by Barry Reese
“I thought that was an American accent I heard. My name is Bansi. I’ll go get an application and let you fill it out, okay? If you want the job, it’s yours.”
“Thanks.” Jennifer watched him disappear into a back room before she noticed that Johnny was shaking his head. “What?” she asked.
“I’d been hoping to talk you out of all this crap with Gideon but I can see that’s hopeless. You got a place to stay yet?”
“No. I’m supposed to be looking for one right now but I ended up spending this time with you.” She laughed. “Not that I minded.”
“Well, I’ll grab a hotel room for a few days. You can sleep there tonight and I’ll take the floor.” When Jennifer gave him a strange look, he sighed. “Sorry, forgot. Guess you’re doing most of your sleeping early in the morning and letting Gideon have your nights?”
“Yeah, but I appreciate the offer anyway and I’ll take you up on it whenever I get back in the morning. Listen, I’ve been thinking—those New Olympians are in the news a lot and it sounds like they might be useful allies to have.”
John nodded, seeing where this was going. “You want to drop in and pay them a visit?”
“Definitely.” She hesitated as Bansi reappeared. “You want to come along with me, Johnny?”
“Yeah, if you don’t think I’ll be in the way.”
“Oh, you’ll definitely slow me down,” she replied with a playful roll of her eyes. “But I guess I can cover your ass if there’s trouble.”
***
The digital clock on the wall displayed 9:57 p.m. but the strongman known as Atlas felt like it was much later. As the descendant of the legendary Titan whose name he shared, he was capable of working for several days straight without rest... and he’d exceeded that limit by about two days.
Stifling a yawn, he tried to focus his attention on the computer screen in front of him. The woman whose image dominated the screen was well past middle age, but she retained a handsome attractiveness. The silver in her hair somehow gave her a regal appearance and her blue eyes looked like chips of ice. Kayla Kaslov was the daughter of the famed Leonid Kaslov, the Russian superman that had saved the world more times than could be counted. Kayla herself had carved out a legend nearly equal to her father’s3.
“It’s not just Nathaniel, either,” Kayla was saying. “Nearly two dozen other mages have gone missing, as well.”
Atlas frowned thoughtfully. He was a big man, with broad shoulders and a square-cut jaw. Some people looked at him and wrongfully assumed that he was nothing but a meathead, the classic bruiser without brains. Those people were wrong. He had a PhD in physics and was just as capable of defeating an enemy with his brainpower as he was with his prodigious strength. “I don’t get it—if somebody out there is powerful enough to disable the world’s magicians, why haven’t they struck in the days since?”
Kayla gave a shrug. “I wish I knew.”
Atlas reached out a hand, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. “Thanks for the call. If we learn anything new, we’ll share it with you and I’d appreciate it if you did the same.”
“Of course. But before you go, there’s one more thing. Catalyst’s butler said that a troll named Havarti called him from Jennifer Black’s residence.”
Atlas couldn’t help but grin. “Havarti... like the cheese?”
“Yes. The troll says that Jennifer Black escaped from some sort of magical prison and that she’s attempting to rescue the other wizards.”
“Any luck finding her so far?”
“I do have a lead, actually. She picked up a money transfer in London earlier today.”
Atlas glanced to his left, a small beeping sound having caught his attention. There was a floating holographic sphere spinning in the air with tiny moving dots lining the map of Lyonesse and its surroundings. It was one of the team’s Monitor Spheres, designed to warn them of unauthorized arrivals. “I have to go, Kayla. Something with a massive amount of energy is headed towards the island.”
“Be careful.”
Atlas gave a nod and ended the Skype call. He hurriedly tapped on the keyboard, causing the screen to transition to a video feed. For a second, his mind refused to accept what his eyes were seeing. But there it was...
A man on a motorcycle was riding across the waves, on a direct course toward Lyonesse.
And flying beside him was an armored figure that everyone in the supernatural community was familiar with: the cosmic force of retribution known as Babylon.
