Infernal Cries: An Echo Team Urban Fantasy Novel

by Joseph Hutton

  What was I thinking? How could I have been so stupid?

  His time away from the Order had made him complacent, it seemed, for he had not seen the threat even when it was right there, staring him in the face.

  He had not been a praying man for some time, and even before that he’d had what could only be called a rather contentious relationship with the Almighty, but he prayed now, prayed fervently in fact, desperately asking for assistance from a God he wasn’t certain he believed in any longer but knowing even as he did so that he had nowhere else to turn.

  As he pulled into the driveway of his home in Willow Grove, however, he knew his prayers had been fruitless. The front door, which he had left closed and securely locked behind him when he left earlier that evening, was now smashed open and hanging in its frame, supported by a single hinge.

  Inside, darkness beckoned.

  Cade pulled into the driveway and shut off the engine to the SUV. His heart was screaming at him to rush into the house and see what had happened to Gabrielle, but he ignored it, knowing that was precisely what the enemy wanted him to do; to rush in blindly and get himself killed. The Adversary had tried that once and nearly succeeded; Cade was determined not to fall for that trick a second time.

  He got out of the truck and pocketed the keys, never taking his gaze off the front of the house. He hadn’t noticed it before but the darkened windows and gaping doorway all seemed to remind him of a young girl screaming.

  That is not a comforting thought.

  Leaving the driver’s door open behind him in case he had to make a quick getaway, he pulled his pistol out from under his shirt and advanced toward the house, his weapon at the ready.

  He stepped through the open doorway and then paused, listening for movement anywhere in the house. He didn’t hear anything. He moved through the lower rooms, turning on lights as he went, not wanting to get caught in the dark with the kinds of things that the Necromancer had at his beck and call. The living room and foyer led into a formal dining room and then a kitchen/great room combination, with a grand staircase leading to the second floor.

  Where Gabbi’s room was.

  Before going up the stairs Cade stepped over to the fireplace, to where a pair of samurai swords hung on a rack. He took down the longer blade, the katana, and drew it by flicking the scabbard away with a twist of his wrist.

  He wanted to be prepared; guns didn’t always work. There were plenty of creatures out there in the dark corners of the world that were only affected by blows delivered with emotion or faith behind them and that required something more personal than a gun. It was the reason why all Templars went into battle with a blade at their side along with their firearms.

  This particular weapon wasn’t his blessed blade – that was in the workshop behind the house – but it would do for what he had in mind.

  Then, with sword and gun in hand, he went in search of his wife.

  The upper floor held two guest rooms separated by a guest bath, all of which were empty, and there, at the end of the hall, the master bedroom that Cade had turned into Gabbi’s sanctuary.

  The lock had been blasted away with a bolt of arcane power, the door smashed inward like the entrance to the home.

  Gabrielle! his heart screamed, but he kept his emotions in check, refusing to lose it now.

  He stepped to the door and then inside the room.

  As he stepped into the master bedroom he sensed movement coming from his left and he spun in that direction, dropping to one knee to get out of the line of attack.

  The move saved his life, for the spectre that had been about to try to take his head only managed to rake his back as it passed overhead. Pain flared, but Cade could tell it was a minor wound and shouldn’t do much to slow him down.

  Guns were useless against spectres because of their wraith-like forms. Knowing this, Cade dropped his pistol on the floor and rose with his sword extended, ready for battle.

  There were four of them and they closed in a rush.

  The spectres swarmed around him, striving to slip past his defenses, to gain the opportunity to sink their fangs into his flesh or rake him with their claws, but each time they were met with the keen edge of Cade’s blade.

  He fought like a demon, snarling in rage, directing every ounce of his anger down through the weapon at his attackers. All the fury and frustration he’d felt, all his fear and worry over Gabrielle’s fate, was funneled into his blows now that he had a target. His sword spun like a dervish, striking with deadly accuracy.

  Two spectres fell in the first moments of combat, unprepared for the ferocity of their opponent’s attack. The third fared better for a time, managing to pierce Cade’s defenses and inflict minor wounds, but even that was not enough to stop the Heretic.

  When the third spectre fell beneath the fury of Cade’s attack, the fourth gave a shriek of rage and turned to retreat. Cade didn’t give it the chance; he lunged, impaling it with his sword and then slashing it in half as he pulled the weapon free.

  The battle was over, it seemed, at least for the moment.

  Cade was standing in the middle of the room, blood dripping from the claw marks across his shoulder and back, when it happened.

  The phone rang.

  Cade spun around, the sword in his hands coming up automatically, before he had even processed the sound and understood what it was. As the phone continued to ring, Cade stared at it.

  Felt compelled to answer it.

  He lifted the receiver and put it to his ear, knowing even as he did so who he would find on the other end.

  “Hello, Knight Commander.”

  The man’s voice grated, like the sound of glass being chewed.

  Cade clenched his teeth together to keep from screaming in rage at the sound of the Necromancer’s voice.

  “I see it didn’t take you long to deal with my little pets.”

