The Daemonicon Chapters: Books 1 - 3

by Ryland Thorn

  Instead of obeying the voice’s command, the boy turns to face the gap in the ward.

  “The woman is interesting,” he says. Despite the weight of evil within the ward, the boy shows no fear at all. He simply states his case calmly, in a way that suggests he is mildly interested to see what the voice might say in reply. “She is a powerful sorceress. And she is beautiful. She might be useful.”

  There is a pause. Then, — Her true nature is suppressed —

  Somehow, the non-speech of the evil thing within the ward contrives to sound sibilant, like the words of a snake.

  “Yes. But I sense there is an artificial aspect to that suppression. It may be able to be lifted. We may be able to free her true self,” the sorcerer says. “If we can, she may prove a worthy companion.”

  The sorcerer’s words are enough to drive Jack nearly insane with rage. They are an insult, a provocation, and his lack of ability to do anything about it is maddening. For the first time in his life, he feels truly helpless.

  “Leave her alone!” Jack gasps. He struggles for all he is worth and can hear Lennox struggling also. But the invisible hand that holds them is as unyielding as railway iron.

  The boy and the dark presence in the ward ignore him completely.

  There is another pause. Then, — We will see — the voice acquiesces. Then it reaffirms its former words. — Kill the other —

  With a slight bowing of his head, the sorcerer turns back toward them.

  As casually as if he is waving at a friend, the sorcerer mutters a word and reinforces it with another of his fluid gestures. Once again, Jack feels nauseous, but that is the least of his problems. The invisible hand tightens around him like a fist made of marble. He is caught in a vice-like grip that feels like the weight of mountains closing against him.

  Jack has no way to fight. As he struggles to gasp one last breath and the air disappears from his lungs, the last thing he hears is Lennox trying to scream through the spell the sorcerer has placed over her mouth. The sound of it is muffled and heart rending. Jack can feel the fear and panic she is putting into her efforts.

  He knows that there is nothing more to be done. As his vision starts to fade, he tries to tell her it will be all right. He tries to reassure her, and to promise that whatever happens, he will always be with her.

  Nothing comes out. The pressure is too great. He cannot fight it.

  Jack regrets that he and Lennox will not be able to go on their date. He once more experiences a feeling of profound relaxation.

  Then he knows nothing at all.

  Chapter Nineteen: Resurrection

  Jackson Kade has lived for more than two hundred years. He is durable, ageless, and recovers quickly from wounds that might be fatal for others. But he is not invulnerable. Three times in the past, Jack has been wounded unto death. Each time, he had thought he was done.

  Beyond expectations, all three times he woke with his vitality restored, his own death rejected.

  Jack has no understanding of the mechanism that keeps him alive. Is there a part of him than hangs on long after a normal man would have died that allows him to recover? Does his entire body regenerate the way a normal liver has been shown to do?

  Or does he truly die, his soul extinguished or simply departed, only for it to be magically recalled to his body after an indeterminate length of time?

  Nor does he have any clue if there is a limit to his resurrections. For all Jack knows, he might recover from being shot or drowned, but if he were to perish through magic, through those methods of dispatch that he has used against demon kind for so long, then that may be it. Or, like a cat, there might be a limit on the number of lives he can live.

  Jack doesn’t know. Nor does it seem wise to test the extent of his immortality. If he finds his limit, how would he then step back from the line?

  When the sorcerer’s invisible fist squeezed the life out of him in the abandoned subway station, he had no expectations of ever seeing daylight again. He thought that his last moments would be filled with regret at having failed to protect Lennox.

  Jack thought he would be crushed into nothing, and that his fight against the creatures of Hell would finally be done.

  But at some point, he found himself floating on a cloud of nothingness, relaxed and at peace, just as he had been when the minotaur had flung him into the stairs.

  For the longest time he does nothing but drift. He is aware of people around him, but they don’t matter. He can hear them speak, but their words have no impact. It is like they are nothing but dreams, insubstantial and unimportant.

  Time passes.

  Gradually, Jack becomes aware of more than just the voices around him. He becomes aware of his body once more. It aches inside and out. It feels as if he has been pounded from head to foot with hammers, hard enough to bruise him all over.

  It is uncomfortable enough that he tries to shift in his sleep. He hears someone groan out loud, but isn’t yet conscious enough to recognize the sound of his own voice.

  A small part of him understands that at some point he needs to wake, but just at that moment the pain is more than he wishes to bear. His consciousness fades enough that he can retreat to his place of relaxation again.

  Some time later, he finds himself once more close to regaining consciousness. This time, the pain in his body feels more distant. It is as if his wounds have largely healed. He can feel the softness of the mattress beneath him, and there is a gentle smell of lavender infused into the sheets on his bed.

  For some moments, he just lies there, enjoying the sensation.

  Then, between one heartbeat and the next, his memories come flooding back.

  He recalls the subway station with enough clarity that he can feel the grime of the floor on his skin. He remembers the pain of his head cracking into the stairs as a result of being flung through the air by the minotaur. And he knows again what it feels like to have the breath crushed out of his chest by the sorcerer’s invisible, powerful fist.

