Morningstars, Part 13

In the kitchen back at home, Louis tore off his shirt, tossed it aside, and yanked open the refrigerator door. He grabbed a half-gallon carton of orange juice and started to messily gulp it down when he heard the familiar sound of Bruce’s wings behind him.

“I made it Bruce,” Louis said with a tired satisfied grin, gasping from drinking too much orange juice at once. “The kid’s got his soul back and I made it through intact.” He leaned on the refrigerator and felt the weight of exhaustion. Dizziness spun his head for a moment, so he blinked several times just to clear his sight. “I’m weak from healing. Damn, this takes so much out of me!” He grabbed a bottle of multivitamins from a cabinet and downed a few with more orange juice. “This used to work for a hangover; it probably couldn’t hurt to try it now.”

Uncertain as to whether he could make it upstairs, Louis called to his shadow and had it transport him to his bedroom, where he collapsed. He felt the rush of the orange juice hit his system, and he grew momentarily focused, able to see straight.

Bruce flew into the room and stood on the nightstand next to Louis, turning his head from side to side, looking him over.

“I’m OK; even the hole in my head is gone now,” Louis said with dry laughter, rubbing his head. “I think I may have found a way to set you free, but we’re going to have to work on it later. I can’t even get out of bed right now.” He tried to sit up, but felt lightheaded again and leaned back to fall into a restful slumber.

Louis awoke several hours later, still feeling drained, but stronger. He found a sheet of paper on the nightstand next to his cigarettes. Fumbling through the pack, he read Bruce’s message and lit one with a stick match.

FIGHT
B’LIAL STILL EXISTS?

Louis looked up from his bed and saw Bruce perched on the windowsill. He nodded his head and grinned sadly. He thought of how he’d essentially won John’s soul back, but lost the war against his father yet again.

“He was there waiting for me. The whole thing was a set-up, just like I thought it would be. I’m surprised he didn’t try to follow me back. He’s still probably too weak to do it, but he’s proven that he can strike at me from Hell. He’s like a demonic mob boss in prison.”

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and yawned loudly, rubbing an ache out of the back of his neck.

“Man, does this room smell horrible or what?” he said shaking his head. “I’m getting woozy just being in here.”

His bed was a reeking mess, stained with his own remains, and so was he. Standing a little unsteadily, he pulled the grimy covers off the bed and threw them into a pile on the floor. Then, he walked into the bathroom for what he’d begun to think of as his traditional “after Hell” shower.

In a few minutes he was toweled off and putting fresh sheets on his bed. The room smelled much better after he’d removed the dirty laundry and put them in the washer. He still felt odd doing domestic choirs for only himself, but at least he was doing them, and not letting it get him down.

When he was dressed and had a strong cup of chocolate raspberry coffee in his hands, he explained to Bruce what his plan was to free him

“I think I can use my shadow to pull your soul out of that body, and then just set it free. It worked for John’s son only instead of just setting his soul free I put it back into his body. In theory, there’s no reason why it shouldn’t work for you the same way.”

Bruce nodded vigorously, and hopped on the typewriter that Louis had brought back down to the kitchen. He typed:

TRY IT NOW
GET ME OUT OF THIS

“Okay, okay,” Louis said, smiling in anticipation. He stood in front of Bruce and called to his shadow, feeling hope rise in his heart. “I need you to take the soul out of the raven standing on the table and hold it inside us like you did with John’s, in Hell.”

With liquid motion, the shadow pulled free of his body scooped the soul out of the bird. The glow from Bruce’s soul illuminated the shadow’s hands momentarily, and all Louis could see was their vague outline. The raven’s body fell on the table, eyes still open, resting on its side. Louis could see that the bird was still breathing, but was empty of its consciousness, much in the same manner that John and himself were earlier that day.

The shadow returned to Louis’ body, fading into him as if he were inhaling a black cloud.

“Okay, now let the soul go,” he said to his shadow. “Set it free to move on.”

Louis’ eyes widened with fear as he watched the hands of his shadow slowly ooze out of his chest and open. The golden butterfly tried to fly away, and almost succeeded. There was a split second of hesitation and then it looked as if the butterfly was being drawn back, pulled toward the raven’s body like a needle to a magnet. It vanished within the bird, and Bruce stood up, shaking his head. He hopped on the typewriter and typed:

STUCK UNTIL
B’LIAL IS DESTROYED
HE DID THIS
FINISH HIM

“Damn!” Louis pounded a fist on the table and threw his coffee at the wall. “It should have worked! You were out and ready to go!”

Bruce typed:

I AM OK FINE
WE DESTROY B’LIAL NOW
TOGETHER
THEN BOTH FREE

“That settles it, we’ve got to come up with a way to fight him and win! We’ve got to end this before things get worse!” Louis proclaimed.

