Lines of Shadow: Sequel to Somewhere Between

I bring this to you late and unbetad as always. If you find any mistakes, I'm terribly sorry and will try to make it up to you with steamy smut…

And is anyone else completely annoyed with the ads that won't go away? Is fan fic just completely selling out or am I going crazy? Augh...

- John

Within two hours, we're on a plane headed east. Blue managed to coerce the general into letting him come along, but he's only allowed to stay until another case pulls him away. I'm not sure how, but Red manages to get me to play poker with the two of them. It's almost an exercise in futility since I always know when Red's bluffing, he always knows when I'm bluffing, and we can't hide anything from Blue.

A few of the agents Blue brought along get into the game and that helps a bit. After a while, we're tossing around tiny bets and a lot of bullshit. It's nice to be part of a group again, even if it's just for a little while. Blue's current agents are friendly and comfortable with Red and me. Guess they got lucky when they brought in this group. We've definitely more than our fair share of agents with shitty attitudes.

One of the agents finishes telling some kind of filthy joke and HB throws his head back to laugh. I smile at his reaction. It's been too long since we've been in the company of friends.

"Then you should come visit more often," Blue says softly.

I fold my hand and toss it on the table. It was crap anyway. "Yeah, we're just kind of worried that we won't be entirely welcome. I mean, we did just take off and let the Bureau fend for itself."

Red hasn't noticed the conversation Abe and I are having. I'm sure he'd have thrown something in if he had. I roll my eyes to the ceiling when I realize that he's telling an even filthier joke than the one Agent Arnold just told. I ignore it and turn back to Blue.

"You and Hellboy were free to leave as you saw fit. You were not prisoners of the Bureau," Blue supplies as he tosses a fifteen-cent raise on the table.

I nod, "I know, but Red's kind of held up the operation since it was founded…"

"And I feel I have done an adequate job as a replacement. Honestly John, you did leave with the stipulation that we could call Red if we uncovered something we couldn't handle."

True, we did. I, however, was not included in the stipulation and that was the one point that HB made VERY clear. Of course, the Bureau hasn't asked for his help once. HB tries to act like it doesn't bother him.

"Should we start calling him for old time's sake? I'm sure he'd be happier if he had more to do," Blue offers in a near whisper, obviously not wanting Hellboy to overhear.

I watch Red finish his joke and slap Agent Arnold's back as they laugh together. Red always complained that being stuck at the Bureau with nothing to do was a form of torture, but being stuck at our house with nothing to do isn't much of an improvement. Same problem, different cage.

"Might not be a bad idea," I respond.

Abe scoops the cards off the table and does a quick shuffle and deal. Red flashes a goofy grin in my direction when he picks up his new hand. I smirk back, knowing he turned over something good. My guess would be a three of a kind or better. I slide my cards off the supply crate we've been using as a table. Best I've got is a pair of fours and the deal doesn't make it much better.

"Fold," I grumble, dropping my hand.

"You know this is a game about bluffing, right?" Red teases me.

"Oh hush," I grouse with little conviction.

I get up and nudge Red's arms out of the way so I can climb into his lap. We get settled quickly. Red lays his stone hand against his knee so he can support my back and I turn my face into his side. He doesn't pause when it gets to be his turn, throwing some change on the table.

"Raise ya thirty cents."

One of the agents snickers and annoyance quickly covers my desire to nap. He'd better not be laughing at me. Before I can even get a glare ready, Red asks him, "What?" in a tone I know is a warning.

I roll my head to the side so I can watch the agent's reaction. He's smiling, clearly not intimidated.

"Nothing, man. It's just cool how he doesn't even have to say anything to you and you know what he wants. I never know what my girlfriend wants and she always gets pissed off cause I'm not a mind reader," he explains cheerfully, dropping his hand onto the table. "Two pair, nines high. What've you got?"

The other agent tossed his hand, "Not much."

Unless Abe's got something awesome, HB's won this hand. Almost on cue, Blue hums and sets his hand on the table, "I believe I have lost."

"I'm not a mind reader, that's more Abe's thing. You just get to know somebody after fifty-two-"

I correct him, "Fifty-three."

