The Demon Deception Read online

  Sam Diabo was making a sandwich when he heard the doorbell ring. Mooch, his gray tabby was meowing on the floor, hoping for a piece of cheese. Sam had been spreading mayonnaise on wheat bread, and put the knife down. He walked over to the door and looked through the peep hole. A frown crossed his face. His craggy features made the frown seem more severe. He unlatched the various locks on the door and then opened it. Lazarus looked at the mountain that stood just inside the door. Sam looked around to see if anybody was with Lazarus. Lazarus stood with his hands in his coat pockets, “Are you going to invite me in?”

  Sam thought about it, “Dunno, maybe.”

  Lazarus walked through the door, not waiting for the invitation. Sam frowned again, “Yeah, come on in, make yourself right at home.”

  Lazarus saw the sandwich makings on the table, “Ah, just in time for lunch.”

  Sam smiled, “It’s ham and cheese. You want me to make you one?”

  It was Lazarus’ turn to frown. Raised from the dead, he had incontrovertible proof about the source of his resurrection, but he still tried to follow the laws of Moses. He was Jewish, after all. A lot of water had gone under the bridge since then, though. He thought about it, and shrugged, “Yeah, sure, I’m hungry.”

  Sam walked back to the kitchen, Lazarus following. Sam stood a good nine inches taller than Lazarus. Sam was an iron worker, with the muscle and broad shoulders that came with the job. He was dressed in a white tank top, blue jeans, and work boots. His arms were cabled with muscle developed working on the One World Trade Center, and from his time in the Marine Corps. He had rugged, good looks that reminded Lazarus of a young Elvis.

  Sam talked as he walked, “So, Eli, you don’t visit, you don’t call. I was thinking we wasn’t friends no more.” His Brooklyn accent punctuated the cadence of the accusation. Eli came from the original pronunciation of Lazarus’ name, Eleazar. In fact, Lazarus’ registered name on his driver’s license was Eli Bethany. Most people wouldn’t get the ancient references, and it didn’t pay to advertise too much, anyway.

  Lazarus shrugged, “Yeah, after that incident in California, I had some things I had to track down.”

  Sam continued making sandwiches. He tore off a corner from the processed American cheese slice and dropped it on the floor. Mooch quickly gobbled it up, and began mewing for more. Sam pulled down another paper plate and made an additional sandwich. His hands looked huge. The muscular slabs manipulated ham and cheese onto the wheat bread. He pulled out tomato and lettuce and put that on both as well. He placed the sandwiches on the table. He walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out two Labatt’s Canadian Ales. He held them up, the question on his face. Lazarus nodded.

  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 wave
d 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.”

  Lazarus pulled a paper from his pocket. He pushed it over to Sam, “This is a list of things I think we’ll need for this mission.”

  Sam stood up, walked over to the trashcan and dropped his empty bottle into the trash. He grabbed two more from the refrigerator. He did the trick of opening them on the counter again. He walked over to table and put one down in front of Lazarus, “How about another one, Eli.” Lazarus finished the one he had, then handed the empty to Sam. That bottle plus the caps were also consigned to the trash. Sam sat down and looked at the list. Sam whistled. The list was extensive.

  “Talk about your World War III. Think you have enough written down here?”

  Lazarus smiled, “God helps those that help themselves. Better to have it and not need it,”

  Sam finished the saying, “Than need it and not have it.” He studied the list, “Law rockets, okay, not sure they make those anymore. Those were replaced by AT-4s.”

  Lazarus shrugged, “That’s what I pay you for, to keep me current.”