“Indeed. Alive . . .” Once again, Diocles rippled. “I tried everything. I know he did also. I even searched for mythic items, both pagan and Christian. If I had known about Feirie then, I would have probably delved into that possibility as well.”
Claryce noticed my stare. “Nick. You know something.”
I dug for the coin . . . or attempted to. It wasn’t in the pocket where it should’ve been. “It’s gone.”
“That coin of his? I saw you put it there. How could it have fallen out during the drive?”
Diocles looked confused. “‘Coin of his’? Galerius?”
I searched through the coat pockets, then thought of where it’d been found the last time. Sure enough, it was there. Not where it should’ve been.
I didn’t waste time on that mystery, instead showing the coin to Diocles. He reflexively reached for it, then, with a bitter expression, studied it from my hand.
“A pretty representation,” Diocles commented. “Not very close to the truth.”
“I’ve seen yours, so don’t talk. Go on. Do you recognize the symbol on the reverse?”
His face darkened. “Of course I have seen it. I have been with you nearly each time you went to check on it in Holy Name. I have no choice but to be there at least for a short time. You know that is how it works!”
I did, and if we’d not needed him now I would’ve told him to go away like I generally did. I couldn’t help it; centuries later, the cut of the blade still felt fresh on my neck.
“You’ve seen the card. You see the symbol on this coin. Gale-rius knows about the card in Holy Name. Not just any card from the Clothos Deck, but the one there. No one else has seen that card since before—”
“Since before the Night the Dragon Breathed, yes.” Diocles’s frown deepened. “Save for that time the dragon himself purloined it for Oberon.”
“I thought about that. Only the two of them had contact with it and just for a very short period. Galerius had to know about this particular card since before the fire.” I fingered the coin. On a hunch, I summoned the dragon.
Eye knew you would be pining for me before long . . .
Spare me. I need your eyes, but I need much more from them. We need to look beyond just the surface on this, understand?
He chuckled. Who understands you better than Eye? Not even she, my noble saint. Not even she . . .
Before I could react to his comment, he gave me his vision. I heard a slight gasp, but not from Claryce.
“Demon spawn,” muttered Diocles.
I didn’t correct him, in great part because I wasn’t sure if he was wrong. I still had no idea as to the dragon’s true origins, and the dragon claimed ignorance as well. To hear him, he had simply come to be and then had been condemned to guard the Gate.
You wished to look . . . so look . . .
I did . . . and saw exactly what I’d hoped I wouldn’t.
From the way the coin appeared to keep shifting location on my person, I’d expected to find traces of magic in it. In fact, I’d pretty much come to the conclusion that Galerius had given it to me as more than a taunting memento showing his desire to claim the card.
The magic in it, while slight, proved something more disturbing. I recognized it, and so did the dragon. His earlier amusement faded, replaced by distrust and more.
The same magic that made the card in Holy Name the threat it was also existed in the coin.
Fortunately, as I’d already noted, the coin only contained the barest shadow of the card’s power. Enough to use it for a few tricks Galerius no doubt had in mind. Still, I could also sense the age of the coin.
I dismissed the dragon’s gaze. “He had it,” I informed the others as calmly as I could. “At some point in the past, Galerius had possession of the card.”
It answered a lot. It certainly hinted at how he’d not only recovered from his awful illness but had survived so long.
“You once commented on the question of where Oberon got the card in the first place,” the ghost pointed out.
“Yeah, but I’d pretty much assumed he’d found it in some hellish part of Feirie or some remote spot on the other side of this world. Instead, he may’ve gotten it directly from Galerius.”
“But why would Galerius give up something that powerful to Oberon?” Claryce asked. “Would you?”
“No . . . which means that Oberon either stole it or tore it from him. Probably the former. Oberon wasn’t the type to leave someone like Galerius alive. Her Lady’s former mate would’ve been more likely to turn him into a pile of ash.” I paused. “Come to think of it, I wouldn’t be surprised if Her Lady also knows something about what did happen. She knew and even dealt with Holmes, after all. If she was willing to make a pact with the Beast, why not with Galerius, espe-cially if he wanted the card back from Oberon?”
