by Ken Lange
With the primordial fires of Muspelheim lapping at his heels, can he survive long enough to fulfill his destiny, or will the world be burned to ash?
Shades of Fire & Ash
Ken Lange
Published by Ken Lange
Copyright © 2018, Ken Lange
Edited by Danielle Fine
Cover Art by Danielle Fine
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
Acknowledgments
A big thank you to my editor, Danielle, who somehow manages to turn my random thoughts into something readable.
Thanks to James, who’s working with me on the business side of things. Finally, thanks to everyone who reads these stories and enjoys them.
Dedication
To those who do what needs to be done.
Chapter 1
May 1st
I stumbled out of the rear hatch of the Ulfr’s C-130 with my headache in tow, but the warm, dry air of Brasilia soon made me forget all about the pain—and the fourteen-hour flight that’d brought it on.
I owed Hayden big time. I’d never been here before, so I couldn’t simply teleport in, and she’d gotten me a ride on one of her transport planes. Which had saved me from flying commercial, and let me go over Gabriella Medina’s file in comfort.
Up until recently, Gabriella had been a prefect, but she’d somehow given up her coin. Given the timing, it was suspect.
A few months ago, I’d discovered a secret organization of necromancers called the Black Circle, and Lazarus and I had been digging through our staff one at a time to ensure they weren’t members who’d infiltrated the Archive. The South American officials were next on our list.
Still, even without that particular dark cloud hanging over her, Gabriella’s exit would’ve raised a ton of red flags. Over the last thousand years, give or take, no one had willingly given up their position. In fact, the only person to have done so prior to their death had had it forcibly removed by yours truly, just before their execution. Needless to say, there were questions. Most of which we couldn’t answer, thanks to the Governor of South America, Eduardo Hernandez, who wasn’t being remotely helpful. All he wanted to do was sweep the incident under the rug.
The moment my foot hit the ground, a small jolt of energy passed through me. Weird. Although, maybe that happened now when I traveled somewhere new. Honestly, I had very little idea how my abilities worked, so… Mentally shrugging it off, I carried on across the tarmac toward the silver BMW X5M SUV and the man standing next to it, who had to be the local Ulfr Commander Rodrigo Barbosa. He waved, and I returned the gesture. I was about halfway across the expanse when my phone rang. Glancing down, I frowned before fishing it out of my pocket. Lazarus’s name flashed across the screen.
“Hello.”
His tone was smooth but carried a hard edge. “Good morning, Gavin. I’m glad you’ve made it to Brazil safely.”
I stopped in my tracks and took a deep breath. “Thank you. Am I to assume you’ve called for a reason…other than to check on my wellbeing, that is?”
Lazarus let out a nervous chuckle. “Actually, I have.”
This was like pulling teeth. “And that would be?”
He hesitated for a moment. “I really hate to ask this, but is there any way you could return to New Orleans? Immediately?”
Grimacing, I held out my cell and glared at it before putting it back to my ear. “Care to tell me why? I’ve only just arrived and haven’t spoken to Ms. Medina yet. What’s going on?”
Lazarus was quiet for several seconds and when he found his voice, it trembled slightly. “There’s a situation I’d like you to look into for me as a personal favor.” He paused. “Not long ago, a young man was in a near-fatal car accident, but when the doctors went to check on him one morning a few days after, he was completely healed. In their words, there isn’t a mark on him, and all his broken bones mended overnight.”
I shook my head. “That’s very impressive, but I’m not seeing how I fit into this. Granted, it’s weird as hell, but shouldn’t Cole be taking care of the situation?”
Lazarus sighed. “He’ll be there in a few days to give you a hand. Right now, he’s up north collecting the boy’s father, Darius. In the meantime, this is time sensitive, and personal.”
Leaning against the SUV, I rubbed my temple. “Any reason you’re not going yourself then?”
He grumbled something I couldn’t understand. “Give me a moment to get somewhere more private.” The sound of a door being closed came across the line then there was a loud click. “I need to know that you’ll keep this information to yourself.”
I shrugged. “Not a problem.”
His voice dropped to a near whisper. “The young man, Duncan, and his father are the very last living family I have in this world. They’re my sister’s descendants. I’ve kept an eye on her progeny throughout the centuries and done what I could for them…but over the last decade many of my bloodline have met with unfortunate ends. There’ve been far too many accidents for it to be purely random.”
“If you suspect someone knows who they are, why swear me to secrecy?”
He sighed. “I have many enemies, and this may be the work of only one of them. I don’t want to endanger them further by advertising that they’re blood…which is exactly what would happen if I showed up.”
That was a fair point. “Okay, so why send me?”
“Because you’re immune to magic…mostly. Which is far more than can be said for anyone else in the Archive, and Duncan’s exhibiting some unusual traits. In fact, it’s so concerning that someone’s contacted the Vatican for aid. The local priests there are terrified and have taken steps to secure him in a facility where he can’t harm anyone.”
Now he had my attention. “What do you mean by that? Has he hurt someone already?”
