Power Game Page 6

  “You’ve got to tell me what this is about.”

  He glanced over at the other three, then back at me.

  “The big demons are coming.”

  8

  We filed into the basement apartment of a nearby townhouse, passing through a curtain of defensive energy that made my incubus grumble. Malachi closed and locked the door behind us. It wasn’t just his pleading eyes that had persuaded me to come, or our history at St. Martin’s, but my surprise encounter with a demon that very morning.

  Still, I remained on guard.

  Malachi beckoned me to follow as we crossed the unit’s open plan to a large table whose surface was strewn with maps and various texts. Diagrams covered the walls. Whatever was going on, they appeared to be taking it as seriously as cancer. A grimness permeated the apartment, despite being well lit. Everyone sank into chairs around the table except Malachi, who remained standing.

  “Please.” He gestured to an empty chair.

  As I sat, the druid nodded at the shield still humming around me. “That won’t be necessary.”

  “Thanks, but I’m more comfortable with it on.”

  The fae snickered. “If we’d wanted to take you out, we would have.”

  “Is that what you told yourself when you were bouncing off that brick wall.” I had too much going on to put up with smart-assery.

  The mermaid whipped her head around at me. “What did you say to her?”

  “C’mon, guys,” Malachi intervened. “It was a misunderstanding. Look, Jordan located you, Everson, and called the rest of us. When Seay arrived, she was afraid you were crushing his raven form. She only wanted to neutralize your magic. Jordan then tried to keep you from hurting her. That’s when Gorgantha showed up and…” He sighed as he looked over at the gargantuan mermaid. “Well, more misunderstanding.”

  “Yeah, and next time I’ll misunderstand him upside his head,” Gorgantha said.

  You’ll have to connect first, I thought, but kept my mouth closed this time.

  “Why don’t I formally introduce everyone?” Malachi said quickly, resting a hand on the druid’s shoulder. The druid had removed his long cloak and was wearing a stylish white shirt and dark jeans shredded at the knees. “This is Jordan Derrow. He represents a group based around Harriman State Park, north of Manhattan. Next to him is Seay Sherard. She’s here on behalf of a group of half fae who have chosen to make the city their home.”

  I looked over at Seay the Fae. Even with her glamour restored, she was clearly pissed I’d flung her into a wall and then hit her with a blast of cold iron, something I was starting to feel a little bad about myself. But what did she expect after knocking me to the street like that? She squinted at me with pursed lips in greeting.

  “Last but not least, Gorgantha.”

  In the light of the apartment, I could see her more clearly. The mermaid was really something to behold. Her size, musculature, the blade-like fins coming off her forearms. This wasn’t the stuff of Disney.

  “See something green?” she asked me without a hint of irony.

  When I realized I’d been staring, I cleared my throat. “No, it’s just that I didn’t know there were still merfolk in the area.”

  “Lower Bay,” she said.

  “Oh yeah?” I pictured the body of water south of Brooklyn and Staten Island. “How many of you are down there?”

  Instead of answering, she looked her scaly arms over and muttered something about starting to dry out. When she stood and strode toward a large clawfoot tub in a sunken corner of the unit, a melancholy seemed to come over her. She slid into the water and propped her elbows on the tub’s sides.

  “And you already know me,” Malachi said. “After leaving St. Martin’s, I went back to seminary. But the experience with Sathanas left a mark. I became interested in demonology—consumed by it, some of the professors said. I read everything I could on the topic. Traveled to some of the oldest church vaults in the world to search their collections. I was in a monastery on the outskirts of Dublin when I started to have visions.”

  “What kinds of visions?” I asked.

  “Dreams, mostly.” A shadow seemed to pass over his eyes. “Great wars, famine, pestilence, death. Billions of lives, Everson.”

  “You’re describing the apocalypse,” I said.

  “Yeah, but not Four-Horsemen style. This is a demon apocalypse.”