"Yeah, and I've had to put up with that all fifty-three years too," Red says with a smirk. "By the way, I've got a straight flush, so read 'em and fuckin' weep." He scoops up the change and piles it in front of him with a self-satisfied chuckle.

Since I'm not being verbally attacked after all, I turn my face into Red's ribcage and let myself drowse. It's not long before the deep rumbling of his voice puts me to sleep.

- HB

We land in Cairo in the middle of the day. I guess it'll be a while before we can get out there… Like I know what the hell we're looking for. 'Scout doesn't seem to know either. The only information we've got is that Michael left something in Cairo. Talk about finding a needle in a haystack except we don't know which haystack it's in, we're not even sure if we're on the right farm. Hell, we don't even know if we're really looking for a needle!

Fuck the haystack metaphor… it's pissin' me off.

"So, what now?" I ask once the pilot has reappeared from the cockpit and we're all standing around looking at each other like a bunch of idiots.

For a second or two, nobody's got an answer. 'Scout is the first one to move. He goes to the supply cabinet and pulls out a communications box, sticking the speaker-bud in his ear. "I'm going to start looking," he states.

I take the other half of the equipment automatically when he holds it out, even though I'm thinkin' I really don't want him going anywhere without me. I state the obvious, hoping it'll help, "But we don't even know what the hell we're looking for."

He gets the wireless mic fastened to his shirt. When he turns it on, the other speaker squeals in the box I'm holding. I'm glad I didn't have that thing jammed in my ear. "Maybe it'll jump out at me, I don't know. Michael had to have a way for us to find it."

"Or he forgot to tell you everything because he was busy being assassinated." I get a look for that. Poor choice of words I guess. I try to remedy it with, "I'm just sayin'…" Stupid… like that'll get me anywhere.

Blue jumps in, "Hellboy is right."

"I am?" I can't keep the surprise out of my voice. Has Abe ever said that out loud before? I'm pretty certain it's a first.

"We have no way of knowing whether or not Michael managed to get the entire message across. Even if it does 'jump out at you', as you put it, we cannot even be sure if the artifact is safe."

'Scout eyes both of us with annoyance. "So basically you don't think I can handle it," his statement is edged. I know better than to respond to that one honestly.

Abe, on the other hand, is as blunt as always, "It does concern me. You should wait until late in the evening so we can provide you with backup."

'Scout's posture changes slightly. As he straightens up and sets his jaw, I inhale through my teeth and lean closer to Abe so I can mutter, "Nice work pissin' him off. Say something about his lack of experience next."

Sarcastic? No, not me.

Abe waves his hands, "That is not how I meant it. I just think we should be cautious."

"Forget it," John snaps.

He unholsters his gun and slides the clip out to check his rounds. Nothing annoys Boyscout more than someone telling him he can't do something. Now there's no way I'll be able to talk him into staying here.

I grab his elbow and pull him to me, brushing some of hair out of his face, "Be careful, alright?"

"No, I was thinking more along the lines of marching into hell to start a fight," he wants it to be snarky, but I see the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

I grin too, "Sounds awesome. Bring me back a souvenir."

Dave, the shorter agent who has a shitty poker face, slaps Arnold on the shoulder and mentions, "We could go with him."

Sounds good to me, but if I want decent sex anytime today, I'll have to tell them no. "Trust me, if it's something 'Scout can't handle, you two will be way out of your league."

"Let them tag along," 'Scout says. "It'll make you feel better."

I snort and scrub my hand through 'Scout's hair so it's standing up at all angles, smiling when he tries to fix it. "Yeah, sure."

The agents take a few minutes to dress down and gather their gear. Abe and I move to the back of the plane so they can open up the cargo door without us being seen. Light floods the bay and the heat hits us a second later. Growing up on Area 51, I know hot summers, but this is so much worse than that.

I shield my eyes with my flesh hand and grunt, "You're going to need some lotion or something 'cause you'll be one shriveled fish in this heat."

"It'll cool down by nightfall," Abe responds.

'Scout's voice comes from the front of the plane. The alarm I hear in it makes me grab my gun, "Sir, this landing strip is off limits. You can't be here."

"Welcome to Cairo," is the response. His accent is thick, but I don't have any trouble understanding him.

Oh shit.