His voice shook slightly. “No, but they haven’t told him that his mother passed away in the accident, and I’m not sure how he’ll react once they do.”
Scratching my head, I sighed. “All right, I guess this can wait.” Pushing off the car, I glanced up at Rodrigo, who was holding a set of keys, and shook my head. “Hold on a second.” I covered the mic and sighed. “Sorry, but could I take a raincheck on the vehicle? It seems I’m needed elsewhere right now.”
Rodrigo nodded. “Of course.” He handed me a card. “Call me, and I’ll make sure to meet you here when you return.”
I smiled. “Thanks.” Uncovering the microphone, I said, “Okay, I’ll be there shortly. Just tell me where they are.”
“They’ve taken him to a nearby church where he’s being watched by a local priest.”
That was just great. I didn’t have a lot of use for religions or their houses of worship, but there were lives on the line… “Text me the address.”
He blew out a long breath. “Thank you, and whatever you need, just ask and I’ll make sure it happens.”
I nodded. “Don’t say it unless you mean it, because I’ll call that favor in one day.”
He let out a nervous chuckle. “My offer stands.”
My phone chimed with a text from Lazarus.
You can find him at the Christ Church Cathedral on St. Charles Ave and his name is Duncan Bixler.
Putting the cell back to my ear, I said, “Got it.”
“All right, let me know what you find, and I’ll send over my files on his parents within the hour.”
I rubbed my temple. “Sounds good…and hey, give me the information on the others who’ve been killed in the last ten years. Maybe I can piece together something you couldn’t.”
&nbs
p; He hesitated. “I can do that.”
“I’ll be in touch in a few hours.”
Without another word, I hit the end button.
Seconds later, blue flames obscured my view and when they vanished, I was in my office in Elmwood.
I picked my keys off the desk and headed for the Tucker. Apparently, I was going to church, whether I liked it or not. It was my absolute hope that nothing caught on fire…like me.
Chapter 2
New Orleans was hot, humid, and generally uncomfortable. Which, apparently, was typical for this, or any other, time of year. Personally, I didn’t enjoy being in what amounted to Satan’s sphincter twenty-four-seven and that somehow confused Heather. She said I’d get used to it and wouldn’t notice after living here for a while, but I wasn’t convinced. How was I supposed to miss the sensation of hitting a near-solid wall of wet heat from the bowels of hell?
If it was up to me, she’d wise up and want to move north…like Canada north. Granted, I’d be changing out the eight months of summer for winter, but that’d be okay with me. If you get cold, add another layer. But you can only get undressed so far before being carted off to jail.
It took half an hour to snake down River Road and turn onto St. Charles, where towering oaks lined the street. Behind the ancient trees stood gorgeous storybook mansions. It was a shame they were so close to one another that if your neighbor sneezed too loudly you would hear them on the far side of the house. The only time they thinned out was near the universities and Audubon Park.
The streetcar clattering along the tracks in the neutral ground kept pace with me until it slowed and came to a stop to pick up passengers. After passing Sixth Street, I made the next U-turn to circle back to the church, where there was a parking spot right out front.
Most of the block was taken up by the old European-style cathedral, and it was impossible to miss the sense of foreboding the place gave off in waves. All that was missing from the scene were circling crows and the ominous black clouds of an approaching thunderstorm to really set the mood.
I got out of the car, adjusted my shirt, and gave myself a once-over in the reflection of the Tucker before turning toward the cathedral. The power within the structure grated against my nerves in all the wrong ways, and I didn’t want that to show in my appearance. Taking a couple of deep breaths, I did my best to push down the agitation welling inside me.
Nearly everyone in the Archive believed that mortals were incapable of magic…and they were wrong. While their displays were less spectacular in the immediacy of the moment, given years, or perhaps centuries, they could turn an inanimate object, such as the church before me, into a living entity.
Lost souls came to these holy places to pray, seek enlightenment, and guidance. In return, they gave up a part of their lifeforce. This was an exchange I’d seen a lot of in my life, and when done in moderation, it wasn’t harmful. Sometimes, though, zealots would take things to an extreme. When this happened, it corrupted the power within the object—be it an artifact, tome, or even a building—and twisted it into something it was never intended to be. After the darkness took hold, it was nearly impossible to stamp out, and that was when the real trouble began.
Squaring my shoulders, I stood up straight and headed up the walk to the cathedral. Upon reaching the deep brown wooden double doors, I paused for a moment to make sure my emotions were in check. There was a tingle in the back of my head and my alter ego, the Grim, stirred in the recesses of my mind. It wasn’t the church; I’d been to a few of them over the last several months for one reason or another, and this had never happened.
Kur swam to the forefront of my consciousness as he scanned the area. Something he wasn’t familiar with was here, and it bothered him on a fundamental level. Between his unease, the Grim’s desire to wreck the place, and my own apprehension, I really didn’t want to go in. But, I wasn’t about to break my word to Lazarus over…whatever the hell was giving me the heebie-jeebies.
