“See, this ain’t no good. Sheeple always doing shit. But I've neva seen anyone try to summon an angel in a graveyard. This is not the work of the Bakor or Mambo. Hell, the Paleros not even this messy. And why did they cut the breasts off of the women? I say it’s some sort of dark, sex magic ritual,” Masaka said.
She began to break the Malachim sigils etched into the ground with the end of her shovel, and the bright, night sky suddenly became dark; covered in a shadowy cloud of malevolent intent. The unsettled spirits of the cemetery began to stir to Masaka's dismay, but the disturbance caused D’Artagnan to call the Grand Rotunda for a report.
“Yo Rex! We at de place. But dey burn some other witches. And dey cut de bitches’ titties off mon!” he exclaimed causing Rufus to strap on his boots and meet them.
Masaka began to wave her shovel around keeping the spirits at a reasonable distance from them.
“You Knights shine like the sun and the spirits want a taste,” Masaka said winking.
“You talking about de spirits or you?” D'Artagnan asked.
Rufus pulled up in his jeep, a cigar sticking out of the side of his mouth. “This shit is getting ridiculous. Who's the man?” Rufus asked as he canvassed the place.
Upon further inspection, the Knights discovered that the male victim was an Albedo level Alchemist which added to the enigma. Lance, who was never one for passing up a challenge, met Cesare, D’Artagnan and Rufus Sosius at the ritual site.
The burnt carcass of the Alchemist showed there were parts missing, including his penis which was odd even to the Order of Magia Chaotica. Lance fist bumped Cesare and D’Artagnan who was frowning at the smell of the bodies.
“Hi Lance,” Masaka said, batting her eyes again.
“Masaka,” Lance replied, trying not to give eye contact.
“What happened?” Lance asked, trying to ignore the smell. Rufus stood with his eyes completely whited out as he summoned his gift, the Anamnesis, which allowed him to wind back time.
“Shh. We’ll see in just a minute,” he said, as time began to rewind. The Knights stood still as the events of the previous moments passed by them in fast rewind mode. Rufus held his hand up and the motion stopped. He motioned for it to play out and the Knights stood amongst the dead, as they were alive.
Three witches were being dragged by a hooded man whose face was completely shielded; exerting full control of them. Upon the back of his hood was the pug of the Order of Mopses. Lance bit his lip as it was just as Luis explained, but continued to watch silently.
The perpetrator tied the women up and beat the Alchemist to the brink of death. He sliced the breasts off of the women with a curved blade, placing them in a bag hanging at his side. The screams of the witches were permeating as they were still alive, but were soon silenced as the fires consumed them.
As Cesare watched, his mind began to tick to a time where he too felt the flames of condemnation. The fires began to send him into a trance; one he welcomed as he took great pleasure from the sight. D’Artagnan and Lance stood still with their disgust clearly visible on their faces.
After the three victims had passed on to the underworld, the hooded man then drew angelic sigils on the ground and set them on fire. Several white lights shot from the burning sigils into the night's sky and he took off running.
Rufus ended the regression and brought them back to the present. Cesare untied his hair which fell just above his navel in the front, as the tie started to squeeze the back of his head.
“So it’s begun boys. War time. Whoever this is, wants us to believe sheeple are summoning angels. This is definitely the work of one of the Hidden, a sacrifice of sort. This is the second witch burning this night so all bets say it’s the same guy. In all, we’ve got six dead witches and an Alchemist on our hands. Funny how it happens on the same night Dante the Seer informed me that The Prophet will attempt a mass awakening in two days. I knew no sheeple order was crafty enough to bypass the barriers and veils of the Barons and summon angels directly onto Malkuth. This is a mirage. But that isn’t even our biggest issue. At the mass awakening, The Prophet will also attempt to make peace with the angels that are here on Earth,” Rufus said as Cesare scoffed.
“Angels? Fuck the angels,” he said under his breath.
“Hell yeah. I say we deal wit de angels de way we always do. Wit de sword!” D'Artagnan said frowning his face.
“I've always wondered why the Order of the Star and Crescent declined entry into the council. Now we see it may be for other reasons,” Lance added.
