Dark Days

CHAPTER 20

The coach hummed on for several hours, past Oxford, closer to Birmingham than London before it pulled off the motorway onto a B road, and from there onto something that Jack thought might have last been used to herd medieval sheep.

After what seemed like an eternity of potholes at war with both the coach’s suspension and Jack’s spine, they rolled to a stop in front of a low pile of stones and a slate roof that Jack supposed could have passed for a monastery at some point in the distant past.

A group of men in threadbare clothes loitered in front of the main doors, and not far off a generator buzzed, delivering power via a thick orange cable fed through a shattered window.

The whole place looked like a before shot on one of those posh makeover shows that Pete liked to watch sometimes, when she was trying to turn her brain off for sleep. Beside him, the kid sniffed.

“Looks fucking haunted.”

“We should be so lucky,” Jack muttered.

The bald bloke gave him a shove. “Move along. You’ll be taken for a shower and delousing and then we’ll see about a bed.”

Jack decided to just go along—the more concrete information he could give to Belial, the better. The kid was busy goggling at everything as they passed room after room filled with decades of dust, junk, and mildew, and Jack was busy taking inventory of the sad sacks floating about the place.

There were mages, and he caught a few markings of orders like the Stygian Brothers—black magic to the core. The usual mix of shapeshifters and other dark-dwelling creatures of the Black. Even a few zombies stood around, one staring out the window at a far-off field dotted with the modern relatives of the sheep who’d made the road, the other in an alcove off the long hallway banging his head repeatedly against a wall.

They came into a thin, high room that Jack supposed had been the chapel at one point, and he started as a gray shape drifted down from above the altar. The bean-sidhe glared at him, her eyes as black and glassy as rock chips, before drifting away, the blood dribbling from her mouth leaving cold, hissing droplets on the stone floor.

If Legion was taking in Fae creatures, particularly nasty attack dogs like those, this was a serious coup against Hell indeed. Fae stayed away from the rest of them, whether they checked the human, demon, or “other” box. Pete had dealt with them once, just one of their many ruling bodies, and that once had been enough for her.

Jack didn’t like Fae, didn’t trust them. They were alien in a way demons weren’t. You couldn’t suss out their motives—and on a personal level, it had been a pack of bean-sidhe that a vengeful sorcerer had once sent to kill him.

Fae rulers kept a tight hold over their subjects—Mosswood was one of the few who’d managed to carve a life for himself outside their realm. If Legion had the power to attract followers even at the risk of what their rulers would do, Jack decided he was going to start having second thoughts pretty fucking quickly about meeting him.

A large room that Jack guessed had once been some sort of stable attached to the monastery proper held a cistern and a collection of makeshift hose showers that dribbled cold water, contributing to the damp stench rolling out from the falling-down space.

“Take your clothes off,” said the drone, and Jack looked over at a trio of naked men who were having their heads shaved at the other end of the room.

“Fun as this looks,” he said to the bald bloke, “I think I’ll just see Legion now.”

The drone blinked at him. “Eh?”

“Larry, Love Doctor, whatever he’s calling himself here,” Jack said. “I admit that I’m not really ready to don the mouse ears and be part of the club, mate. I told a little white lie so I could talk to your fearless leader. I know, it was awful of me, but there you have it. Probably best I’m not indoctrinated. I have a terrible problem following orders, and I look like shite in a jump suit.”

The drone reached for the police baton again, but the same lilting voice Jack remembered from his vision stopped him.

“It’s all right, Terrance.”

Jack expected his first glimpse of the demon to be worse, somehow. He thought there should be some recognition, at least—this was the bastard who haunted his dreams, after all.

But there was nothing but a flat sense of disappointment. Legion’s human body was small and ordinary, and his voice had an almost teenage cast.

“Mr. Winter did come here to talk to me,” the demon said. “I invited him.”

Jack watched the gears that ran Terrance’s brain-box grind and smoke for a moment, and then he jerked his thumb at the kid. “What about this one?”

Legion came over, looking the fat kid up and down. Legion wasn’t much bigger than Pete, in height or frame, but that started the first inkling of fear in Jack. The less care demons put into making their human forms large and scary, the more punch they usually packed. Belial was a prime example—that bastard was practically a midget, and he had enough magic to flatten London and put up a new Wizarding World of Harry Potter in its place, if he felt like it.

