by Mark Wooden
“Can I do this now?” Kyle asked. Ulysses and Taylor remained indifferent. Kyle looked to Strathan. He gave a small shrug. Kyle nodded.
He moved the small latch locking the box, and then flipped open the lid.
Taylor licked his lips. Ulysses rubbed his hands together. Strathan kept his eyes on Kyle and the box.
Looking inside, Kyle gave a surprised expression that alarmed Taylor and Ulysses.
“What is it?” Taylor asked with a bit more panic in his tone than he would have liked.
“Fuck!” Kyle said. “It’s a head!”
Kyle looked to Taylor and Ulysses. Panic consumed their faces. Kyle clapped his hands and broke out in a laugh. “I shoulda taken a pic of that!” he said.
Kyle turned to Strathan. “Seven was pretty damned awesome.”
Strathan acknowledged with a sardonic grin.
Taylor opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it. He brought up his hand, pointed at the box.
Kyle threw up his hands. “Relax, man, relax.” He reached into the box and pulled out three thin necklace-like chains. Ulysses and Taylor watched, riveted as Kyle drew the chains out of the box, dragging something with them. At the end of the chains were three amulets.
In the center of the amulets were dark red crystals.
The Vyntari shards.
“There’s one in here for each of us,” Kyle said as the jewels swung on the ends of their chains.
The Order sorcerers stood in silent awe.
Taylor was the first to move, slowly approaching Kyle. He looked at the shards, seeing but not believing.
When Strathan had first proposed exchanging the shards for his freedom from the Order, he had two of them. Being the cautious man he is (and a bit of a dick), Strathan hadn’t brought them before his brethren. This moment was the first time the three had seen them.
“Damn, Taylor,” Strathan cut in. “Yer like a virgin seeing snatch for the first time!”
Taylor’s gaze tore away from the shards long enough to glare at Strathan. “If you had any respect for the histories, you’d understand my amazement.”
“If you had any idea how much shit I had to go through to get these damned things, you’d understand why I couldn’t give a rat’s arse about ‘em,” Strathan replied. “Now can we hurry this along? I did my part.”
Taylor turned from Strathan and back to the shards. He gingerly extended a hand, touching first one of the amulets surrounding a shard and then tentatively touching the shard itself. He could feel the power emanating from the Shadow God’s fractured spirit captured within the shard.
“To have three of the nine,” Ulysses said from somewhere behind Taylor.
“For once, Strathan,” another male voice began from a faraway place, “you have done something positive for the Order.”
All the sorcerers present turned their eyes to an area near the back of the secret cave. A dimensional rift tore open the reality of that area, revealing behind it the landscape of Hell.
Malachi Thorne — not his projection, but the man himself — stepped through the portal.
Strathan watched Taylor and Ulysses each drop immediately to one knee, bowing their heads to Thorne like the little sycophants they were. Kyle did not accompany them; he was too busy being starstruck by the Spanish woman accompanying Thorne — Valentina. Poor little whelp. If he only knew Valentina like Strathan did.
Taylor curtly yelled for him to do so. Kyle dropped the amulets back into the floating box and complied. Meanwhile, the portal closed behind Thorne and Valentina.
“Well, look who makes an in the flesh appearance!” Strathan said. “Should I bow like these bitches or curtsy?”
“Do show some respect, Dwyer,” Valentina said in that sexy Spanish accent of hers.
“I’m beyond that,” Strathan replied. “I did my part.” He pointed at Thorne. “Now give me what I deserve.”
Thorne’s eyes narrowed.
Strathan casually glanced behind him and to the entrance to the secret cave. With their eyes to the ground, none of the Order sorcerers saw what Strathan noticed — the shadow moving from the entrance and melding with the shadows just to the side of the entrance.
He looked back to Val and Thorne. If either of them saw it, they made no mention of it.
And then Strathan laughed.
“What’s so damned funny?” Ulysses asked, turning his head slightly to look to the rogue sorcerer while remaining on bended knee.