  “But how?” It was rare enough for a single demon lord, or even a higher demon, to come through. They were too large to enter our world, the energy required too great. Lesser demons might be able to slip through the seams the Order was working furiously to repair, sure—I’d faced that fiery one only hours earlier. But they hadn’t the power to pull off the mass devastation Malachi was describing.

  “During my research, I came across what are known as Strangers.”

  “A demon servant who infiltrates a group, twisting that group’s beliefs to their demon master’s purposes,” I recited to save time. “But to kick off an apocalypse, we’d be talking about the beliefs of a massive group, like the entirety of the three major religions, to even have a chance. I’m not seeing that.”

  “The how doesn’t matter,” Malachi said, irritation tightening his words. He didn’t look or sound like he’d been getting a lot of sleep lately. “What matters are the signs. The arrival of the Strangers is one of the first.”

  “What? You’re saying they’re here?”

  “Damn straight,” Gorgantha answered from the tub.

  I twisted in my chair so I was facing her.

  “You mentioned not knowing my kind was around New York. That’s because we haven’t been, not since I was a girl.” I had a feeling she was jumping the script, but Malachi let her continue. “Our pod lived near the mouth of the Bronx River. That was in the early ’80s, back when Grandmaster Flash was spinning in the projects. My friends and I used to sneak off to his block parties.” She must have caught my perplexed look because she said, “Our kind blend pretty well with humans when we’re young. Now that was real hip-hop. The crap they’re putting out today?” She waved a webbed hand. “Anyway, for the health of the pod, Gohalo decided to move us up the coast.”

  “Is that your leader?”

  “Yeah, but most of us call him Gramps. He had us hanging around the islands near Maine. Cleaner waters, more fish, fewer people. Good for the pod, I guess, but damn that place was dull. The only thing that kept me sane was a radio I found and stashed on one of the islands. Anyway, things sort of rolled along till this merman showed up. Happens sometimes. Lone merman gets tired of swimming solo and looks to join another pod. This pimp went by the name Finn. Gramps and the old merfolk liked him right off, but he set off my creep detector big time. My friends’ too. Merfolk worship a god called Leviathan,” she went on.

  “Lord of the Deep,” I said.

  “Yup, and for older merfolk he’s as real as this here tub.” She slapped its side producing a wet sound. “For the rest of us, he’s more a legend, someone to, you know, rah-rah around. This Finn convinced Gramps he’d found Leviathan’s trident during his travels and that it had spoken to him. Said it taught him the rituals to access Leviathan’s realm and attain immortality. Next thing we know, Finn is holding nightly ceremonies, speaking in a tongue we’d never heard. And there was Gramps at his side. Merfolk started going away on trips. Retreats, Finn called them. But when they returned, they weren’t themselves. Like they’d been hollowed out.”

  “Possession,” I said.

  “Sure looked that way,” Gorgantha replied. “The physical changes came on a few days later.”

  “Physical changes?” I asked.

  “They were turning into sea monsters. Fewer of us were going to the ceremonies by this time, even when Gramps made them compulsory. And that’s when my friends started to disappear. Only they weren’t coming back. When I noticed the waters around our caves turning pink with blood—merfolk blood—I knew we had to split. A group of about fifty of us left in the night
. Some of the changed merfolk headed us off. Only half of us escaped. Beat it back to the city, but down in Lower Bay this time. There’s a reef of junked cars down there. Rank water, but a good hiding spot.”

  “And you think this Finn was a Stranger?”

  “After what Malachi told me, I know he’s a Stranger.

  “Harvesting souls for his master,” Malachi put in.

  “And who’s the master?”

  “Presumably a greater demon,” he replied. “Like I said, the whys don’t matter right now. Only that it’s happening.”

  I turned to Jordan and Seay. “Can I assume something similar is happening in your groups?”

  “The possessions, yeah,” Seay said, her words still carrying a sour bite. “Only our Stranger isn’t showing him or herself. Some of the possessions we’ve been able to reverse with magic. The others?” She shook her head. “The ones who return describe sitting in a dark room with something evil moving around the shadows.”

