by Ryland Thorn
Lennox has heard him. As with Samuel in the foyer above, she is quick to reach Deedee’s side. Jack gives the room one more look then lowers his guard. He waits anxiously for Lennox to say something.
“She’s alive,” Lennox says after what feels like forever. Jack briefly closes his eyes against waves of relief that he hadn’t expected to be so strong. When the waves pass, he holsters his gun and joins Lennox on his knees.
More than just alive, Deedee is starting to wake. Her eyes slowly open. She looks pale and shocked, but there are no obvious wounds. For the moment, she seems lost and confused, much as Lennox had done back at the department store.
Then, with Lennox and Jack both crouching near, her eyes snap into focus. She looks around, and her expression turns into a snarl. “Don’t just sit there staring. I’m not a goldfish in a bowl. Help me up.”
Jack and Lennox exchange a quick look. They do as she says, helping her into a sitting position.
Before either Jack or Lennox can ask any questions, Deedee coughs to clear her throat and starts giving them answers. “It was a sorcerer,” she says. “Evilest son of a demon to walk the earth. Powerful. Waltzed in here with all the confidence in the world, and he knew what he was after.” Deedee pauses a moment to cough again, but when Lennox moves to offer her help, Deedee shakes her off.
“I tried to stop him, of course, but what could I do?” She shrugs. “Took the gun out of my hands with magic and flung me against the wall.” Then Deedee gives a grim smile. “He probably thought I was done right then. But I ain’t dead yet. Tougher than I look. I put the whole Lair on lockdown. Nothing in or out, not even cellphone signals,” she says.
Jack realizes that this might be why Lennox had been unable to raise Nathanial on her phone, but he doesn’t interrupt. He is going to need the information Deedee is providing. He knows that it will be up to him and Lennox to stop this sorcerer. If it is possible to do so.
“Not that it mattered much to him. He got what he wanted,” Deedee’s eyes turn almost involuntarily to the table on which the Daemonicon had sat, then back to Jack and Lennox. “Near as I can figure, it was him that raised the Hell-beast. Probably did it as a distraction to get a bunch of us, including you two, away from here when he came to call.”
She pauses then as if she is hesitant to say the rest. But then she thrusts out her jaw and continues. “The wight, too. I figure that was his way of finding us. Best guess, he tracked you both here.”
Jack shuts his eyes. Deedee’s words ring too true to be wrong, and he is disgusted with himself. How could he and Lennox have been followed without them knowing?
He shakes his head. “We’ll find him,” he grumbles. “Count on it.”
Deedee looks at him with a piercing gaze. “I am counting on it. A sorcerer with his level of power and the Daemonicon? Ain’t nothing he won’t be able to do. Given sufficient time to master it, he could summon the Prince of Hell himself and command him to do his bidding. Hell, he could become the Prince of Hell, if that’s what he wished. Mark my words, we’ve not seen the end of this by a long way.”
Lennox looks positively frightened at the old woman’s words. Gone is her habitual grin, her playfulness. In its place is an expression of unfamiliar seriousness and worry.
As for Jack, echoes of his premonition are haunting him. Once more, he feels the cold hand of dread clutch at his spine, and the small hairs on his forearms stand on end. He knows that Deedee speaks only the truth, and envisions a world given over to Hell.
For a man who has spent his entire life fighting against the spawn of Hell, it is a future he will sacrifice anything to avoid.
A Demonic Disturbance
Chapter One: Frustration and Death
Jackson Kade is seething with quiet fury mixed with sadness. He and Lennox Valdis have come up to the foyer of the Brotherhood’s Lair along with Deedee Vale and nearly a dozen of the Brothers. They are gathered around Samuel, who is lying dead on the floor.
“You old fool,” Deedee mutters. Although her words are quiet, the walls and floor are made of polished granite. They catch every sound, no matter how gentle, and ensure that all can hear. “I told you so many times this job would be the death of you. But you never listened.”
