The Second Book of Babylon

by Barry Reese

  Life was funny that way.

  “Who was that?” Roxanne’s husky voice came to him from the bedroom of their motor home. Investing in the RV had been the best choice Johnny had made in the past couple of years; it allowed him and his family to travel the country and still have a place to call their own.

  The kids were outside playing, their voices loud and clear. They were at an RV park and the kids had quickly discovered that there were other boys and girls their age to play with.

  “I have to go to London,” Johnny said, avoiding looking at her as she stepped into view. She was gorgeous, with long red hair that curled at the ends. Dressed as she was in a tank-top and shorts, she looked good enough to eat.

  Roxanne crossed her arms over her ample bosom and waited for him to finally glance in her direction. When he did, he saw that her expression was full of such quiet fury that it made him ache inside. “You promised me that this was over, Johnny. My god, the kids and I have been kidnapped how many times in the past three years alone? Not to mention the fact that I was freakin’ killed and resurrected as some kind of demon queen for Gideon Black! And now you’re rushing headlong into the occult again? Leave it alone, Johnny. Let Dan handle it.”

  “I didn’t mention the occult,” Johnny muttered. “All I said was that I had to go to London.”

  Roxanne rolled her eyes. “So you’re telling me that this isn’t something to do with Babylon?”

  “I didn’t say that, either. Look... Dan’s my brother. I won’t be gone long.”

  Galahad moved to embrace her but she pulled away. “Hug me when you get back, John. But not before.”

  Johnny said nothing as she turned and stepped out of the trailer, calling to the kids. He didn’t have time to nurse his pain, though. Roxanne would have to deal with this—he had to make plans for a trip to England.

  Even before Havarti had called him, he’d sensed that something was wrong. If something had happened to Daniel, the last link to his past was gone—it would just be Roxanne and the kids.

  And if Babylon was responsible for something happening to Daniel, then the armored avenger was going to pay for it.

  ***

  Babylon landed atop a rooftop less than a block away from 10 Downing Street. He had lost Bloodshot’s scent but the mystic trail that had led the cosmic hero to England remained. If anything, it had grown stronger as he’d approached the seat of the Prime Minister’s power.

  What brought me here to this country? he mused. Could it somehow be housed in that building, related to the new government that is in power? Politics is full of the corrupt but surely the evil there could not be great enough to have drawn me from America. Still, dawn approaches and I shall find no answers this night. Best to rest in Highgate during the day and allow Jennifer to search for a home in the late afternoon.

  Turning away from Downing Street, Babylon took off to the air once more, unaware of how close he had to come to ultimate evil.

  ***

  While Babylon made way for his new lair, Clive Winthrop stared at a bloodied Bloodshot with contempt. “Failure! I should have known. You’ve never been able to best Babylon in the past... Did you at least find out what he’s doing here? It can’t be coincidence that he arrived right when I—” Winthrop paused when he noticed that Bloodshot was focusing more on touching his ruined face. “Answer me!”

  Bloodshot grimaced. “Not exactly. There was some witch with him. I killed her but I think she’d brought him to England to fight some “coming evil” or something. Mystic double-talk. Daniel Higgins, Babylon’s old host, is dead, though. He has a new one—a blonde girl, real nice ass. Named Jennifer something.”

  “Black,” Winthrop murmured.

  “That’s it!” Bloodshot confirmed. “How did you know?”

  Winthrop turned away, clenching and unclenching his fists rhythmically. “I know more about their damned family tree than I’d care to admit. That girl shouldn’t be here. She should be locked away with the other mystics.” The Prime Minister’s eyes flashed scarlet. “The positive of my familiarity with her is that I think I know exactly how to destroy her.”

  Chapter IV Dark Reunion

  Jennifer woke up to a terrible throbbing in her head and a crick in her neck. She sat up, knocking off the thin blanket that Babylon had plucked off the ground for her to use for warmth. She coughed as she stood up, rubbing her hands up and down her arms for warmth. The tomb that Gideon had claimed for her was dusty and cold, not to mention dark.

