The Seventh Age: Dawn

by Rick Heinz

  “I reclaimed that which is mine. All that is left is the binding. The phylacteries have all been chosen and set. Now I need to prepare this vessel to channel their power. I do not intend to have what I’ve reclaimed taken away or banished into the underworld.” He began taking off objects from underneath his red-lined coat and placing them on a shelf in the room. “Regardless of the blood that runs through your veins, you will always be my daughter and my right hand in affairs. No one can take that away from you.”

  “Sentiment does not suit you. I am a tool that you use and nothing more. Without me, you would have had to spend another forty years learning civil engineering, psychology, and accounting software. I am here because I need to speak with you. Knowing that you were near completion, it is obvious that this is where you would hide.” Delilah started picking up objects, dusting them off, and placing them back on shelves.

  “Hide?” he responded.

  “Yes, hide. Call it what you will, but if I wanted to kill you right now before the binding, everything you’ve worked for will be lost. As such, until you are safe, you will cower down here until you are done, or your hand is forced above.”

  “Careful. You still work for me. Your tongue will be the death of you.”

  “Please, if you were going to kill me for chiding you on your ignorant behavior, you would have done that years ago. Just because you hide and cower down here does not mean it is wrong. After all, you cannot let Alexandria get anywhere near you until you are done. Of course, if you listened to me, you would have killed her years ago, rather than let her dance around and control you.”

  “That is because you understand little of the life-span of someone who has lived centuries. Killing anyone who steps in your way or could be a threat makes unlife extremely boring. Not to mention, I will have Alexandria under control once I finish my ritual. Without her . . . What’s the phrase you used in the past? Ah. Nuclear deterrent.” He paused, took the mask off his belt, and ran a finger along the crack before hanging it on the wall. “Without her, I would not have had success in attracting as many other vampires to this city. It would have only been sorcerers. Like it or not, some creatures are tired of hiding, despite the fact you dislike them for being more powerful.”

  “It’s not power. It’s that you let her get away with anything she wants, along with your newfound toy, Gabriel. You surround yourself with brats while giving them unlimited power. Therefore, you can do so without me here. I have fulfilled my end of the work in this city. Your ritual is near complete, the portal is opened, and the control of the army has been transferred to you.” In the process of dusting objects, Delilah snuck the set of nails into her pocket, peering out of the corner of her eye to make sure he was distracted.

  “Taking your leave for your pet project of creating the archive, then? I prize all knowledge as something worth preserving, so of course I will sponsor you heading out to catalog and map the changing landscape over the years.”

  “So you are choosing Gabriel over me to remain here, then?”

  “Jealousy doesn’t suit you. You were pleased when you brought him to me. Why the sudden change in demeanor? He has as much a role in this as you do. Sure, he will never have Roger’s tongue or your knack for organization. Neither of you, however, can fight the way he does. The only way for him to learn is to give him so much power that he will either break under its weight or learn how to wield it correctly.”

  “It’s not jealousy. It’s outright questioning of your intelligence. You dance with the Unification. You dance with Alexandria. You dance with giving children weapons of unimaginable power. You dance with the forces of heaven and hell. And during all of this, you seek to make yourself a lich, the very thing that they all hunt. I do not see this ending well for you. Which is why, for the sake of our mutual vision, you are going to listen to me now, more than you ever have.”

  He shot her a glare during her speech, and his fingers twitched as he placed the ouroboros and the inverted rosary on the shelf. “Well, I did not expect you to so thoroughly dress me down before we were to part ways. We make every situation a victory and always hedge our bets. That includes you heading off to form the archive. In time, perhaps a hundred years, perhaps two hundred years or longer, this landscape will be changed and ruled openly by demon kings, vampires, sorcerers, and many other creatures, including the Society of Deus, which I will rule here. Your task is to grow in power while charting and mapping these new territories, and in time sabotage them for our ends.”

