by R. L. King
Stone clenched his fists. “Of course. I should have known. You’re one of those Portas prats, aren’t you?”
The man offered a thin, beatific smile. “Call us what you like, Dr. Stone. Your words mean nothing to us.”
“Couldn’t manage to get what you wanted on your own, so you had to take it from us, is that the way it is?”
He chuckled in the manner of a father listening to a child babble nonsense. “Why should we do the work when we could allow you to do it for us?” Nodding toward the obelisk, he added, “And in any case, you might note that we were the ones who managed to make it function. And function it does, clearly. Or would you care to try using some of your Satanic powers on me?” He spread his hands invitingly. “Go ahead, if you can.”
“You won’t get away with this,” Richard said. “We’ll be found, and you’ll regret your actions.”
“Oh, I don’t think so. We did a few tests on our new device before we put you in here. It’s working even more impressively than we’d hoped.”
“Tests?” Stone frowned. “What kind of tests?”
“We couldn’t trust it to hold you until we were sure it would work, of course. And as it happened, we had more than one volunteer—fellow followers of our ways ashamed of their own disgusting powers—who were all too eager to test it first. Sadly, they were disappointed to discover it doesn’t eliminate such powers, as we’d hoped, but merely suppresses them when in proximity to it. That would have been truly a miracle, if it had. We could have removed your powers and simply released you, free to live your lives in a godly way, free of Satanic influence.”
He sighed, rubbing his chin. “But as I said, that was not to be. We did discover, however, that being near the obelisk prevents outside tracking. So if you’re expecting your demonic companions to come to your rescue, I’m afraid you’re quite out of luck.”
“How did you make it work?” Stone asked. As long as the man was willing to talk, best to get as much information from him as possible.
He smiled. “We had something you didn’t.”
Stone went still. “The instructions.”
“Ah, so you know about them? Indeed. The book containing the foul ritual necessary to activate the obelisk has been in our possession for decades, in a secret library in Rome. We haven’t been actively looking for the obelisk, of course, but when word reached us that the pyramid had surfaced, we knew others would be seeking it as well.”
“You nearly killed a good friend of mine,” Stone growled. “A mundane. How do you reconcile that with your holier-than-thou moral code?”
“You’re correct—and that was truly regrettable. Unfortunately, one of your demonic kind who’d pledged himself to our cause proved unable to resist his evil nature.”
“So you had him hit by a truck. More murder.”
“No, Dr. Stone. That wasn’t murder. That was justice. As the sacred word of God says, ‘thou shalt not—’”
“Yes, yes, thou shalt not suffer a witch to live. You lot bang on about that until we’re all tired of hearing it. Your quisling even had it tattooed on his body.”
“I’m aware. Many of us do, as you have your demonic ways tattooed upon yours.”
Stone looked down, only now realizing that the tattoo on his chest, which he normally covered with an illusion, was now visible. “Come on,” he said impatiently. “We can keep on with this until we’re all old, but I don’t think that’s what you want. Where are we, by the way?”
“I won’t tell you that. It doesn’t matter anyway—you won’t be getting out.”
“You can’t cure us of our ‘affliction,’ so you’re going to kill us. Is that the way it is?”
“Exactly. The world will be better off with two less demon-tainted beings in the world. But first, as long as we’ve got you here, we might as well make use of you.”
Stone and Richard exchanged glances.
“What the hell does that mean?” Richard demanded. He seemed to have gained at least some of his fire back.
“Do not speak blasphemy,” the man snapped. Brief anger flashed across his face and he took a step into the room, but then stopped and resumed his original position and expression. “Though I should expect nothing less of your kind.”
“What are you planning to do with us?” Stone asked. “What do you mean, ‘make use of us’?”
The man’s smile was smug. “One thing I have found to be true about you demons: when somehow deprived of your evil powers, your sense of superiority evaporates like morning dew.” He tilted his head at Stone. “You, I’m well acquainted with, Dr. Stone. You have been a thorn in our side in the past, and I relish the chance to punish you for your transgressions.”
“I can hardly wait to see what you come up with.” Inwardly, Stone wasn’t nearly as enthusiastic about the prospect, but these Portas people were like predatory animals: you couldn’t show weakness around them.
“You won’t have long to wait. But I think we’ll start with your friend here.” He turned away from Stone and faced Richard. “I don’t know you personally. But I do know the organization you represent. That is one thing I have to say in Dr. Stone’s favor: he does most of his work alone, or with a few friends. You, on the other hand, belong to an entire nest of demons, dedicated not only to destroying God’s true children, but also to advancing demonic knowledge.”
“We’re scientists,” Richard protested. “That’s all. We’re harmless.”
Stone didn’t snort, but he wanted to. Portas might be the immediate threat, but he suspected everyone in the room knew the Ordo were about as harmless as a tank of piranhas.
“Of course you would tell lies. That’s what Satan and his minions do, after all. You lie in the same way as godly people breathe. But at any rate, you are avoiding the subject at hand. As long as I have one viper as my captive, that presents a truly promising opportunity to gain some useful information about his fellow vipers.”
