Death's Mantle 3 Read online

  A grave expression took shape on her face. “Then you will be doubly interested to hear what I’m proposing. But before I do, I want to finish what I was saying: I am well aware that there are other parasites, ones that you haven’t even gone after before. Ever fought a hatred parasite?”

  “Can’t say that I have.”

  “It’s just an example of the variety that exists. And as you may have also experienced, they can join together.”

  “Yeah, I’ve experienced that,” Lucian said, thinking of Katy’s father. He was glad that she was doing better, but still had the urge to beat himself up for being the cause of her dad’s death in the first place.

  “What I’m trying to say to you here is that I believe we have a few shared values, and opinions as well.”

  “Then you should have spoken up when you could have,” Lucian told her.

  “You know that’s not how politics works. Or at least you should know; you are an American who died in the year 2020.”

  “What about you?” Lucian asked. “When did you die?”

  “Ages ago. I was part of a group of early French settlers in what is now Canada. I got sick, as many of us did, and my predecessor came for me. But rather than accept my fate, I did everything I could to fight back. And mind you, I was so sick that I was no longer able to use my legs. I spit at her, I threw my Bible at her, I crawled out of the room, the woman slowly following me. I managed to bring down a table in the hallway, anything I could do to prevent her from reaching me. I suppose she liked my spunk.”

  “It sounds like it,” said Lucian.

  “So that answers your question. We can discuss it more in detail later, but that’s not why we are here.”

  “You don’t want to have a long conversation about your past life?” Lucian asked her, not able to wipe the shit-eating grin off his face.

  Mastima smiled. It was a very slight smile, but Lucian could tell that he had somehow broken through to her.

  “Later. For now, I’m here to ask you for your help.”

  “You keep saying that, but you never actually ask me.”

  “I need your help going after Gaspard.”

  Lucian almost choked on his next question. “You’re being serious?”

  “Gaspard, while he may seem like a thorn in your side, agrees more with me than you know. Publicly, he maintains the status quo, but we’ve known each other for some time now, and if anyone’s going to be able to do something within the Progeny of Darkness, it will be him. He has connections with the Congress of Death that may be able to help us.”

  “There’s some sort of conspiracy going on, isn’t there?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “So you’re coming to me to help you get Gaspard so you can… What? Overthrow Lord Lifton?”

  “That is one option, yes. Gaspard has powerful friends, like I said. He is much better at toeing the line than I have been, and if someone is able to get something done surreptitiously, it would be him.”

  “That’s the guy that was threatening me the most,” Lucian said. “I don’t care what the cowboy dude does to him.”

  “Wyatt. And that’s another thing.”

  “What’s another thing?”

  “You need to grow stronger,” she reminded him. “Wyatt is in the top tier of Death Hunters. If you were able to kill him, and I would let you take that kill, you would grow exponentially more powerful. I think this is something that would benefit you and what you’re trying to accomplish.”

  “So you get what you want, in freeing Gaspard, and I get what I want in going after Wyatt and taking his power. Is that what you’re suggesting here?”

  The female Death nodded. “That is exactly what I’m suggesting. And because you’ve really made a splash with your entrance into our world, it is clear that you are on Wyatt’s radar as well.”

  “Yeah, I noticed,” Lucian said, recalling that the guy had tried to take him at the beach as well. He may have accomplished it too, had it not been for Azazyel showing up.

  “What makes you think he has kept Gaspard alive?”

  “They have a checkered past; I have a feeling he would not dispose of him too quickly. He would want Gaspard to suffer.”

  “Gee, that sounds sort of like what Gaspard wanted to do to me.”

  “I’m aware that the two of you aren’t exactly friends, but this is bigger than both of you, Lucian,” she said firmly. “I need your help. Will you join me?”

  “Why do I get the feeling that I’m going to regret this?” Lucian asked.

  “Because that’s the feeling everyone gets before they make a big decision. Meet me on the beach in a day, in the afternoon. If you’re there, I will assume that you have joined me. If you’re not, then…”

  “What? You’ll make hell for me?”

  She slowly shook her head. “No, I’ll just attempt to do it myself.”

  “So you’re giving me some time to think about it?”

  Mastima nodded.

  “Thanks for that,” Lucian said as he pressed his thumb and pinky together.

  Chapter Three: Sand in the Wind

  Lucian went to a place where he used to go to relax.

  It was odd being at the beach in Portland, Maine, especially after what had happened there. To see everything in its right place was more unsettling than he thought it would be, from the bench on the cliff to the right of the beach with the paint peeling off it, to the recently remodeled lighthouse on its far side, no sign at all that a terrible battle with grave repercussions had been waged there.

  Lucian didn’t know exactly why he’d come to the beach, only that he needed a little time to think before returning to Old Death’s world, and he secretly hoped that Danira would pick up on his presence and join him.

  Of all the people he wanted to talk to at that moment, she was at the top of the list, followed by Yoshimi, whom Lucian would get in touch with soon.

  For a moment, he thought about carving the letters S-O-S in the sand, as if that would do any good.

