by Ursula Bauer
The face staring back at him in the mirror had dark eyes glittering with menace, reminding him of who he really was. When they first recruited him into the order, he’d been warned of the sacrifices required, of the rigors of the game. He believed in the sanctity of the Covenant, he knew he needed to protect it and he knew his past made him more able to do that than some of the others. Still, he did not like the side effects. An image of Skathi’s tortured face appeared before his eyes, and he blinked hard to clear his mind. There was still work to do tonight, but now, he needed a break.
He stalked into his front parlor and went straight for a bottle of Grappa. Whiskey was far too fine to waste on such a low occasion. He wanted to stop feeling, to burn away the last of his resistance, not savor this moment of pure poison.
Bast ceased her pacing, but wisely waited until he’d taken his first drink before speaking. “Did you get us answers, Salazar?”
“I called Preacher. We need to keep the mortal woman alive. Seth was correct, if you can imagine that. Elsa was compromised. She, along with another mystic, blocked the most important part of the vision.” He hit the Grappa again and shivered as the hot, sour liquid burned through him. “Ian was in a psychic rut because he was the only one powerful enough to sense artifice at work. The war resumes if the mortal dies after touching the artifact, not because of touching it. Only she can prevent the negative convergence of destiny.”
The air before him shimmered and Seth appeared. This time he dispensed with the mortal form, and adopted the traditional head of the abomination. “I hope the Wardens plan to address this travesty.”
Bast hissed quietly at him, drawing a laugh from the chaotic deity.
Seth continued, undaunted. “Elsa is the lead mystic of the Venice cell. Her compromise means the entire cell and any visions they’ve interpreted are suspect.”
Salazar shrugged and filled his glass again. “It’s a good thing the Wardens maintain containment with the cells. We’ve discovered the truth early on.”
“And this mage, what have you learned of him?”
Seth was impossible to read in this form, but Salazar detected nervousness in the God’s rigid body posture and false accusatory tone. “The mage has nothing to do with the compromise of the mystics. The artifacts were stolen by thieves, and sold to different individuals. While I believe they were intended for some grand purpose, I have not confirmed it. Elsa, and whomever she works for, exploited the moment to incite chaos and threaten the line.”
Seth’s form appeared to relax. Salazar made a mental note to follow up on the God’s involvement down the road.
Bast stepped in front of the other God and trapped Salazar by the small bar. “Why did it take so long to learn this information? Do we need to call in a Tribunal interrogator?”
Salazar gave her a cold, hard stare that made her twitch. “Elsa is holding out longer than expected.” He took a slow drink this time, closed his eyes for a moment and collected himself. Bast was on his side, he reminded himself. They wanted the same thing. “She hasn’t given up the name of who turned her. She only confessed to blocking and warping the vision to keep us tied up and foment chaos, and she admitted to releasing Skathi the Enchanter from her prison. We have no idea what other visions she twisted, or what the real outcome of this convergence will be once the mortal is safe.”
Unfortunate, for all of them. Nothing could put the Covenant in more jeopardy. Still, he had to remain focused on the matter at hand. There would be time enough for the bigger picture.
Seth appeared satisfied with the information. “And what did you gather from your pet mystic, Ian?”
“Ian is the only one in the clear. He’s been sedated.” Salazar held back his rage, put up the now empty bottle of Grappa, and stepped around the two Gods. “There’s still more to learn. I’ll let you know once the job is done.”
“Make it quick.” Bast’s cold, silky voice curled around him like a deadly viper. “I have damage control to run back at the Tribunal. I can only hold them off for so long. And I don’t need to remind either of you what will happen if we don’t provide a satisfactory conclusion.”
“We know to keep the mortal female alive,” Seth said, his sonorous voice echoing in the small parlor. “That means we’ve stopped the convergence. You should be able to do something with that, Bastet.”
Her eyes narrowed dangerously, burning bright with a hot, golden fire. “I’ve near exhausted the limits of my skills between Gideon going rogue, and the likes of you two teaming up with him. This is a very volatile situation. When the Council of Wardens is at risk, the entire Covenant is suspect. Bring me something soon, Ramon, or I can’t promise either of you any protection.”
