The Burn (25 page)

"Once this world is gone, there'll be no way to get it back," she replied softly. "We'll be eclipsed by a higher species. You think that's what he wanted?"

Pete frowned, flicking his gaze toward the night tinged horizon. "Okay. Let's go light that thing up."

* * *

The Divine Gate camp appeared deserted. Wood had been piled into the blackened oil drums along its parameter. Long banquet tables had been prepared in the grand arena and blue lights twinkled in welcome from the DJ stage, but the camp itself was silent, awaiting the frenzied rush that would follow the burn.

Two cloaked figures mulled at the entrance to the main tent, their attention drawn to the neon shadow of the Man in the distance. They stared at it, exchanging mumbled comments before huddling to light and share a cigarette.

Miranda slipped behind them and ducked into the shadows under the tent flap. Pete followed closely behind her, his footfalls silent in the soft dust.

She crouched down close to the wall and reached back to check the position of the fabric shoulder bag she carried. The small block of Semtex had been wrapped inside, as stable as Play-doh until the blasting cap went off.

"Okay," Pete whispered. "Now what?"

She held up her hand to silence him.

The whispering of the Gate was louder now. The music of the symbols drifted through the gloom, warning of fear and pain, of something terrible happening within its golden chambers.

She pressed her lips together, sweeping her gaze over the structure itself. It rose above her, its narrow passages and metal cloisters glowing with lantern light.

"There's something wrong," she whispered.

"What? Like what?"

"I don't know."

"Christ."

"Keep going," she insisted, jabbing her finger toward the metal supports. "Lay your charge and get out. I'll place the other one inside the central chamber, then slip out to make sure you're clear."

"Yeah."

"If I don't show…"

"I know what to do, okay?" he said, the recrimination softly spoken.

She nodded, grasping for the right words. Nothing came.

"It's been an honor working with you too, kiddo," he said, moving past her. "So let's not ruin it now. Save your goodbyes for someone who'll enjoy getting' gushy with you. I'm carrying explosives, in case you forgot."

He ducked past her, ignoring the narrow plank bridge that fed into the arched entryway of the Gate. Creeping along the ground underneath it, he passed into the shadow of the structure and fished a penlight from his jacket, disappearing from view a moment later.

"Good luck," she whispered.

Pushing out from the wall, she stepped onto the wooden planks of the bridge and crossed them quickly. The arched entrance of the Gate rose above her and she slipped into the softly glowing corridor beyond it.

The metal thrummed around her, the immensity of power here growing by the second. Lifting her hand, she swept her fingers through the warm air, watching it swirl and crackle with luminescence. It seemed as thick as water now, the songs of other goddesses lilting softly through it, calling to another world.

She frowned, something else, something darker.

"Where is the Necromancer?" she asked.

The symbols on the wall whispered in reply, their emotions threading together like music.
Resurrection. Damnation.

"Resurrection…" she murmured, following their voices to the grate under her feet. The Necromancer was on the lower floor.

She grimaced, knowing that she could allow her human form to slip away and filter down through the metal, but it would mean leaving the Semtex charge behind. The only way to keep hold of the explosive was to remain in physical form. Shaking her head, she focused on the stairway at the end of the corridor.

A cry of pain issued from the lower floor, its tone sharp and distinctly male.

She felt her heart stop.

Another brutal sound echoed around her, its emotion strong enough to blind her senses. She recoiled against the wall. "What the hell is going on down there?"

Forbidden.

Shaking her head, she knelt along the grate and pried it up with her fingers, raising the floor section out of the way. She swung her legs into the dark opening, allowing them to dangle loosely until her feet found the smooth metal underneath.

She remembered the passage well enough, remembered tumbling down and spilling out of it with Logan's weight propelling her forward. This time it was different, easier to control the movement of her physical form within the Gate.

Releasing her hold, she slid silently along the metal, slowing as a small archway came into view.

Light glowed from the golden chamber on the other side.

