Fangs and Fists, page 11
For the plan to work, he would need to leave the tower with a group of the soulless. It would seem at first that Haylen had turned against his masters, but that was part of the plan. He must gain the rebels’ trust and to succeed, he needed Adrian to convince the masters that Haylen was still on their side.
“Only fools trust down here,” Adrian had replied. “But your plan interests me. Go on with it. You know the consequences if you fail -- or if you deceive us.”
That was rich. The masters’ existence was based on deception.
With the first two parts of his plan complete, it was time to move on to the third and probably most difficult stage.
Grit seemed open to orders, but Haylen believed this was a ruse -- part of Grit’s own plan, of which Haylen could only guess.
In his chamber, Haylen relaxed into a high-backed wooden chair -- a torture chair in days of old. He closed his eyes and searched for Grit.
“Haylen?”
It felt strange for one of the soulless to call him by his name, but he reminded himself that Grit was not a simple minion. He had a soul.
“Yes, Grit. I have orders for you.”
“Tell me what to do,” Grit replied with familiar words, yet the sensations he emanated weren’t those of a mindless slave, but of a man.
Like demons, Grit could not be trusted.
“You will meet me at the place I name on the day and time I say. Do you understand?”
“Yes, master, and I obey.”
* * *
Thoughts from the Master’s Gazing Room --
I despise resurrection demons more than any other because their magic allows them such privacy. It is truly annoying not to see what goes on his Haylen’s workroom.
We know what goes on. He revives corpses. Mortal creatures become so squeamish and emotional when they see the bodies of their friends and family jerking around without thought or self-control.
Yes, it’s a beautiful thing, but it would be more convenient if some of them retained a bit more life, so to speak. Most of them stink.
That’s what refrigeration units are for.
Grit was almost perfect. Who would have guessed that reviving him too soon would cause such difficulty?
I sort of guessed, but chaos is such fun.
Chaos. Not rebellion.
Do you think he’ll do it again?
Haylen? It’s doubtful.
But his connection to a thinking corpse is allowing him to feel again. Do you think he’ll be satisfied with masturbation? Maybe he’ll want to experience other earthly pleasures and that could lead him astray.
He’s a faithful servant, mostly because beneath his controlled surface he’s churning with ambition.
Don’t forget hatred. Hatred is what brought him to us.
And hatred always trumps pleasure.
* * *
After receiving orders from Haylen, Grit, accompanied by Christian and Zari, immediately reported to the Alpha wolf. When they returned home, Maddy was eager to reveal information she’d uncovered. They assembled in the living room of the apartment and Maddy passed around a packet of printed papers.
“When you told me Haylen’s name, I remembered reading about him while working on the All Spirits Project,” Maddy said.
The All Spirits Project was an undertaking by a group of witches from around the world who had decided to share their ancient texts by creating a searchable database that would be accessible online to all practitioners of magic. The project had dwindled during the demonic war and ended when the masters had conquered the world. It was too dangerous for well-meaning witches, like Maddy, to compile information about demons and evil magic. Their work would be considered treasonous and if caught, they faced imprisonment, torture, and execution.
Like the underground mail system, several witches still secretly worked on the project, though no longer online.
“Haylen is fascinating -- for a demon, I mean,” Maddy explained, noting the strange looks from her companions. “He was actually a faith healer in England around the year 800.”
“A charlatan,” Christian said with contempt. “It’s not shocking that he’s a demon.”
“According to the history books, he wasn’t a fraud at all. Healing by touch is a rare gift, bestowed by the divine.”
“You’re trying to tell us he’s a fallen angel?” Zari asked.
“No. He was human, but gifted. He allegedly healed many people in his village and the surrounding ones. He was known as a good man.”
“How did he end up a demon?” Grit asked.
“While he was away, his village was raided by Vikings. Everyone was slaughtered, including his wife and young son. He tried to heal them, but they were already dead. His powers could only heal the living. The dead are in the hands of heaven, or at least their souls are.”
“Still waiting to hear about the demon part,” Christian said, folding his arms across his chest. He didn’t seem to want to hear a single good word about a demon, even if it was true and long past.
Maddy shot him an annoyed look. “I’m getting to it. He disappeared for a time after that. No one is exactly sure where he went or what he did, but when he returned, he was different. Some say, and apparently the stories were true, that he had become a master of magic, in particular the most dangerous and wicked forms. He no longer healed the living, but raised the dead. As the story goes, he resurrected the long dead villagers, creating an army of rot and bones that responded to his will alone. With them, he tracked the raiders who destroyed them and took revenge using the corpses the Vikings had left behind.”
“I can almost understand his thinking,” Grit admitted.
Christian scowled. “You’re under his influence.”
“Maybe, but I’ve often wondered about your dedication to the rebellion,” Grit replied holding Christian’s belligerent gaze. “You seem like the kind of guy who’s not just in this because you’re idealistic. I think it’s personal for you.”
“My reasons are none of your damn business.”