  “You too?” I asked, shifting my gaze to Jordan.

  The room went quiet, as if I’d just stepped on something delicate. “Yeah,” he replied at last.

  When Jordan didn’t offer anything more, I turned back to Malachi. “How about in the Church?”

  “Nothing yet. The Strangers seem to be targeting smaller groups right now, claiming souls and making vessels of the victims. When their masters have enough power, they might pool their resources and go after the larger groups.”

  “Demons cooperating?” I made a skeptical face.

  “It goes against what I’ve read too,” Malachi admitted. “But—”

  “Right, right,” I said. “The whys don’t matter right now.”

  I glanced around at the others. If we were looking at a concerted effort from the demons, this was a big deal. So why hadn’t the Order said anything?

  “Is this only occurring around New York?” I asked.

  “Could be happening elsewhere,” Malachi said, “but my dreams led me to these three. And to you.”

  “Why me?”

  “Has a Stranger visited your Order?” he asked.

  I almost scoffed. A lower demon would have to be suicidal to try to infiltrate their ranks. But not wanting to offend the others by suggesting they were being targeted for their groups’ weaknesses, I only shook my head.

  “Then there must be another reason,” Malachi said reflectively.

  “I thought you said he could help us,” Seay challenged. “His group’s not even under threat.”

  The druid rested a hand on her forearm. He struck me as the steady one. “Perhaps he still can. Malachi has told us about you, Everson. He described your work in the city. What we’re proposing is a mutual defense arrangement. You help us, and when a time of need arises in your work, we’ll be there to help you.”

  “You already have our help,” I said. “The original purpose of our line was to defend against demon incursions and their evil spawn. Don’t worry about a tit for tat. This falls squarely under our mission statement. I’ll put in a call to my Order right now, in fact.” I stood. “I’ll let you know as soon as I hear back.”

  At least I’d gotten to the bottom of who these three were and what they’d wanted with me. Now I had to get back to my scheduled program—updating the hunters. But an urgency seemed to take hold in Jordan’s eyes.

  “We’d like a commitment from you now.”

  “Right this second?” I looked around. “Can I ask why?”

  “Malachi told us about that demon lord you put down,” Seay said.

  “And if you can handle a demon lord, you can sure as shit deal with these Strangers,” Gorgantha added from the tub.

  I let out a surprised laugh. “Look, a lot of things came together for that to happen. It was a million to one shot. Even under identical conditions, I’m not sure I could repeat it. The Order is our next step.”

  “How can we help you?” Jordan asked with the same insistence.

  The fact of the matter was I could use any and all assistance in my search for Arnaud, especially from supernaturals, but these three were proposing a quid pro quo: we help you, you help us. And if we were dealing with coordination among demons, I couldn’t commit to something of that scale without the Order’s guidance, if not direct involvement.

  Which put us back to square one.

  “Look, if you’ll just be patient—”

  Jordan slammed the table with his fist. “There isn’t time, dammit!”

  All right, so much for bird boy being the steady one.

  “What about sanctuary?” Malachi asked me.

  “Sanctuary?” I repeated.

  “For you and a loved one,” he said. “I don’t doubt your protections are stout, but I can offer the protection of the Church. As part of the Interfaith Council, we have safehouses throughout the city. Space is limited, but we would be able to hold a spot for you and someone else. The power that protects the safehouses would shield you from even the most determined demon. Or servant.”

  “And you’re offering this in exchange for my commitment?”

  But it was the druid who answered. “We’re offering it in exchange for your pledge.”

  Light glimmered over a faint tattoo on the side of his right hand, beneath the thumb. A bonding sigil, I realized. As I glanced around, I saw that they all had them. Even Gorgantha, who’s webbed hand was perched on the side of the tub. So magic binds the pledge-holders. And judging from how quickly they had rushed to Jordan’s defense earlier, powerful magic. Mutual protection, indeed. Once someone committed, there was no backing out.

