The Dark Storm (30 page)

“Myths don’t generally get people killed,” De Mona said.

Jackson unsheathed and retracted one of his blades. “That all depends on who you ask.”

“No, my friend, it’s real. Real and loose somewhere in New York City,” Redfeather said.

“You getting this, Jonas?” Morgan asked into his earpiece.

“
Yeah, and cross-searching it against the database
,” the static-filled response came through.

“Who the hell is Jonas?” De Mona questioned.

“A friend,” Jackson said, not bothering to elaborate. They still didn’t know how far they could trust the demon or her mortal companion.

“Being that we’re sharing information, what are your stories?” She looked from Morgan to Jackson.

“Me, I was a victim of the ghetto,” Jackson joked.

Morgan was more serious with his reply: “Like the rest of you, we have been touched by the forces of hell one way or another. Jackson,” he nodded at his companion, “was carved up and left to die, by some nasty little bastards that are no longer amongst us.”

De Mona leaned forward and rested her arms on the backrests of the front seats. Morgan’s eyes twitched uncomfortably, so she leaned in closer. “And you, what’s your story?”

“I don’t have one,” he said, trying to focus on the road. His fist gripped the wheel so tight that his knuckles were starting to turn white.

“Bullshit.” De Mona took in his tangy odor. “Even if it weren’t for the fancy hammer, I’d know one of my own.”

“I’m not one of yours, girlie. There are no more of my kind; the war saw to that,” he said with his voice laced with emotion.

“Morgan’s people are descendants of the elementals.” Jackson picked up for his friend. “When the nine lords decided to cut up again they reached out to the elementals.
Some threw in with their lot, but the ones that didn’t were hunted and destroyed.”

“Cassie was the last of us.” Morgan took over the story. “My sweet little Cassie, who had never harmed a soul in her life, butchered like cattle just before her mother was cut down. I lay there, helpless, while my family was punished for the blood in my veins and the thing in my possession.” He picked up the hammer and tested its weight. “It had been in my family since its creation, a gift for our services and faith. The dark forces came looking for it, and I gave it to them over and over,” he said, recalling the bloody rampage he had gone on in the name of his family.

“I’m sorry,” De Mona said, feeling a bit ashamed for prying.

“It’s not your fault, child. There were no Valkrin present during the slaughter, and the things responsible … I would not even do them the service of speaking their cursed names aloud. I thought killing those things would help to fill the void my wife and child left, but it hasn’t; all it does is make me angrier. So I continue, casting those I encounter back to the pit, and their mortal servants,” he tossed the hammer up and caught it easily, “they find not so pleasant ends.”

“Then your ancestors fought during the siege?” Redfeather asked.

“Maybe they did, or maybe one of my drunken greatkin stole it. The story of my people has been so stretched over the years I don’t think any of us could tell you accurately. I just know that it has always been the job of the eldest son to keep the hammer.”

Redfeather absently stroked his beard as a theory began to develop in his head. “The Nimrod and the hammer appearing in the same city in the midst of a demon uprising is a little too convenient to be a coincidence.”

“What are you on about, old-timer?” Jackson asked.

“A gathering,” Redfeather said. He unfolded a sheet of paper that he’d placed in his pocket before making the first trip to Sanctuary. “It’s said that before the first siege a gathering was called. The cardinals went to all the provinces in the world to gather the pure-of-heart souls who would be the Knights.”

“Man, I can’t buy into all this shit. I ain’t never been no savior of anybody but myself, and my heart sure as hell ain’t pure,” Jackson said.

“And correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t the Knights fight against the demons, not with them?” De Mona pointed out.

“Not true.” Redfeather scanned the page before flipping it over and reading from the other side. “The Ghelgath came, the Weres, and even some of the elementals.”

“We aren’t demons,” Morgan challenged.

“Nor are you human, my friend. For the weapons to have stayed parted all this time only to come together in the wake of a demon uprising … it’s too perfect of a fit to ignore.”

“So, say we are these mythic warriors from yesteryear, where’s this great general who will unite our powers?” De Mona questioned. “No disrespect, man, but Gabriel didn’t strike me as much of a hero.”

