Chapter Thirty-Seven

The women's bathroom door exploded open as Aeron, Kashif, and Elizabeth forced their way in. "Ms. Lombardi, get back!" Kashif yelled as he drew his gun and dived between her and Satan's serpent. "Devil, why have you come here?!" His voice was as cold and vicious as a viper's fangs—his words laced with enough hatred to make even the heartiest Demon squirm.

"Oh, it's one of your bodyguards. What a nice surprise!" the Antichrist chuckled as her gaze slithered to the shocked Templar.

"You mind telling me why you're in that snake, you monster?" he asked as he rubbed his aching temples. "Be quick about it. You and I both know that familiars don't last."

"I just want to ask the ambassador some questions. Is that so wrong?" she whined. The tone of her voice reminded Aeron of a bratty child playing with toys.

"You know we aren't allowed to tell you anything," he responded, standing his ground as Zia took a few hesitant steps back. "You're being too cautious," he told his partner as he scooped the snake up. "She already knows that we're up to something. She wouldn't be here if she didn't. Am I right, Satan?" he hissed as the serpent slowly crawled up his arm.

"You know, Mr. Weber, your comrades could learn a thing or two from you," she whispered. With every slight movement, he felt the snake's forked tongue brush against his skin.

"Enough of that," he growled as he crushed the beast's brittle skull. It felt like he was squeezing a rotten orange. "Leave this place. You have no reason to be here." And that was the truth.

"Oh, there's no need to be so worried. I'm not going to get in your way. In fact, I came here to tell you something. Think of it as a helpful tip." Aeron frowned. Did she think they were idiots?

"Considering your station, it would be inappropriate for us to accept your aid." He only trusted this woman as far as he could throw her.

"I guess you have me there," the Demon conceded, her voice now nothing but a whisper on the wind. She must've been struggling to keep the connection going for so long. "As you can probably tell, Templar, I don't have much time left. So, I'll leave it up to you to decide. Do you want my help or not?" Usually, he would've declined without a second thought. However—after considering their current predicament—the Cherub stopped himself.

"Even if what she tells us is a lie, going on a fool's errand is better than being stuck here," he thought. He'd prefer to go out and search than waste time researching old newspapers. Plus, it wasn't like Satan could do anything to them. Besides summoning simple familiars, her powers on Earth were virtually nonexistent. "Okay then, Devil, why don't you enlighten us?" Aeron swore that he could feel the fallen Angel smile when he said that.

"This isn't much, but a little bird told me that there's something interesting happening near a coastline in France." Aeron sighed. The Demon was right—that wasn't useful at all.

"The mortals are currently embroiled in a world war. The coastlines will be some of the first places to be hit." The shore the Demoness was talking about was likely a battlefield. However, that didn't do them any good unless they knew what exactly was there. "That's it? A vague statement like that doesn't help us." In response, Satan just chuckled as her familiar slowly faded away.

"Sorry, but that's all I've got. You're in a library. Why don't you look it up?" she muttered, her voice vanishing along with the serpent.

"Damn… that sure was a waste of time," Aeron groaned as the ice rapidly evaporated. "Are you okay, Ms. Lombardi?" The ambassador looked slightly shaken, but besides that, she was fine.

"I've had my fair share of scares. What's one more to the pile?" Aeron smiled—that was good to hear.

"Go ahead and fix your makeup," he told her as he headed back out into the hallway. "We should at least try to act on that tip."

"Are we really going to trust that Demon?" Elizabeth mumbled—clearly unnerved by what happened. "I mean, this information came from the literal Devil. Why in the world should we believe her?" Aeron shrugged. That wasn't a question he had an answer for.

"You're right. We should take every word that comes out of her mouth with a grain of salt. But still… it's something." They were that desperate. "Kashif, can you go ask that editor for today's papers? I have a feeling that they'll come in handy." Without so much as a peep, the bodyguard nodded and hurried to the front desk.

"I'll be back before you finish the first article," Zia said.

