Crossroads

by Stephen Kenson

  “Bring our prize, Isogi. I have someone who’s very eager to see him again.”

  Trouble came over and helped one of the yakuza lift me from the chair. Her gaze flicked across mine for a second, then her face resumed a look of bland disinterest.

  We made our way back down the elevator to the parking garage. Trouble took the wheel of the van while Garnoff sat in the passenger seat. With only a moment of hesitation, Isogi climbed into the back with me and one of his bodyguards, after giving instructions to the other, no doubt to carry a message to his oyabun. He clearly didn’t trust Garnoff, and he kept a careful watch on him and me both.

  We only went a short distance, to a public parking garage. The place was filling up with people going to various parties and festivities in the clubs and hotels of the city. Everyone wore different costumes, tending toward frightening images of ghouls, vampires, and other creatures of the night. It was still Halloween Night then, Samhain, the night when the walls between the physical world and the astral plane were the thinnest.

  Amidst the crowd of party-goers, we attracted little attention. If anyone noticed Isogi and his bodyguard practically carrying me down the stairs of the subway station, they saw only some friends helping another who’d gotten an early start on the party. There were several other people around who’d clearly been drinking or slotting recreational chips. No one thought anything was wrong.

  The subway car was filled with a crowd of strange figures. It was a mix of corporate “straight citizens.” street-types, and people dressed in the most outlandish costumes. For one night, all standards were turned upside-down. Some of the street-types wore their leathers and chains uncomfortably, playing on the wild side for a little while. I wondered how many real ghouls, ghosts, and vampires were abroad tonight. I knew of only one for sure and he sat quietly, with a smug look on his face, enjoying the spectacle.

  The softly glowing green time display on the edge of my field of vision read 23:41:08. I thought about how deep underground we were. I hoped a signal could carry to the surface well enough from here. If it didn’t, the others couldn’t find me. I was very likely a dead man.

  “I demand to know where we are going.” Isogi said quietly to Garnoff, barely audible over the shriek of the train as it rumbled and lurched through the tunnels.

  “In good time, Isogi-san, in good time.” the mage muttered. “We are nearly there.”

  We got off at the stop where Garnoff told us and made our way through the throngs of people on the platform to the tunnel itself. T-security had their hands full keeping an eye on everything going on in the trains and on the platform. No one noticed us slip away down the tunnel. I sensed a hint of magic in the ease of our movements. Garnoff was probably using illusions to conceal our movements. It would be easy in the Halloween crowd, where there were so many things to distract an onlooker’s attention already.

  The side tunnel was dark and dank, filled with a scent of rusting metal and damp decay. Over the rumbling and screeching of the trains, I could hear the sounds of small creatures squealing and scurrying past in the shadows. Isogi was looking quite uncomfortable as we made our way down the tunnel. His bodyguard and Trouble wore emotionless masks, and Garnoff seemed to almost shiver with barely controlled anticipation.

  The tunnel ended in a brick wall, but Garnoff didn’t miss a beat. He drew a slim white wand from his coat and began to trace symbols in the air in front of the wall, muttering quietly under his breath. As he did, I noticed the dull, creaking sound that provided a faint counterpoint to the chants. The passes of the wand left faintly glowing images in its wake that seemed to sink into the wall itself and disappear.

  “The wall is nothing more than an illusion covering a protective barrier.” Garnoff said. “Take him through.”

  Isogi and his bodyguard paused for a moment and looked at each other. Garnoff sighed and turned to Trouble.

  “Demonstrate, won’t you, my dear?” he said with exaggerated patience. Trouble looked at Garnoff for a moment, then nodded and walked carefully into the wall. She passed through it like smoke and vanished from sight. The yakuza carried me by the arms and led me stumbling through the illusion, into the room beyond.

  Trouble stood near the entrance, looking rather pale. The room had likely been some kind of maintenance or storage room at one point, but its gray walls were bare of any furnishings or adornment. A ring of standing torches stood in a circle around the center of the room. Dark, hunched figures clustered in the shadows near the walls of the chamber.

