by Rick Heinz
“Oh no. It’s not personal,” Mike said. “From the looks of it, you’re a vampire, and you don’t have much longer until the sun rises. Think you can kill me and then finish your mission on time? Or do you wanna end up a failure like this guy?” Mike gestured to Gabriel.
“Will all of you stop pointing at me? Bastards.” Gabriel dusted himself off. “You aren’t killing him, DuPris. He’s my prisoner for reeducation. When he’s done, at least he’ll know who he works for, unlike you.” Before Mike could protest, Gabriel added. “Unless you don’t want to see your friends again? Think you can beat it out of me before the sun rises and still make it to a safe spot?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Well, aren’t we all a cheeky, self-repeating bunch,” Mike replied. “Go enjoy killing your own people there, Lex. It looks like I’m slated for reeducation.” Despite Mike’s flippant demeanor, he looked ready to pounce on either of them if they made a move he didn’t like. Lex walked away from them backward as his skin began to darken and stretch along his bones before he resumed his war form and ran into the courtyard.
“Are you really going to let him go kill all those people?” Gabriel asked.
“No, and neither are you. But this crowd is going to disperse in a flash now that we stopped fighting. Without leaders, chaos will take hold. Both sides will turn their attention to the demons. There is only one way to stop this. I assume the primus is Vryce? He’s the one we have to stop,” Mike said.
“Let’s make this clear. You aren’t going to stop him, or us. You are on the wrong side. I respect your conviction. We are both fighting to break a cycle of control. I just don’t think you know that yet. It’s the only reason I’m going to take you to your friends. But it’s not for free either. You are going to do something for me as well. I can’t help the stone guys. They are lost. I’m after JJ Bollard, and so are you. From the thoughts in your head, you had suspicions you were being used as cannon fodder. Don’t accept that bullshit. You owe the Unification nothing. Unless you want the world enslaved under a depraved god who will rule with an iron fist, that is.” Gabriel limped toward an elevator. “You coming?”
Gabriel looked back at Mike, who stared out the shattered windows. At first, the rioters fought well thanks to their newfound strength. Later, they broke and ran as more monsters flooded out of Walsh Tower to take the fight into the streets. Many were gunned down as creatures began their pursuit. Gabriel watched Mike’s smile fade and listened to his thoughts.
The only way to save the people is to close the portal. I’m so close. “I suppose I’ve made my point that you guys have been hoarding power and using it to rule over them.” They have their tools to fight this now. If I fight with them, I’ll never see this end. Fuck, man. Nobody should be sacrificed like this. “It’s its own animal now, that will spread like wildfire.” No, it’s not sacrifice. They made the choice to fight. We all do this. Together. As one. “Might as well come with and finish this.” Mike jogged over and got into the elevator. “Penthouse level, right?” Mike smiled.
“Nope. Basement.” Gabriel pulled out the blood-red coin and slid it into the elevator slot, activating the descent to the geofront below.
“I am going to stop him, you know. I’m not going to let Vryce flood the world with demons and destroy it,” Mike said to break the silence as they descended in the elevator.
“Destroy the world? Well, maybe, but that depends on what people do with their new gifts. Yeah, people like us will thrive in the world after dawn. But so can everyone who wants to. If they die, it’s their own fault.”
“Like I am supposed to believe that? You fuckers are the reason Chicago has been overrun with demons. What the hell is that?” Mike asked as he saw the buildings and strange plants below ground.
Gabriel smirked. “Believe what you want. We make the impossible real here. Now before I go and make my dad very unhappy by telling him he has to release your friends, let’s finish our deal. I need you and your people to do something for me. After all, as he says, people are more useful alive than dead.”
Mike did not take his eyes off the geofront. Gabriel could hear his thoughts, and from the sound of them, Mike could see things that even Gabriel could not. “What do you want?”
Gabriel coughed up blood and leaned on the wall. The cold glass felt good on his skin, giving him a bit of relief, and he sighed for a moment, letting the thought of what he wanted bounce around in his head for a bit. “I want something that you will probably come to enjoy doing. There is no way that you are the first wave, or the second, or even the thirtieth battle we will have with the Unification. They sacrificed you and your friends to die here just to scout and see what we had. I want you and your friends to leave here and, when you are set up and ready again, to swear that you will resume the fight against the Unification.”
The elevator came to a stop at its destination, and Mike was the first to step off. He looked around and even touched some of the plants that grew nearby, strange fauna with red vines and amber flowers with nectar that looked like crimson syrup dripping from them. “Take me to my friends first. I can’t sign them up for something they won’t agree with.”
Gabriel leaned on the elevator doors. “Oh, we won’t be seeing your friends first. There is only one creature here who can truly set them free.”
“Then I’m not making any deals,” Mike said.
Gabriel struggled to move along the dirt path as the pain of the night’s fights was starting to catch up to him. “I think I need to find a healing salve and fix myself. You broke more than ribs.”
“The world doesn’t have to change, you know. This can all still be stopped,” Mike said. Without even listening to Mike’s thoughts, Gabriel knew he was looking into another world, either heaven or hell. “Let me cut the subtext and spell it outright. Why work with me?”
