by Rick Heinz
Gabriel ran back into the building and came out with a wounded doctor. JJ’s heart skipped. She was the one Bollard pinned to the floor inside a summoning circle. Gabriel shouted out to Slade. “Get her to the ambulance now!” Then he ran back inside a third time. Fire had more than engulfed the building. The flames were so high they seemed to claw at the belly of low-hanging clouds. We need to kill that doctor. She can spoil our secret. JJ ran to offer assistance to Slade.
“Go help others. I have her,” JJ said. Slade, his muttonchops burned off on the left side of his face, nodded and ran to a soldier who was screaming as scarabs were still burrowing beneath his skin.
The doctor’s eyes widened when she realized whose care she was in. Before she could scream, Mr. Bollard pinched her nose and covered her mouth with his leather gloves. “Shhhh, you don’t want to live in this new world anyway. Go to heaven, dear,” JJ whispered in her ear. Mr. Bollard ensured that nobody else was looking. Death by suffocation was common in fires.
Gabriel came out minutes later. He carried a small girl wrapped up in a blanket. His blue eyes had teared up from the sting of smoke, and the rubber on his gym shoes had all but melted off.
He dropped to a knee, not from exhaustion, JJ realized, but from the mental stress. A cavalry sabre was strapped to Gabriel’s back, the gem in the hilt pulsing with green light.
As if Gabriel could feel Mr. Bollard staring at him, he looked over at JJ and the dead doctor. Gabriel stood and began walking with purpose in his direction. “Slade.” He pointed at Bollard.
Mr. Bollard looked for his nearest escape in case things went wrong. We can always make a run and dive into that rift. Think we can make it?
“Yo, what up, man?” replied Slade, who shook off a leather coat as he trotted alongside Gabriel.
Gabriel looked back to the building and to the doctor. She wasn’t moving. He leaned down and felt her pulse and confirmed what Mr. Bollard already knew. Slade and Gabriel gave each other a look that made Bollard’s hands clammy and cold despite the flames behind them. “Slade. Take care of these kids. Get ’em home. Here.” Gabriel handed over a wad of cash. “Pizza, ice cream, movies. Whatever they want. I’ll check on them later. I need to handle this first. Got it?”
Mr. Bollard began to creep to the side, ensuring a clear path into the building if needed. Slade offered Gabriel a smile and a solid handshake. “Pleasure working with you. We got this. Do your thing.”
The moment Slade turned around and began herding the patients, Gabriel reached out and grabbed Mr. Bollard’s tie, pulling him up so only his toes touched the ground.
“You little fuck. What do you think you’re doing? Pay attention to your job, you little shit. Helping a dive squad here? This area is off-limits! Everyone knows that.” Gabriel shook JJ as he spoke.
“A bit rash, don’t you think? Containment was needed here. Carrion eaters began to leak out first. I only took advantage of the situation, turned it into a diving mission. Besides, it leads nowhere. You saw for yourself. Just an endless vortex down. You will take your hands off me. I don’t take orders from you,” JJ said.
“You work as a petty squad commander in the society, underneath Delilah, who is underneath Primus Vryce. We both serve the same person.” Gabriel released JJ and added an extra push to make a point.
JJ brushed himself off and regained his balance. “Yeah, the master, right.” JJ wanted to add an insult.
Gabriel has a hot temper. Don’t provoke him directly. Easy to lure. Switch his focus off us onto something else, Mr. Bollard said from within.
“You come from noble lineage, Gabriel. Have you even thought about why this site was off-limits?” JJ asked.
Gabriel’s jaw was clenched so tightly veins protruded from his neck. JJ felt Gabriel’s hand quivering with anger around his tie. “Because that doctor who died was the expert in treating blood addiction,” he said.
“The master cherry-picks you out of a pool of dozens. Clearly, he thinks you’re special.” JJ reached behind Gabriel and tapped the hilt of the sword. “Maybe you should be investigating your selection process and question your boss on why that kid you pulled from the fire looks just like you.” JJ smiled and pushed Gabriel back with a fraction of Mr. Bollard’s strength.
