Abyss of the Fallen Read online

  Dagon had not noticed the car. Now he saw it, and yes, it was ugly. A wide white stripe ran along the side of the car, seemingly splitting it in half. Was this meant to be a distraction from the two-toned blue color? To make matters worse, the body was bulbous and wide. The car had a hatchback with a wide fat window that tilted in. Dagon cringed at this obnoxious metal thing. “She’s too gorgeous to be riding in something as hideous as that.”

  “Maybe it was a reject from the car manufacturer,” Sledge offered. “Humans can make better cars than this. We’ve seen them.”

  Tentatively, she backed her car down the driveway. Checking both ways numerous times, she took off down the street.

  “Your guarding duties begin now. All of you will stay and guard my love, who is priceless.” Dagon took a step and stopped. “I know you have to make the connection, but you don’t need to stand around her bed afterward. Make the connection and get out.”

  “Can you bring us back some chocolates? Milk or dark, it doesn’t matter, just bring it!” they said collectively.

  He said nothing but nodded as he showed each where he wanted them to be positioned. Dagon relaxed his posture, his hands now by his side. The four unsheathed their swords in unison and turned the blades over in the light. Pleased with the inspection, Dagon began following his bonded mate in her less-than-beautiful car. He could see for miles easily, watching her car turning down street after street.

  “This car needs to be put out of its misery,” said Dagon, as the fallen Cherbs shook their heads in agreement.

  “Save her, boss, save her from that disgraceful hunk of metal!”

  “I plan on it, boys.”

  The car was parked at a local dance club, which didn’t thrill Dagon in the least, for only one type of man patronized it. Bewilderingly, she locked the car. Why would she bother? Who would want it? He was half tempted to melt through the car and unlock the door. Maybe, somehow, it would get stolen. The car contradicted the way she dressed.

  Again, he placed his arm around her. They went inside the dance club, which was dimly lit. After running into a couple of tables and chairs, he let go and followed her to one of them where several ladies greeted her with warm smiles. He could discern some of their thoughts, while others he could not. This intermittent mental frequency puzzled him.

  “Mary, I saved you a seat.”

  “Thanks, Linda,” said Mary.

  He received three gifts today: meeting his beloved, finding out her name, and discovering he apparently could not discern the thoughts of Mary’s friends. Uncertain if her family or foes fell into this category, he figured he would find out at some point.

  Dagon and Mary … sounds good. Has a nice ring to it.

  He found out through listening that Linda was getting married, and this was her bachelorette party. He then conducted a mental sweep of the room. All seemed well … so far.

  Great, I’ve heard about these parties. If I see a man come out and start dancing and even begin to take off his ... He won’t ever dance again nor do anything else again. Well, I never knew when I would find her or what condition I would find her in, but a bachelorette party?

  He found a quiet empty table, tucked away in a darkened corner. Reluctantly, he gave her privacy while loneliness gripped his heart. Pulling out a chair, he sat, never losing sight of her.

  In the dark, he sat hidden while his light was nearer than ever. The wait was over, and he was the happiest half-man who had ever lived. In that moment, the length of time it had taken to find her meant nothing, nothing at all. In addition to her beauty, she also carried herself with elegance and gentleness. Her voice was soft compared to all the other women seated at the table. Some of the ladies at the table seemed brash and somewhat rude, but Mary took it all in her patient stride. He gave her credit, for had they been men, they would have known the wrath of Lord Dagon. Mary was beautiful, inside and out.

  It was early evening, and the women went out onto the dance floor except for Mary, who sat all alone, like him. He saw her watching her friends as they danced. Some were dancing alone, some with men. She looked sad to him. She watched her friends enjoying themselves. He didn’t want her dancing with men if he could help it, but he didn’t want her sitting alone, either. What he wanted was to dance with her and her alone.

  Some of the ladies made their way back to the table for drinks while a few stayed on the crowded dance floor. Mary stood, and he watched her intently, but she just seemed to be stretching. She was safe, so he kept his mind at simmer but remained ready for anything. Rapidly, it went from simmer to a rolling boil when a man started his approach, but Dagon placed himself between them, gripping his sword.

