by Lincoln Cole
“I’ve never seen a single customer here.”
“I mean, not a lot of them or anything, but I do have some.”
He trailed off at the sound of a car door closing. It echoed to them from outside. Mitchell stopped, midstride, and then rushed over to the front glass window. He peered out, and then backed away slowly. “She’s here.”
“Okay.”
“She’s coming. What do we do?”
“Calm down.” Dominick rose from his seat. “Don’t overreact. Take some deep breaths and relax. Everything will work out fine.”
Did he say that for Mitchell or himself?
A few seconds later, the front door of the shop opened. Frieda strode in, carrying a bag and moving with purpose. She took a few hesitant steps into the room, and then saw Mitchell and Dominick waiting for her. After a glance between the two of them, she frowned. “You already know? Did Haatim call you guys?”
“Know what?”
“About Abigail. She’s alive. The Church got it wrong, but she’s hurt. Nida found the last bloodline and has everything she needs to complete the ritual.”
Mitchell and Dominick exchanged a glance.
“But that’s not what you have those expressions for, is it?” she asked. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”
The two men exchanged another glance, and then Dominick cleared his throat. “Frieda. We need to talk.”
***
Calm, Frieda walked to the front of the room and set her bag on the counter next to Dominick. She looked at him, her expression mixed apprehension and worry. Two looks he had rarely seen on her face in the entire time he’d known her.
She argued, trying to misdirect, “We don’t have time for this. Haatim is on his way here with Abigail. Nida has a good lead on us, and we don’t even know where she’s going.”
“Frieda …”
“Whatever you have to say to me, it can wait. It has to wait. They should get here in less than twelve hours, which means we have that much time to figure out what we should do next.”
“I know, but this is important.”
“What could possibly have more importance than dealing with Nida and stopping all of this before anyone else gets hurt? Now, come on; we need to get everything ready and—”
“Did the Council create Surgat?”
“What? Ridiculous. Did Mitchell tell you that nonsense? One of his crazy conspiracy theories?”
Dominick took a deep breath. “Did you perform a ritual on Abigail?”
Frieda froze, body tensing. The expression on her face showed utter shock and disbelief, mixed in with a hint of shame.
Dominick had his answer.
Without thinking, he slid his pistol free of the holster and held it at his side. Though he didn’t aim it at her, the threat came loud and clear. His hand trembled, and beads of sweat formed on his forehead.
“Do you serve them? Do you work for the Ninth Circle, now?”
“What? No, of course not. You know I don’t.”
“Do I? Do I know anything about you anymore?” He turned toward Mitchell and nodded. “Show her.”
Mitchell pulled out the stack of papers that Abigail had brought to him a few weeks earlier and set them on the counter. Frieda looked at them, and her face fell when she recognized them.
“He kept them,” she mumbled, shaking her head. “I begged Arthur to destroy those.”
“Arthur helped you with the ritual,” Dominick said. “Mitchell told me everything. The leaders of The Ninth Circle formed the Council, and we created Surgat originally. The Council bound one of their own to the demon. One of our own.”
“It isn’t that simple,” Frieda said, speaking slowly. “Please, put down the gun.”
Dominick ignored her. “It’s all right there in the text. The historical account. The real history of the Council and the Order. We’re the cult we fight against.”
“Were,” Frieda said. “Not anymore. Yes, the original Council created Surgat, and yes, we did come from a sect of the Ninth Circle. My forebears helped bring Surgat into existence through a ritual, but they also stopped him and locked him away in his hellish prison. They realized their mistake and the error of their ways.”
“Or they simply got caught and begged forgiveness.”
“We stopped Surgat.”
“Out of necessity.”
“Maybe. I wasn’t there. But I do know that the Church let us live and gave us purpose.”
“The Church forgave you?”
“They didn’t forgive us. They didn’t kill us either. They murdered every cultist they could find that didn’t help them stop Surgat and spared our forebears. The seven that remained formed into the Council. It proved, depending on how you look at it, either a penance or a reward.”
“Why have I never heard any of this before?”
“Almost no one knows of it,” Frieda said. “Dominick, could you please put the gun away?”
He hesitated, and then he slid his weapon back into his holster.
Frieda let out a deep breath when it disappeared and rubbed her face. “Thank you.”
“Where do these papers come from?”
“That copy of the text is one of the final surviving pieces of our legacy that tells the whole story. The Catholic Church considers it too dangerous to let out of the archives, but my family had a copy. My father said it gave a reminder and that we should never forget. We spent centuries trying to escape that legacy, and gradually, the Church trusted us more and more. We found a way we could serve them, and they helped disguise our truth.”
Dominick shook his head. “Insane. Then it’s all true: our legacy comes from the very cult we actively hunt.”
She sighed. “That makes the whole reason the Church kept those original seven alive. They’d worked in The Ninth Circle; they knew how the cult operated, and the Church could use them as a weapon against them. For years, the original Council hunted down their friends and allies, and that’s how the Hunters formed. The Ninth Circle hates us for betraying them as much as we hate them.”