  With his emotions under control, Cade asked, “What have you done with her?”

  The Necromancer laughed. “Always to the point. It is one of the things I like about your, Knight Commander. Your wife is quite safe, I assure you.”

  That was not the answer Cade was expecting and for a few seconds it brought him up short. When he found his voice he asked, “What do you want?”

  “What do I want? Why your help, of course, Knight Commander. In exchange for the health and well-being of your wife.”

  There was a long moment of silence, but in the end, there was really only one answer Cade could give.

  “I’m listening,” he said.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Riley stood where he was and waited for the Preceptor and his entourage to reach him. It was a minor breach of etiquette, but made Riley feel good, nonetheless. It wasn’t lost on the Preceptor apparently, for Johannson frowned as he stopped in front of him.

  “Preceptor,” Riley said, inclining his head slightly. “I wasn’t…”

  “Expecting me? Of course you weren’t,” Johannson snapped. He gave Riley a hard look, one that clearly said "I won’t forget this," and then stepped past him toward the door of the warehouse. “Did we get him?”

  The him was, presumably, the Necromancer and Riley resisted the urge to remark that they wouldn’t all be standing around with their thumbs in their asses if they had caught him.

  Play nice, he reminded himself.

  “No, sir, he was already gone when we arrived.”

  Preceptor Johannson glanced back. Riley would have sworn his frown had gotten deeper.

  “Gone? Gone where?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to ascertain, sir.”

  “I…see.”

  The contempt in the man’s voice was obvious and Riley gritted his teeth to keep from reacting. He knew a reaction was just what the man wanted and he refused to give him the satisfaction.

  They passed the guards stationed at the door and entered the warehouse.

  “This way, sir,” Riley said, stepping around the Preceptor and leading him down the ais
le between the shipping containers. When they reached the area at the back of the warehouse where the ritual had taken place, Riley stepped aside, giving the other man a clear view of the scene.

  Unlike most of the other men in the room the Preceptor had never served in the field and Riley took some minor satisfaction in watching the man struggle with his facial expression as his stomach no doubt threatened to revolt. It was petty, he knew, but satisfying.

  He really didn’t like this man.

  After a moment spent getting himself under control, the Preceptor waved a hand at the blood and bodies in front of him.

  “What was the point? What was he trying to accomplish?”

  It was an excellent question and one for which Riley wished he had an answer. Unfortunately, the one person who might have some insight into the issue had just stolen his SUV and raced off into the night.

  “It is clearly a ceremonial ritual,” he began, and then spent the next few minutes filling in the Preceptor on what they had discovered since their arrival. It was thin, and he knew it, but there wasn’t much he could do about that right now. He needed to get a team of technicians in to examine the scene; perhaps they’d learn more once the forensics squad had a chance to process the place.

  And of course there was whatever Cade had seen…

  One of the Preceptor’s aides stepped over to him and whispered something in his ear. The Preceptor nodded and then looked back at Riley, a surprised expression on his face.

  “Am I correct in understanding that Knight Commander Williams is here?”

  Riley’s hesitation was barely a fraction of a second long as he weighed his options. His instinct screamed at him to deny Cade’s presence, especially after the way his former commander had charged out of here, but the simple fact that Johannson had asked after the man showed that he already knew the answer to his question. There was nothing to be gained by lying.

  “Was here, sir. He left a few moments before you arrived.”

  Another frown.

  “I see. And where was Commander Williams going?”

  “He didn’t say, sir.”

  “And you don’t find that…interesting, Captain?”

  Damned strange was more like it, but there was no way he would tell Johannson that.

  “No, sir. Knight Commander Williams has always been free to come and go at his own discretion.”

  The Preceptor stared at him for a long moment without saying anything. Then, almost casually, he asked, “Tell me, Captain, have you seen the paperwork ordering the Necromancer be moved to Longfort?”

  Riley nodded, ignoring the abrupt change of subject. “I have,” he replied. “The order was legitimate; it originated in the Adjutant General’s office and was the direct result of the findings at trial the week before. Logan was found guilty and sentenced to life in prison. The order to remand him to Longfort was simply to allow him to carry out his sentence.”

  “So you don’t believe that any of our people were involved?”

  Now it was Riley’s turn to frown. “Our people?” he scoffed. “I don’t see how that’s even possible. Logan has been kept in isolation for months, with barely an opportunity to speak to anyone. He has three sets of guards permanently attached to him, all veterans with impeccable records. There was nothing the Necromancer could have offered that would have interested them in any way. All without families, so he couldn’t threaten their loved ones in order to force cooperation either.”

  “And yet it is these same guards that have disappeared?”

  Riley’s tone was flat with anger as he replied, “We suspect that they’re dead, Preceptor, not running around helping our enemy, especially one as foul as the Necromancer. I’d swear on my mother’s grave that they had nothing to do with the escape.”

  The Preceptor watched him closely for a moment, making Riley wonder just what the hell he had missed. The transport crew were on the up-and-up; he’d bet his life on it.

