hell for trampling flowers or
standing on insects?" "I thought they were both
lawyers. The other one was, you can leave him until last
if you want, he won't be doing anyone any physical harm.
This one took advantage of the situation." "Will there ever be a time
you don't surprise me? Someone took advantage of the
Devil? The ruler of hell, the personification of evil,
the great...." Lucifer kicked him again.
"Thank you. Yes. I was in a hurry." Ezekiel chuckled, picking up
his coffee mug and reading the rest of the article as he
tried to drink the rapidly cooling liquid. When his
expression soured at the first mouthful, he felt the
Devil lean forward. Lifting his head, he watched as his
boss took the mug from him and wrapped his own, slim
hands around it. A moment later, he handed the drink
back to his detective. The coffee was hot again, as if
it had just been poured. Zeke smiled in surprise. "Thank
you." The Devil shrugged and
stood. "Be careful with this one. He will know you. He
will know how to rid himself of you." Zeke watched his boss leave
using the door of the caf�, and then vanish into thin
air. He'd been bemused by the Devil's behaviour while
they had been up here. His powers were limited in his
human form and he seemed... different. Tempered had
fitted quite well as a description. Now and again his
anger would flare in those fiery eyes, for all the right
reasons, and Zeke would suffer momentarily. But he'd
known pain. He'd been in hell fifteen years after all.
Had Lucifer been watching him all that time? Why had he
chosen him? He chased the disturbing thoughts from his
mind and turned his attention back to the paper. Maybe
good deeds between demons were just evil helping out
evil. Maybe that was why he now held a mug of steaming
hot coffee. Freshly brewed. Nothing like the black tar
they served in this place. *** Talking to people. Detective
work was all about talking to the right people and
asking the right questions. Today he didn't feel like
talking to people. It was one of his strengths, he
decided, being polite, attentive and kind when he needed
to be, even when he wasn't in the mood. But he couldn't
shake the Devil's words from his head. Why had he told
him all that he had? And why had he warned him about
this particular wayward demon? It truly wasn't in the
Devil's nature to offer information without there being
a price. By lunch-time Ezekiel had
found five witnesses, all of whom had been at the
meeting of occultists last night, all of whom swore that
the two men died of heart attacks; one after watching
the other die in his arms. They were both elderly men -
the paper confirmed - and for some reason Zeke expected
the post-mortem to come to the same conclusion; natural
causes. Officially, the case would be dead in the water
by this time tomorrow. Yet the Devil hadn't seemed
to be kidding around. He had sounded serious, possibly
more serious than Ezekiel had ever known him. So what
was he missing? Was it just coincidence that two men
died of heart attacks so close together? He sat down on
the bottom step of the house belonging to his last
witness. He realised he felt hungry again. This demon
chasing was hard work, but when had he developed
mealtimes? "It's a puzzle, isn't it?" The Devil's sudden and
usually unwelcome visits had ceased to disturb or
surprise him. Now and again it was even good to talk
with someone who knew what he was. At least he could be
himself. And there was some kind of
warmth between them. He had unwittingly begun to settle
in Lucifer's company,
playfully mocking him when he banged on about this and
that, laughing sometimes
at his jokes, listening to his stories.... "The
newspaper headline was wrong.
Those two men died of natural causes - old age." The Devil's eyes widened in
question. "But did the natural causes occur naturally?"
Another clue. Ezekiel
couldn't understand it. He looked across at his
companion and it struck him. "This one's your
responsibility, isn't it? Ash
didn't instigate this one's escape; you did, to allow
your precious vampires freedom. You showed mercy on
them, and you released this monster on to earth. And if
He ever found out...." "Don't." Zeke stopped dead
at the startling desperation underlying the single word.
For a moment, he really looked at the devil, and he saw
there a sadness he had not expected to see in a thousand
years, had not seen before and knew he probably wouldn't
see again. A second later it was gone, the
sly, malicious creature he was used to returned. "Yes,
this one is my responsibility. Your responsibility now,
Ezekiel, because that's your job. That's what I'm paying
you for." "Does this job come with a
life insurance and health care package?" It was strange, the things
that could send the ruler of hell into a rage. He leapt
from the step, turning to spit his next words into
Ezekiel's face. "Very funny." He crouched down, his face
inches from the other demon's, his hot breath touching
the other's lips. "This isn't a joke. This isn't some
idiot mortal playing god. This one is ancient, he knows
all the old ways
of black magic and he knows how to use them. This isn't
tarot cards and scented candles. This one. Is. Real." One moment Ezekiel was
staring into the burning embers of hell. The next, he
was looking over the street, alone. He shook his head
and sighed. Maybe if Lucifer actually told him things
that were useful, instead of flying off into a rage at
the smallest comment, they would rid the earth of this
real monster just that little bit faster. The smell of a
Chinese restaurant caught his senses, and he decided it
was time for some food. *** Kanundra lifted the knife
from the bloodied form slumped across the table before
him. "You will worship," he murmured, a smile in his
voice. It surprised him how easily the mortals of this
age followed his word, his instruction. As if life in
these modern times had sucked the soul from them
already, and they were just searching for a way in which
to die. He did not know to where his
victims - his sacrifices - went. Heaven or hell. It had
not been a surprise to him when he had found himself
standing before the Devil so many hundreds of years
before. It had been an honour. After worshipping the
darkness for most of his life, he had expected to go to
hell... and to spend his own eternity worshipped in his
turn, as he had worshipped in life. Only the devil is
worshipped in hell. The once beloved angel of heaven,
fallen from that glory to become the ruler of the heated
pit had toyed with him, seeking to torment him in reward
for a life's servitude. But now he was free. Others
would be killed, and some would take his place as the
jokers in Satan's court. It could not be helped. Before
he could enjoy this simple life, with its ancient
pleasures wrapped in modern ease and
a wide-spread, open-minded attitude, he had to destroy
the one Satan had
sent to return them all to his own dominion. Ezekiel
Stone. There had been rumours, of
course - around the time of the break-out - concerning
the devil and his 'favourites'. Ash herself had eluded
to it on many occasions as they lay together, the flames
lapping at them like tamed pets. Satan had no morals,
obviously, and his stranglehold on those he craved was
something all tenants of hell feared. Yet just after the
initial 113
escaped, and the devil had released he and the other
snivelling soul, the
name Ezekiel Stone had been on lips of all. He had never
been touched by
the Devil. It seemed that Morning Starr had at last
truly found his favourite. And could not bear to keep
him. *** Zeke fell back hard onto the
bug-ridden mattress, flinching involuntarily as the
bed's rusted springs gave under his weight. What he
wouldn't do for a pay-raise. He'd tried, but attempting
to appeal to the Devil's generous side was as useless as
trying to get ice-cream in hell. Well, in the mouth
anyway. Sighing, he opened his eyes and found himself
staring up at an ornately scribed verse painted in black
on to the ceiling above where he lay.