Gabriel looked back at the kids in the distance, and it was all the distraction they needed to put steps between them. Mr. Bollard could feel the questions and waves of doubt rising in Gabriel even though Gabriel only wore a mask of rage. Just let me have this feeling, JJ. I’ll let you play with your toy later. “Fine,” JJ said to himself, even though Gabriel was standing only paces away. “Tell you what, I’ll eat this error and do you a favor, Gabriel. I’ll quarantine this site and let the other dignitaries know it’s too dangerous. After all, they didn’t return, right?” JJ laid the bait.
Gabriel looked like he wanted to go back into the burning building for a moment before shaking his head and storming off to his own car. “You’re right. Lock it down. Thanks.” He slammed the door so hard that the window cracked. A few of the soldiers looked at each other in awkward silence.
This may be the best threshold for our dive yet. Can we get in long enough before the society stabs us in the back? They are clearly doing more than edging out the competition. What’s our play?
“We have time,” JJ replied.
“Wrap it up, boys! That’s enough containment tonight. Clean up and move out for the night,” JJ said to the remaining troops as he walked back to the car, grabbing the flask from the driver.
“Time for your pleasure. Delilah will be our move and way in. Tell Heaven’s Wrath that we are close,” JJ said before taking a swig, letting the booze take the edge off the cold night.
CHAPTER 27
Every warlock mastered his own personal magic. Even bound in the earth, it was a simple matter for Vryce to detach his mind from his body. No other warlock in existence was a master of possession to the degree that he was.
With that thought, his mind was floating among houses that each looked as bland and carbon copy as the next. He saw a nighttime runner trying to maintain his shape through exercise before whatever boring activity he would resume to pass his meaningless life. Vryce flowed into him, claiming the body for his own.
Ever since he had reclaimed the fifth shard of his soul, he no longer needed his iron nails. Still, Vryce wished he had some with him. Unless he nailed his shadow to the body, possession was all he was capable of. Centuries of occult knowledge and spells were still denied to him. For now anyway. He began his search through the London town, pausing outside each house to feel if he was close.
Vryce paused outside one house. The sound of a viola came from within. Early morning practice? The song “Ode to Joy” was being played with such perfection that his hand was brought to the jogger’s face to move a tear. It’s a shame that my soul resides here. This person is more useful alive than dead. The string instrument reminded him of the only woman he had loved in the centuries before he was taught the reality of time. Now, most humans looked like pet goldfish to him. He could only watch them grow old and die so many times before such a perception set in. Music remained timeless to him.
He jogged up to the front door and waited for the song to finish before knocking. An older gentleman opened the door. Gray hair lined his temples, and he was dressed in his finest suit. The viola was still in his hand, and the moment he saw the jogger, his jaw stiffened up and his eyes showed acceptance.
“So you’ve come at last,” he said.
Vryce had no reason to pretend. They could each feel one another on a different plane with tingles that ran down their spines. “I have. You have recovered something in your expeditions.”
“I suppose I do not have much choice in the matter.” The gentleman stepped back from the door and walked into his house.
Vryce stood and looked at the doorframe. “It would be polite of you to formally invite me in.”
“You may come in,” he said with a southern American ac
cent. “Will you allow me the honor of a final song before you end me?”
Vryce walked into the house, a cold breeze following him. The small house was filled with historic memorabilia. A set of bills from the 1800s were framed on the walls, a suit of armor was stationed upright in the foyer as a coat hook, and a pistol from World War I sat as a centerpiece on the table. “You aren’t from London,” Vryce said as he looked at the framed pictures. The gentleman was in all of them, and his age remained the same in each.
“The name is Jonas Mueller. I am a keeper of memory, just another sorcerer trying to find his place in the Unification. I paid for rights to dive here, and once I found that fragment, it spoke of its life and told me what it was. Knowing your legend, I felt it was only a matter of time before you arrived,” he said.