“Besides the cut of that shitty brown suit of yours?” Strathan asked, provoking the anger he knew lay just beneath Ulysses’ metaphorically thin skin.
Ulysses started up, but Taylor yelled his name. Having gained the man’s attention, Taylor waved him back to his kneeling position.
“That’s pretty good, Taylor,” Strathan said. “You teach him to sit, roll over, all that shite too?”
“Enough of your insolence,” Thorne spat, silencing the others by entering the conversation.
He held out a hand. A black, ethereal fog filled the inside of the box. The fog rose, taking with it the three amulets holding the shards. They floated to Thorne. He grasped their chains in his hand, holding the amulets at eye level. The black fog dissipated.
“For millennia, the Order has sought the Vyntari shards,” Thorne said with a reverent tone. “Rare is it to find one. But three?”
“Sacred, rare, blah, blah,” Strathan mocked. “You have ‘em. Merry f-ing —”
Suddenly, Strathan’s mouth clamped shut. He tried to speak, but his mouth wouldn’t open. Thorne’s magic, no doubt. It was almost as bad as when, back in Africa, that Black bitch Knight threw cave rock over his face. Even though he was still a free man otherwise, Strathan knew better than to get all hellfire on his mentor.
At least, not yet.
Thorne carried the three Vyntari shards to the box from which they came. He placed them in the box and closed it. Taking the box, Thorne held it in front of Taylor. “I will entrust these to you, Taylor. Protect them, keep them, until we perform the ritual that will enlighten us to the location of another.”
Taylor extended both his hands as if accepting an offering. Thorne placed the box in those hands. Taylor pulled the box to his bosom. “I will guard these with not only my life, but the lives of all in the Los Angeles lodge of the Order of Haroth.”
Thorne nodded. He then turned to Strathan. “And for you,” he said.
Strathan wanted to say something, but he still couldn’t open his mouth. Thorne and his damned magic. He’d done this to him several times back when he was just an acolyte learning the dark arts. He didn’t like it then.
“When you became a member of the Order,” Thorne continued, “dark baptismal fire burned you into this group. It purged your desires for goodness so that you could feed the darkness of the One True God Yahweh.”
Strathan remembered. He remembered the pain almost killing him. It literally did kill most of the would-be initiates. Thorne had hit him with that shit again to motivate him to go after the last of the three shards. All it’d done was piss him off.
But yeah. It still hurt like a bitch.
“To purge you of your knowledge of us,” Thorne said, “you must go through that baptismal fire again.”
Strathan, his mouth magically sealed, waved his arms beside his head in frustration. He walked away from the group of sorcerers. Mentally he was on a rant, but they’d never hear it, only see his gesturing. Strathan guessed he made a comical scene without the voice.
Turning back to Thorne, Strathan pointed to his mouth.
“You may speak,” Thorne said.
Strathan opened his mouth and moved his tongue around to make sure Thorne wasn’t lying. He then said, “I gave you the damned shards! Don’t make me wait on some friggin’ ritual!”
Thorne tilted his head slightly. He waved his left hand in front of his eyes. Runes appeared on the walls and floor of the cave. Prevalent among them was a ring of three concentric circles on the ground.
Strathan glanced at Valentina. “Explains why yer here,” he said. “Always looking for the better horse.”
“You were always a stallion, Dwyer,” Valentina replied. “I’m just looking for something more mature.”
Strathan scowled. “I know mature.” He heard Kyle chuckle. Strathan walked toward Valentina. On the way, he smacked Kyle on the back of his head. The boy yelped.
“Oh you know mature alright,” Valentina said in a mocking voice.
Strathan stopped in front of her. He shrugged. “But it felt hella good.” Running a finger along the Spaniard’s chin, he added, “I sure hope you didn’t mount the wrong horse.”
Valentina’s lips slowly curved their way into a wicked grin.
“Rise, my brethren,” Thorne commanded, “and take your places at the edge of the outer circle.”
Strathan turned from Valentina.
Like obedient lapdogs, the three other Order sorcerers stood and moved to their places, forming a triangle across the circles. Thorne looked to Strathan. “Take your place at the center of the circle,” he told the rogue.
