by Barry Reese
Magpie ducked under a swipe of the heroine’s blade, his smile never wavering. Even when Babylon hit him with an energy blast that brought him to the ground, Magpie never stopped looking confident.
Babylon placed a boot on Magpie’s head, holding him still. Artemis took the opportunity to disarm the villain by kicking his blades out of his hands.
“This ends now,” Babylon said. He removed his foot from Magpie’s head and seized him by the collar. Lifting him up so that his face was level with his own, Babylon stared into Magpie’s eyes and said, “Feel the suffering that you’ve inflicted upon others.”
For the first time since the battle began, Magpie looked concerned. He saw something in the cosmic swirl of Babylon’s eyes... and it bothered him on a deep, spiritual level. His smile faded and he began to scream... the screams went on and on until even the battle-hardened Artemis was forced to look away.
Eventually, Babylon tossed the villain aside. Magpie lay where he landed, twitching and moaning, with spittle flecking his lips.
Artemis looked at Babylon with distrust. “What... exactly... did you do to him?”
“Nothing more than he deserves.” Babylon felt a change in the air behind him and he whirled about, expecting to see Magpie somehow rising to his feet once more. Instead, he saw the thin, pale figure of Nox.
“You must return to Lyonesse at once. There are things that must be discussed if we are to stop Damian’s scheme.”
Artemis stepped toward her friend, disappointment writ on her face. “We failed! The site has already been activated!”
“You are not the only ones to find disappointment,” Nox replied. “None of us will succeed at this. Destiny has decreed that this be played out in a different manner than we had hoped. You must trust me on this—the war is not lost.”
Without another word, Nox was gone, his form vanishing in a haze of swirling darkness. Able to traverse the dimensions of shadow, Nox was able to travel from one place to the next in the blink of an eye; sadly, he was not able to take companions with him. Given what he’d told Artemis about what entities lurked in the shadow realms, she had never begrudged him this ability.
Babylon put a hand around the warrior woman’s waist. “I can get us to Lyonesse in minutes.”
“I hate to leave all these bodies like this,” she said, placing her arms around Babylon’s neck and shoulders. “It’s not right.”
“Agreed... but we must trust the authorities to handle their remains with respect. If we don’t stay true to our duty, the numbers of the dead will only increase.”
***
Bansi’s Flat, London
“... and reports are now being confirmed of mass deaths throughout the United Kingdom. Official estimates are that close to 2,500 people may have died in the past several hours, with little evidence as to the cause of death. Coming on the heels of Aphrodite’s stunning words on the BBC newscast, however, many people are understandably on edge. Large groups of people have massed at Downing Street...”
“Turn it off, Bansi. Please.”
Bansi flicked the remote, muting the words of the CNN broadcaster. The BBC had been silent ever since Aphrodite’s announcement had been cut off, forcing Bansi to look to other news services.
Outside, lightning flashed through the snow clouds and a deep rumbling seemed to be growing louder and louder in the distance. “I’m scared as hell, mum.”
Bansi’s mother, a somewhat plump woman with classically Indian features, sat nearby. She stared out the window, her hands fussing with a bit of knitting that she’d been working on all evening. She’d moved in with Bansi earlier this year, when her health had begun to fail, and though neither would admit it, the situation was a nice one. She had helped her son tidy up the small flat and he had helped her regain interest in a world that had begun to pass her by. “Something bad is coming,” she said. “I feel it in my bones.”
Bansi couldn’t argue with that. This stuff about the Prime Minister was hard to believe, but given the strange weather lately, he was willing to give it the benefit of the doubt—especially when the news had been delivered by one of the New Olympians.
Besides, running a bookshop like Ancient Tomes, with its burgeoning occult section, had made him open-minded about such things.
A sudden rapping at the door to the flat made both of them jump. Bansi’s mother looked at him with wide eyes. “Did you invite one of your girlfriends over?”
Bansi grinned, recognizing the private joke his mother had made. Virtually all of his friends were male and he hadn’t had a true date in the entire time that his mother had lived with him. He hoped to change all that soon—potentially with Jennifer—but there was no guarantee that he wasn’t headed toward middle-aged bachelorhood.
The young man crossed over to the door, peering out through the small peephole. He saw a large Caucasian man with an unshaven face. The fellow wore a leather jacket over a dingy t-shirt and both it and his hair were covered with a soft frosting of snow. The man looked ill, constantly shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
Suddenly, the man’s eyes came up and he seemed to realize that Bansi was looking at him. Leaning forward, the stranger said, “Help me... I’m going to die out here.”
Bansi shivered. The man sounded horrible and looked even worse. The stranger raised a hand, covering up the peephole... the palm was covered with blood. But was it the man’s own? Or someone else’s?
Bansi backed away from the door, raising his voice. “I’m sorry, but... I’ll call the police for you.”
“Who is it, Bansi?” asked his mother, rising from her chair.
“Go back to your bedroom, mum. Please.”
A loud thump against the door made Bansi screech like a chipmunk. He swallowed hard and approached the door, taking another look through the peephole. He saw the man fall backward against the door across the hall and slide to the floor. A streak of blood was left in his wake.
