The Demon Deception (8 page)

Sam popped the tops on the bottles by setting
them against the counter, and hitting the top of the bottle. He set
a beer next to each sandwich. Sam motioned and Lazarus moved to the
chair indicated and sat down. He watched as Sam sat down. Sam wiped
the straight, thick, black bangs from his face, which immediately
fell back into place.

Sam picked up a sandwich, and motioned for
Lazarus to do the same. Lazarus joined him. They bit into the
sandwiches. Mooch was trying to find a way up to the top of the
table to join them. Sam chewed and swallowed, following the bite
with a drink of beer. Lazarus pinched off the corners of his cheese
and fed them to Mooch.

Sam spoke, “So, let me get this clear. You
left me in the mountains after we killed thirty lycans, and
destroyed an entire vampire coven, because you had to track down
some things?”

Lazarus continued to chew slowly. The
mayonnaise was spicy. He didn’t say anything, knowing that Sam
would have to get this out of his system.

Sam took another drink, then put the beer
down, “Do you know the crap I had to go through to get out of
California without being arrested for the war that you drug me
into? They take a very dim view of citizens with firearms in that
state.”

Lazarus nodded, “Yeah, unless you’re a pot
grower, then you get a slap on the wrist. Still, you have to admit,
it was fun killing a bunch of hippies.”

Sam thought about it, and a calm smile slowly
spread across his face. The crags and sharp angles disappeared for
a moment while he contemplated the hippies and yippies that he
killed in the mountains of Cali. They were no longer human of
course, demonically possessed. Every one of them had damned
themselves for power. He’d really enjoyed killing the director and
two producers from Hollywood. They’d been responsible for screwing
up one of his favorite book series when they brought it to the
silver screen. That had definitely been a bonus.

Sam nodded, and pointed at Lazarus’ chest
with a finger the size of a kielbasa, “Okay, you got a point there.
But I had to take the most god awful back roads to get the hell out
of California before they put me into prison. I really didn’t want
to be caught with M4s and .45s. Plus, God help me, I had lead
ammunition. They’d have thrown me in with gen pop, and I don’t fit
in with any of the big gangs. I’d of had to kill a lot of people to
stay alive.”

Lazarus took another bite, and drank some
beer, “Naw, I wouldn’t have let it get that far. I would have
killed you before you had to worry about anything like that. I
wouldn’t let you suffer. Besides, they probably would have given
you the death penalty for the lead ammunition.” Lazarus took
another bite, chewed, and swallowed, “I had faith that you’d get
away. You’re capable. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have been
working with me, choir boy.”

Sam’s chewing slowed as he contemplated what
Lazarus had just told him. If anybody could kill him in gen pop and
not get caught, it was Lazarus. He spent seven years watching and
helping Lazarus kill monsters before Cali. The man had skills honed
by two thousand years of hard use. Two thousand years of muscle
memory was an amazing thing.

Sam was good at killing. He trained as a
scout/sniper in the Marine Corps. He killed in Iraq and
Afghanistan. He fought to clear Fallujah in Iraq, and Marjeh in
Afghanistan, and he knew killing. Still, his skills were nothing
compared to Lazarus. Sam was a child compared to him. He had
learned much more from the small man.

Sam knew everything about Lazarus. He had
known everything about Lazarus before he met him. He knew that
Saint Lazarus had been a Bishop in the nascent Christian church,
living on the island of Cyprus. He also knew that Lazarus, or Eli
as he preferred to be called, had a wife and children. They grew
older, and he didn’t. He kept living, not changing, not aging.

It was a miracle, but many on the island grew
wary of him, and they began to fear what they didn’t understand.
The talk changed from miracle, and started mentioning deals with
the devil. They began talking about witchcraft. This was
problematic, so he had to make alternative plans. The body of
pauper who had passed took care of the problem. The pauper had a
grand funeral, his body used to bury Bishop Lazarus and put an end
to his public career for the church.

After that, he roamed the Mediterranean, the
Roman pond, never in one place for too long. He grew tired of the
careless cruelty of the Romans. He decided he should learn about
war. He joined the Roman legions to learn as much as he could about
his enemy. He learned warfare, tactical, strategic, and personal.
He learned the use and trappings of power, hoping to find a way to
stop the Roman Empire.

