Demonic Designs (To Absolve the Fallen) (31 page)

“Okay,” Alex said.
 
“So I’m the son of old money.
 
Anything else I should know?”

“For starters,” Marla replied, “your style is going to change.
 
How do you feel about imported silk?”

“I guess it’s fine.
 
What’s wrong with what I have on?”

Marla smiled.
 
“That’s what everyone is going to expect you to be wearing.
 
Besides, jeans and shirts with trendy logos don’t say son of a millionaire.”

“Well, I suppose I could use a change of clothes.”

“And hair,” Marla added.

“Hair?” Alex asked, suddenly concerned.

“Yep.
 
We’re going to cut it shorter and dye it brown.”

“Uh, Marla, I like my hair.”

“Sweetheart, I’m sure you like your clothes too, but the more different you look from a distance, the less likely you are to be recognized by someone who would want to kill you.”

Alex shuddered at the thought of changing his hair.
 
“I guess.”

“On the bright side, how do you feel about a Logos?”

Logos was the name of the most impressive car on the market.
 
In the recent past, a new car company, Pandora, had designed an impressive engine that utilized the best environmentally-friendly technology.
 
And, to everyone’s dismay, the car had the capabilities to match the horsepower and speed of any other sports car in production.
 
The prices were, of course, outrageous, but the Logos was a hit with the wealthy all over the country and in Europe.

Alex’s demeanor changed, “That sounds fun.”

“I thought you’d like that.
 
Tomorrow, we’ll get your hair taken care of.
 
After that, you can tool around in your new car—to get to know it.
 
Then, you’re off to school.”

“Marla, isn’t it going to seem strange that someone with that much money is going to a state school?”

She smiled.
 
“If you were going to inherit your wealth, wouldn’t you want to go where you had the least amount of responsibility?”

Alex nodded.
 
“I suppose.”

***

“I still don’t understand why you have to go,” Elizabeth pleaded.

Matt sighed.
 
“We’ve been over this.
 
I don’t trust mercenaries to be able to protect Alex.”

“We’ll still be watching, and we won’t be that far away.
 
We can intervene if something happens.”

“Like Metatron popping in here?
 
We had no way of knowing that was coming.”

Elizabeth grabbed Matt by the shoulders.
 
“You almost died.
 
You always almost die.
 
One of these days it isn’t going to be
almost
.”

Matt shrugged her off.
 
“Didn’t you hear Jeremiah?
 
If Alex dies, we’re fucked.”

“What if I die?
 
Does that mean anything to you?”

Matt closed his eyes.
 
“Don’t do this to me.”

“I guess that’s my answer,” she said and turned away.

Matt walked out of the room, determined not to be swayed.

History of warfare has shown that there is a significant positive correlation between the amount of resources available and victory.
 
In a battle between Heaven and Hell the only ammunition of importance, the only currency, the only quantitative measure of victory is the number of humans who fall or ascend.
 
The battle for Heaven is completely lost to the demons, and only the most tormented of spirits fight over Hell, so Earth is the only feasible battleground.
 
And we humans are the fodder.
 
Both sides organize troops and construct fortresses.
 
They decide upon or create generals for their armies.
 
They design plans of attack and implement them with cunning strategy.
 
But we are the losers, no matter on which side we may be.
 
Alexander Tanner was an excellent general not because his followers died heroically for the most noble of causes—which they did—but because so few of them had to.

--Abigail Martin,
Through the Eyes of a Martyr

Alex had been woken early in the morning so his hair could be dyed a dark brown and his clothes could change to something a little more suited for a child of the aristocracy.
 
He stood in front of a mirror admiring himself.
 
It wasn’t what he’d been so used to, but he did have to admit, it looked good.
 
He ran his hands down his blue, silk shirt.
 
He lifted the shirt slightly and turned to see how his butt looked in the black designer denim jeans.
 
Everything was a perfect fit.
 
And why not?
 
He did, after all, have tailors at his complete disposal.

He was escorted outside the mansion to a red Logos.
 
