Soul Census - War of Shadows - Book 1

Chapter 3.1 - Maggio's Tavern

Earth Date: 15th of August 1939 CE
Location: Nyack, New York, USA, Earth

The car screeched up to the curb and spit the two Census agents out before driving off. Maddock and Wolfe traversed the sidewalk of a sparsely populated area of Nyack.

Maddock looked at his watch—just past midnight. Despite the hour, he felt neither sleepy nor tired. What fatigue he would normally feel was erased by lingering thoughts of the episode at the house.

As he walked, he felt the burn in his leg from that demon snake’s fire venom. Those surreal events raised many questions in him: What were those demons doing with that pregnant woman? What was Tartarus? What was the demon talking about, and why did it refer to him as “the Guardian”?

Maddock looked at his superior’s back as he led him through Nyack’s quiet streets. Wolfe had said the demon was just trying to confuse and trick him, but he wasn’t buying it. For better or worse, Wolfe had a habit of keeping things from him until he felt Maddock was “ready” for it. He was going to make four-eyes talk eventually, one way or another.

As they walked, Maddock stared at the puddles under his feet. The moonlight loomed over the figure that stared back at him—a figure he could now gaze at without regret. Himself. Yet… who was this figure really?

Was he Willem Maddock? The former flying ace of the Great War, who’d come back to be greeted by the Great Depression with a dose of violence and starvation, then rescued by a secret organization called Census? Or was he Taylan Chagatai? The Mongol warrior turned assassin whose final victory was killing the Grand Master of the Teutonic Knights… to be consumed in the end by the Israeli desert as he fled?

With that thought, he realized he had uncovered more hidden memories.

Wolfe stopped and turned in front of some joint called Maggio’s Tavern. Maddock peered in through the window display to see what looked like an empty bar. Maybe if he was lucky, he could get some of that tasteless giggle water. On second thought, he might just settle for a glass of warm piss.

Wolfe graciously held the door open for him.

“How gentlemanly of you,” Maddock said. “You buying me a drink too, doll?”

Wolfe walked past him, letting the door close on Maddock. “I gave you a pistol, brass knuckles, and a scimitar sword,” Wolfe said. “You’re buying me a drink.”

Maddock chuckled as he followed him inside. Maggio’s looked like a typical juice joint. Beer steins decorated the valance above the cash register—no doubt serving some of that weak 3.5-percent giggle piss. Floors a dark wood. High walls with a paneled archway that opened into a dining room.

The place itself was empty, save for the barkeep who was putting chairs up on tables. When he saw them, he looked like he was going to shoo them off, but upon seeing Wolfe, his expression changed.

“Jerry?” the barkeep said.

Jerry? So Wolfe actually has—or had—a first name …

“Hello, Tom,” Wolfe said, giving him a handshake. Wolfe gestured toward Maddock. “This is Maddock,” he said.

“Oh, just Willem, Jerry… just Willem,” Maddock said mockingly.

“New recruit?” Tom said.

Wolfe gave a weary nod.

Tom motioned to a table in the dining area, and the two of them sat.

“A Krueger for you, friend?” Tom said.

“No, I’d rather have the stronger bathtub brew,” Wolfe said, then looked at Maddock. “Make it two of them, please.”

Tom nodded and walked off, disappearing into the back.

“Well, tonight was not quite the duck soup I expected,” Wolfe said.

Maddock snorted. “Glad I was able to prove the Director wrong.”

“Director Black was not wrong about everything.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Wolfe stayed tight-lipped.

The bartender returned with their drinks before Maddock could press him.

“On the house,” Tom said.

Wolfe shook his head. “You’re going to go bankrupt from generosity, Tom.” He tilted his head toward Maddock. “He’s paying.”

“In that case, twelve cents when you’re done, Willem,” Tom said before walking off.

Maddock picked up the short glass, and a sniff told him all he needed to know. “That’s strong-smelling stuff,” he said with a big grin. “Isn’t this going against some Census Agency rule or something?”

Wolfe held the drink up before answering, “You’re confusing Census with the law. We are not the police; we don’t have the same rules. Do you really think a copper would be allowed to walk around with a scimitar? Besides, this stuff has been legal for years now.”

Maddock blinked. “Years?”

“Six of them,” Wolfe said.

It was then it dawned on Maddock. Although he had spent only months in the Soul Sphere, six years had passed from the time he was drafted on Earth.

Maddock raised his drink. Wolfe knocked glasses with him before he got a sip.

“To your first mission,” Wolfe said.

Wolfe gulped half his drink while Maddock took a sip. It was strong, dry, and lemony.

“Not bad,” Maddock said. “I taste gin in it.”

“Yes, it’s called a gin fizz,” Wolfe said.

Maddock was hoping to get Wolfe sozzled so he could get him to spill something useful. To his surprise, though, Wolfe opened up without any coaxing: “I am sure the things that happened at that house have left you with many questions, and understandably so.”

