Aragami: A Tale of the Previous Universe (Divine Protector Book 5) Read online

  “Is he susceptible to violent thoughts?”

  [Yes. His war injury has complicated his thought processes.]

  Serika smiled. It looked as if she would get this knocked out in one day. Martin would die and then her life (or afterlife) wouldn’t suck so much.

  Itsu made mo. Forever and ever.

  It was time to pay Robert Simons a visit.

  2

  After work, Martin met Betty and Samantha Atkins in front of the Yogurt Shack in Quail Springs. Betty’s best friend, Samantha was a stocky twenty-year-old of short brown hair and average features. Half the time Martin couldn’t even remember what she looked like. Nevertheless, the two young women were inseparable, leaving Martin jealous at times. It had been too long since he had felt that kind of kinship with anyone. Not since then…

  “Martin? Hello?” Betty snapped her fingers in front of Martin’s face, bringing him out of his funk.

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  She smiled at him. “Try to stay with us, OK?”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “I’m glad you decided to come out with us,” she said. “You always seem to be in some kind of funk.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Quit apologizing. You’re bumming me out. Try to have some fun with us.”

  He nodded. “OK. Sure.”

  “Now,” she said. “Where should we go first?”

  * * *

  The gods had the ability to project their consciousness to anywhere on Earth for the purposes of reconnaissance and guidance. They used this—along with Aogami—to watch people who were about to die and to provide guidance to the living. The latter wasn’t usually done by Shinigami, but there were many gods of different religions and some of them did this for the humans.

  Serika found Robert Simons exactly where Aogami said he would be under the overpass outside Quail Springs Mall. Emaciated, bald and probably smelling of shit, this was not the kind of person she would have associated with in life. She found herself immediately repulsed by him. Let’s just get this over with.

  “Robert,” she cooed. “Wake up, Robert.”

  His eyes jerked open. “Who said that?”

  “I’m God.” It wasn’t exactly a lie.

  He looked all around. She wasn’t physically there, so he couldn’t see her. “God’s a woman?”

  “I can be whatever I want. Today I feel like having a vagina.”

  He stared aghast at empty space. “What do you want?”

  She turned up the charm. “I need a favor from you. Can you do that for your Lord?”

  “W-What kind of favor?”

  Smiling, she replied, “It’s nothing, really. You just have to kill the Antichrist.”

  He perked up at this. “Antichrist?”

  “Yes. There’s a very bad man inside Quail Springs Mall right now.” She projected an image of Martin McDonnell into his mind. “He’s going to destroy the world if you don’t stop him.”

  He thought about it for a moment. “If I kill him, will you make the voices go away?”

  “Of course,” she said as sweetly as possible. She could actually feel her blood sugar rising. “Not only that, but I’ll make sure you get into Heaven.”

  “I just want the pain to stop.”

  “I’ll make it stop. I promise.” Robert pulled a hunting knife from his pocket and began looking at it with deadly seriousness. “Better keep that in your pocket until you find Martin McDonnell,” she advised.

  He nodded and hurried off.

  She returned to her body in Yomi and reclined in her chair in her office. The room itself was sparse, just a desk, chair and window which let in sunlight behind her. It looked like any other office in this realm—ugly tatami floor and brown paper walls. She saw no point in personalizing her own private hell.

  For the first time in a while, though, she felt at peace. Once Robert Simons finished the job, she would actually be happy.

  After all, everyone deserved happiness.

  Itsu made mo.

  * * *

  Martin, Betty and Samantha strolled through Quail Springs Mall, browsing the shops. Their first stop was Gameshop where they perused the latest videogames.

