Modern Rituals

by J. S. Leonard

  Trevor pushed himself onto his knees and placed his hands behind his head. James and Olivia did the same. Three guards, armed with long-barreled carbine rifles, approached them. One placed the barrel of his gun against James’ neck—the icy cylinder numbed his skin. The other two guards followed suit with Olivia and Trevor.

  The commander pressed two fingers to his ear and said, “Control, we have them. The seal has been unlocked. I repeat. The seal has been unlocked. Awaiting orders.”

  James’ bowels churned. The room shrunk, and he gasped for air. Death scratched the nape of his neck—an intimate encounter that terrified him to his core. Every second elongated, stretching into minutes, hours—he could bear no more. The commander spoke.

  “Yes sir, all are alive except Participant One. Understood sir,” he said and gestured for the guarding men to stand down.

  “Get up, you three. We’ve received orders to…escort you to General Holmes.”

  Three?

  James looked around him for their fourth companion. Anzabar had vanished. The guards sheathed their rifles, filed between the group and door then twisted around—James realized they expected them to move.

  “What about Colette?” he said.

  “We’ll take care of it. Let’s go—”

  James glared at the commander.

  “Please,” the commander said through clasped teeth.

  “Much better,” James said. “Thank you.”

  James watched Colette’s body pass as they lumbered through the vestibule. Exhausted and silent, they collected in the elevator.

  6

  Laughter echoed in the hallway.

  After a long walk, the commander deposited them before an office labeled “General Ethan Holmes.” He clicked his heels and fled. James felt sorry for the guy—he hadn’t gotten to kill anyone after all.

  Trevor peeked through the cracked door and nudged it open like a cautious dog who’d shit on the floor and wanted the matter to remain secret. “You crack me up, Theo!” The general and the man he had called Theo howled. Theo banged his fist against the desk. Tea flew from Ethan’s nostrils. Both guffawed, boisterous and altogether in a good mood. Trevor mustered a meager, “General?” but it was lost in their “who’s louder” match.

  Trevor rapped on the door’s window, to no effect.

  “For Christ’s sake, Trevor,” James said. “If they wanted us dead, we certainly wouldn’t be standing here.” He flung open the door.

  Theo spun around in an obscenely expensive fiber-mesh chair and locked eyes with James.

  “James Bixby, my boy!” he said. “So good to see you. The name’s Theo Watson III, at your service.” Theo stuck out his hand.

  James peered down, suspicious that Theo’s hand might contain a grenade or laser weapon or magical ring of power, but it was just a hand. A plain old hand. He shook it.

  “Um, hello…”

  This greeting caught James off guard, and he grew leery. Words failed him. Trevor stood silent, meek. Olivia sauntered in after them and glowered at Ethan and Theo. Theo’s wide smile created an awkward tension—a hyperbolic friendliness considering these men had just conducted a ritual designed to kill two of the room’s occupants—one that had killed five others.

  “You wanted to see us sir?” Trevor said, but Holmes ignored him.

  “Well, I guess that’s about it for me then, eh?” Holmes said, clapping his hands against his lap and standing. He faced Theo. “It’s been a pleasure. I will see you in a month—maybe two. Who knows! Never taken a sabbatical before—this is new territory for me.”

  “Likewise my friend! Listen, no hard feelings about you locking me up and almost ruining the ritual,” Theo said. “Really, it’s all good. Keep yourself together and be safe. Learning how to relax can be a challenge!”

  Holmes’ faked a shiver, grinning.

  “Trevor, Theo will fill you in, but I’m taking a leave of absence. Today marks the first grave mistake I’ve made in years—it’s time I reevaluate a few things,” Holmes said and slapped Trevor’s back as he moseyed from the office.

  A second later, Ethan popped his head through the open door and said, “Oh, and Trevor, good work today. Theo’s taking over now—make me proud.”

  “Uh, yes sir…?” Trevor said.

  Olivia collapsed against James, and he leaned against her, exhausted.

  “Close the door behind you, will you?” Theo said.

  “Yes, right away,” Trevor said and closed the door.