Cesare looked down at the angel blades in his hand bearing the names of Chamuel and Lamiel. He smiled as he remembered obtaining them, but always felt that the angelic orders would try and retrieve them one day. While the Knights talked amongst each other, Lance looked down in the ash and saw a gold cufflink which had a small red bull engraved.
“Fucking Luis,” he said picking it up inconspicuously.
“Shit Borgia, I don’t like the situation any more than you do, but we have to keep our composure. You know when the shit hits the fan, we get blamed. Since we have a dead Alchemist on our hands, we have to call Ordo Magnum Opus to come get him,” Rufus said; Cesare staring as though he wanted to punch him.
“Don’t give me shit about it! If we don’t call them to come clean up their mess, we'll get blamed for his murder. I’m not in a mood for a fight with Solon,” Rufus said staring at Cesare who shrugged arrogantly.
Rufus lifted his hand and released two energy shots to the sky. The seals of the Cult of Winged Reapers and Ordo Magnum Opus flashed in the sky like spotlights in front of a theater. Only the eyes of the Hidden can see the calls of distress, and only answered by those which the calls were directed.
Masaka who had nothing more to do leaned on her shovel, enjoying the company of the Knights. Lorne Davies arrived by broomstick with the crest of the Cult of Winged Reapers on the breastplate of his brown uniform.
He was a dashing man; golden blonde hair combed to the side, blue eyes, a pointed nose and large white teeth. Lorne's confidence was almost infectious but at times over bearing. He was accompanied by Clyde Barron III, nephew to Matilda and Warlock General of The Armored Fleet; a lesser order of the Cult of Winged Reapers.
Clyde wore a black hood which hid his not so handsome face. Two large ravens landed on his shoulders as he paced the scene; adjusting his silver breastplate. His black hair fell down to his shoulder, which he had parted on the side. His sharp teeth were hidden behind a pair of thin lips which always formed a devious smirk.
Clyde wasn’t a very tall man, and walked with a slight limp as the Warlocks were known not to pass up a good fight. He once felt the diamond blade of a Mujāhidūn of the Order of the Star and Crescent, and the wound never healed.
“Sons of bitches!” Clyde shouted, as he kicked a pile of ash. “Who did it?” he asked, turning towards Rufus.
“It was one man. Hooded. Another one appeared to take their souls. No faces could be seen.”
“And the Alchemist? Why was he with our witches?” Clyde continued to ask.
“Nothing is certain, but we’re going to find out,” Rufus answered.
Lorne took out two urns and the ashes of the women began to funnel inside. “The fact that he's missing his dick alludes to sex magic. But alas, there are no Blue Goddesses here,” Clyde said as he continued to inspect.
“The BGs don't castrate in their rituals,” Lance said.
“No, but they can make a dick disappear,” Clyde said smiling.
All the guys laughed as the statement was too true for each of them.
“We’ll do a divination and find out who they were and give them a proper resting. As for that guy, yeah --,” Lorne said as no one cared to touch the dead Alchemist.
A portal opened just beyond the pyre site and all turned in that direction. A tall, pale man with long straight black hair walked through wearing red silk robes. His slightly slanted eyes and straight brows added to the appearance of someone w
ho was up to no good. Cornelius Agrippa approached by himself, which was somewhat odd for a member of Ordo Magnum Opus.
“I thought you Alchemists travel in packs,” Cesare said slyly. Lancelot took out a cigarette as he anticipated his brother starting a fight.
“Good evening gentlemen. And Masaka,” Cornelius said as he approached the burned corpse of the low level Alchemist. He shot a cold look towards Clyde who was grinning ear to ear.
“What’s that look for? You boys aren’t still made about that castle thing are you?” he asked sarcastically. Cornelius rolled his eyes, hard.
“Anyways, it is a curious thing to see one of our Albedos here. They are not allowed outside of Castle Panchrest.”
“Yet, here one lays. Burnt to a fucking crisp,” Cesare interjected, staring at him arrogantly.
“Funny how you’ve been endowed with the gift of stating the obvious,” Cornelius snapped back. Cornelius lowered his eyes which were already slanted; giving the appearance of being closed. His face, long and thin, yet good looking, won the heart of Solon the Great, but no one else. Cornelius was not popular in the Hidden world yet, he was powerful and didn’t mind reminding people of that fact.
