“I didn’t die,” she answered. “I should have, but I didn’t. I thought I was giving my life for yours, but I didn’t die.”
“Yeah, well, it was stupid,” Jack growled, “and next time you won’t be so lucky, so make sure there isn’t a next time. I’m not going to have you die for my sorry ass. You’re the one without sin. You’re the one who is worthy of this life.” She opened her mouth to reply, but he stopped her with a kiss. It had to be a short one. They were running out of time.
Despite his urgency, he felt her love in the softness of her lips. It made him falter and the quick kiss turned into a long one. But then a sound of rock falling came from ahead of them and the moment passed. “Come on,” he said and then started running. As he ran down the hall and into the dim and frightening grotto where the ceiling was coming apart by the second, he spoke over his shoulder: “You go after Gregory. If he’s like St. Peter, he won’t be able to hurt you. I’ll take on Robert. He’s out of power and only has the spear as a weapon. We can do this, Cyn. This can be the end!”
“I think it will be,” she said, but without his enthusiasm.
He stopped and looked into her china-blue eyes. “What is it?” Her answer surprised him.
“I’m afraid for you. Your soul is so dark. I saw it, Jack. When St. Peter had you transfixed by his light. I saw your soul and it was a sad and pitiful, shriveled-up thing. I can’t have that be me.”
“What are you saying?”
She gave a little shrug and kept her eyes averted. “You’re going to want to join souls. You’re going to want use some of my strength but I-I can’t do that.”
“Just one more time, Cyn,” he insisted. He could feel his cousin not far ahead of them. The going was slow in this part of the sub-basement. The water poured away down deep cracks and what looked like endless crevices. Each had crumbling edges and had to be leapt over. Then they came to a maze of tombs and crisscrossing halls that were made all the more confusing by the darkness and the fact that in many places the ceiling had caved in.
When she didn’t say anything, Jack whispered: “If he’s figured out how to use that spear even a little, then we’re going to need all the magic we can get on our side. This will be the last time, I swear.”
“It’ll never be one more time with you, Jack. Maybe one day you’ll face the fact that you’re a junky. You’re hooked on power.”
He stepped back, nudging against a dusty tomb and gave her a hard look, feeling the quick burn of resentment in his wasted chest. He wanted to tell her off for being so presumptuous. After all it had been Cyn who had brought up the entire concept of him taking her power; he hadn’t said a word.
But it was in the back of your head, Jack, a voice within him spoke. The idea has been lurking there all along. It’s why you keep her near. It’s not because of her fighting skills. It’s because you can always take what you need when you need it.
The word “take” had an ugly sound to it. It was too much like “steal” which was what necromancers did. The word cooled his anger.
“And you’re okay with one of us dying?” he asked. “I doubt Gregory was wrong.”
“No, I’m not afraid. There are no demons here,” she answered. “If one of us dies, it’ll be a natural death. Our souls will be safe. But let’s make it Robert who has to worry about his soul. What do you think?” Somehow, in spite of the miserable predicament they were in, she was able to smirk at him just as she had the first moment she had met him, grubby and nervous in the Waldorf Hotel, a lifetime before.
Jack grabbed her in an embrace, squeezing her hard into his chest. He didn’t want her to see the sudden fear that swept him. Her soul would be fine. She had been given a clean bill of health by no less than St. Peter, while Jack had a shriveled-up little thing for a soul.
“We’ll make it Robert,” he said and then forced a smile on his face before giving her another quick kiss.
Covered by a sudden weight of depression, he couldn’t think of anything inspiring to say and so, with his Holy sword held out in front of him, he plunged deeper into the Vatican Grotto, following the pair of tracks that meandered through the new layer of dust and the mounds of debris. He followed after, feeling once again as though his steps had been chosen for him. This time it was almost literal; he was placing his feet in the prints left by his cousin.
Just as he knew they would, they caught up to Robert and Gregory who were trying to pull huge blocks of rock away from a stairwell exit and neither suspected that their enemies were near.