That all changed on the day that Michael, the
patron saint of Soldiers, appeared to him, and gave him a new
mission. Lazarus learned about the world of magic and demonic
possession. He began the dance with Lilith and other minions of the
Great Deceiver around the world, trying to contain the damage that
they wrought on mankind.

He had his successes, but the demons had
many, many more, and on greater scales. He couldn’t be everywhere
at once, no matter how hard he tried. So Lazarus relied on days
like today, when he could at least save one precious soul.

Sam leaned back in his chair, the sandwich
finished, and he sipped his beer, “So, explain to me why you left
me in Cali.”

“I found a lead to Lilith. I had to move
quickly, or the window of opportunity would close. I had a judgment
call. I knew we had cleaned most of the monsters out, there were
just a few left for you to deal with. I left it to you to finish
our business there so that I could find Lilith.”

Sam considered this, still sipping his beer.
He leaned the chair back so that the front legs were off the
ground, and his voice was frigid, rage barely contained, “Did you
find her? I mean, did you kill her?”

Lazarus shook his head, “No, by the time I
got there, the trail had gone cold. I wasn’t able to find her.”

Lazarus took a sip of his beer, and let it
slip, “At least not then.”

Sam grew very still, a muscle twitching on
the side of his face, “And now? Do you know where she is now?”

Lazarus looked at him, sympathy in his eyes,
“Yes, I know. And I need your help. But you aren’t going to like
what I have to tell you.”

Sam scowled at Lazarus, “What’s the problem.
We find her, we destroy her, we send her back to hell until she
comes crawling out again. Rinse, repeat.”

Lazarus shook his head, “Things have gotten,”
he hesitated, “complicated.”

The front legs of the chair thumped down
against the floor, Sam’s eyes filled with fury. His little brother,
Mikey, had been taken. Sam was only seven years old when his little
brother was kidnapped, and never seen again. Sam had been playing
outside, furious that his mom made him take Mikey outside with him.
He wanted to play with the older kids, and knew they wouldn’t let
him if his little brother was tagging along.

So he made Mikey sit on the steps as he
played in the streets. When he came back, Mikey was gone. The
entire neighborhood turned out to find him, but he was never seen
again. Sam never forgave himself for what had happened. He didn’t
know where to channel his anger until he met Lazarus.

“Tell me,” Sam responded, “Tell me where she
is.”

Lazarus knew this was dangerous, but he
needed Sam. He needed Sam to watch his back. Lazarus knew he was
walking into a trap. There was no one more capable than Sam to help
him. Sam knew how to deal violence, and he knew how to control the
violence he dealt. He was able to govern his emotions, no matter
what was happening. He was also very skilled in a wide range of
weaponry, from blades to heavy machineguns.

Plus, Sam had something that was rare for a
man that had killed that many people. He had pure motives. He never
killed for his own benefit, or to feed any psychological need.
Violence had one use in Sam’s world. Violence was necessary to keep
bad people from doing bad things. Sam knew it was a violent world.
He knew there were some people in the world that needed killing, to
protect the others that couldn’t defend themselves. He had no
nightmares, no faces in his dreams to haunt him.

Sam was a student of history. He was a huge,
dangerous man, but he wasn’t a stupid one. Many people looked at
him, looked at his brawn, and underestimated his intellect. Sam,
like most good warriors, was a student of history. He knew that the
natural state of mankind was war. Peace was ephemeral. Throughout
history, when men were reluctant to fight, yearning for peace, they
often left themselves open for the predation of other, violent
men.

Those violent, evil men were willing to use
this reluctance against those peaceful men. The Nazis and
Chamberlain were perfect examples of this. Sam knew that he was
better off preparing for conflict, not because he reveled in war
and violence, but because he never wanted to rely on the vague
prospect of other men’s kindness and peaceful intent to protect him
and the people he loved.

He was just fine with being the one that did
the killing. The weak perished. That was why he drove himself to be
strong, to be combat ready. He was strong, to protect the weak, the
innocent. He wanted to make sure there were no more Mikeys.

Lazarus spoke slowly, “I just had breakfast
with her.”