'for great indeed Ezekiel read the partial
stanza over again. It wasn't like the Devil to write,
usually he just dropped in to chat. As his eyes swept
over the lines, written in an ancient hand, he kept
expecting that perfectly tuned voice to start talking
before its speaker had even appeared. But the room
remained quiet, save for the passing cars in the road
outside, and the shouts of children playing on the
sidewalks. The afternoon sun dipped
down to stream its rays in through the grimy window
of his cheap apartment. He had to go back out, to
collect a copy of the post-mortem
report from the morgue. Sometimes the little tricks he'd
learnt in hell came
in useful, despite his determination not to use them too
much while he was
up on earth. He wanted to feel human, mortal and alive.
That was why he ate,
slept, took on the routines that people tied themselves
to and called life.
He glanced out of the
window. The verse on the ceiling could wait, although he
doubted Max would look kindly on the defacing of the
property. *** Manila envelope in hand,
Ezekiel wondered home. It was a gorgeous afternoon, and
he had already decided to eat out, even if that meant a
pizza in the park. As he walked, he noticed a bookstore
across the road from him, a single window stacked with
battered copies of all the classics. And a black wooden
door with a grubby sign declaring the shop, 'Open'. Zeke
crossed the road and pushed on the door. It was similar to many
bookstores, he guessed. In life he hadn't been much
of a reader if the material did not have at least a
tenuous connection to
the case. He comforted himself with the thought that the
only one who could
have written the quotation on his ceiling was his boss.
So it must be a clue.
When the old man behind the rapidly crumbling counter
asked if he could help,
Ezekiel requested a copy of John Milton's "Paradise
Lost." He excited the small doorway
with the book in a brown paper bag, and feeling somewhat
like a dirty old man coming out of a sex shop. He
decided he would prefer the inhabitants of this part of
the city to believe it was porn in the bag, and not
poetry. Back in his room, Ezekiel
dropped the morgue report onto the dresser and lay down
once again on his bed, re-reading the lines sketched
above and then opening the book. Inside the front cover,
there was an inscription, written in the same hand as
the verse on the ceiling.
'Whose wanton passions in the sacred Porch He smiled wanly. He was
becoming far too predictable, obviously. He had done
just what was expected of him. The line at the front, he
discovered, was taken out of context. Ezekiel had seen
visions, of Idols and of God. What was the Devil trying
to tell him this time? As he had asked his boss once, if
Lucifer wanted Zeke to catch these freaks, why wasn't he
being more helpful?! Leaning back and raising the
book so he could see it, Ezekiel started to
read. Four hours later, having
read the poem and the notes that the book's previous
owner had scrawled in the margins and between the lines,
Ezekiel was no closer to knowing why the Devil had left
that particular message for him. He had discovered the
lines within the poem, and had made a mental note of
what
the pencil scribbles read at that section.
'Morning Starr = Lucifer (light-bringer) the name
of Satan before his fall from Heaven; Zeke rubbed his eyes. He
needed a break, and the study of Milton at his most
prolific wasn't getting him any closer to finding his
next tortured soul. He dumped the book on the rumpled
sheets and picked up the morgue report. Yet something
made him reach back for the volume. Grabbing his jacket,
sliding the copy of Milton into one of the inner
pockets, he headed out for pizza in the park. *** The sunset kissed the
horizon while Ezekiel munched a slice of Garlic &
Mushroom pizza. He lay sprawled on his front in the
grass, supported on his
elbows, trying not to drop cheese and tomato topping on
to the pages of the
report. The medical examiner had indeed found that the
two old men had died
of natural causes. But there had also been unusual signs
of extreme stress
around the heart. As if, perhaps, the heart attack had
been induced somehow.