After cleaning up the mess he’d made with the orange juice, he spent the rest of the afternoon searching through the texts that he had accumulated in the library. Bruce came just as he found somewhat of a solution.

“I’ve found so much on casting demons out of flesh, banishing them from earth, all sorts of information like that, but nothing on destroying them. Again I’m coming up empty. It’s like a secret no one wants to part with. The only thing that I could come up with that could even remotely be classified as an answer was a little passage in a text called ‘Hell and the Philosophy of Evil.’” Louis continued, showing Bruce the ancient book. “It states that a demon, at heart, is a form of energy, and if its physical body, its ‘container’, as it’s referred to, were destroyed, said demon would become a nonentity. Its energy would be drawn to the lowest pits of Hell where it would be scattered until its Master would see fit to reconstitute it.”

Louis shook his head in disappointment. “It sounds plausible, but how could I destroy him? Maybe if we had a fair fight, but there’s a snowball’s chance in Hell of that happening.” Louis laughed dryly. “By rights, the demon sweat should have destroyed him, but he was too powerful. Each other time I’ve tried to fight him, I didn’t have the power to completely destroy him because he had too many other demons on his side to help him. I ended up getting my ass handed to me.”

Bruce typed:

MORE SWEAT
BUCKETS
MEET HIM ALONE

Louis shook his head again. “He’s too smart for that. Besides, I don’t think there’s a way to get more demon sweat. The imps are going to stay away from me after what happened before, and I don’t know if I bring such a strong fear to other demons to be able to get any from them.” He pressed his mind for an answer, but couldn’t come up with any sort of solution or strategy.

“It’s late. I’ve got to get away from all this for a while, maybe it’ll be easier when I start fresh in the morning.” Louis found a bit of stress relief by going down to the basement for a workout that lasted for a couple of hours. He was amazed at how fully his recovery had been after being pulped so badly the day before. It was reassuring to know that no matter what B’lial threw at him, he could get over it in time.

He thought about entering the basement room where he’d shot himself in the head, but decided against it, because he imagined there would be a horrible mess to clean up and he was in no mood to deal with it. It would be worse later, but he wouldn’t care by then.

A call came from Tindili just as Louis had settled down to a late dinner of take-out pizza with Bruce. Louis had sent out for it knowing how much Bruce liked pizza in spite of the consequences. It would be worth having to pick the cheese out of his feathers later on if he knew Bruce was in better spirits after being discouraged earlier. Louis felt guilty for failing him.

“I don’t even know how to say thanks for what you’ve done for my son, my family.” Tindili said. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“Thanks is fine, John. We’re like family for Christ sakes, you would’ve done the same for me,” Louis said. “How is he?”

“Fine. I can’t believe he’s doing so well so quickly. He’s got a clean bill of health so far. They’re going to release him tomorrow if he stays that way. Cindy’s so happy her face’ll crack open if she smiles anymore. I haven’t seen her like this in years.”

“I’m glad. What does he remember about what happened?” Louis asked curiously.

“He said he thought he was having a nightmare, described it as a ‘horror movie, only worse.’ He remembered seeing you in it, but he couldn’t remember what you were doing,” Tindili said. “He saw the mess on your clothes when he woke up and asked about it, but I told him he must have been seeing things. Cindy didn’t even realize you looked like hell, or should I say from Hell. It’s amazing what stress does to a person.”

“Great, at least John won’t be screwed up for the rest of his life because of what happened. I still feel responsible for it all. If I’d have stayed away-’’ Louis started.

“Like I said before, he would have probably taken it anyway,” Tindili insisted, “only you wouldn’t have been around to save him.”

“Okay, okay, I quit,” Louis said, falsely giving in. He still stubbornly clung to the idea that he was responsible for the situation, but refused to argue with Tindili. “I’m feeling much better, so I’ll drop in to see him tomorrow. What’d you find out about the drug itself?”

“It hasn’t been on the streets for a few days now. Whatever you did worked like a charm,” Tindili said. “It’s gone.”

“Great,” Louis sighed. “Threats are a good thing.”

“What happened there?” Tindili asked timidly. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“It’s okay. When I got there, my father let me get to your son, and than he had me surrounded,” Louis explained. “I fought off his demons until I healed and was pulled back to my body. I threatened to go public with who I was if he didn’t stop dealing while we were fighting. I think that was his inspiration to get the drug off the streets.”

“Well, whatever works, right?” Tindili said.

“Yeah. What about John? Were you able to talk to him about how he got the stuff without it sounding too much like the third degree or a lecture?” Louis asked.

