The Daemonicon Chapters: Books 1 - 3

by Ryland Thorn

  Jack studies the tar man as if he is repulsive to look at, as if he smells awful. Jack still wants to pound the man into pulp with his fists, but at least now he has something to work with.

  “Good enough,” he grunts. “For now.” He turns away from the loathsome fiend in the chair and sheathes his blades as he heads for the cell door. In Jack’s mind there is only one course of action to take. They know where to look for the sorcerer and the Daemonicon. To not follow such a lead would be a folly of a magnitude beyond anything Jack can conceive.

  Lennox is of a similar mind. She follows Jack as if there is no real decision to make. Even Madame Brigette accepts that the tar man has given enough, at least for the moment. She offers Rayce a final look filled of venom, then turns to join Jack and Lennox at the cell door.

  The atmosphere outside of the cell is markedly different from within. Inside it is cloying and cramped, the air filled with the leftover vapor of dissolving demon spawn mixed with the odor of charred flesh. The hate and rage and revulsion are so intense they almost have a physical presence.

  In contrast, even though the wider interrogation room is filled with Brothers and their equipment, it feels open and peaceful. Almost relaxed despite the severity of Deedee’s expression.

  If the need hadn’t been so pressing, Jack might have paused just to breathe air untainted by the tar man’s madness and malice. As it is, he sweeps past Deedee without any delay.

  Or at least, that is his intent.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” the old woman snaps.

  It is enough to bring Jack to a halt.

  “You heard him,” he grunts.

  Deedee studies him closely. “Yes I did. Did you hear me tell you to follow up? To check out those locations he mentioned? No, you did not. Why do you think that is?”

  Jack has no interest in answering Deedee’s questions. All he cares about is finding the sorcerer and the Daemonicon. Yet Deedee is the leader of the Brotherhood and worthy of his respect. Instead of ignoring her and continuing on his way, he glares at her and waits for her to speak.

  “You didn’t hear me tell you to check those locations because I didn’t tell you to check those locations. This man has just admitted that he is part of a wider organization that is pitting itself against us. He just told you that his purpose is distraction, to keep us from seeking this sorcerer out. Did it occur to you for even a moment that this could be no more than another method to distract us? Or perhaps a trap, set up in advance?”

  Jack gapes at the old woman. She is right. The possibilities she described hadn’t occurred to him. He glances at the tar man and sees him grinning through the clear plastic, his laughter echoing against the cell walls once again. He is a maniacal being, a caricature come to life, and for the briefest moment Jack is confused.

  Then he shoves his confusion aside.

  “He was not lying,” Jack snarls. “His demon blood controls him. He is self-centered and lacks any vestige of altruism. He will not sacrifice himself for the benefit of the sorcerer he serves or anyone else.”

  Deedee’s expression hardens. “You don’t know what his motivations are,” she says.

  Jack finds himself frustrated again, but this time it is with Deedee rather than the tar man. He stifles a snarl as he glares at her. “I know that we have done nothing to retrieve the Daemonicon! I know that we cannot leave it in the hands of this sorcerer! And I know that we need to check the locations we have been given!”

  The Brothers in the interrogation room have stopped what they were doing and are watching the two of them. Yet none has the courage to voice their own opinion. None of them stand to support either Jack or Deedee.

  The old woman doesn’t need their support. Where others might have quailed beneath the fury of Jack’s gaze, Deedee is entirely unbowed. She shakes her head. “We know nothing of the sort!” she snaps. “Every last word out of this man’s mouth could be a lie!”

  “Then why don’t we check?” Jack demands.

  To Jack’s mind, it is the only logical option. But Deedee seems determined to hesitate. “Because it could be a trap!” she shouts at him, her own frustration as evident as his.

  The tar man’s laughter has grown loud enough for all to hear clearly. It is like he is laughing at Deedee and Jack, laughing at all of them. He is enjoying their argument as if it were a show.

  His mockery is humiliating. With effort, Jack reins himself in. “What would you have me do instead?” he grates.