A chamber for the damned. The place where the souls do not sing.

She crawled forward, angling her view past the lip of the tunnel. The room outside was round, just as she remembered, with the same symbols marked along the golden wall. She caught a glimpse of movement.

Another harrowing yell of agony cut the air.

Miranda winced, slipping out a little further. The Necromancer stood in the center of the room with his back turned toward her.

A section of the floor grating had been removed and he stood at the edge of the hole that had been created, bared to the waist and bleeding.

Miranda pressed her lips together, confused.

He didn't appear to sense her presence, his focus set on the hole in the floor, his body held rigid, the silky white stream of his hair cascading between his shoulders, obscuring a bleeding injury from view.

He raised his arms. A dagger caught the light. He jolted forward, stabbing the blade into his own stomach. Blood spilled along the grate.

Another cry issued from the center of the room.

She narrowed her gaze, realizing that the sound had not actually come from the Necromancer at all, but from the hole at his feet. It was someone else's pain, someone else's suffering.

"Remember your death," the Necromancer sneered. "Wake and remember! Your master calls you to rise."

A figure appeared from the hole, rising naked in the soft glow of the lantern. He was tall, his body heavily muscled and bleeding, his blonde hair wild around his shoulders.

The Khagan.

The Necromancer was resurrecting his slave.

"You have been bested, great warrior," the Necromancer taunted. "Cut down and returned to your eternal slumber by a goddess with only half your skill. You must now hunt her and bring her back to me, kill her companions."

The Khagan shook his head, glaring at the figure above him. "You betrayed me, Asmud—"

"That life is over. You are part of a greater destiny now, like the rest of us. You will remember only that, only your purpose and only your master."

"You are not the true master here."

The Necromancer jabbed the dagger into his own flesh, spilling more blood. Beneath him, the Khagan arched and cried out, his large body strained.

"My blood to yours," the Necromancer murmured, smearing a crimson stripe across the symbol on the wall. "To bind you here and allow you to rise from your body once more."

Body?
Miranda shook her head, realizing that the hole in the floor grate was not empty. The Khagan had been preserved, just as she had, in order to take human form in a human world. The warrior gasped for breath, his head thrown back, the muscle in his shoulders and arms held tight.

"You feel your own guilt now," the Necromancer suggested, crouching along the floor grate. "You are damned forever, Swava, with only me to hear you. I am your master and your only hope of redemption. In the world that I will create, your crimes will be forgotten, your eternal pain ended. I promise you this mercy, in honor of the years I spent as your tutor."

The Khagan bowed his head, his teeth bared.

"You do not have the power to resist," the Necromancer reminded him. "Your freedom is a memory, your intellect an illusion. It slips away from you, even now. You are a servant."

The Khagan seemed to struggle with that, as if his memories were far too real to be taken from him, but his expression slowly eased, the intense blue of his eyes fading to become something vacant.

The Necromancer's slave had been reborn.

Armor formed on his body, appearing to rise from his skin and harden to leather and metal. His helmet rose over his head and molded itself around his face, forming the expressionless golden prison of his mask. He stood before his master, a nightmarish statue come to life.

"She is close now," the Necromancer said darkly. "Can you feel her?"

The Khagan turned, glaring at Miranda through the narrow slits in his mask.

"Shit," she whispered, sliding back into the shadows.

It was too late.

The Khagan leapt forward with catlike agility. He swung his sword, its ghostly blade slicing through the metal passage. She heard it hiss as it swept toward her through the walls. She ducked, charging forward into the room.

The grate spread out before her and she collapsed on its surface, stopping herself before the opening in the floor.

Beneath her, the Khagan's ancient corpse appeared in the lantern light. Her gaze darted over the skeleton, its frail collection of bones wrapped in silks, jeweled weapons and gold.

Then his ghost was above her, heaving his sword high into the air.

She tumbled backward, seeing only a flash of the blade as came too close. The tip cut through her shoulder, misting blood, as she fell into the pit with his body. She cried out, struggling to rise.

