Divine Comedy (Brimstone/Dogma)
Title: Divine Comedy
Author: tigerlady
Fandom: Brimstone/Dogma
Pairing: none
Rating: uh, PG?
Summary: When Zeke tracks a demon to a strip club in the middle of nowhere, Indiana, he gets more than he bargained for.
Notes: For yuletide 2004. Thanks so much for jebbypal for doing an emergency beta on this. It helped tremendously. If you see something ungrammatical though, it's not her fault 'cause I played with it after she had her go.
So a demon, an angel, and a muse walk into a bar. Or more specifically, a little strip club in the middle of Nowhere, Indiana. Throw in Satan and you've got the makings of a beautiful joke on yours truly. Of course that's par for the course when it comes to my second tour here on Earth.
I suppose that calls for a bit of explanation. Name's Zeke Stone. I was a cop. A damn good one, too, the most decorated in the South Side of New York City. Sure, maybe I didn't always toe the line nice and proper, but I got the job done. That's how I ended up in this situation. My wife, Rosalyn, was raped. We caught the bastard who did it, but he got off. So I made sure justice was done.
God took a little exception to my vigilantism. So when I died shortly thereafter from some perp's bullets in my face, I took the elevator straight down. We'll skip over that fifteen years in Hell; needless to say, it's not a pleasant place. Dante wasn't even close.
It probably comes as no surprise that I wanted out of there. So despite the fact that he's the Father of Lies, when he offered me a chance to leave and possibly regain my life, I took it, catch and all.
And the catch? I had to track down one hundred and thirteen of the vilest, most irredeemable souls to have ever walked the earth. They had somehow engineered a little prison break while Satan's eyes were elsewhere, and boy was he pissed. Hurt his pride and set him up for some not- so-friendly communication from the guy above all at the same time. Thus my get-out-of-Hell- free card.
I was doing a pretty good job of rounding them up, if I do say so myself. He said I was taking my own sweet time about it, but Hell, wouldn't you take time to smell the coffee? Besides, he doesn't make it easy. It's a good thing I was a trained detective, because interpreting his clues was a full time job. Satan is a paradox, a thing of chaos, you know. He wants me to get the job done as quickly as possible, but he constantly delights in making the task as difficult as possible. I'd be tempted to screw around even more, but the problem is those souls aren't out there being good little boys and girls. Most of them are back to their old tricks, creating chaos and hurting people. Killing people. And I can't stand that. So I do my job.
That's how I ended up in Indiana, right in the middle of a bad joke waiting to happen. I'd had to leave LA finally. A lot of the souls had taken up residence there, but most had left after I cleaned out a good number of them. I was making my way back across the country, searching for anything that smacked of otherworldly intervention. I'd heard some suspicious stories about an altercation in a strip club in Illinois. The only thing anyone had remembered was the name of the dancer: Serendipity. Not your usual Candy or Barbie, and it proved easy enough to track her down.
There had been huge billboard ads proclaiming the assets of Billionaire Bunny Barn a hundred miles down the main highway. Those signs apparently paid for themselves, because the parking lot was filled with eighteen-wheelers. The place wasn't one of the fancier clubs I'd ever seen, but it was decently clean. Smoke curled through the air, obscuring the stage and clientele both. I picked a spot next to the runway, ordered what was on tap, and sat back to wait.
The problem with my job is it's next to impossible to know for certain if my target is demonic until they give themselves away. It would have been nice to be equipped with some type of Spidey Sense, but other than the occasional stench of brimstone none of the convicts I've encountered set off anything more than my cop instincts. I've missed several good opportunities because of that, but I'd rather not shoot out the eyes of an innocent human by mistake. Not that he would care; Hell, he'd probably get a kick out of it.
I checked out the dancer. Tall, leggy, and blond. She was cute, but not the girl I was looking for. I let my attention wander the room. I didn't know for sure that Serendipity was my quarry. It could be she had a stalker of the demonic type. Most of the men were focused on the stage, glassy-eyed from lust and alcohol. I skipped over those quickly enough. Not enough brain cells left over for any trouble from them.
I looked across the runway, squinting through the murk to see the other patrons. That's when I noticed him. He was dressed in a hooded sweatshirt and maroon suit of all things, holding a glass of pale booze while glancing around the bar. I smiled to myself; his presence was a sure sign that I was on the right track. That, or he was feeling particularly evil this evening. It was a coin toss, but I was willing to take the chance. I skirted the bar and slipped in beside him, setting my own glass down with a thunk.
He ignored me.
I waited a few minutes, determined not to play whatever game he was dealing today. I checked out the patrons on this side of the stage, but none of them gave me the tingles. He still hadn't said anything, and my patience was wearing thin. I might not always be in a hurry about my job, but once I'm on a case I like to take care of business.
That's when he spit in the glass he was holding.
I blinked. I'd never seen him doing anything quite so crass, and believe me, once you've seen your boss tie together the shoestrings of a homeless man, the good behavior bar isn't very high. As I watched, he took a sip from a second glass I hadn't noticed earlier, and spat into the original one.
"That is absolutely disgusting," I told him, willing to forfeit this round in order to stop whatever this was.
He turned toward me at last, gave me a withering glare, and turned back toward the stage.
"Thank you so kindly for pointing that out," he said. "Don't watch if it bothers you so much."
I looked around, checking to make sure I was still in the bar. Smoke, check. Naked girl, check. Surly Devil next to me, check.
"What is up with you today?" I asked. Despite my better judgment, I was a little worried.
He turned back to me and gave me a once over that told me I wasn't fit to clean his shoes. Then he squinted like he'd never seen me before. He leaned forward and...sniffed me.
"What the Hell?" I asked in astonishment. "I know you have a loose interpretation of personal space, but that's going a little far."
He rolled his eyes and waved his hand. I blinked again.
Rather than a middle-aged, slender, dark-haired Devil beside me, there was a middle-aged, slender, dark-haired...Man? On second thought, he couldn't be human, not after that trick.
"Better?" he asked. His voice was deep, draped in some punky English accent.
"That depends," I told him. "Who are you?"
He took another sip from his glass, spit, and cleared his throat. "Not that it's any of your business, but," and then he stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out a business card.
"Metatron?"
"Herald of the Almighty and Voice of the one true God, blah, blah, blah," he said. It was obvious that he'd been through the introduction a time or two before.
"Ah." Frankly, I couldn't think of anything witty to say. I thought about the last angel I had encountered; it had been a painful, but ultimately uplifting experience. Somehow this guy didn't strike me as the type to lend a sympathetic ear and pat me on the back when I was done.
"You're the hound, correct?" he asked as he returned to watching the stage.
"What?"
He rolled his eyes again. This guy wore British superiority better than he wore his suit.
"You are the hound of Hell sent to drag the escapees back to his master," Metatron said. I thought I heard him say 'nitwit' under his breath, but I might have been projecting.
