Tableau #1: The Chase

“THIS WAY!” My partner Tony McLaren loped beside me. We were chasing a group of young punks that had broken into a store and set off the alarm. They dropped their goodies and took off like a shot when they saw us.

We were gaining on them; even with our loaded duty belts we were in better physical shape than they were. Tony and I were wearing some new uniforms that Cap had gotten as a trial for the precinct; the fabric was thinner and silkier than normal and had a bit of stretch to it. Our shirts clung to our torsos like a second skin that showed off our hard and hard-won musculature. The pants were styled along EMT or military lines with large patch pockets - these were also cut trimmer than normal with the stretch taking up any slack - which meant they showed off our butts and bulges to perfection. Combined with the 8-inch Bates C3 boots, we looked like a pair of hard-core military badasses pounding the pavement after terrorists. Given the physical shape of most officers in the other precincts, however, I don't think these would become standard issue any time soon.

A ear-splitting shriek shattered the silence and we both came to a juddering stop.

“What the fuck was that?” Tony was slightly flushed; so was I. Not bad for running full-out for over twenty blocks with a full complement of equipment. He loosened his gun from its holster and the muscles below his inked skin moved like restless sharks beneath water.

I gestured for him to be quiet and we slowly crept forward. The two of us moved into an alley; back-to-back with our Glocks drawn, we orbited each other as we headed down the dark passage towards the next street. Once again, we were in the open and the streetlights illumined the empty avenue. I heard the noise of footfalls rapidly approaching and we swung in that direction. Two of the perps we had been chasing were running towards us, terror painted across their dark faces.

“Stop!” Tony shouted. Our guns were held in a steady, two handed grip as the pair skidded to a halt.

“Oh fuck … it’s gonna eat us! You gotta help! Please!!” The taller of the two was babbling and his partner-in-crime was not in much better shape; he was hyperventilating and looked ready to pass out.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

The smaller man started to cry. “It ate Malik! It … it … just grabbed him and bit his head off!” He sank to the pavement and held onto my leg like a terrified child. He pointed backwards towards another alley. At that point, the scent hit me and my blood ran cold.

"Tony," I turned to my partner. “Take these two back down the alley, cuff them and call for pickup. Stay with them. I’ll see what’s up ahead.”

“Charlie, you can’t go in alone! We don’t know what the hell is going down over there!”

I holstered my gun and pushed Tony against the wall of the building. I gave him a hard look. “McLaren, that is a fucking order. Understand? Get these two and yourself as far and as fast from here as possible.”

I looked into his eyes. He was scared for me more than anything else. Terrified to tell Jamie or Mateo he let something happen to me. My voiced softened. “I’ll be okay. Don’t worry … just get out of here.”

I squared my shoulders and headed down the way the two perps had come running. Once you smell demon, you never forget it.

* * *

The Hell-scent grew stronger. I slid the baton out of the ring on my belt as I approached another dark alley. There was only one way to deal with this situation. I heard some crunching and sucking sounds as I grew closer to the shadowy entrance. I could see that the alley was T-shaped; my heart was pounding as I walked into the alley and turned towards the sounds. Using my baton for balance, I genuflected on one knee and bowed my head.

“My Lord …” I whispered.

* * *

The noises stopped. I felt a looming presence in front of me, and it took every ounce of fortitude I had to stay put and not bolt away screaming. Never run from anything immortal - it just attracts their attention.

“I smell your terror, mortal … do you know who stands before you?” His voice sent tendrils of ice through my body. It was soft and dark and laced with the purest of evil.

“No, my lord … save you must be one of the Great Princes of Hell.”

The being chuckled. “Ahhh ... flattery will get you everywhere … I am no prince, but in the reckoning of the Abyss, I am a powerful Marquis. It is refreshing to see the proper forms of respect observed. Tell me, mortal … how come you by this knowledge? Are you a sorcerer?” There was an angry edge to his voice.

“No, my lord, I am not. I am a policeman. A ... sheriff. But I have known another of your kind.” I relaxed slightly. I was dealing with a major player here. Not one of the Big Three, but pretty high up on the totem pole. It was good he was talking with me; after all, talking is a helluva lot better than eating.

“Who?" The voice crackled with demand.

“Carreau, your lordship. I am … special … to him.”

I felt him circling me, the way someone would appraise a piece of fine art. Another chuckle. “Ahhh … the arriviste. Yes, I can see why … you are indeed quite striking and would attract his attentions … what is your name, mortal?”

“I am called Hawke, my lord.”

“Look at me, Hawke. I, Marchosias command it!”

I kept my head bowed. “I cannot, my lord. I am not worthy.” You don't look a demon – or in this case, a major-league fallen angel – in the face unless you can’t help it. Carreau was different – he’s more like a free-agent than anything else and he’s still got a lot of ties to the folks Upstairs. And even though it's still on the books, being gay isn't a real sin anymore.