“You’re not suggesting entering Feirie, are you?” Claryce gritted her teeth. “Please say you’re not.”
I didn’t reply, in great part because I didn’t know how I’d answer. To Diocles, I asked, “I haven’t forgotten what you were like, Diocles. You were even smart enough to step down from the imperial throne you’d so coveted before it could kill you like many others. Think hard. Is there anything you’ve forgotten to tell me?”
Diocles rippled yet again. His face screwed up in thought. I knew that he was trying desperately to think of something that would please me.
But not at all to my surprise, he finally shook his head. “I can think of nothing. I am sorry.”
“Then we’re done here, I guess.” I stared at the coin for a moment more, then put it in the pocket from which I’d drawn it. It’d be interesting to see if it changed location this time. I knew keeping it probably risked me a bit, but I had hopes to turn it into a way of locating Galerius.
“Thank you very much, Diocles,” Claryce said.
I managed a nod, the most I was willing to give him. Diocles spread his hands in resignation, then began fading before our eyes.
And then he stopped. His expression grew disturbed.
“I remember something . . . something else.”
“About Galerius?” I tried to imagine what it could be and failed.
“I do not know. It may be. It occurs to me it must be something, though.” Looking more earnest, he asked, “Do you remember when I warned you about a surly Celt slipping into St. Michael’s and then leaving without doing more than looking around?”
It took me a moment to remember. “One of Holmes’s goons, probably from Weiss and Moran. You remember something about him? He likely died with the rest, but go ahead. What is it?”
“No, it isn’t that at all! He was here again, a week ago. This time, he walked up to the High Altar of Angels, knelt before it, then left.”
“A week ago.” I barged through Diocles, ignoring how he briefly dissipated as I did.
Michael and his friends peered down at me. I was reminded about the fact that I’d still seen no hint of the Archangel.
Diocles materialized just to the left of the altar. “He knelt right about there.”
I shifted position, but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.
No. There was a small indentation in the altar itself. A round indentation.
Suspicious, I reached for the coin. This time, it was exactly where I’d put it. I wondered if that meant anything.
With caution, I brought the coin to the spot. It fit right in. Even more interesting—or disturbing—was the fact that when I pulled my fingers away, the coin didn’t fall out.
Voices began whispering in a language I’d heard on neither the mortal plane nor Feirie yet somehow reminded me of both.
I stumbled back. “Claryce! Get out of here!”
I couldn’t waste a moment seeing if she’d obeyed. I just had to hope she’d listen for once.
The altar shook. The figure of Michael abruptly moved his shield arm, then he stretched the flaming sword he held in the other right at me.
The European-sty
led face tilted my direction. The features didn’t move, but I knew the figure saw me as well as any living creature.
He leaped from the altar. As he dropped, he expanded in size, growing as tall as me by the time he landed on his feet on the nave floor. His armor now gleamed. The sword burst into true flames.
The archangel’s shining wings spread wide. I thought he was about to fly, but instead, he shifted the shield so that the phrase on it filled my gaze. Quis ut Deus, which meant “Who is like God?”
“Well, I never claimed it was me,” I retorted. “And I’m not exactly sure you’re any closer right now.”
He thrust.
I had Her Lady’s gift out and ready. The two blades met with a terrible clash of metal and a burst of intense heat from the flaming sword. I marveled that the din hadn’t already summoned Father Jonathan and everyone else in the church, but no one came to see what was happening. I could only chalk that up to part of the trap Galerius had evidently set for me.
I tried an attack, but the archangel deflected it with the shield. I backed up as the flaming sword came within inches of my chest.
Eye can help you! the dragon roared in my head. Let me burn him!