  In the center of the room dangled a burned and blackened corpse, hanging by its neck from a rope affixed to one of the heavy pipes that ran along the ceiling. The body swayed slightly and the rope creaked, the only sound in the room except for the occasional whisper or giggle from the shadows. The body did not move. It showed no outward signs of life, but the hanging corpse’s burning blue eyes still held the fires of anger and hatred. They seemed to stare right at me and bore into my own eyes. I felt like a bird facing the paralyzing gaze of a cobra.

  Memories of the metaplanes flooded back, and I saw my own twisted reflection staring at me from the mirror in the citadel. A dry and crackling voice whispered in my mind.

  Hello, father, Gallow said. It’s been a very long time.

  20

  “What is the meaning of this?” Tomo Isogi said, looking aghast as his eyes went from the hanging body to Garnoff and back again. “Is this what you have been using our money for? Explain yourself at once.”

  “Gladly, Isogi-san.” Garnoff said with an oily smile. “My research discovered a spirit of unprecedented power and potential imprisoned here. With the aid of your oyabun and the resources of my corporation, I have learned a great deal about this spirit and offered it a means of achieving its freedom. In return, it will grant us magical power enough to crush your enemies and establish the Hiramatsu-gumi as the ruling force of the Boston underworld. That will in turn grant Mitsuhama additional leverage in the metroplex, enough to edge out Novatech and any other company that opposes us here.”

  “And what of you?” Isogi said, his eyes narrowing. “Do you remain a humble servant of the company and the oyabun?”

  “Of course.” Garnoff said. “Although I am sure my station will be greatly improved by my success. And, of course, I will hold the secrets that will allow me to influence further research and development on the part of Mitsuhama.”

  “What of them?” Isogi said, gesturing toward the figures lurking in the shadows. “Who are they?”

  “Barukumin.” Garnoff said, using the Japanese word for outcasts, the “untouchable” caste of Japanese society. In the Awakened world, the barukumin mostly consisted of the most hideous of metahumans, their bodies and minds twisted by the return of magic. “They live down here in the Catacombs and know them well. I pay them to serve as my eyes and ears and hands in this place. They are also versed in certain rites I have taught them, allowing them to assist me with my rituals.”

  Isogi was clearly uncomfortable with the presence of so many twisted metahumans. Most Japanese didn’t care for kawaru, the “changed.” as they called them. Still, Garnoff ’s explanation made it clear the barukumin were servants, and that was a concept Isogi could deal with.

  “And this . . . spirit.” Isogi said with some distaste, looking over at the hanging corpse. “You can control it?” Garnoff held out his hands. “Not control, Isogi-san.” he said carefully. “It is willing to become our ally, provided we help it escape from the prison of flesh it is trapped in.”

  “Is that why you need him?” Isogi nodded toward me. “Exactly. Talon is closely linked to the spirit. His death will free it and allow it to turn its powers toward helping us.”

  “Then why haven’t you killed him already?”

  Garnoff shook his head like a schoolmaster speaking to a small child. “It’s not that simple. There are certain rituals that must be followed for his death to have some meaning. Otherwise, it won’t work. I’ve already made the neces
sary preparations, it was simply a matter of waiting for my web to bring the street mage to me.”

  I didn’t much care for the way the two of them were talking about me like I wasn’t even in the room, especially considering they were discussing my imminent demise, but for the moment there was nothing I could do about it, so I waited and listened.

  “And why were we not told the truth about your research before now?” Isogi asked.

  Enough of this! Gallow’s voice roared in my mind. We must begin the ritual! The night is waning.

  “Because I knew there would be doubt in your minds.” Garnoff said calmly, although I was sure he heard the same impatient words I did. “Even now you are wondering if I am mad. But when you see the kind of power we can call upon to further our goals, Isogi-san, you will understand why I decided on caution in revealing the truth to anyone.”