“Yeah. He told me that he got it from a friend of his, one of the other guys that was in a coma,” Tindili informed him. “They’ve all coincidently recovered, by the way. Anyway, the kid’s name was Kevin Houser. I went back to talk to him a few hours ago. He was only down the hall from John. He told me he got the stuff from what he described as ‘a huge looking guy in a hat and overcoat.’ He doesn’t remember seeing his face, but he thought it was covered with something anyway. A little bit of a cliché, huh? ‘A dark faceless man gave it to me’.”

“You think he’s just covering his own ass by not giving a description?” Louis asked.

“It’s possible, but I doubt it. He’s shit scared, thought he was going to die,” Tindili said.

“Maybe I should have a talk with him,” Louis offered.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll get everything in writing and copied so you can read it over later. Right now there’s something I need you to work on first, since I’m going to be busy here for a couple of days,” Tindili said.

“What’s up?” Louis asked.

“We’ve got another one,” Tindili said dully. “Same as the other two.”

“Another killing behind the church?” Louis asked.

“Yeah, pinned up just like the other two,” Tindili replied. “The shelter is still up and running because there’s nowhere else for the residents to go. All the neighboring shelters are full beyond capacity. They already have a replacement for the priest, so at least they’re a little organized, but I can’t say the place is safe.”

“You’ve got to hand it to the Catholic church for that; they’re always organized, even if what they’re doing defies logic or common sense,” Louis said sarcastically.

“We’ve got patrols going by the place, but you know how it is,” Tindili replied. “There’s never enough.”

“Yeah,” Louis echoed his sentiment. “With everything that’s gone on I haven’t been able to find anything out on my end yet. The priest’s soul was already gone by the time I got there, so I couldn’t even question him. The only lead I’ve got is from the first victim, and he didn’t really give me anything that made sense to go on.”

“I hope you can get something soon, because the lab boys couldn’t find anything, and you know I came up dry too,” Tindili said direly. “There’s going to be more killings if we don’t find something out soon. I don’t know how long we can keep the press away either.”

“All right, I’ll get right on it,” Louis said. “I’ll keep in touch with information as I get it. Please, don’t contact me anymore unless I ask you to. It’s too risky right now. I don’t know what B’lial has planned, but I’m sure he’s pissed about what happened, so I wouldn’t put anything past him these days.”

Reluctantly, Tindili agreed and the conversation ended.

Louis thought about the description John’s friend Kevin gave to Tindili. It sounded as if it could be B’lial, but why would he cover up in clothes and not just morph into human form? Was he that weak, or had he sent someone else to do his bidding, someone that couldn’t change shape? Either way it made sense.

If it were another demon, it would tie in with the victims at the church, and explain why the first one thought someone like himself murdered him. There had to be a demon out there somewhere committing the murders, he was certain of it because of the wounds and the evident strength used, but he couldn’t understand why there wasn’t anything to pick up on, not even a residual scent. He went over the copy of the files that Tindili had already given him pertaining to the murders with a fine-toothed comb. There was nothing in them that even vaguely referred to who or what could have caused the murders. No leads, or even a vague motive, only questions in statement form.

There were no useable fingerprints on the scene, and the lab reported that chemical analysis of the remains showed nothing out of the ordinary, not even a trace of drug use by the victims other than some alcohol in the priest’s blood. Louis had no doubt that it was from wine used during church services.

The claw marks on the bodies denoted that the wounds were inflicted by a large animal; at least seven feet in height and estimated at weighing over three hundred pounds. The files suggested that a bear could possibly have made such wounds, but also stated that there was no known animal intelligent enough to pin up its victims or even commit said murders so cleanly, without leaving any trace of evidence behind. There would have been, at the very least, prints of some type, or possibly animal waste, evident at the site. Besides that, there was the question of how anyone would be able to secure the victims prone to the brick wall in that manner.

He and Bruce checked the church alley again. They staked it out at night, but even after the pair tailed a few of the shelter residents for a few days, in hopes of catching a glimpse of the killer, they couldn’t come up with anything. Louis decided that it would be to their advantage if they split up. He sent Bruce out to fly around the city and keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. The raven could pick up the scent of a demon as easily as Louis, and from the air he could cover quite a bit of ground in a short time, and get in and out of small areas more quickly than he ever could.

Louis did his part by infiltrating the shelter as a homeless man. He called Tindili and informed him that he intended to stay at the shelter for at least a few days to find out anything he could about the murders that wasn’t already in the reports. Tindili didn’t have and objections to it, and wished him luck, hoping to hear from him soon.