“There’s a little hero hiding in the most unlikely of us.” Morgan patted Jackson on the shoulder.

“Sanctuary,” Fin whispered from the back. He was still kneeling at Brother Angelo’s side but appeared to be gaining substance. Just ahead of them was Sanctuary.

The building was as it had been when they’d left, but it looked to be losing its luster. The rain was coming down heavier now, and the front steps were almost covered in mist. Standing in front of the structure were members of the Inquisition. The brothers were dressed in full armor and carrying automatic weapons. Lydia stood in the
doorway whispering frantically into the ear of a man dressed in priest’s robes. He looked to be slightly older than Gabriel, and there was a worried expression on his face.

“I’ll get the body,” Morgan offered, after putting the Hummer in park.

“No, the brothers will attend to him. It’s their right,” Fin said, sliding from the SUV. No sooner had his tattered sneakers hit the pavement than Lydia was down the steps and at his side.

“Oh, Fin, what were you thinking, running off like that?” She ran her hands over his body and then his face to see if he’d been harmed. Lydia’s face slacked and she held him at arm’s length. Though she couldn’t see the radiant glow about him, she could feel the power creeping up his arms. “What’s happened to you?”

Fin gave her a lazy smile. “He asked me to keep it, Lydia. I didn’t want it, but he made me promise.” With that he collapsed into her arms.

“Fin?” She shook him, but he didn’t stir. “What’s happened to him?”

“I fear it’s the spark.” Redfeather stepped up. “Just before he died, Brother Angelo passed something to Finnious, and if I’m right he now carries the Core of this Great House.”

“What do you mean, the High Brother has entrusted the spark to a wraith? The soulless creature can’t even carry it,” the man in the priest’s robes said, disregarding whether Fin could hear him or not.

Lydia’s head whipped back and forth, trying to pick up signs of her surrogate family. “Where are Angelo and Akbar?”

“We lost them in the battle,” Morgan said.

“Who are you? What’s happened to our people?” the brown-haired man in the priest’s robes questioned them.

“It’s like the man said: we lost them in the scuffle.” Jackson stepped up. He didn’t like how the priest was coming at them, and made no secret of it. “We can explain all of that once we get off the streets. There are still some things out there looking to finish what they started, so why don’t you cut the bullshit and let us in.”

Anger flashed across the priest’s eyes. He drew the short sword that he carried on his belt and faced Jackson. “How dare you speak to a brother of the order in such a way? I could have you disciplined for this!”

“If you don’t put that knife away you ain’t gonna do shit but bleed.” De Mona stood beside Jackson. Her claws hadn’t extended yet but were ready at a moment’s notice. She and Jackson made brief eye contact and there was an unspoken agreement. “We’ve been through a lot tonight, probably more than most could handle in a lifetime.” She glanced at the Hummer, where the Inquisitors were collecting Angelo’s remains. “There’s been enough bloodshed.”

“Please, Brother David,” Lydia pleaded as one of the Inquisitors took Fin’s limp body from her.

Brother David scowled at the tired bunch for a moment before bidding them to follow him. “We will speak of this more inside.” He stormed up the stairs with the group in tow. Everyone was so preoccupied with the death of Brother Angelo and the transformation of Fin that no one seemed to notice how thick the fog had gotten.

“God, I hate the rain,” Sulin said, turning off the Prospect Park Loop. The sky had been clear when they set out, but by the time they’d exited the Brooklyn Bridge it had started storming. “Where did this damn monsoon come from?”

Lucy stuck her hand out the window and let the raindrops fill her hand. The rain was surprisingly chilly, far colder than it was outside. “Flash flood?”

Sulin looked over at her. “In a perfect world, yes, but you and I know that neither of the worlds we live in is perfect.”

“You think it’s rogue magic?” Lucy asked.

Sulin looked up through her soaked windshield. “I don’t think so; there’s no source to it. It’s like it’s coming from everywhere and nowhere, typical of Mother Nature.”

Lucy flinched as lightning cracked overhead. She stroked Tiki’s head. “I don’t like it, Sulin. It doesn’t feel right.”