  Here come the suitors. This man was dressed not too badly but not too great either. A stylish t-shirt sagged and bagged over his rail thin frame. His scoffed gym shoes proved he didn’t have much style, let alone class. He tossed his head toward Mary in a macho way that made Dagon want to hit that guy in the face. Obviously, he thought he was a gift to all women. Dagon flicked the hilt of his sword concealed in his trench coat. The man began to ask her to dance, but then he shut up good. To his good sense, he walked away.

  Yes, that’s right, back away while you still have a back.

  The second man was not as confident but confident enough. He gawked at Mary from across the room. When he caught her looking back, he adjusted his Goodwill rejects and took a step forward. But halfway across the room as he passed several men bigger and stronger than him, and he cast his gaze to the floor. He shook his body, pumped his arms, took a deep breath and moved toward Mary again. Dagon watched this back and forth as the man struggled with his inner demons of self-doubt. Dagon understood this all too well. The man had good sense. He turned around and walked away.

  Her body stiffened, fighting back tears.

  If a third man comes around, I will stand aside for just one dance.

  No time seemed to pass when his mind found a third man who had his sights on Mary. He seemed neither confident nor shy. He stepped aside before the man reached Mary. He sat back at his corner table, watching this man make his move on Dagon’s bonded mate. Unfortunately, she said yes. They danced to a techno upbeat tune, fast and catchy. Dagon tapped his feet under the table, keeping time to the music, marking time for the song to end. As he watched them, he detected a hint of a dancer in Mary. Her moves were reserved but fluid. Her skills seemed held in check. He wasn’t sure, but he hoped he had found his own dancing partner.

  The song ended, and she thanked the man for the dance before making her way back to her seat. She was almost to her chair, when the same man approached her.

  “Dance with me again!”

  She politely refused, but this character kept at it.

  Dagon didn’t have to be a mind reader. The man’s persistence made his blood boil. The man would not take “no” for an answer. Dagon was already making his way over to her as the man continued talking.

  “Oh, come on, just one more dance? Come on, dance with me,” said the guy, gripping Mary’s arm.

  “No, I am done dancing, okay? Let go. Please, just let go.”

  Dagon placed himself between them, his back to Mary. He controlled with his mind who would see him and who would not by using veils. One veil made him invisible to humans. A second veil made him invisible to immortals as well. By reversing either veil, he could alter what people saw. Reversing one of his veils, it was Mary and the guy who could see him. Everyone else in the room, if they were looking at this scene, only saw a lady and an obnoxious guy.

  She jumped back as the man’s grip on her arm released. The man visibly shook when Dagon appeared right there in his face, seemingly out of nowhere.

  No sooner was he between Mary and her antagonist when a hiss came from outside the back door of the dance club. Savila. And she hunted for blood.

  He wasted no time. He didn’t know if Savila would harm Mary by sampling her blood, but he wasn’t going to take the chance. He ran his finger down the length of
his coat. He opened it wide, exposing his sword. “The lady said she’s done dancing with you.”

  The guy’s eyes widened. “Who walks around with a sword? This isn’t England or wherever it is that accent is from. What could you do anyway? There are witnesses everywhere.”

  “You ask the wrong questions. The question you should have asked is, ‘Why am I here?’ As to witnesses: No one can see me except you and the lady. I am here to protect her, and this I will do,” he said calmly as if he were merely giving directions to someplace or another.

  Time stood still. Mary’s fingers gently stroked the palm of Dagon’s hand. With her fingers, she outlined his ring of investiture and his thumb ring, making his hand reflexively draw in, and for a moment, they were holding hands.

  Does she like me or is she just glad I rescued her? He was hoping for the first.

  “You will apologize to the lady. Now.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” Mary murmured, but Dagon felt her quivering.

  “Not good enough,” he said to the guy.