  Isogi paused for a long moment. He glanced at me, looked at Gallow, then turned back to Garnoff, his face set like stone, completely emotionless. He was a man who knew how to pick his battles. “Very well, proceed.” Garnoff turned toward the barukumin and said, “Make ready for the ritual.” Four of them emerged from the shadows and approached me. They were all hairless, shrunken metahumans, their skins fish-belly white and their eyes blind and staring. Ghouls. I fought back a shudder as I slumped against Isogi’s bodyguard, who supported me with little or no effort. He slid me to the floor and backed away as the ghouls approached. They grabbed my arms and carried me toward the center of the room, where a complex hermetic circle was painted dark red and black on the gray concrete. I glanced back to where Trouble stood, all but forgotten by Garnoff and Isogi.

  As they placed me in the center of the circle, I realized that only some of the lines and symbols were drawn in paint. The rest were drawn in dried blood. The smell of it was strong near the floor, dusty and metallic.

  I lay on my back, my arms and legs splayed out, looking up at the corpse dangling above me, only an arm’s length away. The concrete was cold against my back, even through my coat, but I could feel a strange warmth emanating from the physical shell that housed the spirit called Gallow. It radiated off it like waves, and I was chilled inside even as the warmth seemed to caress my face.

  The circle is complete, Gallow’s voice whispered. Once, I was nothing more than a slave, a tool of your anger and vengeance. Now, I will draw power from your destruction, enslaving your spirit to me. Your blood will break the binding that holds me and I will grow strong, stronger than ever before. I will have many feasts like the one you gave me that first night, father.

  I shuddered and wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. My gaze was held in horrified fascination by the hypnotic swaying of the body, the sound of Gallow’s voice. My astral senses opened up and I could see a ghostly flicker of flames around the hanging body.

  I enjoyed killing them so much, Gallow’s astral voice whispered to me. Like you did. The sweet rush of power and pleasure as they burned, as they screamed for mercy. There is no greater thing in this world. Garnoff understands that. In fact, if it were not for him, I would not exist. If he did not kill Jason Vale, you would never have summoned me. If he did not hear my call, you would not be here now. My two “parents, ” together at last. Now one must kill the other for me to feed. The phantom flames burned brighter in anticipation.

  Garnoff came and knelt beside me. He had exchanged his overcoat for a black robe, the edges stitched with red runes and symbols. He held a small bronze bowl, which he set down beside me.

  “I have you to thank.” he said in a low voice, pitched so only I could hear. “If you hadn’t been so defiant, if you had accepted my offer to free you from the sewer you lived in, you would never have created a spirit as magnificent as this, and I would never have found my destiny.” He raised Talonclaw in his right hand, the edge gleaming in the torch light, the whole of it shimmering with dormant magical power. The blade flashed as Garnoff used it to cut through my shirt.

  He bared my chest and dipped two fingers into the bowl, stirring them around slightly. I shivered from the cold shock as Garnoff drew magical symbols on my skin in red ochre paint.

  “The drugs you’ve been given will dull the pain somewhat.” he said conversationally as he put the finishing touches on the design. “But not too much. Acertain amount of pain is necessary for the ritual to be successful. I’m sure you understand.”

  Life is pain, Gallow echoed like a mantra. Pain is life. Garnoff took the bowl away and wiped his hands clean on a cloth. The ghouls and other twisted metahumans of the barukumin spread out to form a ring around the circle, just outside the flickering torches. Trouble stood outside the circle and looked on the whole scene, coolly distant, detached, one hand sliding into her jacket.

  I couldn’t see Isogi or his bodyguard from where I lay. It seemed they were staying quietly out of the way. It was never a good idea to interrupt a magical ritual, and Isogi seemed to have a healthy respect for the power in the room. I sensed he was not happy with this whole arrangement, but that he also wasn’t going to interfere with Garnoff. I was on my own.

  Garnoff stepped into the circle and held Talonclaw in both hands, the blade pointing upward.

  “Let the ritual begin.” he said. “The time of power has come. We gather here on Samhain Night, when the barriers between this world and the others are at their thinnest, when the spirits of the dead draw close to the land of the living, to offer a sacrifice to the Otherworld and to break the bonds of earthly flesh holding immortal spirit, to loose the fire of power.”

  The barukumin began a low chant, soft, guttural, in no language I knew, as Garnoff began to slowly walk around the circle, counterclockwise.

