The Deception Dance (32 page)

“
Andrew
?”
I examine his face while biting my lip and narrowing my eyes. “Kids
can be soulless?”

“Not usually, no. I think a child has to
do something truly horrendous, first.”

I shiver at the thought. Then I ask, “How
long have you been watching me?”

He slowly leans away, straightening up. When he
answers my question his voice is low, “Since before you were
born. But, you’re not the only child we followed and guarded.
Your father never let our sentinel ...”

“Mrs. Trandle.”

He gives an infinitesimal nod, “…close
enough to inspect your mark.”

My fingers clasp the back of my neck.

“But after Andras visited you as a child
we were almost positive that it was you.”

I press my back into the green truck. If I
continue on this line of questioning, I’m only going to get
pissed at Stephen, and right now he’s my only ally. I sigh.
“So, Andras has found another magician’s body?”

“No.” His hands grasp my shoulders.
He moves in front of me and stares intently. “
This
is our biggest problem. Our intel reports that Andras has been taking
over soulless bodies; he’s burning through them at alarming
rates. We captured a demon three nights ago that announced Andras
declares that he's tired of being limited by human bodies and plans
to ascend in his demonic form.”

I say each word slowly, “What does that
mean?”

“It means, that when Andras burns through
the body he now occupies, he’s going to open the gates and
unleash all of Hell on earth.”

“The gates to Hell are closed?”

“The demons now on earth are thirty
legions; the legions of one spirit of Solomon, there are seventy-two.
If Andras opens those gates the results will be, apocalyptic.”

“Apocalyptic, like
the
apocalypse?” I can’t breathe, why can’t I breathe?
I feel lightheaded. My legs give out and I start to slide down the
truck.

Stephen grasps my other shoulder.

I gasp in air.

He holds me up against the truck. “This
is what is at stake. You need to know before we go into the meeting.”

With wide eyes and a desperate, raspy voice I
gush out, “It doesn’t make sense, why would Andras do
this now? This isn’t even the first time I’ve died. Why
now? How could he plan to be with me after an apocalypse? Who’ll
be left?”

His hands support me by my shoulders. “He
did throw another fit when you first died in 1563...well, we don’t
need to get into that...” He sighs. “Raven,” he
tells me in a consoling tone, “Demons feed on humans, in a
manner of speaking. The Apocalypse is not the same thing as the
Armageddon; it won’t wipe out all of humanity, probably about
half, or a little more. Human population has now reached an amount
where the demons believe that the casualties caused by a demonic
take-over will not inhibit their continued existence.”

His brow creases and his scar puckers as he
gives me a sad look, “People have predicted the coming
apocalypse for centuries. Some believe that this was Satan’s
plan all along, I among them. Why else would Satan give Andras, not
only responsibility for his dealings on earth, but also the
metaphysical equivalent to the ‘keys’ to the gates of
Hell? Andras is perhaps his most passionate, humanlike and least
ambitious demon in his elite battalion. Andras will open the gates,
take what he was promised...” he nods at me, “…and
not attempt to seize Satan’s dominion.” Stephen sighs and
lets go of my shoulders.

I’m surprised I don’t fall forward.

“Raven, we’ve known this risk from
the start. My family made a catastrophic error in not telling you; I
know that." His hand covers his chest. "This information is
more than anyone should expect you to process in such short time.
But, I need you to get all your weakness out here, in this parking
lot, right now. When we walk in there…” he points to the
gentlemen’s club, “…you need to be strong, tough,
sharp and knowledgeable about what is at stake. Can you be these
things for me?”

I close my eyes. “Give me a minute?”

“One, but that’s all we have.”

I concentrate on my breathing.

After what feels like a couple of seconds
Stephen continues, “This is what you need to know: Andras is in
Copenhagen. This morning, Tobias ordered thirty ‘runners’
to bring the message of your safety to Andras in Copenhagen. We
predict that, at best, Andras will burn through his current body by
the end of tomorrow. Now, are you ready to have a voice in this?”