And the rest of St. Michael’s in the process? No thank you. I lunged as I answered the dragon. The blade slipped past the shield—
The figure brought the shield toward my outstretched sword. It was all I could do to keep from losing Her Lady’s gift as the force of the shield striking shoved my weapon to the side.
A shot rang out . . . and the next second the false archangel staggered as part of the face near the right eye exploded into a small shower of scattering fragments.
I dared a peek back and saw Claryce. She looked none too pleased despite a pretty fair shot. I wasn’t sure if that was because the archangel had only been slowed by the bullet or because she’d just shot apart the face of a saint.
Her shot proved more fortuitous than either of us initially realized. From behind the animated statue jumped Diocles. I wasn’t sure how big a distraction he’d be able to make himself by leaping through my adversary, but anything was welcome.
Diocles crashed into the archangel with enough force to send him falling to the side. Only then did I remember what’d happened when the dragon, using my body, had managed to free the card. Simply being released had allowed the power of the card to influence its surroundings, including anyone also nearby. In that case, Diocles had also gained both visibility and substance. He’d failed to stop the dragon, but his luck had been better this time.
I dove in barely a breath after they collided, Her Lady’s gift at the ready. Just as with the pale figure, the sword gave no hint of activity. I wasn’t concerned about that, however. Even dormant, the elven creation was a magnificent and very well-crafted weapon.
I drove the blade deep into the archangel’s unprotected throat. A cracking sound accompanied the attack as the sword shattered the false flesh and sent more fragments flying.
With a twist, I broke the rest of the head free.
“Nick!” Claryce shouted. “We’ve got more trouble!”
As my decapitated foe sought for balance, I looked to see what she was talking about.
Other figurines and statues were coming to life. Each one that touched the floor quickly grew to man-size.
“This atrocity must end!” Diocles shouted as he fought to keep a hold on St. Michael’s wings.
He was right, and I knew exactly how. I’d been too clever for myself, doing exactly what Galerius had figured I’d do. Everything had been set up so that I’d eventually find out about the spot on the side of the altar, something clearly arranged over time. Galerius had always enjoyed toying with others; in that he would’ve been a good match for any of the Wyld. Still, I couldn’t help feeling there was more to it than that.
I’d wended my way around the headless Michael. A few more steps and I’d reach the coin.
Naturally, something had to get in my way. In this case, it was Gabriel, or rather, the now man-sized figure of the saint, horn and all.
He swung the long instrument like an ax. I met his attack with the sword. Unlike Michael’s fiery sword, the horn cracked in half.
Also unlike Michael, Gabriel wasn’t so well protected. Keeping the point ahead of me, I drove Her Lady’s gift through Gabriel and forced him into the altar.
The second archangel fell to the floor. I took a big risk and let go of the sword so that I could grab for the coin.
Claryce fired off two more shots. I looked up to see another saint with only a jagged hollow left for a face thanks to her shot. The animated figure moved about as if actually blind, which gave me hope that Claryce could keep her own attackers at bay just long enough.
I seized the coin . . . but couldn’t pull it free.
Eye will give you my strength . . . just allow me this . . .
I didn’t see where I had a choice. It was pretty safe to make use of his gaze, but anything else offered much danger. Still, without him I didn’t know how long it’d take to pry the damned coin free. Clearly strong magical forces kept it in place. I needed to make sure the forces I used were stronger yet.
I felt him fill me. My worries seemed so petty, so mortal. It amazed me that I let my concerns about others color my thoughts and pervert my intentions. I was very tempted to take to the wing and leave all their foolishness behind—
“Stop that!” I growled at myself—him. “I’m in charge!”
He receded slightly. Once more in full command, I got a grip on the coin.
“Nick!” Claryce called. “Right behind you!”
I peered over my shoulder to find the headless St. Michael coming toward me. He kept thrusting the burning sword before him. Despite a misstep or two, he was right on target.
Still prying at the coin, I watched his progress. He had maybe two yards before his sword could do me harm.