  Theo’s demeanor darkened and he scrutinized the three of them as Trevor turned around. A poignant pause followed—James yearned to hear something, anything, to fill the void between his ears. Theo locked his gaze on Trevor, whose cheeks flushed.

  “Well, Trevor, you’ve outdone yourself,” Theo said. “And you two—James and…Olivia is it? I must say, I’m impressed. Not only did you survive the ritual but you defeated Amida. Unprecedented.”

  “Sir? May I be frank?” Trevor said.

  “Drop the bullshit soldier act Trevor—when have you ever not been frank with me? You must have gone through some real shit down there.”

  James watched as a wave of relaxation flowed from Trevor’s face through his neck and into his body.

  “You have no fucking idea,” Trevor said and plopped down in a chair beside Theo. He slumped into the fiber-mesh chair, squeezing his temples.

  “Had a run in with ol’ Anzabar, eh?” Theo said.

  Trevor’s head bobbed up. “How did you know?”

  “C’mon, I haven’t run this show for twenty-some-odd years without learning a thing or two,” Theo said. “We knew there was an eighth entity present in the blood chambers—we just didn’t put two and two together, which was kinda stupid really, considering he was the one responsible for sealing them in. I had thought his soul degraded, eaten away. So, it was Anzabar. I’ll be damned…”

  “Yeah,” Trevor said. “Theo, Anzabar not only returned, but is up to something big. Like, super big. Like ending Magnus and its rituals once and for all.”

  Theo’s eyebrows shot up and he smiled.

  “Is that so? Incredible,” he said. “After all this time, eh? Jesus, why now?”

  James cleared his throat.

  “If I might add, apparently he was waiting for three…special ritual participants to come together.”

  Theo cast his cold eyes on James, and he wished he had kept quiet.

  “Special, you say? Well, I count two participants here and the rest are dead. Where’s the third?”

  James and Olivia looked at Trevor.

  Theo slapped the desk.

  “You? But you weren’t even a participant—and why are you special?” Theo said.

  “Um…well, it turns out that the three of us are descended from warriors who fought next to Anzabar. Apparently these warriors were also oracles, gifted with the ability to see where Anzabar could strike down the Gods. I know, it’s crazy. I’m not even sure I believe it—but how can I not? The man himself came to us in the flesh and gave us the lowdown,” Trevor said.

  Theo scrunched his left eyebrow and lifted the other.

  “Anzabar also said his final plan is now in motion,” Trevor said. “He wants to end the Gods forever, and needs our help.”

  “Well, without rituals, Magnus has no reason to exist. It loses its purpose. There are members of this organization who won’t want to see that happen, considering the influence they swing around the world,” Theo said. “We need to be careful about this.”

  “About what?” Trevor said.

  “I’m assuming you three are the only people on this planet who can do whatever it is you do to take down a God,” Theo said. “That means you need to be involved in the rituals, am I right?”

  Trevor nodded.

  “So, you need to be ‘selected’ as participants from here on, yes?”

  Trevor nodded.

  “I can make that happen,” Theo said.

  “But doesn’t that put you in danger?”
Trevor said.

  “All of us in great danger,” James said.

  Olivia elbowed James in the ribs.

  “Trevor, you and I both know that the rituals are a terrible thing. Each one destroys a part of my soul. I know you feel it,” Theo said. “If we can put the nail in the coffin and end this for good, I’m in.”

  “But wait, what happened with Holmes? He won’t stand for this,” Trevor said.

  Theo grimaced.

  “Yeah, well, about Holmes…” he said. “We had a bit of an accident. I’m afraid General Holmes is dead.”

  “What?” Trevor said.

  “Didn’t we just see him leave the room? Oh—and hello—but I can’t say it’s nice to meet you,” Olivia said.

  “Allow the pleasure to be mine then. And yes, you saw someone—something—leave the room, but it wasn’t General Ethan Holmes. My fault, but it can’t be helped now. Trevor, are you familiar with the dally—”

  “The dallylander? Are you kidding me?”