I straighten my back and inhale while shaking
out my arms and head. Lifting my head I meet Stephen’s gaze and
hold it steadily. “Yes. We need to get the message of me being
alive to Andras by the end of tomorrow or he will open the gates of
Hell; there’s no electricity, no phone lines, a legion of
demons and who-knows how many soul-bound in our way…”

“And, what is the first rule to
understanding demons?”

“To them, the ends always justify the
means.”

He gives a decisive nod. “Good. That’s
all we have time for.” He steps away but keeps gazing at me
fixedly.

He waits for me to step forward before he turns
to the men’s club. I feel hesitant walking into the building,
even though it’s a mirror image of the guest house; Tobias said
it was forbidden for women to enter. Only one woman has ever entered
before me, and she disgraced herself. And, knowing me, I'm probably
heading for disgrace number two.

The guards don't stop us, they don’t even
sneak a glance in our direction as Stephen presses his thumb to a
scanner and the door swings open of its own accord.

The entrance is identical to the guest house’s, a long hall
with gilded mirrors and portraits of distinguished bored people, the
only obvious difference is where there should be doorknobs on each
door, there are large scanners. We stop at one of these, the closed
entrance makes the hall completely dependent on the chandelier
overhead for light. Stephen presses his whole hand and wrist to the
scanner and a blue light traces around, when he removes his hand the
print is still there with every crease, freckle, and line traced in
black. I half expect a disembodied female voice to say, “Welcome,
Stephen,” like some b-movie sci-fi flick, but the door just
slides open;
slides
open, it's an elevator.

We step inside the spacious elevator car and turn around. There are
four buttons lined vertically on the wall; Stephen presses the fourth
and last button then spreads his hand to a pad that scans his full
hand and wrist. The elevator smoothly slides downward the moment the
door shuts.

I lean against the wall. “What’s in the house?”

“Surveillance and security stations for the grounds...”

“Is the basement where you train people to kill demons?”

Stephen inhales and lowers his voice to a whisper as we descend, “A
couple centuries past, Leijonskjöld Slot was an actual castle,
when it burned down the sub-ground levels were undamaged. Some of the
first basement level is used by the guest and main houses, but most
of the area is used for barracks, training and living space for our
soldiers. We have subterranean tunnels that lead out of the grounds,
which is why you didn’t see any of our soldiers before. Below
that, in our second-basement level, is our storage, mostly weapons,
we need special weaponry for some of what we do...”

“And the level we’re going to, level ‘TH’?”

He shakes his head and meets my gaze. “I can’t tell you
everything Raven. I have already told you much more than I am
supposed to...” The elevator stops and Stephen cuts off his
sentence. He motions me forward and I push off the wall and
straighten up.

Stephen grips my shoulder with one reassuring squeeze, and then turns
to stand next to me as the doors slide open. The hallway the elevator
opens onto reminds me of a spaceship, it’s completely made up
of panels of buffed out metal and soft white lighting. The hallway is
crossed on the left side by other hallways; unfortunately we take the
first turn.

At the end of the short metallic corridor, gathered in front of a
glass sliding door, are the three men I dread seeing the most, Sir
Tobias Snivels, hammer-boy Albert and Nicholas the jerk-face.

Facing demons is one thing… facing uncomfortable emotional
situations? No thanks. I realize that I still have time to retreat,
they haven’t seen me yet; I could just step out of view, run to
the elevator and let it carry me up.

Jeez
. Am I seriously that weak? While my instincts are
yelling, ‘Run! Hide!’ I know I have to grow the hell up
and face the fire that I started. I consciously slow down my
breathing and place one foot in front of the other.

It only takes an instant for Nicholas and his brothers to notice us.
I don’t look at them; I concentrate on the vertical strip of
lights dividing the metal ceiling.