Bansi whispered to himself as he began to unlock the door. “Why am I doing this? I’m going to regret it when I’m dead.” Stepping out of the safety of his apartment, Bansi asked, “Sir? Are you alive?”
The stranger’s eyes flicked open. “Bolan...”
“What?” Bansi said, kneeling at the man’s side. His body was riddled with cuts and scratches, some of them looking very deep.
“My name... is Michael Bolan.”
And the man once known to the world as Retribution passed out.
***
Lyonesse, the headquarters of the New Olympians
Peter Chapman and Joey Hunter—Hermes and Apollo, respectively—were the last to return to Lyonesse. They, like the others, had failed in their mission. The duo took some comfort in that their failure had been one of timing more than anything else. Damian had claimed St. Mary’s long before the heroes had ever arrived on the scene.
As they stepped into the team’s meeting room, they found a somber group of adventurers, many of whom were huddled together in smaller groups, consoling one another.
Babylon, the cosmic spirit of retribution, stood apart from the others. The metallic figure was an odd one, Apollo thought—he was single-minded to the point of being grim. Despite knowing how it would go, Apollo approached Babylon and smiled in greeting. The solar-powered hero was the team’s most gregarious member and he simply couldn’t stop himself from attempting to befriend everyone. “How goes it, Babylon?” he asked.
Babylon looked at Apollo for a moment before speaking. Apollo had long, flowing blond hair and the body of a male model. That body was amply displayed as he wore only a sash of cloth and what amounted to a Speedo along with sandals.
“Things do not go well, master of the sun.” Babylon gestured around the room. “Defeat hangs heavy in the air and the blood of the innocent flows like a river over the land.”
Apollo stared at him before breaking out into a grin. “Do you have any hobbies?”
Babylon seemed confused by the question. “Hobbies... ?”
“I have no purpose outside of my mission... but I have had human hosts that have had such things. I have been bonded with musicians, motorcycle aficionados, and book lovers.”
Apollo nodded, not really understanding what Babylon meant by “hosts” but pleased to have made some kind of connection, nonetheless. “Maybe you should take a clue from them and find a way to relax. All work and no play is not healthy for anyone—not even you. I think you’d find that you’re better at your mission if you’re not so tightly wound.”
Babylon started to reply but fell silent when Nox began speaking. As one, the entire room turned to look at the pale-skinned hero.
“A plague of sorrow falls across the land,” Nox said. “Even we in this room are not immune to it. Damian has the power he needs—it only falls to him to decide when to use it. His seeming victory, however, will also be his downfall. He holds so much magical power that he now stands out like a beacon to me. Before he was able to hide himself from my vision but that is no longer the case.” Nox summoned the holographic Monitor Sphere that the New Olympians used to track emergency situations. He tapped it, causing the image to zoom in to a street-level view of London. “The foul villain currently resides beneath 10 Downing Street.”
Babylon stepped forward, turning to face the others. He radiated a sort of cold authority... this was obviously someone far more experienced than anyone else in the room, and while he might lack the skills needed for appropriate social niceties, he knew what it took to fight the horrors of Hell. “We must now go forward and destroy the son of Lucifer,” he said, raising his voice so that everyone could hear him. “We do not do this just for the innocents that have been lost but for those whose lives may yet be spared. All of us have been blessed by the divine—some by the touch of the Greek gods, some by the angels of death and retribution. It is now up to us to use those gifts and bring about the downfall of our enemy.”
Aphrodite spoke up, saying, “We have to be prepared for the worst. Not only will Damian be waiting for us with all his newfound power... but we might have to go through his very human and very innocent security forces. Those people still loyal to him may not realize that he’s not even human.”
John Galahad, who had been standing in the corner of the room, stepped forward. Inside Babylon, Jennifer watched with approval; Babylon’s words had been good ones but John was far more charismatic.
To her surprise, he didn’t give the sort of rah-rah speech she’d been expecting. He simply looked around at each of the faces in the room and said, “Let’s not waste any more time. I say we go and kick some ass!”
Atlas was the first to respond, raising a clenched fist and shouting, “For England! For the world!”
The chant was picked up by the rest of The New Olympians and seemed to echo far and wide... even as far away as Downing Street.
***
“Isles of Magick!”
The big crossover event wrapped up with a huge battle that destroyed several city blocks—and featured the ultimate defeat of Damian! Unfortunately, he had successfully crafted a spell that was unleashed before he was banished from Earth: all of Great Britain was trapped beneath an invisible Barrier, cutting the people of the realm off from the rest of the world. Damian had planned to make this his personal empire on Earth... instead, it was the last legacy of his mad scheme.
For the full story, see the “Isles of Magick!” anthology, now on sale at the finest New Pulp retailers.
We pick up with the rest of Babylon’s story...
Chapter VIII Furious
Everything I touched was golden
Everything I loved got broken
On the road to Mandalay
Every mistake I’ve ever made
Has been rehashed and then replayed
As I got lost along the way.