  Deedee relaxes a little. It is as if she believes his question to be an indication of acquiescence. “Wait. My advisors and I need time to understand the ramifications of the tar man’s words. If there is an organization as he said, it could change everything.”

  Jack isn’t made for waiting. He is made for action. It is his turn to shake his head. “Hold your discussions if you must, but now is the time to act! Otherwise you are giving this organization what they want. You are giving them the time they need to master the Daemonicon!”

  Deedee glares at him in anger. Yet she cannot refute his words. “Go, then,” she says, more resigned than accepting. “Check the locations. But I forbid you to do more than look. If you find anything, call for backup.”

  It is enough. Jack would have checked the locations regardless of what Deedee said, but knows it is better to have Deedee on his side than working against him.

  He looks to Lennox, who has said nothing throughout the entire exchange. “Are you coming?” he asks.

  She grins at him. “Is that your way of asking me out?” she says.

  Chapter Ten: Talisman and Sigil

  Before leaving the Lair, Jack and Lennox spend some time with Nathanial, who among other things works to supply the Brotherhood’s hunters with the weapons they need.

  Lennox relies on her magic and doesn’t need much, but Jack lacks that advantage. He considers asking for something formidable, but Deedee’s words echo in his mind. “I forbid you to do more than look. If you find anything, call for backup.”

  So with ill-concealed poor humor, Jack tucks a revolver into his shoulder holster, slings double-barreled, pump-action shotgun over his back, and stuffs a handful of test tubes filled with holy water into a pouch he wears at his waist.

  Then he and Lennox hit the road.

  <<<>>>

  Jack holds onto Lennox’s waist as they weave in and out of the New Sanctum traffic on her Ducati. They have already investigated three of the locations the tar man had given them. Both warehouses showed hints of habitation in the form of trash and discarded needles. Of the sorcerer and others of the tar man’s ilk, there had been no sign.

  The incomplete construction site proved just as fruitless. Jack and Lennox startled a homeless woman hiding out in the unfinished, graffiti-covered basement. But the woman had nothing more sinister in her veins than alcohol and normal human blood, and had responded to Jack’s questions with fear and confusion in equal measures.

  Jack is disappointed with their lack of success and is beginning to think that Deedee was right. The tar man had sent them on a quest after illusions and shadows for no purpose other than to waste their time.

  Perhaps Rayce had intended to madden Jack even more than usual. Perhaps he thought that sending Jack on a wild goose chase would infuriate him beyond reason.

  On another day, it might have done so. But Jack knows himself well. He is happier chasing down possible leads with Lennox at his side than he ever would be discussing Brotherhood policy on how best to deal with an organized threat. In his mind, there is only one policy that matters. Attack. Hurt those who would hurt you. Act quickly and with a full measure of hate, and do all you can to ensure there is no comeback.

  Any other approach is asking for trouble.

  “Hey, those clouds are looking pretty grim,” Lennox shouts to Jack over her shoulder. “You want to find somewhere to wait out the storm?”

  Some of her words are stolen by the wind and Jack has to piece them together. She is right. New
Sanctum has never been a tourist hotspot blessed with sunshine and beaches. It is a gloomy, gothic town filled with shadows and eerie darkness. It wears a thick coat of clouds more often than not, and crouches down amongst them as if preparing to pounce.

  Today, the clouds are even thicker than usual. They are so dark they are nearly purple, and the air carries the heavy scent of threatening rain. Within the depths of the clouds, Jack can see hints of lightning even though he has yet to hear any thunder.

  There is a storm getting ready to fling sleet and hail their way. Already, Lennox’s modified Ducati is being buffeted by random gusts of wind so that she is riding much more cautiously than usual.

  If Jack had been at the controls, he would have wrestled with the bike in the wind, trying to fight it into submission all the way. But Lennox is a much better rider than he. She moves with the gusts, leaning into them in such a way that they seem part of her riding style, helping her around dark sedans and rumbling trucks as if by design.