Dominick stayed silent for a long time, digesting all the information. “How could you keep this from us?”
“My father taught the whole history to me, and he told me it made the great shame of my family that we helped bring such evil into this world. Surgat killed hundreds of innocent people before my forebears stopped him. He said that our duty had become to wash the stain clean from our legacy, but that it remained a legacy for me alone.”
“The Council didn’t know?”
“They knew none of this. Even Jill Reinfer had no idea of the legacy of our ancestors. Her father did, but he never passed it on to his daughter. He didn’t trust her with the information.”
“For good reason.”
She nodded. “She would have used it against us.”
“So, what happens now?”
“Nothing has changed,” Frieda said. “We still have to stop Nida. The only difference is that now you know the true stake of this.”
As she said it, she looked over at Mitchell. He stood as still as a statue, bug-eyed with a concerned look on his face, and shocked by all of this.
Dominick felt conflicted. Though Frieda had lied and kept things from him, he’d known her most of his life, and she’d never lied without good reason, and everything she said sounded reasonable. It still hurt that she’d withheld it, but he understood her reasons.
Even regarding Abigail, he couldn’t blame Frieda for wanting to save her life. After all of this, he didn’t know whether he would have done the same thing or not.
Part of him remained unsure if he could trust her, but he couldn’t stay in two minds about this. Either he would have to trust that they worked on the same side, or he would need to turn his back on her completely.
In the end, it came down to knowing Frieda as a person. She might not have told him everything, but he knew her heart, and Frieda had the heart of a good woman.
He would have to trust her.
“Both of you know the full truth, now,” Frieda said.
“This … this …” Mitchell shook his head. “Holy hell.”
“You said Haatim located Abigail?” Dominick asked.
“Yes. He’s bringing her here.”
“How did she get hurt?”
“The Church found her. They tried to murder her, and they believe themselves successful.”
“Why does the Church want her dead?”
“Not just her,” Frieda said. “Father Paladina warned me that they won’t come after just Abigail now.”
“They want us too.”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“Mitchell told me. Is it true? How could it be true?”
She turned to Mitchell. “How did you know?”
“I have contacts,” he said, stiff with defense. “Friends you don’t even know about.”
She looked at him, skeptical, but didn’t refute his claim. “All of us. They have ordered for all of us to be killed.”
***
A moment of silence slipped past.
“What do you mean, ‘all of us’?” Mitchell asked into the deathly quiet. “Does that … does that include me, now, too?”
“Anyone who has an affiliation with the Council will get hunted down and killed by the Catholic Church,” Frieda said.
Mitchell hesitated. “So … is that a yes? I’m on the list?”
“Yes.”
“Crap.”
“Why?” Dominick asked. “Why would they do this?”
“I suppose they’ve decided we’ve outlived our usefulness. You know our history. Maybe they think we’ve returned to our old ways. Or maybe it’s just punishment for what Aram did. He didn’t only betray us but the Church as well. I don’t know, but they intend to wipe the entire Council from existence and finish what Nida started.”
Another moment passed. “Crap,” Mitchell said again, and then rushed to the back of the store. “I need to pack.”
Dominick and Frieda both ignored him. Dominick asked, “How do we get them to stop?”
“They won’t.”
“Even if we stop Nida?”
“In their eyes, Nida is a symptom of the disease. They intend to make deep cuts with their scalpel to protect themselves.”
“Then, shouldn’t we run?” Mitchell popped his head back out of the rear room of the shop. “Get the hell out of dodge and find somewhere to hide until all of this blows over?”
“The Catholic Church has existed for thousands of years,” Frieda said. “And they have a long memory. This won’t just ‘blow over.’”
“All the more reason to find a great hiding place.”
Dominick stared at Frieda. After a moment, he nodded. “Hiding isn’t what we stand for,” he said. “Aram created this mess for us, but we have just as much accountability as him for letting things go this far.”
“True.” Frieda nodded. “It doesn’t end with Aram. We all hold responsibility for the decisions we’ve made. I, myself, have made more mistakes than I can count. I will not stop until either the demon inside Nida goes back to hell, or I do. The two of you, however, can choose for yourself. The Council has disbanded, as well as the Order of Hunters. You no longer have to accept my commands, Dominick.”
He nodded. “I know.”
“You can return to your husband and find somewhere safe to live if you want. I have some funds I can acquire for you to help you start over, and with new identities, you could disappear and begin a new life. The Church doesn’t see you as a priority for elimination, so they might forget about you after a few years and just let you go.”
“A tempting offer,” Dominick said. “But I’ll have to decline, with all due respect. Nida remains too dangerous, and from everything I’ve heard, Surgat is much worse. If the Church has too much arrogance to bother chasing down the real threat, then someone has to stop her before innocent people die.”
“I hoped you might say that.”
“I wish you would have told me the truth … about all of this. But, I understand your reasons. I’ll stay in this until the end.”
Frieda turned and glanced over at Mitchell.