Deedee is the leader of the Brotherhood, and if Jack and Lennox have a boss, she is it. She is plump and elderly and is sitting on the floor, weeping openly as she cradles the dead man’s head. She is wearing the brown robes of their order, as are the others except for Jack, Lennox, and Samuel himself, who is wearing the dark uniform of a security guard.
The mood in the foyer is somber with an undercurrent of anger, which closely reflects Deedee’s tone. Samuel had been lying face-down when Jack and Lennox had found him but is now on his back. His injuries are clear. His usually jovial face is slack, and his eyes are fixed wide open in an expression of shock. Though there are Brothers with medical training present, they can do no more than offer comfort to Deedee and the rest, murmuring expressions of sympathy and remorse.
It is clear to all that Samuel is far beyond any medical help.
He has been scorched with Hellfire. The lower part of Samuel’s face is blistered and blackened, as is his neck and most of his chest where his security uniform has been burned away. The odor of charred flesh and fabric still lingers in the air.
It is enough to sicken Jack. Enough to awaken his rage. Not just the death of a man he’s known for decades, but the violation of the Lair. Somehow, an unknown sorcerer with demonic blood in their veins has managed to take Samuel by surprise. That is the only way Jack can see it happening, for Samuel had control of powerful weaponry hidden in the walls that could overwhelm nearly any opponent.
But those weapons were never used.
Jack is not the type of person to accept such an attack calmly. He is wiry and unkempt and looks like a bum in his grubby trenchcoat and worn, purple sneakers. But he is not a bum. He is a hunter of demons and other loathsome creatures that seek to spread their vile corruption throughout this city of New Sanctum. With Lennox at his side, Jack has fought wights and Hell-beasts and ghouls and all manner of terrifying fiends that make their way up from Hell.
He wants to curse out loud at this affront. It is all he can do to bite his tongue and keep the expression of his rage to no more than a grimace that twists his lips into a snarl.
Nor is Samuel’s death the only crime the unknown sorcerer has committed. Samuel is the guardian of the Lair. Was the guardian of the Lair. After his death, the sorcerer had made his way down to the lower levels as if he knew just where to find what he sought.
In an act filled with both scorn and disrespect, the sorcerer had systematically destroyed or damaged many of the occult relics and items of power he’d found. But far more importantly, the sorcerer had also stolen the most powerful book of demon lore ever known. The Daemonicon, the Singed Grimoire. With it, given time and if the demon blood in his veins proves potent enough, there is no dark magic that will be out of his reach.
Deedee shifts her thick glasses out of the way and dries her eyes on the back of her sleeve. Then she looks to the Brothers in attendance.
“We will inter him here, of course,” she says. “In a place of high honor. He has a granddaughter. In Italy, I believe. We will contact her, but I doubt she will be able to attend.”
Deedee’s voice is uncharacteristically quiet. It is full of sadness and unexpected vulnerability. She and the Brothers are lost in a world of grief, yet Jack is smoldering like a spark ready to ignite. He wants nothing more than to make the sorcerer pay. He wants to locate him, wrap his hands around his throat and throttle him until his eyes bulge from their sockets and his lips turn blue.
But Deedee has already set plans in place to find out who the sorcerer is and where he has taken the Daemonicon. Those plans don’t include Jack and Lennox, at least to begin with.
“Go home,” Deedee had said when Jack challenged her on it. “Get some rest. Tend to that wound in your leg. We’ll fin
d this son of a bitch and contact you when we do.”
Jack knows that Deedee understands his and Lennox’s worth, and that she will do as she says. But it is not enough. Jack needs to act. The wound in his thigh was a gift from an earlier battle with a Hell-beast, but to him, it doesn’t matter. He does not want simply to wait around for his pager to buzz. It is like being forced to sit out a championship game when he is fit and ready to play. He has to do something, or he will go mad.
Jack is so lost in this private world of outrage and frustration that he flinches in surprise when Lennox gently touches his shoulder. He turns to her, expecting to see her characteristic, playful grin. But her expression is one of empathy and concern. It is like she understands Jack’s need for action and the inadequacy of just standing around.