  Much worse than any of that, he remembers the sound of Lennox struggling futilely against the sorcerer’s magic while trying to scream.

  “I sense there is an artificial aspect to that suppression. It may be able to be lifted. We may be able to free her true self,” the sorcerer had said. “If we can, she may prove a worthy companion.”

  The memory is like a jolt of electricity shooting through Jack’s nerves. It is more than enough to shock him out of his comfortable slumber. “Lennox!” Jack shouts loudly enough that the single word tears at his throat.

  He finds himself sitting up on a bed in what looks like the Lair’s medical ward where Lennox had spent the previous night. He is panting as if he has been battling a wight, and he has electrodes and wires attached to various points on his skin.

  Jack finds that he is wearing a flimsy, pink hospital gown and nothing else, but at that moment his attire is the last thing on his mind. All he cares about is that he left Lennox with the sorcerer and whatever vile creature had been hiding within the confines of the ward.

  All that matters is getting her back.

  Without pausing for thought, he tears the electrodes from his skin and looks about for his clothes. But his shirt, trousers and trench coat are nowhere to be seen. The only things in the room are medical monitoring equipment, the bed he was lying on, and a single chair in the corner. There is no room for anything else. Not even a side table.

  It is a room that is as close to the cell where they tortured the tar man as it is possible to get.

  Jack swears under his breath. He stands up and nearly loses his balance. He is surprisingly weak and has to steady himself with a hand on the wall to keep from falling.

  On another day, this unexpected weakness would have puzzled him. He would have tried to figure out why. But today, he needs to find Lennox, so he uses the wall for support and steps toward the door.

  It opens before he can get there. A nurse walks in and looks him up and down.

  Jack does
n’t know her, but she is as tall as he is and is built solidly. “Jackson Kade, where do you think you are going? You are not strong enough to be out of your bed.” She has a square face and the formidable expression of someone who is used to being obeyed.

  Jack’s first instinct is to push past her. However, as weak as he feels, he is unsure if he will be able to do so. She folds her arms across her chest and glares at him as if she is reading his mind.

  “Lennox,” he blurts. “I need to find Lennox.”

  The nurse shakes her head. “You need to get back into bed. You need to regain your strength. Once you’ve done that, then we will see.”

  Jack snarls in anger. He will not let this woman prevent him from going after Lennox. Nor does he have the inclination to argue with her. He sets himself to shove her out of his way and is astonished when the nurse not only reads his intent, but acts first, pushing him gently but firmly back to the bed.

  Such is his weakness that Jack has no choice other than to sit down heavily on the mattress. He is a hunter for the Brotherhood of Perdition. It is his job to send powerful creatures of demonic derivation back to Hell.

  It is humiliating how easily she is able to control him. But he is not one to give up. He thrusts out his jaw and says, “I have to get to Lennox.”

  There is no give in the nurse. “I don’t know who or where this Lennox is, but the only thing you have to do is stay here until you are stronger.”

  Jack is not used to weakness. He is not used to being unable to make his own way, or to being told what to do. Yet he recognizes that in this instance, he has little choice.

  He tries again anyway. “You cannot stand there forever. As soon as you’re gone, I will be out of here, and there is nothing you can do about it.”

  The nurse gives him a sardonic grin. “I can lock you in,” she says.

  Jack has no argument against that. The room has no windows. There is no way out except through the door.

  The image of the room being akin to a prison cell is complete.

  He gives up. “Tell Deedee I am awake,” he says through gritted teeth. “I need to speak with her.”

  Chapter Twenty: Deedee’s Words

  The nurse agrees to let Deedee know and leaves Jack alone in his room. There is a distinct click as the nurse closes the door behind her. Jack doesn’t need to check. He knows that she has made good on her threat to lock the door.

  He has no option but to sit where he is and try to figure out what has happened.

  He is shocked by how weak he feels, but also worried that his various injuries have faded so much. The bruises on his arms and legs are no more than memories. His forehead, where he smashed into the stairs, should have been angry and swollen. Yet when he touches it, there is nothing.

  Even his thigh where the shrapnel had been embedded feels whole and healed. Completely, as if the shrapnel has been gone for more than a week.

  In fact, all of his various injuries have healed almost fully. He has no more than echoes of any of them.

  It is like he has been reborn, weak but whole.

  Which indicates that he has been unconscious for days, waiting for his body to heal.

  And that thought scares him more than anything.

  There is no calendar in the room. No clock with the date on it. Nothing that will tell him how long he has been here. And yet, when he reaches up to his face, he can feel no stubble on his cheeks. Perhaps not so much time has passed as he fears. Perhaps the Brotherhood has found some way to accelerate his healing.

  Or perhaps someone, the nurse maybe, took the time to give him a shave while he slept.

  Jack has no way to find out. All he can do is sit, wait, and hope that the worst hasn’t happened.

  Eventually, the door opens again and Deedee is there. She is the same as ever, a tough old woman wearing her Brotherhood robes and thick glasses, and resting much of her weight on her cane. She looks him up and down and almost allows herself a quick grin at what he is wearing. Then that expression is gone, replaced by a complex mix of determination, sadness, and acceptance.