  It was also terribly, terribly depressing.

  She staggered out into the sunlight, hearing voices off in the distance. She looked a mess and wasn’t eager to confront visitors or cemetery workers.

  Inside her head, she could sense Gideon’s presence. He was stirring restlessly, eager for night to return. He seemed to have decided that she could have the daylight hours but he expected her to cede control to him in the evenings.

  Screw that for now, Jennifer thought. I’ve gotta find a place where I can wash up and get some food. Havarti was supposed to wire me some money so maybe I can pick that up and rent a room somewhere. Then I need to figure out how to get in contact with Johnny once he arrives. Maybe between the two of us we can solve whatever’s going on and then split Gideon and me back into two separate beings. Topaz made it sound like Gideon needs someone of the Black bloodline to merge with and I know that Johnny’s done his time already... so is there anyone else out there that could do it?

  Jennifer spotted a motorcycle parked nearby, a helmet resting on the seat. It was an Aprilia RSV4, an Italian sportbike that was extremely compact but ultra powerful. She’d dated a guy that had been obsessed with bikes and she’d come to appreciate the power between her legs, as well—and when she’d first met Johnny, they’d discovered a shared love for motorcycles.

  The voices that she’d heard earlier were closer now and she was willing to bet that at least one of them belonged to the owner of this gorgeous machine.

  Running a hand over the bright red paint job, she noticed that the helmet wasn’t the only thing resting on the seat—the ignition key was there, as well.

  She looked around, feeling guilty over what she was about to do. She needed a ride and this one seemed delivered by the gods. With a wistful sigh, she pulled on the helmet and slid her legs over the seat. A moment later, she revved the engine and grinned as the powerful beast roared to life.

  First order of business: get some cash. Then I’ll get cleaned up and fed. After that... I just might start looking for a job since my school’s probably shot for the semester. Might as well find something for me to do during the day when Gideon’s not ruining my nights.

  Jennifer rocketed out of the cemetery, chewing up the grass and earth as the bike carried her out onto the London streets.

  ***

  Johnny Galahad rode through the streets of London, taking in the sights and sounds of a city he’d only been to twice in his life. Traveling all over America as a roaming investigator into the paranormal had dulled his enthusiasm for sightseeing but he’d retained fond memories of Europe from when he’d first traveled here in his early twenties. The charm and ambience of London still called to him, so different from the big cities of the United States: a pleasant mix of the old and the new. To Johnny, it seemed like the prototypical twenty-first century metropolis, trying to cling to the traditions of the past while struggling to cope with the rapid changes of the present.

  Damn, I’m getting too philosophical in my old age, he mused. What I ought to think about is how I’m supposed to find Jennifer in a city this size. Havarti didn’t pass on any kind of address or—

  A lithe female figure on a serious sportbike roared past in the opposite lane, forcing John to blink in surprise. He glanced over his shoulder in disbelief, watching as the figure weaved dangerously through traffic before speeding off around a corner.

  Grinning, he pulled a u-turn and took off in pursuit. A few startled pedestrians gawked at the grizzled, leather-clad bike
r driving past, drawing a chuckle from John. In his youth, he’d been a clean-cut sort but as he’d aged—slowly but surely—he’d morphed into a stubble-wearing, broad-shouldered ruffian. He could still clean up nice but the older he got, the more comfortable he got in his lived-in jeans and battered leather jacket. The fact that he was black only added to his “menace” in some ways; he’d found that white people were intimidated by bikers already but if they were big and brown-skinned, all the worse.

  He accelerated as fast he could on the narrow London roadways, drawing ever closer to the woman ahead of him. She noticed him in one of her mirrors and slowed quickly, pulling over in front of a small café and bookstore.

  John came to a halt nearby, watching as she pulled off her helmet and grinned. “Nice ride,” he said.