It would have happened without the extra pressure, but
maybe later, rather
than sooner. The Devil had been trying to
tell him something earlier on in the day, when they had
met on the last witness' doorstep. But his manner had
been so erratic, so explosive, that it had been
difficult to gauge any sense of how serious he was
being. Or how helpful. He thought back to that
lunch-time. Lucifer had gone nuts when Zeke had made
that playful quip about life insurance. And maybe that
had been pushing it a little, after the odd reaction he
had seen when he had mentioned Him finding out about the
escapees.... It suddenly occurred to Ezekiel that he
wasn't the only one with a past. Reaching into his jacket, he
pulled out his newly purchased poetry and opened it to
the place he'd marked by turning over the page corner.
He re-read the lines that had been written on his
ceiling, and the notes beside them. Why would the Devil
point him to a passage that gave away more about His
Evilness than about the demon he was hunting? "I didn't." Zeke congratulated himself
on not even flinching. Yet the tone of the usually
honeyed voice was low, sad. He looked across at his
companion. Lucifer was lying beside him, mirroring his
position, picking at the grass before him. He didn't
look at Zeke, even when he felt the other's intensely
curious regard. "Then who?" There was a hot sigh, and a
pause, and then, "His name is Kanundra." Ezekiel waited. But the
Devil seemed to be in a contemplative mood, and for some
reason, maybe the lovely evening or the calming
birdsong, he did not want to push at this moment. He
closed the book and left it on the grass between them.
Once again he reached for the morgue report and
continued to put together the clues he hoped would
eventually reveal the cause of the
two men's deaths. It was sometime later that
Lucifer opened the cover of the book and read the
inscription. "He's baiting you." The words were spoken
quietly. Zeke did not lift his head from the papers in
front of him, but he did shift his attention completely
to what the Devil had to say. "He wants you to go to
him." "He must know what I'll
do." "He believes he can beat
you. And I." Zeke gathered up the report
and closed the file, pushing it to one side. He folded
his arms before him and lay his head down, facing his
subdued boss. "Who is he?" The devil flipped the book
closed with one finger and returned to picking at the
grass. "We all have our crosses to bare, Ezekiel, even
me." Leaving a pause, in case
anything more was forthcoming (which it wasn't), Zeke
murmured, "You do want him returned, don't you?" "Yes." Finally, Lucifer
looked up at his companion and sighed. "He was a Devil
worshipper, many hundreds of years ago. He was a high
priest in
one of the first of my churches. I thought it a novel
idea. I went to a few
of the rituals, unseen of course. He was deadly serious
in his praise of
me. He scarified virgins to me, wrote incantations meant
to summon me, all
of which I ignored. One night, I took form in his room
and slipped into his dreams. I sodomized him." Zeke hid
his reaction well. "I wanted to see what would happen." "What did?" His voice was
harder than he would have liked, but the Devil did not
seem to notice. "He worshipped me more
enthusiastically than before. I took him many
times, and after each time he grew more obsessed. When
he died he of course
came to me, and he did so with pride. He expected to
stay at my side. As
I had used his body for my own pleasures in his life, he
expected me to
in death." Lucifer caught Zeke's knowing grimace. "I'd
had my fun. He was
dead and could do nothing more for me. So I sent him
deep into hell and
did not see him again." "Until you released him." "Yes. He got out before I
could stop him. He tricked me." Silence descended between
them. Zeke wanted to ask how any damned souls could
trick the Devil into allowing them their freedom. But he
didn't. It wasn't important now. He was out here
somewhere, killing people. Zeke was sure that the two
men were only the beginning. There may have been more in
the past, there would be more in the future. "Any idea why two old men?
If he used to kill virgins...." Lucifer pursed his lips and
shook his head. "I have no idea. He's a Satanist, an
occultist, a very old and knowledgeable one. And no
doubt he picked up some tricks. It's the age-old
problem, isn't it? Lock a group of thieves in a small
area together for long enough, and they could work out a
way to steal anything. Prisoners learn from one another.
But they're not supposed to get the chance to put it all
into practice up here." Again, the devil fell
silent, returning his attention to the unfortunate
blades of grass in front of him. Zeke lifted his head
and gazed down at the runes visible on his arms where he
had pushed his shirt-sleeves up. "Which one is he?" The devil glanced at him,
and for a moment Zeke thought he was not going to
answer. And then Lucifer pushed himself up, sitting with
his legs to one side. "He is on your left shoulder."
With gentle hands he pulled Zeke's loose, dark shirt
collar back, revealing the curve of his shoulder.
Tenderly, he ran a single, teasing finger pads over the
rune inscribed on Ezekiel's skin. As the fingertip touched his
flesh Zeke felt a stirring of passions deep with him, a
flash of warmth overwhelm him. He shivered slightly, his
eyes flickering closed for a moment as an involuntary
groan escaped him. He thought he felt the Devil smile. "Sorry." The apology surprised
Ezekiel. He glanced back, over his shoulder, as his
shirt was replaced and his companion hesitated, hand on
the human shoulder, for a moment before lying back down. Despite being unsure if he
really wanted to know, Zeke asked quietly, "What
was that?" "Contact. The tattoos are
scribed in my blood - such as it is. My essence is
probably a better description. You just felt the spark."
Zeke nodded, not really in understanding or acceptance.
He just wasn't sure if he wanted to know more.
Unconsciously, he pulled his shirt forward. "I don't
know how you're going to deal with this one," Lucifer
finally admitted. "Just be careful." He stood up, turning his
head before turning the rest of him away from his
detective and strolling off. Zeke watched as, a couple
of seconds later, he vanished from view. *** It was a hot, sticky night.
