Tome of Bill (Companion): Shining Fury (4 page)

I hated myself ever so slightly as we rolled over it and continued on our way.

“Are you absolutely sure?” Kelly asked.

“For the last time, yes,” I replied. We were on Route 93 heading toward the Boston city limits. I cringed inwardly as the sign came into view, memories unbidden flooding into my head of the last time I’d taken this route.

Those had been simpler days, but that didn’t mean they’d been better ones.

“Okay, if you say so. V?”

“I’m ready,” Veronica said.

The two witches again placed their hands on Bernadette’s head. A second later, there was a flash of yellowish light followed by a slight crack of power. The sound was disturbingly familiar. I winced ever so slightly, remembering the feel of the hand striking my face when I dared to speak my mind.

At least this time it had just been in my head.

Bernadette let out a groan and began to stir as the two witches quickly leaned away from her and adopted poses that they probably hoped looked innocent enough.

The Templar glanced around groggily as if unsure of where she was. Rather than run the risk of her panicking, I quickly spoke up. “Ah, you’re awake. Good timing.”

“Good timing? For what, Blessed One?”

“We’re almost there.”

“The den of wickedness?”

“I always thought that was supposed to be Vegas,” Meg commented.

“There’s Atlantic City, too,” Kelly said. “Although maybe that’s just the front porch of wickedness.”

Bernadette’s face puckered up with barely concealed disgust. Bill and his friends would have almost surely made some comment about it. Considering the grimace she was making, I might not have blamed them for it.

“Yes,” I replied. “We’ll be in Boston soon.”

“My apologies, Blessed One. I...”

“I don’t suppose we could consider calling each other by our actual names,” Kelly interrupted.

Bernadette looked like she wanted to make a comment far less kind than just a name, but I stepped in before that could happen. “That would probably make things easier.”

“It would be improper to address you as if you were anything less than a vessel of holy power.”

“Let’s not forget about the sin of pride,” Kelly offered.

Amazingly enough, that seemed to get through to Bernadette, though she didn’t look happy at being schooled by a purveyor of the so-called dark arts. “Very well, Sister O’Connell.” I pursed my lips, to which she added, “I mean ... Sheila.”

“Thank you, Bernadette,” I replied. Though their misguided faith in me was what kept them following my lead, it was also tiresome. Though humanizing me in their eyes carried with it risk of its own, it was worth it for any amount of headache it prevented. I couldn’t understand how people like the royal family of England could live like that, with a constant stream of sycophants and titles, but perhaps when one grew up surrounded by that it became more commonplace.

As for me, up until last year I was lucky if my boss at the time remembered my name. It still blew my mind. A handful of months was the difference between being a nobody – a wallflower with barely a social life to speak of – and finding myself revered by one group and public enemy number one to another.

I thought back to my old boyfriend from high school, Andrew, the same one who elicited the unpleasant memory associated with this road. If only he could see me now. I doubt he’d ever try to raise a hand to me again, and if he did, it would end badly in his favor. If he’d had his way, I might never have realized my potential. Even though I found myself heading toward a potentially blood-soaked destiny, I couldn’t deny that it was better than a life scared of my own shadow. It was...

“Hello. Anyone home?”

“Huh?” I snapped out of my thoughts and turned to find Meg staring at me.

“You were the one who suggested we stay on a first name basis. So ignoring me when I use it is probably not a great start.”

“Can you please pay attention to the road?” Veronica asked with some concern in her voice.

Meg purposely swerved the car into the next lane over – thankfully empty – before straightening us out again. “No back seat drivers or I’ll find a bridge to drive us off.”

“How dare you threaten...”

“She’s joking, Bernadette,” I said. At least I hoped she was. Of Christy’s coven sisters, Meg seemed to be the most hard-boiled of the bunch – a shoot first, ask questions never type. Of course, that could have just been my interpretation. People with dry senses of humor tended to be hard for me to read. “Anyway, sorry. My mind wandered a bit. I have some history with this place.”

“Vampire related?”

“Before all of that.”

“Good history?”

“I’d rather not talk about it.”