  “But there’s a condition,” Jordan added. I noticed Malachi’s jaw tense. “You have to prove your commitment to our cause before we help you, including getting you a spot in one of the safehouses.”

  All the more reason to consult the Order first.

  “Look, as soon as I know something, I’ll be in touch,” I said.

  Gorgantha made an impatient face while Seay swore under her breath. When Jordan opened his mouth again, I braced for another eruption, but he appeared to have composed himself. He looked past me.

  “Malachi, give him our info.”

  Malachi dug out his wallet and handed me a business card with a name and number.

  I accepted it and squinted at the small print. “‘The Upholders,’” I read aloud, thinking it sounded like a support group for single fathers. On the backside was a handwritten druidic incantation above a symbol: the bonding spell.

  “When you’re ready,” Jordan said, “speak the words and hold the sigil to your hand.”

  I put the card in a coat pocket without comment. As I turned to leave, Malachi clasped my hand. But this wasn’t the dead fish from earlier. His grip was powerful, charged with traces of the same energy that had coursed through me the night I channeled the power of the cathedral into the demon lord Sathanas.

  It made me uncomfortable.

  “There’s time, but not much,” he whispered. “Don’t wait until it’s too late.”

  I reclaimed my hand from his grip and walked toward the door.

  “You have a role to play,” he called after me.

  9

  I called Claudius en route to the vampire hunters’ East Village apartment. The old man who took messages for the Order sounded as harried as ever.

  “Is everything all right?” I asked him.

  “Yes, yes—I mean no! I haven’t heard from the Order in days.”

  A cold hand wrapped my heart. “Days? Why didn’t you tell me that when we talked earlier?”

  “Didn’t I? Oh, geez, there’s so much going on here, Everson. Magic-users are leaving me messages left and right.”

  “What kind of messages?” I asked with more foreboding.

  “Demonic presences, like the one you reported earlier.”

  Great, so Malachi’s dreams and visions weren’t delusions.

  “And you have no idea where Arianna and the others are?” I asked.

  “Well, they�
�ve been in the interplanar realms, but at least one of them checks in daily. The last I heard from someone was Tuesday, though. It was, um, let’s see…” I heard a shuffle of papers. It continued for the length of time it took me to cross a street. “Yes, Arianna. She said they’d discovered a new breach in the Harkless Rift.”

  The layers around our world featured their own esoteric geographies. Arianna had given me an updated book with ink-drawn maps that represented them. A little magic, and the maps turned into moving holograms, but even those were hard to make sense of. There were no earthly equivalents, and yet each geographic feature had a name. The Harkless Rift was one of the largest features on the fourth plane.

  “And that was the last you heard from anyone?” I asked.

  “Yes, and if I can’t start clearing this paperwork off my desk, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I feel like I’m suffocating, Everson.” He began to pant, as if he was on the verge of a full-blown breakdown.

  “All right, just stop for a minute. Breathe.” But, hell, I was starting to feel short of breath myself. Arnaud, demonic summonings, active spell books, Strangers, mutual protection agreements—this was not the time for the senior members of the Order to ghost us. “Is there anyone from the next tier you can contact?” I asked.

  “All the upper tiers are in the breaches, Everson. I guess I could be considered next tier, but I … well, my magic’s not what it once was. It was highly specialized magic too. I dealt in complex bindings. In fact, I remember this one time…”

  “Claudius,” I said firmly.

  “Yes, yes, sorry. After me, it’s magic-users like you. The ones who are leaving all these messages.” There was a riffling of papers in the background, and Claudius began breathing hard again.

  “What about my trainer?”

  “You have a trainer?” I pictured Claudius blinking in confusion.

  “Yes, Gretchen Wagonhurst. Spends a lot of time in the faerie realm. Do you have any way to contact her?”

  “Let’s see…” I heard a desk drawer slide open followed by the mutters of someone in search of something he had no idea how to find.