"There's no need to rush—take as much time as you need. I'd rather you be careful than risk your face falling off when we're in public." With that, the Angel left, leaving the ambassador to her own devices.

"So, he can be considerate, who would've thought?" It wasn't easy to find someone as blunt as him in Heaven, especially amongst Cherubs. "Still…" she pondered as she brushed, "I can't help but feel that he's hiding something from us." Maybe she was just being paranoid. "Eh, whatever," she shrugged. "So far, he's proven to me that he's trustworthy." Her suspicions could wait until after they found the Scale, at least. "Ow! Dammit, that stings!" Thanks to Satan practically freezing the room solid, her sensitive skin had become inflamed and tender. "Shit," she cursed as she lightly added foundation to her throbbing flesh. The bristles felt like needles, each stroke causing a new wave of nauseating pain. However, that didn't stop her. Compared to the torture she went through in Hell, this was little more than a slap on the wrist. "Okay then," she continued as she gritted her teeth and got to work. "This is going to take a while."

After what felt like years, Zia finally returned to her comrades. Her hair was wet, and an alluring scent of daisies seemed to radiate off her being. "How do I look?" she asked Aeron, taking a seat next to the Angel.

"Fine," the man answered as he handed his partner a stack of papers. Little notes and faint scribbles covered every margin—he even highlighted the essential passages. "This is what we have so far. I recommend taking a moment to skim through it."

"This is from a tabloid," she muttered, clearly disappointed. "I thought you said we should only use trustworthy sources." In response, Aeron turned around and pointed at Elizabeth, who was gleefully reading a thick tome of history.

"Well, what do you have for me, chief?" she asked her as she plucked one of the girl's notes off the table. Drawn onto the parchment was an incredibly detailed map of what appeared to be a large quarry, complete with labels and full descriptions of notable areas. Hanging off the map was a separate piece of paper, this one being a recent news article. "Incredible archeological find in France? Discovery of the century?" she read some of the excerpts out loud—this was also from a tabloid! "Please don't tell me you three have just been sitting here reading this dribble for the past hour," she moaned.

"My thoughts exactly," Aeron started as he placed his palm atop another stack. "There's no use in doing this if we can't be thorough. To be sure, I cross-referenced that article with other reputable outlets. Granted, none of them were as dramatic as the tabloid, but the information is the same: A few years ago, some French scholars discovered an old burial ground on one of France's western coastlines. Now—while this did make the front page of the local news—that isn't why we decided to focus on this little story." As he spoke, the Templar reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, crumpled wad of paper. "I hope you don't mind, but while you were busy in the restroom, I made a copy of that list you were given. Thanks to it, I hit the jackpot."

"Let me guess," Zia started as she looked over the Angel's shoulder. "They found something that wasn't supposed to be there?" Aeron nodded as he slipped her the article. This one was printed quite recently. As Zia skimmed over paragraph after paragraph, she fell back into one of the chairs and clapped. A couple of villagers discovered an unusual artifact at the aforementioned site. The paper didn't have any information on what the catch looked like, but it seemed as if the object just appeared out of thin air.

"The timing fits, and I'm sure we all know what that mysterious treasure could be," Aeron told her as he got up and stretched, rushing out the door without a second thought.

"You do realize that the odds of it being the Scale are a million to one, right?" she chimed in, but her words flew right over the Angel's head. "I've got a feeling that you just want to get out of this library. Although," she sighed, "this does fit Satan's description." At this point, there were no wrong options. "You know what? Screw it. Let's go to France." Even though they didn't show it, she knew that her words were heaven to Kashif and Elizabeth's ears. "Are you guys ready?" she asked them as she followed Aeron out into the main hall.

"You know us, Ms. Lombardi. We're always ready," Elizabeth cheered. Honestly, she didn't even need to ask. "Hey, Templar, wait up!" the bodyguard called out to the Angel, who was standing silently in front of an open doorway at the other end of the complex. "What are you looking at? Did the Rapture start or something?" she asked, clearly curious, as she charged past him without a care in the world. However, the second her eyes processed what Aeron was staring at, she froze.