Sam was stunned, the bottle slamming onto the
table. He leaned forward, poking a finger towards Lazarus, “What
the hell. You had breakfast with that evil bitch? You should’ve
killed her.”

Lazarus stayed still until Sam controlled the
raw emotion. Sam stood up, walked around the kitchen, and finally
slammed his hand against the counter, several times. Lazarus was
afraid the counter would splinter under the blows.

Lazarus continued, “I couldn’t. My orders
were received from the boss. In fact, they want me to work with
her.”

“
The hits just keep on coming,”
Sam
thought, “Are you kidding me? What in God’s own name would induce
them to have you work with the vilest woman ever created?”

Lazarus wiped the sweat off the bottle of
beer, “There are things that you aren’t aware of. How familiar are
you with multiple dimensions, or alternate realities?”

Sam shrugged, still pissed that Lilith wasn’t
dead, “dunno, I’ve read some science fiction, seen some movies,
that’s about it.”

Lazarus leaned forward, “What if I told you
that other dimensions are real, and that there are entities out
there that want to invade our world, and feast on the souls of the
population of this planet?”

Sam’s eyes grew wide, his expression serious,
“What, like H.P. Lovecraft or something?”

Lazarus leaned back, and nodded, “Or
something, indeed.”

Sam was intrigued, though still pissed that
Lilith was alive, “So, tell me more. What the hell’s going on?”

Lazarus continued, “They’re out there,
waiting. No, more than that, they’re actively trying to breach our
reality, and invade our world. Entities that we can only guess at
are planning to destroy all life on this planet. If they get here,
they’ll devour everything, annihilate everything, until the planet
is desolate, and there’s nothing left. Then they’ll move on, find
other realities to invade, other planets to destroy, other life to
devour.”

He paused to take a drink, then continued,
“These ‘others’ survive not only on the chemical and physical
properties of life, but they also use the souls and living force of
that life to power their magic, to open portals between
universes.”

Sam stopped him, “They sound like locusts.
How is this different from the forces of Satan? His minions also
plan to destroy all souls, to create their hellish realm on
earth.”

Lazarus shook his head, “Those damned souls
are never destroyed. Once a soul is created in our universe, it’s
never destroyed.”

Sam leaned back, confused, “I thought that
Satan was the great destroyer. I thought everything he touched was
warped.”

Lazarus shook his head again, “No, he’s
called the great destroyer because he corrupts the world around us,
and the souls that he perverts. He cannot feed on or destroy the
souls that he corrupts, however. But that can change.”

Sam asked the question, “How?”

Lazarus leaned back, spread his hands wide,
“How do you think?”

Sam thought, “Ah, the end of times,
Armageddon.”

Lazarus nodded, “Yes, if the Deceiver wins,
then he can feast on his corrupted souls, and even target the
innocent, the incorruptible. Nothing will be forbidden to him.
That’s partially how he’s kept in check. If he wins, he’ll truly
become the destroyer, the ultimate predator.”

Sam made the logical leap, “And you need my
help.”

Lazarus nodded again, “I need you to watch my
back, again. I’m going up against forces that I have little
knowledge about, and I’ll have Lilith and her friends to contend
with as well.”

He leaned back, and took another drink of
beer, “So you see my problem. Your tender feelings aside, I need
your help.” He put an innocent look on his face, and batted his
eyelashes, “Please.”

Sam was moody, but he laughed, “Yeah, well,
you had me at ‘are you going to invite me in.’”

Sam walked over to the table, took the paper
plates and put them in the garbage can. He pulled open a cabinet,
pulled two candy bars out and tossed one over to Lazarus,
“Dessert?”

Lazarus caught the candy bar, then peeled the
wrapper off and began eating, “I guess this means I’m
forgiven?”

Sam smirked, “Sure, just as soon as your
money hits my bank account.”

Lazarus smiled, “At least my money is good
here.”

Sam waved what was left of his candy bar in a
circle, “Oh, your money’s always good. And, thanks for the monthly
stipend. That helped augment the ironworker’s salary. After all, I
have bills to pay. Despite your many faults, leaving me in Cali
being one of them, you have good intentions. Besides, I feel better
when I work with you. I know that you sleep with the angels. That
speaks to my Catholic upbringing.”