It didn’t take Louis much to look the part. He just didn’t shave for a day, and dressed in clothes that he’d had since before he’d married Diane. Back then, his wardrobe consisted of shredded up jeans and t-shirts. He was surprised that he hadn’t put on too much weight and could still fit into it all, but he guessed that it had to do with his mixed blood. He’d be perpetually in his prime.

The new priest in charge of the shelter was named Father Frederick Volip. He was a soft-spoken Italian from the old school. He got things done more with his piercing eyes than anything else. Louis found that the residents respected him for his directness and compassion.

Father Volip took Louis, going by the name Louis Simon, on a tour of the shelter as an orientation when he first arrived. The shelter consisted of two very large rooms in the basement of the church. The larger of the two was the dorm room where the men slept. It was lined with old- fashioned steel framed bunks and sparsely furnished with donations of furniture so the residents could store their clothing and personal other belongings. There was a rec room with a small television. Folding chairs lined the walls, and it was where meetings were held. Meals were served in a narrow area adjoined to it that looked like it might have been a hallway at one time.

The meals themselves were prepared in a soup kitchen funded by the church in a storefront a block away and brought in three times a day. Laundry facilities were provided upstairs where there was also a large bathroom with a shower room that could accommodate four people at a time. Louis was surprised at how well the shelter was laid out.

Father Volip explained to Louis that he would have to follow the house rules if he intended to stay there for any length of time. The rules were fairly loose. Volip allowed smoking in the building as long as ashtrays were used and no one else residing there objected. Since he was a smoker himself, he said it allowed him to feel like less of a hypocrite.

“Everyone has their private sins, and I’m not exempt from that,” he said candidly. “I just pass on the word of God, teach, and try to follow the word as best as I can myself. I never claim to be anything but an imperfect human being like anyone else.”

Louis respected Volip a great deal after hearing him say that. He’d never know anyone that was religious say something so humble and honest. He thought that Volip was a man out of his time, and belonged somewhere with Bing Crosby in “Boys Town”.

Along with making sure their personal area was kept neat, each resident had to be completely drug and alcohol free. They were tested randomly each week and had to attend daily meetings if they were past substance abusers. Most of them were. Each resident also had to be actively seeking employment, if not currently employed in some capacity. They had to attend mass on Sundays unless other arrangements had been made because of their employment. Those that were unemployed had chores to do around the church and shelter to earn their keep. The operation was completely self-contained and self-sufficient.

Louis saw the shelter as a very stable and structured environment. Even after the murders had taken place it was running smoothly. The dozen or so people that resided there, in spite of being frightened, continued on with their daily lives. He noted that none of them traveled alone anymore under any circumstances, especially at night.

He entered the shelter on the premise that he was an alcoholic, but sober, with a powerful desire to stay that way. Louis began to attend the AA meetings as soon as he arrived and made himself familiar with most of the people. They were all very friendly, and quick to make him feel as if he were a part of a loose-knit family. After that first day, he felt the pangs of guilt for lying to them all about who he was.

There was an unsaid buddy system since the murders had taken place. Bob, an ex-marine, who had lost everything to alcohol years ago, but had been sober for seven months, took an immediate liking to Louis. He became his unofficial “buddy” and helped him get a job at a local deli, where he worked, cleaning up and stocking shelves. Bob was about the same size as Louis, so he volunteered to lend him a couple of his work shirts with the deli’s logo until he earned enough to purchase a few for himself. Louis felt even more guilt after that, he wasn’t used to people being so nice. He kept up the charade, because he had to, and hoped it would be worth it in the long run, and he could come clean afterwards. He and Bob became friends rather quickly, and traveled together for safety to and from work the second day he was there.

“There’s nothing out there that can take the two of us on. We’re too strong; a couple of real bad-asses,” Bob said, slapping Louis on the shoulder while they walked back to the shelter after Louis’ first day at work. “We’re not going to end up like Jack or Father Jim.”

“What happened to them?” Louis asked, fishing for anything he could get without giving himself away. “I read about the murders in the newspaper, but I wasn’t exactly in the state of mind to be able to understand it all.”

“One of those days huh? I’ve had more than my share of them,” Bob smiled. “I’m grateful that I’ve turned that page and moved on from that. Now let me see, Jack had been living with us in the shelter for almost a month. He was still pretty shy though, I guess, because he didn’t talk too much. I think he was a vet too, ‘Nam. He told everyone that he got a job on a loading dock a few blocks away and we didn’t see him much after that.”

“Was he really working?” Louis asked.