What he said caught up to me. "He's not my master," I said, very slowly, very seriously.
Metatron just lifted his glass, spat, and raised an eyebrow. "Could have fooled me."
I was going to ask him what he meant by that when the scratchy microphone came to life to announce the next act. Serendipity.
The woman who came on stage was gorgeous, all delicate cocoa-cream skin on top of a perfect body. She had long black hair pulled up in a high pony tail, which brushed her feet when she bent backwards in an interesting display of agility. Nice.
"I wouldn't get too interested, if I were you," Metatron said dryly. "She's not your type."
"I don't know about that," I said. There was something unnatural about the way she moved, something that drew the attention of the men in the room beyond what a regular naked woman did. Dollar bills were appearing with frightening speed. I was betting that she was my target.
"Don't say I didn't warn you," he shot back.
I ignored him. I kept my eyes on her, which meant I saw the whole show. She was quite a lovely demon, all said. She stripped to a thong, then walked toward the exit. I stood and ran toward the back, pushing my way past a surprised bouncer.
"Hey!" he shouted, but I was already by him. Serendipity was pulling on a satiny robe. She looked up as I pulled my gun.
"Oh, this is just swell," she said, lisping a little. "Raymond! What is this guy doing back here?"
She didn't seem frightened, not like a human would be.
"Want to explain a few things for me?" I managed to pull my badge and flash it left-handed at Raymond behind me. "Like the demolition of a certain club last year? Ring any bells?"
"I think someone has rung your bell," she said. "What are you doing, barging into my dressing room like the charge of the light brigade? Aren't there laws about these things?"
She had the feisty Latin temper to match her coloring. I pocketed my badge and got a better grip on my gun.
"Let's change the subject. How long were you downstairs? Less than a hundred?"
"Downstairs?" she asked, looking bewildered. She was good. "This place has a downstairs? What are you talking about?"
"Hell, lady. I'm here to send you back home."
Serendipity looked shocked. They usually do.
"Hell? I was never in Hell. I fought on Her side. I was given my freedom to walk the earth as I please. What is up with you?"
"Excuse me?" That wasn't the response I was expecting.
"I said, who are you and what do you think you are doing threatening me?"
I let the gun dip toward the floor, though I stayed alert for an attack. It wouldn't be the first time one of the souls tried to play innocent.
"Zeke Stone. Who are you?"
"Serendipity, just like the announcer said. I'm a muse."
I blinked in confusion, then shook it off. "Amused?"
"No, idiot," she spat. "A muse. Part of the creative process, you know?"
That was just too much. I holstered my gun, rubbed my eyes, and turned back toward the bar. If she was going to gouge my eyes out, she could do it while I had a beer.
"Now where are you going? You owe me an apology," she yelled.
I settled back onto my seat by Metatron. The bartender gave me a dirty look, but served up a draft anyway.
"I told you she wasn't your type," he gloated.
"You could have been a little bit more forthcoming about that," I said. My head was starting to hurt, which should have been impossible. I hoped muses didn't carry some kind of Hell-flu like Typhoid Mary had.
"You struck me as the type who likes to do it his own way," Metatron drawled. I ignored him.
"Ah, Ezekiel. Such a mess you make of things sometimes." Satan appeared on my other side, cigar in hand. I should have known this day would not be complete until he put in his two cents.
"Your presence is not welcome here," Metatron said coldly.
That got my attention.
"Why if it isn't the great blow-hard himself," Satan said. He sounded as delighted as I've ever heard him. "Tell me, have you been enjoying your promotion to chief ass-kisser since I left? You were so good at it when it was my cheeks you were sniffing."
Metatron glowered, but he didn't back down.
"Your hound and I were just discussing the abysmal depths of your incompetence," he shot back. "Truly, Lucifer. I know a couple of bumbling prophets who could do a better job."
Satan never lost his Devil-may-care smile, but there was a fire in his eyes that told me Metatron had hit the mark. Never let it be said that he doesn't take pride in his work. I was fully expecting him to blame me for the failure to roundup the prisoners, so I was surprised when he changed the subject.
"As much as I enjoy trading barbs with idiots, I am on a tight schedule. So if you will excuse me, I'd like to speak with my employee."
Metatron smiled; it wasn't pretty. "Please, don't let me stop you."
They stared at each other for a full minute, neither giving ground. I rolled my eyes and stood up. Knowing full well they could spend the actual eternity in a staring contest, I decided it was up to me to break the impasse.
"Come on," I said, pulling at the sleeve of his pin-striped jacket. "We can talk in the john."
He shot me a dirty look, but then smiled a predatory smile. "Why Ezekiel, how kinky. And here I thought you had no imagination."
I let it slide off my back as I marched toward the men's room. I'd heard worse. If all I had to put up with was insult and innuendo, I counted it as a blessed day.
The room was filthy. I pulled up a corner of the cleanest sink and leaned against it. "So what is it you have to tell me?"
"Ah, Ezekiel, ever the impatient one. No hello, how are you doing?"
"I think we skipped over that phase of our relationship when you ordered up the torture and torment. Now did you have a clue for me, or are you just here to pant after the Voice of God?"
He looked at me with heavy-lidded eyes, making me think of a cobra ready to strike. He leaned in close. I didn't give any ground, so his hair brushed against my cheek as he breathed into my ear.
"Metatron was never to my taste, and I would leave that subject alone if you know what is good for you, Ezekiel." He pulled back and grinned. "But since you never do what is best for yourself, I'll look forward to the day when I teach you that lesson."
He slapped my shoulder with just enough force to make it sting, a friendly gesture. "Now, let's mop up your mess. You were grievously mistaken when you attempted to kill the muse, but I don't think your time has been entirely wasted. A little birdie told me a demon slithered through these parts not so long ago."
I stood up straight at that. He could only mean one soul. "Ash? She's here?"
His eyes hardened, little pinpricks of coal that reminded me that it was personal for him as well. "Not too far. Perhaps the muse may be of assistance. I've heard Ashur has become wary of the company of men."
"So that's it? I know you want her as bad as I do. Give me a better clue!"
But Satan just smiled, though it looked a little sad, and faded away.
"Bastard," I called. The guy that came through the door at that point gave me a dirty look, so I turned around and washed non-existent germs off my hands. Once the man entered a stall I left the room.
I considered where to start. If the muse was supposed to help, then an apology was probably in order.
######
"So let me get this straight," Serendipity said. "You burst in on my act, accuse me of being a demon, walk away without so much as an apology, and then expect me to help you out? Some cajones you have."
I rubbed my eyes, really wishing that aspirin worked on demon-kind. I took another swig of my beer before I tried to reason with her.
"Look. I'm apologizing now. I was trying to do my job. I'm sorry I had a case of mistaken identity. But it's for the greater good. Surely you want to help the greater good?"
She scoffed. "Like I haven't heard that one before, straight from Lucifer himself. I don't want to have anything to do with El Diablo or his kind."