  “I’ve been wanting to play this,” Samantha said as she picked up Stanley Hizzard, Boy Wizard, a fantasy simulator where you played a boy at a school for wizards. It was based on a series of novels by some British author. Samantha loved that series, even going so far as to have a Stanley Hizzard lunchbox she brought to work every day. Martin was never really in to it; after all, a school for people with powers? That was just silly. So, he muttered something encouraging and turned his attention to McFadden 2020 which had just come out. He had long been into sports games (even though he didn’t play any sports in real life). He had fond memories of playing Basketball Jam on the Super Pretendo as a kid. Dunking those flaming balls had been incredibly satisfying.

  He eyed McFadden 2020 but decided not to buy it. As a new release, it was $59.99, and money was tight at the moment.

  Betty checked out their selection of J-RPGS. Japanese games weren’t as popular as they used to be due to a decline in quality and an increase in quality from their Western counterparts, but they still had a decent audience in the States.

  “Check this out, Martin,” she said, handing him the empty display case of a game called Rondo of Destiny 7. It had a spiky-haired protagonist on the cover. He reached over and, as he took hold, accidentally brushed her hand. An unexpected surge of pleasure rippled through him. She quickly looked away, embarrassed. Had her face turned red? No, it couldn’t be. He was certain she didn’t have any feelings for him.

  He shook his head. He didn’t need this. It was far better if he didn’t date anyone. At the end of the day, all it took was one stupid mistake to ruin everything.

  Samantha ended up getting Wizard Academy, while Martin and Betty left empty-handed. The three then left the store.

  * * *

  Robert Simons was on the hunt.

  Martin McDonnell.

  Martin McDonnell.

  Martin McDonnell.

  Martin McDonnell.

  Martin McDonnell.

  Martin McDonnell.

  Martin McDonnell.

  Martin McDonnell.

  Martin McDonnell.

  Martin McDonnell.

  All he had to do was kill the Antichrist and God would take away the voices. This had been his dream as long as he could remember since his injury. With McDonnell’s face burned into his brain, he would have no trouble finding his target.

  Like a killer cyborg sent from the future, he patrolled the corridors of Quail Springs Mall, his eyes scanning each and every face searching for McDonnell. These faces eyed him with fear and suspicion, but he barely noticed.

  Suddenly, God’s voice was in his head again. McDonnell’s on the second floor, heading for the escalator. Wait for him behind it at the bottom, then attack.

  He didn’t want to do this, but he was in hell and desperate to escape. “Understood.”

  * * *

  Serika sat behind her desk while her astral form kept a close eye on the happenings at Quail Springs Mall. Inwardly, she threatened to explode with glee. Simons was only minutes away from ending the life of Martin. All he had to do was strike home with that knife. What happened to the crazy bastard after that was none of her concern.

  She couldn’t wait.

  * * *

  Martin, Betty and Samantha found the escalator and headed down. Martin hadn’t bought anything, but that was OK; he hadn’t really come to shop anyway. Today was more about keeping his social life on life-support. He hadn’t really done much since the tragic incident. He often wondered if he even deserved to be happy; after all, what had happened was his fault. He blamed no one but himself.

  His internal ponderings ended when they got to the bottom. He stepped off and a throaty voice called out, “Martin McDonnell!”

  They turned around. A disheveled bum approached them with wild eyes locked on Mart
in. “Who are you?” Martin said.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes filled with sorrow. “I don’t want to do this, but God said she’d take away the pain.”

  Martin looked eyed, trying to find Mall Security. “She?”

  “Yes,” he said. “She felt like having a vagina today.”

  Martin crept back, trying to get the lunatic to get away from the girls. The man’s last sentence was eerie; where had Martin heard that joke before? “Let’s head to the food court and talk about God some more.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t. I have to carry out my mission before I lose my nerve.”

  Martin knew he was going to regret his next words, but… “What’s that?”

  To his horror, the man pulled out a jagged, rusty knife. “I have to kill you!”

  Betty and Samantha gasped in horror as the man charged in and began slashing frantically at Martin who leapt back, terrified. “Stop!” Martin desperately yelled.