I duck behind a crate, but Abe doesn't move. "What the hell, Blue? Get down!" I hiss at him.

"It's not human," he says quietly, not tearing his eyes from the door.

"What?"

"I can feel the death on him," Abe barely whispers.

That's enough for me. I bust out of hiding and aim my gun at the guy standing at the base of the loading ramp. Ignoring John's stunned expression I yank him behind me and out of harm's way. "You lost?" I practically growl at the intruder.

Abe's agents take the hint and dart for cover. They follow my lead, aiming their pistols at him.

"Red, what the hell-" John starts but shuts up when I give his arm a slight squeeze.

The guy looks normal: tan, dark hair, slacks and a button down, but I've learned that evil can come in a lot of packages. He holds his hands up in surrender, his expression staying weirdly pleasant. "Relax my friends. Michael told me to expect you."

John sticks his head out from behind me, "Michael told you? Did he leave an artifact of some kind with you too?"

That's cool, 'Scout, show all our cards to the guy we don't know… I let out an exasperated sigh.

"Yes, he made me the keeper of his greatest weapon, but please… let's not talk here," he says with a smile, motioning at us as he leaves the ramp. "We should go to my shop."

Is this guy dense? It's broad-fuckin' daylight out there, we're not going anywhere. 'Scout quirks an eyebrow at me, clearly thinking the same thing.

"Uh, excuse me?" 'Scout yells as he tails after him.

I snag the back of 'Scout's shirt before he gets too far. I don't like this and I don't want John too close to this guy. Abe is still standing at rigid attention, his hand resting on his pistol. He's reading some weird shit here and I'm inclined to follow Abe's gut on almost anything.

The Egyptian turns at the bottom of the ramp, looking up at us, "Don't worry. I'll be able to shield your appearances from any prying eyes."

"Yeah, that's not really what I'm worried about."

'Scout backs up against me so I can let go of his t-shirt. At least he's caught on to what the rest of us already know: there is something seriously wrong with all of this.

"How the hell are we supposed to know that you work for Michael? We just supposed to take your word for it?" I ask sharply.

"Ah, I understand your concern. I do not work for Michael, we are friends."

"You are not an angel," Abe finally breaks out of his 'deer in the headlights' thing. "You are shrouded in death."

His grin is fucking creepy. I feel 'Scout shiver in response and I wrap an arm around his waist. The Egyptian moves towards us slowly which is about the only thing that keeps me from pumping him full of lead. Out of the blue, the door to the plane starts closing on its own. Nobody is anywhere near the controls and the pilot is hiding behind the equipment crates. I doubt that's a good sign.

"Let's just clear this up now, shall we?" he says in a low voice.

My finger tightens on the trigger of the Samaritan. It's so quiet on the plane that I can hear the internal springs coiling up. I blink and the Egyptian is gone, replaced by this dog-monster that's a head taller than I am. He's got black fur and long, sharply pointed ears that add another foot to his height. He's not a werewolf, wolves can't change that rapidly and I've never seen one that walks upright on its back legs.

To my left, I catch one of the agents whisper, "Holy Mother of God."

"No," the dog-thing says. I have no idea how the fuck he's talking with a snout so long, but he doesn't seem to have any trouble. "I am not part of Jehovah's work, and if you shoot me Hellboy, things are going to get very ugly." He bears his teeth a little to prove his point.

I loosen my hold on the trigger. If he was going to attack, he'd have done it by now… right? "What are you?"

John elbows me in the ribs, but I still think it's a legitimate question.

"I am Anubis, judge of souls and, though you may not believe me, Michael is my friend."

In a heartbeat, he's a man again. It's almost like changing scenes in a movie, in a fraction of a second, everything is different. He doesn't morph, or shift, or change shape at all. One minute he's a giant-ass jackal and the next he's a regular guy. I have GOT to learn how to do that.

"I hate to break it to ya' pal, but Michael is dead," it's probably not particularly tactful, but I hate to beat around the bushes.

John steps forward, "He sent us to get the artifact he left in your care. Hopefully it can help us defeat the man who killed him."

Anubis's expression darkens. His lip curls briefly before something a little closer to sorrow takes over. "Did you see his attacker? Could you describe him to me?"