It is like she understands that Jack has to express the grief and sense of violation that he feels in his own way.
“Do you want to get out of here?” she asks.
Chapter Two: A Course of Action
On another day, Lennox’s tone would have been teasing. Almost flirting, as if she is making her words sound like an invitation and is testing him to see how he will respond. But today, there is nothing more than sympathy and sadness in her voice.
Lennox is tall and athletic and her hair is shoulder-length and bleached white, at least for today. She has that combination of blue eyes and coffee-colored skin that is both unusual and compelling, and to Jack, she is stunning in her leather jacket and jeans. Not even the pair of small bulges at her temples, a legacy of the demon blood in her veins, can detract from her beauty.
Impeccably presented, she is the complete opposite of Jack’s own rough appearance and his unshaven, careless approach to personal grooming.
Jack is her mentor, her protector. He has known her since she was left with the Brotherhood as a baby, and isn’t quite sure if he wants to change the nature of their relationship or keep it the same.
Either way, her sympathy is not enough to soothe his simmering rage. But it is a start. Jack gives an affirmative grunt.
“Let’s go, then,” Lennox says. “See you!” she says, much too brightly to suit the melancholy mood of the foyer, and the Brothers and Deedee offer whatever murmurs of acknowledgement they can muster.
<<<>>>
It gets dark early at this time of year in the city of New Sanctum, but the row house that hides the Brotherhood’s Lair is lit by a nearby streetlamp. Lennox’s Ducati Diavel is parked at the bottom of the stairs. Normally, to avoid attracting attention to the row house, she would have parked it across the road at the Brotherhood’s Temple. But the need had seemed urgent.
Lennox runs a finger along the Ducati’s sleek, black frame to where her helmet is locked, then turns to Jack.
“Want a ride?” she asks, and this time there is a hint of her usual playfulness to go along with her sly grin. She knows that he usually travels by bus or train, and teases him about it every chance that she gets.
The air is cold enough that Jack shivers. He takes a moment to look at the Temple. It is a large, Gothic structure that might have looked ominous if it weren’t lit up so that the stained glass windows shine brightly. Jack is reminded of Christmas tree lights. He knows that he can never again experience what it is like to walk within those hallowed walls, and can’t help but feel disappointed. There are protections in place that prevent all demon-kind from entry.
Jack turns from the building with a bitter snarl on his lips. Samuel’s murder has hit him surprisingly hard. He knows that death is a specter that looms over all life with nothing but time to keep it at bay. Jack has accepted that harsh truth just as he has accepted that he will outlive most others. The demon blood in his veins has granted him both longevity and durability, and he has already watched many people he’s loved pass away.
As for Samuel, Jack hadn’t even liked him that much. He found the old man’s friendly, jovial nature irritating. Yet Jack had known him for nearly half a century, a not insignificant length of time. In some strange way, Jack had expected Samuel to just continue. To be a fixture of the Brotherhood’s Lair and to be there every day, forever.
Now, from this day onwards, the old man would not be there ever again.
“Jack?” says Lennox.
“It’s my fault,” Jack replies. He is unable to keep the sadness and grief from his voice.
Lennox looks at him with a puzzled expression.
“You heard what Deedee said,” Jack says. “The wight we fought at Coven Street station was likely a trap set by this sorcerer. He followed us from there back to the Lair. I should have seen him. The Daemonicon would still be safe if I had. Samuel would still be alive.” There is a deep well of anger in his voice, and it is directed squarely at himself.
Lennox is unfazed. “By that logic, it’s my fault as well.”
Jack shakes his head. “You are still learning. You cannot be expected to see everything.”
“And you can?” She raises an eyebrow, a clear indication that she does not accept Jack’s words. “Jack, I think that wound in your leg is more serious than you want to admit. The blood loss is affecting your judgment.”
Jack glares at her in annoyance, but she continues before he can come up with a suitable retort.