“Clean him up and put him to work feeding people,” Legion said, inhaling a sharp whiff of the boy’s scent. The kid recoiled.

Good lad, Jack thought. Finally got that survival instinct working. Too bad it’ll do you fuck-all good in this place.

“Come with me, Jack,” Legion said. He clapped Jack on the shoulder, but Jack had a lot of practice not flinching. It took all the fun out of it for bullies if you didn’t react.

“After you, Larry,” was all he said, knocking the demon’s small, soft white hand off him.

“Oh, come on now,” Legion said. “Is that any way to treat a new friend?”

“You and I aren’t friends,” Jack said, giving the demon a sharp smile. “So let’s just have that understood right at minute one, shall we? Save both of us a lot of tears shed into our pints later on.”

Legion didn’t alter his expression in the slightest. The face was a mask, Jack realized, even more than Belial’s was. Absolutely no relationship to what was going on beneath the surface. The perfect poker face.

“Have it your way, Jack,” was all he said before he opened the door to the monastery and ushered Jack in.

“After you,” Jack said. If Legion thought Jack would show his back, the fresh air in the country had driven him stark raving mad.

Legion pulled a pout. “Jack. You don’t trust me.”

Jack tilted his head. He was having a damn hard time watching this plastic life-sized doll being ridden hard by a demon whose true form he couldn’t get a handle on, but he was going to keep this nice and civil until the screaming started if it killed him. Abbadon hadn’t rattled him, the Princes hadn’t made him shake—he was damned if some little pipsqueak with an ill-fitting human suit was going to get him there.

“Should I, Larry?” he said at last.

Legion grinned wide, so wide that the skin of his face creaked. “Probably not.”

The key weighed in Jack’s pocket, but he left it alone. Legion wasn’t stupid, and neither was he. “You want to do this right here, in front of the true believers?”

Legion winked at him, and Jack felt a yank in his guts, like he’d missed a step and started to fall. When he blinked, they stood in a small turret room overlooking the fields and the grounds, the figures below them moving around, pushing wheelbarrows, trimming bushes, or carting loads of laundry to and from an outbuilding.

“Neat trick,” Jack said.

“One of my best,” Legion said. “’Course, I got a lot more I could show you if you slag me off, Jack.”

“Belial told me about your little Doctor Who gadget,” Jack said. “So cut out the stage show. If you want to impress me … well, you can’t.”

“Poor Belial.” Legion sat on the sill and looked down at the people below. “He believes in the Princes as much as those creatures down there believe in me. How disappointed was he when he had to tell you I’d yanked the most precious artifact in Hell’s vaults out from under his nose?”

“No so much disappointed as gunning for your balls,” Jack said. “I’d watch it with him, were I you. Belial’s trickier than he seems.”

“To you maybe,” Legion said. “You’re human.”

“And what are you?” Jack asked. If he was going to get a hold on Legion, it was going to have to happen soon. “A demon with delusions of grandeur? Because I know the whole Legion thing is bunk, mate. I’m not some starry-eyed nincompoop fresh off a turnip lorry.”

He knew he’d made a tactical error the minute the words left his lips. Legion closed the distance and shoved him into the wall, the plaster cracking under Jack’s skull. “I am Legion,” the demon hissed. “I am the undoing of this world.”

Letting go of Jack, he began to laugh, a sound that didn’t match the movement of his lips, that sounded more like wind screaming down a tube tunnel than any sound produced by a human mouth.

“All right, all right,” he said. “So that was a bit dramatic, but seriously, Jack … I am the thing that the demons fear. I’m the thing they kept locked up beside what I took from them. And now, they’ve fucked up and I’m free. I’ve got the humans, the Fae, and soon there won’t even be a Hell any longer to stand against me. So tell me, Jack, what grand plan do you have?”

“I don’t believe you, first of all,” Jack said. “A few stray Fae doesn’t mean you’ve got any sort of influence.”

Legion shrugged. “All right,” he said. “See for yourself.”

Jack felt the top-of-the-rollercoaster sensation again, and when he opened his eyes they were in the woods he’d seen from the turret, grass wet under his boots and Legion grinning at him like he’d just pulled two naked succubi out of a hat.