“Yeah. I didn’t know him that well, but when a guy named Obie moved into the shelter, he got him a job there too. That’s the way it works, you know. We all help each other.” Bob added in a rush. “Jack was kind of mousy, he and Obie got pretty tight. Obie was a huge fella, so we started calling him Goliath. It was funny seeing the two of them leave for work together; like seeing Jack from “Jack and the Beanstalk” working with the giant that stole the golden goose. Obie was really powerful. He helped us move all the furniture in the rec room so we could tile the floor. Someone donated the stuff so all we had to do was put it down. He didn’t even seem tired when he was done. I don’t think I ever saw him get tired.”

“So he and Goliath became friends. What’d the big guy look like?” Louis was careful and tried to sound timid yet paranoid with his questions, so Bob would just think he was nervous, curious and sober for the first time in a long while.

“We could hardly see him. He kept himself covered up all the time, even his face. He wore a suede hat, floppy rim, like something out of the sixties. His face was always in its shadow, but even if it wasn’t, he always had this, I guess it was like a gauze thing over his face, like a sock. Said he was burned really bad in a fire and didn’t want people to run when they saw him. The scars must have been terrible. What a shame,” Bob stared off wistfully. “God, he was powerful. Moved the piano upstairs in the church by himself once. I bet he could have stopped the killer if it came after him, even if he was alone.”

“I don’t think I’ve met him yet,” Louis said, trying to hide his excitement. He’d found the connection to the drug Tindili’s son had taken. But was “Obie” also a murderer?

“You probably won’t either. He left a couple of days before Jack got cut up. I don’t think he’ll be back. He said he had a relative to get in touch with, and that he’d probably be living with him soon,” Bob continued. “I tried to talk to him once, a while back, when he first came in. I was a pilot in Korea, so since he was younger, I asked him if he was in ‘Nam. I figured that with the burns and all he could have been a vet, but he didn’t want to talk about it at all. He seemed angry when I brought it up.”

“Maybe it still upset him,” Louis suggested, mentally noting that “Obie” had left before the killings began. He could be the one.

“Yeah. Hell, it would bother me. I don’t know if I’d be able to live with it,” Bob affirmed. “Remind me to tell you about the old flight simulators they had when I was in the service. Things are so different now. Modern stuff still throws me sometimes.”

They reached the church, talking casually about mundane things and entered the basement through the back of the building. A chill crept up Louis’ spine when they passed the point where the priest and the victim he now knew as “Jack” were murdered. It was a constant reminder of how important it was to find the murderer. So was his friendship with Bob.

The two attended a meeting that night, and Louis confided in the group about the night he mixed alcohol and some of Diane’s painkillers after meeting his father. He didn’t give a detailed account, but it was enough to finally share something with the group and not have to lie. He felt accepted by them, which he hadn’t felt around anyone in a long time.

Louis slipped outside after the meeting, avoiding the prayers they were going to have upstairs in order to rendezvous with Bruce and possibly swap information. Louis left a window open at the brownstone, so Bruce was able to get in and out with no trouble, and could type up anything he saw that was out of the ordinary and pass it on to him. The first day there was nothing, but that night, Bruce found something out of the ordinary. He swooped down behind the church with a crumpled up sheet of paper stuck in his beak and dropped it for Louis to read.

He quickly related what he’d learned about “Obie” with Bruce, then read his message.

DOG
CAT
CUT UP
SEWN TOGETHER
DEMON SMELL

“Where?” Louis whispered urgently, heart suddenly racing.

Bruce landed on his shoulder. He craned his neck and squawked, than he flew off Louis and turned around to hover, expectantly.

“Okay, I’ll follow, but go slow, don’t lose me.” Louis said, jogging after Bruce.

Bruce led him down the street five blocks, then made a right turn, and traveled another three. He flew into a poorly lit up ally behind a warehouse. There were two large loading bays facing them. There was blood covering each of the bay doors, and an animal was hanging from each one, held up by a thin rope tired around its throat.

Louis approached the doors and looked at the animals. He fought back not to retch when he realized what he was really looking at. Each one was half dog and half cat. Obviously a dog and cat had been sliced in half and messily sewn together with half of its counterpart. The scent of demon was thick in the air. It was a familiar scent. The scent was his own, but mixed with another he didn’t recognize.

“Oh my god,” Louis backed away and murmured. “It can’t be.”

He didn’t know what to do first. Call Tindili, or run back to the church. He decided that he would return to the church while he’d already begun running there. The dog and the cat meant something to him, and it was plain that even though his scent was there, it wasn’t from him. What he was contemplating made him even sicker to his stomach than seeing the animals sewn together in the manner that they were.

“Bruce, get to Tindili and have him follow you to the church!” he shouted. “Hurry!”

Twice Louis remembered hearing B’lial make some sort of reference to him not being alone. Now he knew why, and felt like a fool for not thinking about it before.