She sat back on her couch, the robe gaping just a little above her breasts. Serendipity smirked as she noticed me noticing. So much for the disinterested cop routine. Maybe a little charm would ease the way.
"So, what is a muse doing in a strip club? I would have thought that a job like this would be on his side of things."
Serendipity rolled her eyes. "No wonder you ended up down below. God doesn't think sex is evil. Why would She have created it if it was bad?"
I blinked at the She reference, but decided it was unimportant. "Why did God create sin then?"
"Clueless," she said, looking skywards with her hands spread in supplication. "They're all clueless. Hello, free will? Sin is a side effect of man's ability to choose." She gave me a scathing look. "Obviously you chose poorly."
I didn't rise to that one. Any other day I might be interested in theological debate, but time was wasting while Ash was doing God and the Devil knew what.
"So back to my original question," I said. "What are you doing here, in a more general sense?"
"Oh," she said, friendly for once. "I'm on vacation. There was a little trouble a while back that I helped God with, and She let me back into heaven without having to work." She leaned forward to whisper. "Between the two of us, I got a little bored. So I decided to visit earth again, see if I still have the touch."
"Let you back into heaven?"
She sat back. "Leave the damned to pick up on the little things. It wasn't like I was exiled," she assured me. "Not like Bartleby and Loki. More like having a little contract negotiation."
"Right." I felt more confused than ever, but I felt like I was making progress. She was at least speaking to me, even if she acted like I was an imbecile. Imbecile, I could work with. "So you haven't noticed anything else strange in town?"
"Else? You mean beside yourself?" I nodded, though I had meant Serendipity's own presence. "Not really. Metatron has been showing up for the shows lately, but everyone knows he's a perv. It's a good thing he can't get it up, or God would never have a Voice. Men," she said in disgust.
"I thought you said there was nothing wrong with sex?"
"There's not. Men are obsessed, that's all. Wait." She tapped a long fingernail against her lip. "There was something that I noticed. What was it?"
I kept quiet. Her brows drew together as she pouted in thought.
"That's right! There's a new women's only group setting up downtown. Now normally I'm all for female solidarity, but something about this one gave me the willies." She shivered elegantly. "All those snakes. Creepy."
Bingo. It sounded like Ash's standard calling card. Now I just needed to make sure I didn't have another case of mistaken identity.
"I don't suppose you would be interested in going to one of their meetings," I said. "Just to check things out."
She narrowed her eyes at me. I tried to look as innocent as possible. It always used to work on Ros, believe it or not.
"Madre de dios," she said. Loudly. She flung her hands up again. "Guide my immortal soul, but spare me from his begging eyes!"
I smiled. I guessed I still had it.
######
"Ready?" I asked, eyeing the darkened church in front of me.
"Sure," Serendipity said. "This should be a piece of cake after the last adventure I had."
I hoped she was right, but very rarely did things go as smoothly as I hoped. Especially when Ash was in the picture. Serendipity hadn't been able to determine if it was Ashur Badaktu running the shop when she went in this afternoon, but she had been able to wrangle an invitation to this gathering from the helpful clerk. The plan was for the muse to go in as a spy while I watched for any sign of Ash.
The side door was unlocked, so I made my way through the darkened nave to the balcony stairs. Serendipity wait outside for the rest of the group to show. I was pretty sure that she would be okay, unless she walked up to Ash and announced our plans.
I had just settled in against the railing, hidden by the shadows, when women's voices echoed through the vault of the church. The group had arrived; hopefully my quarry was among them.
"Are you sure this is okay, Tasha? I don't know about breaking into a church," one woman said.
"If you don't want to be a part of the group then leave now, Cheryl," a second woman said. I knew that voice. Apparently Ash wasn't bothering to disguise herself too carefully in this small town. I readjusted my grip on my gun, ready to use it when I got the first opportunity.
"What is it that we're doing?" That was Serendipity. I winced, wishing that she would keep quiet.
"Who are you again?" Ash immediately asked. "You seem familiar, but I know I didn't ask you here."
Uh-oh.
"I'm Sarah," the muse said. "Jamie invited me this afternoon. She said it would be a chance to bond with other women."
I held my breath (which is remarkably easy to do when you don't actually have to breathe), hoping that Ash would let it pass. I was done underestimating her intelligence. That sharp insight had dogged me since the day I met her.
"Fine," she said, and I sighed quietly. "You'll get your bonding, don't worry about that. Just stand to the side and don't do anything until I tell you to."
I chanced peeking over the edge of the balcony then. There was a group of eight women clustered in the middle aisle. I didn't spot the Ash I knew. It was possible that either her back was to me or she had disguised her face. Just my luck.
The women started walking toward the altar, climbing the steps to the sanctuary and then surrounding the cloth-draped stone. Several carried backpacks. I could hear them talking, but the low voices were distorted by the echoing space, and I couldn't make out what anyone said. Some began putting candles on various surfaces. Another stripped the white cloth off of the altar, carefully folding it before she set it aside. I was guessing that one wasn't Ash.
Then the woman next to Serendipity turned. Ash's thin face was ghost-pale in the candlelight. Her hair was longer than what she wore as a cop, and I thought it might be red. She was even more beautiful than I remembered.
I raised my gun, leveled the sights, and eased my finger over the trigger. I was a hair away from squeezing it when Ash turned again. Damn.
I waited, hoping for another easy shot. Unfortunately, her attention was focused on whatever she was setting up, so her back stayed to me. I noticed Serendipity mostly moving about looking helpful while accomplishing nothing. Good for her.
I was trying to overcome my squeamishness at shooting her in the back of the head when I noticed five of the women had formed a rough pentagram around the alter, candles in hand. I had a bad feeling about Ash's plans.
"No! I won't be part of this," Serendipity shouted.
That should have been my cue, but as I lined up Ash walked between the women toward Serendipity. There were too many civilians; I couldn't get a clean shot from up here. I debated half a second. I shut out Serendipity's startled cry and dashed to the stairs.
When I emerged at the bottom, I could only see six forms standing. Then I spotted Ash crouched over a body on the steps leading up to the altar.
"Leave her alone," I shouted. The time for cloak and dagger was over.
She looked up and grinned. I shot.
Ash leapt up and backwards, flipping over the altar as the bullet ricocheted off its surface.
"Shit!"
"Language, Ezekiel," Ash purred from the front of the church. "This is a house of God, after all."
I couldn't see her at all, just the women who seemed frozen like statues. I crouched down and started creeping along the edges of the pews. It was a skill I had acquired in my current job.
"Since when does that matter to you," I shouted, hoping to draw her out. She never could resist gloating banter.
"It doesn't," she spat back. "And after tonight, it won't matter to anyone else."
That didn't sound good. I peered around the frontmost pew. Serendipity was still crumpled at the base of the raised stage, but she was not my priority. I stepped forward, wary of Ash's tricks.
"So what does that mean?" I asked.