“Told you that was my best one,” he said.

Jack ignored him. His senses prickled at the encroachment of something that cut a wide swath through the Black—not quite the hammer fall of a demon’s magic, but something bigger and badder than him all the same.

He swallowed the dry lump that grew in his throat as six Fae stepped from the trees—not creatures, but actual Fae, tall and black-eyed, with blue veins creeping under their pale skin. They regarded Jack as he stared at them. He’d never been this close to a Fae, by choice, and he decided it had been a smart decision. They felt like being covered in snakes, like cold water pouring down his throat and burning every last bit of air from his lungs.

“Jack,” the demon purred. “These lovely, very pale fellows would like to show you the error of your assumption. Interested?”

“All right,” Jack said. “So you and the Fae are cozy. How long you think that’ll last when they find out you’re gunning for top chair in Hell?”

Legion began to laugh again, slinging his arm around Jack and walking with him down the slope back toward the monastery.

“Jack, I don’t care about Hell. I hate that place and I’d gladly see it burn. Hell gave me the means to come here, to this place, and what did I see? More misery. More suffering. More creatures stranded where they shouldn’t be. Begs the question … why?”

Just tag him and use the key, Jack’s mind screamed at him, but Legion’s fingers clamped down on his shoulder, so hard he felt the bone creak.

“I swear if you reach for that pig-sticker Belial kitted you up with I’ll rip your arm off and feed you the fingers one by one before I mail the rest of you to your wife,” Legion hissed. “There’s so much misery in this world, Jack. All the worlds. I’m going to take it all away.”

Jack dug in his heels. He believed that Legion would hurt him, but he wasn’t going to be led around like a toy poodle. “If I had a tenner for every speech from every twat who had plans for the apocalypse, I’d have enough for a holiday in Spain with a personal bikini-clad waitress to pour sangria directly into my mouth and then change my daughter’s diapers, so why don’t you just get it all out of your system and then we can get on with what you really want.”

Legion blinked at him. All of his reflexes were slightly out of sync, Jack realized, like he was being remote-controlled. “But that is what I want,” the demon said. “And it’s what I’m going to do. You know and I know that the Black has been rattled to its core. Hell is cracking. One more shake, and the whole thing is going to fall over in a pile. I aim to be the thing that flattens it all. Then there will be no more Black. No more daylight. No more Hell. All together, Jack. Just like we are here.”

“I’m sure you know that if the barriers come down, everything will collapse under its own weight like an overloaded footie stadium.”

“I’m counting on that bit, yes,” Legion purred. “Jack, I appreciate your moxie. I love the human spirit and all the stupid shit it makes you lot do. But rest assured, this will happen. I’ve spent a lot of time moving about, setting this up just so, so the person who would try and ruin it for me, well … let’s just say it would be regrettable for this person to have a wife or a baby daughter that I could access.”

Jack had sworn he was going to stay calm. He was going to play this right, use what his visions had given him to his advantage and not let fear take over. He hadn’t considered rage, though, and it threw a wrench into the entire thing.

He moved for Legion, and the demon blinked out of existence, coming back with a shimmer a few dozens yards away, laughing that nails-on-metal laugh again.

Jack looked down at his palm, the key clutched in it, rough sides biting into his hand and causing dark blood to well up.

“That’s good,” Legion said. “Use that rage, Jack. I know you won’t, but I’ll offer to let you come along with me. Stand on this side of the equation for a change, the side without the bloodshed and heartbreak. You don’t have any friends in the Black and precious few out of it. You have nothing to lose if everyone is forced to live in the same miserable pit of existence.”

“You think you’re special?” Jack had landed in mud and could taste earth and grit on his tongue. He spat them out. “You think you’re unlike anything the world has seen before? I’ve got news for you, Legion.” Jack pulled himself to his feet. Maybe this was it—this was the great arse-kicking he’d seen himself take. Well, so be it. He wasn’t going to just stand here and let the maniac bang on about ripping the universe a new arse.

“You’re nothing,” Jack ground out. “You’re a petty little demon with a god complex, and I’ve seen a dozen of you in my lifetime. My human lifetime. That should tell you exactly how often somebody gets that bright idea down in the Pit. If you want a dick-measuring contest with the Princes, then have at it. But you leave the rest of us alone, because if you keep up this nonsense, collecting followers and making life hard for humanity in general, then I am going to put an end to you, and you won’t end up in one of Belial’s cozy little torture chambers.”