"Yeah, I know, that was my reaction as well," he told her as he stepped aside, allowing Zia and Kashif to see what lay within. Their loud gasps echoed throughout the hall like gunfire, but even that wasn't enough to adequately convey their shock. For lying in the center of the room, drenched in blood, was the body of the editor they'd met just a few hours ago. He was covered in bruises from top to bottom, and his face had been torn to shreds.

"Elizabeth, Kashif, I want you two to go outside and search the perimeter. Whoever did this might still be nearby," Zia ordered as she pulled up her sleeves and hastily prepared to inspect the corpse. "What are you waiting for?!" she yelled. "Go!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Elizabeth exclaimed as she and her counterpart hurried out of the room. "I'll search the alleyways," she said, "you get the front and back." With their group now separated, Aeron bit his lip and joined the ambassador next to the victim.

"What are you looking for?" he asked as she slowly unbuttoned the man's bloody shirt.

"If it was a mortal who inflicted these wounds, they must've used a weapon. If we look at his injuries, we might be able to tell what it was—which could lead us to the killer." Zia's nose shriveled up when she finally removed the last binding. The second she tore the shirt away, a pungent aroma filled the air. "Christ!" she cursed as she recoiled back from the corpse.

"Smells like rotting fish," Aeron commented as he sniffed the air. "Hmm… it's oddly familiar." He'd come across this stench in the past, but where? As he racked his mind trying to find the answer, Zia covered her mouth and continued.

"Some sort of sharp edge made this cut… and not a clean one." The injuries were all covered in a disgusting, grimy substance. Said substance was a putrid shade of purple and green and was likely the source of the horrid stench assaulting their nostrils.

"We've seen mold like this before," Aeron started as he trailed a finger across the grime—it felt like rough leather. "Those kelpies we fought earlier all had a similar fungus growing on them, but how could it have appeared on this man so quickly?"

"He was a mortal," Zia said. "His body isn't the same as ours. It's fragile and more susceptible to pathogens and diseases." Once she finished her makeshift autopsy, Zia got up and investigated the room. It was a relatively small place with a desk, a few cabinets, and a small sink caked in the putrid growth. "How curious," she whispered as she pulled out her pistol and walked up to the sink—which was still dripping murky water.

"Why'd you draw your gun? We aren't being attacked," Aeron asked as he joined the ambassador next to the moldy appliance.

"After that whole debacle at the beach, I don't fancy getting caught up in another ambush. This is still a dangerous situation, especially if it was a kelpie that did this," she explained as she looked down at the pipe's rusty handle. After wrapping a nearby rag around her hand, she reached down and grabbed it. Clumps of fungi slid off with every tug—like scraping ice off a hot sheet of metal. With that, a disturbing silence fell over the room, making it feel as if they were standing in a morgue. "There we go," she sighed as she wiped some sweat off her brow. "The knob was stuck," she said. "Hopefully, this will stop the leak." Suddenly, without warning, she primed her pistol and turned around, firing randomly into the shadows.

"Do you mind telling me what you're shooting at? Or are you just scared of the dark?" Aeron wondered as he, too, drew his weapon. The second he did, a kelpie—which had already been torn to pieces by Zia's bullets—came shuffling out of the shade. Its claws were drenched in fresh blood and bits of flesh. The creature's glowing eyes pierced the darkness like a pair of lamps as it haphazardly ran towards them, its gaping maw open, ready for its next meal.

"I'm assuming you've got this one, right?" Zia asked Aeron as she holstered her piece. The Angel nodded as he pulled his gavel's trigger, causing a cloud of black flame to burst out of the gun's barrel—instantly burning the monster to ash.

"I guess there's a time and place for everything," he mumbled as he blew away the smoke. "I designed those flames only to be able to burn organic matter, but I've never had the chance to use them before now." Faint wisps of dark fire were still scattered about the room. They blazed with the vigor of a dying sun before quickly disappearing, leaving small piles of black dust in their wake.