  “Yes, our ends. Not Gabriel’s. Not Alexandria’s. Not the Unification’s. You may not like what I do, or how I say it, but you trust me with your innermost secrets. Now, in order to pull this finale off, you are going to do the unthinkable and give me your sorcery.” She crossed her arms in front of her and stared directly at him.

  “Demanding, aren’t we. Let’s make one thing clear.” Vryce snapped his fingers, and Delilah felt herself lose control of her body. As he twirled his fingers, she spun around like a ballerina. “Each warlock has their forte. Do not forget that possession and soul stealing is mine. Your bravado is admirable, but even if I were to perish by your hand, it would be to serve my own ends. You are a young creature. You are less useful to me now as my conspirator than as simply my great-great-great-granddaughter. You have been soiled. You were the most effective human being I had ever met. Now, you are on a path to become nothing more than another monster, learning the misery of existence with power at your fingertips, and nothing but dust at the end.” He held his hand flat to the ground, and Delilah stopped spinning to face him.

  Her look told him she wanted to kill him. He tilted his head sideways and continued talking. “The children that survive will be the ones to carry forth the vision. You are just a tool of the divine now, trapped in a prison of addiction until you claim the heart of the rakshasa.” He took two fingers and held her by the chin. “Welcome to my pain for the past six hundred years. If in this next thousand you manage to learn how to follow in my footsteps and reclaim what Bollard took from you, then you can be my daughter again. Until then, you are my employee.” With a gesture, he let her go, and she collapsed like a broken doll on the ground.

  She picked herself up and grabbed his wrist before he turned around. She pulled back and backhanded him with every ounce of her strength. It was strong enough that the knuckles on the back of her hand split. Despite his physical prime, Delilah had a sense of nobility now and the courage to hit him.

  Delilah gestured to the belongings in the room. “Let’s not forget that without my assistance, you would still be wallowing in that pain. Without the plan we came up with, you would be ruling over a pile of ash in fifty years. Now, if you are going to give your son a soul blade, I’m going to need a few things of my own to get started. I’m taking Symon, the Whisper, and a few other handpicked soldiers of Amo-a-Deus with me. I’m also taking your porcelain mask and inverted rosary.”

  She let it sink in for a second, and when he raised an eyebrow, she continued. “Don’t look so surprised. It’s not like it will cost you. They are empty shells, and unless you intend on dying in the near future, it will provide me with a link to you. Just teleport directly to them if you ever feel the need to wear them. I, however, need the rosary to stop those who walk through time, and the mask to stop any mind reader. You should need neither crutch anymore.” Delilah hoped her gambit would work. Being forceful and determined with him often got her what she wanted. It could also get her killed. He was like a giant predatory cat at times, toying with his food.

  Vryce wiped his face with the back of his hand and slowly licked the blood off. A smirk crept along the edges of his face before he broke into a full-hearted laugh, which could mean that she was either dead or he was giving her what she wanted. “Oh, my dear Delilah. I do so hope you follow in my footsteps.”

  He flicked his fingers, and the mask and rosary flew in her direction. “Now leave and set about your task. I have no further use for you in the Twin Cities. I
need only to cast the final spell.”

  He turned his back on her and began to disrobe in preparation for his own ritual. Green ethereal serpents slithered out of his body as he released the souls he had gained. His shadow took on movement of its own and started picking up the shards of souls that moved around the room. Delilah did not understand what came next, even though it was described in his work, the Arcannum Arcannimusim. It was too arcane for her to fathom. She knew enough to know that it involved the mind, body, and souls coming to terms with their new existence. Warlock magic, always overly complicated.

  Delilah grabbed the objects as they slid along the ground and scrambled to the exit. She kept her voice calm as she opened the door. “There is one more favor. There will be someone tonight you will meet. Mike Auburn. I think you will enjoy him as much as you do Gabriel. Kill him before dawn. The alternative is Lazarus returning in both power and name.”

  Delilah slammed the door shut and grasped her chest. Somehow, he was too preoccupied to notice. She managed to get what she needed from under him. Now she had to get as far away as possible before he did manage to notice the nails were gone.