“And even if it is your fault, which it isn’t, what are you going to do about it?” she says.
Jack continues to glare at her for a moment longer. Then he shakes his head, not relenting as much as putting her argument aside. “Deedee has told us to go home and rest,” he says.
Lennox studies him closely. Judging by her half-smile, she has heard the frustration in his tone.
“That’s what Deedee said,” she begins slyly. “And it makes sense. It’s Nate’s job to find the sorcerer. He has the resources for it. When he does, we should be rested and ready.” She smiles more broadly. “So, what are you going to do instead?”
Jack can’t help himself. Despite his anger and grief, he has to grin. Lennox has read him exactly right.
“Nathanial is not the only one who has access to information,” he says. “There are people in this city who have an interest in the supernatural. They tend to know what’s going on. I’m going to see if I can talk to one of them.”
Lennox just keeps smiling. “Sounds good to me. But wouldn’t it be quicker just to give them a call?”
Jack knows that he sometimes fails to consider the technology that now exists in the world. But this is not one of those times. “Do you think I’m the only one in this city who doesn’t have a phone?” he asks.
Lennox doesn’t even hesitate. “Yes,” she says, grinning broadly. “I do.”
Jack is unsure how to respond to that, so he just glares at her again. “Well, I’m not,” he says.
“Fair enough,” Lennox says, still grinning. “Well, what are you waiting for? Get on, and don’t get any blood on my seat.” Then she gives him a wink. “We’ll call it a date,” she adds.
Chapter Three: An Unexpected Message
Jack climbs onto the bike behind Lennox and places his hands around her waist as she puts on her helmet. Jack doesn’t wear a helmet. The restriction annoys him, and he has little fear of injury.
Lennox half turns in the seat so she can look at him.
“Where are we going?” she asks. Her visor is raised and Jack can see her knowing, mocking grin clearly. He is unsure of the reason behind it, but can’t help wonder if it has something to do with how he is holding her.
Whatever the reason, he decides to ignore it. “There is a woman,” Jack says gruffly. “She has demon blood in her. It gives her power over glyphs and symbols. She is called Madame Brigette, and she designed the tattoos we wear. If anyone knows who the sorcerer is, it will be her.”
Lennox’s grin grows broader beneath her helmet. Jack can’t see, but he suspects she has raised an eyebrow. “A woman with demon blood, huh?” Lennox says. “And why haven’t I heard of her before, hmmm?”
Despite looking as if he is stil
l in his thirties, Jack has lived for far longer than most would believe. He has loved and lost many times, and has known all sorts of people. Yet he has a grim and somber appearance that makes others anxious. There are few who feel comfortable enough to tease him. Jack isn’t used to it, and as a result Lennox’s mocking can leave him slightly confused.
But this time, he thinks he understands her intent. He cracks half a smile. “There’s a lot in my past that you haven’t heard about,” he says.
Lennox’s expression doesn’t change. “Really?” she says archly, making the simple reply into a challenge. “Do tell,” she says.
Once more, Jack is forced to examine the relationship he has with Lennox. He isn’t blind to her flirting. He understands the rules of the game she is playing. Yet he is her mentor, and has long ago decided not to mix the one with the other.
Nor is he entirely sure of Lennox’s intent. To him, she is the definition of beauty, the imperfection of the almost-horns at her temples an insignificant blemish. She is also cheerfully outgoing. A ten on anyone’s scale, while he is the opposite. He is surly and gruff and can go for days without having a shower, to the point where even he can sense that he is starting to smell. And he is nearly ten times her age.
Is Lennox really open to something more than they have? Or is she simply playing with him because he is ‘safe’?
It is a question that Jack cannot answer without asking her directly. He knows that this is an opportunity to do so. He could challenge her back and say something like, ‘Why? What does it matter to you?’ and see what she says.
Instead, he leaves the door slightly ajar. “Maybe I will, one day,” he says. “But for now, we need to get to the other side of town. Oracle Drive. Madame Brigette’s Arcane Emporium.”