* * *

Tony McLaren cuffed the two thieves and herded them down the alley and away from the … whatever. When they were about four blocks distant, he stopped.

He turned his attention to the smaller one. "Sit on the ground or I'll shoot you in the fucking head." He obeyed.

“What are you doing, man?” The taller of the two still was panic-striken as the officer pushed him face first against the wall with a powerful forearm.

"This." Tony unlocked the left cuff and pulled the young man’s left leg up from the ground. He fastened the steel around the ankle and pushed the incapacitated thief into a pile of garbage bags. The smaller thief was flamingo’ed in a similar fashion.

Calling dispatch and giving the location of the two, the powerfully muscled officer crept back to assist his partner.

* * *

I felt a hand grasp my chin – gently – and lift my head up. Marchosias had the same type of inhumanly handsome features as Carreau; but instead of the little bone-colored horns and dark hair, he had longer, black horns and a smooth head. The fallen angel had a well-trimmed beard and moustache that framed a sensuous mouth and slightly pointed ears. He also had the same rusty complexion. What was different was the eyes. Whereas Carreau shared the same brilliant, golden eyes as the Archangel Michael, Marchosias’ were infinitely black - black as sin - and had a harder, more determined cast. He also lacked the playful wickedness of the Lord of the Incubi.

Those dark orbs bored into my blue ones and a look of sadness quickly skirled across his face. I averted my eyes and pulled my head downwards again. “Please, your lordship … it is not proper…”

“Ahhh, Hawke … you bring back memories of my time with the Heavenly Host. Undoubtedly Carreau feels similarly when he gazes upon you. Unlike him, I will return to the Host one day.” The hand stroked my face.  

Whew... Unless Marchosias liked playing with his food before he ate it, I was safe. But going back Upstairs from Hell? This guy was mental.

I looked up at him again. “My lord, what brings you here? Who disturbed you?”

A look of disgust crossed his too-handsome face. “Some fool summoned me and thought himself a mage enough to control my actions. He wished me to kill his rival. Instead, I feasted upon him.” He nodded his head in the direction of the third perp's remains. “As I did upon that one. I was still a bit peckish.” He saw the look on my face and his brow furrowed.

“Does that offend you, Hawke?”

Uh-oh. “No, your lordship. I was chasing him for a robbery … now I'll need to fill out more paperwork.”

He looked strangely at me. Then he smiled. Then he began to chuckle. Then full blown gales of laughter filled the alley. It took a while for Marchosias to quiet down. He was still giggling when he spoke again.

"I have not laughed so much in ages, Hawke ... thank you for that extraordinary gift... Paperwork! I must remember that..." He tilted his head as if listening to something and then cocked an eyebrow at me.

“Your cohort has been spying on us, Hawke … shall I sate my remaining hunger upon him?”

Oh shit. Tony, you goddamned stupid, loyal sonofabitch. “Spare him, my lord. Please. He is still young and untrained. I will discipline him. Punish me in his stead.” I again bowed my head. Damn, damn, damn, damn ....

“Punish you? I jest, Hawke. That I will NOT. Provide him a fitting chastening ... but no more. I shall return to the Abyss. Until such time we meet again, young mortal...”

He again stroked my face again and he was gone.

* * *
I took a deep breath. Tony moved quietly into the alleyway. 

I got up from the kneeling position feeling like a 90-year old. The adrenaline rush was over - I just sat on a garbage can, leaned back against the brick wall and closed my eyes. I was too damn exhausted even to be angry at him. 

I was happy to still be breathing and in one piece. It took a lot of effort to even open my eyes and look at my partner.

"Tony, I gave you an order ... why the hell didn't you listen to me? You nearly got both of us killed."

"Charlie, who ... WHAT the hell was that? I see you kneeling down in front of a 7-foot tall red-skinned guy with horns and then all of a sudden he vanishes into thin air."

"Exactly. That, my little padawan, was a major-league fallen angel. A demon from Hell. He was gnawing on Malik - or what's left of him - when I came in. And he's considered to be one of the 'nicer' ones. His name is Marchosias - I'll have to look up his detailed stats."

 

"A demon? BULLshit!" Although he couldn't discount what he saw and not believe me. I think what really shook him up was that I was completely serious. 

I was too tired to argue with him. "He's not like Carreau. Someone called him up and couldn't control him. Whoever it was, he was the main course. Malik was the midnight snack. Apparently now he's heading home."

 
Tony gave me a puzzled look. "Who's Carrow?"

 
I pushed myself off of the can. "You called dispatch for pickup on the other two?" 

