by Nazri Noor
Mason stood too close to Mammon as he voiced his rage, but the demon prince hardly flinched at the proximity, simply looking on in amusement.
“So you’re saying that you’re content to stand aside as the world ends,” Mason shouted. “That’s it? You’re not even going to try and stop it?”
Mammon shrugged. “Ragnarok, Armageddon, the Eschaton – each is just the apocalypse by a different name. You were correct in one thing, at least. A world without mankind would be droll. No souls to collect, no lives to corrupt and to torment. No. This is simply the way of all things. Nothing lasts forever, and time has run out. It is not in the nature of the universe to continue in perpetuity. The market has crashed.”
A horrible keening began to scream from out of the sky. It was fear that both restrained me and convinced me to lift my head, to look at the clouds, and when I saw them, my heart faltered. The thirteen crimson stars were falling to earth. I looked again to Mammon’s face, seeing the red light reflecting in their eyes, and somewhere inside me I thought to beg the demon prince to help.
But the answer, as it was with any of the entities – angels, demons, the monsters of the apocalypse, even the gods themselves – would be a loud and resounding “No.” I looked up again as the thirteen terrible stars descended to earth, and my body thrummed with horror and despair.
“Fare well, humans,” Mammon said, its body sinking into the pool of molten gold at its feet. “The end has begun.”
Chapter 26
I turned to Asher, my proverbial knuckles already rapping desperately at the Dark Room’s door. “Tell the others to get ready. Call them, text them. Anything!”
“Sterling’s already on it,” Asher said, pointing to where the vampire was yelling loudly into his phone. “But how is that going to make a difference? If we can’t break out of here, then they can’t break in.”
“We’ll improvise,” I said, really meaning that I hoped one of the others would find a way for us. Romira could manipulate fire, and in fact had used her very gift to control flames sent from the sun itself. Maybe she could deal with hellfire, too. Or one of the others who knew the ins and outs of sorcery would know a way. Carver, or – or Herald. My heart pinched at just the thought of him, but I curled my fist and clenched my teeth. Priorities, Dust, I told myself. Priorities, like the thirteen crimson stars streaking straight for Valero.
Wait. No. The thirteen stars were actually heading directly for us. By the size and shape of the missiles, even one of them would be enough to blow the hilltop we were standing on into a pile of dirt clods and dead meat. What would thirteen do?
“Fuck,” I shouted. “Everybody, gather near. I’ll do what I can to protect us.”
Gil and Sterling rushed to my side, their faces red in the light of Agatha Black’s approach. Asher shouted once, then flicked his hand upwards, a flurry of huge ivory spikes following the direction of his gesture, erupting from the ground to form a wall of bones. Mason called on a kite shield from the Vestments, almost big enough to cover his body, but nowhere near enough to defend us. At least he was trying.
And I kept banging on the Dark Room’s door, pleading for it to open just a crack. I’d used the shadows to create domes and shields before, ones that weren’t nearly as sturdy as Bastion’s, but desperate times, you know? Yet still the Dark wouldn’t answer. Agatha’s proximity must have had something to do with it. I swore under my breath. What good was it being tainted by the curse of the Eldest if I couldn’t even use their power against them?
“Brace for impact,” Gil growled. Sterling said nothing, only silently positioning himself in front of me. My heart twinged again. His loyalty made me feel all the worse for not talking to him about the Apotheosis more openly. I owed him that much.
“It’s been an honor fighting with you boys,” Mason said, smiling bravely despite the quaver in his voice.
“You guys are my brothers,” Asher shouted, straining as he summoned more and more of the bone spikes from out of the earth. “If we die tonight, promise me we’ll haunt the world together.”
“We’re not dying,” Sterling snarled. “None of us are dying.”
The stars were so close that the world itself had turned crimson. I shut my eyes, the light of blood piercing my skin, and waited for death. I cursed the Dark Room, cursed it for letting my friends die.