  “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Theo said. “I swear to you. As you know, Susan sent the distress signal. I was in a bind. Holmes had it out for me. Took over the ritual, sent me to detention, trumped up a bunch of ludicrous charges… Given the state of your ritual, I needed to do something, so I broke out of the detention center and called in a favor with Clayton.”

  “Clayton? He’s an accomplice?”

  “Yes and no. That guy is solid—he was against the whole thing, but I guilted him into doing it,” Theo said. “Listen—no one else knows. Holmes thought he was interrogating me and instead he roughed up a dallylander. Shit luck. It must have been a terrible way to go.” He lost himself for a moment in a distant spot on the wall, then continued. “Anyway, I put things together when Holmes was the only one to exit from my detention cell. They thought I’d somehow escaped again, with the cleanup job the dallylander performed—it never leaves a trace! When that happened, I got hold of the dallylander and gave it new commands.”

  “Commands?” Olivia said.

  Trevor leaned his head toward Olivia and said, “It has to obey the person who releases it.” He sighed, then propped his forehead on his hands and fell silent.

  “Anyway, I don’t like to speak ill of the dead, but Holmes was a dick—a nuisance to this organization. And now I have full control over Purgatory 8,” Theo said. “Had him drop all charges against me and put in for immediate leave. Will he come back? Probably not. The dallylander will soon return to its original shape and I will return it home.”

  James added Theo to the day’s list of people not to fuck with.

  “Now we need to worry about the executive council, especially the executive minister—she can be a right bitch,” Theo said. “Though I’ve gotten quite good at pushing her buttons. I doubt they will replace or relocate any other military officials to our post—not while I’m around.”

  James understood little of what Theo said. The day slowly turned into a dream as exhaustion overtook his sensibilities. Trevor offered him and Olivia a seat.

  They accepted.

  “Well, I suppose now we need to get you all home,” Theo said.

  7

  On. Off. On. Off.

  A cursor panned in and out of view on a Raspberry Pi terminal. The Pi, a computer no larger than a credit card, sat taped to the rear of a ten-inch monitor. Joe had built the rig himself, and his heart fluttered when he laid his hands upon it—not for its hackneyed construction (strips of duct tape held it together here and there), but for its discreet footprint: a jam-packed, fully loaded Linux terminal awaiting his behest. And if Joe knew how to do anything, it was wreak havoc with a trusty bash prompt.

  It lived in the MIT computer lab, hidden inside an unfrequented nook and out of sight. While MIT provided its students plenty of computing horsepower, Joe enjoyed a private machine to hack on from time to time—when tact trumped thunder.

  And it had just received an email from an IP address he couldn’t trace.

  Joe traced everything.

  He giggled like a small boy, cracked his knuckles and banged on the Pi’s keyboard.

  “Oh, James…what have you gotten yourself into?”

  8

  Olivia waved goodbye, careful to avoid hitting her head on the door as she climbed into the back of a black SUV parked by the front steps of a grey building in the middle of nowhere. James waved back, as did Trevor. A warm, fuzzy feeling expanded in her chest and she watched James crack a joke and elbow Trevor in the stomach.

  I trust James. Trevor too, I think.

  James had a brotherly quality—the kind of brother you wanted to introduce to your girlfriends, to proudly gush about. She liked that. She needed that. And, who knew, maybe James had a brother of his own she could meet. It dawned on her she didn’t know anything about him.

  All in due time.

  She anticipated the next few weeks would reveal to her many surprises—new discoveries about herself and about the world around her. She thought on Anzabar’s technique, and wanted to begin practice then and there, though she convinced herself to wait at least until she returned to London. These thoughts brought a smile to her lips.

  Olivia slid onto the soft leather cushion of the SUV’s backseat and enjoyed the sensation of tension leaving her body as the seat slowly enveloped her. Her eyelids grew heavy and she dreamed of an unlocked future.

  9

  James awoke with no idea where he was and the distinct feeling that any movement would result in agonizing pain. He twitched a pinky finger.

  Ouch.

  Sleep took him again.