The creature that had killed the animals had also been responsible for murdering the homeless people. He knew that now. Demon or man, whichever one it lived as in the world, it was Louis’ brother. He had a vague notion before, but never thought to follow up on it, because it seemed too impossible, too outrageous. He should have known better.

He ran as hard as he could to reach the church. He’d left them all alone, and had unwittingly been set up to do so. As he grew near to the church, he could smell flesh and blood as if it were a fragrance in the air. There was also the unmistakable scent of demon. He approached the church from the front, and saw from a distance that there was blood smeared on the doors thick enough to resemble dabs of red paint. He took the stairs leading to them in leaps and bounds, bursting through the thick ornate wooden doors as if they weren’t even there.

His eyes filled with horror when he looked around at the inside of the church. He saw bits of flesh, limbs, and internal organs strewn around the room. Intestines were hanging from the beams of the ceiling like garland. All the flesh looked as if it had been tossed like confetti at a sporting event. There were different shades of blood everywhere, smeared across stained glass, used to write curses on the walls. The entire scene, impossibly detailed in such a short time, resembled an abstract painting of death. Louis nearly gagged when he saw some of the limbs still eerily twitch with life.

“You missed the party!” there was a demon that resembled B’lial standing in the back of the room. He was wearing Father Volip’s blood stained collar around his neck and stood at the head of the altar like a reptilian priest. Volip’s head had been placed on the altar itself, situated so that it faced the congregation. The demon still held the man’s body. “I was just about to change into something a little less comfortable. You should have taken your time in returning here.” He tossed the body aside and his mouth formed an evil looking grin. “I was trying to impress you!” the demon said, his mocking laughter echoing throughout the chamber. “Did it work?”

“You’re my brother?” Louis asked, his voice barely audible. His mind struggled to cope with the shock, the vision of hell that was all around him. He already knew the answer to his question, but he had to ask it, just to hear the answer from someone else.

“You found the animals, huh? I thought once you saw them you’d finally understand.” The demon’s wings audibly tensed up. “Yeah, I am the brother you’ve never known. I call myself Obscure, because that is what I am, what I have been. I am the unheard of creation of our Father, who art in Hell.”

“Why did you kill these people?” Louis asked incredulously. “They did nothing to harm you.” He felt a fiery rage begin to smolder in his heart. “You could have come after me any time you wanted to! I would have fought you. You didn’t have to kill these people!” The rage was building more powerfully within Louis, and there was nothing he could do to stop it, he was too focused on not allowing his body to transform again.

“Why does a dog lick his balls? Because he can!” Obscure said, leaping into the air. He soared across the room and landed a few feet away from Louis.

“I was told that my mother gave birth to one son,” Louis said angrily. “Only one son.”

“Nope. A liar lied to you, but you should have guessed that. You came out first, but then, when I came out, now that’s what drove our mother insane. Seeing me, looking much the same as I do now, coming out of her was enough to drive her over the edge. She loathed the idea of me growing inside of her just because of the way I looked. I was forsaken at birth, and discarded as if I was merely the deformed twin or a pile of foul smelling afterbirth.”

“The doctors, they took me from our mother, and studied me, thinking I was malformed and doomed. I grew a little, just after a few days, and showed them that I could tear them apart even as an infant. Then I was lost and alone. I had nothing until B’lial came to my rescue.”

Louis was stunned and the anger had fled somewhere deep inside him. He couldn’t reach it even though he needed it to keep his head clear and remain focused.

“It’s your fault that all these people had to die!” Obscure continued. “They accepted you right off, and I, I was forced to drape a shroud over my entire body. I had to hide and tell them I was scarred. I wasn’t scarred; they were, for being human!”

It flashed in Louis’ mind like a bright light; Obie was Obscure. Obscure the homeless man, the drug dealer, and finally, murderer.

“You killed Jack after you confided in him about who you are, didn’t you!” Louis asked.

“Duh! I killed the priest for the same reason. He screamed when I showed him what my face really looked like. It was horrible. He started shouting prayers because he thought I was Satan!” Obscure grinned angrily. “He was a filthy maggot of a hypocrite for judging me by how I looked, so I gutted him from head to hips and had a little snack!”

“Why are you here going through all this? Couldn’t B’lial just take you to Hell where you belong?” Louis asked.

“I am not welcome in Hell. There are reasons-” The demon paused, indecisive. Louis had never seen such an expression on a demon’s face; it was disquieting to him. Obscure continued. “I have been hiding myself behind masks of gauze and cotton, trying to pass myself off as something human for years, and I cannot even survive in a place like this! A place for those cast off. For those who are obscure, downtrodden like myself. I was still a freak among freaks, and not acceptable. I named myself years ago, because even my father was sickened by my existence and would not name me as a child. Our loving mother couldn’t find it in herself to name me either.”