  Yet the back of a motorbike is not the best place upon which to weather a storm.

  Jack mutters to himself, irritated at the inconvenience of it all. But the rain has yet to begin. “Let’s keep going!” he bellows loudly enough for Lennox to hear through her helmet. “The next location is not far from here! We can shelter there!”

  “As you wish, oh Ancient One!” Lennox replies, her tone full of amusement.

  As she guns the Ducati engine, sending them skittering through the traffic like an autumn leaf blown along a path, Jack senses that she is laughing to herself. Belatedly, he wonders if she just wanted to grab a moment or two by themselves. To share a coffee like normal people out on a date.

  This thought is another reason to make Jack mutter. It wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world, but not at that moment. They still had work to do.

  <<<>>>

  Whatever Lennox’s motives had been, it isn’t long before they arrive at the corner of Talisman Way and Sigil Street. Jack recognizes the area as having once been a center of commerce before a fire ripped through it. Now, it is largely industrial with a few vacant lots.

  As the first fat drops of rain start to fall, Lennox slows almost to a stop and bumps up onto the neglected pavement next to the subway entrance.

  Jack dismounts awkwardly. He looks to the darkened sky in time to see another flash of lightning. This time, it is accompanied by a low rumble of thunder that he can feel in his chest. It is an ominous and foreboding sight, a harbinger of dreadful things to come.

  It is almost like a premonition, and it makes Jack shiver.

  Before he can question it, before he can do so much as wonder if it is akin to the premonition he’d had when the Daemonicon had been stolen, Lennox distracts him.

  “I hate riding on a wet seat,” she complains. She has taken off her helmet and chained it to the Ducati’s front wheel. Raindrops are falling more frequently now and she grimaces as she wipes a drop from her forehead. “Come on,” she says. “Your choice of date locations hasn’t improved, but at least it should be dry.”

  She turns to the subway entrance. But instead of going with her, Jack takes a moment to study her instead, ignoring the rain completely.

  To him, she is flawless. The battle against the tar man had left no mark on the perfection of her skin. Her ready smile and upbeat nature is completely at odds with his own, and he can’t help but admire her for it. Nor is she afraid to pit herself against the loathsome beasts they face.

  The thought of her being anything more than his partner is new to him. The difference in their ages had made him uncertain. But now, as she turns back around with a quizzical look on her face, he allows himself a slow grin.

  “Or do you have some weird fetish for standing in the rain?” she asks with a playful half-smile.

  “I was just thinking I should take you to dinner after we’re done for the day. Some place nice,” Jack says. He has completely forgotten his almost-premonition of just a few moments ago.

  Lennox blinks at him in astonishment. Slowly, her half-smile broadens. Then she blushes and turns away.

  “I think maybe I’d like that,” she says almost shyly. “But first thing’s first. Let’s go see if there’s anything evil hiding down there.”

  Chapter Eleven: Alternate Entrance

  A steel gate crosses the subway entrance at the bottom of the stairs. The gate is one of those concertina things that Jack associates more with old-fashioned lifts than anything else. When Jack and Lennox reach it, Jack thinks it is simply locked in place, and hardly an obstacle for Lennox’s magic.

  But then he looks closer and understands that it has been welded shut. He grumbles under his breath in irritation, and looks about for something that might help him pry it open.

  There is nothing useful. Feeling frustrated, Jack does the only thing he can think of. He grips the gate with his fists and places one of his purple sneakers up high, next to the lock. Then, like the tar man had done earlier, he pits his strength against the metal, straining for all he is worth.

  Lennox watches him with an amused and faintly mocking expression. Jack curses, changes his grip, and tries again. But the gate is unyielding. He can shake it so that it rattles, but the welding is strong and the gate itself refuses to bend.

  Finally, his fingers and hands aching at the abuse they are being forced to endure, he gives up. He is panting with effort, and is annoyed when Lennox fails to stifle a snigger.

  He glares at her, unable to see the humor in his efforts.