  The man slashed again and again, each time hitting a little closer to home. On the sixth or seventh slice, Martin felt pain, but couldn’t look down to see the damage or else the lunatic might strike a fatal blow. Martin wanted to run like hell, but he was afraid the psycho would target the girls next.

  He decided he couldn’t just dodge forever. He needed to do something. So, without any further thought, he reached out and grabbed the arm holding the knife. The man eyed him maniacally as they struggled.

  For a moment, they remained locked in a deadly embrace. Then the madman kicked at Martin’s leg and he went tumbling onto his back. The assailant was now on top of him trying to force the knife into his chest. His insanity gave him almost superhuman strength, and Martin found himself losing the struggle. In a moment it would be over.

  Abruptly, however, one of the other mall patrons tackled the homicidal stranger to the ground, while another man wrestled the knife away from him. Martin sat up, his adrenalin flowing like Niagara Falls. His heart beat must have been in the hundreds.

  Betty and Samantha rushed over to see if he was all right, and only then could he look down at his midsection. Numerous gashes had been made in his clothing, but it looked like only one had drawn blood and it didn’t look too deep.

  Fortune had shined upon him this day. He was a McDonnell, after all.

  * * *

  Back in Yomi, Serika wanted to roar with rage. But without knowing who might be listening, she kept it inside. Still, she seethed.

  Martin McDonnell had survived. Robert Simons had fucked up. Her misery would continue for one more day.

  She couldn’t use any more assassins. This single attempt on his life would arouse too much suspicion as it was. Worse, Simons had been taken alive, which meant he could be interrogated. That would only add to the suspicion.

  She decided to take solace in the fact Simons was dangerously unhinged. The police would never believe a god had ordered the hit. And with no other leads, he would simply be convicted and locked up, end of story.

  Serika made her exit before any other deities showed up.

  * * *

  Mall Security held the psycho until police arrived. Martin was taken to the hospital and given stitches and a tetanus shot. He was then questioned by Detective Stephens, an ebony man at least six inches taller than him with graying hair. Martin told him everything that happened.

  “Do you have any idea who that man was?” Stephens asked.

  “I’ve never seen him before in my life.”

  “But he knew who you were.” He took notes as they talked.

  Martin shrugged. “He said God told him to kill me.”

  A barely perceptible laugh escaped Stephen’s lips. “God, huh?”

  Martin insisted, “The guy was nuts.”

  “We ran his fingerprints. His name is Robert Simons. Sound familiar?”

  Martin shook his head. “No.”

  “He spent much of his adult life battling brain damage. He disappeared about six months ago. Then tonight he shows up at the mall trying to kill you. Why?”

  Martin was getting agitated. “I don’t know. I’ve never met the guy before. Never.”

  “All right,” Stephens said. “I interviewed the two women you were with. They said pretty much the same thing as you. I assume you’ll want to press charges?”

  Martin nodded. “I guess so. This has never happened to me before.”

  Stephens assured him, “It’ll be OK. This guy’s locked up now. He won’t get another chance to hurt you.

  “Now, then. We’re going to interrogate him. We’ll be back with some answers, hopefully. Can we visit you at your work?”

  “Sure.”

  “All right, then. I know it sounds strange, but have a good night, Mr. McDonnell.”

  “Yeah.”

  Stephens turned to leave, and then stopped. “You seem familiar. Have we met before?”

  Martin shrugged. “Don’t know.”

  “Hmmm,” Stephens said. “McDonnell. I feel like I’ve heard that name somewhere before. Oh, well.” And with that, he left.

  3

  “I’ll ask you again. Why’d you do it?” Stephens said in the interrogation room at the police station. He had begun the questioning upon returning from the hospital.

  Robert Simons sat there, his hands shackled to the table. He looked absolutely miserable. “I told you. God told me to do it. She was going to take away the voices. They’re always arguing. I can’t take it.”

