As the big-screen TV ignited to life with the laptop’s video images, Talon pulled the trigger.
Talon’s world had become a place of darkness. A world where all his thoughts were drowned out by the occult program. For a split second, though, Casca’s words almost seemed to make sense. What was his target talking about? Who was Michelle? In the far recesses of his mind, a memory stirred but was quickly suppressed. He served Zagan. He served the darkness. The billionaire’s words were meant to confuse him. Distract him from his true purpose. They were nothing but a pack of lies. Weak attempts at throwing him off.
He raised the Glock. His fingers whitened on the trigger. And that’s when a familiar face splashed on the monitor.
Why did he recognize this woman? There was something familiar about her. Hooded attackers wearing silver robot masks surrounded her. A quiver ran up his arm as he fired. His aim was off and the bullet missed Casca, shattering the illuminated globe instead. The bullet punched a giant hole into the Atlantic and the globe’s light extinguished.
The images on the plasma screen were affecting him somehow. Doubt coiled up inside him. This time it took root and began to spread.
Talon stared at the scene playing out on the display. His breath hitched as the first knife plunged into the hapless female. The shakes traveled up his arm until his whole body was trembling. Was that a tear forming in his eye? It couldn’t be.
His mind reeled and recoiled. Confusion and darkness gave way to dawning understanding. He remembered how he knew this woman… her voice was so familiar…
Michelle.
The name wormed its way through his consciousness, an echo of another life.
My Michelle…
She was in danger. The men onscreen were hurting her. Killing her.
They killed her!
Understanding shattered the darkness inside him and clarity returned with each successive thrust of the knife. As Michelle’s life ran out onscreen, Talon dropped the gun. The Glock hit the carpet with a thump that reverberated all the way into his soul. Casca’s voice sliced into his awareness.
“Talon, these monsters killed your Michelle.”
No!
“They’re using you.”
This can’t be.
“Are you going to let them get away with murder?”
NOOOOOOO!
A pitiful scream of unbridled anguish welled up and broke free from the depths of his darkest pain. Seeing Michelle die again shattered his defenses, stripped him of his emotional armor, tore through skin, muscle, sinew and bone straight to the core of his being.
Talon collapsed to the ground, sobbing. The video ended. Silence descended over Casca’s office.
The man who lowered his head had been Zagan’s servant. The man who stared up at Casca was the occult assassin. ”Help me kill these bastards.”
Chapter Nineteen
Waves of agony rippled through Talon’s scarred chest. The inverted pentagram throbbed, the anguish like a physical manifestation of his pulsing rage. Zagan had taken away everything that mattered. His friend. His lover. His soul. Thanks to Casca, the Omicron CEO had ultimately failed on the last count.
Talon stole a glance at the billionaire’s security guy, Jackson. The man was massaging his bruised jaw. Talon had no memory of clocking him but was grateful he hadn’t resorted to lethal force. Perhaps on a subconscious level he’d been exerting control during his own possession, reigning in the violence in some way. Nevertheless, if it hadn’t been for Casca’s quick thinking he would’ve succumbed to the power of the occult algorithm.
He would have taken life in the name of Zagan’s cult.
The billionaire pointed at the laptop on his oak desk. It was running the code segment. Talon’s instinct was to recoil from the shimmering data, but Casca had reassured him it was safe. This was a small part of the program that couldn’t exert any supernatural influence over him.
“So run this by me again,” Talon said. “How is this software allowing Zagan to control reality?”
“The program is tapping into occult energy. It might help to think of it as a 21st Century version of a spell. The incantations embedded in the computer code are written in demotic, an ancient Egyptian language used in rituals to raise demons from the netherworld.”
“The netherworld? You mean like hell?”
“In a manner of speaking. Mind you, we’re not talking about Satan or the Judeo-Christian hell here.”
“So what are we talking about?” Talon was doing his best to reign in his impatience. He wasn’t used to not being in control.
“The darkness.”
Talon cocked an eyebrow.
“I don’t know if there’s one absolute truth in this world,” Casca explained. “What I do know is there’s good and evil. Two cosmic forces coursing through our universe, in constant conflict. The light and the dark. All cultures have interpreted these forces in various way. Their poets dreamt up names, their artists gave it form, their priests conceived rituals. The demons and monsters and mythologies of the popular imagination are man’s attempt to grasp the darkness, a power beyond our knowledge and understanding.”
The old Talon would’ve groaned at this point, but his recent experiences had changed his attitude. All this occult stuff was still giving him a headache but he couldn’t deny the nightmare he’d lived through.
“So this darkness or demon is taking over Zagan?” Talon asked.
“Based on what you’re describing, it appears that way. Zagan has become the vessel for a supernatural entity’s return to the material world.”
“Why does an ancient demon return as a cyborg?”
“The demon doesn’t choose his form, the adept does. Its final manifestation is filtered through Zagan’s mind and psychology. His dreams, his nightmares.”
“Why does Zagan want to be possessed by this entity?”
“Oh, he doesn’t.”
Talon knitted his brows. Casca was losing him.
“Zagan believes he’s controlling the darkness, when in fact it’s controlling him. It’s given him a taste of power so he’ll finish the program.”