  “I’m really sorry.” The man flinched as Dagon applied pressure on his mind. “I should never have done that … I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you,” was all she said as she squeezed his hand, and it seemed like she was thanking him and not the guy. It took every ounce of strength not to chuck it all, turn around, and hold her.

  A familiar caress of ice flowed down his neck and back.

  “I can see he has offended you, Dagon.” Savila’s voice dripped indulgent affection into his head as if she addressed a favored dog. “Thus he will please me, so send him out. I could use a drink.”

  “You will leave out the back door,” Dagon said to the man.

  The guy said nothing, only turned around and left out the back door. Mary’s face relaxed. Fighting centuries of loneliness, Dagon didn’t know what to do next. All he ever wanted to do was be with her, but his emotions kept him momentarily paralyzed. In a split-second reaction, he replaced his veil, making him invisible again to everyone, including Mary. The music drowned out the blood-piercing screams. Even before he placed himself in front of Mary and before Savila arrived, he intended on making the guy leave out the back door. He had not intended to deliver him to Savila, but he wasn’t sorry either.

  Mary jumped and turned, searching the dance hall. “Where did the blond guy go?” she asked the few friends who were seated at the table.

  “I’m right here, luv,” whispered Dagon.

  “Blond? We only saw the loser with the brown hair,” said one of the women. The other women laughed. Even Mary and Dagon chuckled.

  She craned her head to search the room for him. He was right there, looking directly at her, unabashed, smitten, and bitten.

  He reached up to brush a stray hair from her forehead at the same time a dancer whisked past, creating a gust of wind. He quivered, for earlier he held her waist, and then her hand in his and now her hair. The tactile sensation was sensory overload for a man who had never been in contact with anyone or been shown anything but loathing. He was basically a homeless, starving man, only just now coming to life.

  Mary found her chair and sat. He made a quick decision not to go back to his darkened corner but to join her yet remain invisible. Mary mumbled under her breath,

  “I know that I saw him. He’s real.”

  “Yes, luv, we have found each other.” He hoped she could hear this in her mind.

  Several men came off the dance floor and sat by some of the women. Thankfully, they were all just friends. He relaxed, as three large pizzas were placed on the table: cheese, pepperoni, and sausage. This bachelorette party turned out to be nothing like what he feared it would be. Rather, it was laid back and casual.

  Seeing Mary, being with Mary, the pizza and the light banter made this the best day he had ever had, and he didn’t want it to end. He just wished for the day to come when he didn’t have to remain invisible. He wondered why he really needed to do this. The fact was, he didn’t, but he was anxiously apprehensive.

  Remaining invisible, he grabbed the last slice of pizza. After all, he was a part of the party now.

  “Hey, who took the last slice of cheese pizza?” questioned one guy.

  “Yeah, and the pepperoni and sausage are all gone, too!” shouted the other.

  The two men accused some of the other men of having trash can stomachs.

  “We didn’t take it!”

  “No, I did,” said Dagon as he sat back, munching away, the warm sauce oozing out beneath the mouthwatering cheese. He chased it down with some Coke he had poured into an empty glass from a pitcher on the table.

  The pizza was now long forgotten, and the light banter continued. Shaky and edgy, his lungs begged for comfort. It amazed him how he had gone this long without a smoke. He took out one silver cigarette and placed it in his mouth. Seconds before he lit it, Mary also had a cigarette in her mouth. In slow motion, he tapped the end of his cigarette, sparking it to life, just as she took a pink lighter and lit the end of her cigarette. At the same time, they inhaled and exhaled.

  “Baby, you shouldn’t be smoking, it’s bad for you.” He puffed out a plume. “I should talk.”

  Mary didn’t respond, of course.

  The party was ending. She placed the butt of her cigarette in an ashtray on the table while he flicked the end of his, causing the gold to rapidly recede and sizzle. He helped her push her chair back as she stood to leave. She thanked Linda, told everyone else good night, and walked away.

