Echoes of the Past

Chapter Twelve

I made it a little ways into downtown before the clunker went on to visit Azrael. It trembled and shook and farted out a couple of mean backfires, like a good burrito morning, before the lights on the dash flickered. Then it died. I managed to get it to the curb. I was back to walking, but I needed something to alter my appearance or it was gonna be a short trip.

A quick search of the backseat turned up a couple pair of work shirts and a ratty hoodie that looked like it was meant to be worn by an elephant. I slipped the jacket on to cover the blood from my injuries, which were already healing, and cringed at the smell. It was like a mix of skunk and baby poo, sharpened with the vinegar love of a cat, which clearly thought the hoodie needed that something extra to top it off.

My nose being assailed, I hopped out casually like I’d meant to park there, wherever I was, and wandered off. There was a moment after I’d walked about a block when I thought I should go back and wipe away evidence, but there really wasn’t any point. I was already looking at being charged with killing a federal agent, so what was a tiny case of hoodie and vehicle theft gonna matter? They could only kill me once.

My eyes swiveled in their sockets, as inconspicuous as I could make that appear, and scanned the streets and the sky for any DSI agents that might swoop down on top of me. I didn’t see much of anything, having likely slipped the fed’s cordon before it could be set up. The roads were busier than they had been in Old Town, less of the supernatural hijinks wafting over the line into the heart of the city. That made it a little easier to blend in, despite my inherited super-funk.

Vendors stood outside their shops and shouted at passersby, a duel of competing voices trying to draw customers to their stores and away from their neighbor’s. No one paid attention to me once they got a whiff of the jacket. A funk like this didn’t often come with money, so they let me be. In fact, folks cleared the way so I could pass. How considerate. I should piss on my clothes more often.

Once I was past the market district, the constant screech of sales pitches settled and drifted into the background. Though the area I was walking through wasn’t exactly on the highbrow scale, it was a far cry from the low-rent shanties I’d just passed. The shops here carried themselves with a little more class, and a lot more pretension. They weren’t rundown; they were aged. The walls had been covered in bright-colored mosaics to keep the gang-bangers from tagging them up. The art looked like a baby puked up a box of crayons, but what do I know? I’m no art critic, I’m just critical.

There was a local pharmacy, on the end of the block, dealing in chintzy herbal products and a couple of coffee houses next door with patios that butted up against the street. There’s nothing like a good dose of car exhaust to complement an overpriced latte.

Squeezed between a tattoo parlor, lighted up like Las Vegas, and an unassuming day spa, was a tiny little bookstore that catered to the literate few who were too cheap to go to the big box stores or too cultured to shop online. The shelves inside the windows were lined with classics. Grimm’s Fairy Tales, Huckleberry Finn, and Moby Dick stood out as I walked past. I stopped to take a look. Not a huge reader of fiction-which didn’t come without a cellophane wrapper-the gilded, old fashioned style books weren’t really of much interest to me, but they reminded me of Abe.

His office was full of old tomes and ancient scripts. Every time I’d walk into it, the smell would hit me. There was history in that smell, thousands of years of magic and memories carved onto sheets that have weathered the worst humanity had to throw at them. They were a testament to the dedication and desires of the human race to pass their knowledge on to the next generation. They used to remind me of my mother, too, in a good way, but today, the thoughts were sour. I didn’t know what to think about her being with Lucifer. I didn’t know how to feel. Did it change anything about her?

It damn well changed how I felt about Lucifer. Did he have me kill my father just to hide the fact he had an affair with his brother’s wife? It was all too confusing. It was also something I told myself I didn’t want to think about, yet here I was doing it. I shook my head to clear the cobweb of memories away and turned away to see a flying monkey.

There comes a time in your life when you reflect back and wonder if all the alcohol and drugs you’ve indulged in, and the multitude of concussions you’ve endured, have done some deep, irreparable damage to your brain. Right then was my time to do so.

Given a surreal moment to ponder my situation, I realized there wasn’t just one flying monkey, but at least a dozen. They were all dressed in gray vests with a red zigzag pattern sewn at the front and down the sleeves. They each wore little bellhop hats. Their black, bat-like wings fluttered behind them as they hovered in the street, crooked little monkey grins on their faces.

I glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed the flying monkeys, and felt a little better about the state of my sanity. People pointed and laughed, and it wasn’t at me.