“How much money are we talking about?” Mitchell rubbed his chin. “Do you have enough for me to retire and live comfortably, or …?”
Frieda frowned. “Mitchell.”
“Just kidding,” he said. “I promised Arthur I would look after Abigail after he’d gone, and what kind of brother would I make if I let down my deceased sibling? I’m not sure how much help I can offer, but I’ll stick with you guys until the end.”
Frieda nodded, and a relieved expression washed over her face. “Good. I’m glad that we’ve got that settled.”
“So, this is happening for real?” Dominick asked. “We’ll try and stop Nida?”
“Yes. As soon as we find out where she went to, we’ll need to move. Now, we don’t have a lot of time before Haatim and Abigail get here, so let’s get to work.”
Chapter 25
Haatim.
The word hit him like a tornado, popping up in the middle of nowhere. It ripped through his mind, and an intense feeling of confusion hit him when he tried to understand.
One second he lay unconscious, and the next he had become fully aware but unable to comprehend events. The last thing he remembered, he’d stepped onto the plane in England with Abigail to start the last leg of his journey to the United States, but no more than that.
He didn’t feel like he rode on a plane right now, though, or anywhere else for that matter. Just a floating emptiness, like a dream but unlike any dream he had ever experienced before. It felt too real, too precise.
Haatim.
His arms pinned in place, an unconscionable weight rested across his body and kept him still. Paralyzed, it felt like he floated on a bed of salt water, resting atop it yet unable to sink inside.
Haatim.
His sister’s voice: not the one controlled by the demon but rather the one he’d known and loved growing up. The sweet little girl who had always teased and made fun of him. At first, he thought it a memory, something from their past, but then he realized it came from the here and now.
Rather, the words came from right next to him. As though she whispered into his ear, but he couldn’t turn his head to see her in the emptiness.
Her voice sounded like the little girl he’d looked after before she had gotten sick. Always giggling, happy, and full of life. She remained out there somewhere, calling to him, far out in the darkness of the ether, and he could hear the fear in her voice.
The sensation seemed less like she said words, though, and more as if they passed through him like a feeling. Haatim couldn’t wrap his mind around what had just happened and only knew that it continued to happen. His sister had called out to him, and she’d tried to reach him.
Come find me.
Her voice sounded weak, barely audible. He didn’t know her location, or even his right now. Did he remain on the plane, or somewhere else? He didn’t know. It all blended, and reality no longer made any sense. Haatim couldn’t focus on anything except that his sister was in trouble, and he had to save her.
Save her?
The thought felt muddied and heavy. Wrong, somehow. He didn’t need to try to save her; he needed to try to stop her, right? She’d become the enemy, the evil demon trying to wreak havoc on the world. She had murdered the entire Council and countless other innocent people.
His sister had gone, died, and whatever inhabited her body had turned her into something else entirely, right?
Right?
Please, come.
What if she hadn’t gone, after all? What if he had gotten it right all along, and his sister did need help? Unfortunately, he couldn’t help her. He had tried and failed.
But, what if the real Nida remained inside there, trapped and suffocating under the weight of the demon? Haatim felt paralyzed, unable to move, but perhaps that gave a reflection of what Nida felt somewhere out in the w
orld as she passed emotions to him.
If that proved the case, then he had to try and rescue her. Damn the risk. Damn his weakness. He wouldn’t give up until she became free or he died. Haatim couldn’t leave his sister under the control of the demon.
He couldn’t just abandon her. But, even if that proved the case, how could he possibly save her? She could remain anywhere out in the world by now.
No, not anywhere.
Raven’s Peak.
The demon had gone back. He knew that with one hundred percent certainty, even though he had no idea how he knew it. The feeling came clear and blinding in the dark ether, and he knew it as right.
Haatim, I don’t have much time.
He tried calling back, I’m coming. But something else intruded. Not only his sister had a presence now.
He could feel the demon, and it loomed in all its fury.
Haatim tried to push back, to break free of whatever held him in place, but it proved of no use. He felt helpless and weak, pathetic and broken. His sister felt this way too, trapped inside her body with the demon.
And now it had come for him.
He struggled, crying out and feeling as if in the midst of drowning. He suffocated. He couldn’t breathe.
And the demon got closer.
It reached out to him.
***
A tap on his shoulder jerked him awake. The sudden glaring light in his face made him blink and cover his face, and it took him a second to realize he could move.
He could move.
The relief of that knowledge overwhelmed him, and he let out a somewhat delirious chuckle while his body relaxed. It took a moment to orient himself, and he saw that he remained on the flight to John Glenn International Airport. He had simply fallen asleep and dreamed.
Several of the nearby passengers sat staring at him, confused expressions on their faces. A sheen of sweat covered him, and all his muscles felt sore and tight like they had all clenched simultaneously. He relaxed and leaned back in his seat, still breathing hard but bringing himself under control.
“You okay?”
The voice caught him off guard. Abigail occupied the window seat next to him. She had a concerned look on her face as she studied him. At least she looked healthy now, completely awake and healed after her recent injuries.