I look to Boyscout 'cause I haven't heard this either. He chews his lip and I reach up to run a thumb across his mouth, "Quit." He does, fiddling with a loose string on the hem of his shirt instead. I know what he saw freaked him out bad, but watching him fidget when somebody asks him about it lets me know exactly how bad it was. The thing that killed Michael scares the hell out of John.

"He was the same height and build as Michael… they looked a lot alike actually, but he had black hair… right before he… before he killed him, Michael called him 'brother'," John explains, raising his eyes from the floor to study Anubis's reaction.

"Brother," Anubis echoes. "That's not good. We have to go, now."

The cargo door reopens and when 'Scout glances back at me, he does a double take. His eyes go so wide I can see the white all the way around his irises.

"What?" I finally ask.

"You look…"

"Normal," Abe supplies.

I'm going to throw some choice words at him, but stop when I see him. Abe looks like a tall, bald, white guy… What the fuck. I don't have time to wonder what I've changed into 'cause Anubis is yelling at us.

"Come along, it's just an illusion. We can't waste any more time."

Even with the illusion, a large group of people practically running through what seems like a marketplace tends to draw some eyes. Most of Cairo is pretty industrialized but the area he takes us through is a long way from the hotels and internet coffee shops. This place is a little closer to the roots of the city. As we hurry through, I spot vendors with handmade rugs and some kind of fruit I couldn't even begin to name and all kinds of pottery.

It's weird being outside during the day, especially surrounded by all these people. Anubis has to wave a few of the vendors off who are particularly persistent, talking at them loudly in some form of Arabic (I think). The farther we get from the airstrip, the more people there are. I was wondering why we couldn't take a car, but it would be really hard to get anywhere on these streets if you weren't walking. People are elbow to elbow trying to get around. Somebody bumps into my stone arm and I know the illusion doesn't hide the feel of it. The guy gives me a strange look as he passes.

I reach over to grab 'Scout's hand so I don't lose him in the crowd. He tightens his fingers around mine, but never stops scanning our surroundings. I doubt he's looking for threats. This is the first time 'Scout's been in Egypt so there's a hell of a lot for him to take in. This area is primarily old (or made to look old) architecture with wooden latticework windows and pointed archways. Everything is tan and I mean everything, walls, cement, people's clothes, curtains, awnings… Here and there are bright colors, but mostly, this town is the color of dust.

Anubis leads us out of the crowds and down a much quieter side alley. I look over my shoulder to make sure our numbers didn't get scattered in the hoard. 'Scout's next to me, Abe's right behind us and maybe a little worse for wear, and his two agents emerge from the main street a second or two later. Good. We stop at a door with chipping blue paint that's got faded sign hanging over it. No idea what it says.

Blue follows the words with his hand, moving it in an arc through the air as he reads, "Antiques and Collectables."

"You sell antiques?" I ask as Anubis unlocks the door. "Seems kinda' wrong since you're older than most of the shit you sell."

"You have to find something to do with eternity. Today it's antiques, tomorrow I'll work for a library, and the next day I'll try being a firefighter," he says lightly and shoves the door open with his shoulder.

Inside, it's much cooler. Abe opens a bottle of water and dumps it over his head before he steps in with us. Apparently I wasn't too far off about him drying out. "You gonna be okay?"

He nods, either not wanting to make a big deal out of it or not wanting to talk about it. I'm okay either way as long as he doesn't need a large tank of water anytime soon. Agent Arnold uncaps another bottle of water and hands it off to him.

We all spread out through the store while Anubis starts pushing some boxes around. There's a lot of regular, touristy stuff in his shop, but there's a few real items too. The older stuff looks like it's in better shape than the artifacts you normally see in museums. They're marked so astronomically high that I doubt he actually sells them.

John runs his finger across a statue of some kind of chick with a lion head and asks, "So what exactly did he leave with you? You said it was a weapon, but how will we know how to use it?"

I hear a safe clang open before Anubis answers, "You won't need to know."

'Scout and I exchange looks. What the hell could possibly considered Michael's most powerful weapon when you don't need a manual? My mind lists off a few possibilities, but nothing that seems like it could help us take on Michael's crazy brother. I never even saw Michael fight, but I could feel the power radiating off of him when he came to gather up Demegov so the brother's gotta be worse. Not to mention that Anubis freaked out on us when John said he was related. He knows something we don't and I'm getting real sick of secrets.