 
He nodded. "Good. I'll call this one in ... we're gonna have a long night at the precinct. I'll explain everything later. But right now, I need coffee." 

 
* * *
I’m introducing another type of story with this entry – “The Tableau” … it’s something I want to write, but doesn’t quite have enough meat … yet … to stand on it’s own. It’s a scene from a larger saga yet to be written.

To paraphrase from Animal Farm, “all demons are evil, but some are more evil than others.”  

Marchiosas here is created using CFX’s new “Marius” mask, with Carreau’s russet complexion and slightly longer horns. 

For my purposes, I place him in the “original set” of fallen angels and in the scheme of things, consider him more of the aristocratic “old money”-type of demon. I decided on giving this particular fallen angel a bit of an attitude – as evidenced by his slightly condescending reference to Carreau; despite the fact that he’s been Fallen for a longer period, he is a bit irked by the fact that Lust Incarnate outranks him (Duke vs. Marquis) and has a relationship with such a handsome, well-spoken and respectful mortal such as Charlie Hawke. Nevertheless, he can and does appreciate the young officer. After all, how could anyone - mortal or immortal -  NOT fall in love with Charlie?

Marchosias was one of the 72 demons mentioned in the Ars Goetia – the first section of the 17th century grimoire The Lesser Key of Solomon – and falls into the 'biddable' category. This particular fallen angel  is one of the Great Marquises of Hell, commanding thirty legions of demons. He is a strong and excellent fighter and very reliable to the conjurer, giving true answers to all questions. Marchosias hoped after one thousand and two hundred years to return to heaven with the non-fallen angels, but he is deceived in that hope.

After watching Dante’s Cove (which is one of most fun LGBT soap operas I’ve ever seen) and reading James Blish’s Black Easter, I had felt that “March” would be very similar behaviorally to the show’s “bad boy” Ambrosius Vallin:

Born in 1810, Ambrosius Vallin (played by William Gregory Lee) vanished from Dante’s Cove in 1840. Ambrosius’ mother, Emily, had groomed her sensitive, obedient son to marry Grace Neville, the presumptive Avatar of the Moon House in Dante’s Cove. But unbeknownst to him, Ambrosius was to be nothing more than a seed producer to be mated with and murdered by Dante’s Cove tradition. It would have happened that way if Ambrosius had been able to control his love and sexual urge for his butler, Raymond.

After Grace caught Ambrosius having sex with Raymond, she locked him away in the basement of the Hotel Dante and placed him under a curse that he would look old and ugly through all eternity until “the kiss of a young man” would set him free. Ambrosious was released from the curse by kissing Kevin 165 years later.

After Kevin freed Ambrosius, Ambrosius became obsessed with Kevin, luring him to the lighthouse for sex and even trying to kill Toby in order to get access to Kevin. With a stockpile of gold retrieved from his own grave, Ambrosius is rich, powerful, and darkly mysterious. He’s not an easy man to resist.

Ambrosius is the lone wolf who’s been burned too many times by humanity. A narcissist, he overestimates his own power and has an inexhaustible need for admiration. His interest in others lies primarily in how they can service his needs: the infinite craving for freedom, power and uncontrolled sex.

These needs were not born in him; they were created. Deep inside of him beats the heart of someone who once had hopes and dreams and desired love. But between constant concealment of his sexuality in nineteenth century society and being trapped in a dungeon for over 150 years, a passionate soul became the wild, wary animal that entwines sex, love and death as he roams the streets of Dante’s Cove.

At his core, Ambrosius is not fully evil. He doesn’t kill for enjoyment -- he doesn’t see himself as a villain, but sees himself as a person who deserves the happiness he’s been denied for so long. He couldn’t kill Toby when he had every reason to, and even the death of the two children weighs on him in his most private moments. He hasn’t lost complete respect for human life; his killing comes from necessity, to gain whatever he feels he deserves, not from pleasure. In another time and place he could have been a gentle, civilized man.

Ambrosius protects himself from self-hatred by cherishing a self-image as a man with no remorse, no true feelings. But in fact he does care deeply about Kevin. Drawn to Kevin’s innocence and loyalty, Ambrosius is torn between the need to possess him, and the overwhelming desire to protect him.

Nice bit of inner character turmoil, right?

The reader can see the same duality in Marchosias' behavior towards Charlie and later, Tony McLaren; he is gentle, but demanding of the young patrolman. And callous in devouring the thief that surprised him in the alley as well as the would-be sorcerer that summoned him. 

The "Big Three" that I mentioned are the three fallen angels (along with Satan) that cannot be summoned and will not appear until Armageddon. They are Beelzebub (Grand Minister), Lucifuge Rofocale (Prime Minister) and Put Satanachia (Commander in Chief)