Maddy held up a hand and said loudly, “It’s personal for all of us. Fighting among ourselves won’t help and I agree with Grit. Haylen had reason to seek justice, but he made it revenge instead. He reanimated corpses -- soulless minions. He allowed the raiders’ evil to infect him and he ultimately became worse than them. He sacrificed his soul for vengeance and became a demon.”
“Knowing all this makes the Alpha’s plan even more dangerous. Haylen won’t be easily defeated,” Zari said.
“Few demons are,” Christian added. “At least powerful ones like Haylen.”
“But he answers to others,” Grit said. “I know he does. I can’t explain how our connection works, but I can sense things from him.”
Christian stared at him warily, but Grit didn’t care. The vampire had reason to be cautious.
“That’s pretty much all I know about him,” Maddy said. “I’ve communicated with other witches whom I trust. They’re also working on the All Spirits Project. Some have access to older and darker works than I have here. I’m hoping one of them can find more information.”
“Be careful, Maddy,” Zari warned. “Since the rebellion, it’s hard to know who to trust.”
“I know.”
“So we go ahead with the Alpha’s plan?” Zari asked Grit.
“I’m still in. Are you?”
“Until the end,” Christian replied quickly, his expression deadly.
“So am I,” Zari said.
“Then let’s hope we’re powerful enough to hold a demon like Haylen,” Maddy added.
“In the meantime, Maddy, we’ll get the information you provided to the rebel leaders. They’ll want to know what you’ve found,” Zari said.
The women stepped out, leaving Christian and Grit staring at each other.
“I’m not your enemy,” Grit told him.
“Maybe not intentionally.”
Grit rose and so did the vampire. They stood mere inches away from each other. After a moment, Christian turned and strode out of the parlor.
Maybe Christian had a point. If Grit’s mind was still open to Haylen, he was a liability. However if the connection went both ways, like Grit suspected, then maybe he would be more useful than they thought.
Chapter Five
The Church
When demons took over the cities, their first order of business was to destroy or occupy places of human authority. That included many government and religious buildings.
The rebels were surprised that Haylen had ordered Grit to meet him at an abandoned church across town. It was one of the oldest churches in Detroit and had been among the first raided and emptied by the masters -- the interior demolished and the few who attempted to defend it slaughtered.
Grit approached the church alone, but the rebels were nearby. The wolves had abandoned their bikes and traveled in their beast form, darting silently down alleyways and leaping from rooftop to rooftop. Unseen. Unheard.
Grit caught their scent and those of the witches, as well as Christian and Zari. His senses were returning slowly, along with his memories. He wondered again how many of those memories Haylen saw.
He detected other scents as well -- the slightly bitter stench of the soulless and another aroma, unlike anything he’d ever smelled before, reminding him of frozen incense.
Outside the church, he paused. The doors opened. His gut tightened and his senses sharpened at the sight of scratched and chipped pews filled with the soulless. In the flickering light from hundreds of candles lit around the church, they sat straight and still, their pale flesh marked with various scars and stitches. Many had metal limbs and plates molded to their flesh in various places.
Grit nearly panicked as he recalled how it felt to be one of them, but he managed to control himself. He was no longer a mindless slave, and he had come to destroy the one who manipulated these wretched creatures.
Noting the number of soulless, he wondered if the Alpha had arranged for enough wolf, vampire and witch warriors to put them down.
Haylen stood in front of the crushed altar. The red tattoos shone like blood on his pale, smooth head. In his long, black coat with a mandarin-collared shirt beneath, he looked like a warped clergyman leading his zombie church.
“Welcome, Grit,” Haylen said, opening his arms in a gesture of greeting.
Grit took a tentative step over the threshold. He stopped again, his heartbeat quickening. Once inside, he might not emerge again -- at least not in the same state. He’d struggled to regain his free will and had no desire to have it torn from him again.
“Closer, please,” Haylen said.
Please. The demon had never used niceties when issuing orders, but Grit sensed it wasn’t a command.
Grit strode down the aisle, over the carpet stained with dirt and dried blood, toward the beast who had brought him back from the dead.
He stopped mere feet from Haylen and stared into the demon’s eyes. Haylen held his gaze and Grit instinctively knew he returned Grit’s curiosity.
At that moment, dozens of wolves, vampires and several witches streamed into the church. They entered through the front and side doors and even dropped from holes in the ceiling, left from a long ago demon attack.
They dove at the soulless, tearing with teeth and claws, blasting firearms, stabbing with gleaming blades and spouting spells. The soulless didn’t respond, except to collapse in the pews.
“Stop!” Grit bellowed. He couldn’t help feeling empathy for these creatures who had no choice but to bend to the masters’ will.
Slowly, the killing ceased, except for Christian, who, looking more demonic than vampiric, was lost in bloodlust. A dagger in each hand, he moved from one reanimated corpse to the next, stabbing in a frenzy.
“Christian!” Zari approached him. He spun, his face and black body armor glistening with blood. His lips drew back over his fangs and he hissed at her, his daggers poised for attack. Grit lunged at him and grasped his wrists. They briefly struggled for possession of the daggers. Christian was quite strong, even for a vampire, but Grit overpowered him. Two wolves grasped Christian and pinned him to the wall.
