by Kris Greene
“I knew you were full of shit.” De Mona extended her claws and stalked toward Jonas.
“No, it’s okay.” Gabriel raised his hand to stop her. With fire in his eyes he looked up at Jonas. “What happened?” he asked. When he tried to stand his legs were shaky, but Jonas helped to steady him.
“In due time, my friend. You’ve been through a great deal and need to rest. After you’ve had a chance to recover we’ll speak more of what has passed and what will be.”
“So what? We’re just supposed to forget that he’s a demon and that this jackass tried to kill Azuma?” Asha pointed at Jonas and Morgan respectively.
“Enough, Asha, they mean us no harm,” Gabriel said.
Asha cut her eyes at Gabriel. “And what makes you such a good judge of character all of a sudden?”
“This.” Gabriel tapped the Nimrod on the ground and sent a faint wave of magic through the room. “Asha, I’m just as leery about all of this as you guys, but I think Jonas may be able to help me better understand what this thing is and what it wants. Once we figure that out we may actually stand a chance at stopping Titus.”
“As much as I want to kick myself for saying so, he may have a point,” Lydia said. “These guys have been at it a lot longer than we have so they may have some helpful insight as to the best way to stop the invasion.”
“Or kill us when we let our guard down,” Asha replied.
“Rogue, what do you think?” Lydia asked the mage.
“Like I said earlier, I think there’s strength in numbers.”
“A house divided,” Finnious said.
Gabriel weighed the situation. “As much as I want to figure this Nimrod thing out I understand it’s not just about me anymore. What happens from here on out affects all of us. If we move, then we move as a team.”
Asha folded her arms. “So we’re a team now?”
Gabriel looked around at the sea of faces, each waiting for him to reply. “Like it or not, destiny has forced us together to serve some greater purpose then feeling sorry for ourselves. I don’t know about you guys, but I’m tired of running. It’s time we took the fight to them.”
“Then I guess it’s settled.” Rogue holstered his gun.
Jonas spread his arms and bowed from the waist. “Welcome and be recognized, Knights of Christ.”
Just then the doors to the hangar flew open.
Jackson rushed into the room with both blades drawn. “Okay, you big-ass gorilla, let’s see you try that . . .” His words trailed off when he noticed that the fighting had stopped and everyone was staring at him awkwardly. “What’d I miss?”
CHAPTER FIVE
After brokering an uneasy truce between Jackson and Azuma, Jonas led them to the back of the hangar. He knocked on the wall in a complex pattern and revealed a freight elevator behind the false wall. No one really trusted the pre-prohibition-looking thing, but it was the only way into the heart of the lair.
The elevator shook when it started its descent, throwing De Mona off balance and into Jackson’s arms. When she looked up at his beaming face she quickly shrugged him off.
“You ain’t the only chick to ever shrug me off and come to her senses after the fact,” Jackson teased her.
De Mona rolled her eyes. “Please, I’d rather go down on a Stalker.”
Morgan laughed. “That was a good one.” He nudged Jackson playfully.
“Whose side are you on here, red?” Jackson asked him.
“Now, now, children, it’s only a little while longer to the main level. The heart is just short of a mile below surface level,” Jonas explained as the elevator came to an almost soundless stop.
“How can we have gone a mile when we’ve only been on the elevator for a few minutes?” Gabriel asked.
“Technology has come a long way over the years.” Jonas placed his hand on the elevator door. “To someone to whom time means nothing, the possibilities are endless. Welcome to my workshop.” Jonas slid the elevator door open and Gabriel’s jaw dropped.
Stepping off the elevator was like stepping onto the bridge of the Starship Enterprise. The walls were all made from a smooth metal that looked like steel, but when you ran your hands along it, it felt more like solid rock. Whatever the material was, only Jonas knew. A tube ran the entire length of the walls and occasionally the group caught a glimpse of a ball of light that made its speedy rounds through the tubes. In the center of the room there was a high-backed black swivel chair with two complex control panels mounted on the arms. The northern wall was composed of dozens of small monitors, each showing real-time images of major intersections in New York City. The upper level of the lair was little more than the salvage yard it appeared to be, but the workshop was a marvel.