  “Do you have a better idea?” he snaps. Only the overhang above the gate protecting them from the rain is preventing him from becoming truly riled.

  “Maybe I do,” Lennox says with a playful grin. Teasing Jack is one of her favorite pastimes. “I could probably re-melt that weld for you. Or, you know, just blast a hole straight through it.”

  Jack is a little abashed. He is used to doing things for himself, but even so, he should have thought of that himself. But Lennox hasn’t finished.

  “That said, we might not want anyone following us in there,” she says. “But there may be another way.” With that, she pulls out her cell phone and makes a call. “Nate? Lex. Hey, listen. Could you do me a quick favor? Can you find the city plans for the corner of Talisman and Sigil? Underground, subway stuff. Yes, now is good – we’re right here.”

  Lennox pauses for a moment before giving Jack a broad smile. “He’s checking,” she says. Then, “What? No, just talking to Jack. You’ve got it? Good. Now, is there some other way we can get into the station? The main entrance is sealed off.”

  She pauses again, listening, then nods. Jack can’t predict from her expression what Nathanial might be saying.

  “Okay, great. Thank you,” she says and rings off. Then she favors Jack with her usual grin. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” she says.

  Jack is torn between irritation and amusement. “What did he say?” he asks.

  “Looking at the plans, there are lots of ways in. The closest is through a manhole not far from here.” She nods her head toward the stairs to indicate the direction.

  Jack grunts. “Looks like we’re going to get a little wet after all,” he says.

  “I’m game if you are,” Lennox replies.

  <<<>>>

  In the time that Jack and Lennox spent trying to open the steel gate, the heavens opened. It is raining with such force it is like the clouds are trying to knock them flat against the pavement. Beyond hiding under the overhang at the bottom of the stairs, there is no protection against it. All Jack and Lennox can do is tug the collars of their jackets up high and splash quickly through the standing water to the manhole.

  They find the manhole quickly enough. It is on the pavement around the corner on Sigil Street, but Jack is soaked through in an instant. To him, it is an irritation to be ignored, just like the regular lightning and thunder. But Lennox has a different response.

  She is laughing in the rain as if she is enjoying herself.

>   Like Jack, she is totally drenched, her white hair plastered flat against her head and rain water dripping from her nose. Her leather jacket isn’t designed to be proof against such weather. It and her jeans have become several shades darker than they were even a few minutes ago.

  Yet she is exuding pure happiness.

  Jack can’t help but be affected by her joy. He forgets the rain and the thunder. He forgets the line of dark sedans growling and stalking along the road next to them, their window wipers waving back and forth in a futile attempt to clear the water from their screens. He even forgets what they are there to do.

  For just a moment, he glimpses what his life could be like without the demons and Hell-fiends and monsters he has spent so many years fighting. He sees a life without the turmoil and hatred he has lived with for so long.

  He sees the possibility of being happy.

  For him, standing there in the rain looking at Lennox’s smiling face, it is a perfect moment. He finds himself lost within it, and might have stood there forever if Lennox hadn’t looked at him quizzically before shivering and stamping her feet in the wet.

  “Hurry up!” she says, still smiling. “This rain is cold!”

  The moment is over. Yet even the memory of it leaves Jack buoyed. He turns to the task at hand and sees that the manhole cover has three holes near the edge, like a hint of a triangle within the two-foot circle of steel.

  City workers probably use a tool of some sort to lever the cover open. Jack doesn’t have any tool, but he is as sinewy and tough as a rock climber, and his hands are surprisingly strong. Without even a suggestion of hesitation, he hooks two fingers each into two of the holes and heaves.

  At first, the manhole cover is unwilling to budge. Years of buildup around the edges are acting like a layer of cement. It is sealed shut.

  But it isn’t cement. The buildup is no more than dirt and grime, and the rain has been softening that buildup since it began.

  After no more than a second, the manhole cover shifts. Encouraged, Jack changes his grip a little and heaves again.