It would be their only opportunity and Jack tried his best to get close before he was noticed, but after three overly-pronounced and “sneaky” steps, his foot struck a piece of tile which went skittering away. Robert spun to face them; however, before he was halfway turned, Cyn fired her pistol only to be disappointed once more as the bullet struck the magical barrier around him.
Despite being protected, Robert jumped in surprise. The look of shock stayed on his face for only a few seconds before it was replaced by one of rage. “St. Peter!” he screamed. “Where are you? You will listen to me! Get over here right this sec…”
“Save your breath, Robert,” Jack said, easing closer. “I killed him. Don’t look so surprised. Haven’t I defeated everything you’ve sent my way? The sorcerer, the necromancer, even the Mother. I have grown stronger and all you’ve done is kill innocent beings. Why don’t you give up and make it easy on yourself? We can get you a solitary jail cell far from any cemeteries or corpses. You’ll be safe and we’ll be safe. Don’t you see that this has gone too far? Weren’t you the one who said that this whole thing was a mistake that got out of hand?”
“That was then, Jack. Now, there are too many evil things out there gunning for me. I can’t just retire. And besides, I’m not exactly afraid of you. You have nothing in the tank and Cyn is, well she’s a born-again necromancer and there’s nothing more sad than that. So, I don’t think I’ll be accepting your offer of a jail cell, thank you. Gregory, clear that door while I take care of these two.”
Without warning, he turned the spear’s point toward Jack. From its tip a blast of what looked like concentrated air shot out. It was strange to see the air wobble as the force raced at Jack. He tried to dive to the side, but was caught in the left leg and spun like a frisbee.
He landed on the top of a crypt twenty feet away, shaken but not exactly hurt. With a grunt, he leapt down just as Robert pointed the spear in Cyn’s direction. She tried to duck away, but was too slow and was caught full on and sent flying. When she landed in a heap, there was an ugly sound of bone striking rock and she remained motionless.
Seeing her lying there caused Jack to hesitate but only for a second, and then with a curse on his lips, he charged. As expected Robert pivoted and pointed his spear. Without hesitation, Jack dove to the side, rolling across the tile floor in a neat ball. Something passed near him and there was a crash behind him, and then there came the sound of rock falling.
Part of the ceiling had come crashing down, filling the darkened grotto with clouds of dust, making it that much harder to see. Jack could only pinpoint Robert by the gleam from the silver tip of his spear, which tracked Jack mercilessly as he dodged here and there, leaping away time and again as Robert sent blasts his way with excellent aim.
It was only after he had been struck a third partial blow, which left him clutching his side, that Jack realized that he would never be able to get close to his cousin as long as held a sword that glowed like a torch. He sheathed it and the gloom of the grotto became almost full on dark.
“What are you doing, Jack?” Robert asked. Where a second before, he had been grinning and confident as he fired his blasts, now he spun right and left in jerky moves. “Stop playing, Jack. Let’s finish this.”
Jack kept silent and still, hiding in the dark, hoping that his cousin would come closer so that he could spring out and strike him down. Robert refused to be drawn away; he kept to the middle of the hall between the low alcoves.
“Let me tell you how this is going to end,” Robert said, his voice echoing in the dark. “Gregory is going to clear that door in a few minutes and then on my way out I’m going to use this spear to drop the roof on you and Cyn. Or we can fulfill Greg’s prophecy. You come out of hiding and I’ll kill just you. I’ll leave Cyn out of this. I promise.”
With great difficulty, Jack bit back another snarling curse. Robert had him over a barrel. Jack was stuck. He couldn’t get close to his cousin to kill him and waiting only played into Robert’s hands. It seemed he had only two choices: a desperate and useless charge across thirty feet of open space, or he could pray that Robert would actually keep his promise and not hurt Cyn anymore that she had been.