  She ran to a hidden tunnel that would lead her above ground, far away from any chance encounters she wanted to avoid. When the three items began to pulse with a green light, she knew his binding spell was beginning. He will know I stole the nails, yet he hasn’t stopped me. Is he letting me take them?

  She slid on the rosary and the mask as she made her way out of the city to meet Symon and the Whisper. They would keep her identity secret and shield her from people scrying upon her. With the mask on, her sight of the world was markedly different.

  For starters, she could see the magic lines flowing through the ground itself and could actually see the giant walls surrounding the city. She could trace lines of power mirroring the chains above, heading below. As above, so below.

  Among the soldiers that were still fighting rioters, or ridari who were carving out demon hearts to hand to their soldiers, she was almost invisible as she slid past them through the sectioned gates. While she wore the mask, everyone gave her a wide berth, assuming it was the master. Despite the ease of movement, she could not help the feeling that there was a whisper gnawing at the back of her mind. Like her own shadow trying to speak to her, its voice formless and silent, yet if you listened just right, you could hear an unintelligible murmur. So this is what it is like to wield some of his artifacts. Or rather, my artifacts.

  She strolled through the west gate to find Symon and the Whisper standing next to a few jeeps that were packed to the brim. “Oy, don’t you look lovely, Delilah,” Symon said.

  “Don’t call me that anymore,” the mask wearer said. Its voice already changing to sound both male and female at the same time, formless and silent, yet audible if you listened just right.

  “Uh, right . . . So what do you want to be called then, miss?” Symon said as he looked around and fidgeted with some car keys.

  The figure got into the back of the jeep and waited. “You may call me the Praenomen from now on.” Yes, I rather like the sound of that. The first one named. After all, we were his first daughter. The first rejected. The first accepted. We are eating and devoured at the same time. The alpha and the omega.

  “Sure thing, Boss. To Denver it is. We can make it a few miles before sunrise,” Symon said as he started up and rolled off.

  Choices. It always comes down to choices.

  Vryce sat alone in his sanctum, naked as he ran a spool of blood-dipped iron through his feet, ensuring that with each stitch, he grabbed a part of his shadow. It would be more difficult the further along he went, for he would eventually have to stitch his entire body to the shadow. Meanwhile, the shadow of himself wove and stitched threads of shadow of its own back into Vryce’s physical form.

  It was only at the completion of the final stitch on the crown of the head that he would be able to divide the power of the warlock and his divine soul equally among himself and each of his phylacteries upon this vessel’s death, rather than tumbling or being imprisoned in purgatory like his predecessor.

  “I always enjoyed you, Delilah. Every one of our conversations went exactly as today’s went. Even the way you demand things by being as forceful as possible one time and as gentle as a mouse another is charming. You are my very quintessence and the logical side of me I had forsaken long ago for this insanity I crave now. I shall acquiesce to your instinct. Tomorrow we shall both stand bare in the world, watching the black sun rise while we devour its rays. You were always my first to be welcomed. And you are the first of my children to leave,” he said to nobody in particular, his voice barely audible and almost formless as he jammed thick iron wire through bone in his ritual of self-mutilation.

  CHAPTER 55

  Mike followed Gabriel into the cavern. Neither of them had much to say to each other as Mike waited for Gabriel to heal himself. Time is a-wastin’. Who the hell gets caught by a bear trap anyway?

  Some of the spiked vines in the gardens had gnarled and desiccated demons wrapped in them. It appeared as if the vines were draining them dry. On more than one occasion, Mike jumped back when a demon’s eye opened in a jolt. Motherfuckers are still alive. Jesus H. Christ, what the fuck is this place? It’s like someone took acid and read a Dr. Seuss book while standing on their head.