Movement behind the monkey brigade drew my gaze. I saw an old woman in a long black dress. The skin of her face and hands were a bright green, and she wore a black hat that rose up into a sharp point, a large buckle set above the brow. In her gnarled hand was an old-style straw broom.

Once more I looked to see if I was the only person eyeballing the witch. She made it easy to tell that I wasn’t.

“Fly, my pretties, fly!” She cackled and pointed a gnarled finger at me.

The monkeys rose up into the air and began circling, chittering madly. I could only hope none of them had to shit. Pigeons had nothing on these guys. The monkeys were on me a second later.

Let me tell you, flying monkey bites hurt.

Not emotionally ready to be attacked by the villains from the Wizard of Oz-come on, is anybody? — I stood there like an idiot. The next thing I knew I was being battered and bitten all across my head, arms, and torso. Wings slapped me, adding insult to injury. The only solace I had in being the target of a monkey gangbang was that the hoodie I was wearing smelled even worse than they did. I was hoping they’d catch something.

Under the assault, I felt the sharp sting of magic adding weight to my injuries. I needed to act fast or, as embarrassing as it was, I’d be taken out by a second rate Beatles act. Black ooze dribbled from my wounds and I batted a couple of the monkeys away so I could draw upon my power. I envisioned a skin tight shield forming around me and felt my magic comply, gaining a sudden reprieve from injury, if not from attack.

Not happy to just protect myself, I needed to fight back. I pictured fire across the external side of the shield, and with a huff of breath, I expanded it like a balloon. My magic ignited and puffed up at the same time, catching the wannabe Yahoos off guard. Their precious little vests and monkey fur erupted with flames, and they were flung away in screeching heaps. Most of them burst into clouds of black dust before they even hit the ground, the rest shattering on impact.

“My pretties!” the witch screamed as she hopped on her broomstick.

I thought about dropping a house on her head or maybe tossing a bucket of water, but I really didn’t want to hear her bitching about how she was melting. I had a bit of headache. Given more options than Dorothy, and since it seemed I was reliving someone’s twisted movie fetish, I decided to conjure up my own remake.

“Make my day, witch.” My gun in hand, I put a bullet through her green face. Energy burst from the hole in the back of her head, and she vanished without a sound. It was seriously anti-climactic, especially after all the effort someone did to colorize her.

A pretty good idea who was rattling my cage, I reached out and pinged on a solid presence. It was alien and nearby. I spun about and spied the strange being I’d seen at my house earlier, after the werewolf attack. He strode out of the bookstore, carrying an old tome, held in a way so I couldn’t tell what it was. Given the Wizard of Oz treatment, I realized it hadn’t been a true specter I’d fought earlier, but a phantom. It had been brought to life out of a book, which was way cooler. Mind you, it would have been even better if I weren’t the target, but it was still cool. I suspected whatever was inside the book in his hand would be popping up to take a shot at me next. I could only hope he was carrying the novelization of Deep Throat.

The alien’s fiery eyes locked on me. “My master is most displeased with you.” His voice was smooth, the words perfectly formed, but they came out without any kind of inflection. There was no emotion behind them, as if he were reading cue cards.

“Who are you?” I asked, raising my gun, figuring that was as good a place to start as any.

“I am known as Mihheer, servant to Lord Gorath.” Mihheer bowed, keeping his eyes on me. “My master sends his regrets, and wishes suffering upon you before he steals the light from your eyes.”

How generous. “I’m not sure who you or your boss is, but I’ve pissed off a lot of people in my day. Could you, I don’t know, maybe refresh my memory as to what I’ve done?”

He stared at me a moment, his eyes narrowed, before flashing me his shark-toothed grin. “Gorath said you might well deny your trespass, liar that you are, so he has allowed me the freedom to deal with you as I see fit.” A wash of blue eclipsed the hand that held the book, its energy seeping into the pages.

Not wanting to see what came next, I fired. Mihheer flung the book aside and dodged, my shot shattering the window behind him. The glass companies were gonna get rich off me. He laughed as I took another shot, which he also avoided. The guy was fast. I adjusted my aim to lead him just a little more in hopes of catching him when a shadow darkened the ground around me. It was like standing under a massive storm cloud. I glanced up and whiteness filled my eyes.