***
“... ought to kick your armored ass,” Johnny said, continuing a litany of threats that had commenced as soon as Jennifer had ceded control of her form to Gideon.
Gideon Black had flown in silence for long enough. He had used his powers to grant Galahad’s bike the ability to travel over the water, but he was beginning to regret having done so. Several times Galahad’s hand had drifted near the shotgun he had strapped to the motorcycle, as if such a thing would have had any effect on Babylon. “There is danger afoot, John Galahad, but all you are concerned with is threatening me? You are not the man I thought you were.”
“Screw you, asshole! You destroyed Daniel’s life, don’t you get it? And you turned mine upside down for years! And now you’re looking to do the same with Jennifer!”
“I regret Daniel’s demise but the blame you seek to cast is too far-reaching. Your wife is alive now because of me.”
“She died in the first place because of you!”
John’s bike came to a halt on the beach, kicking up sand as he killed the engine. Babylon landed at his side and both men momentarily fell silent, looking up at the massive structure that had been dubbed Olympus. It was a Grecian-style building that rested atop a mountain overlooking the beach, and the entire area was orderly and clean with a sense of history that pervaded the air. John temporarily forgot his anger, caught up in the ambience of the place... it was like coming out of a terrible storm to find a warm, safe place waiting for you.
His sense of peace was dispelled by Gideon Black’s voice. “What would you have me do, John Galahad? Ignore the cries of the dying? Is that what you think Daniel would have wanted?”
Galahad reached for his shotgun, swinging it around until the twin barrels were pointed directly in front of Babylon’s face. “Don’t play games with me! I won’t let you do this again! I want you out of Jennifer’s body and I want you out right now!”
“Then you had best fire your gun, John Galahad, because I will not vacate this form. Jennifer accepted me into her life and though she still hopes to be free of me eventually, she knows that what I do is necessary—as do you! You have been bonded with me in the past and you know the importance of my mission! There have been innocents killed! More will come unless someone stops this... and I can do it, but it will be harder if you stand in my way!”
John’s finger loosened on the trigger and he felt a terrible, overpowering sense of loss. He lowered the gun. “Damn it. I just wish I’d been there for him.”
“You were in his heart and his mind. In the end, that is what matters.”
John grunted. “Never realized you were so touchy-feely, Gideon.”
“I am now in full possession of my memories. It was Daniel’s final gift to me. I remember my entire life as Gideon Black for the first time in centuries and I owe that to your brother. I will honor his sacrifice and continue my crusade. Jennifer understands this... do you?”
“What I understand is that Jennifer’s a big girl and can make her own decisions. If the day comes that she wants my help in getting rid of you, though, I’m giving it.”
Babylon nodded. “That is fair eno—uf!”
John blinked in surprise as a glowing rope of some kind dropped from the sky, ensnaring Babylon. The armored hero struggled against it even as his feet were lifted off the ground.
“Galahad! This restraint has been mystically reinforced... it is preventing me from using my full powers!”
“Gideon! What’s going on?” John lo
oked up to see that the rope extended up into a thick set of clouds, through which a peculiar silhouette was emerging. A wave of noxious laughter reached his ears, chilling the blood in his veins. It couldn’t be... but it was. A man that ought to be dead, several times over, was coming into view.
The diabolical Dr. York.
York was a former scientist that had eventually realized that science had its limits... he had turned to dark sorcery, selling his soul to the service of Elder Gods. His body became the receptacle for dark energies that had the unfortunate side effect of altering his appearance. York’s brain currently floated above his torso in a protective glass dome.
The evil creature had battled The Peregrine several times in the 1930s before clashing with both Assistance Unlimited and Babylon, the latter taking place during John Galahad’s time as host of the cosmic spirit of retribution.
York was perched on a circular anti-gravity device, gripping the thick magical rope in his gloved hands. He sounded almost gleeful, as he asked, “No words of greeting, Babylon? Surely it hasn’t been so long that you’ve forgotten me?”