“You built all this?” Gabriel asked, examining one of the two stone gargoyles that sat on either side of the elevator door. To his surprise the stone was warm to the touch.
“Most of it. Some stuff had to be appropriated;” Jonas admitted.
“Yeah, we had the five-finger discount,” Jackson joked.
“Nice bling,” Asha said, picking up a strange-looking necklace from one of the workstations only to have Jonas politely pluck it from her hands.
“That’s no necklace, it’s a restraint.” Jonas pressed a button and a series of lights began flashing around the collar. He picked up a wristwatch that flashed in time with the lights on the collar. “We use these to control some of the nastier things we come across until we can figure ways of properly disposing of them.”
“What the hell did you guys do, rob NASA or something?” De Mona asked, staring at the restraint.
“No, the Pentagon, but only for the hardware. The American government is by far one of the most advanced nations when it comes to weaponry, but they’re still a few years behind compared to some of the other nations like Japan.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it, not even in Sanctuary.” Finnious marveled at all the equipment.
“And you probably never will, at least not in the near future. The technology itself was taken from many places, but the design is mine. Everything you see was built or modified by my hands,” Jonas explained.
“I can’t believe one person built all this,” Gabriel said, still in awe of Jonas’s workshop.
“I had a little help.” Jonas nodded to Jackson and Morgan.
“So, what made you do all this?” De Mona asked. She was still trying to figure out what a creature as ancient as Jonas claimed to be would need or want with a computer, let alone a dozen of them.
“Because I realized that the battle between good and evil could no longer be fought with just wood and steel. As the times changed so did my methods of carrying out justice.”
“How did this whole vigilante thing come about anyhow?” Rogue asked.
Jonas hesitated, searching for the right words. “It’s a long story, but let’s just say I was a victim of my own naiveté.”
Asha shrugged. “Doesn’t sound so bad to me.”
“It is when your mistakes cost the lives of an entire species,” Jonas said sadly. “When I watched my city and all its knowledge go up in flames, set burning by Titus and his lot, I wanted to do little more than lie down and die, but my rage fueled me to commit acts that I am none too proud of.” The snakes on his head seemed to focus on De Mona when he said this. “I needed all who represented the evil that destroyed my people to suffer, and suffer they have at my hands. The vampires, Stalkers, demons, I’d track them to their resting places and destroy them. As I got better at it I would sometimes track down entire nests of the monsters and send them screaming back to hell.”
“And you did all this by yourself?” Lydia asked. Her voice was heavy with sorrow.
“For the most part. From time to time I would come across others who felt as I did and wanted to aid me in my fight against the dark forces, but the relationships never lasted. They’d either fall victim to time and old age or the darkness while I remained, so I closed myself off and did
my work alone. That was a lonely time for me, the first century or two on the path.”
“So what made Morgan and Jackson so special that you stuck together?” De Mona asked.
Jonas smiled a bit. “You mean besides the fact that we were three souls who had lost everything? Much like me, Morgan is among the last of a dying race. We haven’t been able to find out for sure, but there are said to be less than twenty of them left here or in Midland.”
“Not that I’d care to be involved in their foolishness were we still a flourishing people,” Morgan cut in. He didn’t say it, but everyone could tell it was a sore spot for him.
“Morgan’s people have been engaged in a very complicated civil war,” Jonas explained.
“Why fight if there are so few of you left?” De Mona asked Morgan.
Morgan was about to tell her that it was none of her business, but when he looked into the girl’s questioning eyes he couldn’t help but to see flashes of himself. Who knew better than he what it was like to be abandoned by your own race and shunned by the one with whom you sought refuge? “For the same reason why jackals will still fight over the carcass of something that died more than a week ago: because that’s what they’re programmed to do. As far as I’m concerned it makes no difference whether Storm or Magma sits on the throne.”
