The Dark Storm (14 page)

Akbar looked at Lydia but didn’t say anything. He allowed Redfeather to pass without more than a slightly distrustful glance, but the look Akbar gave De Mona was one of pure hatred. As she passed him she could feel an
icy chill emitting from his body. It was so intense that her arm started to go numb when she brushed against him to clear the doorway.
Definitely not human
, she thought to herself, and would make it a point to find out just what he was.

Redfeather went to offer his hand but, realizing that Lydia couldn’t see, withdrew it. “Thank you, young lady. My name is—”

“Yes, I know who you are, Mr. Redfeather. I may not be able to see, but my ears work just fine,” Lydia informed him.

“I … ah—”

“Don’t apologize, Mr. Redfeather; it was only a joke.” She smiled in his direction. “Akbar,” she turned to the giant, “could you see if Brother Angelo is available, please?” He mumbled something under his breath and went off to do as he was told. She turned back to Redfeather and De Mona. “We can wait in the chapel for Brother Angelo. If you’ll follow me.” She started forward.

De Mona followed Redfeather and Lydia through a door on the opposite side of the one that Akbar had disappeared through. The room was large yet cozy, equipped with a fireplace and comfortable chairs. There were several people sitting, reading, or talking amongst themselves. Some said “hello,” while others completely ignored the visitors. To De Mona’s surprise, they weren’t all human. She doubted that Redfeather had picked up on it, but there were several very strong demon presences gathered in the building.

They had gone down at least two levels when the stairwell emptied out into a circular foyer. Thin pillars ran from the ground up to the fifteen-foot ceiling. Symbols were etched into the pillars and the floor space directly below them. She recognized them from old texts her father used to show her. Each symbol represented a demon
line, but she could find the mark of the Valkrin nowhere. She wasn’t sure what her mother’s people had done, but from the way she was being gawked at she imagined she would find out before they left the place.

As they made their way to the other side of the chamber De Mona couldn’t help but notice several doors lining the walls. One of them was open and there were hushed voices coming from within. Curiously De Mona peeked inside. There was a man dressed in a leisure suit, speaking to someone De Mona couldn’t quite make out. The figure was standing partially in the shadows of the room, with a large hood obscuring her view of its face. Who- or whatever it was must’ve felt her intrusive glare and turned around. De Mona let out a small yelp as she saw the horns and ringed nose. The creature snorted something and rudely slammed the door.

“This way please,” Lydia said over her shoulder. De Mona’s eyes lingered on the door for a few more seconds before she followed her group.

Lydia continued to navigate the building, occasionally stopping to speak with someone. Though she didn’t appear to be any older than De Mona, everyone treated Lydia with great respect. As she walked she tapped her stick along the ground in an odd rhythm. Every time it made contact with the ground De Mona could feel power vibrating from it, which aroused her curiosity.

“That’s a pretty staff,” De Mona commented.

Lydia stopped and raised the stick to eye level as if she could see it. “Brother Angelo gave it to me, it originally belonged to my great-great-grandfather.” She traced her fingers along the runes, letting its familiar power run up through her fingers. “They say that he was one of the emperor’s greatest magicians.”

“So you’re some kinda witch?” De Mona asked, still admiring the staff.

“Me? No, my talents lie elsewhere.” Lydia smiled slyly, twirling the stick once before going back to her tapping. “It’s not much further,” she said, leading them through another door. Within this chamber was the chapel. It had been a great many years since Redfeather had seen the room, but it was every bit as amazing as it had been in those days. The chapel was easily the size of a small train station, with arched ceilings and hardwood floors. It actually resembled a real church with its wooden benches and altars, but the walls were adorned with symbols of every religion from both the mortal and supernatural worlds. Both man and mystic were represented in the chapel.

De Mona could feel the familiar energy of her people in the room and it made her almost giddy. She had gone to brace herself against one of the benches when her hand brushed against something soft. She looked at the bench but saw nothing. As she scanned the shadows her focus began to blur. It wasn’t as if something was wrong with her eyes, more like something was wrong with the space she was staring at. The shadows moved and a pair of eyes, so black that they appeared to shine, stared back at her. De Mona blinked and the eyes were gone.