  Stephens groaned. They had been at this for a while now but hadn’t gotten anything concrete out of Simons. “Cut the crap. You can’t be that crazy. You knew exactly who you were looking for. Someone put you up to this, and it sure as hell wasn’t God. I want a name.”

  “It was God,” Simons insisted.

  Stephens charged in, stopping mere inches from Simons’ face. “You aren’t fooling anyone. This will go a lot easier if you cooperate. Right now, you’re looking at attempted murder. If you pull this shit in the courtroom, the judge will hold you in contempt.”

  Simons’ response, as it turned out, was to start bawling. He frantically searched the room. “God! Please, God! I’m sorry! I tried! Please take away the voices.” Hot tears poured down his face.

  Sighing, Stephens decided to end the session until he could get a doctor to evaluate Simons’ mental state. Maybe the bastard was crazy after all.

  But still… why Martin McDonnell?

  * * *

  Everyone vacated the interrogation room, leaving it empty.

  Except it wasn’t.

  Unbeknownst to those who had occupied it, there was someone else there. Her name was Mary, and she was a Shinigami Level 4.

  Scholars would argue a non-Japanese person couldn’t be a Shintoist, but the Shinigami didn’t care about such things. If one believed what they believed and lived life accordingly, one could become a god of death upon… well, death.

  She had astral-projected into the police station to observe the interrogation following the attempt on Martin McDonnell’s life. McDonnell had been under observation for quite some time because of his history, but no one had expected this.

  Mary had hoped to learn the truth behind this incident by coming here tonight, but instead there were only more questions. Robert Simons was obviously mentally unhinged, but she agreed with Stephens on this. Someone had influenced Simons to do this, but who? She had her doubts about the culprit being human. Unfortunately, that still left a lot of suspects.

  It was getting late. She decided to turn in for the night. She would tackle this head-on tomorrow.

  * * *

  Upon returning home, Martin raided his fridge for a beer. He guzzled the drink, welcoming the warming caress of alcohol.

  He sat down on his couch and watched TV. He paid absolutely no attention to it, however. All he could think about was fact he almost died tonight. Over and over he relived the image of that lunatic coming at him with the rusty knife. His nerves shot, he closed his eyes to drown out the memory. But that only
made the image come in clearer. This was the second worse night of his life.

  His thoughts eventually drifted back to the worse night of his life. The mistake. The one mistake that cost him everything.

  He downed the beer as fast as he could, wanting the elixir to erase his problems. When that failed, he cried himself to sleep on the couch.

  Tuesday

  4

  Martin managed to drag himself into work the next day. Everyone would have understood if he decided to take the day off. But without work to occupy his mind, he would have spent all day focusing on the dark thoughts.

  But that morning, as he sat at his station, he realized this wasn’t much better. Hung over, his head rang like a bell and it was all he could do to avoid puking.

  A booming voice suddenly called out, “Martin! Get yo’ stank ass up here.” It was OJ Hines, a longtime friend. He liked to protest against black stereotypes by acting like one in order to point out the absurdity of it all.

  Martin walked over to where he was standing. “Yeah?”

  “Some turkey’s here to see you,” he boomed, and Martin’s head threatened to collapse upon itself.

  OJ pointed to the break area where Detective Stephens stood. “Thanks,” Martin said weakly.

  Martin shook Stephens’ hand and they sat down at one of the tables. “We have met before,” Stephens said.

  “I take it you mean… that night?”

  “Yeah. I was there, remember?

  “I guess so. I try not to think about it.”

  “I’m sorry to have to meet again under such circumstances. Anyway, we interrogated Simons.”

  “And? What’d he say?”

  Stephens shrugged. “Just the same nonsense about God commanding him to kill you.”

  “Oh.” Martin was disappointed; he had hoped for some answers. “So, there’s nothing you can tell me?”

  “We’re having him evaluated to see just how crazy he is. But the bottom line is, I think someone put him up to it. I don’t think he’s capable of carrying out that attack on his own.”