He stood silently waiting a retort as the wind brushed his long hair across his back. Cesare shook his head bowing out of the verbal bout causing Cornelius to smile triumphantly.
“That hair is truly divine,” Masaka said, admiring its glossy shine.
“It’s all in the conditioning,” he replied smiling. Clyde shot a look of disbelief to Cesare as they talked about hair care in the midst of burnt witches. He cleared his throat and pointed at the dead people to get everyone back on track.
“Well, we will see this as an act of war. Witch burnings to this magnitude haven’t happened in quite some time,” Cornelius said.
Cesare scoffed. “That is where you are wrong. Witch burnings happen all the time. These are not the first Reapers to die this way since the middle ages. But you pompous pricks wouldn’t know that because you’re scared to come off your mountain. Or perhaps, too busy ass fucking each other to realize that time has left you trapped in the 14th century,” Cesare said. Cornelius was becoming angry and Cesare could feel his energy rising.
“Oh goody! Ten bucks says the Knight wins,” Clyde said rubbing his hands, ready to see a duel.
“Come on, there's still enough wood for another Alchemist,” Cesare added, unleashing the wrath of Cornelius Agrippa.
Cornelius grabbed a handful of dirt, as he threw it, he transmutated it into a whip, wrapping it around Cesare; pulling him to the ground. Unlike most Rubedo level Alchemists whose power was limited to the transmutation of base metals and certain inanimate objects, Cornelius’ mastery of Alchemy could turn any object around him into whatever he imagined.
Cornelius then turned the whip into a snake, which tightened and choked him. Lance and D'Artagnan put their blades to Cornelius's throat, but he attempted to melt them with his power.
The Gehenna of the Magia blades was unlike any Earth metal he could bend. They were too strong for him and he held up his hands in defeat. Cesare began to summon his fire and aimed it towards Cornelius who began to laugh as the fires caused him no harm.
He stood impervious to Cesare's flames, laughing victoriously. Cesare was about to kick it up a notch when Rufus motioned for him to stand down. He pulled his fires back inside of him, pissed that he made no mark on the pompous Alchemist. Cornelius tapped on a stone dangling from his neck.
“I have heard about you and your gift of flame. But see, we Alchemists have a remedy for every problem,” he said, holding up a red stone which they called the amiante.
“Enough!” Rufus shouted standing between the two. “We are not here for this shit! Stand down Knight!” he ordered Cesare. Cesare's eyes were full of flame, but Cornelius was not afraid, nor was he impressed.
Cesare shot his fires towards Cornelius's robes and they went up in flames causing him to throw it off, revealing the many sigils tattooed upon his skin moving about his bare chest.
“Touché,” Cornelius said with a slight laugh. He threw his cinched robe on the ground and watched Cesare as it became anew.
“Mmm. Cesare. I do love witches’ duels,” Masaka said, getting slightly turned on by the abilities on both sides. Clyde and Lorne stared at each other watching the show; Lorne slipping ten bucks to Clyde.
“It’s almost hard to believe this is the same Knight that wields the blade of Chamuel. Your weak display of power is almost embarrassing,” Cornelius said, huffing at Cesare.
“You have not felt my Flames of Fervor yet asshole!” he shouted. Cesare reached for him but Rufus stopped him. Cornelius grabbed the burnt Alchemist and opened a portal to Castle Panchrest.
“Farewell, weakling,” he said walking through. Cesare began to scream at the top of his lungs as he shot fire into the air.
“Well hell, you should’ve done that to him,” Clyde said sarcastically.
“Do you want some too warlock?” Cesare stormed. Clyde shrugged, tapping on the sharp steel weapon which the Warlocks called The Oathbreaker. Shaped like the inverted pentacle from the Armored Fleet seal, it was clasped to the breastplate of his vest and could only be used by the Warlock the Iron Fists fashioned it for. The Oathbreaker could slice its way through anything; the most powerful of Warlocks had been known to harness enough power to slice through the diamond blades of the Mujāhidūn.
“I'm sure we'll have our day, but it’s not today. I feel a sudden illness coming on which only the Blue Goddesses can cure. I'll take you up on that another day,” Clyde said mounting his broom.
