Robert Dante held the razor sharp ceremonial blade an inch from his thumb and hesitated. He looked down at the two pieces of paper lying on the desk before him in the darkened back room of the Leather and Lace strip club, and he hesitated. The document on the left held very ornate, small script, as if a mouse with impeccable calligraphy had written it. The papers to the right looked more like a chat room transcript written in that same mouse-like font, only larger.
“I… I’m not sure,” Dante stammered. Words began to miraculously appear on the paper to his right.
Of course you have doubts. I understand. The words appeared on the paper as if by magic, but what Robert Dante could not see was the three foot naked creature with skin akin to grey stone and horns protruding from all his joints manipulating a pen. The demon was Rabdos the Strangler and he stood next to the man, albeit displaced in the spiritual ether slightly out of sync with the real world. The time for doubting is over, Robert. Action is required or you will be caught in the next ten minutes. The police dogs are almost here.
“What do I get out of this again?” Dante asked, eyes transfixed on the edge of the knife he held. “I am not afraid to sacrifice for my cause but it must be a worthwhile sacrifice.”
As you say. I will give you the weapons to destroy real targets, not these fleshly vessels humanity has come to adore so, Rabdos wrote back. Destroying a person’s life here in Eden is simple. Mortals have been doing that from the beginning. I’ll show you how to find their true strongholds, take what is theirs, and drive them from power.
The words came on the paper rapidly as Rabdos wrote with passion. His mind raced at the thought of beating his adversaries at their own game, capturing their holy places, and desecrating them. Fire actually began to burn slightly around the demon’s eyes as he drifted into a daydream of tortured souls crying out for his mercy, for him to ease their pains. He broke an evil, toothy grin as his daydream self turned his back upon those supplicants. Dante’s voice shattered the pleasant vision, bringing the demon angrily back to the present.
“But, but what kind of powers?” Dante questioned, not moving the knife. The wail of sirens drifted through the walls of the little hidden room.
Hear that Robert? That is the wailing cry of your certain imprisonment unless we come to terms, Rabdos wrote. He grew impatient with this mortal.
“What powers?” Dante hissed, forcefully standing and knocking his chair over as he did so.
I will show you the old ways of moving from shadow to shadow. No mere lackey, you. You shall have some of the Master’s own power to bend a person’s will to your own. Fire will not harm you, nor will any weapon forged by unbelieving Man. I will teach you to reshape and mold the physical to be whatever you wish, Rabdos wrote.
“What about money?” Dante asked. “And women, women too?”
Always they wanted the inconsequential, missing where the true wealth lay. Yes, yes, money and power. You will be able to mold women to your will as easily as the potter molds clay.
“Those things cannot aid me in my cause, Shaytan. I need power to hurt the enemy,” Dante said, finally taking his eyes off the knife and speaking directly at the paper.
But you can. With these powers we will gain knowledge of their plans. We will move to block those plans, and we will move others to destroy those plans all the while remaining in the shadows unaffected. We will move people as the chess master moves pawns on a board. When we are ready, we will be in a position to dethrone their King, but not before we destroy their castles, kill their knights, defrock their bishops, and rape their queen, Dante’s mouth began to turn up in a smile and Rabdos seized on the opportunity. All the things the enemy has done to your people through history, we will do to them in this age, this time, now. I can make that happen if you join with me.
The wheels turned in Robert Dante’s head. Rabdos could see that through his eyes as plainly as he could see the man. Dante stood rock still, mulling over what he’d been told. Rabdos resisted the urge to write more. Lord Malphas had counseled him to be cautious and let his charges work things out on their own at this stage. He recalled one of their clandestine meetings covering this very scenario. Rabdos was sure his input could push the man over the edge, and he’d said as much then. Lord Malphas had insisted this was the wrong course of action based on his millennia of experience in the field. Everything else Malphas had said to this point was accurate, so he held his peace and waited.
Guardians of the Herald is a weekly serial published and copyright by The Cavalier, Mark Malcolm. For more information about this story please join us on our Facebook page community at www.facebook.com/firstchevalierbooks.