“Goddess, I didn’t realize you were so paranoid, Lucy.” Sulin laughed. “The freakish rain is probably because we’re getting close to Sanctuary. I didn’t recognize it from the address Angelique sent me, but I’d know this area anywhere.”

Lucy tried to muster a smile to spite her mounting
dread. “Who would’ve thought that the Ellis Island of the demon world would have a park-side view?” Lucy examined her surroundings as Sulin pulled up in front of the building. She couldn’t help but think how odd it was that the fog seemed to be concentrated on that block.

“Prime real estate,” Sulin said, sliding from the car and retrieving her dog. The Pom squirmed in Sulin’s arms, agitated by something about the building. “What’s the matter, boy? The haunted house got you spooked?” Sulin kissed the top of his fuzzy head. “Don’t worry; we’ll be in and out in no time.”

“I don’t blame him for being spooked; this place stinks of black magic.” Lucy put her hand over her nose. “I don’t know how long I wanna be here, Sulin.”

“Quit your bitching, Lucy; this isn’t going to take that long. Angelique didn’t say what was going on, but she seemed sure that I could handle it until she got here.”

“Wait; you didn’t tell me that Angelique was coming here.” Lucy stopped in her tracks.

“Lucy, stop being so catty. By the time Angelique gets here I’ll have fixed whatever is wrong and you can take credit for helping me. Goddess knows you need to score as many points with the White Queen as possible.”

“Sulin, remind me never to come on a call with you again.” Lucy followed Sulin up the walkway to Sanctuary. The moment Lucy’s foot touched the sacred grounds she felt a chill. “Couldn’t they have called a priest to perform the exorcism?”

“It’s not an exorcism, silly ass. They needed a healer, so naturally they had Angelique send her best,” Sulin boasted.

“Whatever.” Lucy folded her arms. “Just do what you came to do so we can get out of here.” Lucy stood off to the side while Sulin knocked on the door. While they waited for someone to answer, Lucy busied herself watching the slow-rolling fog. From where they were standing
at the top of the steps she had lost sight of the street below as well as the car. Lucy turned to mention it to Sulin when something wet splashed on her face.

Sulin’s perfectly bowed lips curled back into a sneer while the Pom wiggled in her unyielding clutch. A thick red line appeared at the base of her pale throat. The blood came slowly at first, but as she sank to her knees it began to flow steadily. Sulin’s body disappeared into the fog, leaving nothing but the yapping dog to mark her passing.

Lucy’s magic shields went up without her having to call on them as the fog began to thicken. She backed up against the building, whipping her head back and forth, trying to see who or what had killed Sulin, but it was too thick. Lucy’s eyes picked out a blur of motion, but before she could figure out what it was everything went black.

Flag stood dressed in a red robe, marked with the symbols of his house. Flanking him were two young witches of blond and brunette hair. Unlike Flag, they couldn’t hide their fear of being so deep within the Iron Mountains. Had he had more time he’d have sought more experienced assistants for the spell, but it was roughly three hours to sunrise, so time was not a luxury they could afford. It would take three casters to work the spell, so they would have to do.

“Move you, dog. Put your back into it!” Orden barked as he made his way up the hill, followed by a troupe of goblins, armed with everything from swords to clubs. His muscular arms cracked a leather whip against a goblin who was just a hair shorter than a one-story house. “If you want your pound of flesh then you’ll move your worthless hide!” Orden continued his abuse.

The goblin howled and pulled harder on the chains that were harnessed to his back. At the end of the chains
there was a cannon on a wooden cart. The cannon was the size of a missile launcher and painted to resemble a striking serpent.

“Ready the gateway, mage, we have feasting to do,” Orden ordered Flag.

Instead of answering Orden, Flag turned towards the witches who had already started the spell. The large circle painted against the brick began to glow faintly. The crossing spell they were about to cast was one of the most dangerous and most complex of the travel spells, and it became more so when you tried to use it to cross between realms, which was why it was outlawed by all circles of magic. The ban meant nothing to Titus, though, when it came to pleasing his master, so he ordered Flag to perform it.