A faint smile tugged at Haylen’s lips. “Interesting company you’ve been keeping, Grit.”
Anger sparked inside Grit. He’d had enough of this insanity. He strode toward Haylen and grasped the front of his shirt.
“What do you want?” Grit growled, the wolf in him surfacing. “You called me here. You brought your minions and you have a fight on your hands.”
“It’s not the fight I want,” Haylen said calmly.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means we can help each other, Grit.”
“Help?” Grit growled again and he felt as if his very bones were rippling. “The last time you ‘helped’ me, I woke like them.” He jabbed a finger toward the soulless.
“If I wanted to harm you and your pitiful handful of rebels, you’d all be dead now,” Haylen said, curling his lip.
“I’m already dead.”
Haylen shook his head. “No, Grit. You were never actually dead.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I didn’t resurrect you like I did them.” Haylen waved his hand toward the creatures in the pews. “I healed you.”
“Lying bastard!” Grit, his hand still tight on Haylen’s shirt, strode toward the wall and slammed the demon against it.
“Then how do you explain your memories?” Haylen asked. Despite Grit’s fierce hold on him, not a hint of fear shone in his cool blue eyes. “How do you explain your ability to think for yourself?”
Grit’s hand slid around Haylen’s neck. His steel claws pierced the pale flesh. “I’d love to kill you for what you’ve done to --”
Dropping her hand heavily on Grit’s shoulder, Zari said, “Let him go. We’re not here to kill him.”
Still staring into Haylen’s eyes, Grit realized that despite his rage and his fierce words, he didn’t want to kill Haylen. He had too much to learn from the demon, and he had promised the Alpha to deliver him to the rebel leaders.
“You’re welcome to try,” Haylen said, his voice a hoarse whisper, as Grit’s hold cut off most of his breath.
Grit released him and Haylen straightened, though he made no move to rub the red marks on his throat. Blood trickled from the nicks left by Grit’s claws, but before his eyes, the wounds began to close, even faster than wolves’ regenerative powers.
“You’re coming with us,” Grit told Haylen.
“That’s why I’m here.”
Zari and Grit exchanged glances.
Several wolves approached to take Haylen. They carried magically enforced manacles and shackles.
“Those aren’t necessary,” Haylen told them. “I’ll go willingly.”
“Think again,” Zari said with a humorless chuckle. “We want you tied up.”
“If it comforts you, by all means.” Haylen extended his wrists and allowed the wolves to cuff them as well as his ankles.
“What about all these…” Zari waved her hand, glancing at the soulless. The ones whom the rebels hadn’t butchered still sat silently in the pews.
“We’ll stay behind with them until the Alpha sends word about what to do,” replied Cliff, one of the werewolf warriors. Tall and lean with sandy hair, Cliff was a guard in the Alpha’s personal unit.
Several witches and vampires volunteered to remain behind to help as well.
At Cliff’s order, two wolves led Haylen outside. Zari and Grit followed.
Outside, Christian paced in the patch of dead grass in front of the church, under watch by a wolf and two vampires.
Zari and Grit approached.
“What was that about in there?” Zari asked Christian.
He glared at her. “We came to destroy --”
“No, we came to capture a demon and we did that.”
Christian stared at her in astonishment. “We didn’t capture anyone. That demon was waiting for us. He didn’t put up a fight. He wants something from us and by letting him and his minions live, we’ve played into his hands.”
“You might be right,” Zari said. “But you’re still out of control. You’d better work out your issues, Christian, at least enough to think clearly.”
“Look who’s talking, Miss Fuck-the-Former-Soulless --”
“I’ve had enough of your bad attitude,” Grit said, growling.
He felt that rippling sensation again. Maybe his shapeshifting powers were trying to return. He hoped so. Even in the church, he’d envied the wolves who had so easily shifted to engage in battle.
He stood nearly chest to chest with the tall, slim vampire. Grit could easily overpower Christian and they both knew it, but that didn’t stop Christian from participating in a staring match. Grit had the feeling that Christian would fight anyone to the death. The man had problems, but for some reason he wouldn’t disclose them. Though he didn’t like Christian, he couldn’t help sympathizing with him. Still, his compassion didn’t erase the fact that unless Christian got himself under control, he could be a detriment to their cause.
“We can talk about this later,” Grit said.
“Fuck you.”
Grit stepped even closer to Christian, resisting the urge to strangle him.
“Come on, Grit,” Zari said. “I know the Alpha will want to see you. He might need your help with Haylen.”
“Mark my words,” Christian warned. “That demon wants something from us. This was far too easy.”
Zari and Grit walked away.
“He’s right, you know,” Zari said.
“Yes, Haylen wants something all right, and I admit I’m curious about him.”
“That’s only natural. I think we all are, but you have even more reason to be.”
“I don’t think we’ll have to wait long for answers.”
“I agree. He seems willing to talk.”
* * *
The wolves brought Haylen to the warehouse where they’d held Grit. When they arrived, the Alpha and the Sovereign Vampire were already there.
The leaders instructed Zari and Grit to leave. If and when they were needed, they would be summoned.