Anubis comes around the corner holding a small golden disk delicately with both hands. It's raised in the middle and engraved with some kind of white metal. The patterns on the surface are so intricate that there's no way a man made it. Inlaid along the edges are a series of large gemstones that look like they're each worth a house in Beverly Hills. Other than that, its looks like a mini metal Frisbee. What the hell?

"That's it?"

'Scout doesn't share my complete lack of excitement, "What does it do?"

Anubis lays it very carefully on his checkout counter and takes a step back. Everyone else sorta' fills the space he vacated, trying to get a better look at the Frisbee. Abe ghosts his hands over the disk, never quite touching it. Seriously, am I the only one not impressed with this thing?

"This is the Living Armor of Elohim, given to Michael by God himself to help him combat Sammael's armies."

My head snaps up at the painfully familiar name, "Wait, like the ugly bastard I fought in New York?"

Please tell me that thing is dead. I really don't want to deal with a repeat of that. Abe pulls his hands away and straightens up, going off on his usual spout of book stuff, "The hound of resurrection was named after the archangel Sammael as a sort of homage to the-"

"Yeah, skip ahead. I don't have to fight that thing again, do I?"

"You fought the hound of resurrection?" Anubis asks, his eyebrows arching in what I hope is amazement.

Before I can say anything, Blue continues, "Sammael is another name for Lucifer, Hellboy. This armor was made to help Michael combat Satan."

The fancy Frisbee? Seriously?

Out of the corner of my eye, I see 'Scout pick the disk up and spin it between his hands. Like he knows exactly what it's for, he swings it over his head and presses it firmly between his shoulder blades. His wings shoot out of his back, knocking a few relics over. The disk spins and clicks softly and all those little intricate lines start coming apart.

Bands of metal come out of the tiny hunk of metal like Newton (or whoever it was) never discovered physics. The bands snap around John's body into layers, working their way down his chest and across his arms and legs. More metal sprouts from the bands, forming complex grieves and gauntlets and shoulder gear. A helm snaps together across his face, the white metal crawling into scrawling shapes on the surface. It works across his wings very last, covering the main bone past the joint where his wings turn back down. Small pieces of white and gold fabric unroll to drape across his feathers.

When it's done, nobody says a thing. 'Scout rolls his shoulders and flexes his wings a little, clearly feeling out the armor. It looks bulky but it moves with him like fabric. I'm already wondering how the hell we're supposed to get it off of him.

"Whoa," I say, not sure what else there is to say. "Okay, cool. Now how do we take it off?"

Anubis completely ignores me, "It's good that the armor accepted you. Michael said it would."

Pieces are starting to fall together in my head. Michael planned this all along. When he was standing there talking about how I deserved to have my lover returned to me, he was really just trying to figure out how to cover his ass. He made John, so that means he and John have the same power signature. I'd bet nobody else can use this fucking armor. And if John's the only one that can wear it, he's the one who has to do the fighting.

No fucking way. 'Scout's pretty good, he's got great aim and decent reflexes, but this is WAY beyond him. And if it's not, I want to know where he's been hiding all this extra talent. If the stories are anything to go by, Michael was the greatest battle angel God ever created and this brother of his picked him off like he was a kid with a sharpened stick, right? Even without the armor, Michael should've been able to mop the floor with his brother's face.

John tucks his wings close to his back and the helm snaps back out of the way as he turns. His eyes are solid white, like they were when we were fighting the banshee. After a second, the white fades. Guess I'm just going to have to get used to that.

"How'd you know it'd do that?" Agent Arnold asks.

"I…" John starts, his brows knitting together. "I don't really have a way of explaining it that doesn't sound crazy."

"It spoke to you," Abe supplies seamlessly.

A lot of ancient artifacts can do that, as weird as that sounds. Usually, it's artifacts with some seriously bad mojo that need a human body to shuttle them around. In this case, I don't think that's it. Abe and I have both encountered it before in good and bad stuff.

"Remember that spear in Yugoslavia?" Abe mentions.