“You got that right, bub,” Maddock said.

“Good. Maybe you will be in the mood to listen better than you did in all those orientation briefings you ignored. As you likely don’t remember, there is a group of spirits on the other side called—”

“The Elder Quorum,” Maddock interrupted. “That’s what that crazy bitch called it.”

“Yes, that’s correct. As you may realize, the Census Agency’s mandate is a complex one. You already know that we are helping the Elder Quorum round up all of the lost souls created by the crash of the Soul Sphere onto Earth—”

“The Rapture,” Maddock cut in.

Wolfe looked surprised.

“See? I do listen sometimes,” Maddock said, sipping his drink.

“A donkey can listen,” Wolfe said. “Retention is the only thing that might separate you from one.” Wolfe paused as if studying Maddock’s reaction. “Interesting,” he said finally. “I expected you to flare up from that.”

“You’re boring me, Jerry,” Maddock said.

“Fine,” Wolfe said. “Anyhow, as I said, Census’s mandate is complex. We track down and liberate lost souls, and we extradite demons and other intruders into our plane, among other things I’ll get into another time.”

Wolfe took his spectacles off, laying them on the table. He rubbed his glassy eyes before continuing, “You know about the Rapture, but not its effects and what caused it—what caused the Soul Sphere to crash in the first place. The impact was catastrophic for souls everywhere. Millions died, which by itself isn’t so bad. But many did not just die.”

Wolfe took a sip of his drink, and his expression lost its levity.

“They were damaged …” he continued. “Twisted into something else—demons. It was done by the Caretaker of the Soul Sphere at the time, who deliberately crashed the Soul Sphere—starting this whole mess. You see, he was …” Wolfe paused, as if searching for a word. “Manipulated,” he went on. “Foolishly manipulated into it by a rebellious group within the Spirit Realm, called the Circle of Medusa.”

“Wait,” Maddock said. “That demon mentioned something about a tree—what is this tree?”

“The Sacred Tree,” Wolfe said. “It’s a beautiful thing.” He stared off in thought for a moment, an odd expression on his face. Is he drunk already?

Maddock snapped his fingers in front of him. “You were saying?”

Wolfe grimaced. “Let’s just say the Tree is both a living and a spiritual force that connects the Soul Sphere to every living thing and manages the Cycle… the whole reincarnation process. It also gives us some of our abilities. This Circle of Medusa group wants to destroy it.”

“Why?” Maddock said.

“If they destroy the tree, they end the Cycle and cripple the Census Agency. They are intent on stopping all reincarnation for good. Do not ask me why. Their version of rational thinking is what we would consider insanity.”

“All right,” Maddock began. “Forget the why then. How do they plan on doing this?”

“Unfortunately, the how is why we are so busy in Census,” Wolfe said. “You see, CLOG events can basically… clog the reincarnation pipeline. If we don’t stop the CLOGs quickly enough, it can sabotage the Soul Census.”

Wolfe stopped to finish his drink. Then he motioned for Tom to bring him another.

“But we fear there may come a day when we can’t stop them all. Eventually they may create so many CLOG events at once that we won’t be able to respond to them in time.”

Maddock waved his hand. “Wait a second, mac—I know you told me this once before, but why are these events called CLOGs?”

Tom dropped off another drink for Wolfe. He downed half of it before saying another word.

“Cycle Locking Obstruction of Geotransmigration,” Wolfe said matter-of-factly. “To create harder CLOGs, they bring powerful demons into this world by masquerading them as normal reincarnations.”

“Ah, so that was it,” Maddock said. “That’s what we stopped in that house—the pregnant lady was giving birth to a demon?”

“Basically, yes,” Wolfe said. “She was giving birth to a normal baby that would have had a normal soul. But instead it would be possessed by a very powerful demon—one of the two hundred most powerful. The last two hundred souls on the Soul Census tally. Our job is to stop them and prevent the end of days from coming.”

“End of days?” Maddock said. “You’re sounding too much like Sunday school now. I don’t believe in any of that crap.”

Wolfe leaned forward. “With all the things you’ve seen, you still have trouble believing things, Maddy?”

Maddock opened his mouth but could not think of a comeback.

“Religious scripture does have a lot of man-made dogma,” Wolfe said. “But they also hold some element of truth. Things that leak out from our soul memory and get spilled onto parchment.”

Maddock heard a beeping sound from somewhere. Wolfe pulled back his sleeve and looked at his watch, and the expression on his face darkened.

“What is it?” Maddock said.

“Looks like our night isn’t over,” he said. “We have another CLOG event already. Very odd …”

“What?” Maddock said.

“It’s literally down the road from here,” Wolfe said. “There is more I needed to tell you, but it will have to wait.”

Wolfe took a gulp of his drink and slammed the empty glass down as he stood up.

“Finish that, Agent,” he said. “And pay the barkeeper like a good date. As Sherlock Holmes would say, there is something afoot here. Let’s go.”