“Look at what you’ve done. You’re basically the poster boy for our end game. Regular guy, now aware of magic. The world’s eyes are on us, and you’re good at spreading fires. You’ll send a message one way or another.” Gabriel gestured. “This way.” He started down a smaller path that led away from the ritual chambers and libraries. Even if it could be stopped. Would you really want it to, Mike? Gabriel kept that thought to himself.
CHAPTER 53
In the ballroom the beautiful crystalline voice of Molly LeMuse rang throughout. Her form and body matched the voice with luscious red lips and hair held together by diamonds and sapphires in a dress just as opulent. Her songs were filled with beautiful sadness and caused even the coldest vampire to give heed to lost mortality. A powerful moment for the society members returning from the battle below.
The smells of spiced meat cooked over low fires drifted through the party as servers brought racks of food to the still-living members of the society. Kevin Yukito was a smarmy-looking man with a thin red tie and tiny gold spectacles who discussed various diets that people were fed to produce certain tastes in their blood. He was a veritable blood sommelier for the undead that looked at humans as if they were cattle.
It was enough to make Daneka sick to his stomach in short order. It did not bother him that he was underdressed for the soiree, where everyone who was involved wore their best. What bothered him most was that his fame was not his work, but his father’s name. When he saw his best friend fighting for their lives on the monitors, footage being rewound and played again, Daneka felt his knees buckle.
“Easy there, darling,” said Alexandria. “I’m sure the leader of your cute little Sons and Daughters will be up here soon enough.”
Like scavenging hyenas, the room descended upon the rest of his friends, pulling them into private conversations. Doc could feel the energy in the room, a ravenous hunger mixed with terror. From the creature standing in front of him, he felt a sense of pride.
“Like father and mother, you awoke in the most unique way, didn’t you, Joseph? You feed on emotions,” she said.
“How do you know that?” he replied.
�
��I was the one who gave your father his heart, and his father before him. And so forth. We creatures, those who can command demon blood, born as the seventh son, are the descendants of Lilith. The first wife of Adam. Of course, we adopt any into our ranks who are able to claim the heart of a divine as their own, as Lilith did herself. In a way, I am your true mother.” She paused and ran a finger from her cheek down her slender neck. “Or a very old great-grandmother.”
“So what is that supposed to mean? Lady, I’m not the kind to develop an Oedipus complex. So you can chill with the seduction.” Doc reached out and grabbed a glass of water from a nearby tray. “You, however, have a list of issues that need help. I assume you do not have health insurance.”
Her eyes were cold as she spoke. “Lazarus was the brother to Mary Magdalene. In Gnostic texts, ones hidden by our kind, she was the lover of Jesus. They spawned heretical lineage, indomitable souls, protected in secret by monastic orders. I convinced the chief priests to murder him in secret a second time, hoping that his first resurrection was a singular trick.” She lifted a chalice of blood, drank deeply, and looked away. “Unfortunately, it turns out we need him and his wretched bloodline. Your father and I need him—”
“My father was never the religious type,” Daneka said.
“—to marry our lineages together, a union of bloodlines that were never meant to be, who will bear the children of the neverborn. Your father will wrap grave clothes around Lazarus at dawn, securing his mortal coil in this world yet again. So I assure you, he is religious now.”
“So why are you telling me this?” Doc drank from his water.
“Because I think”—she leaned in closer and ran a sharp nail along Doc’s face—“that you, a descendant of Magdalene, you would make a fine prospect for one of my children.”
Doc’s eyes looked around quickly. Sweat formed in the palm of his hands. “Me? A descendant? Marriage?”
She placed her arm around him and ran her nail along his throat. “Prophets told me of your lineage. The mark of Magdalene is the ability to see the dead, unlike the Lilim, born of the seventh son, with the power to command demons.” She leaned in and whispered, “The children our lineages will bear will shape the future for all eternity.”
“Uh-huh.” Doc forced himself to swallow. He wished he were still in the prison cell below as her nail began to draw blood.
“Don’t worry. Lazarus shall grant his blessing as payment for freedom.” She began to press harder.
“But I can’t see the dead,” Doc said before it was too late.
“What?” she said. Her grip was crushing his shoulder. It seemed everyone else in the room was oblivious to their conversation.
“This is why the scientific method is better than prophecy. Do you know how prophecy can be applied to largely anything?” Doc said. His hands were trembling. “You’ve got me all wrong. I’m just a vampire who feeds on and controls emotions.” Even my own. Checkmate.
Doc’s hands stopped trembling. He calmly placed his glass of water back on a server’s tray and adjusted his glasses. Alexandria looked as if she had the wind knocked out of her. “I’ll pass on your message if I ever see my father again. Thank you for your voracious appetite and narcissistic desire to brag about your motives. It was the most delicious meal I’ve had to date. You should really see someone about that.”
As Alexandria quickly regained her composure and retreated to the side of the room, Doc made his way into the nearest crowd as fast as he could, introducing himself as the son of John C. Daneka to get their attention. Mike, buddy, just stay down there. You do not wanna be up here.