I'd rather not. That was an ugly case. I nod, cringing slightly. 'Scout gives me a funny look and I explain, "Before your time."

Anubis disappears into a back room, coming back a moment later with a very large mirror. He leans it against an unoccupied wall. We all watch him, but nobody asks what it's for. I'm figuring he'll explain in a minute… or he's a little vain, who knows.

John gets back to the business at hand, his Quantico training kicking in. He always focuses on the details, wanting to know as much as he can about a mission before he sets out. This is why he always took notes during our briefs and I usually slept. "You seemed to know who I was talking about when I described Michael's attacker. What do you know about him?"

"Much like yourself, I only know stories. Michael's brother was the angel of knowledge. Because he knew all the secrets of the cosmos, he began to wonder why they had to obey Jehovah."

I get a sinking feeling in my guts, "Are we talkin' about Lucifer?"

Anubis meets my gaze, "He always wanted the key to the Abyss, but wasn't willing to risk taking yours. It has been foretold that you are the one to slay him-"

"Enough of this prophecy bullshit!" I cut in, trying not to yell and failing miserably.

Anubis doesn't falter. "It's not a prophecy, it was been Seen. No one can escape fate, Anung un Rama, not even you. This is why Michael risked so much to put you on Lucifer's path. He needs you to save humanity," the volume of his voice rises with each word and he changes into his true form, towering over me. He's trying to intimidate me but it's not working. "So stop acting like a child," he growls.

I glare up at him, curling my stone hand into a fist. My urge to deck him is really hard to ignore. Dirty son of a-

"Both of you quit!" 'Scout yells. "If Lucifer has the key to hell, won't he be trying to use it?"

We stare each other down for another second before Anubis breaks away, "You're right. We need to get to Eden before he can open the gates."

"It's at least a few hours fly time from here-"

"We've already wasted so much time. No, we'll have to travel through shadow. And you," he looks at John and points at the mirror, "will have to learn to use some of the abilities Michael gave you."

Boyscout stares at the mirror with wide, skeptical eyes, "What exactly do you expect me to do with that?"

"You can't walk through shadows, so you'll have to use one of the other angelic staples for transportation."

"Mirrors?"

"Yes," Anubis talks as he gathers a few things: a staff with some kind of blade at the end, another, slightly smaller mirror, a big piece of black cloth, and an Ankh necklace that he slips over his head. "They can use them to talk, travel, read people's thoughts…"

"Talk about invasion of privacy," I chuckle a little. It's my nerves talking, but it's not the fight I'm afraid of…

"I'm fairly certain that doesn't apply," one of Abe's agents tries to argue with me.

I roll my eyes, "It was a joke."

"So, how will I know how to get there?"

Anubis wraps the second mirror in the cloth and starts switching off lights. The windows are high up on the walls and very narrow, so it gets pretty dark. "I'll take a mirror ahead to help guide you through, but if Lucifer is already in the garden, we'll have to act fast. How good are you at following directions?"

"I used to work for the US government," John says, a smile playing on his lips. I don't think Anubis gets it. He stares at 'Scout blankly until he adds, "I'm really good at it."

"Alright. Then wait here, but keep your hand on the mirror."

John touches the glass, the metal of the gauntlets clicking softly. As Anubis hands the mirror to Abe and grabs up his weapon, I cross over to 'Scout. The armor is much more detailed up close. It would be beautiful if it wasn't hanging on my lover like a death sentence.

"I don't like any of this," I whisper against his ear.

John rubs his face against my chest, murmuring back, "We don't have much of a choice." He looks up at me, his blue eyes catching what little light there is. They used to be brown…

I heave a sigh and kiss his forehead. "I know."

"I'd recommend that your human agents stay here. I'm afraid they won't be much good against Lucifer," Anubis says frankly, waving Dave and Arnold back.

Shorty looks relieved, but I'm starting to peg Arnold as a bit of a daredevil. He shoves his gun back into its holster with a grumble I didn't catch. When I glance back at 'Scout, I only manage a half smile before a hand on my jacket yanks me into complete darkness.

- TBC

And so the plot thickens some more… might be turning into more of a paste than soup… Never mind, stupid joke. Hope to have the next update to you soon.