“What’s Magma?” Finnious asked, but Lydia waved him silent so that Jonas could finish.
“I’ll bet the fact that he’s packing that hammer didn’t hurt any either?” Asha chimed in.
Jonas chuckled. “No, the hammer has saved us more times than any of us care to recall. It has literally been the foundation of our crusade.”
“And you, what do you bring to the table?” De Mona asked Jackson. There was no mistaking the challenge in her voice, but Jackson was never one to back down from a fight.
“Me.” He stepped forward. “I do the stuff nobody else wants to.” He flicked his blades and crisscrossed them.
“Jackson is somewhat of an oddity among us. I’m ashamed to say I haven’t quite figured him out,” Jonas said. “When you are infected with the vampire virus it ravages your body and devours your natural cells, which is why vampires must drink blood for the body to function. In Jackson it seems to have worked in reverse, with his cells feeding on the virus. Jackson possesses some extraordinary abilities, but we have yet to come up with a classification for him.”
“But he has been infected, so doesn’t that make him a vampire?” Lydia asked, a little more defensively than she intended to.
“I ain’t no stinking vamp, so get that idea out of your head, little girl,” Jackson snapped.
“I didn’t mean to imply . . .”
“Nah, they never do. And let me make something clear to everybody right now.” Jackson’s eyes swept the room. His voice was heavy with emotion when he spoke. “Yeah, some vamps took a chunk outta my ass and left me to wake up a bloodsucker, but I didn’t. Will the virus one day overrun my system and turn me?” He shrugged. “I don’t know and honestly I’m not worried about it. Maybe I’ll never completely turn or maybe I’ll turn tomorrow, but it’s not important. What is important is putting as many of these bastards to sleep as possible while I’m still here.”
“And you’ll be here for a long time to come, old friend,” Morgan assured him. The big man hoisted the box holding Gilchrest and nodded at Jackson. “Why don’t you come and help me stow this little bastard?”
Jackson gave one last look around the room to make sure he had made his point before following Morgan.
“I didn’t mean to offend him, Jonas,” Lydia said sincerely.
“Lydia, you didn’t offend him. You just reminded him of the reality of his situation. None of us are without our shortcomings, but in time we will overcome, including Jackson,” Jonas said. He looked at the large digital clock on the wall. “Come, we’ll go into the next room and see what we can do about unraveling this mystery.”
On the way into the next room Asha wandered over to the monitors and studied them. In a deserted alley somewhere in the Bronx was a shaggy-looking old man rummaging through some trash cans. He suddenly stopped his trash sifting and looked up. If Asha didn’t know any better she would have sworn he was looking directly at the camera. The monitor went fuzzy for a second; when it cleared the old man was gone and the trash cans were undisturbed. Shaking off what she had just seen, she looked at the other monitors. She did a double take when she saw the one blinking in the top left corner. The camera was trained on the entrance of the Triple Six nightclub, which seemed to be unusually abuzz for that time of day considering it didn’t open until after dark. Asha was trying to make heads or tails of what was going on when the Big Bad Witch herself came storming out. She didn’t look happy.
Angelique’s long fur coat blew in the morning breeze while two witches whom Asha didn’t know by name tried to grovel and keep pace with her at the same time. Asha could see the last remnants of magic fading from Angelique’s eyes, so she knew her presence at the Triple Six hadn’t been social. The Triple Six was a SoHo club that catered to the supernatural, but it was also the haven of the Black Court.
“I wonder what could be wrong with her,” a voice called behind Asha. She turned to see Rogue also watching the monitor over her shoulder, observing Angelique. She was the queen of the White Court and at times the consort of the Black King Dutch.
“I haven’t the slightest idea,” Asha said, and turned away from the monitor.