Jack took a step toward Legion, even though it was probably the exact opposite of an appropriate reaction, which was to run the fuck away, fast as he could. He never had much common sense when he got really angry, which is why he only got really angry about once a decade or so. He could see blue fire at the edges of his vision, as his magic gathered and he didn’t give a rat’s arse in that moment whether or not he walked away. If this shit-stain moved on him, they were both going to bleed.

“You’ll just be dead,” he snarled at the demon. “Dead as every other twit who rolled the dice with the apocalypse and lost. Don’t fuck with me, Legion, because I’m not like other humans. I am capable of making your life exceedingly fucking difficult, and if you cross me or my family my last breath will be spent shoving you face-first through the Bleak Gates and into the Land of the Dead.”

Legion blinked again, and had him by the throat. Pete would have been furious, Jack thought, letting his anger get a leg up like that. Making him sloppy and grandiose instead of clever, which was what the situation called for. Any twit could shout and wave his arms. Nobody was going to stop a mad demon by cursing him out.

“Oh, I like you, Jack,” Legion said. “I think I’ll keep you alive just long enough to see what becomes of this world you love so much. And then, once I’ve systematically broken you and everyone you care about, you’ll die hearing the screams of your family.” The demon tightened his grip, and as he did his skin rippled and changed. Jack caught a glimpse of the face behind the mild mask the demon wore. It was all sharp edges, the chitinous shell of an insect, with eyes that were gold and depthless, twin suns that you couldn’t look at without burning.

“But not yet,” Legion whispered, lips brushing Jack’s ear. “We both still have our work to do.”

Jack opened his mouth—to scream or curse more, he wasn’t sure—but gravity kicked him in the ribs again and he stood at a service station on the motorway, a group of coach tourists staring at him with frowns.

“Konnichiwa,” he said, waving them off.

He made his way around the back of the service center, pulling a stray piece of chalk out of the pocket of his homeless getup. Belial glared at him after Jack had blinked and the demon had shown up, straightening his tie.

“What now? Can’t you just phone, like a normal person?”

“I found Legion,” Jack managed. His hand was on fire, the gash deeper than he’d initially thought. The key rested in his pocket, still humming with the power of the Gates. He’d been so close. So close, and he’d fucked it up.

That was a better lie than admitting Legion was never going to let him get close in the first place. A sucker punch from Jack and a quick trip back to Hell had never been in the cards.

“Well, I don’t hear a celebration going on downstairs,” Belial said. “So I’m guessing he handed you your arse and sent you on your way.”

“We need to talk,” Jack told him. “That thing he stole, the bit that puts space and time in a blender—he’s gotten very fucking proficient with it. He has bigger plans than Hell, and I think he’s fully capable of executing them. He’s insane, Belial. You lot are going to need a bigger boat.”

Belial grimaced. “I was afraid of this. That’s what comes of nobody bothering to find out how the one piece of junk we have lying around that could really do some damage actually works. Always too afraid of it getting into the wrong hands.”

“I hate to break it to you,” Jack said. “It’s in the wrong fucking hands. Has been for some time. He’s claiming that he used it to set up Nergal, Abbadon’s jail break, all of it. Could he be telling even the slightest bit of truth, Belial?” Saying it out loud made Jack’s throat constrict. That much power was beyond anything any living creature was supposed to carry. Even Abbadon, the first citizen of Hell, the thing that predated demons by millennia, hadn’t carried that much juice.

“He could be,” Belial said after a silence that was entirely too long for him to be speaking the truth when it ended. “He could also be fucking with your head. He’s rather good at that.”

“You gave me a rock and a pat on the back, and that’s not going to do it anymore,” Jack said. He fished the key out of his pocket and held it up. “We need to see the Princes.”

Belial shook his head, but Jack chopped the air with his hand. “No excuses. No fucking gatekeepers. Take me there or I’m using this and showing up in their parlor myself. Going to start shouting and putting my feet all over the furniture.”

“I hate you sometimes, you know that?” Belial growled, grabbing Jack’s arm.

“I hate you all the time,” Jack said as the walls of the world fell away. “So we’re even.”