“You men go through that entrance to the right of the altar,” he ordered while waving the Sergeant and three men off. “I’ll take the left entrance with my men.”
“What about out here?” asked the Sergeant, waving at the Nave and the many alcoves that led off it.
“I doubt they’re hiding out here,” said Stark with a sneer. “If they are, we can look for them on the way back out, while the men outside make sure they don’t leave.”
Stark pushed through the door to the left of the altar and found himself in a long hall that ran through the offices and quarters of the church.
“Search the rooms,” ordered Stark, pointing to other doors. He pushed the door in front of him open and found himself in a large kitchen, his eyes scanning everything. They had made their way through several of the rooms and down the hall when an older man, wearing a night robe, came rushing out into the hallway.
“What is the meaning of this?” asked the man, running up to Stark, who eyed him with a feeling of disdain.
“We’re searching your church for some fugitives,” said Stark, holding up a hand before the man could open his mouth again. “I am here under the authority of the Mage’s Council, and will brook no interference.”
“Have you never heard of sanctuary?” Asked the old man, whom Stark had guessed was the Primate, the supreme Bishop of the Church.
“Are you admitting that they are here then,” said Stark with a cold smile. “Under the protection of your Church?”
“I admit to no such thing,” said the Primate, glaring at the Magara Officer. “You should not be here.”
“Are they here?” asked Stark, glancing over at his own Forensic Mage as that man watched the Primate closely. He knew the Mage was good at reading people, of telling if they were lying or not. But the Primate kept silent, not giving the Mage the information he needed. Stark could tell, though, just by the way the man refused to answer.
“Cast a tracker,” said Stark to his Forensic Mage. Maybe they could get something by tracing the movements of Parkinson through the building.
“Don’t you dare use magic on this holy ground,” said the Primate, moving toward the Mage.
Stark reached into his jacket and pulled a big automatic out of its shoulder holster. He leveled the gun, pointing it at the head of the Primate.
“If you interfere I will drop your dead ass in this hallway,” said the Lieutenant, his eyes locked on those of the clergyman.
“I will protest this all the way to the Mage’s Council,” said the clergyman, no fear in his eyes, only anger.
“Not if you interfere you won’t,” said Stark, glancing back at his Forensic Mage as the man chanted his spell. “If you try to stop us then the guy who takes your place can complain. Now I’ve got a job to do, and you will stay out of the way.”
The Primate glared at him but did not make another move. Good thing, thought Stark. I will wipe my feet on your dead body if you get in the way. I’m not about to fail Mr. Daemon again if I can help it.
Minutes went by, and the Mage looked over at Stark and shook his head.
“Then cast a reveal hidden spell and look around here,” said Stark, growling. “They’ve got to be here.”
After a half an hour of scouring the Cathedral, even with the aid of the reveal hidden, they found nothing.
“Goddammit,” yelled Stark after they looked everywhere they could think of and couldn’t find them. “We’ll be back, Priest,” he yelled at the Primate. “I know you have something to do with hiding those scumbags. We’ll be back.”
Stark stormed up the stairs and walked back across the Nave, under the watchful eyes of a dozen priests. Fools, he thought as he stared at the Churchmen. False belief in a false God. He shook his head again, and headed out into the brightly lit night of his civilization.
* * *
The door at the top of the steps slid back. Jude squatted at the bottom of those steps, Sarah and Gerald back behind him, out of sight. He aimed his revolver at the entrance, and waited to see what he would need to do. Kill a man? In a church? If it was one of the Magara then he would do so. He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw who was at the door.
“It’s safe,” said the Primate, sticking his head into the open. “They were here, but we sent them away.”
“They used magic?” said Jude, shaking his head. “Why couldn’t they locate our hiding place?”
“The power of the Good God,” said the Primate, smiling. “He did not want you found. So you were not found.”
Jude shook his head in disbelief, looking from face to face and seeing acceptance written there.
“You have to believe in something,” said Sarah, putting her hands around his arm. “So why not believe in this.”
Chapter-Twenty-Five
Lucius Daemon sat in the chair outside his manor house, up on a hill, looking at the lights of the city below. It was nearing the witching hour, midnight, and he felt the thrill of anticipation in his stomach, along with just a little bit of fear. If he had figured wrong then nothing would happen tonight. If he had figured very wrong then this might be his last night on Earth. Whichever way it went, he would not help it by becoming anxious or worried, so he said the calming mantra he had learned as a young mage, and focused his mind on controlling the powers around him.
Tonight the house was supercharged with energy. He had pulled as much power as the house grid could handle into the system, supplementing it with the energy stored in his body. He had read spells all day, making sure they were committed to memory, and had a dozen set to trigger words for fast deployment. He had even supplemented the house security with people he knew could help him in the fight he hoped would occur here tonight.
He knew the army mages and their attendant troops also walked the streets this night. Hoping to get a sight of the beast and destroy it. There were a couple of teams within quick response time of the house. In one way Daemon hoped that they found and destroyed the creature before it found the Archmage. In another he hoped that they missed it, so he could have the pleasure of the kill.