  “I cast this circle to guard us from all forces abroad on this Samhain Night. I seal this circle against all forces and powers that may seek to disrupt our rite. I empower this circle with the power of Air and Earth, the Waters of the Deep, and the power of Fire Eternal. I draw down the power of the comet, the omen of power in the night sky, the sign of the coming times. Let the circle remain unbroken until the rite is done.”

  The torchlight took on a greenish cast as the hermetic circle surrounded us with a magical barrier, visible only to my astral sight, like a dome of translucent glass arcing overhead, its apex just above the head of the swaying corpse that housed Gallow.

  I flinched as the cold edge of my mageblade touched my neck. The chanting grew faster, and the barukumin began to shuffle slowly around the outer edge of the circle.

  “Blood is life.” Garnoff intoned. “By the power of blood I create and give new life. By the power of blood, I break the bonds of mortal flesh and liberate immortal spirit. I call on Gallow to take this offering and grow strong, to escape his prison of flesh and take up his true power and place in the world of the living.”

  As all gods slay the generation before them, so will I grow strong on the life of my creator, the spirit responded in its astral voice. The chanting grew louder. The dancing grew faster, more frantic and chaotic. It was nearing a peak. Garnoff raised Talonclaw in one hand. My eyes rolled back in my head a bit as I concentrated with all my willpower. This needed to be timed exactly right.

  “With this blade, forged by his hand, I liberate this life. To the spirit, forged by his will, I offer this life.”

  He looked down at me with cold, dead eyes and shook his head. “Poor boy. Too bad you weren’t a bit more clever.”

  The barukumin and Gallow seemed to cry out as one, and Garnoff brought the blade down toward my chest with both hands.

  There was a blue spark as the mageblade struck an invisible wall only centimeters away from my bare skin. With a burst of speed I grabbed Garnoff's outstretched wrist, pulled him off balance and punched him square in the face.

  “Funny.” I said, “I was thinking the same thing about you.” I keyed open a comm channel on my headware and subvocalized over it, praying they’d gotten the signal as planned.

  “Now.” was all I said.

  The barukum
in, who stood in shock as Garnoff reeled from the punch, recovered their wits and started to move toward me. That’s when an explosion shook the room as a small, powerful charge blew out the protective barrier covering the entrance, sending clouds of concrete dust and fragments flying everywhere. A shotgun blast split the air, sending one of the twisted ghouls sliding down the wall, leaving a bloody trail behind.

  “Talon, stay down!” Boom yelled as he, Hammer, and Sloane burst into the room, guns blazing. Along with them came a pair of Sikorsky skimmer-drones that hummed and buzzed through the air like giant mechanical insects, controlled remotely by Val. Weapons and sensors on swivel-mounts attached to their undersides started tracking the barukumin. Gunfire stitched along the walls in lines of fire and dust, sending Garnoff’s helpers scattering or cutting them down where they stood, bright sprays of blood spattering the walls.

  I started to get to my feet just as Garnoff was doing the same. Before he could rise, I tackled him, sending us both sprawling to the floor. I grabbed his wrist as he tried to bring the dagger around to stab me. He was stronger than he looked, and his face was a twisted mask of anger and rage. I tried to keep him pinned long enough to disable him, but he struggled like a trapped animal and managed to throw me to the side. I landed hard on the concrete floor, knocking the wind out of me as Garnoff scrambled to his feet.

  “You, you, street garbage!” he shouted. “I’ll kill you!” He raised Talonclaw in one hand to lunge at me when a gunshot caught him in the wrist.

  “Wrong again, asshole.” Trouble said, holding her smoking Predator. I threw her a grateful glance as she gave an incoming ghoul a sharp kick that sent it stumbling backward.

  Garnoff howled in pain and dropped Talonclaw as blood splashed over the front of his robe. He lashed out with his other hand, fingers curled like claws, and Trouble was sent flying, like she’d been swatted by a giant’s fist. Her second shot went wide, ricocheting off the floor. He raised one hand, and the dome of light around the circle became visible in the physical world as a translucent barrier, blocking all other attacks from the outside, sealing the two of us in together.