  “We had a fun time. Good night, everybody, and thank you for a wonderful evening,” said Dagon.

  He followed her back to her house. A security light glowed above the driveway, where she sat in the car for a while. She took off her stilettos and took a deep breath before opening the door then made a mad dash to the front porch.

  Once inside, she shut the door with a quick hard push. Making quite a ruckus, she rattled down what sounded like a column of locks on the door. The entrance now secure, they watched her shadow check every window in her Fort Knox house.

  “She’s obsessive, compulsive, and clearly has a disorder,” said Sledgehammer as sensitive as a rusty tack.

  “She’s scared,” said Dagon, perplexed. “Did you see anyone come near the house?”

  “No. We wish,” Friar said.

  Dagon shot him a dangerous look.

  “I meant we want to see some action,” Friar amended. “But alas, no one came near this house.”

  “Good, but why is she scared? She must live alone.”

  “Then go to her, boss,” said Mr. Cool. “She’s a damsel in distress, so save her.”

  “I want to, but I can’t yet. You four are here for now.”

  “Did you get some?” Razz said.

  “How wicked, I’ll give you some, I ought to have you flogged!”

  “Did you get some chocolates. For shame!”

  “Here are your chocolates.”

  Saluting him, they savored the chocolate and told him to pay up.

  Dagon reached inside of his coat and pulled out a metal briefcase. He took out four rolls of cash and threw one to each of them, whose money-grabbing hands caught them with athletic ease. The individual bills flicked fast. Each counted his payment for services rendered. With a skeptical eye, they inspected the money by sniffing it and then holding it up under the moonlight.

  “Is this counterfeit?” Razz said.

  “That is legal tender,” said Dagon.

  “Hold it up to the moonlight again. Does it look real?” Razz asked the others while Dagon tapped his foot, trying to control his temper.

  “This doesn’t look real! Remember back in Rome? He tried to pass us fake coin slugs. Even with no face of Nero on it, which was a vast improvement, it was fake, nonetheless. Any worse luck and we would have been thrown into the gladiator pits.”

  “The money is not counterfeit, illegal, or otherwise, but if my money is not good enough for you, then …”

&
nbsp; “It’s real,” said Mr. Cool. “We knew it all along.”

  With a sneer at the Cherbs, Dagon put the case back in his coat.

  “You need one of those human money stuffers, for as much as you will be paying us, it will be quite a workout constantly opening up that hefty case, not to mention the balancing act you performed. Although highly entertaining, it could be hard on your arms. We’re only looking out for your best interest, boss.” Sledge held his hands out.

  “Yes, and yours.”

  “Yes, that, too.”

  “You know, you may be right about a money stuffer.”

  “We’re always right.”

  Dagon laughed with them then stopped. “Don't you dare try and look at her, Razz. You will wish for Nero after I flog you. I am the only one who will look after it’s nice and legal, very legal.”

  “You know you want to, boss.”

  “Of course, I want to, and I will, but only after it is proper and legal.”

  “Can we have a cigarette?” said Friar. “You had one, but we didn’t.”

  Dagon didn’t answer right away but walked over to Mary’s white porch swing and sat. “You’re on duty, and I’m not.”

  “It was easier living under the thumbs of the pharaohs and the good-for-nothing emperors than living under your tyrannical reign,” said Mr. Cool.

  Dagon smoked away with his legs stretched out and feet propped up on the porch railing. The smoke tendrils moved with the wind over the night grass.

  “Slave driver! Tyrant!”

  They hurtled insult after insult at him, carrying on for what seemed like hours. Dagon reached his limit and walked to the all night “Suds your Duds” laundromat to wash his clothes. The guys lost interest in bashing him and instead reminded him to use a front loader and dryer sheets, for clingy clothes would be a fashion disaster. Dagon smirked at their subtly altruistic comments.

  2

  The First Week

  Dagon gave his clothes one last sniff, pleased with the springtime fragrance of the dryer sheets and no static cling. Refreshed, he dissolved through the glass door of the laundromat.