Ezekiel had found himself although feeling the heat,
actually liking it since his return. Yet this night, he
couldn't rest. Not that he needed to. He lay naked under
the blanket as the small hours of the morning ticked
passed. There had been no word of Kanundra since the two
old men. The local police had closed the case, ignoring
the coroner's report. Witchcraft never was one of the
NYPD's strengths. He did not know how to find
this soul. The Devil had said that he was being
baited, but how did sex lines of old verse lead him
anywhere? Something made
him sit up, turn on the light and pick up the battered
copy of Milton from
the bedside table. He started to read. As dawn approached, Zeke
dressed quickly and left his apartment. *** Ezekiel stood in the park,
close to where he had lain the evening before. As the
sunlight hit the trees behind him, he knew he was no
longer alone. "Has he told you... his
past, his pain, that which he hides from all
the rest yet which will consume him for all eternity?" Zeke turned his head a
fraction to look at the tall, cloaked figure that
approached him. "Kanundra." A smile lit the ancient
face. "So he told you about me! That pleases
me greatly. I was important to him once, as you are
now." Ezekiel allowed the ghost
of a smile to dance across his features. "I'm just doing
a job." "Of course." Kanundra moved to stand a
few feet in front of Ezekiel and slowly he lowered the
hood of his cape. The tall man's shadow fell over Zeke.
He was bald, his brilliant jade eyes set deep into his
skull, thin lips curved into an understanding smile,
although Zeke wasn't sure what of. "That which he
surveys... is not all that he desires, nor deserves. He
merely questioned. Curiosity, individuality, the ability
to think for yourself... these things were not allowed
in the hallowed kingdom." "If you're trying to
convince me that the Devil deserves our sympathy, you're
wasting your time. All I'm concerned with is returning
you all to
where you belong and getting out of here." "And you truly believe that
the master of lies would not deceive you
when the final soul is caught?" Ezekiel did not want to
answer that; he did not want to think about it. This was
his only chance. When the time came... he could only
hope that he would be released as their deal had agreed. Kanundra turned slightly,
staring up at the new dawn. "'Morning Starr' - it's a
beautiful name, is it not? 'Lucifer', 'Luciel', 'Lucien'
- all his names mean 'bringer of light'. Ironic, isn't
it, that all he has ever received is darkness and
hatred?" "If you feel so much...
adoration for him, why is it that you left? Why didn't
you stay in hell, stay close to him?" "Because he did not
understand the depth of my love for him. Only on
earth can I show him how deeply I worship him. Only here
can I kill for
him, shed the blood of the innocent and the pure in his
name. Only up here
will he take me." Zeke felt a chill drive
through him. "Has he... taken you while you've been
back?" "Alas, no." He turned then,
and the expression on his features made Ezekiel step
away, his hands dipping inside his coat, reaching for
the two loaded guns. "He has... other things on his
mind." It had been too easy, and
maybe that should have given him a clue as to there
being something wrong. But he had ridded the earth of
many demons now, and he was confident of his own
abilities in these situations, despite the terrible grin
on the other's face, and the malevolence in his tone. Zeke held the two guns at
arm's length and aimed directly into the eyes of the
occultist who stood before him. Yet the other demon was
not showing any fear, not attempting to escape the
finality of what would happen when the Devil's collector
of souls pulled the triggers. Instead, he stood, almost
smiling, his arms folded in the creases of his flowing
robes, his eyes sparkling with the fires of hell. "Is it
the same for us both? Or will he allow you to return, to
continue your hunt?" Kanundra spoke three words
in an ancient dialect. The weapons were torn from
Ezekiel's grip to turn in mid-air and aim themselves
back at his own blue eyes. He stopped breathing. "This
won't help." "Maybe I can send you back
in my place. You had it easy, Ezekiel Stone. I should
try to show you the real hell." In a moment, the shots were
fired, and the occultist gone. Ezekiel screamed as he felt
the bullets enter his head through the burning crevices
of his eyes. Instantly, his soul erupted in white-hot
pain as it was ripped from him. A fire started at the
base of his spine, an agony so intense it stole his
breath, burnt through his lungs, started to burst forth
from his eyes. A second scream peeled forth as the first
tendrils of himself left his body and the ground opened
up below him to admit him into the hell fire. A hand was forced over his
eyes, covering the deep, bloodless wounds. Through
his terror, Zeke felt that the flesh from that palm was
running into his
brain, sealing his soul inside, stopping the ground from
consuming him by
its simple presence. Instinct took his own hands to his
face, but they were
forced down, held firmly in front of him by an immovable
force. Hot breath
caressed his ear. "Don't fight me. I can keep
you here but you have to let me." The honey voice was
soft but insistent. Zeke nodded once, slowly, thankfully
accepting his boss' help, however unexpected it was. "I
have to take you with me, to repair your human form.