“That means no,” Meg replied. “I can dig it. I kind of feel the same way about Albany.”

“This is all fascinating, really it is,” Kelly chimed in. “I’m more than happy to talk about how my mom was pissed when I cut my hair short, but we’re going to be looking at Boston in our rearview mirror if we don’t start to focus.”

Meg lifted up her hand and flashed the middle finger toward the back seat, eliciting a grunt of disapproval from Bernadette.

“What I meant is that we’re getting close,” Kelly continued. “We should consider finding a spot to ditch these cars before we end up driving smack dab into the middle of the city and announcing ourselves.”

“Are we really looking for a car wash?” Veronica asked.

“According to Bill we are.” I mentally winced at saying his name aloud, but for far different reasons than my memories of Andrew. “At least that’s what it was before everything went to Hell. No idea if the new management is being quite so coy about things. From what I hear, this Vehron guy probably doesn’t even know what a car wash is, or a car for that matter. I have a feeling he’s less concerned with stealth as much as fortifying the place.”

“Make the call,” Meg said.

“Start looking for residential areas, strip malls, parking garages ... any place where we can regroup without looking like we’re regrouping.”

Meg flashed me a dubious look. I didn’t need to ask to know what she meant.

I turned in my seat and addressed Bernadette. “Let’s talk about the way you’re all dressed...”

* * *

The Templar would have been happy as clams to go marching into their self-proclaimed den of wickedness with swords held high and red robes proudly proclaiming their status as an ancient order founded to stand against the darkness.

However, our mission was to divert Vehron the Destroyer’s forces our way so that the other team could slip in from the north unnoticed, but that diversion would work best if we could get close before we sprung it. It would also keep our enemies from mobilizing too early and potentially wiping us out. Everyone in our group knew the odds were stacked heavily against us, but there was little to be gained by treating this like a suicide pact.

“The people should know that help has arrived,” Bernadette argued.

“Help?” Kelly asked. “If they see the National Guard or the police, they’ll know help is there. I hate to break it to you, but if I saw a bunch of guys with swords and red capes walking down the street, I’d think the ren faire was in town.”

After a few moments, during which our radio began to chirp – the other cars in our convoy were no doubt noticing our proximity to Boston – we compromised. The Templar’s cloaks would go into backpacks, bags, or wherever else they could be stuffed. They could don them once we were within a mile of our target. Albeit, if we made it that far without being noticed, it would be a minor miracle.

Regardless, by that point, the kid gloves would come off. The primary goal of our group was to distract Vehron’s forces from noticing Bill’s approach, but it wasn’t
my
goal. I was here to push through to the complex itself. Inside awaited the vampire I was destined to face ... the Freewill, the legendary Night Spawn. It was prophesized that If I lost, humanity would drown in darkness. I wasn’t sure I wanted to believe that, but I had no intention of losing – if not for me, then for the friends who would be facing him alongside me, for my mom, and for everyone else who stood helpless in the path of supernatural forces they couldn’t hope to defeat.

For him.

I shook my head and stepped from the passenger side door. I so didn’t need those thoughts mucking with my head.

We’d stopped in the parking lot of a darkened ShopRite. There were other cars about, although whether parked or abandoned, I had no way of knowing. Aside from the distant sound of engines as the rest of our convoy found parking in the surrounding blocks, it was very quiet.

I didn’t know if that was a good thing or not, but if I’d been a betting girl I know where I’d have put my money.

“Lock and load,” Kelly said with a grin, popping the back hatch of the SUV.

Though hers was the only voice speaking in that moment, I sensed something else calling to me as I rounded the vehicle. It was with some restraint that I kept myself from shoving the witch to the side and throwing off the blankets that covered our weapons.

Though my power worked just fine on its own, I somehow felt more complete with my sword in hand. Ever since the Templar had first presented it to me, I’d sensed the connection. To them, it was a holy relic in stature, but that was it ... a symbol of the divine power they believed in. One might believe a splinter was a piece of Noah’s Ark, but functionally, it was still just a hunk of wood. For me, though, it was different.

The sword felt almost alive.