Salazar smiled. There was never protection on rogue ops, and certainly not in situations of compromise. Exposure came with the territory. “Give me another hour. I’ll get what we need.”
———
“Meg! No!” He made a critical tactical error by turning his back on the Keeper. The creature took him down and Gideon watched helplessly as Meg collapsed in Russell’s arms.
He couldn’t shift to mist with the Keeper so close. The magic worked at odds. Instead, he shifted to panther and slashed his way out of the hold. The Keeper didn’t expect the change and it gave Gideon the few seconds he needed. He bounded after Russell and made it to the elevator hall just as the doors closed. Another squad of Ash demons filtered out of a side room, blocking his access. Rage misted before his eyes, turning his world to red and boiling his blood over the edge. He turned back to human form and let fury take hold. Nothing would stand between him and Meg. Nothing. He would get her back. He wouldn’t be too late this time.
———
Lucas Preacher walked around the demon corpse that had crashed out the fourth floor window, and now lay on the cement in a broken heap. He knew their kind. It wouldn’t stay broken like that for long. A quick slice with his axe turned it to dust and he moved on, entering the Russell Clinic through the front door. A tactical team of local shadow cops led by Matt Reichart were about to descend upon the scene, which should really get the party going. He shifted to mist and flowed through the elevator shaft, materializing in the thick of a heated, protracted battle. At the center was Gideon Sinclair, fighting in a state of maddened abandon. There were at least twenty Ash demons trying to bring him down, and each one finding death at his hands.
Lucas smiled. Just like old times. He summoned his axes again, the twin blades that were his oldest and only friends, and joined the mix. He was glad he didn’t have to kill Gideon. Killing demons was far more productive. And enjoyable.
He cut a wide swath through the rear flank before they had a chance to realize what was happening. “Where’s the woman?” he screamed over the din.
“Are you here to kill me or to help me?” Gideon’s deep voice rasped through the air as he wasted another demon.
Preacher slew two more and a path opened clear to the other immortal champion. There was a momentary lull as more forces amassed at the end of the hall. “I’m here to help. The vision was wrong. We need the woman alive.”
“Then get out of my way,” Gideon growled and shifted into mist.
In the blink of an eye the mist slipped past him and into the elevator shaft. Lucas found himself facing the remaining armada of Ash demons. There were at least twenty left in condition to fight. Just the kind of odds he liked. He spun his blades and went back to the job he loved.
———
Meg roused from the blackness and found herself laid out on an old hospital gurney. She tried to move her hands as the world came into focus and found them restrained by thick leather cuffs latched to the side rails.
“Good, you’re awake. You can share this wondrous moment with me Meg. Of all people, I know you’ll appreciate it.”
She blinked hard and stared at the man she thought she knew. It was Bill Russell, the whole time, he was the mage. And he was barking mad to boot. He’d traded in his chinos and polo sh
irt for a funky white robe replete with gold embroidered symbols. He was leering over her as he prepped her arm for an IV line.
The recent past came back to her in a sudden rush that burned inside of her skull. She struggled at her bonds, breaking his concentration. “Let me go, Bill. You don’t want to do this.” Whatever this was.
She lifted her head and looked around. They were in a damp basement with painted gold walls and enough candles to set the whole city ablaze. Off to her left stood a small figure swathed head to toe in bandages. “What the—”
“As I told you earlier, I most certainly want this, Meg. My whole life has been spent in preparation for this moment.” He picked the needle up from the floor and checked again for a vein. “I see you’ve noticed Angel. She’s waited many years for this moment too. The Buckle of Isis was meant for me you know. I was going to use it to create a new soul for Angel. The soul would bring life to her body again, and the healing powers would allow me to cure her disease.”
Meg felt sick. “Bill, Angel’s dead.”
“Yes. I was too aggressive with the Melaniprin. I brought about her death. But now I can fix it, Meg. I can fix everything.”
“You can’t bring her back.”
He stopped for a moment and looked at her like she was the crazy one. His blue eyes were lit with insanity, fevered and intense.