  Even so, it was nothing compared to the building that was just off center of the cavern. Built from glass and stone, the pyramid hummed with magical energy as it towered over deformed trees. Mike could see a river flowing beneath it, so green it looked like the Chicago River on St. Patrick’s Day, while above it there was a shimmering golden tree filled with sparrows that would flutter and fly throughout the cavern. Both locations seemed very distant, as if he were seeing them through a mirror tunnel. Yet at the same time, Mike felt he could just reach out his hand and catch a sparrow or dip his hand in the river if he got close enough. Aha! Jackpot.

  Mike lit up a smoke and took in the sights as they wandered empty paths. “All right, fluffy, stop wasting time and get me to the big shot or to my friends,” Mike said as he ground his boot on a bulbous plant, causing it to pop like a whitehead.

  “That’s strange. There should be more people down here. The plants have changed all the paths as well. Yesterday I knew this place like the back of my hand,” Gabriel replied as he shook his head. “I’m a stranger in my own home.”

  “Still might be if you ask me. Have you seen what these plants eat for breakfast?” Mike said.

  “How about you cut us a direct path to the pyramid there?” Gabriel asked.

  “Through the demon-eating plant things that keep blocking our way there? I think your boss is trying to tell you he doesn’t want any Girl Scout cookies.”

  “No, it’s not that. Well, maybe. We took the main entrance, the one the others take. There has got to be another door around here.” Gabriel squinted and looked off in the distance.

  Mike saw a ghost walk across the pathway behind Gabriel, moving into a thick part of the plants. A pale-green hand stuck back out and gestured for Mike to follow. He did.

  “Where you going?” Gabriel asked.

  He entered the thicket, an absurd forest of oversized plants. Every few paces, he would spot an arm or a glimpse of a ghost just out of the corner of his eye. Gabriel followed closely. As long as Mike moved along the correct path, winding and chaotic as it was, the forest let them through. They continued for moments in silence. Always looping back around to face the building in the middle.

  As the forest broke, Mike halted in his tracks, throwing his arm out to stop Gabriel from stepping forward. Within the shadow of the pyramid, Mike saw it. An indescribably deep hole into purgatory itself. Claw marks from demons that escaped scarred the pulsing translucent walls within, but there was no sign of any nearby. Is this the portal Phoebe was talking about? I was invited in here, wasn’t I?

  “Hey,” Gabriel said. “You came for your friends, ones that are still with us. I don�
��t know what you can see, but don’t think about helldiving here. Besides, you don’t even know the right spell to get in there anyway.” He nodded up to the pyramid. “Door is up here. Let’s go.”

  Taking a final drag of his smoke, Mike walked to the edge of the abyss before flicking his stub behind him. “I am here for my friends. They got me in the door. I’m just one guy who has had one foot in the afterlife for a long time.” Facing Gabriel, he gave a two-finger salute. “Who said you need a spell to enter the afterlife?”

  Mike fell backward.

  The world above him stretched and looked farther and farther away. He fell through layers of purgatory. Mountains of vertical catacombs constructed in an ever-expanding universe spread out before him. His entry point, a brilliant warm light the size of a horizon moon, grew smaller, and other entry points became visible, if less bright. This continued until there was an illusory night sky above him. The stars were gateways from Mike’s world into purgatory. The planets were the ritual locations. It felt peaceful, like Mike could spend eons staring at them. Then he hit a walkway, crashing through it as he fell farther. Then another. His luck had run out. Then another.

  The eighth catwalk was the one to not break. Peeling himself off the ground, a rush of vertigo finally caught up to him. Even though Mike did not move, the ground snapped back, closer and closer, and the distance he had fallen rubber-banded back. The catwalks and the catacombs rushed past in the other direction before settling down. All right. That was kind of fun. He patted himself down and took stock of his location. He was deep, far deeper than he was with Tindalos. The catwalks of varying levels all had streams of dead souls that flowed through in a crisscrossing fashion in all directions. Some of them had ghosts that seemed more real, more solid. Occasionally a demon crossed another. His bridge was no different. Some ghosts of people he had known gestured for him to follow.