"Well, I'm impressed that you didn't spark an inferno. However," Zia mumbled as she crouched down and plucked the editor's clothes from one of the crumbling mounds, "I think you went a bit overboard. You ended up incinerating the victim's corpse." Now it would be impossible for the authorities to identify the body.

"Don't worry, I understand," Aeron said as he reached into his holster and pulled his gavel's trigger again. Miraculously, the piles of dust that surrounded them began to pool in the center of the room. The particles filled the empty clothes like a swarm of hungry rats, morphing into the editor's image. "I did change a few things. This way, people will think that he died from a heart attack."

"Hmm… thanks, that should be good enough," Zia said as she stared at the other pile that used to be a kelpie. "What should we do with this?" Instead of answering her, Aeron grabbed a nearby broom and brushed the ash into the closest trash can.

"There's no need to give that thing a proper burial." Once the floor was thoroughly cleaned, the Cherub clapped his hands together to bless their late acquaintance and headed out into the lobby. "I'm sure that I don't have to say this, but we should leave this city as soon as possible." Zia couldn't agree more.

"With how things are going, I think it's pretty safe to assume that these creatures are following us," she pondered. Kelpies were not natural organisms, and they didn't hunt on a whim. If Aeron's research on the monster was accurate, it was unbelievably rare for such a beast to show up this far inland. "We're probably drawing them to us somehow."

"Yeah, I already guessed that," Aeron told her as his eyebrows narrowed. "This entire situation keeps on getting stranger and stranger. First, we lose our connection to the Bureau, then we get attacked, and now this. Could the Scale's presence be responsible for all of these abnormalities?" Various thoughts and theories swirled around the Angel's mind as he tried to come up with an answer. Even though they were dealing with one of God's tools, he didn't hear anything about it being able to create monsters out of the ether. No, there had to be somebody else out there who was searching for it. Some third party that had painted a target onto their backs. "Kelpies are a product of Greek mythology. Maybe my fallen kin are involved?" He knew that the Greek pantheon did, in fact, exist. However, they were all currently trapped in Tartarus. "Could one of them have managed to escape?" Aeron shook his head—that was impossible. "But still…" he thought as he stared at the editor's cold body. "What else could explain this?" While he focused on collecting his frazzled mind, Zia walked over to the building's front exit and waited for her subordinates to return.

"Did you find anyone suspicious?" she asked when the two bodyguards—who were both dripping with sweat—opened the door. Elizabeth sighed and shook her head.

"Besides a few vagrants and one or two prostitutes, there was nobody worth mentioning," Kashif told her as he scrunched up his nose. "Why does it smell like something is burning?" Elizabeth perked up when he asked that—she smelt it as well.

"That'd be Aeron's doing," Zia told them as she explained what had happened inside. "It appears that we're being hunted. By whom I can't say."

"Are you certain that somebody is controlling them? That seems like kind of a stretch. Who knows? Maybe we just smell good." Elizabeth's argument was logical but flawed.

"If they were simply searching for food, they would've tried to kill me when I was last here. No… these dogs have a master, and we need to find out who." As expected, the two bodyguards' first guess was Satan. "That would make sense if we didn't just talk to her," Aeron muttered as he rummaged through the deceased editor's desk. "Satan isn't stupid. If she wanted us dead, she could've done the deed when we were in Hell. Plus, that devil didn't seem to know about the Scale."

"You do know who you're talking about, right? She's probably the Universe's best actor." Elizabeth had a point. When it came to someone like that, logical reasoning was next to useless. However, Aeron just couldn't believe it was her. It was too obvious.

"Look, right now, let's forget about the kelpies. We need to focus on doing what we came here for," he said as he yanked a small customer registry out of one of the drawers. "Damn," he mumbled as he dragged his fingers across its leather cover. "It's completely drenched. We won't be getting any clues from this." As he tossed the tattered record aside, he rubbed his aching hands and hurried out into the misty street. While they were busy researching, a thick fog had enveloped the city in its frigid embrace.

