by Barry Reese
“Thanks.” Jennifer shifted, taking a step back from the woman before her head got too cloudy to think straight. “So what does bring you here?”
“Most of the mystic bigwigs are dead, Jen.”
“I know.”
“That only leaves a handful of experienced mages out there, alongside all these new practitioners that are popping up. Every housewife from here to Kent is working on a love potion or two.”
“It’s not quite that bad but I know what you mean. We can’t keep anything magic-related in stock for more than a few days. But what are you getting at? Why are you chatting me up?”
Suspira reached out and took Jennifer’s hand in hers. “Because the time’s ripe for somebody to step in and fill the void. If your buddy Byron hasn’t clued you in, I will: Catalyst is back but he’s weak and he’s on the outside of the Barrier. Inside this damned thing, it’s like the Old West... somebody’s gonna step up and be the Sheriff. It’s our time, Jen—you, me, and whatever chicks we can rope in with us.”
“Chicks... ?”
Suspira leaned in so close that her lips brushed against Jennifer’s ear as she whispered, “Why let the warlocks keep having all the fun? I think it’s time we witches took power for ourselves. What do you say, girlfriend? You ready to make a play?”
***
Stacy Allen sat outside the Ancient Tomes bookstore, seated at one of the small tables set up for their customers. She watched in amazement as a portly man soared high overhead, his reptilian wings jutting forth from his back. He was joined after a moment by a pair of small pseudo-dragons that seemed to enjoy the relatively calm day as much as the man did.
True to Gideon’s word, Byron and Jennifer had been able to drive the Furies from Stacy’s body... though she could still feel the icy presence of their souls within hers.
Still, she was free... and that had to count for something. She’d been heartbroken when she’d learned that Daniel’s resurrection had been a trick, but she’d understood why Gideon had done it.
Sighing, Stacy picked up a pencil and resumed writing in a small diary that she’d snagged from the shop.
Dear Daddy –
I always knew that London would be different from Brooklyn, but I never thought it would be this different. The Barrier is supposedly starting to spread over the rest of Europe now... If we don’t watch out, it might end up covering the whole planet. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad, though—might cut down on the food shortages and the electricity rationing and the folks that are yelling for us to convert to using more magical sources of energy. There’s been two riots since Jennifer helped free me from the Furies’ control and more are coming. I can feel it.
God, it’s so scary over here. I don’t know if the Furies will take me over again and I don’t know when or if I’ll ever see you.
And I still miss Daniel. I don’t know if that pain will ever go away but I hope it does. I don’t know how much more I can take.
She set down the pencil and frowned. Would her father ever get these letters? Did that matter? Not really, she finally decided. She needed to talk to him somehow and this was the closest that she could manage at the moment.
And then it happened.
A burst of extreme fear suddenly shot through her, making her chest tighten and her breath seize up in her throat. She saw a man nearby fall to his knees, a high-pitched squeal coming from him. All around, others felt the sudden touch of icy horror: some soiled themselves, others shouted to their god for salvation.
The reactions were as varied as the clothing they wore but all felt the effects.
Jennifer, followed swiftly by Suspira, burst forth from inside the store. The awful sensation of terror was beginning to fade but Jennifer saw that Stacy was still shaking, her eyes wide. She knelt beside the other girl and hugged her reassuringly. “Stace... What happened? Did you see anything?”
Stacy forced herself to take a deep breath. She saw the concern in Jennifer’s eyes and for a brief moment, she thought she almost saw some of Daniel in there. “I think... God, I hope I’m wrong.”
“Tell me, sweetie.”
“I’ve felt something like this before—and it was caused by the Scaremaster.”
Jennifer chewed her lower lip, thinking of the metahuman serial killer that had tormented Daniel Higgins and Babylon in the past. The madman had been horribly abused as a child and had taken it upon himself to release the fear in others, often by cutting them open in an attempt to “free” the terror. “It can’t be him,” she said to Stacy. “If Scaremaster had been trapped inside the Barrier, his murders would have hit the news by now—his killings are always dramatic. Whatever this is, it’s different.”
