The Summoner's Sigil

by Renee Sebastian

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  By the time we made it to the clearing surrounding Convent, the skies had visibly lightened, although the overcast was here to stay. As we arrived near the town, the pollution from it stained the gray sky around it to brown. It wasn’t nearly as bad as New Amsterdam, but for its size, it was bad enough.

  We looked downhill and the familiar orange brick wall was hardly noticeable with all the commotion going on around it. The Republic Reserves had gathered around it with trails of scorched earth surrounding them. Something terrible had happened since I had been here two days ago, as I studied the mounds of dead that littered the periphery of the camp.

  “What do you think is going on down there?” I asked Colin.

  “The city has been quarantined,” he replied.

  “What is that?” Calidum asked.

  “Shouldn’t there be sirens blaring then?”

  “It must not be declared a disaster yet. More than likely, the President is trying to keep it from reaching the presses or tickers. If she handles this poorly, Congress will be demanding her impeachment. These days they are dying for any excuse to do so.”

  “There was probably something about this in the mess of ticker tape that I left on the floor of my kitchen,” I added glumly.

  “Regardless, what would you like to do now?”

  “What is a quarantine?” Calidum asked again.

  “Something happened in Convent to make it no longer safe for anyone to enter Cali.”

  “But you’re not just anyone,” Calidum countered, “Right?”

  “You’re right. We’re not just anyone Calidum, and we’re going to get into that town.”

  ···•Ͽ Ѡ Ͼ•···

  “Mam, for the fifth time, you and your partner are not allowed to go in there,” the officer told us.

  As it turned out, the town had been merely sequestered, which was only one step down from an official quarantine. The troops had arrived only a few hours before we had, and the electricity that had fed the town had been recently been cut off as well.

  The dead bodies we saw piled up consisted mainly of twenty local police officers, which made up most of the constable’s office in Convent. There was some talk that the bodies might possibly be carrying a plague. Enlisted men walked around in rubber suits and held tongs that picked up bits of charred flesh that they put in metal boxes, presumably to test later.

  While the men in charge refused to discuss any more of the characteristics of the alleged plague or the battle that must have occurred shortly before we arrived, it was apparent that whatever had happened within Convent’s walls had shaken them to their core.

  In the entry station, they provided a new shirt and coat to Colin. Then we were served coffee and tea with two men who were on their break. I noticed that their hand’s shook when they brought their tea cups to their mouths. They weren’t chatty either, so it was an awkward ten minutes until they left.

  Once they did leave, I asked Colin, “What do you think we should do?”

  “I think that whatever is happening, the cause of it is in that town,” he said.

  “It is,” Calidum added staunchly, even though I hadn’t a clue how he knew that.

  “Why don’t they just bomb the city? That should take care of the problem,” I said logically.

  “I doubt they will, because to do so would imply that things had gotten so out of hand that to employ such a drastic measure to an entire city would show her weakness as a President. Besides, there would be the survivor payouts to consider, and they would be substantial.”

  I sighed and said, “Shouldn’t we wait for reinforcements?”

  He looked out the small window and said, “They’re here, but they aren’t going in.”

  “Very well. Let’s go talk to the captain of this mess.”

  We approached the battalion’s captain and I showed him my governor’s pass. At first, he refused me entrance, but relented when Colin claimed to be my bodyguard. I noticed that when Colin declared his wolf status, he didn’t bother to volunteer that it was a chiefly dormant trait.

  The captain led us to the gate’s door. Men stood along the battlements with long ladders lying across the ground. The captain informed us that they were going to wait for the official word before they chucked bombs over the wall. Once the gases settled, they would climb to the top to pick off any survivors.

  “I’ll not be responsible for your deaths,” the captain told us. “Even though your investigation may be sanctioned, let me warn you that should you become infested, you will be destroyed. We can’t let what is happening in there, happen out here.”

  “With all due respect sir, what precisely is happening in there?” I asked, since everyone had been so tight lipped with us earlier.

  “We don’t have much intel yet. What I can say is that there is only one word for what is going on in there, and that word is abomination. You have twenty-four hours to figure this out, and then we will be sending in the god squad.”

  The god squad was the name given to an elite group of munitions experts on the government payroll. They were often called in to handle messy cleanups, which usually required exterminations of beasties, animals, the undead, and humans alike. More often than not, they were the pardoned criminally insane, who found an outlet for their inner demons by destroying and killing things. These days, I was betting that most of them were recruited from the recently evacuated populace of the Dark Continent.

  “Do you think the person responsible for this calamity is still in there?” I asked Colin.

  “If there is a chance that he still is, then it’s worth the chance,” he told me.

  “At the very least,” I said, “We should be able to learn more about these human and demon minions they are creating.” Understanding them should allow us to understand their maker’s intent and maybe even his power.

  “Precisely.”

  “Good luck to the two of you,” the captain said and then he executed a hand gesture, which was followed by the opening of the gate. Just as we reached the town’s gate, the captain grabbed my arm and added, “Here take this you might need it.”