Lorne bid the Knights farewell and headed back to the headquarters which the Reapers called Coven Aradia, to report to Matilda, the Crone of their Order.
***
“Borgia! I hate the Alchemists just as much as you. But you've got to learn that there's a time and place for action. Not to mention that I'm highly pissed you didn’t fuck his ass up!” Rufus stormed.
Cesare was mad about it too and was already contemplating revenge.
“Apart from that, since when can Alchemists create portals?” Lance asked.
“Right. Dem Alchemists is sneaky no? Dey learning new powers and shit to kill us with later.”
Rufus was silent but agreed with their assessment. He had never seen an Alchemist create portals and he was curious about it. “Cornelius hails from one of the oldest magical families in the world. Many of them, not all, were Alchemists. It’s an odd thing, but I’m not surprised.”
“Well surprise, surprise! It just so happens that we have an Alchemist spy sitting at the Round Table. Who knows what secret powers he may wield. He’s the only member of our brotherhood that isn’t an initiated member of the Order of Magia Chaotica. Yet he has a throne,” Cesare said.
“No thanks to your bitch. I told her ass it was a bad idea!” Rufus shouted back.
“Oh, don’t go blaming Mila! She only has the power to knight us, but it is the power of Magia Magnificent Rex to initiate the Black Knights! Why not make him choose?” Cesare pressed on. Rufus was visibly angry and Cesare couldn’t help but instigate further.
“When shit gets ugly and it’s our side against them, what then Rex? I don’t like sitting at the table across from someone who sucks dick and eats pussy at the same time! I’m just saying,” Cesare continued on.
“What the fuck do you want me to do about it Borgia?! His name was cast in the lot just like the rest of us. Was I just supposed to ignore a three-thousand-year old tradition for one god damn Alchemist!?”
“Funny how in three thousand years that this shit has only happened one time. That alone raises suspicion.”
As the two Knights went back and forth about Messalla, D'Artagnan began to feel an ominous presence approach and took out his blade.
“Dat energy feel weird no?”
“That energy feels, divine,” Cesare said, as his eyes turned black; readying himself for battle.
The Knigh
ts became quiet, looking towards the gate entrance where a cluster of spirit orbs gathered; their lights glowing brighter with each passing moment. In the blink of an eye, the silhouette of a man stood amongst the orbs with his hands extended outward. He was hooded, with strange etchings glowing in his chest area.
“Look Rex, its the killer! He come back!”
“No, this is not the killer, this is --”
“Holy is I Am, who is, and was, and will be. For His very name is power and eternity, in His hands are the scales of judgment and fear of Him is the only reverence worthy of the flesh,” Cesare intensely, summoning his spirit fire.
“I am Rufus Sosius the Elder and I command you to identify yourself!”
“I Am,” the man said, as all sounds ceased around them.
“Rex, now de dead ones come,” D’Artagnan said as the spirits of the dead began to rise.
In the amidst of the drama, Lance's phone began to ring and he looked at the number, quickly dropping the call. A text message came through asking: Where are you? He sighed, becoming instantly annoyed at yet another prospect for sex. He quickly responded: Standing next to your husband.
D'Artagnan stared at Lance, who wasn’t his favorite Knight for obvious reasons, as he could feel his mood shifting. “You feel the doom coming Lance?” D'Artagnan asked.
“I feel something,” he responded, thinking about the text. He attempted to completely break it off with Josie, but to no avail, she couldn’t get enough of him. The fact that she only contacted him for sex had him feeling used which was enough for him to never speak to her again.
Several dozen spirits began to encircle the Knights; clawing at their auras as they craved a taste of the light. The hooded man disappeared as Masaka began to bang her shovel upon the ground.
“I am Guédé Masaka, and with these bare hands did I lay you to rest. I have not called you to rise, so lay back down motherfuckers!” she shouted, but the spirits seemed to pay her no mind. Masaka began to twirl the shovel, hitting the spirits as they flew past her.
“Damn,” Lance said as he watched Masaka bash the spirits in the head. She created a strong wind, which grabbed the spirits and drug them back to their graves. Cesare continued to stand still, looking towards the gate that was now swinging back and forth off the hinge.
Knights of Enmity: The Barons Have Fallen (Descending Fires Book 1) Page 8
