Demon Bait (Keeley Thomson) (22 page)

"That sounds... Unneeded,
but I won't say no. Let me get you one of my cards? You too, Clint, if you're
working on cleanup for us."

That wasn't a huge problem, since
the man didn't have a job, and had nothing else to do most of the time. Even
looking for something else was too hard to bother with. Keeley didn't check on
that one, since the man muttered it for her benefit without being asked.

He'd worked in a garage, as a
mechanic, until the shop had to cut back on manpower. Things in the area were
picking back up, but so far no one had been hiring in his field, and other than
work in a casino, there wasn't a whole lot for him to be doing just then. Which
was a load of garbage, Keeley knew. He was relatively young and healthy,
unmarried and while not good looking, no worse than most people. He was a bit
of a sad sack sort of man, the kind that always made a big deal out of tiny
setbacks, instead of fighting on all the time, to make his way.

Or he had been. Keeley didn't try
to be subtle on the way out of the building, just chatting him up openly. So
much so that the desk sergeant, who was
actually
a corporal, chimed in,
overhearing them.

"Say, I heard they're hiring
over at the Safeway. Stockboys. Not a great place for a grown man, but if you
need something, it beats petty theft."

It was clear that Clint didn't
like that idea at all, feeling that it was beneath him. Keeley smiled though.

"There you go. Go clean up,
and try that. In fact, try everywhere and take what you can find. You can
reschedule with Bob, if you need to work on Saturday mornings."

She had to force herself to be
interested in the idea, but he'd do it, and try hard to get something. That
didn't assure it would work, but if not she could find him a place in about ten
minutes. What was the point of having slaves though, if you had to do
all
the work for them?

It was still early, so she headed
to the store herself, picking the larger bargain place that she'd been using,
and bought in bulk, filling her car. Then she got over to the former drug nest,
thinking about things as she drove. Mainly about the fact that she was,
currently, holding
seventy-two
slaves. Better than that, she didn't
feel
it. If anything, she felt... Good. Not energized maybe, but no worse than she
had with ten. It was as if she could hold an infinite number of them at once.
Which was silly, of course. No one could do that, but... A few thousand? That
seemed a lot more likely, now than it had before. It was tempting to try, just
to see what the limits were.

It wasn't hard to get the rest of
the morning chores done then. It cost thousands of dollars, and there was no
word about the building that her crack fiends were scrubbing as if their lives
depended on it, but that was fine. They had food, and she made a point of
easing their withdrawal symptoms for them, healing the damage done, but only
with orders. She made sure they all used their own energy for it, and corrected
the harm that had been done that way. It would be a bit slower, but save her a
lot of personal work.

That in mind she laid in a
complex set of things for Chief Bob at the same time, just to see if it would
really work. Orders to heal his heart, and then slowly, and with control, begin
to undo age, without allowing cancers to happen. It was right there in her
memories, the ones from Tarsus, that some slaves had been kept for hundreds of
years that way. Even Human ones. Not that a public official would be allowed to
do that yet, but in a few years, with the coming anti-aging treatments, it
might just work. For that matter he could just claim that he was taking an
early test version now, if anyone asked. That, or claim it was a combination of
a low-carb diet and Pilates.

There was a lot to do, since it
was clear that she was really trying to avoid Gregor, and that whole situation
for the moment. That didn't make sense, however, so she forced a fake sigh,
rolled her eyes in her rearview mirror and drove home. Then she very carefully
stepped out of her car, trying to stay ready for the inevitable attack, and
moved directly onto the inroads. The first thing she did was walk around the
outside of her house, looking for traps, or tricks that could let others in. It
wasn't well warded yet, or anything. For that to work well she needed to have
some kind of basic barrier, she thought. It wasn't the only way to do it, but
warding the walls of her own home, while sufficient, would put constant magic
power buzzing around the place. It might get annoying.

