Shadow Kissed 03 - Shadowman

time. Ever. “The angels know as well. They came for the gate, and moved it.”
    â€œAngels are bullying me on the road?” she demanded. “They could get someone hurt!”
    â€œThey just want me.” The Order was taking no chances. A mage had been born, one who’d already brought Hell and death to the world. His cursed gate was his own death warrant. “You simply found me first.”
    â€œWell, they can’t have you.”
    The boxy car veered again, scraping against theirs, the sound an offensive shriek of metal on metal.
    And still the devil had to be dealt with. Might as well be now, before he lost this last chance.
    â€œGet off this big road, Layla.” The calm in his voice surprised even him.
    â€œNo way.”
    â€œWe can’t go on like this,” Shadowman insisted. “Trust me. Let me speak with them.”
    â€œThe angels will do what’s right. Right?” But she didn’t sound as if she believed it.
    The truth was, the angels would do what they believed was right, whether it was or not. They had only their own counsel to go by, the good of humankind foremost in their minds. But there would be no doubt: A mage who’d built a gate to Hell would be best scrubbed from Earth. Unless of course, that mage meant to fight a devil first.
    â€œThis road is dangerous, Layla,” he reasoned. “Let’s get off it before someone”— meaning you —“gets hurt.”
    â€œCusto wouldn’t hurt you, and he’s an angel,” she said, trying to convince herself.
    She took a side road, and the guard of surrounding cars followed, yes, like a flock of strange geese. She turned right onto the next street and coasted down its length. This road was wide, surely busy at certain times of day, but just now few cars passed. The buildings seemed gray, passionless, silent, on the sidewalks only a soul or two.
    Shadowman noted the intersection ahead. Perfect. “Stop here.”
    The surrounding cars gave Layla no choice but to stop in the middle of the street.
    â€œGood,” he said. “Stay in the car.”
    So of course she got out at the same time he did.
    The angels were exiting, too, their bright, beautiful faces full of doom. Two there, four on that side, another group joining at his back. Ballard at his right. They were men and women in modern dress, all of them armed with Heavenly weapons. And suddenly he was reminded of that first day with Layla, on the city street. Then, too, the angels had stepped out of obscurity and made themselves known. Watching.
    He approached Ballard, who momentarily braced himself to strike.
    Shadowman glanced down at the battle-ax in Ballard’s hand. The haft was long and the silver-blue blade moon arched, though differently oriented than his scythe had been. Still, the handling would be similar. “Might I borrow that for a moment?”
    Ballard’s brows drew together, his former concentration broken. His upper lip curled. “You think I would . . .”
    â€œI’ll need something to strike down the devil.” Shadowman shifted his gaze to the intersection ahead, the crossroads, hoping that Ballard would know the lore regarding the summoning of a devil, and understand his meaning. A crossroads was a place where the boundaries of the three worlds grew thin, even that of Hell. From there the gate and its she-devil would hear his call for a deal and be forced to answer. Making a deal with the devil had a very long tradition among humanity that lived on in stories and song, even permeating this young country and these modern times. “I built the gate that let her out. It’s my duty. If I am going to fight today, don’t you think I’d best start with her?”
    Frowning deeply, Ballard reluctantly offered the weapon. “You pursue Hell too often.”
    â€œIndeed.” Shadowman took the ax and found the weight of the weapon pleasing in his right hand, as he had his scythe for millennia. It did not burn his mortal flesh, as the hammer had Death’s. He gripped the haft near the blade, reached to gather his long hair into a bunch, and with the blade cut the lot of it off.
    â€œDon’t!” Layla pleaded, too late and foolish. The hair could only be a liability in a fight. And he meant to win this one.
    â€œThank you,” Shadowman said to Ballard. “I’ll give the weapon back to you shortly.”
    He turned at Layla’s