I kept myself in check as Bernadette donned chainmail armor, putting a jacket on over it for now. Her red cloak went into a carryon by her side. Also into the bag went a dagger, a loaded handgun, and a couple of extra magazines of ammunition. A gleaming metal cross hung from her neck, not quite as inconspicuous as I’d have preferred, but workable. From a distance, she would look like a normal unassuming older lady perhaps out for a walk with her nieces.

Some of the other Templar had swords or rifles. They’d need to be a bit more careful in the concealment of those. We ran the risk of tipping off our enemies if seen too soon. However, we also didn’t have much in the way of advance intelligence for the city in its current state. It was still within the realm of possibility to run afoul of the police. The last thing any of us needed was to be arrested on domestic terrorism charges.

Ultimately, I had to trust my companions all realized this, too. I reminded myself that the Templar were an ancient order of highly trained warriors. This wasn’t their first rodeo. Speaking of which...

“Jeez. Tone it down, Annie Oakley,” Kelly said to Meg, who was busy loading a double-barreled shotgun. My breath caught as she momentarily swung the business end past me, but thankfully nobody seemed to notice.

“My father gave me this gun. I took down a black bear with it once. It’s dependable.”

“Yeah, well, Old Reliable there is going to get us arrested.”

“Relax, I’ll put a glamour on it. You and V should grab something, too, just to be safe.”

“I’ve never fired a gun in my life,” Veronica said. “I’m afraid I’ll end up shooting myself.”

“Just as long as you don’t shoot me,” Meg replied conversationally.

“If it’s all the same with you, I’ll stick to magic.”

Kelly demurred on taking a gun as well. She instead pulled a mace out of the trunk. After Meg and Veronica stared at her for a few seconds, she said, “What? Magic can fail. I had this hanging on my wall at home. Bought it online a few years back. Figured it can bust a head or two if need be.”

I smiled as the three witches continued to bicker, but it was a struggle to keep myself in check. I could see the pommel of my sword peeking out, beckoning me, but I waited my turn while the others got ready. Despite Bernadette’s insistence, I’d decided to forgo my old Templar armor. I no longer felt a part of them and didn’t want the added burden of pretending I belonged. It also chafed something fierce.

“You want this peashooter, Sheila?” I looked up to find Meg holding out a handgun to me. “Looks like we have a spare .357.”

In an instant, the pull of the sword was forgotten and I found myself stammering for an answer. The impossibly large barrel of Remington’s gun flashed through my mind’s eye. “Um, no thanks. I’d probably shoot my own foot off, too.”

“The Blessed One doesn’t require the trappings of modern man to protect her,” Bernadette added. That was one I owed her. Pity that she’d never know.

Almost as if in response to Bernadette, I felt the call again, stronger than ever, and this time I heeded it.

I stepped up, grasped the grip of the weapon – my weapon – and lifted it out. Almost immediately I felt better, more whole, more myself. Though entirely unnecessary, I pulled the blade from the sheath, watching as it lit up with a white glow that seemed to be all its own.

The sword had once belonged to Joan of Arc, the last known Icon before fate had chosen me for whatever reason it had. However, I had a sneaking suspicion, one I dared not share with the Templar, that its history went further back than that. Legend said that Joan heeded the voice of angels who told her where to find the blade. I suspected it was less angels and more the sword itself calling to her as it now called to me.

Had other Icons wielded this weapon before her, channeling their power through it, and leaving a little bit of themselves behind? I had no way of knowing for certain, but that felt right. The sword was more like a supercharged battery than a mere blade – one attuned to my power, yet seemingly possessing a force of its own.

It was silly in a way, almost like the sword in the stone. Yet, I couldn’t deny it either. I may not have been King Arthur, but in my hand, it surely felt like Excalibur.

* * *

“All are accounted for, Bles ... Sheila,” Bernadette said.

I almost had to laugh. I’d asked for everyone to try to look inconspicuous, but now together, with our group over three dozen strong, we looked like an angry mob waiting to happen.

Echoing my concern, Kelly said, “Oh, yeah, I’m sure nobody’s dialing 911 from behind drawn curtains right now.”