The tightening of my sphincter gave me just enough spring as I dove from beneath the falling behemoth. Barely out of the way, I hit the ground the same time the white shape did. The earth rumbled and the asphalt shattered under the weight, sending jagged cracks careening down the street. I bounced a couple of times, smacking the road, and then rolled to an abrupt stop at the curb. My head spun and I blinked my eyes clear to stare at the thing that had fallen from the sky.

It was Moby Dick; the whale, not a judgment regarding the performer.

…and he was still alive.

Moby thrashed, its tail laying waste to the tattoo parlor in a single swipe. Lights exploded and sent sparks zipping into the air. The acrid scent of an electrical fire sprung up in its wake. The people who’d bravely watched me dispatch the witch and her cronies screamed and scattered. Apparently, a whale falling from the sky was too much for them where flying monkeys were just entertainment. I looked up to see Mihheer still smiling, hovering a short distance away. Another shadow fell over top of me.

I snapped off a quick shot to keep the alien on his metaphorical toes, and darted for the gray slats of sunlight that made it through the clouds. Yet again, another whale crashed into the earth with a boom louder than thunder. I ducked for cover behind a parked car as chunks of asphalt and concrete were flung about by the impact. Peeking from behind my makeshift shield, I noticed the second whale was also white; another Moby Dick.

Where was Ahab when you needed him?’

The two whales keened in distress, their voices burying the world under a piercing wave of high-pitched trills. Mihheer had disappeared, but the streets were full of stupid people. They’d rushed out of the shops only to be crushed beneath the bulk of the whales and their frantic tails. My ears ringing, I caught sight of a woman pointing upward, her eyes wide with terror. I followed her silent finger and felt my balls shrivel and pop in the sack.

Above us were dozens of whales falling from the sky, their mass covering several city blocks. My breath froze in my lungs and a cold sweat broke out across my body. A whole bunch of people were gonna die, and it was my fault. Worse still, there was nothing I could do to stop it.

The rain of whales coming down, I stashed my gun and darted forward. A growl ripped free of my throat. I snatched up the woman who still pointed in disbelief, and cut into a nearby alley. For all her thinness, she felt heavy to me, but now wasn’t the time to judge her for it. The best I could, I plotted where the whales would hit and tried to avoid being underneath when one did. The buildings obscuring the skyline, I didn’t have much hope. The woman shrieked as one of the Mobys took out the building behind us, and then fell silent, passing out in my arms. I flung her over my shoulder and turned to protect her head from the flying debris. Shards of glass, steel, and concrete peppered us as I ran. Wet drops of something followed right after. I didn’t want to think about it.

Moby was a sperm whale, after all.

Back out on the street, the block behind exploding, I looked again to judge the whale fall while trying to keep an eye out for Mihheer. My senses were on overdrive, but there was no way to tell whether I was picking up the alien or simply the resonance of the power that had brought the book to life. All around me were the screams of the injured and afraid. My heart went out to them, but if I didn’t keep moving, I’d be just one more squished bag of flesh right alongside them. There was no way in hell I was going out like that: crushed by a giant Dick.

At the edge of the fall, I veered off and dodged another whale. It took out the bar we’d just passed. I heard the shattering of glass and mourned the death of the liquor. The impact nearly took my feet out from under me. I scrambled not to drop the unconscious woman. She flopped against my shoulder and I knew she’d be black and blue come tomorrow, but at least she’d have a tomorrow. A bunch of folks just out for coffee wouldn’t be able to say that.

At last, I made it clear of the whales coming and breathed a relieved sigh. Sweat dripped into my eyes, and it felt like I’d run a marathon. People gathered in the street watching the ruin of their neighborhood with wide eyes and excited voices. I couldn’t imagine Michael even trying to smooth this away. There wouldn’t be any hiding the supernatural element of this event.

Muted sirens joined the cacophony of chaotic sounds. That was my cue to leave. I handed the woman over to the crowd and made my exit, doing my best to keep my face turned away. I probably didn’t have to worry about it, given what was going on nearby, but it couldn’t hurt. My mug was probably plastered all over a dozen security cameras, and it wasn’t likely that all of them would meet their destruction by whale ass.

If the DSI hadn’t called in their markers to hunt me down before, they sure as shit were gonna do it now. I needed to get outside their jurisdiction and figure out what I was gonna do. There was only one place to go where I had any hope of being safe.

I laughed, remembering something Scarlett had told me a long time ago. She said I’d end up in Hell. Guess she was right.