It wasn’t much of a choice. Robert could not be trusted. “Please, God,” Jack whispered and then jumped up from behind the tomb of some long dead pope and raced at his cousin. He should have been killed right then. Robert should have heard the sound of his boots kicking stone and tile. Robert should have triggered his spear; however, at that exact moment Cyn moaned and stirred.
“Jack?” she asked, her voice sounding ghostly in the dark as if she was only a spirit.
Robert spun to point the Lance at her, and that little move allowed Jack just enough time to get in close. He swept the Holy sword from its golden sheath and its light bathed the room in a fantastic blue-white glow and showed Jack that he had a perfect shot at ending the fight once and for all. Robert had jerked in surprise at the sudden light and seemed frozen in place by the fierce onslaught.
With a cry, Jack drove the sword down in a killing stroke, knowing that there was no way his cousin would be able to get the Lance around in time to block it.
And yet, astonishingly, he did.
Metal clanged on metal and sparks flew. Jack blinked in surprise. Robert had moved faster than his eye could follow. It had been magical, but the magic hadn’t come from Robert. Feeling dread crawl into his gut that he was once again in way over his head, Jack attacked again, driving his sword under the spear.
Robert had the Lance held in an uncertain grip as if he was just as perplexed as Jack, and the sword thrust should have pierced Robert’s heart—but again his cousin managed to twist the spear sending the sword point off to the side.
“Huh,” Robert grunted, marveling at the spear. Jack used his distraction to attack again and again in a swirl of flashing metal. Never in his life had his strokes been so exact, his lunges so perfect. The Holy sword threw sparks and clanged metal on metal and the blade never got within an inch of Robert’s skin.
After half a minute, he broke off and the two stood panting with only two feet separating them. “It’s the spear,” Robert said. He grinned like a child right into Jack’s face as if Jack should be just as excited. “When the Romans went to break Christ’s legs, they saw that he was already dead. Not believing it, one centurion, pierced Jesus’ side with this spear and what came out?”
“Blood and water,” Jack answered. “But it wasn’t, really.”
Robert’s grin grew so that the wicked thing went from ear to ear. “No it wasn’t. It was a part of him, perhaps a part of his immortality. Nothing could have harmed the Son of God, unless he allowed it. And he gave it up so he could give up his life. And who knew that anyone would stab his lifeless body? And who knew what would happen to the spear? Who knew that it would make whoever possesses it invincible?”
If Jack had known, he would never have come to Rome, but now he was there and only two feet from his death and yet something Robert had said triggered a thought.
“Possesses?” That suggested that its owner was fluid in nature. Immediately, Jack dropped his sword and latched onto the lance with both hands. He was so quick that he almost yanked it away from Robert in the first second. Grimly, he held on and the two, very much equal in size, tussled in the dark until Jack started to get the upper hand.
In desperation, Robert started triggering the power of the spear, sending out blasts at random. The ceiling rained rock and marble, walls crumbled and two support columns collapsed from direct hits. Above them the weight of the basilica pressing down, caused the ceiling to let out a loud groan. It was the only indication that all hell was about to break loose.
Jack let go of the spear and threw himself to the side, just as the ceiling came down. He rolled and rolled until he rammed up against a tomb and then he crawled up into its protective alcove until the ground stopped shaking. He found himself in near total darkness; the only light came straining through a wall of rock. It was meager and yet it drew him. He wobbled across an uneven ground until he could peer through a narrow opening the size of his fist.
“Cyn?” he whispered into the opening, his heart caught up in his throat, afraid that she was the death in Gregory’s prediction.
“Jack?” she answered, matching his whisper. He almost collapsed in relief. He clutched the wall to hold himself up as she asked: “Where are you?”
He didn’t know the answer to that. He felt as though he was in an alternant universe peering through a portal into the world…as if he was in hell looking through the gate. “Am I dead?” he whispered, touching himself, wondering what it felt like to be dead.