Stone was watching Richard, who tensed.
The man smiled. “Remain here. I will return soon, and we will…talk. Until then, I suggest you spend your time in prayer and reflection, asking God’s forgiveness for your many sins.”
He backed out of the room and closed the door. An instant later, the lights in the cell went out, plunging the space into impenetrable darkness.
“Bloody hell…” Stone murmured. “He’s full of himself, isn’t he?”
Richard didn’t reply, but Stone could hear his harsh, fast breathing.
“Richard?”
“They’re going to kill us.” His whisper shook with more than cold.
“They are if we don’t come up with a plan.” Stone blinked a few times, trying to accustom his eyes to the blackness, but it didn’t work. With no light, it seemed even more frigid in here than before.
“Don’t you get it, you fool? There isn’t any plan! We’re chained! We don’t have any magic! We’re freezing our asses off! You heard him—he’s going to torture us, and then he’s going to kill us!” The bright edge of incipient panic sluiced through the Ordo man’s voice.
“Richard!” Stone snapped. “Pull yourself together!”
Richard let his breath out in a long, shuddering exhalation. “It doesn’t matter…” he mumbled. “No one’s going to find us here. We don’t even know where here is. We don’t know how long we were unconscious, or far they’ve taken us. We could be anywhere in the world by now.”
“I doubt it.”
“Why?”
Stone pressed his back against the cage. “Think about it. These Portas tossers are anti-magic. Even their mages hate themselves. In the first place, there was only one portal near where we were, and do you honestly think they’d try bringing two unconscious people through it? I doubt they’ve got the cream of the magical crop working for them. They probably don’t even use the portals.”
“That’s a lot of speculation. And they were good enough to catch us, weren’t they?” His voice held bitterness now.
“I
didn’t say they weren’t smart. I said they’re likely not powerful. Illusions are easy, and we both got sloppy. That’s on us.”
“Great.” He snorted. “I’ll keep that in mind while they’re killing me.”
Stone said nothing. The cage bars were cold, but no colder than the concrete floor. He tried not to shiver. In truth, despite his confident words, he wasn’t convinced they were going to get out of here alive. The obelisk’s magic-blocking ability worked just fine against Calanarian magic—did that mean it would also block whatever strange arcane forces that had thus far kept him from dying? If they did kill him and then moved his body away from the device, would it kick back in and bring him back from the brink? Or would he be irrevocably dead, beyond even its ability to revive him?
He bowed his head until his chin touched his chest, and tried to think. There had to be something they could do. There was always a way out.
Until there wasn’t.
“I should never have gotten involved in this whole mess,” Richard muttered.
“What?”
His chains rattled against the floor. “This. Everything to do with this vile device.”
“I won’t argue with you there. Was that you in the car, in Tilley? Were you the one who tried to kill me?”
“No.” He sounded defeated. “Those were…agents the organization hired to retrieve McGrath’s half of the device.”
Agents. The words made Stone think of Eleanor Newman. Had she been the one who’d shot at him? He couldn’t let himself believe that. “Your people weren’t behind the attack on DaCosta, were you?”
“No.” This time, the word was contemptuous. “That time, they beat us to it.” A long silence, and then: “The woman was working for us, though. Did you know that?”
“The woman?” Stone raised his head and made sure his voice held the proper amount of confusion.
“The one who seduced you. The one you’ve been sleeping with.”
“No.” He made himself sound shocked. “Eleanor? No! That’s not possible. You’re lying.”
“Why else would I know about her?” Richard snorted again. “Your…proclivities are well known in our organization, Stone. We took advantage of them.”
He sighed. “Bloody hell. I should have caught on to that.”
“We were surprised you didn’t, honestly. We’d heard rumors that your libido has led you to unwise decisions in the past, though, so we took a chance.”
“Didn’t pay off, though, did it?” Stone was glad the room was dark—it was a lot easier to feign shocked betrayal when all he had to control was his voice. “She didn’t find a bloody thing. Wait…she drugged me that first night, didn’t she? I knew I felt odd in the morning.”
“She did. But unfortunately, you’re right: she didn’t find anything. We were quite surprised and pleased when you didn’t catch on.”
Stone let out a loud sigh. “And I was going to take her home to England with me...” He paused. “But why are you telling me this now?”
“What difference does it make? We’re both dead. They’ve got the device. It doesn’t matter anymore.” The chains rattled again. “I don’t want to talk. It’s pointless. Just…let me try to rest.”
Stone lowered his head back down. He had no idea how long it would be before the Portas man came back—perhaps this time with friends. He tried pulling on the chains again, getting no better results than before. He pressed his back harder against the cage, but it still didn’t move.
He closed his eyes and concentrated as hard as he could, trying to scrounge up the tiniest hint of magic. He had so much power—surely the obelisk couldn’t block all of it.
But nothing happened. Not even a faint, minuscule shred of power responded to his call.
Perhaps Richard was right: they were going to die. And there was nothing either of them could do about it this time. Every story had to end at some point. Every streak of luck had to run out.