  He then released me and held out a brass sphere for me to take. “It’s a signal beam. We might be able to send in a dirigible, should you activate it,” he told me. “Of course, they’ll have to decide if you are worth saving first.”

  I took the sphere, stared him straight in the eye, and said, “Oh, I’m worth it.” After I pocketed it, the gate door opened just wide enough for us to squeeze through. Once in, I looked up into the burnt skies and thought that we had maybe four or five hours before nightfall.

  “Calidum,” Colin said.

  “Yes,” he replied. He had wrapped himself around my neck again, so his voice sounded quite loud in my ear.

  “I need for you to find us shelter for tonight and then return,” Colin asked him.

  “I only follow the instructions of my mistress,” he replied.

  “You think we’ll be here that long?” I asked, hoping that he would say no.

  “What if everyone has gone to ground?” Colin pointed out.

  “Hardly anyone has a basement in this parish. The water table is too high.”

  “What if we don’t find whom we are looking for before nightfall? Then what?” he asked. That was the question, wasn’t it.

  “I think we should find the Deist priest, then the Estonian pastor, and then finally the Mayor, in that order. If anyone knows what is going on in this town it will be them. The sooner we can be gone from this place, the better,” I told him.

  “All right, but in the meantime tell him to find us shelter, in case we need it Basil. I don’t want to be here tonight without a place to hide,” he insisted.

  I turned to Calidum and said, “Go. Find a place for us to stay the night, but start by going down this road first to see if the Château Cyprès is still open.” It was a long shot, but I had to try. “It’s down this road to the left.” I then spelled i
t out for him so he would recognize the letters. I watched him dash in the direction I had pointed, and then he climbed up to the top of the first building before disappearing out of sight.

  “Basil, I… I have something I need to tell you,” Colin suddenly said to me.

  “What?” I asked, as I turned around to face him. I looked deeply into his lovely gray eyes. He seemed so intense at times. He drew closer to me and his pine scent enveloped us.

  A window slammed from one of the Blackstone townhouses down the road, breaking the moment. Whatever he was about to tell me would have to wait. We had a town to save.

  “Can it wait?” I asked.

  He gaze was turned upward towards the windows when he replied, “Yes.” Then he took out his Strutt meter from his saddlebag that he had slung over his shoulder. He lifted it up to read any residual black body signatures from our immediate vicinity.

  Then he said something that surprised me. “The city has been cast in a circle.”

  “How do you know that for certain?” I asked.

  “Can you hear the men moving beyond the wall?”

  I listened, and true enough, it was as quiet as the grave. I turned around and walked over to the wall across the street. I examined where it was connected to the ground, but I didn’t see anything unusual.

  “Do you think the military did it outside the wall?” I asked.

  “I wouldn’t think that they’ve had enough time or Summoners on staff to do something this complex,” he quietly said. “Whomever casted it probably used the wardstones built into the wall to do it. That took time and privilege. This was an inside job.”

  It must have been someone who maintained the wardstones, or at least someone in cahoots with them. This went deeper than I would have thought possible for a sleepy little bayou town. How long exactly had this plan been festering in someone’s mind?

  “They are going to prevent the military from gassing or torching the town, aren’t they?” I asked.

  “I believe so, but why have they allowed us to enter then?” he asked.

  “They want you dead, don’t they?” I pointed out.

  He scowled and then asked, “Where is this Deist church?”

  “The Deist church is over there,” I said as I pointed straight ahead of us.

  “Won’t that be where all the Ordinaries would be? Shouldn’t we be focusing on the Users in order to find the Summoners who created the circle?”

  “You’ve never been to a southern Deist church meeting,” I told him. “Almost a third of them are Users.” He looked at me with a funny expression. With his wolf heritage, he would never have been allowed to join either of the major religious factions. Prejudices against the wolves ran even deeper than those who summoned for a living.

  “Besides, the Ordinaries should be more forthcoming with information, because they are a paranoid lot when it comes to the likes of us.” I thought back to Blake Morlock Jr. and considered if he or his father would be there. He said only two days ago that he had a shipment to make; so for his sake, I hoped he was long gone from this place.

  As we walked through the town of Convent, I was struck once again by the contrariness of the town, with its Gothic revival homes and businesses and its state of the art factories. It had been one of the earliest settlements in the Louisianan Territory. The first to settle here had been the French, followed by the free Germans.

  The stones were stained orange from the high iron content in the clay that made them, but most of the buildings had been painted in varying shades of dark colors to camouflage the air born smut with the most predominant color being black. Most of it came from the small coal burning electric plant located in the northern quadrant of this town.

  We walked close to the brick walls of the buildings facing the streets, keeping a close eye on every door or window, as they potentially hid our foes. Walking was slow and laborious, and I was unsettled by the eerie silence that filled the streets. I didn’t think that I had ever missed the sound of cranking wheels and spinning turbines as much as I did that day.