She laughed, a low chuckle that sent chills up my spine. It reminded me of him.
"Oh, Ezekiel, how little you know. Your God is but a petty ruler, bent on his supremacy at the cost of all the other gods. After tonight they shall be returned to their righteous place. All thanks to me."
"They must not be very powerful, if you have to take care of them then," I said as I stood and aimed.
Ash was seated in the priest's chair, her face hidden behind the woman she held in her lap. A knife was at the woman's throat. Snakes curled around her feet and the legs of the chair.
"Did you think it would be so easy, Zeke? You're too late," she said, and I could hear joy in her voice. "Just a few more words from my priestesses, and Pandora's box will open. All of his treachery will be erased."
I started to circle to the side, but Ash drew the knife closer to the girl's neck. A drop of blood welled up. It dripped to the floor, transforming into a small snake.
"Let me get this right," I scoffed. "You're going to defeat the Almighty by opening a box?"
"Didn't I already mention how little you know? Perhaps I should enlighten you. You'll benefit from the end of his rule as well. No more dominion over Lucifer, no reason for hell."
"It will be chaos," I said.
"Perhaps," she replied. "But not for long. No, first we'll have to go through a bit of discomfort, that's true. But then the natural pantheon will reassert itself. It's quite simple, really. Your god is rather terrible at micro-managing details. He tends to leave loopholes, especially when it comes to the church on earth. I'm just going to exploit one of them."
"Right." I was starting to think she had gone completely off the deep end, and that maybe it would be safer to let her go ahead with her craziness rather than endanger the hostage. I could shoot her after everyone was clear. "Like a big lawyer in the sky."
"More like an incompetent and hypocritical judge," she said. "Didn't you hear the story of Bartelby and Loki?"
"What?"
"He didn't tell you that, did he? It's remarkable how poor Lucifer's attention to detail has been lately. Perhaps he's spending too much time with you."
I would have readily agreed with that last part, but she made it sound rather dirty.
"Who are Bartelby and Loki?" I asked. It didn't look like I was going to diffuse the situation quickly, so I was hoping to at least diffuse it in my favor.
"Were. Bartelby and Loki were angels who angered God. So he banished them to earth, never to return to heaven. And your God is so wrapped up in his own infallibility that to admit to a mistake would mean the end of his rule. So when it looked like he was going to be forced to do just that, he destroyed them. And this is the god that preaches repentance and forgiveness."
I still didn't think she was making any sense, but I was tired of talking while the innocent were in peril. I started to circle to the side, watching the knife in Ash's hands carefully. I froze as she barked something in a language I didn't understand. The women started chanting. That's when I noticed the box on the altar.
It wasn't very impressive, just a small rectangular box, wooden from what I could tell. But it was glowing. That wasn't a good sign. I might have to sacrifice the hostage.
"Getting nervous, Ezekiel?" Ash taunted. "You shouldn't be. This will be a good thing, and then we can be exalted together."
A breeze rushed across the dome, snuffing out most of the candles.
"You shall not do this!"
The booming voice echoed through the space, nearly loud enough to deafen me. I couldn't see a source. It wasn't until I noticed air rushed downwards over my face that I looked up.
A figure was hovering over the altar, huge white wings holding him aloft.
"You can't stop me," Ash hissed.
I took a shot. The bullet clipped her shoulder, causing her to drop the knife.
"No!" She shoved the woman from her lap and leapt straight upwards, her hands reaching for the angel's face. I fired, not trying for her eyes. She tumbled to the ground on the other side of the altar. I race around.
"Take that, bitch," Serendipity hissed as she brought her hand down to stab at Ash's face. Light streamed out of one eye. Ash kicked out. Serendipity flew across the room and crashed into one of the pews. I fired.
Blue light shrieked out of her form, coursing around the church with unholy shadows as Ash's soul was sucked back to Hell. Pain seared across my chest, but it was a satisfying pain. That was a tattoo that had ridden my body far too long.
The angel landed beside Serendipity and pulled his wings in. The women around the altar were starting to stir in confusion now that Ash no longer had them under her spell. I walked over to see whether Serendipity was all right.
"Oh, my head," she moaned.
"You'll be fine," the angel said. I finally recognized him as Metatron.
I left them for the moment to direct the women out of the church. A few well placed lies had them believing that the cops were unhappy with breaking and entering, but if they left quietly, no charges would be pressed. My badge was the second most useful thing I had returned with--after my gun, of course.
"Thanks for the help," I said to Serendipity and Metatron after we were alone.
Serendipity held up a ball-point pen. "The pen is mightier than the sword, you know."
Metatron rolled his eyes. "That's terrible. Stick with being inspiration. It suits you much better."
Serendipity pouted, but I was more interested in what had happened with Ash.
"I'm surprised you got involved. Is what she said true then? That box up there could be the end of heaven and hell?"
Metatron raised an eyebrow, then walked up to the altar.
"This?" he asked, running a finger along the edge of the box. He flipped it open. "This is nothing. I just thought you could use a hand since I was in the neighborhood." He smiled at me. "Now I need to get back to His side. Coming, muse? Or are you still on vacation?"
She laid a hand on my arm as she turned toward him. "I'm coming. Don't get your panties in a twist."
I could see the sour look on his face from twenty feet away. Serendipity brushed a kiss across my cheek.
"Keep hoping," she whispered in my ear. "You're on the right path."
She circled around the altar, moving a little stiffly. Metatron opened the door to the sacristy. Brilliant light poured through it, and then they both stepped through and disappeared.
I sank down on the pew behind me. This had been one of the strangest hunts so far, which was saying a lot. I felt rather numb. I was relieved that Ash was gone, but it also felt a little wrong. Like maybe I was missing some of the evidence in her case. She had been a powerful woman at one time, but she was bent by resentment and more years in Hell than I could fathom.
"Come now, Ezekiel, you can't think that she didn't deserve it. She slaughtered her own daughter, after all."
I shrugged, not in the mood to argue with him about doomed souls. I always came out on the losing side.
"Surely you don't believe what she said about God. He is all-powerful, you know. I learned that lesson the hard way."
I looked at him then. He seemed serious, much like he had the first time Ash had revealed herself.
"I don't know what to believe anymore," I told him.
We sat in silence for a few minutes. I glanced over to make sure he was still there.
"Are you happy that she's back? She was the ringleader, after all."
"I suppose," he said. "I have her in the most secure area now, guarded by my most fearsome lieutenant. She won't escape again."
"I heard a but in there."
He laughed. "You seem to think you know me. That will never happen, Ezekiel. But I will give you this much. Sometimes, I wonder what would happen if she were right."
With that he was gone. A piece of paper fluttered to the floor like a feather from a bird. I picked it up and unfolded it. It was an ad flyer.
Jay and Silent Bob, prophets of Her Almighty Kick-assedness, provide wisdom and guidance for a minimal fee.
It looked like I had another clue to follow. I wondered what kind of cosmic joke I'd end up in next.