“In other words, he’s being played.”
“Exactly. The darkness needs Zagan and his followers to fall. One last sacrifice is needed to complete the program and assure the demon’s manifestation in our reality.”
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying? Omicron is headed for a Jim Jones-style mass suicide?”
Casca nodded gravely. “The Apple attack proves that Zagan is losing his sense of self-preservation. It’s only a matter of time before the authorities put it all together and come after him. A final showdown approaches.”
“And once this final sacrifice completes the program…”
“The demon will permanently enter our world. And it gets worse.”
Talon groaned. “You gotta be kidding me.”
“Becky managed to identify the code segment. It’s part of Omicron’s new operating system. Scheduled to automatically update at noon today, on all their devices.”
“What does that mean?”
“This program will raise demons from the darkness. Occult ritual updated for a new millennium and transformed into a computer program. Once it’s out there, it can be replicated indefinitely. Anyone who comes in contact with the code will be able to raise and channel these entities, just as Zagan did. The program will be impossible to destroy, unless you track down each and every device and destroy them all.”
Talon cracked his knuckles and a bead of cold sweat pulsed down his face. Casca’s message was coming through loud and clear. If Zagan’s program went live, it could mean the end. For everyone.
“Let’s get to the fun part. How do we destroy this fucking program?”
“We hit the Omicron servers.”
Talon pondered this for a moment. “Which means I gotta go back in there.”
“It’s the only way to end this thing.”
Talon pointed at his brutalized chest
. “I’m one of them now. Should make it easy to get past security. But what if Zagan pulls off another magic show?”
“I might be able to help you out on that front.” Casca removed a circular pendant from his drawer. Inside the circle was a five-pointed star.
“I think I got my own,” Talon said.
“This one is a little different,“ Casca said with a smile. “People see the pentagram as a representation of evil, but nothing could be farther from the truth. The five points represent the five senses, the five wounds of Christ, the five virtues of knighthood…”
“I get it. The pentagram can be a symbol of good. So how does it get such a bad rap?”
“In the 19th Century the interpretation changed,“ Casca explained. “With a single point facing upwards it was considered good, the spirit ruling over the element of matter.”
Casca turned the pentacle upside down and now it resembled Talon’s scar. “A reversed pentagram, with its two point upwards, became a mark of evil because it overturns the proper order of things, putting matter above the spirit.”
“So what am I supposed to do with it?”
“The pendant dates back to the Sumerian period. It represents a powerful force of good. Wear it when you face Zagan and his power over your senses will diminish.”
Talon touched the pentagram amulet, not quite convinced. The metal was cool to the touch. No magical electricity here. Nevertheless, he pocketed the item. He would need all the help he could get.
“Anything else?”
“Let me show you something.” Casca rose from behind his desk and walked back into the library. Talon trailed him. The place didn’t seem all that eerie any more. Compared to some of the shit Talon had experienced back at Omicron, Casca’s library was downright cozy.
“By the way, sorry for being a dick earlier,” said Talon. “You were trying to warn me, but I wouldn’t listen.”
“I must apologize too. My over-eagerness got the best of me. You weren’t ready for the truth.”
“I am now.” There was determination in Talon’s voice.
Casca stepped up to one of the display cases. Talon leaned closer. Contained inside the glass case was a dagger inscribed with strange occult symbols.
“Do you like horror films?”
“You mean when I’m not living in one? To be honest I prefer comedies.”
“No accounting for taste, eh?” Casca grinned. “I assume you’re not familiar with the seven blades of Megiddo, from the Omen series of films?”
Talon shook his head. “You assume correctly.”
“In the movies, seven sacred blades were created in Megiddo, the birthplace of Christianity, from the material of a comet. These magic blades could kill Satan’s progeny. The Antichrist.”
“Lovely. Don’t tell me this is one of these blades.”
“Oh no, the blades are made up. Pulled from the imagination of some Hollywood screenwriter. But the idea was inspired by this particular item…” Casca pointed at the knife in the case. “The demon slayer.”
Talon eyed the knife more closely. The craftsmanship was impeccable. Its polished steel glittered in the library’s recessed lights. Symbols were inscribed on the blade and the handle was fashioned from the bone of some animal.
“The demon slayer goes as far back as Babylonian times.”
“How much did this toothpick set you back?”
“Let’s say it made for a nice tax write-off, and leave it at that.”
“Does it work?” Talon asked.
“It works.”
Talon studied Casca, but the billionaire didn’t add anything else. Talon sensed that there was a story here but it wouldn’t be told today.
Casca opened the display case and handed Talon the knife. Demon Slayer. The weight of the ancient blade felt weird at first but seemed to adjust to his hand and grip, almost as if it was becoming an extension of his being.
He slashed the air a few times, testing how it felt in his hand. Could eight inches of pre-Christian steel stop a monster like Zagan? Talon wasn’t quite convinced. But he had come to trust Casca.
“Between the demon slayer and the amulet you have a fighting chance at stopping Zagan.”
“That’s all I’m asking for.”
Talon was about to get his rematch with Zagan.
