Raw Deal

6. Snapping Jaws

6Snapping JawsThere was a long silence in the room. Thunder continued to rumble, and lightning lit up the window. With each flash, Soren studied Conn’s face. The demon’s eyes now burned a steady green, but the flecks of ice blue were still there, showing his thoughts ticking through.

He knew this man, had fought alongside him many times. Conn had trained him for Godsakes! He’d taught him how to respect himself—and the enemy. At a time when all Soren wanted to do was lose himself in the savagery of each kill, when he was on the verge of touching the monster inside, Conn had stepped in. He’d made it his mission to find the man again.

Soren owed him.

And, yet, something wasn’t right.

Conn’s face had the same expression now as it did the first time they’d met. He was trying to figure him out. To anticipate his response. This would be an all-or-nothing deal, a chance to pay his debt.

“You just asking me to follow you? No questions?” Soren asked.

“Nah, man. I’ll tell you what I can. You’ll be on the right side. But you’ll need to use your head, Hux—not your heart.”

The lightning flashed again, and thunder instantly exploded above their heads. This time they didn’t cower. The central light pendant swayed from the vibration, tracing a weak elliptical path across the room.

“Then explain it to my head, Cuinn.” Soren pushed himself back on the bed. The heavy muscles across his back and shoulders hunching him over a little. Now the cat was out of the bag, he felt almost relaxed.

Forcing himself up from the chair, Conn crossed to the bedside table, wincing as he shuffled injured feet over the high pile of the floral rug that ran alongside the bed. He picked up the bottle of whiskey and topped up Soren’s proffered cup.

If they kept this up, they’d both be sleeping it off well into tomorrow morning.

After refilling his own, Conn returned to the chair. Another battering of hail began hitting the windowsill.

For the first time, Soren noticed not only had Conn pulled the curtains, but he’d covered the wardrobe mirror with a towel, turned the bedside clock face down, and reversed the pictures on the wall. Not a shiny surface anywhere. “You’re keeping Jegudiel out?” Now that the shock of seeing Conn was wearing off, Soren woke up.

“Yep.”

“Have you seen her?”

“Yeah, I’ve seen the bitch.”

“In Hell?”

Conn nodded. “She looked like she’d had seven bells knocked out of her. Alive, though, and recovering when I left.”

Soren wondered why he said “left” and not “escaped,” but he just said, “It was Billy. Nearly killed her. Damned hard to kill an angel—even if you are one.”

“Billy? Tazia’s friend from London?”

At the mention of Tazia, they both flicked their eyes away from each other for a moment.

“Yeah.” Soren took a big swig. “Billy’s an angel now, and Anastasia is… human.” He waited. Tazia being human could change everything for Conn. After all, he’d loved her, hadn’t he? It certainly seemed that way when Soren had killed him.

“Where is she?” Conn said.

“Dunno. She’s gone walkabout. Finding the whole human thing… difficult.” Soren wanted to ask more. Find out why Conn didn’t seem surprised. Wanted to know what he still felt for his ex-lover, if anything.

“You back with her now?” Conn’s eyes bored into his, and the silence stretched long and tight.

The last time they’d had a conversation about Tazia it had ended with violence. In fact, it had ended only when Conn’s Core demon had emerged and tried to kill her. It was at least something to be grateful to Jegudiel for—she’d stopped Tazia being ripped limb from limb.

“No.” To be honest, Soren didn’t know what the hell the situation was with Tazia, that girl had always kept him guessing. He shoved the subject back in its box.

Conn seemed to want to do the same, he nodded in such a way as to suggest he already knew the answer. “So, this Billy, is he your contact? Some sort of angelic resistance to the Risings?”

“Yeah. We’re in a holding pattern. Waiting for orders.”

“How many?”

“There’s a… few of us.” He glanced away.

“Doesn’t sound like a big army—”

“We’re doing our best, Cuinn! Angels are on our side. Surely…” The words came like an angry dog snapping its jaws, but the show of teeth was short-lived and ended with a dissatisfied grunt.

Conn blew out a noisy breath, and his tongue moistened cracked lips before replying. “Surely, what? When are they going to act? Angels know feck all about what’s going on down here—”

“Not Billy. He knows.” Soren heaved a sigh, convincing Conn about something he didn’t want to hear had always been an uphill struggle. For a moment, he considered swigging directly from the bottle. “They’ll act. Before the… What did you call it?”

“The Tipping Point.”

“Yeah. They’ll act before then.”

“Okay. Let’s just say they do, man. Do you think they can defeat all the demons in Hell before the humans are dead?”