The armored hero didn’t reply, instead allowing York to tow him farther away from John Galahad and the island of Lyonesse. Inside, he could feel Jennifer urging him to resist, offering up spells of resistance.
Calm yourself, Jennifer, he silently replied. This being reeks of the magical energies we’ve been tracking. If he serves our true foe, then it is best to bide our time... and then seek vengeance for the innocent when we’ve been taken to York’s foul master!
Hearing his thoughts, Jennifer ceased her pressuring. She “saw” through Gideon’s eyes as he was dragged higher through the air, York bearing him away toward the city. In less than fifteen minutes, the villain dropped Babylon at the mouth of a large sewer tunnel, the ground fouled by mud and waste.
Still bound, Babylon rested on his knees. Somehow his sleek silver form seemed resistant to the mud, none of which clung to him.
A voice from the shadows murmured, “You actually brought him. I’m impressed.”
Babylon stirred at the familiar tones. “Bloodshot.”
“Yes, it’s me.” The vampire moved into view, his face still shattered from their last encounter. “And this is the last time we’re gonna meet. I promise you that.”
“Hush,” said yet another man. All three—power-mad occultist, vampire, and cosmic spirit of retribution—turned to see a fourth man step out of the darkness.
He was tall and thin, with an air of self-importance. For Babylon his face held no meaning, but Jennifer recognized him, having seen him frequently on the news in recent months. She whispered his name through the bond she shared with Babylon but Gideon made no response, not realizing its significance.
Prime Minister Clive Winthrop smiled softly. “Dr. York, you did well. I commend you.”
York, still holding on to the end of the magical rope, backed away from Babylon with a slight bow. “Thank you, my lord.” Bloodshot sneered at York’s deferential manner but said nothing.
Winthrop clasped his hands behind his back, staring down at the bound figure before him. “Babylon... we meet again, for the very first time.”
“Winthrop,” Babylon said, his eyes glowing fiercely. “The blood of innocents has stained your hands.”
“Yes, I’m afraid so... and your blood will join theirs before this night is through.”
Chapter V Revelations
“Tonight we’re going to bury you, Babylon—once and for all.” Winthrop waved a hand dismissively. “Go on and free yourself from your bonds. I have no doubt that you could have done so anytime you wished.”
Rising to his feet, Babylon channeled just enough cosmic energy to engulf the rope and reduce it to ashes. York dropped his end just before it, too, vanished.
“I shoulda known,” Bloodshot whispered, just loud enough that York could overhear. “He let you capture him.”
York bristled. “I did better than you ever have, monster.”
Babylon ignored the jibes going on between Bloodshot and York. He kept his gaze fixed upon the Prime Minister. “We have met before... I feel a familiar presence within you.”
“Yes, we’re old acquaintances. I’m afraid that we’ve rarely been allies.”
“I should have attacked you when I first detected the scent of evil around your office,” Babylon said. “I won’t make the mistake of allowing you to escape again.”
“You won’t be able to, because tonight I’m going to grind your bones into paste!” Bloodshot crowed triumphantly, looking like a happy child at Christmas time. He’d fought Babylon numerous times in the past, always ending up with the short end of the stick. He was obviously pleased to be on the winning side this time.
Dr. York’s bizarre physical form made it impossible for him to display any emotion, but his body language suggested that he, too, was excited about what was to come.
“What my erstwhile companion is trying to say,” Winthrop remarked, “is that I’m tired of the games. Bloodshot failed to slay you in your last encounter and since then you’ve been busily disrupting other plans of mine, though you probably don’t have a clue that you’ve been doing it. My fingers are in a number of different pies, some of which have been disrupted by your recent war on street crime.”
Babylon lifted off the ground by several feet, allowing him to look down upon his enemies. Bloodshot responded by hiding him in a field of darkness while York took off once more on his floating platform, keeping what he assumed to be a safe distance between himself and Babylon. Only Winthrop remained unmoved, seemingly unaffected by the threat that Babylon represented.
