Red Devil
Chapter Fifteen
Pollock
Kahill spent a great many days seeing to his soldiers, getting them settled in, and establishing his camp outside the city’s walls.
We’d had time to go over the most important aspects of this transition, but Kahill had mentioned he wanted to discuss something important with me privately as soon as we could find the time.
We hadn’t found the time. I’d been so busy and bombarded with questions over the past few days that I could barely find a few minutes alone outside of my nightly four to five hours of rest. Not necessarily a need, but I’d gotten used to it and found I cope better with the stress of the day ahead after meditating or resting my eyes for a while.
My intent was to seek him out today and find out what was so damn important but couldn’t be discussed in a room full of my advisers.
When I exit the shower, another small human custom I’ve indulged in, I find there’s no need to hunt Kahill down.
He’s lounging on my bed, arms behind his head, his mud-caked boots kicked up and crossed at the ankles.
“I could seriously get used to this.”
I hiss and scold him in our language, which translates to, “Get your filth-ridden feet off my godforsaken bed.”
He complies, while snickering, and takes his time about it. Then exaggerates the removal of dirt from the top of my duvet.
“Better princess?”
“Much. Thank you.”
His height outreaches mine. His muscle mass as well. Being gifted with slices of his soul from Lucifer himself has granted him a wealth of power and influence. Maliciousness bleeds off him even now, and it’s something that stifles any room he resides in.
My muscles tense as I fight the urge to meet the threat he’s pouring out with one of my own.
The wings buried under the flesh of my back ruffle with agitation.
I maintain composure and don’t let them unfurl to make an appearance, though it’s been some time since I’ve stretched them, and the need to do so is riding me hard.
“Pull it back or get the fuck out.” I point toward the double doors on the far side of my suite. Then I move across the room in search of my clothing.
“Calm down. I’m just messing with you. It’s been far too long, and I believe all this power is getting to your head, or just plain getting to you.
I can sense your anxiety. It’s pouring off you in waves.
How do you expect to stabilize the disorder I’ve brought about in your great city if you yourself can’t maintain composure? ”
Dropping my towel and dressing quickly, I don’t deign to greet that question with a response. I do, however, maintain eye contact with him as I dress. So when his gaze leaves mine and becomes a lecherous perusal of my form, I notice.
Dark blue eyes that tend to turn red with passion or anger stare back at me. But he does raise a hand and scratch at the short auburn beard covering his jaw. He also runs his teeth over his bottom lip, holding it hostage for a moment before letting it go.
We’ve done this dance for eons, and I have yet to give in. At times, curiosity has put us in precarious situations, but so far, I’ve successfully navigated my way out of them by using insane amounts of power to curb the beast that rises within him when passion takes hold.
Kahill, being part demon, has the libido of a succubus and the skills as a lover to ruin as much as he pleases those underneath him.
He is a force not easily subdued or managed, at least, not in that state.
The human form he’s chosen, his long auburn waves, the body molded to look much like that of a god, are enticing. There’s a ruggedness to him that’s intriguing, whereas his immortal one is a triple threat, dark, deadly, and dangerous, with a side of hellfire and damnation.
“You always did take shit a tad too seriously.”
I zip up and button my trousers. Raising an eyebrow, I say, “And you do the opposite.”
He shrugs. “Better than walking around with a stick up my anus like a bloody prude.”
Picking up my black-collared shirt, I shrug it on and start working it closed.
“Did you come here for an idol chat, to piss me off, or to discuss important matters? Because my time here is limited and I don’t have an ounce of it to waste on nonsense when there’s so much to do.
If you’re just here to insult me, then you can wander off back to camp and take your foul mood out on one of your men. Or is it women you’re into nowadays?”
“Depends on the moment. Either. Both. I’m not picky.”
“Maybe that’s your problem. Easy conquests are boring, and you can’t decide because they all fall at your feet.”
“Bah…I wouldn’t call that a problem. I rather like them on their knees while they serve me. And who said I was bored? Quite the opposite. It’s liberating to point and fuck people of my choosing without judgment. Not something I could do in Heaven without ruffling a few feathers.”
He smirks devilishly at his own pun.
“But perhaps…”
“What?”
“Do you not get sick of it, knowing none of them would choose it without you wielding your power over them?”
He scoffs again at this. “They do and would.”
“Have you tested that theory? Or are you just insulted that I don’t believe you could have multitudes falling at your feet without being influenced to do so?”
He rolls his eyes heavenward, but gets to the point after taking a seat on the end of my bed and planting his forearms on his thighs. “I mentioned wanting to discuss something.”
“Yes. I was actually going to dress and come find you.”
“Well, no need. Here I am.”
I give him my droll stare. “Get on with it then.”
“We came across a lot of curious oddities on our travels to get here.”
“Such as?”
“Unidentifiable markings. Recently dead establishments. They were slaughtered, no eviscerated, and some had been…”
“What?”
“Eaten. Ripped apart. Carried off by the look of the blood path to parts unknown.”
“Animals?”
He shrugs. “No animal I’ve come across would be capable of it. Not here, at least.”
“Then what do you think happened? What’s responsible?”
“More than one, whatever it is. A pack of them, I’d say. There’s something else too.”
After pulling on my vest, I grab my knives and slot each into the small notches that hold them. I raise an eyebrow to tell him to go on. I’m listening.