CHAPTER 54
Delilah bit her lip as she opened the door to the ritual chamber. It was the only way into Vryce’s private quarters that lay beyond. She crept down the spiral stairs to the floor below. Despite a bandage getting caught on a jagged part of the wall, she made it down onto the chamber floor without making a sound.
The carved inlay of the tree of life built into the floor had taken on a sanguine color over the past month, and the ceiling had certainly grown darker. From the edges of the wall, a darkness oozed its way into the center of the ceiling, corrupting the otherwise beautiful artwork that had been there. Delilah assured herself that it was a side effect of the ritual and not the more unfortunate scenario that her master was manifesting himself right behind her.
Despite her otherwise unwavering loyalty to Vryce, it was a loyalty less to the individual and more to his vision. Phoebe’s prophecy told her he would bring about the downfall of his own vision if he were left to continue unchecked. His downfall would not come about through some sense of greed, or by his short temper, but rather by what was coming to end him.
The council of Unification lords were going to ensure that all warlocks died one way or another, either now or in the future. Delilah was not the sorcerous type and left the world of the occult to her master, but she knew that he was engaging in the process of reclaiming his souls. She also knew that as an insurance policy, he was binding them to important objects in some sort of arcane manner.
When Vryce would eventually be killed, he would reside within the objects until they were gathered onto a suitable host. Or something like that. She slinked along the wall to the doors that lined the back of the ritual chamber. No longer were there giant stone forms guarding the doors. She produced a key to unlock the doors to his sanctum and exhaled with relief as they opened without any alarms going off.
She entered the warlock’s personal chambers, knowing the ever-burning candles would provide all the light she needed. It was rather cozy for a chamber deep beneath the earth, filled with opulent rugs, drapes, and candelabras. Add in a few women, and he’s got his own personal harem. Personal memorabilia littered the chamber as if he had been diagnosed with clinical hoarding.
There were enough wealth and historical objects in the room to make sure that anybody who found the treasure trove would never have to work a day in his life again. She wasn’t interested in the objects having only sentimental value, like the wagon wheel of a carnival he traveled with in the 1920s. She sought items of power, like the set of iron nails that he was set to the stake with in the 1700s. The nails will probably end up as one of the phylacteries.
Hair rose on the back of her neck as she poked her way through the shelves. Someone was watching her. She spun around quickly and was greeted by an empty room. Delicately placing a crystal necklace back on the shelf, she tiptoed into the middle of the room, keeping a direct line of sight to the exit. The shadows danced in the flicker of candlelight, but nobody was in sight. Waiting motionless, she listened for any sound and was rewarded with a creak of a floorboard in an adjoining room. Step by step, she made her way into a room with more arcane objects and wooden floors. Seeing no one, she let out a sigh and relaxed her shoulders. Despite the long shadows in the room, only a child could find a hiding spot there. If anything was within, it was one of Vryce’s homunculi. But this room is bound to have what I need, his phylacteries. Now which objects will he bind?
Delilah started picking through memorabilia with delicate precision, looking for the item she desired most. If Vryce was successful in his ritual, the one to bind the pieces of his soul, then the linked items should be artifacts that were connected to him. It was only when he would die that they would become more sinister. All his power would be divided and added to the artifacts, granting whoever wielded them all the power of the lich without the drawbacks. She knew well enough that his soul would survive within the objects, exerting some control over the bearers. Yet there were even limits to how far the master of possession can stretch himself at a single time.
Depending on who found them, everything the Society of Deus worked for could be undone. She resolved herself to steal the most important one, the mask.
After the death of Vryce, when the armies of dead march, the one with Vryce’s porcelain mask will shatter the walls of the society and pave the way to bring ruin to its foundation.
She shook her head in dismay as she surveyed the room, unable to locate her query. How can I change the future if I can’t steal what I’m here for? Asking him for it will do no good. He’s as stubborn as they come. If Gabriel gets the mask, everything will be lost.
“What are you doing in here?” Vryce’s voice pierced the room. Between objects, the shadows stitched themselves together as a breeze chilled the room. Vryce stepped out of the corner and threw his viola case on the floor. He was already reaching for a dagger before a look of realization crossed his face. It did not stop him from holding the short soul blade to her throat as he snarled. “You’ve changed. Whom do you work for now? Whatever was done to you has triggered my alarm.”
Delilah held her composure, slapped away the dagger, and gave him a piercing look that liquefied bravado. “You were the one to take the gamble with my life in regards to Bollard. Did you think that I would survive unscathed? The fact that his blood instead of yours was used to change me is the price you pay for your pathetic game.” She tilted her head as she sized him up. He was a man in the prime of his life again, his flesh restored with power.
Any aspect of physical attractiveness, however, was cast aside by an intangible creepiness that seeped out of him, giving her goose bumps. He was wearing most of his trinkets tied to his waist, including the mask she was after. “I’m going to assume by the obvious fact that just standing next to you feels like my skin wants to crawl that you have completed your ritual,” Delilah said.