Besides the fact that it was the most expensive car Alex could think of, he didn’t know too much about the car.
 
He walked around it, examining the features (as if he knew anything about what he was looking at).
 
He ran his hand along the headlights and walked toward the driver’s side door.
 
Alex looked inside and saw all sorts of buttons across the dash of the car.

“You’ll need keys for that,” he heard Matt say from behind him.

Alex turned to see Matt toss the keys lazily to him.
 
Alex snatched them out of the air, but he couldn’t pull his attention from Matt, who now had blonde hair and was sporting very casual clothes—blue jeans and an orange, name-brand t-shirt.
 
It looked as though Matt had taken his outfit directly out of Alex’s closet.

“You look...different,” Alex mentioned.

“Yes.
 
And so do you,” Matt returned with a smile.

“In fact,” Alex continued, “except that you’re in better shape, you look a lot like me.”

“Well, like you used to look,” Matt corrected as he peered down at his attire.
 
“That’s the point.”

Alex kind of cocked his head and glared at Matt.
 
“Why...?”

“Isn’t it obvious?
 
If they think I’m you, then they might not think you’re you.”

“You’re bait.”

Matt smiled, unconcernedly.
 
“Look, don’t be dramatic about this.”

“Dramatic?” Alex echoed.
 
“Dramatic is setting someone up to get killed.”

Matt suddenly looked pretentious.
 
The pitch of his voice rose slightly, and he took on a painfully fake British accent.
 
“Me?
 
Me?
 
I have no intention of dying.
 
I’m too young and beautiful.”

“Goddamit, Matt.
 
I’m serious.
 
This has gone too far.
 
I don’t want you to go.”

Matt laughed.
 
“Alex, I don’t think you have much say in that.
 
Listen, I’m only trying to protect you.
 
I realize that you’re trying to be heroic, and that’s sweet, but have you ever fought a demon?”

Alex looked away and, in a softer voice, answered, “You know I haven’t.”

“Have you ever had to dodge bullets?”

“Matt, that’s not the point.”

“No, you’re right,” Matt said, sullenly.
 
“The point is that Jeremiah tells us what to do.
 
He has always told us what to do.
 
We may not like it, but we do it because we have no other choice.”

“He’s using you as a decoy,” Alex observed, getting very frustrated.
 
He shook his head.
 
“No, this isn’t right.”

Matt placed a hand on Alex’s shoulder.
 
“This is a necessary precaution.”

In that moment Alex felt a torrent of emotion flood him, and it wasn’t his.
 
He sensed fear.
 
He sensed bitterness.
 
He knew that Matt saw this as unfair, but Alex felt something else.
 
Matt saw this for what it was and accepted it—not because he thought it absolutely necessary and not because he couldn’t see what Jeremiah was doing, but because he loved Alex.

“You shouldn’t do this,” Alex insisted.

“But I’m going to anyway, and you know it.”
 
Matt looked away and motioned to the car, “Now, let’s take this baby for a spin.”

***

Lao Shi stepped off his flight and looked around at his new home—Las Vegas—the City of Sin, according to many Americans.
 
He wondered how many of them realized the irony and poetic accuracy that statement held at the same time.
 
People all around the airport were trying to give him free gifts or sell him something.
 
Some of those who were milling around the airport looked like he would have, if he were still in the temple, with their orange robes and shaved heads.
 

He was advised not to dress in the traditional monk’s outfit—it would not do, as he was trying to pass as an American.
 
His accent was slight, and his vocabulary was better than most life-long residents of the country.
 
His hair was little more than stubble, but it was growing in.

Lao Shi had not realized that another prophet, Abbie, had come almost exactly the way he had out of the airport.
 
If he had, he may have reflected on it for a moment.
 
But, because he didn’t, as he was exiting the airport, he saw a car coming in time to step back onto the sidewalk.
 
He remembered he was far from his quiet home in the mountains.
 

Thinking of the mountains caused him to wonder how his master was faring while he was away.
 
The prophet even remembered a traumatic nightmare he’d had three days ago, before he’d left his home.
 
He silently chided himself.
 