“I see,” Vryce replied. “I hope you are satisfied.”
“There are many who do not tolerate the existence of your kind. Yet no one here will listen with the ritual going awry as it has.” He sat down and picked up the viola once more.
“Hopefully you are not attached to what you’ve discovered.”
“Oh, I’m going to give it to you. I request a book from your libraries. The scrolls of the Dead Sea. I will add it to my collection in exchange for what is yours. Surely the arts of scholarly exchange are something you would uphold while within my home?” He began to play.
Vryce contemplated his options as he listened to the music. It was hypnotizing and calming at the same time. It drew him in. “Very well. I will see to it you are granted access to the libraries. All of them. Rather than one set of scrolls. You will be allowed to study to your heart’s content.”
“Excellent. I cannot wait to attend the Libraries of Deus,” Jonas said. He handed over the viola.
Vryce took the instrument and inspected it. On the inside were markings and sigils made in angel blood. He offered Jonas his hand to shake.
“Your soul sings beautifully, Mr. Vryce. You should remember that there are plenty of humans in this world worth saving.” He shook Vryce’s hand. He winced at the coldness that shot through him.
“It has been a pleasure. I will see you soon,” Vryce said as he left the home in a hurry.
The jogger ran to the mound where Vryce was buried. Vryce contemplated his options regarding Jonas and came to the only true conclusion. Delilah always chided me when I would let people survive. I am at a fraction of my power, either as a warlock or a lich. I can’t take the chance that he will spread word of what I’m doing.
As Vryce released the possession, the hapless jogger regained his senses. He felt the cold in his fingers from being outside, and he looked around with a panic on his face, wondering what happened. His breath was so cold that it formed ice. The mortal looked around in confusion when the hand grabbed his face.
Vryce was quick with his dagger, slicing the man’s throat open. Warm life oozed from him, and the warlock drank his fill for the night. He drank not just of the blood, but of the very essence of the man. The salty, coppery taste of the blood mixed with the vibrant, sweet taste of the soul. The withered husk hit the ground, its clothes now baggy and loose.
Vryce pulled out his mask and fastened it securely. He gestured to the sky, and the clouds began to swirl overhead, lightning dancing between their energy. Don’t worry, Jonas. You’ll see my libraries, just not in the way you expected. He picked up the viola case and smiled as readied his pistol before beginning his descent into town.
Streetlights flickered and faded away as the warlock moved down the street, shadows on his heels. With each light snuffed out, he gestured and sealed the doors of the houses with his magic. No interruptions tonight. I will not risk having this town turn against me like the last.
The warlock came to a stop in front of Jonas’s house, the moon’s pale light trying desperately to stay alive through the growing storm clouds. Vryce cast a spell to open the front door and stepped into the foyer. Gunfire shattered the framed pictures on the wall as bullets ripped through the drywall. Jonas was out of sight from Vryce on the other side.
“Tsk, tsk, Jonas. Is that any way to greet your guest?”
“We made a deal, oath breaker!” Jonas said, hiding behind a tipped-over table.
“You should have left already.” Vryce took a peek around the corner, a bullet ricocheted across his mask, leaving yet another crack.
“If I kill your real body, you die, remember? Go on, poke that mug of yours out again and let’s see how immortal you really are. You aren’t a true undead in that current state.”
“How very astute. You must feel rather confident, then. If I wanted you dead, Jonas, I would have fried your house with my lightning by now. I am here to escort you alive. Look out your window at the sky.” Vryce gestured around the corner with his gun at the window. He could hear a shuffle from the room.
“Jesus,” Jonas whispered.
A vortex of storm clouds raged and collided with each other, building themselves up.
“He won’t help you. His numbers have been on the decline, so the Unification stopped marketing him a while back. He’s currently polling at thirty-two percent of the world professing Christianity.” Vryce waved his pistol in a circular motion and whistled to get Jonas’s attention back on him, rather than the storm outside.
