by Brian Rella
“Frank,” Rowan said from behind him. “Take it easy.”
Frank felt heat in his cheeks and behind his eyes and realized he was inches away from Nic, his energy prickling like pins and needles through him. He looked Nic in the eye and saw he was scared. Scared of me. Dammit. Frank stepped away and dropped his head.
“I’m… Maybe you can get through to him, Rowan. I can’t do this, not right now.” Frank stepped through the passageway and headed out of the Temple.
“You all right?” Rowan asked.
“That guy—man…” Nic said.
“Talking isn’t his strongest quality. He’s got a lot on his mind and he’s had it rough. That’s not an excuse, it’s just who he is. You’re a lot alike, in some ways.”
“I’m nothing like him.”
“He likes you boys and wants to help. Problem is he’s lost his whole family to the Fallen and—”
“You serious? Did you see him? He was about to go ballistic on me!”
Rowan raised his hands. “He wouldn’t have. He’s not a bad man. He’s just…not good with people. Look, this isn’t about Frank, it’s about your brother. Your brother will be back. I know you are worried for him. But he will be back.”
Nic’s eyes narrowed, and he stomped off muttering under his breath.
“He’ll be back. You’ll see,” Rowan called after him.
Nic raised his hand and stuck up his middle finger at Rowan as he rounded the corner.
Rowan stepped out into the cold outside the entrance to the temple. Frank took the last drag of a cigarette and lit another one from the end of the one he was smoking. He inhaled deeply and sighed, brushing his long dark hair out of his eyes. He heard footsteps behind him.
“That could have gone better,” Rowan said. “What happened with Jack?”
Frank exhaled and watched the smoke drift off into the night. “He’s resisting.”
“We all did, at one point or another. Didn’t we?”
Frank shot him a sideways glance and pulled on his cigarette. “Some more than others, I suppose.”
“We all make our own peace with it. He’ll come around.”
“What if he doesn’t?”
“Then we’ll deal with it, like we always do.”
Silence passed between them for a few moments. Frank let go of the chains that held the memories he had been suppressing and felt the visceral fear and anger and sadness surfacing. Memories of his mother, father, and brother, right here at the Temple, ran at ten times normal speed through his mind, making his head thump.
His mind played a training scene, here, when he had been very young and scared of his powers. The visions had been intense at the time, so bad he’d wake up screaming in his mother’s arms, sweating through his clothes, tears streaking down his face and hers because they both knew there was nothing she or he could do about what was happening to him, and the helplessness they both felt was…was…insufferable.
He resisted, and his mother resisted for days, weeks, and his nature beat at that resistance with a baseball bat, smashing it to a million pieces until, one day, he embraced it. He understood it. Then it wasn’t so bad anymore. He enjoyed it even. But it had taken time, and support, and help—luxuries they didn’t have now. And he was asking Jack to hurry up and accept who he was not on his own timetable, but on Frank’s.
“I wonder if he has it in him,” Frank said. “I wonder if he can—”
“I can,” a small voice came from the tree-line. Jack stepped forward, holding his shoulders. Rowan and Frank glanced at him, and Frank noticed immediately a shift had occurred in Jack and it brought him hope.
“Yes, you can,” Rowan said. “We know you can, and now you do too.”
Rowan walked toward the boy and placed his hand on his shoulder to lead him inside. Jack shook his hand off and locked eyes with Frank. Rowan glanced back at Frank, shrugged, and walked inside alone.
Frank and Jack stared at each other for a long while, neither saying a word. Frank took the last drag of his cigarette and dropped it to the ground, stamping it out in the dirt.
“Guess we should head inside,” Frank said. Jack’s eyes dropped a moment, then he looked up again, and met Frank’s. Frank saw something he hadn’t seen there before. Strength. Determination. His mouth twitched with the beginnings of a smile.
“You coming?”
