The Dark Storm (11 page)

Riel gasped. He was quietly still trying to call his powers against Titus, but he had not the strength. Figuring he’d never overpower Titus, Riel tried diplomacy. “He called the Storm!” he croaked.

Titus loosened his grip. “Impossible. Petty lies will not undo your fate.”

“It is the truth,” Riel insisted. “Storm clouds danced in his eyes, master, as he slew an entire troop of Stalkers. I swear to it, Lord Titus; the Bishop himself spoke to me through the boy!”

Releasing Riel completely, Titus withdrew his hands from the mirror. They had taken back their normal forms, but the skin around the knuckles was a bit scorched. He studied Riel, measuring his words. “Tell me about this, offshoot,” Titus demanded.

Riel went on to recount the tale of the bookish young man he had clashed with earlier that night and the light that had threatened to send him to the same black place the Stalkers had gone. Of course he added his own twist and omitted the part about his calling Shadow’s Cloak to escape.

Titus doubted most of what Riel said had happened. Demons were excellent liars by nature. What Titus did know to be true was that the Nimrod has been awakened and with it the soul of the cursed Bishop. The reoccurring throbbing in Titus’ chest confirmed that. In the recesses of his mind he could’ve sworn he heard the Bishop laughing at him. But even with the Nimrod active and the Bishop’s soul stirring, the power was incomplete. Only with a willing and capable host could the Bishop cross the plains. There was still a chance that they could capture it, unless Riel spoke the truth and the fabled Nimrod had chosen. As unlikely as it might’ve sounded, Titus couldn’t deny feeling the power of the relic coursing through him.

Over the last few centuries the Nimrod had mostly remained dormant. It had passed through several hands, with most people mistaking it for just what it looked like, a broken fork. There was one instance when it had flared to life briefly, but before going back to sleep it ended up consuming the poor soul who had happened across it. If the trident had chosen a master, it could mean the beginning of another war. If they were on the threshold of another seven-day siege, then Titus knew he would need his most valued demon warriors at his side.

“Riel, you have served the order faithfully for centuries, and proven yourself to be more of an asset than a liability. It is for this reason alone that I do not cast you back into the fire to answer to Belthon,” Titus told him.

“Thank you, my lord,” Riel said, almost groveling.

“I don’t need your thanks, worm. I need results. I don’t care if you have to raise an entire cemetery to slay the boy and capture the trident, I want it!”

“Your will be done,” Riel said as his image faded from the looking glass.

“Incompetent,” Flag mumbled. Titus looked at him as if just realizing Flag was in the room. “Not you, Lord Titus. I was speaking of Riel,” Flag quickly explained.

“Flag, Riel has been shedding blood, human and demon, for longer than you or I have been alive. Though he failed to capture the Nimrod, he has just taught us two very important lessons.” Seeing the confused look on Flag’s face, Titus explained, “The first is the fact that the Nimrod is very much alive. The second is never underestimate an opponent. Riel thought because it was humans he was seeking that they would be weak, but magic can turn even the most timid sheep into a fierce lion. This mortal must be found and the Nimrod captured before the Bishop gains a foothold in this world.” There was no mistaking the nervousness in Titus’ voice.

“Should we inform Belthon?” Flag asked, praying Titus would say no. Flag’s master was a beast of a man, but the demon lord made him seem like a pussycat. Though the mage had been working closely with the Dark Order since he was a child, the more powerful entities always made him uneasy, even if they weren’t full demons.

“Not yet. I can’t see that a lone mortal is more powerful than the forces of hell, trident or not. We must formulate a plan, but first we will need answers. We’ll see what Leah says of this.”

“Sir, do you really think consulting her is necessary?” Flag stopped. His face suddenly wore a worried expression.

“Flag, surely you haven’t become that prejudiced that
you can’t stand the company of a sprite?” There was a mocking tone to Titus’ voice.

“Leah is more than just a sprite,” Flag grumbled.