Author: tigerlady
Fandom: Brimstone/Dogma
Pairing: none
Rating: uh, PG?
Summary: When Zeke tracks a demon to a strip club in the middle of nowhere, Indiana, he gets more than he bargained for.
Notes: For yuletide 2004. Thanks so much for jebbypal for doing an emergency beta on this. It helped tremendously. If you see something ungrammatical though, it's not her fault 'cause I played with it after she had her go.
So a demon, an angel, and a muse walk into a bar. Or more specifically, a little strip club in the middle of Nowhere, Indiana. Throw in Satan and you've got the makings of a beautiful joke on yours truly. Of course that's par for the course when it comes to my second tour here on Earth.
I suppose that calls for a bit of explanation. Name's Zeke Stone. I was a cop. A damn good one, too, the most decorated in the South Side of New York City. Sure, maybe I didn't always toe the line nice and proper, but I got the job done. That's how I ended up in this situation. My wife, Rosalyn, was raped. We caught the bastard who did it, but he got off. So I made sure justice was done.
God took a little exception to my vigilantism. So when I died shortly thereafter from some perp's bullets in my face, I took the elevator straight down. We'll skip over that fifteen years in Hell; needless to say, it's not a pleasant place. Dante wasn't even close.
It probably comes as no surprise that I wanted out of there. So despite the fact that he's the Father of Lies, when he offered me a chance to leave and possibly regain my life, I took it, catch and all.
And the catch? I had to track down one hundred and thirteen of the vilest, most irredeemable souls to have ever walked the earth. They had somehow engineered a little prison break while Satan's eyes were elsewhere, and boy was he pissed. Hurt his pride and set him up for some not- so-friendly communication from the guy above all at the same time. Thus my get-out-of-Hell- free card.
I was doing a pretty good job of rounding them up, if I do say so myself. He said I was taking my own sweet time about it, but Hell, wouldn't you take time to smell the coffee? Besides, he doesn't make it easy. It's a good thing I was a trained detective, because interpreting his clues was a full time job. Satan is a paradox, a thing of chaos, you know. He wants me to get the job done as quickly as possible, but he constantly delights in making the task as difficult as possible. I'd be tempted to screw around even more, but the problem is those souls aren't out there being good little boys and girls. Most of them are back to their old tricks, creating chaos and hurting people. Killing people. And I can't stand that. So I do my job.
That's how I ended up in Indiana, right in the middle of a bad joke waiting to happen. I'd had to leave LA finally. A lot of the souls had taken up residence there, but most had left after I cleaned out a good number of them. I was making my way back across the country, searching for anything that smacked of otherworldly intervention. I'd heard some suspicious stories about an altercation in a strip club in Illinois. The only thing anyone had remembered was the name of the dancer: Serendipity. Not your usual Candy or Barbie, and it proved easy enough to track her down.
There had been huge billboard ads proclaiming the assets of Billionaire Bunny Barn a hundred miles down the main highway. Those signs apparently paid for themselves, because the parking lot was filled with eighteen-wheelers. The place wasn't one of the fancier clubs I'd ever seen, but it was decently clean. Smoke curled through the air, obscuring the stage and clientele both. I picked a spot next to the runway, ordered what was on tap, and sat back to wait.
The problem with my job is it's next to impossible to know for certain if my target is demonic until they give themselves away. It would have been nice to be equipped with some type of Spidey Sense, but other than the occasional stench of brimstone none of the convicts I've encountered set off anything more than my cop instincts. I've missed several good opportunities because of that, but I'd rather not shoot out the eyes of an innocent human by mistake. Not that he would care; Hell, he'd probably get a kick out of it.
I checked out the dancer. Tall, leggy, and blond. She was cute, but not the girl I was looking for. I let my attention wander the room. I didn't know for sure that Serendipity was my quarry. It could be she had a stalker of the demonic type. Most of the men were focused on the stage, glassy-eyed from lust and alcohol. I skipped over those quickly enough. Not enough brain cells left over for any trouble from them.
I looked across the runway, squinting through the murk to see the other patrons. That's when I noticed him. He was dressed in a hooded sweatshirt and maroon suit of all things, holding a glass of pale booze while glancing around the bar. I smiled to myself; his presence was a sure sign that I was on the right track. That, or he was feeling particularly evil this evening. It was a coin toss, but I was willing to take the chance. I skirted the bar and slipped in beside him, setting my own glass down with a thunk.
He ignored me.
I waited a few minutes, determined not to play whatever game he was dealing today. I checked out the patrons on this side of the stage, but none of them gave me the tingles. He still hadn't said anything, and my patience was wearing thin. I might not always be in a hurry about my job, but once I'm on a case I like to take care of business.
That's when he spit in the glass he was holding.
I blinked. I'd never seen him doing anything quite so crass, and believe me, once you've seen your boss tie together the shoestrings of a homeless man, the good behavior bar isn't very high. As I watched, he took a sip from a second glass I hadn't noticed earlier, and spat into the original one.
"That is absolutely disgusting," I told him, willing to forfeit this round in order to stop whatever this was.
He turned toward me at last, gave me a withering glare, and turned back toward the stage.
"Thank you so kindly for pointing that out," he said. "Don't watch if it bothers you so much."
I looked around, checking to make sure I was still in the bar. Smoke, check. Naked girl, check. Surly Devil next to me, check.
"What is up with you today?" I asked. Despite my better judgment, I was a little worried.
He turned back to me and gave me a once over that told me I wasn't fit to clean his shoes. Then he squinted like he'd never seen me before. He leaned forward and...sniffed me.
"What the Hell?" I asked in astonishment. "I know you have a loose interpretation of personal space, but that's going a little far."
He rolled his eyes and waved his hand. I blinked again.
Rather than a middle-aged, slender, dark-haired Devil beside me, there was a middle-aged, slender, dark-haired...Man? On second thought, he couldn't be human, not after that trick.
"Better?" he asked. His voice was deep, draped in some punky English accent.
"That depends," I told him. "Who are you?"
He took another sip from his glass, spit, and cleared his throat. "Not that it's any of your business, but," and then he stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out a business card.
"Metatron?"
"Herald of the Almighty and Voice of the one true God, blah, blah, blah," he said. It was obvious that he'd been through the introduction a time or two before.
"Ah." Frankly, I couldn't think of anything witty to say. I thought about the last angel I had encountered; it had been a painful, but ultimately uplifting experience. Somehow this guy didn't strike me as the type to lend a sympathetic ear and pat me on the back when I was done.
"You're the hound, correct?" he asked as he returned to watching the stage.
"What?"
He rolled his eyes again. This guy wore British superiority better than he wore his suit.
"You are the hound of Hell sent to drag the escapees back to his master," Metatron said. I thought I heard him say 'nitwit' under his breath, but I might have been projecting.
What he said caught up to me. "He's not my master," I said, very slowly, very seriously.