But nothing. The shrieking of the thirteen stars had stopped. I opened my eyes again, only to find that they had stopped directly above us, arranged into a circle. Slowly, their light faded, revealing thirteen precise copies of the lioness. Thirteen times Agatha Black grinned at us, the lines of her face filled with malice. The witches spoke in sequence, taunting, their voices echoes of each other, reverberating with dark triumph.
“It isn’t your time yet, little sheep. We aren’t going to make it that easy.”
“Besides, if you perish now, then how will you see what we truly have in store for the earth?”
“How will you witness the glory, the true beauty of the coming of our masters?”
The Agathas spun around us in a slow circle, eyes and smiles burning with evil, green from the sickly light of Mammon’s hellfire, like some dreadful parody of a child’s zoetrope. A golden spear and a huge bone spike erupted from our midst, both projectiles heading directly for one of the Agathas. All thirteen clenched their fingers lazily. The spear vanished, and the spike crumbled into white dust, drifting away in the wind. Mason and Asher cursed. We were basically defenseless.
“It will be very amusing to watch you try and stop us. But do be reminded that when we last fought, you could barely stand against a single manifestation of our greatness. What hope do you have against the full power of the lioness?”
“Oh my God,” Sterling cried out. “You’re so boring. Are you just going to monologue all night long? Are you just going to talk us to death?”
Silence, for a moment. Then one Agatha laughed, then another, until all thirteen were cackling, their voices laced with mirth and menace.
“We shall kill you last, vampire. We only want you to live long enough to see the fruit of our holy labors.”
“Then tell us,” I shouted. “Tell us why you had to murder so many innocents. Was that just you going on some mindless killing spree? What was the point?”
I found myself flinching when the circle of witches around us tightened, closing in as they hovered above us, their feet barely touching the licking tongues of Mammon’s flames.
“Surely you already know, little one. My gods demand blood, a massive circle with which to summon them, to invite them into this world.”
I shifted uneasily. She confirmed it, then. They were all sacrifices. Offerings. Then that meant –
“Thea Morgana didn’t think big enough. She attempted to destroy your home, Valero. But why inscribe a circle around something as insignificant as a city? Why only sacrifice those mortals? Why not the entire world?”
“Oh God,” I muttered. “No.”
Thirteen mouths sneered at me as they opened and spoke at once. “Yes.”
The witches pointed their hands at the sky, each issuing a beam of red light that pierced the clouds like spotlights. Up in the stars, the lights expanded and swirled, curved lines connecting each point until they formed into a complete, blood-red circle.
“All those decades of slumbering madness,” Agatha said. “Oh, the things that we’ve seen, little sheep. Let us show you.”
The circle in the sky began to spin, as the clouds around it grew red to match the color of Agatha Black’s magic. Then a line appeared in the center of it, bisecting the circle into two halves. My heart seized with terror as the line split apart to reveal a bright yellow pool, a slit of black at its center. The slit swiveled around, rolling, until it found the thirteen witches far below, until it found us.
I held my breath and looked on, helpless, as the great eye blinked once more.
Chapter 27
The thing in the sky was the size of a stadium, its horrible, sl
itted pupil flitting about, a grotesque reminder of the fact that it was attached to something much, much larger. There was no way in hell that anyone within miles could ignore its presence. You don’t look up in the sky, shrug, and go back to binge-watch TV shows after you see the massive eye glaring back at you from the heavens.
The Lorica was going to have a hell of a time cleaning this one up. I wondered if they even had enough Mouths on hand to wipe the memories of that many civilians.
The more pressing concern, of course, was whether any of those civilians were going to survive the night. Whoever – whatever that thing in the sky was, there was no question that it was summoned for the sole purpose of destroying and consuming the world. Agatha’s laughter reverberated from thirteen equidistant points around us, like we needed another reminder of how badly this one-sided fight was going.