The coin began to give way, but with a lot of resistance. I debated what to do. If I didn’t get the coin free now, things could get a lot worse before I had another chance.
An odd haze abruptly filled the gap between the winged figure and me. No . . . not a haze, but rather Diocles materializing.
“I will hold him off, Georgius! Get that foul thing from the altar!”
St. Michael thrust once more. Diocles managed to knock the sword arm up at the wrist, causing the thrust to go toward the ceiling.
I used the reprieve to adjust my grip on Galerius’s accursed coin. It finally began to give. I felt it separate from the altar, but there was still a pull from the spot, as if some magnet was attempting to draw it back.
“Quickly, Georgius!” Diocles urged. “Quickly—”
His warning ended in a scream. Still straining to finish pulling the coin free, I looked just in time to see the fiery sword slice through Diocles. The two halves of the emperor separated, then burned away in a flash.
A door opened. I heard Father Jonathan exclaim, “Lord God above! What is happening out here? What is this madness?”
I gave the coin a final tug—
It was as if a tornado swept through the church, turning the interior into a scene out of the recent if entirely odd production of The Wizard of Oz. Unlike Dorothy Dwan—who’d played an adult Dorothy for that film—we weren’t likely to end up in Oz, but somewhere worse. Still retaining the dragon’s might, I turned as best I could toward Claryce. The revolver in one hand, she gripped a pew for dear life. Around her, the animated saints and angels began drifting into the air despite their weight.
Eye can give you wings! Eye can help you fly to safety!
No! I fought to take another step. His offer was enticing, but I knew I’d regret it if I accepted.
And then—the wind ceased. A flash of light blinded me. As blinked I to clear my vision, I noticed an unsettling silence. No crashing of statues onto the floor, no shout from Father Jonathan.
No cry from Claryce.
Nothing.
At that moment, I felt as
if the dragon himself sat on my shoulders. I dropped to my knees—
“Nick!”
Claryce’s call came from so very far away. Even still, I rejoiced that I’d heard it. She was alive and seeming fairly well.
“Nick!”
My vision began to clear. I made out the interior of St. Michael’s. The fully intact interior.
The statues and figurines had all returned to their proper sizes and places. Those that’d been damaged—especially the church’s namesake—were whole again. Everything was as it had been before I’d made the mistake of attaching the coin to the altar.
The coin. It was clutched tight in my hand, so tight I had to use my other hand to peel back the fingers. I was tempted to throw away the piece, but really had no good idea where. In the end, I put it back into what appeared to be its favored pocket.
“Is that wise?” Claryce, sounding a little out of breath, asked.
“It’ll have to do.”
“What just happened? Was that all an illusion?”
“Maybe.” Things still appeared peaceful and quiet. I was almost willing to believe it’d actually been an illusion when something occurred to me.
I took a step away from Claryce.
“What’re you doing?”
In reply, I said to the empty nave, “All right, Diocles. You can come out.”
“Nick!”
It wasn’t Diocles responding, but rather Father Jonathan at the same door we’d just seen him come from before everything had begun spinning. Curiously, he looked only slightly anxious.
“Father?”
“May I ask if you are finished? Unfortunately, you will need to leave shortly. I’m sorry.”
I glanced at Claryce, who nodded. To the priest, I replied, “We were just leaving. Thank you for the time.”
Father Jonathan nodded and left us again.
“He doesn’t recall a thing,” I murmured.
“Diocles?” Claryce called. “Diocles?”
There was no reply, not even a misty manifestation.
“Nick, what do you think?”
I didn’t care to pursue the subject of Diocles right now. There was an odd combination of emotions running through me and one felt suspiciously like guilt. I didn’t think I needed to feel guilty about him, even after he’d tried to help. I still thought of all the people slaughtered during the Persecution merely for not believing as Galerius suggested to him they should. As one of the earliest of those, and the only one to be resurrected, those victims held a special place for me.
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