You'll know you're not on earth. But don't be tempted;
when your eyes heal, keep them closed. It won't be for
long." Zeke nodded once again, just slightly, not in any
hurry for the hand to leave his face. "Are you ready?" "Yes," he choked out the
whispered word somehow. And then he heard, whispered so
quietly he almost wasn't sure, "I won't let you fall." They descended. Zeke felt
the heat, and then the intense pressure surrounding
them. He was clasped firmly against the hard, hot form
of the devil; one arm was wrapped closely around him,
while the other hand remained over his hollow eye
sockets. They came to a slow stop, yet his feet still
could not touch any ground. The figure behind him
melted, taking on the form that he usually assumed down
in the pit, Zeke imagined. He was wrong. He imagined a
forked talk, long pointed fingers, a forked tail and
horns of flames. He did not see the light, nor the wings
unfurled. "Trust me." The timbre of
the voice was the same, yet the multitude that sang
around it remained in Ezekiel's head for a long time,
like an echo, comforting him, keeping him balanced while
the same black spells that had originally allowed him to
take back his old form worked once again. Zeke suddenly
found himself blinking behind the loosened hand. Still
he was blind to his
surroundings, and he was thankful for that. Already the
screams of the damned
were beginning to filter through to this place, this
half-way point between
life on earth and immortality in hell.... Abruptly, Ezekiel found
himself in his apartment in New York. He was alone. He
opened his eyes without fear, knowing all was well again
- as well as it could be. Outside, the sun was up and
the streets were coming alive as the day began. Dropping
down onto the edge of the bed, Zeke took in several deep
breaths. Even the stale air of the apartment was
glorious compared to the stifling smog of the
underworld. Lying back, Zeke's eyes took
in the detail of the dirty ceiling. The verse from
Milton was gone. *** When he next opened his
eyes, it was late afternoon. He turned his head to look
out of the window, and was surprised to find he was
being watched. Lucifer had pulled up a chair, turned it
and straddled it, folded his arms across the back and
rested his chin on his hand. He smiled at Zeke. "Hey." Ezekiel blinked against the
light. "Hey yourself. What are you doing
here?" "Protecting my investment?
I wanted to make sure you were all right." Zeke rubbed his eyes and
sat up. "Yeah, I think." He pointed vaguely
upwards. "The verse has gone." "Of course. He has no
further use for it." Ezekiel processed what had
happened that very morning. "Does he know what you did?" "I doubt he expects that
returning you to hell is a permanent solution to his
problem." The devil's answer worried
him. "Is there a permanent solution... to
me?" Lucifer hesitated for a
moment, and then shook his head. "No. Not while your
soul is mine." Another answer that caused
concern. Not wanting to continue this, Zeke swung his
legs off the bed, opposite to where the devil sat, and
stood.
"Any pointers you can to give in this instance would be
greatly appreciated."
His voice gained an echo as he stepped into the cold
bathroom. He didn't
have to eat or drink, but he did, so his body needed to
empty itself. "Instead of talking to my
escaped wards, you should think about simply shooting
them in the eyes the moment you find them and ending
it." "I'm trying to make
friends," Zeke called out from behind the door. "I might
have to face them again one day." He imagined he could
feel the Devil's eyebrows raising. "Doubting me, Ezekiel?" The toilet flushed, and
Zeke stepped back into the bedroom. "Should I be?" With a serious tone rarely
heard in the Devil's voice, Lucifer replied, "We made a
deal, I won't break my word to you." "Um." Grabbing his jacket,
Zeke headed for the door; the less time he spent in this
dump, the better. He caught the expression of...
bewilderment? hurt, perhaps, on the Devil's face. He
sighed. Sometimes it was like having a temperamental
child following him everywhere. "Coming?" *** "The same caf�, Ezekiel? Why
not live a little? Branch out, find new and exciting
places." The words fell on deaf
ears. Zeke was several paces ahead of his boss, had
already pushed open the door and stepped into the dingy,
road-side diner. Lucifer followed like a trained puppy,
unsure why he was remaining at his detective's heals. He
told himself it was to ensure Zeke didn't stray from the
path set for him. He told himself that Kanundra had to
be caught, had to be returned, because otherwise the
Devil himself would be in real trouble. That was what he
told himself; anything else was too disturbing, too
disastrous to admit. Zeke had the strangest
feeling of deja-vu as he sat drinking his coffee,
waiting for his food, and watching the Devil sitting
opposite him, arms folded, chin rested on his hand.
"What's with you at the moment?" he asked finally. Dark eyes looked up at him,
pinned him with a stare that told Ezekiel their owner
did not want a conversation. Zeke gazed into those eyes,
for the first time actually looking at them. The dark
was simply a trick of the
dim light within the caf�. Black, with golden specks,
would have been
a more accurate description, black holes that a man
could drown in, could
lose himself in for eternity... waiting for the end that
never came.... Before he could answer, the
waitress was putting his plate in front of him. By the
time Zeke looked back up, his companion was gone. *** It was pure coincidence that
Ezekiel Stone arrived on the crime scene at
all. He had been wondering, walking around the city,
searching for something that would point him in the
right direction. Sometimes detective work was about
being patient too. He wasn't a particularly patient man. He had been walking up
towards the park when he had seen five marked police
cars, and several unmarked ones, all try to stop on the
same piece of sidewalk. He started towards the scene,
attempting to reach out with the same senses that always
told him when the Devil had arrived in his presence. It
was a skill he was trying to hone. Some yards from the large
group, that had descended on the scene like vultures,
Zeke stopped. He could feel Kanundra watching him. The
small hairs on his
arms, on the back of his neck, all stood up in response
to the chill that
spread through him. He changed direction, walking back
into the park, knowing
he was starting toward the place they had met this
morning. Hands - guns - at the ready,
Zeke fired the moment he could focus on the wayward
demon. Kanundra moved to one side and waved his hand in
an arc in the air. The bullets dropped harmlessly to the
ground, their energy taken from them. "They have found
my sacrifice," he told Ezekiel proudly, indicating the
now large group of officials crowded around a small
clearing some distance from them. Ezekiel kept his eyes on the
human form in front of him. Outwardly calm, his mind was
reeling. How the hell was he meant to exorcise this
soul? The other seemed to read his thoughts. "You cannot
harm me. I'm not like the others. I had powers when I
was mortal. Now, immortality has given me the knowledge
I need to use those powers, to truly understand them. No
one can touch me, no human, and certainly not the
Devil's lapdog." "Then what? You can't hurt
me." "I can. I did. How many
times would he save you? How important are you to him?"