"You have served your purpose, beautiful Miranda," the Necromancer said as he appeared above her, his white hair forming an eerie halo in the lantern light. "Now you must return to your rightful place, the sanctuary of your own name within the Divine Gate."

"I refuse," she growled.

He granted her a knowing smile, speaking the words that would imprison her, whispering them as if they were sacred.

She clenched her teeth, feeling the pain of her human death surfacing from her skin, blood welling hot, her body's strength draining away.

"No," she breathed. "I won't let you."

"You do not have a choice."

"I do," Pete's voice sounded behind him.

A gun blasted inside the room.

The Necromancer arched, his body thrown forward as a line of bullets punched through his chest. Pete fired through his clip. The sound of his .45 cracked from the walls, the acrid smoke of live fire thick in the air.

The Necromancer fell to the grate and twisted, growling in pain. His warrior turned toward Pete.

"Run!" Miranda yelled.

The Khagan swept his sword up and disappeared from view.

She heard Pete's gun click empty.

"Pete." She pushed up, her strength returning as she jumped up onto the floor grates. The Khagan appeared before her. He batted Pete's gun away with one hand, then ran his sword through the smaller man's stomach with the other.

Miranda screamed.

Pete dropped to his knees.

The Khagan raised his sword again.

She charged forward, leaping onto the warrior's back. He lost balance and she twisted, hurling them both to the floor grate. He crashed onto the metal. She rolled with the impact and ended up on her feet. He followed her as she sprung, his big hand catching her by the shoulder.

Pete lay unconscious before her. The Necromancer rose from the shadows, his wounds healing swiftly in the dim glow.

Rathvam voices rose in warning.
Go, Miranda!

She shook her head. "Pete."

Go!

She couldn't fight them both. She knew that. There was no choice. Miranda cried out, the sound raw through her teeth, and willed her body to dissolve. She felt herself grow light, her soul sweeping down through the metal and into the cool air of the desert. She slipped through the wind, lost in the echo of voices across the playa, the glow of the Man beckoning in the distance.

S
he took shape at the edge of Seth's camp, her body forming from darkness and wind. The tents around her were silent. The roads were empty. From the open playa, cheers and whistles rose from the mass of people surrounding the Man. She narrowed her gaze, watching as the glitter of fire appeared at the giant statue's feet, licking its ankles with bright hunger.

The gathering whooped and sang around it, their bodies forming a dark ocean of movement, alive with dancing fire and cold neon, thumping with drums and loud speakers.

"A few minutes now," Julie said from behind her. "And it will be over. The fireworks packed inside the Man will start going off and the whole thing will burn to the ground."

Miranda shut her eyes, not wanting to see it.

"Where is Pete?" Julie asked.

"You have to get out of here." Miranda summoned the words with difficulty. "You have to get as far away as possible."

There was a pause. "Where is Pete?"

"He's gone."

"What do you mean 'gone'?"

"You have to leave."

"Leave?"

"Go."

"Go where?" Julie asked. "Where is it going to be safe, Miranda? When he gets his way and we've all been turned into slaves to satisfy them…when we're living with demons and monsters all around us. Where is it going to be safe?"

Miranda had no answer for that. She pressed her lips together, watching as the fire in the distance climbed higher, casting a heated glow across the starlit sky.

Julie was crying behind her. "Jesus, you can't just stand there! Our entire world is about to end! You can't just watch. You're supposed to protect us."

"I can't. I can't protect you."

"Miranda!"

"You have to go. You—"

"He's here."

"What?" Miranda looked back over her shoulder in alarm.

The woman gestured excitedly, covering her mouth with one hand and pointing at the wreckage in the sand with the other. "He's here. Seth. Look!"

Miranda followed her wild jabbing motions to the metal plate that had been cut with Seth's eternal name. A faint glow now appeared in the curves and lines, a trace of divine energy seeking release.