“Why would B’lial forsake you? You look just as he does.” Louis said. “None of this makes any sense.”

“I was supposed to be like you! And this is what I am instead.” Obscure held up his hands and clenched them into his fists until his own talons cut him and murky colored blood dripped down his forearms. “There are things about me that are too different. We, you and I, are one in the same, but yet the opposite. That is why I suffer.”

Louis had begun to feel utter revulsion, total loathing of Obscure, but those feelings quickly changed to pity and a strange sadness he wasn’t comfortable feeling.

“He’s after me you know,” Louis said dryly, suddenly seething again. “I won’t do his bidding like a good little devil slave, so he wants me to suffer until I go crawling to him, begging. He’s killed because of that. He crucified me and has insured that I can’t ever have a normal life because all those around me are threatened. I was only free to be here because I fought him hard enough to send him back to Hell to heal from our battle. Yeah, I might look human, and I had some good years without knowing who B’lial was, but that only makes it worse. I know what it’s like to have a normal life and than watch it be stolen from me. It’s all been downhill since, B’lial’s made sure of that. What you did here tonight, it’s something he would have done to hurt me. Something disgusting and sick, to drive me insane with hatred.”

There was a gleam of understanding in Obscure’s eyes. His expressions were very human, to Louis’ surprise, unlike B’lial’s. There was something odd about him, but Louis couldn’t place what it was; something about his eyes.

“He wishes to destroy us both for one reason or another.” Obscure’s voice was a vile hiss.

“Why did you deal the drugs he gave you?” Louis stammered.

“He vowed that if I did his bidding, he would bring me home so that I could rest in the pits and find life in the suffering of those damned.” Obscure’s words were soft, and he lowered his head as if he were ashamed to say them.

“I guess a liar lied to you,” Louis said ironically.

“Damn him!” Obscure turned away and growled, enraged, clenching his fists again as if he were about to swing them at something. “I can no longer abide by this charade!”

Obscure crouched low, then leaped into the air, membranous wings uncannily allowing him to rise high above Louis’ head. Arms outstretched, he circled the room, looking around the church with wide angry eyes.

“Let it be as it was!” the demon shouted. “Show the truth of my shame!”

Louis suddenly felt the room spin around him. The floor beneath his feet seemed to shake slightly as the room blurred into a mix of indiscernible shapes. He tried to shout out something, anything, to Obscure but the breath was stolen from his lips and his mouth couldn’t seem to form any words. His heart pounded madly as he watched the interior of the church liquefy and return to a state of normalcy, pews, pictures, the altar. Everything was as it was before he left to find the cat-dog. His head still spun, but he saw everything clearly, perplexed by it all.

Obscure swooped down and landed in front of Louis. His graven expression softened.

“I have a great power over mortals. I can deceive like none other in Hell, but my greatest weakness is myself. I can make water into wine with none the wiser, but I cannot change the shape of my own soul to twist it into what it hungers to be, what it should be,” the demon said.

“This was all bullshit? All fake?” Louis asked incredulously.

Obscure nodded slowly. “The people here were my friends, even though I can never see them again. They are alive and well, but in the basement where they would normally be at this time of night. I am masking our presence from them as easily as I tricked you into believing they were all dead.”

“No one’s dead?” Louis asked, confused. There was no blood scent in the air. He looked around and saw that it was true no one lay dead. The floor was as clean as could be, and the rafters were bare of torn flesh. Obscure’s deception was incredible, totally overwhelming.

“No one died tonight but the poor cat and dog I had to rend and sew into twisted versions of ourselves to lead you back here. B’lial had planned to use my power of total and utter deception to bring about a battle between the two of us. A battle that he would ultimately win.” The demon’s eyes narrowed. “It was he who killed the others, even those on the waterfront, because they were my friends, in spite of what I truly am. He murdered them to win me. I am a demon with the desires of a demon, but I fight the manhood inside me. I am a torn soul, lost with compassion that fills me with agony. I don’t even have the strength to follow through with B’lial’s plan.”

“What are you talking about?” Louis said.

“I am human. More human, physically than you are,” Obscure said. He held up his hands, and the cuts from his own talons were still there, crusted over with dried blood. “We are two halves of the whole. When we were born, it should have been as one, not two separate beings.”

Louis was aghast with the realization of what Obscure had been beating around the bush about since he’d arrived. He realized that the odd feature about Obscure’s eyes was the fact the there were wrinkles, crow’s feet, around them. He was aging.

“You’ve got the parts I’m missing.” Louis said, brow rising with the revelation.