Jack stood there a moment longer, then he turned and strode next to Frank. They walked side by side down the corridor toward the bunks. Frank placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“You’re going to be all right, Jack,” he said. A shudder went through the boy.
“It knows. That thing…it knows I’m here,” he said. “I felt it… It almost got inside me. It almost…”
“Don’t worry, kid. We’re gonna kill the fucker. And all his friends too.”
“Will the dreams stop then?”
“I hope so, kid. I hope so…”
42
JESSIE
October 29, 2015
Grand Canyon, Arizona
In the blackness of her dreamland, the comforting thud of Nalsuu’s heartbeat echoed in Jessie’s head. She felt His veins slither around and hug her; His blood flowing through her and healing her. She nestled into His caresses and let Him fill her with Himself.
You have done it, Jessie. The Seven Powers, the Guardians of Dalkhu, are dead.
But he is not free, my King. How do I free him?
Wake, Jessie! You will see.
The ground shook beneath her and she spat dirt and grit from her mouth. Her eyes fluttered open and a crackling sound filled her ears, replacing the rhythmic heartbeat of Nalsuu. She pushed herself up from the floor and watched as the statue crumbled before her, like a giant shell, revealing the mighty Dalkhu.
He was over ten feet tall. His blackened flesh was pulled tight across his sharp skeleton. Dalkhu had the head of a wolf, his long, pointed ears pushed toward the ceiling of the cave, and a heavy mane flowed down his back. His body was humanoid, his skin leathery. He looked dead except for the red glow emanating from his large, hollow eye sockets. A leather rag hung around his pelvis, and the rest of his body was naked.
He reached down into the dirt and his clawed hand sank into the silt. He pulled a long bone from beneath the layers of sand and dirt. His eyes burned bright red and the staff rattled in his hand. Bones rose from under the gritty earth and fused together with the bone in his hand. When his staff was formed, a symbol burned into the shaft just before it curled around. The symbol was the same symbol that Jessie had seen on the map in the back of the book of Arraziel. It looked like a crooked, backward letter Z, with a solid dot centered in the bend at the top. It glowed as he gazed at it.
Jessie locked gazes with the red stars in Dalkhu’s eye sockets. She felt a paralysis drift over her. Dalkhu unhinged his jaw, and a frothy fog seeped from behind his black tongue, drifting through the air toward her.
Nalsuu stirred within Jessie. In her mind, her own presence was joined by Him, and He spoke through her in His deep, inhuman voice. “NO!” she bellowed in the voice of her King. Dalkhu winced.
“It is I who have freed you,” Jessie said in Nalsuu’s deep booming voice, “and it is I who command you.”
Arraziel stepped forward, flanking Jessie. Pasmet’s dangly beard hovered above her. Jessie’s eyes glowed with the power of Nalsuu. She drew back her lips in a snarl. “You will join us or I shall destroy you.” Jessie raised her hands at Dalkhu, the power radiating through her body and at the edge of her control. If Dalkhu did not accept, she knew he would be no more.
Dalkhu paused, seeming to consider the offer. He wheezed a throaty inhalation and retrieved his red vapor from the air, returning it to his body. He bowed his head slightly and replied in a gravelly voice, “I will join you…my King.” Dalkhu bowed his head and leaned his staff forward.
“NO! Where is it?” Jessie was startled at Nalsuu’s anger as she spoke in His voice. She thought she had done well. She though
t she had completed the task her King had demanded. But something was wrong.
“The Stone of Serr’rah. Where is it?”
What stone, my King? I have freed the Shepherd of the Soulless. I have done as you asked—
Silence! The Stone of Serr’rah is the key to my freedom. It should be in the crook of Dalkhu’s staff. Find it! Find it NOW!
“All of you, find the Stone, now!”
Dalkhu angled his staff toward Jessie, motioning her to stop.
“What is it?”
Dalkhu spoke, his voice a guttural growl. “The Stone of Serr’rah has been lost near the Vortex. I know where it is.”