“Indeed, she is the answer to our questions. Attend me, mage; there are plans to be laid,” Titus ordered, leaving his office.

The elevator took them two floors below the one that housed Titus’ office. Like most of the upper levels, this one could only be accessed by a card-key and boasted a state-of-the-art security system, but unlike the business-functional floors of the building, this reeked of magic … old magic. The unmarked floor was the most heavily guarded level of the building, including Titus’ own lair. The floors, walls, and ceilings had all been heavily warded with magic that was almost as old as civilization. Only Titus could call even a slither of magic while on this level; all others were neutralized. The greatest of care was taken when fortifying the unmarked level, but it wasn’t to keep others from getting in; it was to keep someone from getting out.

Two females dressed in military fatigues stood guard outside a sculpted bronze door. They were armed with high-caliber assault weapons, but if the wards didn’t hold their guest, then the guns would be useless. Inside the room there were two more guards, who were also females. Titus had seen the games his guest could play with the minds and hearts of men, even without magic, and he wasn’t taking any chances. The only man who was even allowed to enter the room unsupervised was Titus.

The inside of the room seemed totally out of place in
the office building. The entire eastern and western walls were screens that showed realistic views of downtown Ontario, which changed according to the time of day or season. No sun- or moonlight was allowed in the room. There were bookshelves filled with just about every kind of book, except those dealing with magic, not even fairy tales. Resting amongst the throw pillows of a large canopy bed, in the center of the room, was Titus’ guest and the object of Flag’s fear, Leah.

She was sitting on the bed, with her back to them and her knees gathered to her chest. From that angle all you could see was her spill of soft pink hair. Her shoulders were straight and proud even in light of her situation. She tilted her head, showing the beginnings of her keen nose and angular jaw, indicating that she had acknowledged their presence but would not give her visitors her full attention. Even in bondage, Leah still carried herself like royalty. “Titus.” She purposely left the title off his name as a sign of disrespect, but Titus wasn’t easily goaded.

“Good evening, Leah,” Titus said in an almost affectionate voice. “I trust you are well?”

“As well as can be … considering.” She raised her hand to point at the wards etched into the posts of her bed, letting the soft silk of her nightgown slide into a bunch about her elbow. Her pale skin seemed radiant even in the dim light. “Have you come to grant me my freedom or to taunt me further?” she mused.

Titus’ lips curled into a smile. “Come now, Leah. Has your stay here been that miserable? Have I not been a gracious and loving host?”

“Loving?” The air rippled slightly, blowing her hair like a gentle breeze. “Where is the love in caging me like an animal? Or clipping my wings?” She turned and faced them for the first time. Her doll-like face was hard, and fire danced in her molten gold eyes. “This is not love, Titus,
betrayer of his brother… . You’ve condemned me to hell!” At the force of her voice the wards flickered to life, illuminating the room in a dull glow. Flag stepped back, but Titus held his ground.

The tone of Leah’s voice was that of an adult, but her appearance was anything but. She was frail, with just the beginnings of breasts pushing out against the silk. Her full beauty hadn’t yet come to her, but she was still stunning. It wasn’t in an attractive way as yet, but more like seeing the sun rise for the first time. At the height of her glory Leah had been hailed in some cultures as a goddess, but thanks to Belthon’s magic she was a woman trapped in a child’s body.

“Leah,
hell
is such a relative term.” Titus approached the bed but didn’t get within arm’s reach. Though her magic had been suppressed within the child’s body, she could still inflict physical harm. “Besides, most women would kill for the chance to be forever young.”

“I
was
forever young.” She folded her slender legs beneath her. Though she seemed calmer, there was still murder in her eyes. “A woman who would be twenty for all time … a goddess, but you’ve robbed me of that.”

“I robbed you of nothing, dear girl, only delayed the maturation process of your powers,” Titus said as if it were all quite simple.

“By murdering me?” she said in an almost-pleading tone. “If I were myself, I would show you true hell, betrayer,” she hissed.