So, for the moment, she searched
like a regular person, at least if they had access to the lines, and then very
slowly, taking her time, backtracked and searched at least ten unrelated places
around her city. Then without warning she suddenly headed off at a run, toward
Switzerland. Gregor might have been in charge of North America, but he didn't
live there. He was intimately tied to Rome and Vatican City too, but held
himself away from those places most of the time as well. His main house, a
place that she'd never been to, was far away from there. In the mountains, near
a pleasant looking tiny village. She ended up there after about ten minutes of
jogging, and decided to walk the place first, even though it was mid-afternoon.
It was cute, and had a different sense about it than most places she'd been.
Stone buildings and brightly painted shutters that were supposed to remind a
person of a long time before. An age that most would think of as simpler.
They'd be wrong of course, but it was designed to make you
assume
that.
There weren't even cars in the narrow streets. Just horses and carts.

They probably had lousy internet
service, too. It clearly hadn't been fitted with cable anything, as far as she
could tell. No one had moved any of the stones in the streets for a long time
and there were no lines between buildings. If there were satellites to get
things done, they were being well hidden. It was probably that, since Gregor
would need to be in touch with people, at least occasionally.

The big house, which was
literally at the top of a hill, behind the low city wall, was nice, but not so
much so that it seemed like a castle or palace. A big stone house, with a
bright red roof. That was all. There was a guard outside the door, and he was
dressed in red and yellow, complete with a funny hat, like the Swiss Guard. It
wasn't a mistake, since Gregor was so high up in the Catholic Church that
things like that were probably pretty normal in his world. The man looked at
her closely, lingering on the outfit she wore, since it was rather plain for
visiting important people. Jeans and a yellow t-shirt that hugged her middle
and strained over her breasts. His eyes mainly lingered there however, and a
small smile crossed his lips. It took her a few seconds to get the language
down, but by the time he finished ogling her goodies, she had it well enough.
It was just a matter of finding the right pattern in the set of memories she
held.

"I'm here to see The Cleric.
Gregor. Would you pass the word that the Mistress of Souls has come? I would
appreciate that, if it is allowed." The man would either get it done or
not. If there was a problem... Well, the smart money would run then, because if
a Greater Demon didn't have control over their people when confronted by polite
beings like her, things were falling apart far too badly for them to deal with
one of their own at the moment.

"It will be done.
Immediately." The man didn't move, but a thought came from him, a slightly
glowing thing that ran in a brilliant blue line into the place behind them. It
just traveled through the thick stone of the gray wall. It wasn't visible, not
for a Human, or even most beings, but she was good with magic. This particular
kind was different, however. Not Demon, naturally, but not
Human
either.
Or anything she knew off the top of her head. Similar to other things, but
more... Holy, came to mind as a descriptor. Innocent, and pure. It was
telepathy, much like what she'd been using earlier in the day herself, but this
was kind and gentle, merely passing information, much like the spoken word
would, rather than infiltrating a mind.

Which, as unlikely as it might
have seemed, given the note in her head that purported to be from her, probably
meant it was Angel magic. At least she was supposed to think that, if it was a
trick.
Could
it be anything else?

That was the hard part. Her world
was filled with things that almost had to be out to get her, in very real
terms. If there were such beasts as Angels, then they hid themselves away for some
reason. Unless, as the message had told her, it was really about her own doubt
and inability to manage things, and not that they
hid
, but that she
was... less than perfect that way. If it were the case, the only thing to do
would be allowing herself to change and adapt. That might not be easy, however.
She felt it already. Her mind wanted to turn from the very thought that such
things could be real. She desired to turn away altogether and just run home.
Have a big lunch and maybe listen to some music for a while. It had been a
while since she'd just sat and done that kind of thing.

That, or go visit her friends.
She suddenly missed Hally a lot, and her mother. Even
Zack
, as weird as
that one was. Darla too.

With a focused thought, standing
there on the stone stoop, looking at the being in front of her that was
possibly some version of an Angel, or a being similar to that but more junior,
she clamped all of those feelings down tightly, making herself concentrate on
what was going on. Not rejecting it, but watching and waiting for the trick, or
trap. It was
going
to come, she didn't much doubt. After all, no matter
what was going on, something was
very
incorrect in her world, wasn't it?
Things didn't get that messed up without help. Not if you were sane and reasonable.

