Blood on the Bar Page 6

  “Sort things out like gentlemen? I am the wretch whose soul you damned for all eternity. I am the patriot you made a monster. And I am the righteous steel that shall shed your life’s blood, Satan.”

  The venom in Julian’s words stunned Lucas into silence. It possessed the kind of hatred cultivated over a great length of time and with unwavering focus. He was so taken aback by the ferocity that he was slow to react when Julian produced a hooked dagger and plunged it into Jake’s intestines. The lad’s screams lasted mere seconds before his guts pulled out onto the floor and blood gushed down his inverted body and soaked his face and chest.

  Julian turned back to Lucas and sneered. “I damn you, Satan. As you once damned me.”

  Lucas leapt for the man again, but Julian blinked away—not in a cloud of smoke or a burst of raindrops, but a simple cessation of existence. Lucas found himself clutching at air.

  What nightmare is this?

  Jake was bleeding out fast, eyes wide and disbelieving, guts piling on the floor. Lucas could do little for him now, save from cutting him down from the cross and letting him die on his back.

  With no way of doing things gently, Lucas yanked the iron nails fastening the lad’s hands and feet and let Jake crumple to the ground. More reeking intestines unspooled and Lucas winced in sympathy. A terrible way to go—even for a thug like Jake.

  From on his back, the lad gasped for air, but his insides had slipped out, and he could do nothing but grow blue in the face. Despite despising the lad, Lucas put a hand against his cheek and tried to ease his passing.

  Jake couldn’t speak, but he edged a trembling hand towards his hip. Lucas told him not to move, that it would only take longer, but the lad didn’t listen. He kept on reaching, sliding his hand into the pocket of his jeans. After several clumsy attempts, he plucked out a wallet, but immediately fumbled it.

  Lucas caught the wallet and raised it. “You want something inside? I’ll get it for you.”

  Jake nodded, the fear fading from his eyes. Not long now.

  Lucas searched the wallet, ignoring bank cards and gym memberships, assuming the lad wanted something else. But what? What was he meant to be looking for?

  Jake’s bloody hand jerked, and he smeared a bloody fingerprint against the wallet’s upper edge. Realising what the lad was indicating, Lucas nodded and thumbed open the hidden fold. Inside, he found a single item—a small passport photograph of a young girl, fair-haired and innocent. A sweet child. She resembled Jake.

  Jake pawed at Lucas again, prompting him to shove the photo into his palm. Jake lifted the photograph in front of his face so he could see it, and a smile shoved away his grimace. How could people be so monstrous and so human at the same time? It was a puzzle that had perplexed Lucas for thousands of years.

  He glared up at the ceiling and cursed. Father could do nothing to help Jake, or anyone else in need, but when did this madness end? When would He finally come out of hiding and do something to roll back the chaos? Mankind was on the brink, so surely now was the time to act. Time to take a risk.

  Come out, Father. Please.

  Damn you, come out!

  Lucas slumped forwards, tears sliding down his cheeks. He placed both hands on Jake’s chest and waited for the lad to die. May his sins be forgiven.

  “It doesn’t hurt anymore,” Jake muttered, eyes gazing up at the ceiling.

  “Think about your daughter, Jake,” said Lucas softly. “You’ll be watching over her soon.” A lie.

  Jake didn’t seem to hear him. “I’m okay. I’m okay.”

  “What?” Lucas removed his hands from Jake’s chest and shuffled back on his knees, barely believing what he saw. It couldn’t be. Couldn’t be.

  “It’s a miracle,” said Jake, patting at his torso. Blood soaked his torn t-shirt, but the flesh underneath was healthy and pink. His wrists and ankles were no longer pierced. His intestines were back in place. Even the battle-scar on his shaven head was gone.

  A miracle.

  Lucas lifted his hands and stared at his palms. Blood wept from wide gashes stretching from his thumbs to his pinkie fingers, but before his eyes, the wounds closed up and disappeared. He had laid hands upon Jake and healed him. Drawn away his wounds.

  Jake sat up gingerly, the stupidest of grins on his face. “You saved my life, man!”