Babylon pointed one finger at the Prime Minister. “I will not talk to a shade. Show me your true face.”
Winthrop’s smile broadened. “Perhaps the time has come, hasn’t it? After all, I’ve seen your true face, Gideon—the one you keep hidden under all that metal.” Reaching up, Winthrop dug his fingers into the flesh of his face. He began to peel it away with a soft ripping sound, discarding the mask of mortality that had hidden his true visage from the pitiful, mewling masses of humanity.
Gone was Clive Winthrop... revealed now was the son of Lucifer, Damian. His skin was so black that it looked carved from obsidian and his eyes were red pits of fire. When he revealed his teeth, they were all as sharp and straight as pins.
Babylon didn’t bother to hide his disgust. “I should have known. The master of lies.”
Damian gave a bow. “You do me credit. If only my father shared your view of my skills.” With a swirl of his fingers, the rest of the illusion was shattered. No longer was he a man, dressed in suit and tie. Now he was evil personified, and the air was fouled by the scent of brimstone. “There was a prophecy tied to the rise of the Black Mass: The blackest of hearts shall rule the land of Olde Kings. Does that description truly fit anyone other than I?”
***
“God damn it!” John Galahad was still on the beach, staring skyward in the direction that Babylon and York had fled. He clutched his shotgun in one hand, as if it would somehow give him the ability to deal with this sudden turn of events. He could follow them on his motorcycle, of course, but York’s ability to disappear behind the clouds meant that John would never be able to keep up with them, even with his bike’s newfound power to travel over water.
The sudden impression of a sword point being pressed against the back of his neck made him pause. “Toss your gun to the sand, please,” a deep male voice said.
John considered wheeling about and telling the new arrival where he could shove his suggestion but he decided against it. Jennifer had been adamant that the New Olympians could help and he’d be damned if he was going to let her down. He tossed the shotgun aside and raised his hands high. “I’m not an enemy,” he said. “My name’s Johnny Galahad.”
“Paranormal investigator and fighter of evil. I’ve read about you in files shared with us by The Peregrine.”
“The new guy or the old guy?”
/> The sword was lowered and a handsome, powerfully built man stepped into view. John recognized him as Atlas; even without the quasi-Greek outfit he wore, that physique was unmistakable. The sword that Atlas held looked ancient and extremely heavy. “The new one,” Atlas replied with a smile. “But I’m pretty sure that the actual files were written by the old guy.”
John accepted the handshake that Atlas offered, and he tried not to grimace at the strength of the other man’s grip.
“Sorry about this welcome,” Atlas said. “We’re all on edge around here.”
“No problem. I actually arrived with Babylon but he was taken away by an old enemy of ours.”
“Huh. I thought you were Babylon.”
“Not anymore—and never again. Look, we were coming here to share info with you guys. We know where the world’s sorcerers are but we don’t know how to break them free. Supposedly one of your members is a wizard, right? But he was untouched by whatever came after the other major sorcerers.”
“That’s right. His name’s Nox, but his magical powers are actually pretty limited. He’s not here right now but as soon as he gets back, we were planning to look into those attacks you mentioned. I was on the line with Kayla Kaslov when you and Babylon approached.” Atlas looked up into the night sky, hearing a rumble of thunder. The clouds thickened and lightning flashed behind them, illuminating the scene with frightening brilliance. “Babylon was attacked, you say?”
“Yeah and I don’t have a clue how I’m going to find him...”
The sound of the motorcycle revving to life made both men pause, and John took a quick step toward the vehicle. The entire machine started to glow slightly and John was uncertain what to do. Was Babylon signaling for him to hop aboard? Or was something more sinister at work?
“What’s going on?” Atlas asked, gripping his sword more tightly and adopting a fighting stance.
“Don’t know but it probably ain’t good.”