I hurled a fireball at the closest witch, pouring as much of my spirit as I could into the flames,. It only snuffed out before it even made contact with her body. The thirteen were shielded, either by their own magic or by the unholy gift of their insane masters. Still, I knew that the key was to deactivate them, one by one. Every Agatha was a pylon holding the doorway open for the Eldest, one corner of the thirteen-sided gate that gave them passage between dimensions.
“Where the hell are the others?” I said, my eyes searching around the hilltop, barely able to see through the hellish green fire that Mammon had left behind.
Asher fumbled with his phone with one hand, gesturing and drawing mystic symbols with the other as he called out more spikes of bone from within the earth. At one point, exactly thirteen of them erupted from the ground to strike at the witches, a feat of arcane power that would have made even Carver swoon. But they only shattered before they could make impact.
Calling on the Vestments, Mason hurled more spears at the surrounding horrors. Every one of his spears splintered into pieces, then vanished into wisps of gold, returning bent and broken to the armories of heaven. I fired balls of flame from both hands, cursing harder and harder at how the Dark Room wasn’t responding. Our attacks were only tickling the Agathas. We were just flies to her, worthless little insects.
The flash of black and silver streaking towards another of the Agathas gave me some hope. This had worked before, both Gil in his werewolf form and Sterling with his lightning sword acting together to break Agatha’s shield. Both claws and katana struck the air just around her, sending up a shower of sparks – but nothing. Either Agatha was on to their trick, or there was a greater source powering her protections. Likely both. Sterling and Gil landed lightly in the grass, totally ignored by the witches.
But the gap in the sky was growing larger, and now the Agathas had lifted their arms, chanting in unknowable tongues as more and more of the blood-red magic leaked from their souls, feeding the ever widening rift. I cast more fireballs as Asher summoned more of his spikes. The witches carried on as if nothing had happened, uncaring.
They didn’t even react when the first of several snowflakes drifted out of the sky – when that gentle, mostly innocent manifestation of ice magic was followed by a terrifying hail of icicles. I fell to the ground, taking Asher with me, and Mason raised his shield over our heads as Sterling and Gil – returned to human form, thank God – rushed for shelter.
Perhaps some divine form of magic allowed Mason to keep us all protected from the shower of ice, every spike as sharp as a knife, shattering like blades of glass against his shield. He grunted as the icicles fell harder and faster, and we only ventured to peek outside of our makeshift umbrella when the pinging and crashing had dwindled to nothing.
The ground was littered in shards of melting ice. Above us, the Agathas continued their blighted song, untouched by the torrent of frost. But all around us, the circle of green hellfire had disappeared, doused and vanquished by the same person who had once saved me from Mammon’s flames.
“Herald,” I said, my heart bursting with sunshine at the sight of him, and of the rest of our friends.
“No time to talk,” he said, rushing to my side, then ushering us away from the ring of witches. “We can fight them from outside their circle. No telling what they have planned, but we’ll have a better chance of breaking their seal that way.”
“Fair enough,” I said, stumbling along after him, hope blooming in my chest as I caught the faces of the rest of Team Borica. Bastion, Prudence, Romira, and Royce were there, as were Carver and, of all people, Mama Rosa. But what truly heartened me was the sight of the crowd of people behind them.
“We brought reinforcements,” Bastion announced, his chest puffed up, his voice deeper as he stood tall and proud. I recognized some faces from working with them, but I found so many more, dozens that I didn’t know. Men and women from the Lorica, come to help with the battle. Humanity was finally fighting for humanity.
And then I saw them, even more shapes emerging from out of the darkness, streaming in from all directions. More and more people, mages, each and every one, spells already prepped in the palms of their hands. I recognized Frau Helena near the front. My blood thrummed with renewed confidence. This wasn’t just the Lorica. The mages of the world were rallying to defend our home.
