Green-Eyed Demon

“You know who he is?” Adam asked.



Erron took another sip and nodded.



Recalling my dream with the beautiful male with the bright red hair and the werewolf with the shotgun, I said, “He’s a vampire, right?”



“No,” the recreant said. “Not exactly.”



Adam crossed his arms. Obviously the mancy was as tired of the run around as me. “Are you going to tell us or not?”



“Master Mahan isn’t a vampire.” Erron leaned forward like a man about to divulge a bombshell. “But he is the father of all vampires.”



My mouth fell open. I turned slowly to look at Adam. He spoke first. “Are you telling us that the leader of the Caste of Nod is Cain? As in Mark of Cain, Cain and Abel, Lilith’s lover Cain, Cain?”



I started laughing before I could help myself. How gullible did this dude think we were?



Erron nodded, his expression serious. “Yes. And I could tell you all sorts of stories about him. But the only thing you need to know right now is that you cannot and will not beat him. So you either need to figure out a way to make sure the Caste doesn’t summon him to New Orleans or you get the hell out of town.”



“And you better stick to songwriting, mage, because fiction isn’t your forte,” I said. “Of anyone in the history of the dark races who I’d believe as the leader of the Caste of Nod, Cain would be the last.”



“Why do you say that?”



“Because Lilith dumped his ass for a chance to marry Asmodeus and become the Queen of Irkalla. Why would Cain start a secret group who worships Lilith so much they want to bring about her second coming?”



Erron slammed his bottle on the table. “You’re assuming the rumors you’ve heard about the prophecies are true. You’re also assuming that Cain has told the truth to his followers about why he wants Lilith to return. Sabina, Cain was the first murderer in history. Do you really think he’s trustworthy?”



“If he is the leader of the Caste, then why do so many dark-race members trust him?” Adam said. “Surely someone else would have asked those same questions by now.”



Erron shrugged. “Charismatic cult leaders have convinced otherwise intelligent beings into all sorts of irrational action throughout history.”



Adam ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, I think we need to back up. How do you know all of this in the first place?”



Erron leaned back in his chair. “I told you before that the Caste tried to recruit me?” We nodded. “Recruit might have been an understatement. Stalked me was more like it. The harassment went on for a while and I kept resisting. They escalated by beating Ziggy within an inch of his life. He recovered eventually, slowly, but his hearing never returned. And when that didn’t convince me, the Caste killed the rest of the band.”



Adam gasped. “Oh, my gods. The plane crash. That’s what really happened?” Erron’s face remained impassive, but he didn’t argue. I frowned at them until Adam explained. “It was big news when it happened. The plane got caught in a storm and went down over the Atlantic.”



“They were meeting me in Europe to start a tour. Ziggy was still in the hospital, and I’d gone ahead to spend some quality time with a Parisian model. The thing the news didn’t report was that the entire band was made up of mages back then. No way that plane would go down with their magical abilities to save them. Something else happened.”



“You believe it was the Caste’s doing?”



“You have to understand, I was pretty fucked up after that,” he said, lighting a cigarette. “Even though Ziggy and I had gone recreant in our youth, I tried to ask the Hekate Council for help. Of course they denied me. Not surprising. I had already lost half my mind. The newspapers said it was ‘exhaustion,’ but I had a complete nervous breakdown. Anyway, long story short, once I got my mind back, I made it my mission to make the Caste pay for what it had done. Used every resource at my disposal.” He exhaled a long stream of gray smoke. “Eventually, I found a group in Europe that had been documenting the Caste’s supposed activities. With their help, I spent years trying to find out who their leader was.



“Eventually I found him— Cain. Back then his base of operations was a penthouse in Tokyo’s Roppongi district. As I stood over his bed with a gun to his temple, he calmly said he was impressed with my dedication. Said killing my band was regrettable, but it was my own fault for being so stubborn. That did it.” He paused, rubbing at his forehead. “I just snapped. Put a gun to his head and pulled the trigger.”



When he paused for another drag, I realized I hadn’t taken a breath since he began his story. I swallowed in some air and breathed, “What happened?”



“Nothing.” Erron laughed, the sound filled with acid. He lifted a finger to his forehead like a gun. “Apple-cider bullet to the brain and the fucker just laughed at me. After that, I was so scared I flashed the fuck out of there before he could retaliate or kidnap me or whatever.”