  Lucian recalled reading a story before he died about a man in Alaska who had accidentally burnt part of his home down and had done just that. The man’s vehicle wouldn’t start, forcing him to camp out for three weeks, using the ash to write S-O-S in the snow, darkening it daily.

  Three weeks.

  The guy was younger than Lucian, too; he remembered wondering at the time what had sent this man to a cabin in the woods in the middle of nowhere Alaska. The man was eventually rescued, saying in the interview that followed that he was planning to move back to Utah, to be closer to his family.

  Lucian grimaced.

  S-O-S.

  He was wasting time, and he knew it.

  But he didn’t have the motivation at the moment to hunt, and going after parasites wasn’t going to be his ticket to getting the power he needed to rid his family of his brother’s parasite.

  Lucian also couldn’t help but ponder how his brother was going to be responsible for their deaths.

  He didn’t want to dwell on it, he only wanted to do something about it.

  “Why are we here?” he asked his crows, both of whom were playing in the water. His Grim Mechas were standing guard behind him.

  But no one answered. Lucian shook his head.

  Sure, he could summon Hugin over to him and have his spherical creation provide some conversation, but that was a bit pathetic.

  And he would eventually go back to his home, where he could converse with Old Death, but that wasn’t sitting well with him at the moment, either.

  Lucian felt like he was in purgatory.

  “Heh,” he said under his breath, as he explored this thought for a moment, concluding that it really was the case; he really was in purgatory. He was certainly between Heaven and Hell, even though he still didn’t believe either existed; he was stuck in this state until he gave up his mantle.

  Maybe he should have given up his mantle...

  It would have been easy too; he could have just
shown up on the beach without making plans with his predecessor, and then quickly given into Gaspard’s demand.

  And then what? What happened after Death died?

  That was another thing Lucian had to make a decision about.

  Would he actually help Mastima rescue Gaspard?

  Although she had a good point in saying that he could absorb Wyatt’s power, that still entailed physically overpowering the Death Hunter, which Lucian knew wasn’t going to be easy.

  “Decisions, decisions,” he said, staring out at the water, a pale sun hovering over it.

  He didn’t even know the name of the beach. This thought came to Lucian as he continued to enjoy the view.

  He had come there so many times, only knowing that the beach was in South Portland, and that the best place to park to get there was in the neighborhoods that surrounded the cove, practically to the front door of the million-dollar homes built around this incredible spot.

  “Feeling sorry for yourself?”

  Lucian was on his feet in a moment, his MX-11 materializing in his hands.

  He relaxed his guard when he saw that it was Leliel, his Grim Mechas not at all disturbed by her presence.

  It made sense.

  They knew who she was, or rather, he knew who she was and through an extension of Lucian’s consciousness they knew as well.

  “I’m not feeling sorry for myself,” Lucian told the brunette as she approached. The fallen angel wore armor similar to one of Danira’s getups, mostly white and gold, the wings on her ankles slowly flapping.

  “It sure looks like it.”

  “I discovered something bad today,” Lucian said.

  “You did?”

  “My family. They all have the same death date now. It’s tied to my brother. And there’s nothing I can do about it. Not yet, anyway.”

  “I see,” she finally said.

  “But you should be happy. Your man is still alive,” said Lucian, referring to his predecessor.

  “He… he is?” she asked, the woman smiling and then immediately frowning. “Why didn’t he let me know?”

  “I don’t know how you two communicate, first off. He’s also in the body of a cat. Maybe he wasn’t too stoked about you seeing him in that form.”

  “Maybe,” she said, a knowing look taking shape on her face. “But I wouldn’t mind having a pet.”

  “He’s not a great pet,” Lucian said. “Real chatty, coughs up a lot of hairballs.”

  “I suppose that’s fine.”

  “How did you know I would come here?”

  “I have also been waiting for you to come here, I’ll admit that.”

  “Can’t you just go to his world and find me there?”

  “I can, but I didn’t want to intrude. I…” Leliel bit her lip. “You and I don’t really have a relationship, not yet, anyway, so I didn’t want to be too forthcoming. I didn’t want to just show up.”

  “Look, you can be as forthcoming as you want, just don’t show up with any fallen angels, or non-fallen angels, or anything else tailing you. That’s my last refuge. Our last refuge.”

  “Yes, our last refuge,” the former angel said. “Should we go there now?”

  “I was going to sit here for a little while longer feeling sorry for myself, but maybe bailing on this beach is a better idea. And maybe your boyfriend can help me figure this whole thing out.”

  “We should see your family first,” Leliel said. “At least your brother. I have slain these kinds of demons before. Perhaps my ax will do the trick.”

  An absolutely enormous golden ax formed in her hand, energy radiating off its bit. She flourished the weapon, nodding to Lucian.

  “All right,” he finally said. He whistled, his crows returning to him. “Worth a shot.”

  Lucian reached his hand out to the fallen angel and touched his pinky and thumb together, the two reappearing outside of his brother’s home.

  Once they floated inside, Lucian found the place empty, assuming that his brother was in the basement.