Releasing her hold on Stacy, Jennifer stood up and looked around for some sign of what could have caused the awful sensation. All she saw were the horrified faces of the innocent. “Suspira, I’ll call you later tonight, okay? Stacy, I’m taking you home.”
Stacy rose, already beginning to shake off the fear. She was made of stern stuff. “And then what?”
A gleam appeared in Jennifer’s eye. “Then Babylon comes out to play.”
Chapter XII Wrong Decisions
Babylon strode through the flaming wreckage of what had once been a thriving meth lab, ignoring the bullets that ricocheted off his armor. With a voice that echoed of Hellish intent, Babylon bellowed, “Cease your attacks! There can be no escaping the punishment you deserve!”
Dominic Valance peered over the edge of an overturned table, noticing that his right hand was shaking so badly that his gun was nearly out of his grasp. Another explosion rocked the house, making Dominic’s ears ring in the aftermath. Flames were everywhere and the various chemicals that were now spilled on the floor posed a threat in more ways than one: not only were they highly explosive but many of them were dangerous if inhaled.
The smoke that was generated by the explosion obscured Dominic’s vision, causing him to lose sight of his enemy. Worse yet, his eyes were now burning and filled with tears.
Dominic had no idea how Babylon had found him or why, though he suspected that the recent rash of deaths on the streets had something to do with it. Dominic had mixed in a bit of fairy dust into the most recent batch of drugs he’d sent out, hoping to give his buyers a unique thrill. Unfortunately, the ground bone meal that he’d produced from the slaughter of two-dozen fairies had led to serious side effects for those that had ingested them.
Dominic began to back away, hoping that he could somehow make it into the back room and out the exit there. “Go away, you bloody freak!”
“And where would you like me to go, despoiler of innocence?”
Dominic felt himself back into something that felt as immovable as a brick wall. He turned around to see Babylon looking down at him, his eyes as deep and dark as any stygian crypt.
“Oh, Christ,” Dominic whispered.
“Do not pray for forgiveness—there is to be none!” Babylon seized Dominic by the neck, lifting him off the floor. Cosmic energy flooded into the man’s body, causing him tremendous pain, but not all of it was physical. Mixed with the fiery agony was the knowledge of how his crimes had impacted their victims... and that pain was far worse.
While Dominic twitched in his grasp, the man once known as Gideon Black felt both elated and disgusted. He took a strong pleasure in bringing punishment to those that were deserving but he also knew that his cosmic energy could be a horrible weapon, one capable of destroying the minds and bodies of men.
I wouldn’t worry about it, Gideon, Jennifer’s voice said in his head. This guy brought it on himself, remember?
Yes, but is there never to be an end to this? Is there no way for me to help prevent evil before it happens? Even though the guilty are punished, his victims will never regain what they lost!
Jennifer’s mute reply only served to further drive Gideon to despair. He tossed Dominic to the side, letting the drug lord crumple to the floor. Dominic’s eyes were wide open but unfocused, his hands cu
rled into claw-like extensions.
Babylon drew the flames into himself, dousing the fire and allowing the heat to momentarily increase the temperature of his body before it dissipated.
Gideon had been more reflective than usual and perhaps that was why he now thought he heard his lost love, Magdalena, screaming out his name. Gideon’s owner—Magdalena’s father—had condemned them both to die as punishment for their interracial relationship. Gideon thought he’d hear her screams for all eternity and he felt Jennifer trying to draw him back into the void, obviously afraid of the powerful emotions that she sensed in Gideon. He refused her, retaining control of their fused form.
Stepping out of the building, Babylon saw that the local authorities had arrived on the scene. Many of them brandished weapons, obviously afraid that he might be a threat... Babylon strode toward a man that looked to be in charge.