A few moments later the door
opened, and Gregor stood there himself, dressed in black slacks, shining shoes
and a rather soft looking sweater over a dark blue suit. His eyes shone a bit
behind his gold rimmed spectacles, and he smiled when he saw her. Happily. It
felt genuine, too. Not like the very well faked things that most of her kind
did to approximate that kind of real feeling.

"Mistress of Souls, what a
pleasant surprise. Please won't you come in?" He moved to the side of the
heavy wooden door, which was plain, but clean and well cared for. The hinges
didn't squeak when he closed it gently behind her at least. The inside of the
place was...

Oppressive
.

It
looked
fine, being
clean, with a lot of exposed wood, but it was a trap. She nearly just started
fighting right then, but it was, most likely, too late. No magic was getting in
or out, after all. Not her kind. She paused and noticed that
some
still
was, heading directly to Gregor, and hitting his head, as she watched, the
whole thing clearer for her suddenly, since most of the noise was gone.

It was telling, if nothing else.
He was constantly communicating with someone at a distance. It was impossible
to trace where the signal went, but this was more of that well organized and
clean magic. The Angel sort.

"Now, not meaning to be
rude, at all of course dear, but if you have an issue, I find that dealing with
them straight out is often the best way to handle them. Unless you came for a
date? Young Zachary
did
mention something along those lines..."

He'd mentioned sex for them both,
flat out, and suggested the same to her, so she could fight against the
remnants of her Human upbringing. She
wasn't
one of them and trying to
live like it would end up with her being killed, she knew. Not instantly, but
things added up, if you lied to yourself too much. Especially if you were one
of her people. It was part of why the insane were so dangerous, she realized.
Only one piece of a very large puzzle fell into place, but it felt right.

"I noticed a note in my
mind, earlier today. It
claimed
to be from myself, and was made using
what seems to be my own internal magic. As if I did the work. I don't remember
making it, which is a little strange. It also says that you were an Angel, the Archangel
Michael, to be precise. And that I needed to get in touch with you and check
this out." She looked around again, and nodded. Then traced the flow of
magic around them with a wave of her hands. "I take it that the Angel part
is correct? The magical structures here are...
Different
. They feel...
good. Organized. It's a bit annoying, but I can see it. Most of my magic is
being blocked here... I can still feel the links to my slaves, but I can't do
anything with them. The information is being choked off?"

The man, who looked a tiny bit
befuddled for an instant blinked at her.

"I can assure you that I'm
not
the Archangel Michael. The very idea is
ridiculous
." There was no
heat to the words, but the statement was too obvious to fool anyone, wasn't it?

"Which one are you then? I'm
afraid that I never bothered to learn that kind of thing, being that, you know,
I figured the whole idea to be
false
. God and all that. Maybe you can
pass him a note for me? I've kind of been showing up in his church and mouthing
things at him for the last few months. It
might
just be pissing him off.
I wouldn't want him to feel mocked."

There was a pause, and then the
man walked away, looking at her over his shoulder and talking, so that she'd
know to follow.

"Not that
I've
heard
of. As far as I know He thinks of you in pleasant terms. My name, my
true
name, is Azaziel. One of the fallen, which is why I've learned to lie, and can
pretend to be one of your people, Keeley. My guess is, if you don't retain a
proper memory of that event, then Michael was the one that approached you. Do
you know why? I...
know
that one actually. It's pretty clear, isn't it?
The very fact that you aren't trying to kill me at this moment is
why
, I
would guess. The fallen, and before you ask,
no
that doesn't mean we
rebelled against
Him
. It simply means that we agreed to be changed to
better serve the creatures of the greater world. If we did not, then even those
such as yourself could not see or remember us. It is a celestial trait. One put
in place centuries ago. Perhaps longer than that. Time does not always run
smoothly for my kind, so the truth is that I'm not perfectly certain." He
kept walking, and didn't speak again until they were in a small room, that held
several soft looking chairs and a fireplace, which wasn't going at the moment,
just standing empty. It was rough stone, laid in with grout, but looked nice,
in a slightly rustic kind of way.