  “Y-You’re welcome,” said Lucas, trying to smile, but instead, he passed out on the floor.

  Max hurried to help Lucas as he stumbled out from behind the bar. While he and Jake were both unsteady, Jake was more giddy than weak and could walk on his own. Lucas, however, could barely place one foot in front of the other.

  Max took his arm and guided him towards the sofa. “What happened?”

  “I’m fine. Just... help me over to Vetta.” As delicate as he was, Lucas didn’t want to be fussed over, but he needed to see Vetta right now. Annie was still supervising her, checking for a response, and Shirley was rubbing her arms to pass on some heat.

  “How is she?” Lucas demanded, shoving Max away and staggering over to the sofa.

  “She's not doing good,” said Annie. “Where’s that damned ambulance?”

  “It’s not coming,” he said.

  Anna frowned, but Lucas moved passed her and got down beside Vetta. She was barely breathing now. Gladri’s presence—or had it really been Julian’s?—had obliterated her. She was slipping away fast, and no one in the world could prevent it.

  Except, perhaps, for him. He had healed Jake from certain death. Maybe he could heal Vetta too. He placed his hands on her, one against her forehead and one against her chest. Her skin was icy cold, blood like snow in her veins. The guilt over what he had done increased, but he used it to focus his concentration, trying to mimic what he had done with Jake.

  Healing that shithead had been an accident, but it had woken something inside of him. He might be human, but it appeared he was not completely without power. Something flowed inside of him, and when he healed Jake, he had grasped hold of that power momentarily. Now he needed to grab it again. With both hands.

  Annie unfolded her arms and folded them again, just so she could make a display of huffing. “We need to get her some proper help,” she complained. “I think she’s hypothermic. If we don’t get her to a hospital soon…”

  Lucas gritted his teeth, sweat beading on his brow as he concentrated. All he felt was the iciness of Vetta’s skin.

  Where was that power he had latched onto earlier? Why wasn't she getting better? Why was nothing happening?

  She is not going to die. I will not let her die. Damn it!

  “Come on, man,” said Max, putting a hand on Lucas’s shoulder. “I know you blame yourself for this, but you need to listen to my sister. She needs proper help.”

  “Shut up!”

  “Hey, man. You need to chill out.”

  Jake inserted himself and shoved Max away. “He can heal people, man. I was all torn up to shit, and he put me back together just by touching me. Julian is a serial killer or something—a total nutcase. We need to get the police down here.”

  “And that bloody ambulance,” said Annie, hands moving down to her hips. “This girl needs help right now!”

  “I’ll call for one,” said Shirley, fishing a clunky phone from the depths of her handbag. Used tissues and a roll of Polo mints fell out in her wake.

  Lucas leapt up and hissed at them. “Everybody be quiet! Damn it, why isn’t it working? How did I do it before?”

  Annie gawked at him. “You really thought you could fix her just by touching her? Are you mad?”

  Lucas turned his glare at Jake, making the lad wither slightly. “Why did it work on you and not her? She should be the one healed, not you.”

  “Hey,” said Jake, although he gave no further reply.

  Annie turned to her brother, fuming. “Max, what the hell did you drag me into? These people are insane.”

  “You want to know what’s insane?” asked Lucas, exposing his teeth like an anima
l—an unprompted gesture that came without command. “You want the truth? Okay, fine, how about you’re standing before one of the most ancient beings in all existence? One of the most powerful creatures in all of human history and beyond.”

  “He’s lost the plot,” said Simon. He was leaning on the bar and rubbing at his beard.

  “I have not lost the plot,” Lucas shouted over. “I have lost everything else, but not that. I used to go by the name Lucifer, King of Hell, and before that I was one of The Three. Now I'm a pathetic human being like the rest of you. Yet, even despite that, I laid hands on this lowlife earlier and pulled him back from death.” He pointed accusingly at Jake, but then let his arm drop and sighed. “Looks like it was a one off.”

  “L-Lucas?”

  He whirled around and dropped to his knees. Beside the sofa, he gasped. “Vetta, you’re okay?”