  “Glad to see you breathing,” she says.

  Jack isn’t interested in small talk. He glares at her, blaming her for keeping him locked in this room when he could be out hunting for Lennox.

  “Where is she?” he demands without preamble, his voice harsh and full of worry.

  Deedee doesn’t seem surprised by his question. She takes a moment to nod, then answers openly. “We don’t know,” she says. “When we tracked her phone, we found only you, dead on the floor. And what remained of whatever creature it was that you fought.”

  Jack wants to snarl at her, to rail in anger. Instead, he just tells her what happened. “The sorcerer was there. He is young, but very powerful. He wasn’t alone. There was something else, something malignant, guiding him. And a Hell-beast in the form of a winged minotaur.” He turns from Deedee and looks at the floor. “I wasn’t strong enough. They took her and left me for dead.”

  Deedee is silent for a moment. Then, “I told you not to engage,” she said. “I told you to observe and report back.”

  There is both accusation and judgment in her words, and it hits Jack like a brick to the face. He flinches at the realization that Deedee blames him for Lennox’s loss.

  His first instinct is to fight back. To blame her instead, for keeping him locked in this room when he could be out looking for her.

  Then he understands that there is truth to her words. He is the senior hunter. He should never have let Lennox approach the ward. They should have contacted the Brotherhood first.

  It is a bitter pill to swallow. “I will get her back,” he grates.

  But Deedee is having none of it. “No, you will not. Did you hear what I said? You were dead! You were not breathing. Your heart was not beating. When we got you back here and hooked you up to the monitors, we could find no brain activity in you at all! It is only because you are you that we did not send you to be cremated!”

  Such is the old woman’s vehemence that Jack has no choice. He looks at her and is surprised to see not just her anger, but a fragility that he has never seen in her before. In a sudden insight, he understands. Deedee is the heart and soul of the Brotherhood. She is its mother, and the Brothers are her children.

  In recent days, she has lost Samuel to the sorcerer. And now Lennox. Despite the fact that she blames Jack in no small part for the latter, she doesn’t want to lose him as well.

  Even so, he has no choice. Lennox is his partner, and perhaps something more.

  They were planning to go on a date.

  “Yes, I will,” he grates.

  Deedee is as immovable as a mountain. Yet she calms herself. “No, you will not,” she repeats. “Even if I could trust you enough to put you back in the field, it is already too late. You were dead. For three days, you were dead. Even those of us who know that you have died before were giving up hope. But then, like some sort of miracle, you started breathing again. And you started to heal.” She is speaking calmly, without undue emotional weight on anything she says.

  Yet now her voice becomes harsher. “You have been unconscious for more than a week as your body has healed itself. That’s more than ten days in total since your visit to the station. Even if Lennox is still alive, which I very much doubt, she has been without her suppressant for all of that time!”

  Deedee’s words hit Jack as hard as a hammer. He can’t breathe and is very lucky that he is already sitting down. He understands the implications of Deedee’s words. He has seen Lennox lose control of her demon blood before, and had feared that she wouldn’t be able to come back.

  To be without her suppressant for so long … Jack understands that there is no way her humanity is still in control.

  Deedee could have read Jack’s understanding in his expression of horror or the way he grips the bed for support. But she continues anyway, spelling out the only possible conclusion.

  “If Lennox still lives, she is lost to us.
She has become the very thing that we fight.”

  The truth in Deedee’s words is beyond awful. The premonition Jack had felt in the storm comes crashing back to him. Convulsively, he stands up, but he doesn’t have anywhere to go. Nor does he have any words to express what he is feeling. All he can do is stare around in wild denial as a huge wave of grief rears up and swallows him, bathing him in pain and hurt.

  He finds himself howling out loud like a madman, spinning until he is dizzy and then crashing to the floor. Once he is there, he buries his face in his hands and howls like an unhinged beast.

  It is all he can do to express how much he is hurt.

  For some moments, Deedee stands in the doorway and does nothing but watch. Then, silently, she turns to depart, leaving Jack alone in his grief.

  <<<>>>

  It is a long time before Jack regains control of himself. Nothing has changed. He is still in his recovery room, still as weak as a day-old kitten, and still wearing his pink hospital gown.

  He knows the truth of Deedee’s words. By now, Lennox is either dead or completely taken over by the demon inside her.

  This reality is as inescapable as the fact that her capture is on Jack’s head, and no-one else’s.

  In all the years Jack has been alive, he has known many others who maintained control over their demons by means of a suppressant. He has known many to go without that suppressant for too long.

  Never once has he heard of a case where an adult, once taken over, has been able to wrest control back from the demon inside them.

  There is no real hope of Lennox being an exception.

  Yet that is what Jack is counting on. He has witnessed her come back from a point where he’d thought her lost for all money. Perhaps, if he can find her, she might be able to do that again.

  Either way, as he sits there in his recovery cell, he silently vows that he will give her that chance. When he regains his strength, he will do everything in his power to find her, and to bring her back.