“Her original spirit is gone, yes, and that is something I can’t retrieve. But I’ve preserved her body, as the ancient rites dictate. The Egyptians were so much more evolved in their understanding of life, and death. So much more advanced in integrative approaches to treating disease.”
Her skin pricked as the needle drove home. He connected in tubing, and she realized that it didn’t lead to an IV bag. The tubing was open ended. He capped it off and looked behind her to someone standing to her rear. She could make out a number of shadows. More demons she expected. Her blood began to tingle and her head pound. Of all the times to have the headaches! She needed to think, to get out of here.
Jack’s words drifted to her. Focus on the pendant. Direct your energies there, and it will help.
Despite every instinct to do otherwise, Meg closed her eyes, and forced herself to relax.
“There, that’s better,” Bill cooed. “You of all people understand sacrifice. Your blood is filled with the soul creating power of Isis. Just as the old rites say, it will help me mix the clay and create the new soul for Angel. And your power will pass to me. I’ll be able to heal all the children. No one will ever suffer the loss to cancer again. It’s a miracle, Meg. And you’re part of the wonder.”
Yep. Barking mad. How had she overlooked this before? Had she been that absorbed in her work that she missed the signs of mania? Or was he just that good at hiding his true self? Then she remembered she’d thought similar things about using the healing power, had similar plans. She went cold all over. Meg bit her lip, tasting her own blood, summoning focus, blocking out the impassioned speech of the madman. Someone else spoke. A woman. Lucy. Of course. She was the one who sent the package back. Half the damned office was insane.
Focus. Shift the pain. She tuned in to the cool feel of smooth stone and silver to the exclusion of all else. The world around her felt suddenly very hot. Though her eyes were closed, she saw all around her clearly, as if she looked down on the scene from above herself. Bill fussed over some kind of altar on an old operating table. Lucy was hanging a bag of heparin. That would keep Meg’s blood thin as they siphoned it into a bucket of dry clay dust. Two Keepers and a host of demons and zombies fidgeted at the edges of the room. The floor had all kinds of markings, some she recognized as hieroglyphics, others that made no sense. She noticed she had similar markings inscribed on her forehead and hands. And there was something else, far more disturbing, and terrifying. Standing beside the mummified body of Angel Russell there was a ghostly apparition of a hollow-eyed, bald little girl in a hospital gown.
The ghostly image looked upward, as if she realized Meg’s consciousness drifted there. It was Angel Russell, as she’d looked just before she died. Her spirit lingered. She was hit with the sudden realization that the unfortunate child’s soul was trapped. Whatever crazy magic Bill had summoned by mummifying his daughter after her death bound the soul to the earth. Bill had to know the old spirit remained. If he was sending in a new soul, what would become of the old?
Tears slid down the apparition’s pale, sunken cheeks. Her thin lips trembled then began to move, as if she was speaking. The words resounded inside Meg’s head in a sorrowful, tortured voice.
“Help me, Dr. Meg. Set me free.”
A blinding white light lit the back of her eyes, and she fell back into her body. The spirit’s voice had touched her somehow, triggering more of the magical energy. Her entire body shook from tremors, and her blood heated to an unbearable temperature. Knowledge erupted inside of her. Bill had bartered the old soul to gain enough power to hold his daughter’s body in stasis until a new one could be found. Until he himself had enough power to manifest a transfer, and unlock the secrets of resurrection. And immortality.
Strength surged through her limbs as the magical power grew. She had to get to that child. Bill had damned the soul that remained. No wonder he needed a new one. Bastard. He’d condemned his daughter to hell.
Meg stopped pulling at the restraints and began to twist her hands upwards, trying to slide them through the cuffs. The leather abraded and cut at her skin, but as fast as it cut, new skin formed. All she needed to do was touch Angel and the spell would do the rest. She had to save that child’s soul. And she had to stop Bill. Then she and Gideon could be free.