“Road to Mandalay” by Robbie Williams
Flint McConnell ran as hard and as fast as his twenty-two-year-old legs could go. He still held the bloody switchblade in his left hand, his fingers clutching it so tightly that his knuckles were white. The good-for-nothing slag that he’d been shagging in the park had screamed so loud when he started buggering her that she’d brought him serious trouble—the thing that had answered her call for help had no interest in hearing how she’d been cock-teasing Flint for the past few weeks only to clench her thighs shut when he finally thought he was going to score. She’d practically dared him to prove he was a man... and, by god, he’d shown her who was boss.
The scent of ozone filled his nostrils and he glanced behind him to see an armored figure fly around the corner of a large tree. Babylon glowed with cosmic energy, the blue highlights on his armor standing out brightly.
Flint plunged forward, tripping over an exposed tree root. He tumbled head over foot and landed on his back, momentarily dazed. When his vision stopped swimming, he found himself staring up into the face of Hell itself. Babylon grabbed Flint by the collar and lifted him up off the ground. The hero flew upward and then to the west, leaving Flint to dangle in his grip. The rapist felt his crotch grow warm and wet as his terror overwhelmed him... if Babylon released him, he’d fall to his death.
“I’m sorry!” he screeched, but the sound was lost in the wind as Babylon flew on toward a destination that was unknown to Flint... though he suddenly got a chilling realization when Babylon abruptly began to descend. He dropped Flint when they were only five or six feet from the ground and Flint looked about wildly, recognizing their surroundings: they were at Highgate Cemetery.
“This is where you are headed, little man,” Babylon said, pointing one finger at the sobbing rapist. “An early grave and an eternity of suffering!”
Flint wiped away the snot from his nose and tried to swallow but his throat seemed as dry as a desert. Not too long ago he would have been unable to picture himself in the presence of a man like Babylon... but in a world where the Prime Minister was revealed to be the son of Lucifer, nothing was inconceivable. “She wanted it, man... I swear!”
Babylon said nothing, but he raised both hands, showing the palms of his gauntlets to Flint. “May the starlight burn away your lies and show you the truth of who and what you are.”
Cosmic power shot forth, engulfing Flint. The pain was transcendent and the young man screamed so long and so hard that men and women miles away shivered in their beds, grateful for their locked doors and windows.
When the deed was done, there was nothing left of Flint save for a pile of smoking bones and a bloody knife.
“Retribution has been had,” Babylon said. He turned away from the remains, allowing the armor to peel away from his form. What had been hard metal became soft, warm flesh. The shape of his form became feminine and his skin lightened in color, shifting from a creamy brown to milky-white.
Jennifer Black took in a deep breath and closed her eyes. The scent of burned human flesh was sickly sweet and made her nauseous. She located her motorcycle, which she’d hidden amongst the trees before giving control of her body to Gideon. She swung one leg over the seat and sat for a moment on the bike, her mind swimming with thoughts.
Gideon had been merciless lately, carrying out his grim duties with renewed vigor. He feels guilty, she mused. He thinks they should have been able to stop Damian before the Barrier went up... Every person that’s cut off from a loved one, every innocent swallowed up by a magical beast... he thinks they’re all suffering because of him.
“Long time, no see, kid.”
Jennifer looked around to see John Galahad walking toward her. His dark clothing and brown skin made him difficult to see in the gloom, but she saw the white of his teeth when he grinned, and she sprang off the bike to rush into his arms.
John accepted her embrace, returning it with equal warmth. He still looked haggard but sober—a definite improvement from how she’d seen him last.
“John! How are you?”
“Getting by. How about you?”
“Me? I’m fine... the shop’s been closed for a few days because of all the weird stuff that’s been going on but that just gives me and Gideon more time to get acquainted.”
“Good for you two,” John murmured half-heartedly. He gestured to her form-fitting pants, with an animal print design. “So what’s with the outfit? You look like you should be one of the Solid Gold dancers.”
“The who?”
John waved away the question. “Forget it. I’m just an old man, I guess.” He reached out and took her hand. “We need to talk.”
“About what?” she asked, though she knew there were any number of potential topics he might want to discuss. He didn’t like her being bonded to Babylon, his wife and children were locked away from him on the other side of the Barrier, and Catalyst was still trapped in Limbo, surviving in a pocket of time that was slowly eroding.
The two of them walked back to Jennifer’s bike, the sounds of sirens in the distance making both of them look warily toward the heart of the city. Since the Barrier had gone up, there had been widespread panic and looting, taxing the efforts of The New Olympians to keep up with it all. The police and military were both out in full force, with the Labour Party back in temporary control of the government until new elections could be held.
“What are we going to do here, Jen? I mean, this is way beyond anything you or me can deal with. Magic is everywhere, and people are spouting supernatural abilities left and right. Technology is hit or miss... there’s the chance it could go out completely and then what? England’s screwed.”
“Yeah, I know.” Jennifer looked around, enjoying the silence and peace of the cemetery. It was funny to her that here, in the place of the dead, she sometimes felt the most alive. “We don’t really have a choice, John. We have to do all we can to hold things together until someone finds a way to get through that Barrier.” She glanced at his face. “Have you been able to reach Roxanne?”