  Jennifer leaned toward him and threw her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tight. She smelled slightly musty, but he didn’t mind. Cousins or not, she was a looker. In fact, it was her sweet little form that he’d recognized when she’d driven past. Dressed as she was in yoga pants and a sports bra, there was plenty of her showing. Her skin was creamy white; coupled with her blonde hair and blue eyes, it was easy to see why most people had trouble reconciling her being John’s cousin. The family tree had many branches...

  “Jesus, John... ! You don’t know how good it is to see a friendly face!”

  “Glad to see you, too, kid.” He pulled back slightly. “Havarti said there was a problem with Daniel.”

  “Yeah, you could say that.” Jennifer ran a hand self-consciously through her unkempt hair. The way she suddenly avoided looking into his eyes made John tense up. “Dan’s dead, John. I’m sorry.”

  Lowering his shoulders, John sighed. He had half expected this, had been dreading it ever since the phone call had come. He’d called in a favor with a former client to get a ride on a private plane but the whole time he was rushing to England, he’d known that he wouldn’t like what was waiting for him.

  “Damn it. It’s not fair,” John said, shaking his head. “Babylon just wouldn’t leave him alone, would he?”

  “It’s not Babylon’s fault, Johnny. Dan’s been dead for months. He sacrificed himself to save Gideon and Roxanne when they were all trapped in Hell.”

  John frowned. “That’s not possible. I heard from him a few weeks ago. In fact, he’s been staying with some old friends of mine.”

  “That wasn’t really him. He was just a mystic clone or something that Gideon created to keep himself from feeling lonely. When Gideon was forced to admit the truth to himself, he started to break down without a physical host. A girl named Topaz died to bring Gideon and I together.”

  John’s eyes narrowed. “Waitaminute. You’re not saying that you and Gideon—”

  Jennifer held up a hand. “Let’s not talk about this out on the street, okay?” She looked at the café, seeing a few people seated inside, reading books and sipping warm beverages. Ancient Tomes was stenciled across the window, with a picture of a hot cup of tea resting beside a stack of books. “I’m starving,” she said. “I hope this place has some kind of egg sandwich.”

  “That troll get your money to you?”

  “Yeah. I just picked it up and had it converted.” As the two of them dismounted from their bikes, she took a quick glance in the sad, haunted eyes of her cousin. “I wouldn’t have gotten you involved in all this if I didn’t feel like you were needed here. I hope you know that.”

  John forced a grin. “You know I’m always here for you, kid. I just wish that I could have been there for Daniel when he needed me.”

  “He loved you, John.”

  “Yeah.”

  John followed her toward the café, so distracted that for once he didn’t even ogle her pert backside—which was very much unlike him. His mouth was dry and he kept thinking of one thing over and over again: You’re not taking anybody else from me, Gideon. You screwed up Daniel’s life and you made a mess out of mine. Jennifer’s off-limits to you so you better start shopping around for a new home right now.

  ***

  Clive Winthrop stepped away from the podium, waving to all the smiling faces. He looked resplendent in his tailored suit, every hair perfectly in place and a heartfelt expression on his face. The press appearance had gone flawlessly, with Winthrop hitting on all of his favorite and most successful topics: fear of foreigners, concern over the rising tide of supernatural crime, and the inability of the European Union to do anything about it.

  There was so much uncertainty in the world today that it was child’s play to fan the flames of terror and intolerance.

  Besides, Winthrop had more experience with such things than most anyone could imagine.

  He allowed his attendants to usher him from the stage and into the shadows, where he watched with amusement as a thin man with a hooked nose rushed forward to meet him. The fellow was positively shaking with nervousness.

  Winthrop offered a hand, which the other man lightly took for a moment. “Dr. Childress,” the Prime Minister began. “Have you brought good news to me?”

  The man blinked rapidly, fumbling with his words. “Yes! It was brilliant, Mr. Prime Minister. Your notes... ! I have been in the field of robotics for almost twenty years and I’ve never seen anything like your ideas. I had no idea that you were so brilliant! I mean—”

  Winthrop cut off the fawning. “Thank you. I try not to brag. Let’s cut to the chase, shall we?”