  She looked anything but okay, yet she was awake at least. Lying on the sofa, her skin was almost blue. Her lips appeared gritty and dry. “I… I don’t know what happened,” she whispered. “I feel cold.”

  “I’m so sorry, Vetta. I’m so sorry.” He winced as he realised it was probably the first apology he’d ever given a human being. He got up from his knees and turned to the others so he could tell them that Julian was not what he seemed. Jake backed him up for most of it, but at the end, Annie gave a derisory laugh, and marched over to the pub’s front porch. She attempted several times to open the door but ended up kicking it in frustration just like Lucas had earlier, followed by both Shaun and Simon.

  “No one is getting out of here,” Lucas told them all. “The pub is sealed. Julian has unfinished business with me and he’s not about to let me walk away. I’ll try to deal with him alone if I can, but the rest of you should stay put and be careful.”

  Jake was unravelling the bandage from around his hand—perhaps that was healed too now—but he paused to raise an eyebrow at Lucas. “You really don’t know what Julian wants? He seemed pretty pissed off at you.”

  Lucas scratched at his head, trying to pull something loose. “There's something about him I recall, but every time I try to snatch at the memory, it floats away like a crumb in the ocean. Last night, I shook his hand, and I got a... some kind of flashback. I saw fire and burning. I had a dream about the same thing this morning before I woke up.”

  “This is all just a game,” said Annie, tapping her foot and glowering over by the porch. “Stop listening to his bullshit.”

  Max was staring at Jake with a slightly slack-jawed expression. “Y-Your scar,” he muttered. “It’s gone!”

  Jake touched his forehead, then shrugged. “Told you he fixed me.”

  Vetta sat up and tried to get to her feet. She succeeded, although she did so stiffly and in obvious pain. Unlike Jake, she was not seemingly better than new. Lucas took her arm, and she allowed him to steady her.

  “I see angel last night,” she said huskily. “You should believe things Lucas tells you. He is magic.”

  Lucas cringed. “Let’s not bandy the M word around, shall we? And I’m not what I was when you first met me. I don’t want you getting hurt again, Vetta. What happened to you was my fault. I thought… I thought I was summoning Gladri, but I think it was Julian who came. He was nearby, so the spell latched on to him instead. It makes no sense because he seemed human, and the spell can only snare a creature from Heaven or Hell.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” said Annie.

  “He’s saying that what happened to Vetta was his fault.” Shirley was clutching her handbag and frowning. “Because he used her body for a spell or some such nonsense.”

  Vetta stared at Lucas. “Is… Is this true?”

  Lucas nodded. “Yes.”

  Vetta stumbled, aghast. Lucas couldn’t bear looking at her while she processed what he had just told her, so he turned away to face the others.

  “I am a wicked creature, no point denying it. People used to call me The Devil, The Defiler, The Morning Star, Satan, and a hundred other things, none of them good. Humanity fled from me in terror for thousands of years, and evil men made unholy bargains with me that changed the course of history. My advice to you all is to stay out of my way and let me deal with this situation. Understood?”

  While Jake and Vetta might have believed his words, he could tell the others didn’t. They thought he was mad, but that didn’t matter. Mad or evil, they just needed to fear him enough to keep out of his way. He would deal with this mess.

  But first, he needed a pint. He couldn’t face this mess sober.

  Happy Hour

  Simon folded his meaty arms as he spoke, looking more like a doorman than a mechanic. “We’re supposed to believe you’re The Devil, are we? Come on, mate, don’t treat us like mugs.”

  Shaun agreed, running his fingers through his slick black-grey hair and looking a little panicky. “I swear, I’m not usually a grass, but I’m going straight to the Old Bill as soon as I get out of here. Trapping us in here is kidnap, and I’m starting to have an anxiety attack. My heart is going a mile a minute.”

  Simon put a thick arm around his friend and gave him a reassuring squeeze.

  “Believe what you want,” said Lucas, supping the pint he’d just pulled himself.

  Annie actually growled, making a sound not dissimilar from a cornered mastiff. “What have you dragged us into, you moron?”