Metatron just lifted his glass, spat, and raised an eyebrow. "Could have fooled me."
I was going to ask him what he meant by that when the scratchy microphone came to life to announce the next act. Serendipity.
The woman who came on stage was gorgeous, all delicate cocoa-cream skin on top of a perfect body. She had long black hair pulled up in a high pony tail, which brushed her feet when she bent backwards in an interesting display of agility. Nice.
"I wouldn't get too interested, if I were you," Metatron said dryly. "She's not your type."
"I don't know about that," I said. There was something unnatural about the way she moved, something that drew the attention of the men in the room beyond what a regular naked woman did. Dollar bills were appearing with frightening speed. I was betting that she was my target.
"Don't say I didn't warn you," he shot back.
I ignored him. I kept my eyes on her, which meant I saw the whole show. She was quite a lovely demon, all said. She stripped to a thong, then walked toward the exit. I stood and ran toward the back, pushing my way past a surprised bouncer.
"Hey!" he shouted, but I was already by him. Serendipity was pulling on a satiny robe. She looked up as I pulled my gun.
"Oh, this is just swell," she said, lisping a little. "Raymond! What is this guy doing back here?"
She didn't seem frightened, not like a human would be.
"Want to explain a few things for me?" I managed to pull my badge and flash it left-handed at Raymond behind me. "Like the demolition of a certain club last year? Ring any bells?"
"I think someone has rung your bell," she said. "What are you doing, barging into my dressing room like the charge of the light brigade? Aren't there laws about these things?"
She had the feisty Latin temper to match her coloring. I pocketed my badge and got a better grip on my gun.
"Let's change the subject. How long were you downstairs? Less than a hundred?"
"Downstairs?" she asked, looking bewildered. She was good. "This place has a downstairs? What are you talking about?"
"Hell, lady. I'm here to send you back home."
Serendipity looked shocked. They usually do.
"Hell? I was never in Hell. I fought on Her side. I was given my freedom to walk the earth as I please. What is up with you?"
"Excuse me?" That wasn't the response I was expecting.
"I said, who are you and what do you think you are doing threatening me?"
I let the gun dip toward the floor, though I stayed alert for an attack. It wouldn't be the first time one of the souls tried to play innocent.
"Zeke Stone. Who are you?"
"Serendipity, just like the announcer said. I'm a muse."
I blinked in confusion, then shook it off. "Amused?"
"No, idiot," she spat. "A muse. Part of the creative process, you know?"
That was just too much. I holstered my gun, rubbed my eyes, and turned back toward the bar. If she was going to gouge my eyes out, she could do it while I had a beer.
"Now where are you going? You owe me an apology," she yelled.
I settled back onto my seat by Metatron. The bartender gave me a dirty look, but served up a draft anyway.
"I told you she wasn't your type," he gloated.
"You could have been a little bit more forthcoming about that," I said. My head was starting to hurt, which should have been impossible. I hoped muses didn't carry some kind of Hell-flu like Typhoid Mary had.
"You struck me as the type who likes to do it his own way," Metatron drawled. I ignored him.
"Ah, Ezekiel. Such a mess you make of things sometimes." Satan appeared on my other side, cigar in hand. I should have known this day would not be complete until he put in his two cents.
"Your presence is not welcome here," Metatron said coldly.
That got my attention.
"Why if it isn't the great blow-hard himself," Satan said. He sounded as delighted as I've ever heard him. "Tell me, have you been enjoying your promotion to chief ass-kisser since I left? You were so good at it when it was my cheeks you were sniffing."
Metatron glowered, but he didn't back down.
"Your hound and I were just discussing the abysmal depths of your incompetence," he shot back. "Truly, Lucifer. I know a couple of bumbling prophets who could do a better job."
Satan never lost his Devil-may-care smile, but there was a fire in his eyes that told me Metatron had hit the mark. Never let it be said that he doesn't take pride in his work. I was fully expecting him to blame me for the failure to roundup the prisoners, so I was surprised when he changed the subject.
"As much as I enjoy trading barbs with idiots, I am on a tight schedule. So if you will excuse me, I'd like to speak with my employee."
Metatron smiled; it wasn't pretty. "Please, don't let me stop you."
They stared at each other for a full minute, neither giving ground. I rolled my eyes and stood up. Knowing full well they could spend the actual eternity in a staring contest, I decided it was up to me to break the impasse.
"Come on," I said, pulling at the sleeve of his pin-striped jacket. "We can talk in the john."
He shot me a dirty look, but then smiled a predatory smile. "Why Ezekiel, how kinky. And here I thought you had no imagination."
I let it slide off my back as I marched toward the men's room. I'd heard worse. If all I had to put up with was insult and innuendo, I counted it as a blessed day.
The room was filthy. I pulled up a corner of the cleanest sink and leaned against it. "So what is it you have to tell me?"
"Ah, Ezekiel, ever the impatient one. No hello, how are you doing?"
"I think we skipped over that phase of our relationship when you ordered up the torture and torment. Now did you have a clue for me, or are you just here to pant after the Voice of God?"
He looked at me with heavy-lidded eyes, making me think of a cobra ready to strike. He leaned in close. I didn't give any ground, so his hair brushed against my cheek as he breathed into my ear.
"Metatron was never to my taste, and I would leave that subject alone if you know what is good for you, Ezekiel." He pulled back and grinned. "But since you never do what is best for yourself, I'll look forward to the day when I teach you that lesson."
He slapped my shoulder with just enough force to make it sting, a friendly gesture. "Now, let's mop up your mess. You were grievously mistaken when you attempted to kill the muse, but I don't think your time has been entirely wasted. A little birdie told me a demon slithered through these parts not so long ago."
I stood up straight at that. He could only mean one soul. "Ash? She's here?"
His eyes hardened, little pinpricks of coal that reminded me that it was personal for him as well. "Not too far. Perhaps the muse may be of assistance. I've heard Ashur has become wary of the company of men."
"So that's it? I know you want her as bad as I do. Give me a better clue!"
But Satan just smiled, though it looked a little sad, and faded away.
"Bastard," I called. The guy that came through the door at that point gave me a dirty look, so I turned around and washed non-existent germs off my hands. Once the man entered a stall I left the room.
I considered where to start. If the muse was supposed to help, then an apology was probably in order.
######
"So let me get this straight," Serendipity said. "You burst in on my act, accuse me of being a demon, walk away without so much as an apology, and then expect me to help you out? Some cajones you have."
I rubbed my eyes, really wishing that aspirin worked on demon-kind. I took another swig of my beer before I tried to reason with her.
"Look. I'm apologizing now. I was trying to do my job. I'm sorry I had a case of mistaken identity. But it's for the greater good. Surely you want to help the greater good?"
She scoffed. "Like I haven't heard that one before, straight from Lucifer himself. I don't want to have anything to do with El Diablo or his kind."