“All right. Drop the pistol. Slide it over. Then come out,” Jonas said.
Vryce slid the pistol over and showed a hand, then another, as he stepped out from behind the corner. He was older now, a teenager, each shard collected restoring him to his prime. “Really? I’m commanding the weather outside, and the pistol is your first concern?”
Jonas peeked from behind the table. His true form more visible, reptilian skin and rows of fanged teeth, a hideous deformity that made him look like he’d been fed bottom-barrel blood. He held a rifle leveled at the warlock’s head, hands steady, showing no signs of anxiety. “The weather is the only thing you can control right now. So yes.” He looked straight at Vryce.
Oh, you poor, ignorant fool. Vryce looked at him with his greenish-gold eyes from behind the cracked mask. “Dance for me.” As if on cue, Jonas began to move his feet and dance. Vryce gestured and manipulated him like a puppet.
“H-how?”
“That is for me to know, and you to never find out.” With a wild gesture, Vryce slammed Jonas into a wall, pinning him there telekinetically. As he moved his hand upward, Jonas struggled and was heaved to the ceiling. The warlock never took his gaze off him. “If you really know me, you would have learned that I never enter a fight I haven’t already won. Now let me explain to you what is going to happen. I’m going to rip out your soul, feast on your mind, and rewrite it to my own suiting. Then I’m going to ensure that you serve in my armies for a period of seven years. After that, I will give you the choice to willingly fight or be ripped apart and stitched into one of my gargoyles. Do you understand me?” There was no chance for him to respond before the warlock went to work stealing the soul.
Vryce took the time to peruse the rest of Jonas’s collections, grabbing a few books to add to his libraries. He needed the time to calm down. That had been closer than Jonas will ever know. If that bullet had penetrated the mask, everything would have been over. He was still not strong enough to face the Unification directly. Others will have to fight my war for me until I am ready. A two-thousand-year-old vampire like Alexandria of Ur could easily end his existence.
Pulling the curved dagger from his coat, the warlock again sliced his thumb. The world around him spun.
CHAPTER 28
Need to do carousing in order to remain unnoticed. JJ rather liked this thought, so he invited Delilah out to dinner. Dinner might not be the correct term. It was, after all, nearly three thirty in the morning. That time of night, near the witching hour when the universe becomes silent and angels rest.
Rally time for us demons.
JJ took a drink. The smoky taste of old bourbon cleared his throat. He was driven through the city to a small dine
r. It was quaint, with the neon sign missing a single letter. The parking lot was full of police and fire department vehicles, a place for them to relax after a night of keeping secrets. JJ left his driver in the car with instructions to wait for him and walked inside to greet the smell of fried eggs.
For a diner that had a line of people waiting to be seated, it couldn’t have been more quiet. The clink of forks against ceramic plates and the sound of coffee cups being placed carefully on their saucers was all that could be heard. The faces of the customers were paler than they should be, not because they were undead, but because their world was shattering. They all knew it as first responders. They had seen things they could not explain or even dare to talk about.
The football game or the pop star who flashed skin were no longer relevant conversations for them, even casually. They only have a few more days of this. Then their troubles will be washed away. JJ walked past them, removing his leather gloves and looking for Delilah. She sat in the middle of the room at a small table. Her stick-straight blonde hair was pulled behind her. A few strands dangled in front of her face as she struggled to stay awake. A neatly stacked pyramid of coffee creamers grew taller as she added another row.
“Have I kept you waiting long?” JJ said as he pulled out his chair.
“Quite. You are four minutes and twenty-eight seconds late.” She flashed a polite smile. JJ noticed the darkening under her eyes.
“Boss is keeping you up all hours again? How is work?”
“About as expected. You should have the coffee. I’ve had this diner, and seven others like it, import the finest South American and African coffees available. You wouldn’t know it from its drab demeanor, but there’s no better late-night diner in North America. They have almost single-handedly propped up the commodities market with their bulk purchases.” She took a drink herself, her shoulders relaxing.