Come on you bastard, he thought, images of his wife and son in the forefront of his mind. His son had been a little malcontent, never listening, never doing anything of benefit to the family, only out for his own gain. Yvette had not been much of a sexual partner, but she was a decent companion. At a deep level he had loved them both, as much as he was able to love anyone. Whatever it was that had killed them would pay, even if it took his life. And with luck he might be able to track down whoever had sent it and make them pay as well. But it had to appear first, or his plans wouldn’t matter.
By all logic he should be the next target. It had moved up the chain of command over the last week and a half, finishing with his son and then his wife. He was next in the chain, and the last link. Come on, dammit, he thought again, as the clock ticked off the first minute past midnight.
We have something sighted, said a voice in Daemon’s head, coming in from one of the mages he had posted on the perimeter. His mind told him the man’s name, Andre Waters, which gave him the man’s location. He looked through the lesser Mage’s eyes and watched as the swirling tornado of red moved down the street, past the vantage point, heading toward the fence that separated his estate from the homes of the masses.
I wish I had eyes on it when it first appears, thought Daemon, watching in fascination as the red whirlwind picked up some small items of debris and threw them through the air. Then I could send troops to take down whoever my enemy is, and wash my hands of the whole mess. So far though, no one had any idea of where the entity originated, or what level of hell or other dimension it might have been called from. Only that it was not described in any of the texts of demonology. That was also puzzling to the Archmage. If it wasn’t described how could someone call it up? It took an exceptional mage to develop a new path of magic, and most mages like that were not interested in getting revenge on another practitioner.
The red entity hopped into t
he air, just like the normal twister it resembled. Over the fence it went and landed back on the ground, swirling leaves and twigs into its maelstrom, spinning them around its circumference.
Daemon stood, grabbing the mage’s staff in his right hand and making ready. He was aware of the many rings on his fingers, all thrumming with energy, and the pair of amulets he wore around his neck. He had a multi-layered shield around his body, the energy from the circuit feeding it, strengthening it from moment to moment. Unlike the entity’s other victims, he was prepared for battle. If anyone could defeat the thing it was he. If he couldn't do it, he was sure that no one else could.
Here it comes, he thought, watching the swirling vortex moving up the hill toward the house. Leaves spun in the air to shower down on three sides of the thing. An object flew by Daemon, and a window shattered behind him as that projectile struck. Daemon bared his teeth in a beastly smile, waiting for the moment when he could fire back at the thing. He waited patiently for that moment, a patience his years of practice and training had given him.
Now, he thought, shouting out a power word and sending a ball of force into the entity. The rippling wave of energy moved through the air, striking the red vortex in its center, and doing, nothing. Daemon grunted in disbelief, wondering if his wife and son had suffered the same result when they had thrown magic at the entity. Have to try something else, he thought, raising a hand and selecting one of the rings in his mind. A beam of chilling force flowed from the ring, striking the red vortex at the same point as the ball of force. The vortex recoiled a bit, then came on. Daemon sent another beam of freezing energy into the entity, then another, noting that each strike had less effect than the one before, until the last had no effect at all.
Damn, thought Daemon, feeling a bit of fear now, forcing it down before it grew to panic. If he panicked he would not be able to control the situation, and then he would be done. He selected another ring, sending a beam of pure heat into the thing. Again it slowed for a moment. The leaves swirling around in its vortex, which had been quick frozen by the previous beam, flashed into fire that was quickly blown out by the vortex’s winds.
The four other mages that had been hidden now opened up with their power. A ball of force, a ball of fire, and two bolts of lightning streaked into the vortex. It wavered under the attack, then strengthened. The mages threw more attacks its way. This time, once again, the effects were less. The third attack did basically nothing.
Lucius Daemon raised his staff to the sky and played his ace in the hole. A wind rose from behind him, the north, at first a strong breeze, rising quickly. Daemon pointed his staff to the east, then the west, and winds rose from those directions. They freshened to strong winds, then to gales. The nearby trees whipped in the wind, shedding leaves by the thousands. The entity attempted to forge ahead, but was stopped in its tracks. It went to the left, then the right, and was pushed back from both directions.
“Start raising the shields,” yelled Daemon, as he continued to pour his will and energy into the winds. The entity was trapped. The winds met in the center and formed a swirling maelstrom around the entity, a vortex around the vortex. The other mages threw up walls of power outside of the tornado Daemon was controlling, adding layer upon layer, continually strengthening the wall. Daemon threw a last bit of energy into the winds and let go of that spell, his quick mind grabbing at the quadruple row of shields the other mages had erected, words of power spouting from his mouth as he directed the energy flow and increased the flux of the shields. While he was doing that the other mages erected further shields, bending them over the top of the vortex and linking them, forming an overhead that they hoped would keep the vortex from leaping away.