  I drew close to Colin and took his arm, and then we walked in purposeful silence to the church that was up ahead at the next juncture. The only problem was if they would open their doors to us.

  We passed by a dry goods storefront called Old Country Sundries. Its bloodied sign was hanging down crookedly from the chains above the door. I looked in its display window and saw bolts of fabric and trims for sale, which would have been nice if not for the bloodied brown handprints on them. The left side’s display was broken, and a lone screwdriver sat where there must have been a tool display once upon a time ago. This store must have been a one stop, his and her store.

  We next came to the corner market with rotting fruit on sale, three apples for two greenbacks. How could they have gone bad so quickly? I watched the carrion flies swarming inside the store as we hurried past it.

  Next, we passed by a few residential townhouses. When we passed one, with several bullet holes through the front door, a chamber pot was poured down on us from an upper window. Only Colin’s speedy reflexes swooped us away from the offending resident in time. How had this town declined to this extent in just a couple of days?

  Finally, we made it to the grassy knoll that held The Church of Noble Knowledge. In order to reach its blackwashed doors, we would have to cut through its cemetery, which was located at the back of the property. The windows of the church looked dark, but as it was still daytime, it was hard to tell if anyone was inside it yet.

  We opened up the old gate and its rusty hinges screamed out in protest. A heavy mist had begun to descend on the town, most likely from the river. I looked carefully for any obvious vandalism or violated vaults, and fortunately, I didn’t see any.

  We made it to the church, and then we walked up the short stairs to the back door. While Colin kept an eye behind us, I knocked hard on the door with the butt of one of my athames for the span of a minute. For a brief moment, I had wished Wendy had shown me how to pick locks, but in this case, I was glad I didn’t know how. Whoever was inside might kill us first and ask questions later.

  “I know you’re in there. Let us in!” I called out as loud as I dared.

  I heard someone say, “Hush,” and then silence.

  “They are going to bomb this place, if we can’t sort this town’s troubles out by this time tomorrow,” I told whoever was hiding behind the door.

  I listened to some shuffling and muffled talking, before finally hearing someone just on the other side of the door ask, “Who are you?”

  “We are the only rescue crew you are going to get,” I told him.

  “Name?”

  “Miss Basil Beckenbauer.”

  Then further back in the church, I heard a woman say, “We’re all damned to hell, what can it hurt to open the door to the devil Ulysses.”

  I heard the lock turn, and then we were allowed into an inner ring of hell.

  Chapter 11

  Clockwork Mummies

  Rule number nineteen: A machine has never been made that could hold a demon.

  There were only about ten people in the room, and none of them was wearing any vestments, which meant Father Chaput wasn’t here. If that wasn’t bad enough, each of them were pointing pistols, rifles, or shotguns our way, including the smallest of them, a five year old boy with greasy brown hair. He was brandishing a sawed off shotgun.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  “What is a devil’s child doing here?” a man asked.

  “I’m Basil Beckenbauer, my father is Mortimer Beckenbauer, and I’ve never seen the Devil. Have you?”

  “You’re the Summoner?” the eldest of them said, a woman with her hair scraped up into a hard, tiny bun on top of her head. She looked to be in her seventies.

  “Yes, the one and the same.”

  She spat to the side of her and said, “I reckon’ the likes of you made this mess.”

  “Now Agnes, we know Basil, she’s one of our own, even if
her family hasn’t come to church as often as they should have,” a man in his mid-fifties replied. “She at least, has been out of the country for months. It couldn’t have been her.”

  “If the papers are to be trusted,” she snapped back at him. “If it weren’t for her kind, we wouldn’t be in the thick of things that we are now, is all that I’m saying.”

  “Need I remind you, what with all the dead walking around, a Necromancer was needed too,” a teenage girl with raven black hair sourly replied. “Asides, I believe she is a national hero.”

  “Too important to show up for her own welcome party,” Agnes said as she glared at me.

  “That was a misunderstanding,” I tried to assuage her.

  “What happened in the past, matters little today,” Colin said. “Where are all these undead that you are referring to? We haven’t seen any ourselves.”

  They looked at each other, but didn’t answer his question.

  “Who’s he?” Agnes asked, allowing her mistrust of strangers to overshadow her dislike of me.

  “He’s my bodyguard,” I told them.

  “Is he a wolf?” the man asked.

  “Yes,” I answered tentatively. Fortunately, the reputations of the wolves hadn’t deteriorated this side of the pond as much as they had in London. Rogue packs had run the streets there when they lost their wards during the Neverland assault.

  Everyone lowered their guns, and then the man said, “It really is her. She’s gonna’ fix this for us, ain’t ya’ girl?”

  “I’m going to try. I don’t take too kindly to trespassers in my own backyard either,” I replied smartly, quoting Colin. The teenager smiled, and I thought I might have found my first true admirer.

  “Where is Father Chaput?” Colin asked.

  “You don’t want to be going down in the catacombs sir,” the boy answered.

  “There are catacombs below the church?” I asked. I hadn’t known that little nugget.