  “Yes, sir. I took those scanners that the Americans gave you and reconfigured them as you asked. I’m now able to map those specific wavelengths that you were so interested in. It’s bizarre... most of them are focused around Highgate Cemetery!”

  Winthrop touched the man’s arm, giving it a squeeze. “Excellent. You’ve done well. Your nation owes you quite a bit.”

  Childress beamed. He reached into his coat and withdrew a small, handheld device that featured several knobs and switches, as well as an HD-quality screen. “I brought the prototype for you.”

  Winthrop accepted the device, noting that its screen was dark. He activated the power switch and was rewarded by a full-color map of the British Isles, with dots flashing dimly. Several were on the island of Lyonesse, the mystical island that had risen from the depths when the Black Mass had taken place. The island was now home to a group of adventurers dubbed The New Olympians. The group was reportedly made up of the demigod spawn of the ancient gods and mortals, and they had spent much of the past few years engaging in one breathtaking adventure after another.

  The New Olympians showed up on the screen because of their supernatural auras, but they were not his true targets. Childress had altered the device to hunt specific energy signatures—the ones belonging to Babylon.

  The cosmic spirit of retribution’s appearance in London at this moment, when Winthrop was so close to ultimate victory, was too big of a coincidence.

  Could he know? Winthrop wondered. There’s no way he could... But then again, if anyone on Earth could see through my disguise, it would be Gideon Black.

  The Prime Minister stepped past Childress, who blinked in surprise at the unspoken dismissal. Winthrop’s attention was now focused entirely on the scanner in his hand, to the exclusion of all else. With this, Babylon would not be able to hide for long.

  I’m going to find you, Gideon. My pets are going to drag you back to Hell, where you belong.

  ***

  John Galahad watched as Jennifer finished off her third sandwich. The girl had been true to her word—she’d been starving. Being holed up in a crypt while Babylon ran free had taken its toll on her. It was more proof in John’s eyes that Babylon didn’t give a damn about his hosts.

  “So let me go over this one more time,” he said, keeping his voice low so that the other diners in the café didn’t overhear. “You’re bonded with the spirit of our ancestor—the same one that led Daniel to Hell and to his own death—and now you’re living in London because Gideon thinks that some great evil is coming. Unfortunately, nobody
knows what that evil really is.”

  Jennifer nodded slowly. “Yeah. Pretty crazy, I know. Of course, I used to wear a metal bikini and spent time being tutored by the ghost of an Ancient Atlantean... and now a troll is living in my apartment. Crazy and me are old pals. There’s more to it than just a bad feeling on our part, though. That empath I told you about—Topaz—she said she’d sensed this danger, too. And somebody has taken out most of the world’s mages, locking them away in Limbo. Whoever did that is here in London, I’m sure of it. And Bloodshot made it sound like he was sent to destroy Babylon by someone or something... it’s all related.”

  “Look—I’ve had it with all this! I quit!”

  Jennifer twisted around in her seat to see that their waitress was storming out the front door, while the shop’s owner watched her go with a look of frustration on his face. He was a young Indian gentleman and he cast an apologetic glance around at the suddenly silent café. “Sorry, folks. It’s hard to find good help these days.”

  Johnny nodded, having found that to be true over the years.

  Jennifer watched as the owner picked up a few books and set them on a shelving cart. She looked around the café, admiring the way it mixed being a small café with an antique bookstore. Some of the titles on the shelves were rather obscure and many of them were of a supernatural bent.

  Before she’d thought it through, she was standing up and crossing the distance between her and the shop owner. “Listen, if you’re looking for someone to help out around here, I’m looking for a job.”

  The man looked up, his eyes traveling the length of her body. He was, Jennifer noticed, a very handsome man with dark, penetrating eyes. “It, uh, doesn’t pay all that much. And if you have allergies like my last waitress, these old books are going to kill you.”

  “I’m used to old books,” she replied. Holding out a hand, she said, “Jennifer Black. Recently moved here from the States.”