“As you have what I need to be what I truly am,” the demon said approaching him. “I am demon, pure and simple, but I have a soul, or at least part of one. It’s a vile thing that allows me to age and know no peace.”

“Oh my god, you’re right!” Louis said amazed at what he’d overlooked. “Demons don’t have souls.”

“You have my darkness inside you. You have my private Hell,” Obscure said. “I want it. Without it I’ll age more, suffer, and die without ever going to my rightful home, the place I crave. The heavens would be agony to me. And that is surely where I would end up, because with a soul, as you know, there also comes a heart. Feelings, pleasant feelings, have been my bane since birth, and I have no power to stop them.”

“You’re fighting being human, and I’m fighting being a demon,” Louis said. “This is insane. What did B’lial hope to gain by creating us? Neither one of us is what we’re supposed to be. We both struggle to hold onto what we can never truly be.”

“His plan and promise to me was to have us merge in Hell, to be one, where we would become the most powerful in the pits, to rival even the Master himself. We were to be a soul inside a demon, more powerful than soulless Satan, whom we would destroy for B’lial. He would then have free reign in Hell and on earth, with us as his right arm.”

“We’re like two halves of the Anti-Christ,” Louis mumbled. “We can’t allow it to happen! We’ve got to stop him!” he said urgently.

“I’ve taken the first step by telling you what his plans are, but I can do nothing to stop him by myself. I may be a demon, but I cannot travel to Hell unaided, nor could I ever hope to win in a struggle with B’lial.”

“What if I gave you some of my blood?” Louis asked. “It worked on some people before, when B’lial was torturing me.”

“I would have taken some of your blood long ago, in hopes that it would transform me into the demon I naturally crave to be, but I know that it won’t work. B’lial himself had shown me that, using a drop of your blood that he acquired from you as an infant. That was when I was but an angry child, many years ago,” Obscure said. “Your blood cannot take from me what I have, nor can it give me what I need.”

“Damn,” Louis said softly. “Can’t we fight him together? I can get us to Hell.”

“Then that’s where we meet him, where we fight him,” Obscure proclaimed. “If we fail, at least it will be in Hell, where I belong.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Louis mumbled. “We have to get outside. I sent Bruce to get Tindili, a friend, and I should meet him when he gets here so he doesn’t come in with his guns blazing. It was kind of a false alarm now, but at least I can let him know who the murderer was. I’m sure he’ll be really surprised,” he said sarcastically. “When he gets here stay out of sight. Let me talk to him, and then we can go.”

Outside Obscure clung to the shadows, and Louis stood on the curb. Bruce came into view, and landed on his shoulder, squawking as Tindili pulled up.

“What the hell is going on?” Tindili said, getting out of his car. His clothes were rumpled and he looked as if he’d just woken up and dressed over his pajamas.

“I’ve got to talk to you,” Louis said, meeting Tindili halfway in the street. “C’mon, let’s go inside for a minute.”

“Why’d you send Bruce for me? He kept pounding on my bedroom window, scared the hell out of Cindy and me,”

“I found out the killer we’re looking for is B’lial,” Louis said with a sigh. “He murdered those people as part of another wild scheme to get to me. It’s a long story, but that’s what it really comes down to.”

“Oh Christ, how am I going to explain that one?” Tindili said, shaking his head.

“I don’t know,” Louis said. “Maybe you can come up with something in time. At least it’s over now.”

“What do you mean, over? He could come back anytime and do it again,” Tindili said, annoyed. “There’s nothing we can do to stop him.”

“Listen, I think I have a way to stop him,” Louis said. “After you leave I’m going after him, and this time I’ve got some help. I think it’ll make a big difference, we might be able to destroy him this time.”

“Are you serious?” Tindili asked.

“Yeah, but there’s always a chance that I won’t survive. Just in case, check my brownstone tomorrow. I’ll leave the door open for you,” Louis said. “If something happens to me, I’ll try to leave you a sign somehow.”

“Okay, but I don’t need to tell you that I don’t like doing things this way.” Tindili shook his head. “It sounds too dangerous.”

“Everything’s been dangerous since Diane died. I think I’m getting used to it,” Louis said, slapping Tindili on the shoulder. “I’ll be okay, trust me. One way or another, everything is going to be fine.”

“All right,” Tindili shrugged. “Now let me get back home before Cindy divorces me. Bruce kind of dropped in during an awkward moment.”

“You mean you guys were-” Louis laughed as he watched Tindili’s face flush. “I didn’t know you guys still did that.”

“Yeah well-”

“Thanks for your help with everything.” Louis shook hands with Tindili, still laughing under his breath. He watched his ex-partner drive away a minute later, wondering if it would be the last time he’d see him.

Next week, the exciting conclusion!