Kanundra stepped forward, closing in on Zeke, his high
cheek-bones emphasising his deadly grin. Ezekiel started to back
away, but the other seemed simply to move with him, in
perfect sync. "There's no escape if I do not wish it."
Kanundra lifted his arm, placing his hand on would-be
executioner's shoulder, his ancient fingers sinking into
the cloth-covered flesh. Zeke howled in pain, slumping
under the impossible weight of the hand he felt that he
was being pushed
back into the unforgiving ground. "Stop." Both spirits turned. The
Devil was standing behind Ezekiel, his human form
wavering, his hellish self slowly being revealed. Zeke
glanced back at his
captor and saw the slight uncertainty ghost across his
sharp features. "I shall rid myself of the
both of you!" Yet the note of hysteria in
Kanundra's voice meant that the words had more
confidence than the demon
actually felt. The Devil laughed. It was
not the laugh that Zeke was used to hearing from
the wide mouth. It was an inhuman bellow of amusement
and rage. It echoed around them, separating them from
the mortal world, surrounding them with the fury of hell
and the surety of death. "You will return." Kanundra screamed as
pressure began to build in his head. The cry of the
earth opening assaulted each of their senses with its
acrid smell, its ash taste, its tearing sound, its
terrible sight. Ezekiel stumbled back as the soul of the
occultist finally broke through the weak flesh that
sought to hold it, and flooded out and down to be
claimed once more by the grasp of hell. Silence echoed after
Kanundra's final, desolate scream died away. Zeke turned
slowly, watching the shifting form of the Devil in his
true state. He wanted to say that the Devil had no power
on earth. But as he watched, before he could speak, the
human form reasserted itself. Lucifer stood still, no
smile, no grin, his eyes molten gold as he looked at
Ezekiel with an ineffable sadness. For a moment, Zeke
thought Lucifer was going to reach out to him, and in
that moment, he would have gone willingly. But instead,
that precious gaze was torn from him, and the Devil
raised his hands to the sky, arms up and spread, as if
in acceptance of a divine intervention. The sky opened, and from the
heavens a bolt of lightening struck downward. Zeke fell
back, recovering his balance and shielding his eyes as
the gold/silver bolt forked, reaching out to the Devil's
hands to entwine electric tendrils with the inhuman
fingers. The violent energy wracked
the body the Devil had chosen. It surrounded him, first
with light, then with sparks, and finally with fire. Zeke screamed. For a reason
he did not understand he ran forward, crying out at the
justice being delivered. Yet the fierce heat and the
sharp pain of electrocution drove him back. The Devil knitted his own
fingers into the tendrils embracing his hands. He felt
the surges, the agonising spikes of white-hot brutality
that raced through him, binding him to the spot. He
deserved this. He had known when he had taken his own
form on earth and summoned his powers to the surface,
that this would be his punishment; the wrath of his
father. The anger vented on him many millennia ago was a
raw memory of shattered love. This was merely a shadow
of the suffering he had experienced back then. Now he
could only bask in the agony, because it was all that
remained of what he once knew. Ezekiel again ran forward.
And when the innate power drove him away for a second
time, he turned his attention upwards. "Let him go!" The punishment ceased. The lightening, the metallic
screaming of the energy being released into the earth,
the Devil himself, all vanished. Ezekiel was left
standing alone. And some distance from him, the police
were crowded around the crime scene, blissfully unaware
of the supernatural occurrences that had just taken
place. The reality that had pushed Zeke's own, borrowed
life out of view. *** "Bourbon, double, no ice." The barman poured a
generous double shot and placed the glass in front of
his trembling customer. Ezekiel downed the drink in one.
"Again." The barman obliged. "Tough
day?" Zeke drank the strong
liquid and nodded. "You could say that." He wished the
alcohol had more of an effect. "Got anything stronger?" "How much do you have?" Zeke laughed as he dug the
remaining change out of his pocket. "Twenty seven
dollars... and ninety-six cents." He placed it all onto
the bar.
His host seemed to hesitate, but something in Ezekiel's
manner must have
spoken volumes about his state. He nodded, and
disappeared around the back
for a minute or so. When he returned, he carried a
litre-sized bottle with
no label. "Sure about this?" Zeke nodded. "Definitely." The barman poured, and set
the nameless bottle onto the bar. Another
momentary glance at his odd customer, and he left Zeke
alone to serve a
woman who was waiting. Whatever it was, for Ezekiel
the colourless liquid in the unlabeled bottle was a
godsend. He could feel the light-headedness, the sheer
drunkenness that he had not experienced for over 15
years. He tried not to think back on the events that had
brought him to this back-alley bar in the darkest part
of New York, but his mind refused to release it's
hysterical grip on the
images that haunted him. He wished, above everything
else, that he didn't understand what had happened in the
park. But he was a bright man, and even if he hadn't had
the running start - knowing about hell, knowing the
Devil on a personal basis - he would have known exactly
what it was that he saw. The repercussions; retribution,
revenge, punishment. And Lucifer had been expecting it
from the moment he had used his powers to rid them of
Kanundra's very real threat. What did that mean? Could
evil do good? Could the Devil - the personification of
the unpardonable sin - really do the right thing? Ezekiel poured another glass
and swallowed it. He looked into the bottom of the
glass, then at the bottle, and leaned forward on the
bar. "Hey." The barman turned slowly. "Got a straw?" *** Zeke guessed it was around
three thirty am when he finally stumbled into his
apartment, having missed his floor three times in the
elevator and ended up taking the stairs up one flight.