This time around, only one of them would be left standing.
Chapter Twenty
Talon strode into the Omicron lobby around eleven o’clock. The demon-slayer blade was securely sheathed under his jeans, amulet stashed in the pocket of his worn leather jacket.
Talon fixed his attention on the guards fronting the reception desk. Two of the men were approaching fast, expressions serious and focused.
Instead of presenting a security badge he opened his jacket, revealing the dried, crusted blood of the pentagram scar. His express ticket to hell.
The guards relaxed. These weren’t polished GQ types, as he had first thought from a distance. They had cleaned up pretty well, but there was a toughness and an edge to these men. Former bikers or vets. Rough types with hard faces, ropy muscles and cold eyes. The suits and ties couldn’t hide all their tats and scars.
Was the security staff under the spell of the occult algorithm, or true believers of the darkness? Talon wasn’t a gambling man, but he’d bet on the second explanation with them.
One glance at his pentagram and the guards backed off.
“I’m here to see my master,“ Talon said, doing his best to stay in character without overplaying his hand. One of the guards sidled up to him and indicated that Talon should follow him. He fell in step with the guard as they headed toward a bank of elevators.
Thanks to his last, rather memorable visit, the glass palace had lost much of its luster. He’d seen the true face of Omicron — the evil that lurked behind the polished surface.
Becky had informed them that Omicron’s server maze was located on the lower level. Access was granted to the top coders and security staff. The guard walking Talon to the elevators was his way in.
As soon as they stepped into the lift and the door zoomed shut, Talon grabbed the man’s neck and smashed his head against the elevator’s control panel — full force. Ignoring the cams, he pulled the slumping guard’s head back by his hair and pressed the demon-slayer blade against his carotid artery. Talon didn’t know if the knife actually possessed the power to slay monsters, but it sure as hell would have no trouble opening up a man’s throat.
“Slight change in plans. Last time I asked for the tour, they skipped the basement.”
“Fuck you…” The guard’s words were cut off as his forehead connected with the elevator wall again. Talon tore the security badge from the guard’s breast-pocket and inserted it into a slot. A panel slid open, revealing a biometric touch screen. He pushed the groggy guard in front of the screen. A beam of light zipped over the monitor, scanning the guard’s eyeball. A second later, a touch-screen flashed into view. Talon selected the basement and the elevator hummed to life.
“Your friend begged for his life, ya’ know,” the guard mumbled under his breath.
Talon grew still as he tilted his head at this. Blood trickled down the guard’s broken nose as his mouth creased into a dirty smile. “He squealed like a pig—“
The words died on his lips as Talon drove the blade through his ribcage, straight into his heart. The guard spat at him with his dying breath before staggering away.
A red circle was widening where the knife had entered. He slid down the wall, trailing a smear of blood, and crumpled on the elevator floor in a widening pool of gore.
Fuck! Talon cursed himself. He’d originally planned to keep the guard alive, at least until he was inside the server farm. Studying the dead guard, Talon did recognize him as one of Erik’s killers. Wherever Erik might be, Talon knew he was grinning like a schoolboy.
This one’s for you, old friend.
The elevator stopped and the doors parted. Talon stepped into a narrow hallway and
navigated through another doorway that required the guard’s security badge.
Two IT engineers faced a bank of monitors inside a glass-enclosed control deck overlooking an endless maze of servers. They gazed up at Talon with surprise. One of the IT guys reacted immediately and sprang to his feet, knife up. Talon grabbed a nearby coffee pot and hurled its boiling contents into the IT guy’s face. The IT guy screamed and backed away.
The second engineer whipped out a blade, his binary tattoo exposed as he rushed Talon. The Delta operator stepped aside and yanked the engineer’s arm back until it snapped. The knife went flying.
Three punches later and the engineer had joined his buddy on the ground.
A second door whirred open. Talon advanced into the server maze. A knight entering the lair of the dragon.
The server farm stretched out before him, a cold, sterile maze of pulsing technology. Talon’s footsteps echoed eerily as he penetrated the otherworldly computer labyrinth. The marble black servers that dotted the white, cavernous space made Talon think of electronic coffins in a mausoleum. Glittering futuristic graves containing the remains of some computer race of the distant future.
Talon didn’t know which of the black monoliths housed Zagan’s demonic program, but it didn’t matter. He would blow the whole basement sky-high. Moving with speed, all too aware that the clock was ticking, he set his C-4 charges and armed them. One after another, the lights on the explosives glimmered red while the remote detonator remained secure in his jacket pocket.
The plan was to set off the C-4 and get the hell out of here. But if his enemy left him no choice, Talon was prepared to die in this basement. Whatever ancient entity Zagan had brought back to life couldn’t be allowed to return to the 21st Century and multiply. The world had enough problems without having to worry about a demonic invasion.
Talon had set about eight charges when the hairs on his neck and arms stood up. Something had changed inside the server maze. He shivered and realized the temperature had dropped by ten degrees or more. He peered down the spooky, abandoned hallway. The computers shined with an unnatural life and the ventilation system hummed forebodingly.
Occult Assassin: The Complete Series (Books 1-6) Page 12