“The man inside is responsible for the recent drug-related deaths.”
The officer, a stout man with a shock of red hair and piercing green eyes, nodded slowly. He, unlike most of the men around them, did not appear to be afraid of the armored figure. “Too bad you didn’t leave any bloody evidence, you dumb sod.”
Babylon leaned closer to the officer, cosmic energy dancing dangerously close to the man’s face. To Gideon’s surprise, the cop stood his ground. “If your men move quickly, they will find more than enough evidence for your courts. And once he comes out of his stupor, he will talk... often and at length. He will want to share his misdeeds and accept his punishment.”
“Is that so?” The officer reached into his overcoat and pulled out his credentials, which he shoved into Babylon’s face. “The name’s Eisner. Remember it, because if I see you in my jurisdiction again, I’m going to call in The New Olympians and tell them to drag their arses over here and take care of you. I don’t like you, Babylon. I don’t respect you. And I find your supernatural riff a bit over the bleeding top.” Eisner poked Babylon in the chest, adding, “So. Back. Off.”
They stood toe-to-toe for a moment before Babylon lifted off into the air. He looked down at Eisner, saying, “I am not your enemy.”
“If you say so.”
Babylon glanced over at Dominic Valance, feeling a strange sense of foreboding. Since the wave of fear that had hit the bookstore, several more similar events had tormented the United Kingdom... it was as if the very Earth was shuddering in terror. This, among other things, had led to Babylon’s current state of mind, and when he saw that the drug dealer was beginning to smile, despite the trembling of his limbs, Babylon grew even more concerned. “Watch him carefully.”
Eisner waved a hand dismissively and turned away from the hero. “Righty-o,” he murmured.
Babylon soared over Eisner’s head, flying so low that the investigator jumped in alarm. Gideon knew that such an action was hardly going to change the man’s opinion of him, but it felt good anyway.
Gideon! Jennifer chided playfully. Are you developing a playful side?
Jennifer felt Gideon’s embarrassment and she realized that since his transformation into Babylon, he’d rarely had the opportunity to experience much beyond fear, anger, and a burning desire for retribution.
My merger with you is different than ones I’ve had in the past, Gideon said. He was flying over the city now, passing through the clouds. No two mergers have been alike and yet... you stand alone.
Do you like it? she asked.
Gideon paused. I think that Topaz was right in choosing you. By merging with a willing host, I am able to experience far more through you than I ever have with others. And you are able to assist me even in my form as Babylon. We are... a good team.
Thanks, big guy.
They flew on in silence for the next several minutes, simply enjoying the act of patrolling the city. It was so beautiful from above that it was almost easy to forget all the chaos.
Babylon landed outside a rather dingy-looking apartment building on the east end of London. There were only a few lights inside and they flickered wildly, leading Babylon to assume that they were candles.
He was approaching the door, his silver body outlined by the blue highlights of his armor, when a woman leaned out of one of the windows over his head. “Gideon! Think you could tone down the blue lights, bud? I’d rather not attract too much attention.”
Babylon looked up at her. She wore a barely-there mesh top and a black bra, making Gideon wonder how she could possibly expect to avoid attracting attention when she dressed like that.
Nevertheless, Babylon willed the transformation to begin and within a moment, Jennifer stood panting on the building steps, a damp sweat making her hair curl. After running a hand through the tangled mass, Jennifer fought down the brief sensation of nausea she sometimes felt after the transformation. She looked up to see that Suspira was still watching her, a smirk on her face. Jennifer grinned in return. “Want me to come on up?”
“Sure thing, girlfriend, but the better question is this one: Are you ready to become Ms. Numero Uno in the supernatural community?”
Jennifer pursed her lips thoughtfully. Suspira had designs on gaining a higher status for the two of them in the name of “girl power” but Jennifer wasn’t sold on it just yet. “How about you make me a rum and coke? Then we’ll talk.”
Suspira winked before vanishing back inside. “You got it.”