He had drunk the whole bottle of whatever it was that
the barman had handed him. He was eternally grateful,
and he had promised to find the bar again tomorrow to
pay off the remainder of his tab. He knew the guy was
going to be more than surprised to see him again. But he
was like that, a good, honest demon who'd murdered a man
in cold blood and then been sent to hell for... God, the
story was sounding old. Once inside his apartment,
he put on some coffee and switched on the television.
The viewing choice seemed to consist of an ancient black
and white 'Mummy' movie, a 1960s porn film with
subtitles, or the usual run of crap from the public
access network. He smiled to himself and left it on as
he located his one mug and served the coffee. Strong and
black. It sobered him slightly, allowing him to focus on
perhaps going to bed. He switched off the
television, padded into the other room and stopped. The
figure was sitting on the windowsill, one leg pulled up,
arms wrapped around it, chin rested on the knee, the
other leg dangling. His head was dropped back against
the cold wall, eyes focused somewhere outside, probably
further away than the greatest visible distance. Zeke
took a step closer. The Devil did not turn, did not even
acknowledge his presence. He took another step. The moonlight was streaming
in through the grimy pane, playing in the jet
black hair that barely touched the drooping shoulders. A
strange beauty, but
a beauty nonetheless. Zeke stared for a few moments,
unsure. But the alcohol
in his blood was making him braver, more focused than he
usually would be;
less inhibited. Another step. Zeke reached out slowly and
touched the soft black hair. The head turned, and golden
eyes picked him out in the darkness. The Devil smiled
sadly, and nodded slightly, then he turned his head and
his attention again from the room. Ezekiel started a
gentle stroking, combing his fingers through the
hair. He didn't know what to say. What could he say?
What was there to say?
Moving slowly, Zeke dropped
his hand and sat down on the windowsill, minding not to
sit on the Devil's foot. He rested back against the
thick glass, bringing one leg up and turning his head to
watch Lucifer's reflection in the window. Neither spoke.
The atmosphere between them
remained charged, despite the silence. Where the teasing
and the taunting and the joking stopped, the raw
sensuality began. This was the Devil, sin incarnate. And
his whole demeanour had shifted from tormentor to
tormented. In the morning it would be another day, the
events of the evening would be committed to the past.
Here, now, in the darkness of the apartment and the
magical light of the moon, those same events were fresh.
Answers, now within his grasp, would be lost with the
rising of the sun. After a long time, Zeke
lifted his head to look directly into the sparkling eyes
of the human form opposite him. As if reacting to the
attention, Lucifer also moved, tilting his face to
regard Ezekiel. Once again, Zeke reached out and touched
that irresistible black mane. The Devil did not flinch,
nor blink. He didn't speak. But he did move his leg to
rest his knee against the
glass, allowing Ezekiel closer. Zeke shifted into the
space made for him,
and in the warm silence between them they both leaned
forward. Ezekiel closed his eyes as
his mouth met the mouth of the other. The Devil's tongue
traced the curves of his lips, slipping slowly inside.
Zeke moaned softly as the hot breath mixed with his own,
and the harsh tongue brushed against the roof of his
mouth, across his teeth, tasting him. He felt a strong
hand move around the back of his head and long fingers
push up into his
hair, mirroring the position of his own hand. He could stop this now, he
knew. Just pull back and stand up. It would never have
happened. Everything would be as it was before this
nightmare day had begun. But he didn't want that now. He
wanted... something, anything. The alcohol in his blood
sang to him of the sweet pleasures to be found in the
body of another man. The rest of his senses were yelling
that this indeed was another male form, one used by the
Devil to piss his earthly servant
off at every available opportunity. It didn't matter. Zeke somehow clambered onto
his knees without breaking the deep kiss. He
leaned over the Devil, pushing his head back against the
wall, forcing it
to tilt upwards. He took the offered control, stroking
his hands over the
jet black hair that so enticed him, pushing his tongue
further into the hot
mouth consuming him. Lucifer lowered his leg into
the space that Ezekiel had left, wrapping his arms up
around the body trying to crawl into his own. He pulled
Zeke to him, and defying any number of physical laws,
Zeke managed to straddle the Devil's thighs as the other
stretched out on the long, wide windowsill. Maybe the
sill had always been that size, maybe not. Nothing else
mattered but the prolonged, heated contact between the
two pretenders. Ezekiel finally released
Lucifer's head and moved his hands down, tracing the
curve of powerful muscles beneath the expensive dark
shirt the Devil wore. Both moaned at the intimate
contact. Ezekiel blocked his own thoughts; he just
wanted to act. Opening his eyes to look into the Devil's
face, he realised his companion wanted the same. They
both needed a little physical heat this night. They broke the kiss only
once to open shirts and reveal perfectly sculptured
bodies. Foreheads pressed together, the room devoid of
the sounds of breathing, the Devil traced fingertips
over the runes, causing Ezekiel to groan and shiver. As
the touch grew bolder, Zeke curved his neck to lean in
to the other's
and start to nip the skin on the Devil's throat with his
teeth. The resulting
sounds from his lover urged him on, and he kissed a path
from shoulder to
ear, before biting gently into the warm flesh. Lucifer's
head dropped back
against the wall, a long, low moan issuing forth from
his throat. Zeke smiled,
and moved to recapture that luxurious mouth. They kissed for hours.