Strathan glanced at Valentina. She gave a nod of encouragement.
He felt like it was a farewell.
“Haven’t seen this ritual before,” Strathan said as a means of stalling.
“You haven’t seen many of our rituals,” Thorne said. “Perhaps you should have paid more attention while you were a leader in the Order.”
Strathan could have sworn he heard a stifled laugh come from either Ulysses or Taylor. Normally he’d fry them with a bolt of hellfire, but now still wasn’t the time. Hell, killing them could have fucked up this spell for all he knew.
He looked at that spot of shadow near the entrance. He couldn’t tell if the moving shadow was still there or not. It was all, well, shadow.
Dammit.
Reluctantly, Strathan took up his position in the center of the circle. He stretched his arms out to either side in a pose of surrender. Whatever Thorne had in store, it couldn’t be any worse than the initiation’s fire, and he’d endured that.
Facing Thorne, he said, “Do your worst then. Take me away from all this —”
Suddenly, Strathan dropped his arms. “Second thought, eff that noise. Fatale?”
Thorne looked curiously at Strathan. A second later, it was Strathan who looked curiously at Thorne.
One tends to do that when a curved blade protrudes through the other person’s forehead.
Thorne didn’t have time to contemplate the blade as it pulled upward. Blood and brains fell from the gaping wound that was formerly Thorne’s head.
“Holy shit!!” Kyle exclaimed as he fell away backward from the circle.
He and the other Order sorcerers looked to Thorne as his body collapsed to its knees. Standing behind and to the side of him was a living shadow. That shadow crept down as if melting into the shadows behind it.
Beneath the living shadow was a woman in a white Mardi Gras mask covering the upper portion of her face, pressing back waves of dark brown hair that fell back into a hood. A halter top, flowing full-length skirt and fashionable boots completed her look.
The men were more concerned with the curved blade attached to a foot-long metal stick she held in her right hand. She flashed the men a sinister grin with her pale red lips, and then slammed her blade into the side of Thorne’s neck.
Pulling upward, she severed Thorne’s head from his body. It rolled away as blood sprayed upon the circular rune and her skirt. The body fell to one side.
Strathan quickly backpedaled away from the blood, his handmade dress loafers barely escaping the splattering. “Did ya have ta make such a mess?” he asked.
The more recently Initiated, Kyle wasn’t experienced enough to know when his ass was seconds from death. He froze in place, just gazing at Fatale. Ulysses and Taylor, on the other hand, had been around the block.
Strathan wasn’t worried about these two. Contrary to what Hollywood suggests, not all sorcerers throw fireballs or shoot blasts of Eldritch power. Some are dumb enough to train in what amounted to passive magic. These types were control freaks, learning to read minds or force their will on others.
Taylor and Ulysses were those kinds of ball bags. Ulysses would try to read Fatale’s mind. Good luck with that. Strathan knew the girl was a stone cold nutjob, so it’d take him a bit to figure what to look for.
Meanwhile, Taylor’s powers relied on someone else using magic so he could counter it. Unless he was going to try to hide in a shadow, he was SOL.
Lucky for Kyle, they were closest to the whirlwind of a woman with the kama blade.
Ulysses got to his feet, placed a finger to his head as the physical manifestation of his mind reading attempt. Strathan thought that quite funny; Ulysses could jerk off with both hands and still read a mind. Strathan blamed the “X-Men” movies.
Fatale twisted the non-bladed end of her kama stick. A hand-sized section of steel separated from the rest of the stick. She threw the smaller end at Ulysses. A thin chain clanked out from her blade’s handle and wrapped around Ulysses’s wrist. Fatale wound her side of the chain in her arm, shortening the chain. That action pulled Ulysses off balance, moving him toward Fatale.
When he was in striking range, Fatale brought her blade down.
To everyone’s surprise, Ulysses caught the kama stick before the blade punctured his head. Strathan then remembered Uly’s other ability — reading a target’s mind so he can learn a skill. Must have picked up Fatale’s combat prowess.