“Bullshit. Asha, what’s Dutch’s angle in all this, seriously?”
Asha frowned. “My king’s business is his business.”
Rogue shook his head. “That dude sent you on a suicide mission and you’re still covering for him? I didn’t know that the new followers of the Black Court were so naive these days.”
Asha frowned at the insult. “Dutch trusts me to be his eyes and ears on the streets because I’m the most qualified witch for the job. Unlike Angelique’s bunch, I don’t shun the darkness. I command it.” She raised the dagger she always carried. It was as black as night with a hilt carved from the bone of an infant. The cursed blade was the only thing she had left to remember her mother by.
“And who commands you?” Rogue took Asha by the arm and steered her toward the corner where they could speak privately. “Let’s talk turkey, girlie, because my patience is sure gonna run thin soon. I know Dutch is either stupid or crazy enough to go after the Nimrod, but we both know that Angelique wouldn’t touch magic that black with a ten-foot pole. From the look on her face when she came out of the Triple Six, Dutch has done something to piss her off, and nine times outta ten it has to do with the Nimrod. What’s good?”
Asha glared up at him and sighed. “Everybody with a line to the inside knows the Nimrod’s in New York, so it’s only natural for the major players to make a bid for it. I was sent out to find out what had caused the disturbance and bring my findings back to Dutch. I didn’t know anything about Gabriel or that fancy pig poker until he showed up at his buddy’s apartment last night.”
“And where does Angelique fit into this?” he pressed her.
“I told you I don’t know.”
“Is everything okay?” Jonas called. All eyes had suddenly turned to the whispering magicians.
“Right as rain,” Asha replied. She went to rejoin the group but Rogue grabbed her by the arm.
“Asha, you know I can’t let you take that thing back to Dutch.”
She gave him a faint chuckle. “After what I saw it do, I’m not sure I even want to.”
As Asha walked away from the screen two more familiar faces came into view and entered the Triple Six.
CHAPTER SIX
Dutch wore the expression of a worried man. For the last hundred years, under one name or another, he had been the undisputed ruler of the Black Court and one of the most powerful spell casters in the world. But that morning he felt like he had as a child when he would nervously wait for his father to come home and beat him for one thing or another.
His normally immaculate office was in a state of disarray. Papers were strewn everywhere and there was glass all over the floor and embedded in his antique desk. Better his furniture than his flesh, he reasoned, because it could have just as easily played out that way. His greed had forced him to make a grave mistake, and now he was left with the puzzle of how to fix it.
Something very ancient and very powerful had been awakened in New York. All who were gifted enough in the blood felt the magic sweep across the city, a force so powerful that it made some of the most ancient inhabitants in New York take refuge elsewhere. The smart ones avoided the disturbance, but Dutch sought to control it . . . so he had called upon his prized pupil, Asha.
Dutch had dispatched the young Huntress on a secret mission to solve the mystery and claim the power for the Black Court. By the time the other three courts even realized what was happening, Dutch would control it all. But something had gone wrong.
Lucy Brisbane had thumbed her nose at her mother’s legacy since she was old enough to form an opinion, but it still didn’t change the fact that she was royalty at the White Court. Now she was dead and Asha was the suspect. The two girls had hated each other since their earliest days at court, and the rivalry only became more intense as they got older. Dutch found it hard to believe that it had become fatal, but Angelique wouldn’t have made the accusation unless she was sure. Blood magic had been used at the scene of the crime and though there were a few blood witches left in the city, Asha was the only one skilled enough to kill with the craft. The only reason he didn’t find himself under siege at the moment was because of Lucy’s familiar. The agents of the White Court had found the thing alive at the scene of the crime. The ferret was in some sort of coma, so they hadn’t learned anything from it. The fact that it still lived improved the odds that Lucy may still be alive, but didn’t guarantee it. The bond between familiar and witch was a powerful one, but it was not unheard of for one to live after the other had passed.