Daemon reached out with his mind, changing the resonances of each shield, hoping that one would prove to be impenetrable to the entity. He reached out to the second quartet and strengthened them, then changed their resonances. He grabbed all of the shields with his mind and started their contraction, moving them in on the vortex they trapped.
The first shield moved through the vortex without effect, the red energy slipping through it like it was a colander. Daemon frowned. He had expected that most of the shields would be more or less impenetrable to the energy. He remembered how this same vortex, or one similar to it, had penetrated the building defenses of so many residences without problem. When the second shield did the same he started to worry. It only takes one, he thought, forcing the third shield in. This one had a bit more effect. The energy still flowed through it, but at a much slower rate. The fourth shield was as useless as the first two.
The fifth shield pushed against the vortex and showed no leakage. Daemon cheered in his mind, even as he changed the resonance of the sixth shield to match the fifth. He compressed them both in. The vortex resisted, pushing back out with its energy. It was limited to the energy it already contained within itself. It could draw on no other sources of power, hemmed in as it was. While the shields were pulling in almost unlimited power from the net.
The entity brightened while its vortex picked up speed, trying to force its way past the shields, or physically push them open so it could escape. The shields grew brighter as they absorbed more energy. They drew in, closer and closer. The vortex slowed as it was squeezed, the entity losing its room to spin up. The shields squeezed in discrete stages, one every five seconds, closing in a foot or so from each side. Finally the vortex was reduced to a non-spinning column about a yard wide. It let out a squealing sound like a trapped animal.
Daemon walked toward the trapped entity, feeling in complete control of the situation. He looked at the thing with his second sight, studying the energy resonances, the play of different forces. He had never seen anything like it, and could think of no one who might have constructed such a thing. Or called it from another dimension. Still a mystery, he thought, looking at the smallest detail of the thing. Still deadly, he thought, not willing to try to transport it to a holding cell, too worried that it might get away and come after him again. And the next time he couldn’t be sure he would win against such a powerful demon.
Daemon sent out a thought as he snapped his fingers. The shields continued to contract, glowing with residual red energy as they absorbed the entity. With a final snap they closed, and the entity was destroyed with a short howl. Daemon wasn’t sure whether that noise meant the thing died in pain. He hoped it had, in the greatest agony possible. That would serve it right for killing so many of Daemon’s people, his son, ending with his wife.
“Good job, everyone,” said Daemon, looking at the other mages and support personnel as they walked toward him. “Everybody take tomorrow off, with pay. And of course there will be bonuses for everyone.”
There were cheers all around as the people headed off to whatever homes they had. Daemon looked once again at the spot where the avenging force had swirled its last. He felt satisfaction at having destroyed it. But he was no closer to discovering its source than he had been when the night began. He hoped that this was the end of the matter. But he didn’t think it was, not by a long shot. There was still the sender out there. He was sure that there was one, if not more. Things like this didn't just self-generate and come after people. Did they?
Chapter Twenty-Six
“You’re sure you want to do this?” asked Sarah, standing beside Jude at the side of the baptismal font. “You know it doesn’t work unless you believe.”
“I’m not sure I want to give up my magic,” said the Detective, looking up at the stain glass panels set high on the walls, showing the hand of God descending from the heavens. “But I do believe in your God, and in his power. After seeing the mission, after being shielded from the searching magic of the Magara Mage, how could I not believe in his power?”
“The power of the Good God will watch over you,” she said, grasping his arm. “You’ll see. It will be better protection than your magic.”
Jude nodded his head, not sure he really believed the last part of her statement. He had se
en the power of her God. He had also seen the power of magic, and magic was something he could control. But he also knew he needed the aid of this Church to accomplish what he needed to. To use their power he had to be a member of their congregation. There was no way around that. So he would undergo the ritual and become a member of their church.
The Primate, Jasper Burns, Archbishop of Manhat, had agreed to perform the ceremony himself. He was dressed in his everyday church robes, which were still ornate enough for a man of his position. The red robes were embroidered with cloth of gold thread and inset with jewels, as was the bishop’s crown on his head, and the polished wooden staff in his hand. Jude remembered from his own upbringing some of the usages of the Church, the structure of the ceremonies. He had also forgotten much, and Sarah had coached him before the ceremony on what he was to do.
Burns stepped in front of Jude, and the Detective went down on his knees on one side of the baptismal, while Sarah stood behind him and put her hand on his shoulder. The Bishop smiled down at him, then said a soft prayer, his eyes closed. When he opened them again he flashed Jude another smile and removed a metal object from the fount.
“The origins of baptism are obscured by the mists of time,” said the Bishop, looking down on Jude. “Many other religions practiced it, before the coming of magic. We have adopted the practice from those extinct denominations, because of its historical significance.”
Jasper dipped the metal object back into the water and looked up, praying under his breath, then looking back down at Jude.
“Are you ready to be baptized my son?” he asked. “Are you ready to dedicate yourself to the Good God, forsaking the evils of the world?”
“I am,” said Jude, feeling the sincerity of the Bishop and matching it with his own.
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