Tasting, nipping, biting, teasing one another
mercilessly. Ezekiel's hands roamed ceaselessly over the
Devil's form, from his hair, over his neck and shoulders
to the fine chest, over hardened nipples and then back.
Lucifer preferred just to hold his companion close, to
occasionally rub his back and comb fingers into his
hair. As they continued to melt inside one another, the
Devil did move his hands forward to push them inside
Zeke's shirt in order to move it down, off his
shoulders, exposing the runes that decorated his body to
their author's ministrations. Lucifer knew the effect
his touch on the symbols would have on Ezekiel, and for
once he was very careful not to push too hard. His
caress became light, tracing the outlines as if that
alone could call the demons back. Ezekiel reacted to the
building arousal in the only way he knew. He shifted
closer, bringing their hard erections together and
starting a rhythmic movement that might have result in
them both coming to orgasm, had they been real. But as
human as they looked then, they were more. Their spirits
started to weave into one another, pushing them higher. Outside, the sun began to
rise and still they remained locked together, their
minds gone from the physical world that surrounded them.
The closeness was something neither had experienced in
too long. Zeke just wanted to feel alive. Lucifer's
reasons were a million times more complicated. Arousal starting to drive
him beyond crazy, Zeke mentally started to beg, wanting
more, feeling - for the first time since his return -
trapped inside the human form that held him. //show me
more// Surprised at the intimate
communication, the Devil trembled in his lover's
embrace. His touch, his tracing of the runes on Zeke's
body, became firmer, more deliberate. Instantly, Ezekiel
felt the change. The low currents of sexuality became a
tide; wave after wave cascading over him, building,
driving him to the inevitable climax. He groaned into
the Devil's mouth. //come with me// The internal battle that had
been raged within Lucifer finally came to an end. He let
go, urged on by Ezekiel's words, following him to the
precipice and balancing there with him. //fall// They both came hard, the
light exploding behind closed eyes, howls of ecstasy
escaping their throats as they broke the kiss to fall
together. Some time later, Zeke lifted
his sweat-slicked body, leaning back in the Devil's
embrace. He was sitting in the circle of the other's
legs, had at some point fallen back from his initial
position. Now, he unfolded his own legs and moved them
both forward, hooking his ankles together against the
Devil's back. It was a close position, intimate and
warm. Despite having spent the night devouring Lucifer,
Ezekiel found himself feeling a little uncomfortable.
The Devil's gentle smile put him at ease. For a while, they didn't
speak. The only words they'd shared all night had been
Zeke's rough, desperate attempt at telepathy. He would
never know how deeply he had spoken to his adversary at
those moments. Lucifer reached around and pulled his
lover's shirt back up on his shoulders while Ezekiel
played his fingers through the Devil's fine, damp hair. Finally, the Devil spoke,
his honeyed voice caressing Zeke with ease. "You
are so important to me. You must remember that." The words took Ezekiel by
surprise. He could only nod. He had not known what to
say before, when he had first wondered into the room and
seen the beauty and mystery sitting on the windowsill.
He had not a clue what to say now. A few moments later, the
Devil smiled, and extracted himself from the embrace
of Ezekiel's limbs. He hesitated, and then when Zeke
glanced up at him and
nodded once, he walked to the door and vanished. Ezekiel stayed for a long
time at the window, watching the sunrise over his little
bit of New York. When he finally looked back inside the
room, he saw a message scrawled in ancient script on the
far wall. Dropping to the
floor, he walked over to read it.
"There's much I want to say at this moment when all
the barriers are broken and all our shields are down.
Your trust in me, your constant openness and lack of
revulsion leaves me breathless. Too old, these
feelings that you awaken within me. It scares me to
experience this with you - a lost soul, one of my lost
souls. It scares me to still experience this at all.
How can nothing change when everything has changed?
The world never stops, Ezekiel, my fallen angel." Beneath the last word was a
signature, two letters ornately etched into the plaster.
"MS" *** "The same caf�! Again!" Zeke
looked up as the Devil slid into the seat opposite him.
He smiled his good morning and bit savagely into his
toasted bacon sandwich. Lucifer chuckled. "And hungry
too. Anyone would think you didn't get any sleep." Zeke rolled his
amusement-filled eyes and continued to eat. Only when he
had finished, and was reaching for his coffee (the
second of the morning, old habits died hard even after
15 years) did he meet the Devil's steady regard. "I got your note." Lucifer
looked away, but Ezekiel reached out and touched his
hand. "Thank you, Morning Starr." Their eyes locked, and
for a moment, Zeke believed he could read in the golden
orbs everything that had been scrawled onto his wall;
awe, gratefulness, no small measure of affection. An
acknowledgement of what they had shared. And then he
dropped his hand, and wrapped his fingers around the hot
mug of coffee, raising it to his lips. "So who's today's demon of
the hour?" The Devil titled his head,
mouth open. "I can't just tell you." "Then give me a clue." Lucifer paused, and then
shrugged. "All right." He leaned forward. "Let me tell
you a story...." fade out |