***
Michael Bolan would have cried out if he had still possessed enough strength to do so. Instead, he merely thrashed about in his chains, his eyes bulging as the pain raced through his weary bones. The chains that bound his wrists and ankles had burrowed into his flesh, leaving trails of blood down his limbs. The scent of death hung teasingly in the air.
The man that stood before him, dressed in a long black coat that accentuated his lithe form, watched with mounting impatience.
A burning brazier was all that lit the abandoned metro station, casting lengthening shadows on the graffiti-lined walls. A rather crude image of Margaret Thatcher engaged in sexual relations lined one wall, with the slogan “Still screwing us all” scrawled underneath.
Bolan kept turning his eyes to the drawing, trying to focus on it instead of his awful situation. The man known as Flay nudged Bolan’s leg, drawing his attention back to him. “The world today, with all the magic that’s loose in the land... it’s such a smashing piece of work, isn’t it? Magic floods back into the old lands, enchanting one and all. Do you know that the last time I walked on the face of the world, the Black Death was still spreading through Europe? And now this Barrier frees me once more... So very nice.”
Bolan forced words out past his cracked lips. He muttered, “I don’t know who you are and I don’t give a shit.”
Flay flicked his wrist and Bolan twitched once more. Flay’s tongue flicked out, snakelike, to taste the air. He seemed to gobble down Bolan’s pain and fear like candy. “No profanities, giver of false retribution. It offends me. I am a demon of high standards.”
Flay had captured Retribution just days after Bolan had aided Babylon in capturing The Furious. Flay had wanted a powerful target upon which to test his renewed strength and he sensed that Retribution would provide that in spades.
The first stage, of course, had been to peel away the mystic armor that covered Bolan’s human form. Flay reached into the brazier, ignoring the pain as flames licked his flesh. His hand reappeared with a small globe in its palm, illuminated from within by magic power. Bolan could see the armored face of Retribution within the sphere. “The old ways are reborn,” Flay whispered, seeming to address the globe more than Bolan. “Retribution shall be handed out by demons and High Lords—creatures such as you will no longer be needed. One by one, I shall hunt down you false deities and I shall cast you into the pit of destruction.”
Bolan watched in mounting horror as Flay brought the globe up in both hands, holding it over his head. Since his transformation into Retribution, he’d seen and done so many things, but nothing compared to this pain that he now
felt. Who or what this Flay was, he couldn’t fully comprehend, but he recognized the potential for final death—and he almost welcomed it. “Gideon’s going to kick your skinny ass,” he said, forcing a show of bravado. “He’s going to drag you from one end of England to the other.”
Flay laughed, a dry sound that reminded Bolan of sandpaper being rubbed together. “You think I fear any of the Blacks? Then you are foolish, human. I have tapped into the general unease that has begun to permeate England. I have given it new power. It comes in waves now, assaulting all that it touches. It grows stronger every day. Soon all the land will be alive with horrible fear and despair, and then the eyes of man will turn to new saviors... and my kind will be waiting to answer their plea. Unfortunately for you and the Blacks, there is to be no place in the new order for you.”
Flay hurled the globe against the wall and it shattered against the scrawled face of Margaret Thatcher. A dull roar filled the room as the magical construct once known as Retribution dissipated from the mortal plane.
Michael Bolan closed his eyes tightly, feeling a new emptiness in his soul. He was alone. Human. Gone was the power and the savage grace that had marked his existence as the host for Retribution.
And then he heard a scraping sound, metal against metal. Opening his eyes, he saw Flay drawing forth a sword from an ancient scabbard. The blade gleamed darkly, its steel seeming to soak up the room’s light.
Flay moved forward, pressing the tip of the blade against Bolan’s throat. “Now you can die like any other mortal, Mr. Bolan. Do you want to beg? Do you want to mewl like a kitten? Or do you wish to cast one last great act of defiance in the face of overwhelming defeat?”