As he sat, shivering in the cold with his hands clasped around his drawn-up legs, he wondered if this was finally that time for him.
36
To Stone’s surprise, he must have managed to sleep for at least a brief time despite the chill and the discomfort in the cell. He jerked his head up when a harsh light sprang to life above his head.
“Wake up, demons.”
Stone winced away from the light, which spiked pain into his eyes after the total darkness. “What…?”
“Wake up. It is the hour of your retribution.” It was the same man, but there was no lightness or bantering in his tone now.
“What are you on about?” Stone twisted around to watch as the man entered the cell and moved to Richard’s side. The Ordo man lay stretched on the floor, shivering, his chained hands twisted awkwardly behind him.
“Your time will come soon. For now, watch and contemplate your fate.”
The Portas man was now dressed in simple black pants, pullover shirt, and boots. He pulled something from his belt, then bent and deftly zip-tied Richard’s legs together at the ankles. The he waved toward the door.
Another man, younger this time but no less serious-looking, pushed a rack of implements into the room and shoved it against the wall. He had a chubby, sullen face, with a light dusting of acne across his lower jaw. He left and returned with a wooden chair, which he placed next to the rack.
“Thank you, Caleb,” the Portas man said. “You may remain, but do not enter the room. I hope this will be instructional for you. These demons must not be given any leeway. They are snakes, even when deprived of their Satanic powers.”
“Yes, sir,” the young man said. He glanced at Stone, then back at Richard. His expression was rapt, almost hungry. He was looking forward to what was to come.
“If we’re so Satanic,” Stone snapped, “why hasn’t Satan come to rescue us from your tender mercies?”
“Shut up!” the older man ordered. “Your judgment will come. Do not be in such a hurry to hasten it.”
“I’m just saying—if we were in his service, do you honestly think you deluded wankers could keep him out of here?”
“Silence!”
On the ground, Richard did his best to move away from the thundering voice, pressing himself against the cage.
The Portas man glared daggers at Stone. “In answer to your question, demon—Satan has forsaken you. He knows the power of God is stronger than his own, and God rules here.”
“You wouldn’t know God if he ran you down with a truck. Which apparently is something you lot like to do.”
Caleb, apparently having reached his limit of listening to his superior being insulted by a heathen, strode in and backhanded Stone across the face with a blow that rocked his head back. “He said shut up!”
Stone licked his lips, tasting a little blood, but smiled thinly. “Fine,” he murmured. “For now.” He couldn’t miss the red flush on both the young man’s and the older one’s faces. Perhaps they weren’t as calm and placid as they were trying to project. He filed that away for future use.
“Outside, Caleb,” the Portas man murmured. “I understand and appreciate your fervor, but you must understand these demons hold no power over us. Let them rail and babble. It won’t do them any good.”
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” The young man returned to his spot in the doorway.
“Now,” the older man said, “let us begin.” He sat in the chair, leaned his elbows on his knees, and looked down at Richard. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. It is entirely up to you.”
Stone studied the implement rack. It included a coiled whip, several truncheons of varying lengths, rope, knives, and candles. A platform attached to it held some kind of electrical device with two cables ending in clamps. “Planning to indulge in a spot of BDSM, Reverend? I didn’t know you had it in you.”
The man clenched his fists, but otherwise ignored him. “What’s it going to be, Richard? Easy or hard? Believe me, I hope you choose easy. I truly have no desire for you to suffer unnecessarily
.”
Stone didn’t believe that. The kid in the doorway was looking positively orgasmic, and for a moment, Stone wondered if some of the leftover Evil hadn’t found a welcome home among the Portas crowd.
Richard didn’t answer.
The man didn’t seem to find that surprising. “Let me explain them for you, so you’ll understand, demon. Your choices are these: You repent and can betray your fellows, providing us with their names and locations. If you give us enough information we can use to hunt down more of your vile kind, your death will be swift and merciful.”
Stone didn’t miss Richard’s body tensing, and he knew why. The Ordo was famous for requiring their members to accept magical oaths that prevented them from revealing any substantive knowledge to non-members. If this was true, Richard literally couldn’t betray his fellows. No matter how much this man tortured him, it wouldn’t matter.
Did the Portas man know this, and was choosing to toy with him?
“Not very godly of you, is it?” Stone asked, injecting a full measure of sarcasm into his words.
“What would you know of godliness, demon?” Caleb snapped.
“Caleb, please.” The Portas man’s voice was still calm, almost fatherly.
Stone shrugged. “The whole thing just seems a bit dodgy to me. I’ve been to an S&M dungeon before—purely as an observer, you understand—and they had a lot of similar implements there. When you combine that with chaining us here in our underwear…one has to wonder what the Reverend’s true motives are.”
“Shut up!” Caleb screamed. His whole face was red now. “Sir, are you going to allow this…this filth to—”
“Shh…” The man made a quelling motion with one hand, and selected a whip with the other. “I promise, he’ll suffer for his sins. But first things first. All must be done in its appropriate order. We are better than they are. Do you understand?”