  Johannson reached back toward his aide and snapped his fingers. The other man reached inside the leather attaché case he carried and withdrew a single sheet of paper, which he then passed to the Preceptor. The Preceptor, in turn, handed it to Riley.

  “What’s this?” Riley asked.

  “Read it,” was the curt reply.

  Riley did so.

  It was an order remanding the Necromancer into the custody of the warden at the Longfort Containment Facility. He scanned the document, noting that it seemed to be properly prepared and executed.

  “I don’t see what this…”

  His gaze fell on the last line of the document and he stopped in mid-sentence. The order was dated three months earlier, just prior to the Order’s attack on the Chiang Shih stronghold in the Beyond.

  More importantly, however, was the fact that it was signed by Cade Williams.

  The Preceptor reached out and took the paperwork out of Riley hands, then went on before the other man had a chance to comment. “Given the prior history between these two individuals, I think it prudent that we ask Knight Commander Williams to explain himself. I’m ordering you to locate the Knight Commander and to bring him in for questioning in this matter. The sooner the better.”

  Riley couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

  “Are you suggesting that Commander Williams was somehow involved in the Necromancer’s escape?” he asked. The notion was absolutely absurd.

  The Preceptor, however, apparently didn’t share Riley’s view. “We won’t really know until we speak to him, now will we?”

  Bullshit, Riley thought. Cade risked life and limb to personally apprehend the Necromancer just a few short months before. Why on earth would he do that only to turn around and help him escape again? Doing so made absolutely no sense.

  The Preceptor glanced around, as if proving that the sight of all the bloody mayhem no longer bothered him, and then turned his rueful stare on Riley. “I want the Necromancer found, Knight Captain, and found quickly. If that means bringing Commander Williams in for questioning then so be it. Pull out all the stops, do whatever you have to do, but get this man back into custody. We’ve never had an escape of this magnitude before and I’ll be damned if I’m to go down in the history books as the man who let this bastard lose. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Crystal clear, Riley thought. You’re more worried about your reputation than the innocent lives that are going to be impacted by this man’s escape. And you’ll throw Cade to the wolves in the process if that’s what it takes to make you look better.

  The Preceptor either didn’t notice or chose to overlook the sharpness in Riley’s tone. “I will expect regular updates and wish to speak to Commander Williams myself when you return to the commandery.”

  Then, having issued the orders that Riley was certain were his true purpose for being here, the Preceptor turned on his heel without another word and headed for the exit, his aides following suit behind him.

  Riley didn’t breathe a sigh of relief until he heard the whine of the helicopter outside as it fired up its rotors.

  Good riddance, he thought.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The crime scene unit came hustling in right in the wake of the Preceptor’s departure and for the next twenty minutes Riley had his hands full directing their efforts in processing the scene. Their work was well underway by the time he found a moment to follow-up on his other pressing concern.

  All the Templar vehicles – be they for land, sea, or sky – were outfitted with electronic tracking devices to allow the Order to best support their personnel in the field. The SUV Cade had decided to take for a joyride had one as well, and it was a relatively simple matter to corner Kepler, one of the Crime Scene Unit’s tech specialists, and ask him to run a trace on the vehicle.

  “Do you want to know where it is now or where it’s been?” Kepler asked.

  “You can do that? Track where the vehicle has been?” Riley was surprised, he hadn’t realized that was possible. />
  Kepler shrugged. “You make it sound like rocket science, but it’s really just a matter of tracking the cell towers that the tracker uses to ping its location and then building a trail from there. The towers purge their data nightly, so as long we’re not tracing a route that’s more than twenty-four hours old we’ll be just fine. Give me fifteen minutes.”

  It took less than ten. Before he knew it Riley was staring at a satellite map displayed on the screen of Kepler’s laptop watching a reconstruction of the route the SUV had taken after roaring out of the parking lot of the warehouse complex. The vehicle had wound its way through the city streets until it reached Interstate 95. From there it had headed southwest for several exits before getting off on one of the county roads leading north. A few short minutes after that the vehicle arrived at its destination.

  841 Didymus Lane.

  It was an address Riley knew well; he’d been teasing his friend about living on a street named after Doubting Thomas for years now.

  Kepler opened up a smaller window on the screen and looked at the numbers displayed there before whistling aloud. “Damn, your boy was moving fast!”

  “How can you tell?”

  “Look here,” Kepler said, pointing at one of the columns displayed on the screen. “These are the times that the transponder in the car binged the cell tower; there’s less then five minutes between pings. These numbers here,” he continued, pointing to another column, “give the distance between towers. I’m no math genius, but off the top of my head I’d say your boy was pushing a C-note headed down I95.”

  Why did Cade need to get home so fast?

  Riley didn’t know, but he intended to find out. He thanked Kepler for his help, gave orders to the rest of his team to assist with whatever the CSU squad needed, and then commandeered one of the other SUVs for his own use. Within minutes he was on his way out of the city, following the same route Cade had taken earlier.