“I—”

“When have you seen them swoop into action before?” Conn pulled his chair closer, it dragged on the thick pile of the rug, and jolted his wrists breaking the scabs on the right one, oozing blood. He didn’t seem to notice. The pain must be second nature now.

For a moment Soren was gripped with guilt again. This was his fault. Conn had been in Hell because of him. He’d caused all those wounds the moment he jumped at him with the dagger. “I’m not—”

“Well, recruit, when? When Vesuvius erupted? When water flooded the world? When feckin’ Hitler rose to power? Or was it when the Black Plague killed millions—or AIDS?”

“Okay, okay. I get it. You don’t think the angels will act.” Soren checked for his gun. It still lay where he’d left it on the floor. He picked it up and replaced it in his chest holster. He knew the demon was just getting warmed up to his subject.

“I don’t know, man. But I’m past waiting on them and I’m not letting the feckin’ Leeches win this one.”

Soren focused. “So the plan is to take out the vampires? Are they behind the Risings? Not the Advocate or this demon we heard about?”

“What demon?”

“We worked with some witches back in Boston—”

“Pah! Feckin’ witches. What do they know?” Conn threw back his whiskey.

“I’m not a fan either, but they helped us. Told us there was a demon involved.”

Conn shrugged, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I don’t know about a demon, but the plan’s bigger than me, so it is.”

“What the f**k does that mean?” Soren gave up his pretense at neutrality, and his voice rose.

Conn stood up and took a pace forward. “It means: need to fuckin’ know. It means: you gotta trust me. It means… it’ll probably get worse before it gets fuckin’ better…” His voice trailed away along with his anger, and he sat back down. “One thing I do know for sure, though. The angels won’t save anything. The Tipping Point will come. And instead of wasting time trying to stop the inevitable, we’ve got to set it up right.”

“Let it happen? Let all those people die?” Soren’s eyes widened. Something was wrong. He’d never known Conn to be wantonly destructive before. To allow violence for the sake of it. So why now?

“If necessary.” Conn’s face was a mask. Even his eyes maintained a steady deep blue hue.

Needing air, Soren got up and crossed to the window. The storm had petered out though the darkness outside hadn’t lifted even slightly. He pushed the curtain aside. The traffic lights on the corner cycled from green to amber to red without one vehicle passing. A river of water rushed down the street; Vegas drainage wasn’t equipped for the big rains.

Birds squawked from the rooftop of the building opposite, some sort of old-style community hall, all fake red brick and a flat roof. There must have been fifty of them, bluejays, hopping up and down arguing over each inch of space. Had the storm carried them in, or had they brought the storm with them?

He pushed the window closed, so he didn’t have to listen to the screeching, and turned back to Conn. “I… can’t stand with you, man. I’m human. Anastasia’s human now too. Up here it’s our world. I can’t just hand it over.”

Conn shook his head slowly. “My world too, Hux. Soldiers live above ground. Or did you forget that?”

“You know what I meant…”

When Conn spoke again, his voice was level, but he gripped the plastic cup a little too tight in his hand, opposite sides bending toward each other. “Tell me, man, do you remember that recruit that came to me, all f****d up? Wanting to kill everyone, not stop till he’d wrung their necks and bathed in their blood? The one I helped be better than that—to be a man with integrity and honor and belief in a code. You remember him, Hux?”

Soren looked to the ground.

“I need him. I need him by my side right now. I need him to believe in me and do this because he trusts that I would never lead him wrong.”

Inside, silence walled. Outside, the birds screamed.

Soren clenched his fists, setting his jaw as strong as Conn’s, and returned the glare.

Again, Conn stood up and stepped toward him, only a foot between them this time. His voice was icy, and the plastic cup collapsed in his fist, sending a shower of whiskey over the floor. “Okay. How’s this then? You know that guy who stuck a fuckin’ blade in my brain, and sent me to Hell over some fuckin’… woman?” He spat out the word, threw the cup to the ground, and dropped his voice to a barely whispered growl. “I need him to make amends to me.”

He’d pulled the ace.

Soren hung his head, his hands loosened, and his defiance emptied into the air.

Conn relented. He bent level with Soren’s face and gripped his shoulders gently. Warm whiskey breath kissed the Swede’s skin and Conn’s voice caressed him softly, “Just get me to Detroit. I’m too feckin’ weak, Hux. I need your help. I want you by my side, man, but if you can’t give me that… Fine. Just get me to Detroit. You owe me that, surely?”

That he could do. Soren squeezed his agreement into the demon’s forearms. “I’ll get you there, brother.”

The birds outside fell silent.