When I pulled open the door, I was stunned. I hadn’t expected to find such old-world beauty within the city limits. The interior could’ve been plucked out of some wealthy suburb of Paris or London. The rugged hardwood floor was probably original as the main aisle was almost black from foot traffic over the centuries. Ancient wooden pews were symmetrically aligned on either side of the nave with their focal point on the raised pulpit.
Colored light from the magnificent stained-glass wall jutted through the dimly lit interior. Wooden planks lined the ceiling and thick arched beams held the roof aloft. At the far end of the building was the raised chancel where the altar and the priest’s chairs sat in a gilded dome-shaped section. You had to give the church credit: it was excellent at spending other people’s hard-earned money on trinkets. If that cash had been put to good use, they could’ve ended world hunger…but then they couldn’t have gold-plated the entire place.
Even in the face of such beauty, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something terribly wrong here. With each and every step I took, I had to fight the Grim to keep it from encapsulating me. Even so, faint wisps of gray and black dimmed the light around me as he tried to force his way to the surface.
Footsteps echoed from somewhere up ahead and, given the massively creepy vibe, I decided to stay put. Maybe four or five seconds later, a priest made his way into view.
The man was nothing like what I’d expected. He was six feet tall with rugged features, deep, sea-green eyes, and dark brown hair in a punk rock style. In short, he was cool, handsome, and in phenomenal shape. The only things out of place were the bags under his eyes and his five o’clock shadow, which was several hours past due for a trim.
He stopped short, giving me a cautious assessment before slowly making his way over. Once he was close enough, he stuck out a heavily callused hand. His voice came out in a low rumble. “Good morning.” His gaze dropped to my hands, and relief spread across his features. “You must be Gavin.”
Taking his hand, I nodded. “I am.”
He bowed to the cross before turning his attention back to me. “I’m Alfred.”
“Pleasure, Alfred.” And I meant it. This guy didn’t seem like the typical douchebag clergy I was used to meeting.
Alfred was quick to step to one side as he gestured for me to walk with him. “I’m glad you’re here. When they told me about you, I was skeptical, and to be honest, I still am, but I’m a desperate man.”
Arching an eyebrow, I asked, “They?”
His gaze darted to the doors then to me as his voice dropped. “My superiors. They say you’re some sort of cop who handles…the supernatural.”
I chuckled. “Something like that, yeah. But as a priest, I’m sure you’ve dealt with your fair share of the unusual.”
He shook his head. “Not really, no.”
I glanced around the room and sighed. “So, what’s going on, Father?”
He offered me a weak smile. “Alfred will be fine.”
I nodded. “Okay, Alfred, what’s going on?”
He let out a long breath. “Wish I knew… I’ve never seen anything like this before.”
Rubbing my temples, I said, “Maybe if you started at the beginning, it’d help me understand where we are.”
Alfred leaned back in his seat and told me how Duncan arrived in New Orleans.
He and his mother Sarah were here visiting Tulane University from Helena, Montana, which is about four hours from my hometown, St. Mary. They were on their way to the airport when a tire blew. Sarah lost control of the vehicle, causing it to overturn several times. She was killed instantly when her neck snapped. Duncan suffered a number of broken bones, a punctured lung, a ruptured spleen, and a great deal of internal bleeding. He flatlined twice before they were able to stabilize him.
After a week of no brain activity, the hospital reached out to the father for consent for organ transplant. But the very next day, the young man woke up fully healed, bones and all. Of course, the doctors were more than a bit freaked out. It
didn’t help that he woke up speaking a language no one was familiar with.
Alfred’s superior Father George investigated the situation, deemed it a possession, and took custody of Duncan. It was then that Alfred was brought fully into the fold and introduced to the secret chamber within the church where they could perform the ritual of exorcism…which hadn’t worked.
The only thing they’d managed to do was put Father George in the hospital in a coma. At that point, Alfred reached out to the bishop, who in turn got in touch with the Vatican, and somewhere along the line someone called Lazarus. Since then, Father Alfred had been left to tend to the young man on his own, and he clearly wasn’t handling the situation well.
And if this was what I thought it was, it was only going to get harder.
Considering Duncan was down here looking at colleges, he had to be around seventeen or eighteen. That was about the age most within the Archive started to develop their talents. As for why his family’s abilities had chosen to skip so many generations…I hadn’t a clue, but it made a lot more sense than possession.
Apparently, Alfred was a recent nonsmoker, because when he patted his shirt pocket for a pack of cigarettes that wasn’t there, longing crossed his face. Getting to his feet, he gestured to the far side of the church. “Would you like to see him?”
“Absolutely.”
Alfred nodded, pulled a key out of his pocket, and turned back the way he’d come. He unlocked an unassuming door that lead into a narrow passage that was barely big enough for me to squeeze into. The dim lighting made the spiral staircase precarious.
I had to stoop to make it through another doorway. Alfred ran his hand along the wall until he found a switch and flicked it to illuminate a hallway that made the passage above seem spacious. We were both forced to angle ourselves as our shoulders were too wide to fit.