Fallen Reign (Sins of the Father 1)

When the flames cleared and my vision returned, all that remained was the charred, blackened imprint of a man’s body against the wall. Quilliam J. Abernathy was gone.

36

After a couple of days spent mostly sleeping and subsisting on plain frozen cheese pizzas, Florian and I finally regained enough strength to peel ourselves off our beds for more than thirty minutes. Or my couch, in Florian’s case.

The fight against Mammon and Quill – that traitorous rat bastard – had taken a hell of a lot out of both me and Florian, physically and spiritually. And fine, so Belphegor had nothing to do with the demons. But I still wasn’t going to believe that he meant me anything but ill.

Yet our problems were far from over. Too many clocks were ticking. The rent was due real soon, but we could barely work, much less stay upright for very long. We were just counting down the days until our landlord busted our door open and kicked us out.

“Hey. Florian. Florian.” I was hoping my voice would carry through my bedroom door and into the living room. Florian’s half moan, half grunt told me he was at least half listening. “Do you think – if we find a spot somewhere in the woods – do you think you could make us a house out of vines and bark? Just, like, grow one out of the ground.”

After about half a minute, his response came. “I dunno. And then what? We just live our lives in the forest?”

“Yeah, dude. Two Tarzans, Tarzan-ing it up in the California wilds. No rent to pay, ever. We could live on what nature provides us. Or, you know, you could grow fruit out of your bare hands or whatever it is you do.”

He chuckled. “Yeah? And you’d still have to get better at warding magic, keep away the crazies that want to kidnap your nephilim ass.”

I shoved my face in my pillow and groaned. “Ugh. Don’t remind me.”

That was when the phone rang. Dionysus. I picked up, murmuring a groggy “Hello?” into the receiver.

“Well, hello yourself, Mason,” Dionysus purred. “Time to pick yourself up and go to the hardware store. Buy some nails while you’re at it. Artemis has more work for you.”

I stretched out along my bed, my feet sticking out past the frame, my body fighting every impulse to leave its creaky, squeaky comforts. “And when do we get paid for our work, exactly?”

“We’re still working that out,” Dionysus said stiltedly. “Artemis has had surprising difficulty adjusting to modern currency. Oh, I say difficulty, but really, I should have simply said stubbornness. All she has are jewels and gold coins. We need to get those pawned first, perhaps in the Black Market. That will take some time. You do understand, don’t you?”

I sighed, staring up at the ceiling. Entities, am I right? “Whatever, man. We’ll do it. Even if we have to live out in the forest, we’ll still need cash to buy toilet paper.”

It took me and Florian less than an hour to drag our still-exhausted corpses out of

the apartment, and we certainly remembered to buy nails this time around. Based on the last session, I knew I could use the Vestments to pull up the closest approximation of the tools I would need for the job. Battle axes chopped wood just as nicely as regular ones did, with the added bonus of looking slightly cooler.

Time would tell if I could use a full-blown mace to hammer nails into wood, but I supposed that I could scrounge around and look harder for some kind of celestial war mallet. I had money to buy some nails, sure, but actual tools? Pass. We were going to use the last of our money on frozen pizzas. We still needed to eat, damn it.

At least passing through the Nicola Arboretum and actually entering Artemis’s domicile was uneventful, and I’d wised up since the last time we came to work. I dressed nice and comfy in a tank top and a pair of shorts, and even brought a pair of sunglasses. Artemis welcomed us gruffly, as did Priscilla, who presented us with our regulation coconuts. I couldn’t lie, though. Just seeing Priscilla reminded me of her cooking prowess and the fact that we were going to get at least one fantastic meal out of the bargain. Man can’t live on toaster pizzas alone.

Some time before lunch, Artemis called me over, looking like she had a list of things she needed doing.

“More of these flat-pack furniture things to deal with,” Artemis told me. “And I’m going to need you to put up some little structures this time. A cute little shed over there, and maybe a gazebo, if you can swing it.”

I squinted at the places she indicated, then nodded. “I can certainly try.”

“The point is to make them sturdy. Perfection and prettiness aren’t important. Take all the wood you need from the trees around here. Even if your buildings look crappy, we can always get Florian to throw some moss and vines all over them and everything.” She pursed her lips and nodded, her eyes going distant as she imagined the end result. “With or without shitty handiwork, we’re going to make this place look like it’s fit for elves, damn it.”

I pouted. “Hey, give me some credit. I’ll try to make them pretty. Also, did you just say elves?”

“Guys?” Florian walked up and positioned himself between the two of us, which was a little too close for comfort by most standards. “We need to talk.”

My eyes flitted from him, to Artemis, then back. “Right now? Buddy, we’ve got work to do, and it kind of sounds to me like you’ve got something private you want to share, so maybe save it for when we’re back at the – ”

He put his hand up. “This can’t wait, and it’s meant for the both of you. You’re some of the only people I actually trust in this world, and I think you deserve to know.”

The relaxed, carefree demeanor that Artemis almost always wore melted from her expression, and she stood to attention, folding her arms and watching Florian intently. “If this is important to you, then I’m all ears.”

I pretty much copied what Artemis was doing, trying not to appear so flustered. “Yeah, me too, man. I’m listening.”

“Okay,” Florian said. He looked at the ground, up at the sky, then shut his eyes, taking in a massive quantity of breath, like he was building up to some major reveal. I won’t deny, I was getting a little anxious, and maybe a little excited about it, too. “I’m not a dryad.”