———
Gideon switched to panther form once he hit the long corridor in the basement. Meg’s scent filled him. Her essence drew him like a beam of light in a storm. The corridor changed to a tunnel that dead-ended in a room. He estimated this to be a few blocks from the clinic proper. His skin crawled as the waves of magic at work beyond the doors seeped through the barriers. A cold anger drove him onward as he gathered momentum. He leaped for the double doors and shifted into human form at the last minute, adding more mass to his speed. He hit them hard, breaking them asunder and crashing to the ground inside.
He rolled to his feet with the sword in one hand and the dagger in the other, and became death as he waded into the midst of hell. He dusted the first three things that tried to stop him from reaching Meg. He recognized zombies, and kicked them into candle stands, setting them ablaze. Ahead, Lucy faced him with a ritual sword held in shaking hands. Two Keepers flanked her. Beyond them, Bill knelt at an altar, crying out all manner of ear burning magical mantras. Before he could reach Meg, she got free of the bonds, sat up and ripped IV tubing from her arms.
Several more Ash demon soldiers took him on, and he lit into them with renewed fury. She was alive. He had a chance.
Lucy made a move towards Meg, but she shoved the gurney at her and knocked her down. Then Meg was on the move, headed towards the small mummy on the raised dais.
Gideon cut his way towards her, and Lucy tried to trip him. He struck her with his boot, and knocked her cold. The Ash kept coming, slowing him down from his target. Flames climbed the walls and ate at the bodies of zombies. He had to reach Meg and get her out of here. He coughed at the smoke and kept fighting, maneuvering the battle so he was closer to Meg. The Keepers were protecting Russell. Gideon could tell they ached to join the fray, but they were bound by Russell’s will. Gideon knew the mage wouldn’t stop his spell unless there was threat of bodily harm or interruption. He guessed the symbols on Meg’s head were entwined with the ritual, so even if Meg was mobile, she was still at risk. He’d need to strike at Russell. If he broke concentration, the Keepers would snap. It was risky, but a good distraction that might give him what he needed to get Meg free.
Gideon switched and moved the fight closer to Russell. As if realizing something was finally going wrong, Russell stopped the crazed chanting. He stood and stepped just beyond one o
f the Keepers. His eyes locked on Gideon and he frowned. He spoke a single word, and a deadly looking silver dagger appeared in his hand.
Gideon’s blood froze as a noxious, caustic odor burned his nostrils. The dagger Russell held was an enchanted darksoul blade, linked to the corrupt Mage. Not only was it made of the same kind of metal as his own soul blade, it was perverted with the blackest of magic, and treated with the one very rare poison that could kill him permanently: Asieraz, the Tears of the Gods. It would also put down Meg just as easily, regardless of the protection of the artifact’s magic that swirled inside of her.
Gideon slew a few more demons and the path between him and the mad doctor shortened. One of the Keepers detached and jumped in. Gideon was ready and got it in the sweet spot, bringing it down for the killing blow. Russell’s eyes narrowed and the madman turned on Meg. And the mummy.
The scene played out before him in macabre detail. Gideon watched Meg as she moved to embrace the disgusting thing in rags. Russell readied the dagger.
Gideon pushed himself to the brink, moving with the speed only Gods possessed. He laid the killing blow into the Keeper, kicked the falling corpse aside, and went for the mage. His vision narrowed to Meg and Russell, and his heart twisted until he thought it would tear itself in two. He summoned the beast inside and shifted into panther form.
The remaining Keeper tried to engage in battle but wasn’t fast enough to stop him as he turned. He easily evaded the creature, leaped through its grasp, and slammed into Russell with lethal force.
Russell crumbled beneath the attack. But as he went down, he mumbled horrible sounds and the dagger vanished. The Keeper reached them, and flung Gideon aside in a desperate attempt to protect Russell. Gideon got in only a glancing blow, but rallied easily to his feet. The Keeper snarled at Gideon, and he returned the gesture. Russell lay motionless on the floor, his skull cracked and bleeding. Meg was almost upon the mummy. The pressure on his heart let up for a moment. He needed to end this. End it now. Gideon returned to his human form and faced the last opponent. He couldn’t let anything happen to Meg, and he’d spill every last drop of his blood, and anyone else’s that got in his way, to keep her safe.