Lydia led them farther down the carpeted aisle to a padded bench that sat in the shadow of the tallest of the altars. She motioned for them to be seated while she balanced her weight on her staff. “So, Mr. Redfeather—”

“Just ‘Redfeather’ is fine,” he interrupted.

“Sorry… . Redfeather, what brings you and …”

“De Mona.”

“Right… . What brings you and De Mona to Sanctuary? Have you come to petition for your people, or just yourself?” Lydia directed the last question at De Mona.

“Petition? No, I don’t even understand what’s going on. What did Mr. Clean mean by the Valkrin aren’t welcome?”

“I was going to ask the same thing.” Redfeather spoke up. “What has transpired that has made the warriors outcasts?”

“You mean you didn’t know?” Lydia’s face saddened. “I will tell you what I know about. It was the lesser demons who first started defecting. The demons that were too weak to be soldiers and had no stomach for war. As time went on some of the stronger ones began filing in. The Ghelgaths, the elementals, all the weary, came when they tired of the fighting. The number of demons coming to our side was surprising, but we got our biggest shock when Mercy showed up at our door to petition for refuge. The Valkrin were the strength of the dark hordes, so when she and the others came we thought we may have been on the cusp of ending a war that’s raged since the beginning of time. We learned a lot about the Valkrin during their time with us, especially Mercy. She and Edward helped out a great deal with acclimating some of the arrivals to the modern world and laws. Then one day the Valkrin begin disappearing.”

“What brought this on?” Redfeather asked.

“At first we thought that it was the work of the dark lords, punishing the warriors for betraying the order, but then the reports started coming in and we discovered the horrible truth about what had happened to the Valkrin.” She turned to where she heard De Mona’s rapidly beating heart.

“And what did you find out?” De Mona asked, not sure if she was ready for the answer.

Lydia took a breath before continuing. “The dark lords weren’t punishing them; they were calling them home. Our sources informed us that the dark forces were gathering, for what we still aren’t sure. The Valkrin left us to answer the call to arms. Those who didn’t answer the call and anyone close to them within the Order of
Sanctuary were destroyed. Mercy was amongst the first to leave us.”

“My mother?” De Mona asked in disbelief.

“Yes, that’s why when you showed up I thought that maybe she had sent you to broker a new peace.”

De Mona scoffed, “My mother bounced on us, so if she was down with this little uprising or whatever, I wasn’t in on it.”

Lydia’s brow creased. “She didn’t take you?”

“No, why?” De Mona asked.

“Because all the Valkrin are bound to combat; it’s one of their culture’s oldest traditions. If Mercy didn’t take you with her, then you must be a secret to the elders. To not stand beside your sisters in battle is punishable by death. I’m sorry; I thought you knew all this.”

De Mona shook her head. It seemed that every time she thought she had her mother figured out, something new was revealed to De Mona. Hearing all the new information about her mother and her people took De Mona back to the day she had discovered the truth about what she was. For her first eleven years on earth, she had been a happy little girl living a seemingly normal life, with two loving parents. Her mother, though always forceful and strong-willed, was every bit the television housewife, tending to things around the house while De Mona’s father worked to support them. One day she had been playing in the park near their house when a stray pit bull had wandered over. Not knowing any better, she tried to pet the dog, and it bit her. Seeing the blood all over her new white dress, De Mona went into shock.

The next few moments were fuzzy, but she could remember the smell of burning wood and the sound of whimpering. When she snapped out of it the dog lay crumpled at her feet, its neck at an uncomfortable-looking angle. When she went to touch the spot on her arm where
she had been bitten, she discovered that not only had the wound healed, but she had also changed. Her dainty hands were now gnarled talons and her skin as smooth as leather. When she touched the talons to her face, she felt the bumps under the skin on her forehead. De Mona tore off screaming for her mother, hoping that she could fix whatever was wrong, but was horrified when she reached her. Mercy’s face was no longer that of the loving mother De Mona had always known but the demon she had just discovered. After calming her, Mercy took De Mona home and together her parents told her the truth of what she really was.