  “If you all leave me to bloody well think, I might come up with an answer,” was his only reply.

  “Just give him a break,” protested Jake.

  Simon slapped his large hands flat on the bar, making everybody flinch. “What happened to you back there? You went in hating this guy, and you came out singing his praises. When me and Shaun went searching for you, we found nothing but a dingy office and a storeroom. Where the hell did the two of you get to? What am I missing here?”

  “Maybe there’s a secret room,” said Shaun, chest heaving in and out. Maybe the guy actually was having an anxiety attack.

  “It was a magic hallway,” said Jake seriously.

  “Are you bloody serious?” said Max. “What prank are you two playing? How did you cover up your scar, Jake? Something is fishy here, and I don’t like fish.”

  “He healed me,” said Jake, tapping at his head. “I’ve had that scar since I fell off my bike as a kid. Now, it’s as though it was never there!”

  “It’s make-up,” protested Max.

  “No, it’s not. Come have a feel.”

  Lucas ignored them all, their words becoming white noise. He had meant it when he’d said he intended to deal with things on his own. They just needed to shut up and let him think.

  His eyes went to Vetta, sitting in the corner on her own, and it reminded him of how toxic his influence was. The last thing he wanted was to drag anyone deeper into this situation than they already were. The problem was that his feeble mind wouldn’t provide him with any understanding of this bizarre situation. Supping a pint was usually how he did his best thinking, yet Julian’s identity remained a mystery no matter how many times he stared into his glass. He was pretty sure the man was human, yet he had been imbued with great power. Was Julian a master or a servant?

  Why can’t I remember him? What did I do?

  An electronic scream made everyone in the bar jolt. Their attention switched to Max who had moved over to the pool table. He looked embarrassed and held his mobile phone in the air for them all to see. “Thought I’d try calling for help again,” he explained, “but my phone is a bit floopy.”

  “I don’t have any signal on mine,” said Annie grumpily.

  “Me either,” echoed Shirley, holding up that clunky plastic handset big enough to swat an eagle.

  “You won’t get a signal,” Lucas muttered without looking their way. “You’ve been removed from the network, trust me.”

  “Okay,” said Simon, smashing both hands against the bar again. This time he dropped off his stool and marched towards Lucas. “I’ve had enough of this shite. S
tart giving straight answers, or I’m going to kick the crap out of you.”

  Jake yelled from the pool table where he was bouncing the cue ball around off the cushions. “He’s tougher than he looks, Si. Be careful.”

  Simon sneered over at him. “What pills did this guy make you swallow back there to make you start defending him? Didn’t you get into a ruck with him last night? What changed.”

  Jake shrugged. “Water under the bridge, innit?”

  “I suggest you listen to the lad,” said Lucas, slipping off his own stool to face the larger man. “Be very careful about what you decide to do next.”

  Simon didn’t heed the threat. He grabbed Lucas by the lapels and yanked him forwards. “Get this place unlocked right now, mate, or you and me are going to have problems.”

  “What are you going to do?” Lucas asked wearily, not yet bothering to fight himself free of the man’s powerful grasp. “Not like we can take it outside, is it? Besides, I’m not the one who sealed this place. So back off!” He whipped his right arm around Simon’s left and used his free hand to palm-strike the man in the centre of his chest. It sent him backwards, slightly winded, but didn’t do enough to deter him.

  This time, instead of trying to grab Lucas, Simon swept his legs with a vicious kick. Lucas thudded to the ground hard, smacking the back of his skull against the floorboards. The blow sent his vision spinning and he struggled to get back up. Simon loomed over him like a viking, boulder-fists raised and ready to unleash Odin’s fury. Max and Shaun appeared just in time to keep the big man from delivering a full-on beat down.

  “Let me at him,” Simon bellowed. “I want to know what the hell is going on!”

  “Easy,” said Shaun. “He’s not worth doing time over.”

  Vetta moved towards the bar. Her expression had darkened, like a change had occurred in her. “What is happening is that we are innocent victims caught in middle of Lucas’s bullshit. He is being punished.”