  Tuck the cat looked up at the angel, the Grim Reaper, and the two Grim Mechas, noping the hell out of the room in a flash of fur, the cat nearly sliding into the wall as it sped away.

  “The cat always sees me,” Lucian explained to the fallen angel.

  “Some do, some don’t. They are bizarre creatures. Is anyone here?”

  “Basement,” Lucian said, starting to float down into the floor.

  Sure enough, his brother was sprawled out on the leather couch in the basement, sleeping, an uncomfortable look on his face, breathing heavily. His kit was out, white powder on the circular mirror he used to lay his lines out.

  His death date appeared before Lucian:

  Name: Connor North

  Date of Birth: 11/01/1980

  Date of Death: 12/01/2020

  “Such a killer,” Leliel said. “If you only knew the number of humans I have seen pass from addiction. Their vices have changed over the years, some of them staying longer than others, but it’s always there.”

  “You were an angel,” Lucian said, realizing that was a dumb way to start a sentence. He tried again. “When you were making your rounds, you fed off hope, right?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “I talked to Danira a little bit about that. It kind of confuses me, to be honest,” Lucian said as he took his brother in. “I understand our role in all of this, you know, helping people pass. But I don’t quite understand your role at times. Or your former role. You get stronger because of hope, right?”

  “We are sustained by hope.”

  “And you can deal with these parasites too?”

  “Yes, but we don’t see them as parasites, we see them as demons. With enough hope, we are able to kill certain types of demons, but there are others that we don’t touch. Like the one that the Progeny of Darkness are known for going after, the ones keeping a person artificially alive. We don’t normally touch on those ones. But with others, we try to do what we can do, such as the one attached to your brother.”

  “The addiction parasite.”

  “Yes,” she said, bringing her golden ax to the ready.

  Lucian could see the parasite’s bulge, his brother currently lying on it. Its skin was clear with yellow running through it; the demon bug hadn’t yet acknowledged their presence.

  “Wait,” Lucian said as Leliel stepped forward.

  He equipped his particle-beam cannon, his bone armor starting to form, the mask solidifying over his face. “Just in case. When these things let loose, it ain’t pretty.”

  “No, it’s not,” she said.

  Lucian’s two Grim Mechas also moved into an attack formation. His two crows docked onto the first replicant he had created, settling on its shoulders, their beaks facing outward.

  “I’m ready,” Lucian said.

  Leliel charged forward with her ax, bringing it down on his brother’s parasite. It went straight through, her action causing the fallen angel to tumble to the side.

  One of Lucian’s Grim Mechas caught her, startling Leliel.

  “Thanks,” she said as Lucian’s replicant helped her back to her feet.

  “Figured as much,” Lucian said, lowering his weapon. “It’s going to take a miracle.”

  “No, it will take hard work and determination. I’m not as strong as I used to be, especially now that I am…” She looked down, her ax disappearing. “Now that I am the way I am. I can no longer feed off hope. My power is slowly dwindling. It will take a long time for it to completely leave, but the only way for me to grow stronger would be to go after my kind or your kind, similar to Azazyel.”

  “So that’s why he does it, huh?” Lucian asked, still fixated on his brother. Connor was snoring now, a bit of drool at the side of his mouth.

  “It is precisely why.”

  “Good to know,” Lucian said, and he was just about to port away too when he heard a noise above.

  “Oh, no,” Lucian said, looking to the stairs that led in
to the basement.

  “Did you hear me?” Samantha called out.

  When Lucian’s brother didn’t respond, his fiancé came down into the basement to find him sleeping, Samantha starting to smirk until she noticed Connor’s kit.

  “Connor…” she said, approaching him slowly.

  “Wha-?” he started to ask.

  “What’s… What’s this?”

  She motioned toward the evidence of his addiction.

  “Shit!” Connor shouted, whipping around. He tried to sweep everything off the table but stopped himself just in time, the addict in him not willing to waste the powder still on the mirror.

  “Connor?” she asked again, confusion setting in, blips of realization also starting to show. “What are you…?”

  “Shit, Sam, I c-can explain!”

  “You’re… you’re using drugs?”

  “It’s not like that!” he started to protest.

  “I can’t watch this,” Lucian told Leliel, his chest filling with anguish.

  “It’s not like what?” Sam asked, her voice rising. “You’re doing drugs now!? We’re getting married in December, and you’re unemployed, and you’re doing drugs?”

  “Sam, wait. Sam! SAM!” Connor shouted, chasing after her, running straight through Lucian.

  “Yes, maybe we should go,” Leliel finally said. “This is only going to get worse.”

  “Yeah…” he told her, turning just as his brother made it to the top of the stairs, Lucian’s eyes fixated on the parasite attached to the back of his head, its bulbous body partially hidden by his shirt. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Four: Cats and Fallen Angels

  Lucian and Leliel reformed in Old Death’s world.

  They were standing outside Lucian’s workshop, on the cliff, the saber city in the distance. The sun was setting, and as the two settled, Old-Death-as-Ezra came running over to them.

  “My love,” he said, brushing his body up against her leg.

  “Cuthbert,” she said, her voice softening as she crouched to pet him.