Erron took another long swig of vodka, as if the alcohol could cleanse away the lingering bitterness of the memories.



“I didn’t sleep for six months after that, worried he’d show up and kill me. But eventually I realized he was done with me. It took a couple more years to get my shit together enough for a comeback tour with a new allhuman band— except for Ziggy, of course.”



“So Cain is immortal,” Adam said.



“I don’t accept that,” I said. “Vampires are immortal, too, but we can still be killed. The forbidden fruit might not weaken him, but he wouldn’t get very far without his head.”



“But that’s the rub,” Erron said. “Have you read the legends about Cain?”



I scoffed. “My grandmother is the head of the vampire race. Of course I know the Cain legends.”



“Not the vampire legends, Sabina. The human ones. From the Bible.”



I laughed. “Of course not.”



“When God punished Cain, he marked him with red hair, a symbol of his immortality. But then God took it a step further and said that anyone who managed to kill Cain would be punished sevenfold.”



“What the hell does that mean?” I demanded. “You can’t die seven times.”



“No,” Erron said. “But you and six of the people you love most can be killed and your souls doomed to eternal punishment.”



I crossed my arms. “This is bullshit. We came to you for fact, not human fucking folklore.”



“Sabina,” Erron said, “Cain killed everyone I cared about because I turned down an invitation to his club. I don’t know what you’ve done to gain his interest, but you need to take this threat seriously. And if I were you, I’d spend less time doubting his power and more time trying to figure out how to stop the Caste from summoning him tomorrow.”



“Why would Lavinia and the Caste need to summon him?” Adam asked. Obviously the mancy bought Erron’s story— or was much better at humoring psychos than me.



Erron shrugged. “Beats me.” He tossed the cigarette into a half-empty beer bottle and rose. “Now your five minutes are up.”



At that moment Adam’s cell rang, bursting into the shocked silence like an alarm. Adam jerked to grab it, walking a few steps away to listen.



I jumped up to intercede Erron. “Just hold on a second.”



Adam flipped the phone shut. “Zen said they need us to come back.”



“Did they figure out where Maisie is?”



He shook his head. “She didn’t elaborate, but she sounded excited. We need to go. Now.”



With my adrenaline surging with hope, I turned to convince Erron to help us. “Listen, we need your hel—”



He cut me off. “No. Don’t waste your breath trying to convince me to join your cause. I’ve faced this foe before and got my ass kicked. It’s taken me too long to rebuild my life to throw it away again on a suicide mission.”



“That didn’t stop you the other night,” Adam said, his voice low and angry.



Erron looked at him. “A fist fight with a few Caste vamps is a schoolyard rumble compared to the massacre you’re courting if you don’t stop this summoning. Now, I wish you the best of luck, but I have a sound check to do.”



With that, Erron Zorn walked away.



“Fucking recreants,” Adam muttered. Then he flashed us out of the dressing room and back to Zen’s office.



24



Zen punched a couple of buttons and clicked the mouse until the picture of Maisie appeared on the large monitor. I took a deep breath and tried to focus on the periphery instead of at my sister’s ravaged body.



Rhea pointed to a sliver of stone in the upper corner of the shot. “At first we thought that might be nothing, but then we realized it’s the bottom of a stone wing.”



My eyes started to sting from squinting, but the shape was indeed vaguely wingish. I pulled back a bit to get a new perspective. “And there’s a foot, I think. A statue, maybe?”



“An angel,” Rhea said.



I looked at Zen. “Do you recognize it?”



She shook her head. “This is a Catholic city. Angel statues are everywhere.”



I made a frustrated sound, but Rhea said, “Wait for it.”



Zen zoomed again. Adam grabbed my hands and squeezed. I glanced at him in time for him to breathe, “Oh, my gods.”



My eyes jumped back to the screen. Beside me, Adam let out a curse that would make even Giguhl blush.



The writing said: Requiescat in pace.



“When we saw that, we realized that Sabina’s conversation with the zombie wasn’t totally wasted,” Zen said.



I frowned at her. “What are you talking about?”



“You told us Kevin said ‘cat piss.’ ” Rhea pointed to the plaque. “Requiescat in pace. And the other part, about the big box— maybe Stryx meant a tomb.”



Adam bumped my arm. “Oh, gods, Sabina. What was the other part Kevin said?”