"Do you think we'll be able to get a ship in this?" Zia asked as a gale blasted through the area, causing her red hair to dance wildly in the breeze. "The dig site is in France, after all." Aeron had to admit—he would like to avoid sea travel if possible. Not only was it slow, but the passenger ships were usually overcrowded and filthy. He had wings. Why not use them?

"I know what you're thinking, Angel, so stop," Elizabeth hissed as she searched her map for the nearest dock. "It was you, after all, that said we should try our best to avoid attracting attention." Aeron scratched his neck as he stared into a puddle. He was starting to get bags underneath his eyes—a first for him.

"What can I say?" he murmured as he lightly touched his back. "I'm a Cherub. The need for flight is in my blood. Now then… where to next?" he asked the bodyguard as he peeked over her shoulder. Thankfully, their destination was just down the road.

"It'll be a tad busy, but it will have to do," Elizabeth said as she gathered her things and started walking towards the dock. Even with the thick fog, they could see the ships' smoke climbing up into the sky over the rooftops.

"Hmm… this smell reminds me of Charon's ferry," Aeron mused as he, Zia, and Kashif all hurried after Elizabeth. With the archive now nothing more than a passing memory, he took out a cigar and placed it in his mouth. He watched as the small cloud of cigarette smoke floated up into the air, joining with the surrounding buildings' smokestacks before finally vanishing. The day he met the old ferryman, the weather was just as bad as this. Nothing but grey for as far as the eye could see. When he first stepped onto that old ship, all those years ago, it was almost like a dream. "Heh, if that was a dream, then what does that make this?" He didn't even need to think to know the answer to that question. This was a nightmare.

Nine hundred years ago...

Before I'd even reached my thirtieth birthday, a morbid curiosity of the other realms had taken root. Around that point in my life, I truly realized how different I was from my kin. After I got myself injured from climbing up to the top of that church, I found myself searching for the next big thrill. Most of these excursions were… uneventful… to say the least, mainly just annoying the priests and exploring dangerous parts of God's garden. Besides a few scrapes and burns, I always came out unscathed. However—when my wings finally grew in—all of that changed. Taking flight was a liberating experience, one that I still remember even after all these years. For us Angels, that first time in the sky serves as both a marker of our maturity and as a symbol of our faith. According to the priests, we get closer to the Almighty with every flap of our wings. Of course, I couldn't care less about the spiritual aspect—all I wanted to do was touch the clouds. During one of my many adventures, I flew down to the Bureau to watch the mortals go about their daily lives. Even back then, I found their day-to-day activities so much more interesting than mine. I remember flying up to the top of the Bureau's tallest tower and just watching the rookie judges train for hours.

The day I first met Charon was a gloomy one. It was one of those rare days where Heaven was covered in fog. The mist was so thick you could barely see five feet in front of you. Like the rascal I was, I used the poor weather as cover to sneak closer to The Courthouse. I climbed up to the old minister's tower and managed to peek inside through one of the windows. At that time, the Minister was in the middle of a meeting. As he argued with the councilmembers, he took out a small device and placed it in the center of the conference table. A few moments later, a golden projection of an older man came shining out of it. I didn't know it at the time, but the person I was staring at was none other than Charon, the ferryman. Out of all the people there, he was the only one who noticed me flying just outside the window. When the Minister and the others weren't looking, he smiled and waved at me. It wouldn't be until years later—when I had my first assignment in Purgatory—that I'd finally learn who this man was.

Sadly, during that visit to the Bureau, I was caught by one of the judges. Since I was an Angel, I got let off without any punishment. However, when I got back home, I was greeted with nothing but intense expressions of disgust. "Why go down there when God has given us this paradise? That boy needs to learn some respect," I heard one of them say when I was trudging through the main square. Even my so-called friends couldn't stand to be seen with me after that day. Essentially, I was turned into an outcast by my hometown. The people I had seen in church every Sunday morning now averted their gaze whenever I walked into the room. Now that I think about it, that was probably the biggest reason I became a judge. Half of it was to cure my boredom, but the other half was just me trying to escape their scornful glares.