She sat back on her couch, the robe gaping just a little above her breasts. Serendipity smirked as she noticed me noticing. So much for the disinterested cop routine. Maybe a little charm would ease the way.
"So, what is a muse doing in a strip club? I would have thought that a job like this would be on his side of things."
Serendipity rolled her eyes. "No wonder you ended up down below. God doesn't think sex is evil. Why would She have created it if it was bad?"
I blinked at the She reference, but decided it was unimportant. "Why did God create sin then?"
"Clueless," she said, looking skywards with her hands spread in supplication. "They're all clueless. Hello, free will? Sin is a side effect of man's ability to choose." She gave me a scathing look. "Obviously you chose poorly."
I didn't rise to that one. Any other day I might be interested in theological debate, but time was wasting while Ash was doing God and the Devil knew what.
"So back to my original question," I said. "What are you doing here, in a more general sense?"
"Oh," she said, friendly for once. "I'm on vacation. There was a little trouble a while back that I helped God with, and She let me back into heaven without having to work." She leaned forward to whisper. "Between the two of us, I got a little bored. So I decided to visit earth again, see if I still have the touch."
"Let you back into heaven?"
She sat back. "Leave the damned to pick up on the little things. It wasn't like I was exiled," she assured me. "Not like Bartleby and Loki. More like having a little contract negotiation."
"Right." I felt more confused than ever, but I felt like I was making progress. She was at least speaking to me, even if she acted like I was an imbecile. Imbecile, I could work with. "So you haven't noticed anything else strange in town?"
"Else? You mean beside yourself?" I nodded, though I had meant Serendipity's own presence. "Not really. Metatron has been showing up for the shows lately, but everyone knows he's a perv. It's a good thing he can't get it up, or God would never have a Voice. Men," she said in disgust.
"I thought you said there was nothing wrong with sex?"
"There's not. Men are obsessed, that's all. Wait." She tapped a long fingernail against her lip. "There was something that I noticed. What was it?"
I kept quiet. Her brows drew together as she pouted in thought.
"That's right! There's a new women's only group setting up downtown. Now normally I'm all for female solidarity, but something about this one gave me the willies." She shivered elegantly. "All those snakes. Creepy."
Bingo. It sounded like Ash's standard calling card. Now I just needed to make sure I didn't have another case of mistaken identity.
"I don't suppose you would be interested in going to one of their meetings," I said. "Just to check things out."
She narrowed her eyes at me. I tried to look as innocent as possible. It always used to work on Ros, believe it or not.
"Madre de dios," she said. Loudly. She flung her hands up again. "Guide my immortal soul, but spare me from his begging eyes!"
I smiled. I guessed I still had it.
######
"Ready?" I asked, eyeing the darkened church in front of me.
"Sure," Serendipity said. "This should be a piece of cake after the last adventure I had."
I hoped she was right, but very rarely did things go as smoothly as I hoped. Especially when Ash was in the picture. Serendipity hadn't been able to determine if it was Ashur Badaktu running the shop when she went in this afternoon, but she had been able to wrangle an invitation to this gathering from the helpful clerk. The plan was for the muse to go in as a spy while I watched for any sign of Ash.
The side door was unlocked, so I made my way through the darkened nave to the balcony stairs. Serendipity wait outside for the rest of the group to show. I was pretty sure that she would be okay, unless she walked up to Ash and announced our plans.
I had just settled in against the railing, hidden by the shadows, when women's voices echoed through the vault of the church. The group had arrived; hopefully my quarry was among them.
"Are you sure this is okay, Tasha? I don't know about breaking into a church," one woman said.
"If you don't want to be a part of the group then leave now, Cheryl," a second woman said. I knew that voice. Apparently Ash wasn't bothering to disguise herself too carefully in this small town. I readjusted my grip on my gun, ready to use it when I got the first opportunity.
"What is it that we're doing?" That was Serendipity. I winced, wishing that she would keep quiet.
"Who are you again?" Ash immediately asked. "You seem familiar, but I know I didn't ask you here."
Uh-oh.
"I'm Sarah," the muse said. "Jamie invited me this afternoon. She said it would be a chance to bond with other women."
I held my breath (which is remarkably easy to do when you don't actually have to breathe), hoping that Ash would let it pass. I was done underestimating her intelligence. That sharp insight had dogged me since the day I met her.
"Fine," she said, and I sighed quietly. "You'll get your bonding, don't worry about that. Just stand to the side and don't do anything until I tell you to."
I chanced peeking over the edge of the balcony then. There was a group of eight women clustered in the middle aisle. I didn't spot the Ash I knew. It was possible that either her back was to me or she had disguised her face. Just my luck.
The women started walking toward the altar, climbing the steps to the sanctuary and then surrounding the cloth-draped stone. Several carried backpacks. I could hear them talking, but the low voices were distorted by the echoing space, and I couldn't make out what anyone said. Some began putting candles on various surfaces. Another stripped the white cloth off of the altar, carefully folding it before she set it aside. I was guessing that one wasn't Ash.
Then the woman next to Serendipity turned. Ash's thin face was ghost-pale in the candlelight. Her hair was longer than what she wore as a cop, and I thought it might be red. She was even more beautiful than I remembered.
I raised my gun, leveled the sights, and eased my finger over the trigger. I was a hair away from squeezing it when Ash turned again. Damn.
I waited, hoping for another easy shot. Unfortunately, her attention was focused on whatever she was setting up, so her back stayed to me. I noticed Serendipity mostly moving about looking helpful while accomplishing nothing. Good for her.
I was trying to overcome my squeamishness at shooting her in the back of the head when I noticed five of the women had formed a rough pentagram around the alter, candles in hand. I had a bad feeling about Ash's plans.
"No! I won't be part of this," Serendipity shouted.
That should have been my cue, but as I lined up Ash walked between the women toward Serendipity. There were too many civilians; I couldn't get a clean shot from up here. I debated half a second. I shut out Serendipity's startled cry and dashed to the stairs.
When I emerged at the bottom, I could only see six forms standing. Then I spotted Ash crouched over a body on the steps leading up to the altar.
"Leave her alone," I shouted. The time for cloak and dagger was over.
She looked up and grinned. I shot.
Ash leapt up and backwards, flipping over the altar as the bullet ricocheted off its surface.
"Shit!"
"Language, Ezekiel," Ash purred from the front of the church. "This is a house of God, after all."
I couldn't see her at all, just the women who seemed frozen like statues. I crouched down and started creeping along the edges of the pews. It was a skill I had acquired in my current job.
"Since when does that matter to you," I shouted, hoping to draw her out. She never could resist gloating banter.
"It doesn't," she spat back. "And after tonight, it won't matter to anyone else."
That didn't sound good. I peered around the frontmost pew. Serendipity was still crumpled at the base of the raised stage, but she was not my priority. I stepped forward, wary of Ash's tricks.
"So what does that mean?" I asked.
She laughed, a low chuckle that sent chills up my spine. It reminded me of him.