The temple had stood for nearly a hundred years, and it was in the hands of the most capable person alive.
 
It was foolish to even wonder what effect his absence would have on it.

He felt a touch on his shoulder.
 
He looked to see a black woman smiling down on him.

“Lao Shi?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“My name is Marla.
 
I’m a friend.”

He smiled warmly back at her.
 
He knew she was a friend when she touched him, but it was nice when people identified themselves as such.
 
He had always thought that too often friendship is assumed.
 
And, though he tried to be friendly with everyone, the assumption was sometimes misplaced.
 
However, something in her eyes told him that she was sad and afraid.
 
There was something that she didn’t want to tell him.

“What is wrong?”

She looked surprised by the question, but she quickly accepted it.
 
“My car is down the road a little.
 
Perhaps, we should discuss it there.”

He bowed his head slightly.
 
“Of course.”

***

The apartment that had been set up for Matt and Alex was enormous.
 
Alex was sure that few other students were living this well.
 
The high ceilings, the Italian leather furniture, and the state-of-the-art entertainment center were only a few examples of how far Jeremiah was willing to go to make sure the facade of Alex being the son of a real estate tycoon passed all the tests.
 

Matt slapped Alex on the back.
 
“Just like home, hmm?”

Alex laughed.
 
“Yeah, but I’ve been in so many homes lately that I’m not sure which one is really mine.”

“That’s true,” Matt agreed.
 
“You came from Kingstone.
 
Jeremiah took you to hide out in that shack.
 
You stayed in the mansion for a while, and now you’re here, within walking distance of a college campus.
 
Well, it’s all for the good of the world.”

“I keep telling myself that.”

Matt saw something in Alex’s eyes.
 
He wasn’t sure if it was doubt, fear, or regret, but he wouldn’t blame the boy for any one of them.
 
This was going to be quite an eventful semester, even if everything was as calm as it could be.

Matt wanted to change the subject.
 
He knew that he shouldn’t be getting so connected to Alex’s feelings.
 
It could definitely conflict with his position.
 
If Matt’s feelings started to overwhelm his senses, he would have to find someone to replace him as the boy’s guardian.
 
Matt didn’t want that to happen because he enjoyed Alex’s company, because he didn’t think anyone else could protect the prophet like he could, and because it would be yet another example of his own inadequacy.
 
The last was enough to solidify his resolve.

“So,” he said, “I’ve got your schedule.”

Alex looked hesitantly at Matt.

“Don’t worry,” Matt reassured.
 
“You’ll be fine.
 
They’re all introductory level classes, and you’ve been with those tutors so much in the past couple of weeks that you’re bound to do well.
 
Besides, Jeremiah has too much resting on you.”
 
He thought for a moment and laughed.
 
“I’m sure we could find someone to do your homework, if it came down to that.”

Alex took the piece of paper in Matt’s outstretched hand and read aloud, “Introduction to Composition, Introduction to Philosophy, Speech and Rhetoric, and Introduction to Psychology—with Dr. Abigail Martin.
 
Nice.”

“That’s twelve credit hours,” Matt added.
 
“It’s as small as we could give you and it still be considered a full load.
 
Any more, with your already busy schedule, would probably kill you.”

Alex sighed.
 
“Okay.
 
Well, what do we do now?”

“We should tell Abbie that we’re here,” Matt answered.

“I’ve heard so much about her; I’m really curious to see if she stands up to all the hype.”

Matt nodded.
 
“I’m sure she’s thinking the same thing about you.”

***

Elizabeth looked at her computer screen in vain.
 
She could not take her mind away from the parting between her and Matt.
 
Why couldn’t he understand that there were other things at stake besides Alex?
 
For the past two weeks, all he could talk about was how good Alex was and how mean she’d been for not giving him a chance.
 
She’d grown up in a small town, though.
 
She knew the thought process of small-minded people.
 
Alex may have claimed ignorance, and he could, in fact, be ignorant.
 
But she had a gut feeling that she couldn’t trust him, and this morning he took away the first man she really cared for.