Nalsuu’s voice thundered from Jessie again. “You will lead us to the stone.”
Dalkhu dipped his snout toward Jessie. “I shall lead you there,” he growled at her.
He stepped slowly past Jessie. Nalsuu withdrew Himself from the fore of her mind and she swooned as her own consciousness came back in control. Arraziel placed her on his shoulders and followed Dalkhu, who lumbered in broad strides across the enormous cavern to the entrance where they had come in. He glanced back at his tomb, and his eyes flashed.
On her champion’s shoulder, Jessie followed. A crooked smile curled up her cheek and her eyes narrowed.
We will find the Stone of Serr’rah, my King, and you will be free.
I know you will, my princess.
Dalkhu led them forward and Nalsuu’s demon lieutenants filed behind him. He led them out of the tomb and toward the waiting world. “Put me down,” she commanded Arraziel. He let her down, and she fell in step next to the army of Fallen, their footsteps echoing softly off the cavernous walls.
43
FRANK
October 29, 2015
Hudson Highlands, New York
The flurries stopped, the clouds began to part, and an orange moon, full and bright, illuminated the grounds in front of the Temple where Jack and Frank had been practicing spells.
Frank was impressed at how quickly the boy had progressed in such a short time. He had easily cast several spells with just a few pointers from Frank, and they had moved on to defense now.
“Siq’estros Fa’!” Jack shouted, and a spiraling shield of energy formed in front of him, blocking the ball of blue fire Frank had sent hurtling at him. It impacted on the surface of the shield, dissipating in the air.
Jack smiled. His mood had lightened and he was focused on his training. Good to see you smile, kid.
“Excellent, Jack. Let’s work on your weapon,” Frank said.
“What weapon?” Jack asked.
“The one you are about to choose.”
“How do I choose?”
“Close your eyes and focus. Imagine shutting out the rest of the world, and go deep inside yourself. Every Watcher’s energy is unique and has its own vibration. Find yours. Feel your unique energy pulsing through you.”
Jack did as instructed and immediately the area around him became luminescent with his powder-blue energy. He looked like a blue sun against the backdrop of the bare trees behind him.
“Good. Now in your mind think of your power as an extension of yourself. Think of your energy stretching from your center, out through your arms, and into your hands.”
The energy around Jack rippled and warbled, moving over his skin and gathering at his hands.
“Now focus on that energy. What do you see?”
Jack squeezed his closed eyes and furrowed his brow. In his mind’s eye, he saw them form, like extensions of his body. “I see swords, one in each hand.”
Frank grinned. “Now repeat these sounds: Es’ nahfth’ fal!”
Jack repeated the phrase and from each of Jack’s hands spikes of blue energy shot into the air in front of him and formed two short swords, one in each hand. Jack opened his eyes and gazed at his hands.
“Holy shit,” he said.
“Holy shit,” Frank said, a smile curling up the side of this face. “Now,” he continued, opening his stance and placing his hands on top of each other. “Es’ nahfth’ fal!” Frank’s katana formed between his hands. “Defend yourself.”
Frank lunged at Jack, half speed. Jack looked surprised for a nanosecond before blocking Frank’s attack with his left sword and finishing in a striking stance. Frank easily spun and knocked away the right-hand sword Jack had swung at him. In a flash, his katana blade was at Jack’s throat.
“Good, but not good enough,” Frank said. “You lose your head, you’re dead. Again!”
Frank attacked again and again, each time increasing the speed and power of his strikes. He caught the boy off guard several times, and then to his amazement and without instruction, Jack started adapting. After a while, he found it harder and harder to find an opening.
He’s a natural.
Frank spun and recoiled, ready to strike. As he came out of his spin, a short sword was slicing through the air at him. He barely had time to adjust and block the sword before a second came from the other direction going for his head. Suddenly Frank was on the defensive.
Impressive.