"Oh, Ezekiel, how little you know. Your God is but a petty ruler, bent on his supremacy at the cost of all the other gods. After tonight they shall be returned to their righteous place. All thanks to me."
"They must not be very powerful, if you have to take care of them then," I said as I stood and aimed.
Ash was seated in the priest's chair, her face hidden behind the woman she held in her lap. A knife was at the woman's throat. Snakes curled around her feet and the legs of the chair.
"Did you think it would be so easy, Zeke? You're too late," she said, and I could hear joy in her voice. "Just a few more words from my priestesses, and Pandora's box will open. All of his treachery will be erased."
I started to circle to the side, but Ash drew the knife closer to the girl's neck. A drop of blood welled up. It dripped to the floor, transforming into a small snake.
"Let me get this right," I scoffed. "You're going to defeat the Almighty by opening a box?"
"Didn't I already mention how little you know? Perhaps I should enlighten you. You'll benefit from the end of his rule as well. No more dominion over Lucifer, no reason for hell."
"It will be chaos," I said.
"Perhaps," she replied. "But not for long. No, first we'll have to go through a bit of discomfort, that's true. But then the natural pantheon will reassert itself. It's quite simple, really. Your god is rather terrible at micro-managing details. He tends to leave loopholes, especially when it comes to the church on earth. I'm just going to exploit one of them."
"Right." I was starting to think she had gone completely off the deep end, and that maybe it would be safer to let her go ahead with her craziness rather than endanger the hostage. I could shoot her after everyone was clear. "Like a big lawyer in the sky."
"More like an incompetent and hypocritical judge," she said. "Didn't you hear the story of Bartelby and Loki?"
"What?"
"He didn't tell you that, did he? It's remarkable how poor Lucifer's attention to detail has been lately. Perhaps he's spending too much time with you."
I would have readily agreed with that last part, but she made it sound rather dirty.
"Who are Bartelby and Loki?" I asked. It didn't look like I was going to diffuse the situation quickly, so I was hoping to at least diffuse it in my favor.
"Were. Bartelby and Loki were angels who angered God. So he banished them to earth, never to return to heaven. And your God is so wrapped up in his own infallibility that to admit to a mistake would mean the end of his rule. So when it looked like he was going to be forced to do just that, he destroyed them. And this is the god that preaches repentance and forgiveness."
I still didn't think she was making any sense, but I was tired of talking while the innocent were in peril. I started to circle to the side, watching the knife in Ash's hands carefully. I froze as she barked something in a language I didn't understand. The women started chanting. That's when I noticed the box on the altar.
It wasn't very impressive, just a small rectangular box, wooden from what I could tell. But it was glowing. That wasn't a good sign. I might have to sacrifice the hostage.
"Getting nervous, Ezekiel?" Ash taunted. "You shouldn't be. This will be a good thing, and then we can be exalted together."
A breeze rushed across the dome, snuffing out most of the candles.
"You shall not do this!"
The booming voice echoed through the space, nearly loud enough to deafen me. I couldn't see a source. It wasn't until I noticed air rushed downwards over my face that I looked up.
A figure was hovering over the altar, huge white wings holding him aloft.
"You can't stop me," Ash hissed.
I took a shot. The bullet clipped her shoulder, causing her to drop the knife.
"No!" She shoved the woman from her lap and leapt straight upwards, her hands reaching for the angel's face. I fired, not trying for her eyes. She tumbled to the ground on the other side of the altar. I race around.
"Take that, bitch," Serendipity hissed as she brought her hand down to stab at Ash's face. Light streamed out of one eye. Ash kicked out. Serendipity flew across the room and crashed into one of the pews. I fired.
Blue light shrieked out of her form, coursing around the church with unholy shadows as Ash's soul was sucked back to Hell. Pain seared across my chest, but it was a satisfying pain. That was a tattoo that had ridden my body far too long.
The angel landed beside Serendipity and pulled his wings in. The women around the altar were starting to stir in confusion now that Ash no longer had them under her spell. I walked over to see whether Serendipity was all right.
"Oh, my head," she moaned.
"You'll be fine," the angel said. I finally recognized him as Metatron.
I left them for the moment to direct the women out of the church. A few well placed lies had them believing that the cops were unhappy with breaking and entering, but if they left quietly, no charges would be pressed. My badge was the second most useful thing I had returned with--after my gun, of course.
"Thanks for the help," I said to Serendipity and Metatron after we were alone.
Serendipity held up a ball-point pen. "The pen is mightier than the sword, you know."
Metatron rolled his eyes. "That's terrible. Stick with being inspiration. It suits you much better."
Serendipity pouted, but I was more interested in what had happened with Ash.
"I'm surprised you got involved. Is what she said true then? That box up there could be the end of heaven and hell?"
Metatron raised an eyebrow, then walked up to the altar.
"This?" he asked, running a finger along the edge of the box. He flipped it open. "This is nothing. I just thought you could use a hand since I was in the neighborhood." He smiled at me. "Now I need to get back to His side. Coming, muse? Or are you still on vacation?"
She laid a hand on my arm as she turned toward him. "I'm coming. Don't get your panties in a twist."
I could see the sour look on his face from twenty feet away. Serendipity brushed a kiss across my cheek.
"Keep hoping," she whispered in my ear. "You're on the right path."
She circled around the altar, moving a little stiffly. Metatron opened the door to the sacristy. Brilliant light poured through it, and then they both stepped through and disappeared.
I sank down on the pew behind me. This had been one of the strangest hunts so far, which was saying a lot. I felt rather numb. I was relieved that Ash was gone, but it also felt a little wrong. Like maybe I was missing some of the evidence in her case. She had been a powerful woman at one time, but she was bent by resentment and more years in Hell than I could fathom.
"Come now, Ezekiel, you can't think that she didn't deserve it. She slaughtered her own daughter, after all."
I shrugged, not in the mood to argue with him about doomed souls. I always came out on the losing side.
"Surely you don't believe what she said about God. He is all-powerful, you know. I learned that lesson the hard way."
I looked at him then. He seemed serious, much like he had the first time Ash had revealed herself.
"I don't know what to believe anymore," I told him.
We sat in silence for a few minutes. I glanced over to make sure he was still there.
"Are you happy that she's back? She was the ringleader, after all."
"I suppose," he said. "I have her in the most secure area now, guarded by my most fearsome lieutenant. She won't escape again."
"I heard a but in there."
He laughed. "You seem to think you know me. That will never happen, Ezekiel. But I will give you this much. Sometimes, I wonder what would happen if she were right."
With that he was gone. A piece of paper fluttered to the floor like a feather from a bird. I picked it up and unfolded it. It was an ad flyer.
Jay and Silent Bob, prophets of Her Almighty Kick-assedness, provide wisdom and guidance for a minimal fee.
It looked like I had another clue to follow. I wondered what kind of cosmic joke I'd end up in next.