Cyn was bathed in a pale blue light—the moon, Jack thought. The ceiling on the other side of the wall of stone was completely gone and the moon shone down bright enough to cast shadows and one fell across her as she was trying to climb the pile of rocks toward him. It was Robert. His spear glinted as he used it as a club and knocked her legs out from beneath her. With a cry, she fell, rolling to the base of the mound.
“Leave her alone!” Jack thundered. “She can’t hurt you, so just leave her out of this.”
“She may not be able to hurt me, but she can help me,” Robert answered. “I am drained and she is brimming with energy. I love it.” He waved a hand just inches over her as she tried to sit up.
“Maybe you can love this,” she replied. She had Vance’s Beretta in her hand and without hesitation, shoved it up into his crotch and pulled the trigger. The blast echoed as did Robert’s laughter.
“I’m invincible, Cyn darling. And pretty soon, I’ll be all-powerful and you will help me with that, by giving me that precious soul of yours.”
“Stop!” Jack screamed. “Take mine instead.”
This had Robert crying with laughter. “Your soul? You don’t have a soul. Instead of a soul, you have some sort of jigsaw puzzle. Pieces of this and that, of people you probably don’t even know. There’s so much ugliness inside of you that even I don’t want any part of. But that doesn’t mean I won’t kill you. Give me a moment and after I take care of Cyn, I’ll show you what true power looks like.”
There was a sound of velcro tearing and then Cyn said: “You’ll do no such thing.” She had the Beretta in hand and had finally found a use for it—her armored vest was open and she had the gun pointed directly into her heart.
Jack went cold. “Cyn,” he whispered. “Don’t, please.”
“What choice do I have?” she asked, through sudden tears. “My soul is doomed. If he kills me, my soul will go the Mother as payment for the spells he wields. That’s how it works, right?”
Robert held up his hands, one empty, the other holding the spear. “Yes, but if you kill yourself, you’ll be going to hell anyway. You see? At least this way someone gains from this unfortunate turn of events.”
“Unfortunate?” she asked in harsh whisper. “That’s what you call killing thousands of innocent people? Unfortunate?”
He sneered down a her. “It is what it is. Now go ahead and pull the trigger if you have the guts to damn yourself for all eternity. Which I doubt you will.” He lifted the butt of the spear, looking to ram down ion her head.
“If it means stopping you, I will.” Her face was rigid, held in determined, angry lines. Only a single tear belied her anguish. She turned away from Robert and looked toward the wall of rock, her eyes searching for Jack, hidden away in his little portal.
Jack was in a perfect state of shock. He was beyond emotion. He was broken. He should have been crying and begging for her not to pull the trigger, only he knew that wouldn’t save her. She was lost and now he was as well. Cyn was his anchor and now that she was on the verge of death, he felt disconnected from his body as if he was already a wandering spirit. It took all of his concentration just to form the words: “I will.”
“I love you,” she said and she too seemed to be losing her emotions. The words were hollow and hung, lifeless in the air. They were just words. She was almost gone.
He wanted to answer her. He desperately wanted to express the fullness of his love, but that would take hours and would never be contained in the mere words: I love you. He wanted to say something, anything but all that came out was her name.
“Cyn,” he said in a whisper. As the word left his mouth, Robert desperately tried to bash her head with the blunt part of the spear in order to keep her from killing herself so that he could kill her his way. So that he could gain and grow.
He was too slow. She pulled the trigger, bucked from the violence and the shock as the bullet tore out her heart, and then she fell back, her eyes blank, her soul doomed.
Chapter 36
Rome, Italy
Jack Dreyden
The echoes seemed to go on and on, rattling the walls of the grotto and shaking Jack to the core of his being. “Robert,” Jack said, when the ruinous sound had died away. “I think you had better run far away. I think you better run and you had better keep on running.”
“She brought it on herself,” Robert answered. “Just like you brought this on yourself.” He pointed his spear at the wall and there were crashes and explosions and all light disappeared, and the air was filled with choking dust.
The Edge of Temptation: Gods of the Undead 2 A Post-Apocalyptic Epic Page 36