  Hours later, he came alive in a familiar bed. He hazarded moving the same finger, finding it perfectly ambulatory and pain free. He courageously bent his elbow, then his shoulder, his opposing arm, his neck, his ankle, his knee. He gritted his teeth and clenched his abdomen, then pulled himself upright. Though dizzy, sore, nauseated and somewhat out of breath, there was something else: hope, evidenced by a tug at the corners of his lips. Oxygen from four or five deep breaths rejuvenated his acidic muscles, restoring a sense of homeostasis, and enabled him to amble out of bed.

  Is that my coffee table? And my kitchen counter? Home!

  White curtains, drawn the length of a floor-to-ceiling, panoramic skyline, blocked sunlight from entering his studio apartment. As to what time of day it was, he supposed that was the business of those outside—he dared not open the curtains lest the light sear his eyes and trigger a migraine.

  Then the cacophony of recent events slammed against his brain.

  He tumbled over a pair of worn jeans strewn on the floor. His breath fled from his lungs, offering no sign of return. The dim room’s walls suffocated him—and minutes or maybe hours later, his consciousness braved a second look at his surroundings.

  Holy shit. Was it all a dream?

  The daylight that seeped through his curtains had dwindled into dusk. He flung them apart. Chicago’s skyline greeted him, like it did every night, picturesque. Buildings loomed over tiny streets, and the soaring towers sparkled under romantic moonlight. James’ nightstand lit, surrounded by blue light and shadows that melted into the wall. His cellphone had received a message.

  Where the FUCK are u? TXT ME NOW!

  We are worried—this isn’t funny :(

  xo J

  It was a text message from Jessie, James’ sister, preceded by thirty-four others. This stark dose of reality threw James for a loop. Yesterday (the day before? He wasn’t sure), he’d been dealing with undead creatures and secret societies. Or had he? James reached for the phone, but a banging on his front door interrupted him.

  He checked the time—10:47 p.m. Placing one foot in front of the other proved more difficult than he imagined, but he made his way to the door and peeked through the peephole.

  Joe Johnston.

  James turned the door’s handle, and Joe pushed his way into the apartment and took James by the shoulders.

  “Careful…” James said, but Joe didn’t h
ear him amidst his yelps of “Oh my God, bro!” and “You’re alive!”

  “Careful!” James said again as Joe bumped his head against the wall.

  “Oh, damn,” Joe said. Sorry, man. I was worried about you. Caught a flight out here to make sure you were okay. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I think so,” James said. Was he? “I feel like I got hit by a dump truck, though. What’s up?”

  “What’s up? Are you serious? I can’t even begin to describe what the last twenty-four hours have been like. Where the hell were you?”

  “I wish I could tell you.”

  “Oh man. Oh man. James! You are one sly bastard,” Joe said, looking into one of James’ eyes and then the other. “Do you remember? The email you sent me?”

  “Uh…I’ve sent you lots of emails.”

  “I see the problem here,” Joe said. “Come on.” He led James into the kitchen and sat him down in the breakfast nook, then set about grinding a precise amount of Peruvian coffee—James kept a delectable and varied stock on hand.

  After a few minutes, Joe handed James a mug. Once a barista at a snobby coffee shop, he knew how to craft a fantastic pour-over cup of joe.

  “Drink dude—I need your grey matter switched on.”

  James sipped, the hot liquid’s bitter first bite attacking his palate. As the beans’ delicious flavor washed over his tongue, he felt a smile form on his lips.

  “Oh, damn, I needed this. Thanks,” James said, then the fridge caught his eye and his mouth watered. “Hold up, I need some food.”

  James devoured a pound of sliced turkey, a bag of asparagus and a bowl of frozen blueberries.

  “Dear God, that is so much better.”

  “Okay, glad to see you’re back on earth,” Joe said. “James, listen to me carefully. We have a situation.”

  “Yeah, yeah… Something about an email?”

  “Don’t play stupid with me—you sent me an email twenty-nine hours ago from an untraceable IP, along with a backdoor.”

  James snorted his coffee.

  “Holy shit! I did! Oh my God. It did happen. Joe, you gotta forget about it. I shouldn’t have involved you.”