When Mercy disappeared, De Mona’s father let her believe that her mother had just run off, but her sins went far deeper. In De Mona’s heart Mercy had abandoned not only her but also the very world that had taken Mercy in. De Mona had always been angry at her mother for leaving them, but to throw in her lot with the dark forces? It was no wonder Akbar hated De Mona, because at that moment she wasn’t sure how she felt about herself.

“As if I wasn’t a big enough loser already.” De Mona sagged in on herself.

“But as we teach here, one cannot be judged by the actions of their kin, only on individual deeds,” Brother Angelo said, strolling into the room with Akbar on his heels. Brother Angelo was a handsome man, who walked erect and proud. His hair was still as thick and as curly as Redfeather had remembered it, but it was now flecked with gray. Angelo was dressed in a tight-fitting black shirt, showing off his well-developed body. Along his thick arms he sported tattoos similar to the ones on Akbar’s face. Though Brother Angelo seemed normal enough, De Mona could sense there was a great power about him.

Brother Angelo Annapolis was what was called a High Brother, or Core. He was the living embodiment of the
power that dwelled within the Great Halls of Sanctuary, and leader of their order. Each house had a High Brother, but even amongst the others Brother Angelo was one of the most respected. Since birth he had been groomed to one day serve the order, as was their way. When Angelo was elected to his position he was bound by the oath and empowered by the magic trapped within the walls of the house. Because of the power within Sanctuary and the bond it created with the High Brothers, they could call on the power of the halls, as it could call on them in times of need. Though not quite immortal, they were very hard to kill.

Angelo nodded to Redfeather and gave De Mona a cordial smile. “Welcome, child of Mercy. What can we do for you here?”

“I … ah …”

“She was attacked by Stalkers,” Redfeather answered for the girl.

“Wow, you actually saw a real Stalker?” Lydia asked excitedly. “The closest I ever came was when we took this guy in who had been bitten. When he started going through the change from the infection Akbar had to—”

“Enough, Lydia.” Angelo raised his hand. “I don’t think now is the time to rehash old stories. Why don’t you go and see if Fin needs your help in the hall of prayer.”

“Brother Angelo, how hard could it be to wipe off the benches?”

“Good-bye, Lydia.” The girl sucked her teeth but left as she was told. When she was gone, Angelo turned back to Redfeather. “You know how teenagers can be.” Angelo shrugged. “Lydia has been under my care for almost ten years now and a ward of the Sanctuary since she was born.”

“Gabriel is slightly older than her.” Redfeather thought back on Gabriel, who still hadn’t woken. “He is the reason we’ve come here tonight.”

Angelo studied Redfeather for a minute. “The last time I saw him we were laying his father to rest.” Angelo crossed himself. “As I recall, you turned your back on the order and your duties shortly after.”

“Yes, Angelo. I understand that you may still hold some bitterness in your heart for my decision, but you have to understand my circumstances. I had lost my entire family to Belthon’s lot and I did not have the heart to send my grandson into the fire, as I had my sons.”

“None of us would, but to pretend that they are not amongst us is delusional, old friend. You know the legacy of your people.”

“Indeed I do. And it is the legacy of my people that has stirred the most disturbing of things, the Nimrod.”

Angelo’s smirk was suddenly washed away. “The Bishop’s prison? Impossible.”

“I wish that were so, Angelo, but it isn’t. The Nimrod has resurfaced and answered to the touch of my grandson,” Redfeather said seriously.

Angelo gave Redfeather a look that said he wasn’t quite convinced. “Redfeather, even if the Nimrod had resurfaced, only one of the Bishop’s line could wake his spirit, let alone control the thing. Anyone else would probably do little more than incinerate himself.”