He took off after her. She was easy to follow if only because of the racket she caused. As if she didn’t care if he followed. Or maybe she didn’t mind.
Winter air blasted him across the face when he burst out on to the back porch, ran along the fence and cleared the mansion corner just in time to catch Bethany leaping over the fence. While running, he aimed more or less in her direction and fired once. The shot clanged against the iron fence, busted the closing mechanism, and Cain only had to dip his shoulder as he ran into the opening.
As Cain chased the little liar down Avenue Pierre de Coubertin, the air filled with the flap of wings. A leathery fap-fap-fap that presaged nothing good for either of them.
“Give me the box!”
He was out of time. She could disappear down below whenever she wanted. She just ignored him and kept on running.
A city bus on its lonely night run temporarily obscured her when she crossed the wind-swept street. The stadium loomed in front. If she lost him in the maze of concrete ramps and walkways, he’d never find her again.
Three silhouettes suddenly rose near the underground parking entrance. Cain only had time to mutter a curse when Bethany ran right past them. In her haste, she must not have spotted them. Bright muzzle flashes preceded the thunder of several firearms. With a yelp, the woman stumbled, managed to fire a shot before she crashed against the concrete ramp. Like vultures, the three attackers jumped from their perch to finish the job. By that time, Cain had silently caught up to them. Wind drowned what little noise he made as he crept up behind the trio of men.
“Do not kill her yet,” said the man to the right, a tall fellow with a dark coat that reached the ground. His courtly speech pattern tickled Cain’s memory. “There is no reason to be hasty, is there?”
Bethany used the ramp for support as she gingerly climbed back to her feet. “Guys, guys, it’s just a misunderstanding. We can work through this, right. Just hear me out.”
Cain levelled his shotgun at their backs. He could have given them fair warning, a chance to step away and get lost. He might have felt a bit more lenient toward them if Bethany hadn’t already wasted what little goodwill he possessed. As it were, he’d already lost too much time. Plus, the kind of men who ganged up on a woman wouldn’t be missed if they suddenly exited the gene pool.
He opened fire.
Two collapsed right away, the air instantly filling with the smell of sulphur and the acrid taste of ash. He should’ve known. Keepers. They’d be back within seconds, “resurrected” by their demon masters, just like Berith had done for him earlier that night. Bethany nimbly jumped on the other side of the ramp.
It figures.
The third man, however, growled in pain but seemed otherwise unaffected by the silver slugs dipped in holy water. So, not a keeper then. And not a human either.
Cain understood why when the man whirled around. Massive wings shredded the long coat, spread high and wide. Contrary to popular belief, angel wings weren’t feathered but made of tough hide like those of demons. In fact, the only distinguishing factor between the two — other than their disposition — was the smell. Cain swore under his breath. He didn’t have time for this.
“Thanks for the hand,” he growled for Bethany’s benefit. No doubt she was already long gone.
Grinning, the angel began to pull a sword from within what remained of his coat. Cain didn’t wait to see the tip before he emptied his magazine. Each slug propelled the snarling angel back a step. Barely. When Cain knew he’d just chambered the last shell, he slipped his Luger out. A gold bullet ought to do the trick.
With a smile, the angel bowed slightly. “Wait.”
“Oh? Okay.”
Cain fired twice. Both times, the angel used his blade to smack the bullets away. Deafening metal-against-metal clangs made Cain’s teeth hurt.
“I can help you, monkey-man,” the angel said.
“Shutting up would help.”
The angel smiled. A bit too wide, a bit too forced. Mimicking humans. They could never get it right and could never understand it wasn’t about the mouth. It was all in the eyes. And theirs never smiled.
“I can help you get back.”
Cain aimed straight between the thing’s eyes. Maybe he’d get lucky and blind it long enough to slip his last rosary shell in his shotgun. “Get back where?”
“Here.” The angel’s grin widened, as did his wings. Like a hawk trapping its prey. “You could have another chance at life. If you give me what she stole.”
“Life? I tried it once, it wasn’t all that.” Liar. He’d do anything for another shot. “Plus, why don’t you take the soul yourself? Oh, that’s right, you can’t, it has to be freely given.”
“You wasted yours away,” the angel snarled. Greed and anger blasted out in a furious wave that hit Cain in the chest. “You took His gift, and threw it back at Him. But I can help you get back in His good graces, monkey-man. He is forgiving.”
The wall of rage dissipated and Cain shook his head. “You’re no more in his good graces than I am, so quit flapping your wings.”
“Hey.” Bethany slowly walked around the concrete ramp, hands well in view. A little black pouch dangled from one. “Here, take it.”
Cain couldn’t believe she’d returned. Maybe she wasn’t all bad. Just mostly bad. “Bethany, don’t—”
“Freely given?” The angel cut Cain off and turned slightly in Bethany’s direction. Avarice narrowed his eyes. His fingers twitched by his side. The sword tip wavered just the slightest bit. For an angel to get his hands on a bit of human soul was like an addict finding half a pound of cocaine. Jackpot.
“Yeah.” She flicked a quick glance at Cain. “I don’t want to go back to the eighth. Please, okay, please give me another chance. Here, that soul is yours.”
The pouch dangled invitingly at the end of its cord. Bethany’s hand trembled.
His nostrils and eyes flared, the angel bent over to take the little pouch from the much smaller woman.
Cain wouldn’t get another chance like this.
Years of practice kicked in. Within a second, a rosary shell was loaded into the shotgun. Thunder reverberated when he shot the renegade angel. For a split second, he thought he’d missed as the thing straightened, rage and hatred disfiguring the handsome face and making him even more imposing. Everything slowed, time itself ticked away one grain at a time. The silvery wire spread, each dot like a silver teardrop, flew at the angel’s neck, where it bit into the flesh, sliced right through and embedded itself into the concrete wall behind. The wings shook with a spasm. Bethany cursed. Cain barely had time to protect his face with his arm when ashes and embers swirled like a mini twister, higher, wider, peppered him with burning bits, disintegrated into black smoke until only a scuff marked the angel’s spot. Through the smoke, Bethany’s face was like a tiny white moon, eyes huge.
Cain slipped his Luger into its holster. “You’re a good liar. You had me going with that pouch. That a decoy?”
She beamed. “Smart and beautiful. I have it all.”
He aimed the shotgun at her. “No more tricks, Bethany. Give me the secrets.”
In the distance, the flap of wings heralded the spawns’ return, their cackling and shrieking growing louder. Shit.
A blast of wind fretted her hair. She backed against the ramp. “I wasn’t lying to you. I need this.”
“Argh, come on! You think I’m—”
Cain froze and looked up into the sky. He felt them clearly now. Close. Very close. By the sound, he knew there were hundreds of them. Carrions. He wouldn’t have time to make it to his car.
She approached despite the barrel of the gun digging in her chest. “We need to work together. If we make it to dawn, we’ll be okay.”