“The fissures in the earth. Some of the deeper ones have been disturbed. The ground around the edges appeared changed. Prints unlike any I’ve seen.”
“What do you mean they’ve been disturbed?”
He sits quietly for a moment and stares ahead as if at nothing. Concern mars his features, though, and that instantly puts me on edge. It usually takes a lot to unsettle him.
When he speaks next, his voice has lowered as if his troubling thoughts are mirrored in his tone.
“Do you want what my gut instincts are telling me? What my senses are warning me of, or do you want facts? Because I don’t have facts.
I can tell you that whatever breached those fissures came from the same place parts of my soul did.
I felt it. And at the bottom of those cracks is more than dirt or clay earth. ”
I freeze at his words.
“The war that was promised…”
“Won’t be one among men is my guess.”
“He knew, and he didn’t tell us.”
“This was always a possibility. The war was coming either way in the end.”
“Yes, but not before we each play our part. Not before the hearts, minds, and souls of those brought back have been given their due time and tested. Not before you, or Orán, or Tíarnach, have served your purpose. Mine is nearly complete, so I’m not worried about that, but you all should still have plenty of time to carry yours out. ”
“Not necessarily.”
“We’re guaranteed the opportunity to do so.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean Lucifer won’t manipulate the contract terms or work around the agreement. He’ll do whatever it takes to reclaim as many souls as possible so he’s the victor. I know that because I know him like I know my own mind.”
“Surely, there are no loopholes.”
He stands, dominating the room as he strides forward. His leathers are coated in ash. His shirt, jeans, and overcoat are charcoal, with a light dusting. The dirt on his boots continues to mess up my cream-colored carpet with each of his thudding footsteps.
“A glaring one. Even I noticed it.”
“Which part?”
“The top six realms of hell, the souls there were to be reborn and given human form once more, a chance to redeem themselves, and reach salvation, yes? When the Day of Judgment came, and we were allowed to reach this plane to serve out the purpose we were made for.”
“Yes.”
“And everything weighs on the scale of souls, which way it falls in the end, yes?”
“Yes.” Not understanding at all, my mind pinwheels as I search my recollection and think through each decree laid out in the terms of the agreement God and Lucifer reached at the end of the Second War.
I know it line by line, word for word, and still I examine all the different ways it could be interpreted or misinterpreted, leaving this all to play out differently than what we believe has been set into motion.
“He rigged it in his favor from the beginning.”
“How so?”
“Push your awareness out. Out as far as you can. Stretch it thin and force it even farther.”
Troubled and with a sourness building in my gut, I do so.
I stride to the balcony and open the doors.
It builds small, and I let go of my hold on all the people here so that my awareness isn’t funneled into their minds, but beyond the city, beyond those it holds.
A very thinly woven blanket of awareness spreads over them, accounting for each one.
Then I stretch it further and further and further still.
I do so until my knees buckle, and Kahill is there to place his hands on my hips and hold me steady as I use everything in me to focus my power out over the world and the souls who remain here.
There are so many souls, but not enough. Not nearly enough.
I slump in Kahill’s hold as I withdraw my power and as the knowledge of what has been done settles over me. Kahill guides me back to the bed and sets me on the edge until my power reestablishes itself.
“Do you get it now? See the loophole?”
“He didn’t send them all. But how?”
His auburn brows bunch together, creating multiple wrinkles on his slightly aged face.
The face of a war general, a warrior himself, with blue eyes that occasionally flare with an inner red fire when he’s unstable.
“My best guess.” He nods as if to himself and cups the back of his neck with his hand.
“He vastly changed the number of souls on those levels before Judgment Day. He moved them so that not all had the chance to be reborn.”
“Can he do that?”
“Doesn’t matter now. He did.”
“That still doesn’t account for the disturbance of the fissures.”
“The remaining three levels will come in the last days of the war, yes?”
“Yes, so the unequated or unaccounted souls are free from the bindings of the contract. Free to do Lucifer’s bidding. He manipulated the terms to suit.” He shrugs. “It’s more than likely he combed over the terms until he found a way to work around it and fix the end in his favor.”
“So the disturbance is…” The words don’t leave my lips, yet somehow they lie there on the tip of my tongue, acting like acid, rotting away at my calm.
“What I suspect is that demons from hell have breached the surface of the earth. They are roaming free and killing any humans they come across—working to cull the numbers before the final war and tip the scales even further in Lucifer’s favor.
If they haven’t redeemed themselves, they return from whence they came. ”
“Holy fuck.”
“You said it.”
“We need to reach out to Orán and Tíarnach and pull them back. What if they’re out there facing them alone?”
“I was able to reach Tíarnach. He was the first one to figure out something was amiss.”
“What about Orán?”
“You’re his twin. Find him and warn him. Your connection to him will be stronger than mine if I try.”
Dread bottoms out in my stomach because in all my searching over the past few years, I’ve been unable to locate him.
He hasn’t checked in. Not a fucking word or thought to send my way to let me know he’s out there.
The why of it, I’m unsure. At first, I reasoned that my powers hadn’t yet been strong enough or that he’d been at a great distance, but now…
I want to know where the fuck he is and make sure he’s okay.
Our souls are joined. It’s always been so. It should be easy enough with the powers I hold to reach him now, but even as I try, I’m greeted by only silence.
Surely, I would know if he was in danger or if something happened to him.
Wouldn’t I?
Orán! Answer me!