Wordlessly, as one, we turned on the witches, and the night sky lit up with the horrific brilliance of raw magic unleashed. This was nothing compared to the battle against the White Mother, or the massive fight with the Overthroat. Anything and everything I’d ever encountered in the arcane underground up to that point would have been slaughtered by the assault of so many mages, easily a hundred of us working in symphonic unity, blasting with abandon.
Someone called a halt, the river of magic stopping at the sound of a barked order from Frau Helena. The air cleared, the smoke of fires lit in the grass by flame and lightning blowing away in a gentle breeze. I gritted my teeth at the sight of the thirteen witches completely unharmed and untouched. I clenched my fist.
“We barely made a dent,” I cried out.
I spun on my heels, looking at the faces of the mages gathered there, their skin red in the light of Agatha Black’s sorceries. They were just as worried as I was, though a few of their number were busy with other concerns. Bastion and Royce were speaking to each other rapidly, practically yelling. I noticed a third in their cluster, Odessa, another Scion of the Lorica famed for her talent with erecting powerful shields. She was involved in the argument as well, but it ended quickly enough when she bent closer to suggest something in a whisper. The three of them nodded as Bastion stepped forward to address us all.
“Everyone, back,” he said, to the protestation of some of the Hooded Council’s members, who shouted at him in a colorful array of languages. “No. Back. Those of you who can create shields, lend us your power. We’re calling in a strike.”
I knew exactly what that meant, and instinctively I tugged on Herald’s wrist and ran towards the rest of the mages. Asher and the others followed suit. My eyes landed on Royce, who had two fingers pressed to his temple. He was speaking to someone who wasn’t physically with us, telepathically relaying his orders.
“Ready,” Bastion cried out, thrusting his arm towards the sky.
A wave of force emitted from the palm of his hand, and I marveled as Odessa and more and more of the mages contributed their essence to the shield, lifting ensorcelled fingers and hands and wands to the sky. A faint humming emanated from all around us, the air vibrating with the concentration of so much power. The gleam of magic around us solidified into a massive dome, one big enough to protect every mage by the hilltop. We needed to be properly defended for what was coming.
Royce pointed his finger directly at the circle of witches. “Open fire!”
I searched the night sky for a sign of the Lorica’s fullest fury, looking for the gleam of red magic among the streams of similarly colored radiance issuing from each of Agatha Black’s manifestations. That was the advantage – they wouldn’t really see the attack coming, not until it was too late.
And
soon, there it was in the sky, like a crimson sun: a massive, terrifying beam of roaring energy, screaming from out of the clouds, the orbital strike that Royce, Bastion, Odessa, and the other Scions had summoned through their occult mastery. The red pillar of howling fire descended to earth, reaching hungry fingers for Agatha Black’s circle.
The Heart wants what it wants.
Chapter 28
The pillar of red death roared from the clouds, the stray tendrils of energy at its tip clumping into what could almost pass for a gigantic fist. My breath hung in my chest for what felt like ages. I was keenly aware that everyone around me was quiet, too, the air still in their lungs, all of us waiting for imminent destruction.
I’d rarely ever seen anything that was at once so beautiful and so terrifying. The Heart’s beam spilled over the hilltop like a gout of ruby fire, as if breathed by some celestial dragon hidden far above the clouds. It sounded that way, too, as if the raw energies of the Scion’s inner circle were being emitted directly from the growling, rumbling maw of an ancient behemoth.
The force of the blast was so violent, so tremendous that it shook the earth, even though it lasted mere seconds. But as the last of the ruby flames died out, I heard the sweetest noise, the sound that mattered the most. Exactly what we were hoping for: the shattering of glass.
Agatha’s shields were down.
Our magical assault returned with new vigor. Launching blasts of fire felt so natural and so easy when my blood was singing with so much confidence. Surely Agatha couldn’t stand against the might of a hundred mages. And I was right, to a point. Her manifestations weren’t ignoring us anymore. As one, the thirteen witches turned to us, raising their hands to erect new shields, defending themselves.