Regaining his composure, Frank unleashed himself and let loose with a multi-strike move that sent Jack on his heels and finally on his back. Frank hovered his blade above the boy, his eyes steely. To his surprise, Jack didn’t look frightened. He looked angry.
Frank withdrew his blade and offered his hand. “That was good,” he said, pulling the boy to his feet. “But you overextended on the last parry, and that’s why I got you. The swords are extensions of you. Remember that. Think of them as part of your arms, wrists, hands, and you won’t overextend again.”
“Got it,” Jack said. His eyes were bright and alive for the first time since Frank had met him. He was standing taller and was no longer hiding behind his hair.
“It’s late. We are done for today. Let’s go see how your brother is doing.”
Frank led Jack back into the Temple and down the corridor to the training room past the bunks. He couldn’t help but marvel at how far Jack had come in just a few days. He looked more alive than Frank had ever seen him in the short time he had known him. His posture was different. He stood taller and more erect. He made eye contact. There was color to his skin. He was talking and interacting. He was coming out of his shell, and his training was going better than Frank had expected, even considering the prophecy. It gave Frank the one thing he’d had so little of over the last thirty years. Hope.
As Frank passed through the double doors into the training room, he saw Rowan working with Nic.
The room was about fifty yards long and half that much in length. At one end, Nic was holding a longbow. Rowan was by his side instructing him and adjusting his stance as he pulled the string back. Nic let loose an arrow and it soared through the air in a blur and struck the target on the other side of the room dead center, sending sparks and flame bursting from it on impact.
“Excellent,” Rowan said. And Frank was surprised to see a grin on Nic’s face as the big Watcher patted him on the back. “If we had cast a more powerful spell on that arrow, you can imagine the damage you could do.” Rowan glanced up from his instruction and caught Frank’s eye. Frank nodded and Rowan nodded back.
“Let’s go eat. We are done for today.”
“Could I stay a little longer to practice?”
“Sure,” Rowan said, smiling. “You know your way back to the kitchen. We’ll keep the stew hot for you.”
“I’m going to stay too,” Jack said. “For just a little while.”
“Go on,” Frank said.
Jack trotted to his brother’s side and they began to chat, catching up on what they’d learned. Rowan met Frank in the hallway.
“He smiled,” Frank said.
“Indeed,” said Rowan. “Nic is coming along and is quite gifted with the Enochian bow. His progress with magic is coming along as well.”
Frank grunted in agreement as they walked. It was true—he felt a change in the boys. At least the gloom had lifted from them and they
were engaging, but Frank knew this was the calm before the storm, and it weighed on him that no matter how much training they had, nothing would prepare the boys for actual battle.
“How much longer do we have with them?” Rowan asked.
“No idea. I’m waiting to hear from Brennan. He’s researching the kid.”
“The prophecy,” Rowan said.
“Yeah. Let’s eat. I’m starved and could use a pint.”
Rowan slapped him on the shoulder and they walked to the kitchen in silence.
44
ROY
October 30, 2015
New York, New York
Two Watchers, a wannabe King, and a bitch, huh? Roy was riding among the swarm of his horde as it floated like a black cloud over Manhattan.
He had crossed half the country to the south and to the north, and the trail had led back here. Home. The military man had been a tough nut to crack, but in the end he had given in like they always did. And once he was absorbed into Legion with the rest of the military personnel and scientists at the cavern, Legion’s numbers had swelled into the hundreds, but he still didn’t know where the girl was. The military had lost her after she wiped them out, and that left one person who might know. The head honcho Watcher…the priest, Brennan!
He glanced down and there in the middle of Rockefeller Center, the annual Christmas tree had been lit and tourists were circling it, snapping pictures with their phones, and enjoying the winter festivities of Manhattan. The ice-skating rink was packed with tourists and a flamboyant skater performed some kind of graceful spin in the air, landing perfectly into a glide with a huge grin on his face.
“Look at them, Legion,” Roy said. “They are having so much fun! It’s like a party in the middle of the city. Shall we join them?”