Lotta good it seemed to be doing him.
“Adriana!” Ulysses said.
Strathan though it curious to hear that name from him. More curious was the scowl now adorning Fatale’s expression. Her lips parted slightly, revealing fangs.
Maybe mentioning Adriana was a bad idea?
Fatale quickly unrolled a bit of chain from her arms and wrapped it around Ulysses’ neck. Pulling him close, she snarled, “Why do you speak that name?” through a French accent.
Ulysses gagged trying to talk. Fatale stooped to a knee, bringing him down with her. In his prone position, Ulysses became even less of a threat, were that possible. Fatale allowed him some air so he could speak.
“In your mind,” he said. “I know you miss Adriana.”
Strathan thought that curious. He couldn’t wait to see how this turned out.
Fatale cinched up the chain, cutting off Ulysses’ speech. “Don’t confuse wanting to find her with missing her.”
“We have resources,” Taylor spat from his position across the circle.
Fatale kept her attention on Ulysses.
Strathan glanced at Valentina. She had stepped away from Fatale and Thorne’s carcass but remained captivated by the drama unfolding before her. Or just waiting for the opportunity to grab the shards and split.
Looking to Kyle, the scene before him had him so freaked out he hadn’t even stood up.
“Allow us to live, and we can find this sister of yours,” Taylor said.
Fatale paused as if pondering the offer.
She then buried her kama’s blade in Ulysses’ throat, severing his larynx. She released the chain’s free end and stood. The chain uncoiled from Ulysses, dangling from her kama. His bleeding soon to be corpse dropped to the ground at her feet.
“I already made that deal —” Fatale began.
One second, Fatale stood over Ulysses. The next, she stood behind Taylor.
“With Strathan,” she said, finishing her statement.
She then opened her mouth wide, revealing her fangs in all their glory. Before Taylor even registered that she stood behind him, the vampire buried her fangs in the man’s neck. He spasmed, almost falling to his knees. Fatale held him up, continuing to drain him of his blood.
Kyle scrambled to his feet, turned toward the exit — and found Valentina standing in front of him. He took a few awkward steps away from her.<
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“You should probably go now,” she said in the voice that had soothed millions of fans.
Kyle looked back to Fatale and Taylor. His eyes followed Taylor as the vampire dropped the man. Taylor’s hand immediately went to the wound at his neck. Blood pulsed between his fingers.
Looking back to Fatale, Kyle saw her lick Taylor’s blood from her lips. She then closed her eyes as if concentrating.
A hand clamped down on Kyle’s shoulder, shocking him back to reality. The young man turned to see the hand belonged to Strathan.
“Seriously, kid,” Strathan said. “I know they roped you into this, and I like you, so I’ll give ya a pass. But ya better act now.”
Strathan looked to Fatale. Kyle followed his gaze. The vampire’s head lulled to one side; a smile played on her lips. Her hands moved across her body, caressing her in a sick masturbatory fantasy of sex and death.
“Don’t know if Fatale’ll still be hungry once she’s finished… whatever she’s doing,” Strathan said, obviously as disturbed by Fatale as Kyle.
Valentina shook her head.
Kyle looked to Strathan, then Valentina. The Spanish vampire motioned her head toward the secret cave’s entrance. Kyle looked back to Strathan.
“You always did right by me, Dwyer,” Kyle said.
“Just tell all yer Order buddies to keep outta my way. I’ll do the same for them.” With that, Strathan waved him away.
Kyle nodded, and then hurried out the cave.
A blood chilling howl pulled Valentina and Strathan’s attention back to Taylor. He was on the ground, trying to push himself up. Blood splatted on the floor from the wound in his throat. Blood also seeped from his ears. The dying man looked to Strathan.
Blood poured from Taylor’s nose and eyes.
“Really, love, is this necessary?” Strathan asked Fatale, his face portraying a look of disgust.
The vampire opened her eyes and looked to Strathan. She stretched her arms as one waking from a restful sleep.