“I’m sure you would, Leah. And this is the reason you will never grown into womanhood,” Titus taunted her.

Like most sprites, Leah had a fascination with mortals. One of her favorite pastimes was masquerading amongst them. Leah would swap souls with a mortal girl and take a lover for a night or two. She never worried about the mortal making off with her body because without the sprite’s
spirit to insulate it from the lingering magical residue, the human would either literally go mad over time or combust. In that event Leah would keep the borrowed body and be re-made when it reached the proper age. It was during one of her little games that she ended up in the hands of Belthon.

The mortal lover she had chosen was a follower of the dark forces. They enjoyed wine and carnal sex all through the night and into the morning. While Leah slept in her borrowed body the forces of Belthon captured her. Belthon also knew the legends of the sprites, which was why he worked a dark spell on her. Every host’s body she had inhabited would be murdered before it could reach its twentieth year and replaced with another preteen girl. Leah would be old enough for her powers to be of use to the Dark Order but never old enough to become the goddess again.

“Enough reminiscing, I have need of answers that only you can give,” Titus told her.

Leah smiled warmly. “Lord Titus, you are a fool to think I will willingly help you. Murder this body again if you must, but I will not serve you or your master.” Leah sat back with her arms folded like that was the end of it.

“Oh, but I think you will.” Titus’ hand lashed out and he had the female guard by the throat. She struggled but was no match for him with his supernatural strength. Titus waved a hand across her exposed flesh, leaving a red welt as it passed. There was nothing at first, but within seconds blood started to pour over his hand from the wound.

“An offering.” Titus smirked, holding out his bloody hand. Blood dripped from his fingertips, splashing against the lavender bedsheets, almost hitting Leah’s bare foot.

“No.” Leah scampered farther back onto the bed, as if the blood would scald her. “I will not serve you!”

Titus dragged the guard over to the bed where Leah was cowering. “You don’t have a choice,” Titus said, before digging his fingers into the wound, causing the blood to spray in an arc, splattering the lace veil that covered the bed. “I make an offering, sprite. Blood and bone, that is the dowry.” Titus flicked excess from his fingers at Leah.

When the blood touched her skin she shrieked like she’d been scalded. The blood that had landed on Leah’s skin sizzled, before seeping into her pores. The corpse of the guard shook violently, as the rest of her blood spilled forth and as if by magic was sucked into the sprite’s skin. Soon there was no trace of the blood or the body of the guard, only Leah’s glowing form levitating slightly off the mattress.

“The tribute is accepted.” Her voice was rich with the power of the blood sacrifice. “Ask what you will at your own peril, and receive the goddess’s truth.”

“I seek the Nimrod, Goddess,” Titus said.

“As do all the forces of light and dark. The Nimrod has been unearthed and the Bishop sleeps no more. Three hundred years ago the Nimrod answered to the call of the Hunter as it does this night.” Her gold eyes seemed to glow brighter. “Even now the magic seduces him with whispers of its dark secrets. Beware the Dark Storm, Halfling.”

By now Flag was near the door, trying to fight off the panic attack he felt coming on. He had never been comfortable with feeding Leah’s power to call the visions, because he knew just how dangerous she could be, but Titus was confident that he could control the girl, as Flag had been until now. He could feel raw energy dripping off the girl and pushing against the wards. It seemed as the awakening of the trident was affecting even the oldest magics. Flag intended to suggest that they consider killing
Leah’s host earlier than scheduled when Titus was done with his questioning.

“I fear nothing but the dark lord himself.” Titus tried to sound confident. He could feel Leah’s power running up and down his skin like ghostly fingers. “I will command the Nimrod.”

The laugh that came from Leah rattled the bookshelves. “None may command that which no longer has a master. It was God who created it and it is revenge that fuels it. Magic like that cannot be contained or mastered, only conspired with, or have you forgotten what has become of your brother? Abandon your quest for the Nimrod, Halfling, for I see unholy blood spilled by its unforgiving strike. Heed well my warning, Titus, betrayer of his brother.”