The angry shouting that immediately breaks out and echoes down the
hall as the men charge to greet us is thankfully in Swedish, which
helps me keep my composure. I only avert my gaze from the ceiling
when Stephen calmly, almost jovially, says, “English please,
brothers.”

“What is the meaning of this, Stephen?” Albert rages,
“She’s not coming into our meeting!” He advances on
Stephen and I have to force myself to not step back and cower.

Stephen does not even flinch, “I called the meeting...”

Nicholas breaks in, his Swedish accent bleeding through in his anger
yet again, “What are you playing at, Stephen?”

Stephen snaps his attention to Nicholas. “Winning,” he
says without a moment’s hesitation. “I’m playing at
winning. As far as I see it, I am the best strategist and she is the
most valuable player. And this isn’t some skirmish; this is the
world-cup of calamities and I’m not going to overlook the most
important member of my team because of something so stupid as
self-importance, chivalry or personal conflict.” He looks at
each one in turn.

Nicholas yells, “This isn’t football. We’re up
against Hell not the Spanish football team!”

“So stop wasting my time. Get out of our way, my team...”
he nods to me, “and I, need to get to strategizing.” He
doesn’t wait for them to move, he shoves past clearing a path
for me to follow.

When we reach the sliding doors, Stephen calls back, “You can
come, too; if you mind your manners.” He grins as the doors
silently slide closed behind us. “Small victories...” he
whispers to me. “While they pretend to deliberate, I’ll
quickly catch you up to what you need to know.” He gestures to
a swivel chair, one of ten in the room.

The room is larger than I expect, but the rectangular table in the
middle is only made for the chairs around it. I discover the reason
for the room’s size as Stephen taps the table. Both a large
square at Stephen’s fingertips and the top-half of the wall
across from us illuminates. Stephen presses his hand to the screen on
the table and (an instant later) identical maps light up on the table
and wall.

“Outside of Copenhagen the damage is not as catastrophic. Most
soul trading is being brought about by demonically-infected-ravens
attacking people, where if people survive at all, they have to trade
their soul to remove the demonic infection. The world is calling it a
flu…” He shakes his head. “It is as I told you;
the demons are letting these infectious ravens do their work for
them; they just watch the attacks and if there are any survivors,
they offer them a deal. The farther from the city, the less the land
is infested; reports say that northern Sweden is relatively
raven-free.” Stephen fingers fly across his table screen as he
speaks.

“And inside Copenhagen?”

“Copenhagen…” Stephen closes his eyes, exhales,
and doesn’t finish his answer.

The main part of the city appears on the screen, it’s almost a
peninsula bordered by water on two sides; this is the part the map
zooms in on. The city has about forty-or-so green dots randomly
spaced, each with words labeling it.

“These dots are religious, spiritual, or other sites protected
from demonic beings twenty-six days ago. And these are the sites we
still have contact with.” He touches the screen again and all
but four of the green dots turn black.

Well, that’s not good.

Stephen walks to the large screen. “This church, Vor freslers
Kirke, is virtually cut off from the rest of Copenhagen, fortunate
for them, but virtually useless to us. This...” He points to a
dot near one point of a large star shaped area at the eastern-most
tip of the little stretch of land reaching out toward the Oresund
strait, “...is St. Alban’s Anglican church. It is a
religious stronghold protecting the entrance to Kastellet, which is
this large star area, where we have several battalions protecting
Copenhagen’s remaining survivors. Kastellet also has a church
in its center, which is why it’s such a protected space,”
he points to the green dot at the center of the star.

“And here...” Stephen points to a dot much farther down
from the strait but still on the water, “...is Holmens Kirke.”
The image zooms in on the church, providing several pictures of the
church in boxes along the top, “Holmens Kirke is the ‘basket
in which were keeping all our eggs,’ unfortunately. It is not
only the rendezvous point for all the ‘runners’ who have
the video of you, it’s our only open route to Andras’s
nest.”

“Nest?”