by HDA Roberts
"Can you tell me anything else?" I asked.
"Work fast?" Rose suggested.
"I'd bet that's all he can manage anyway," Gabrielle muttered.
"I can literally swat you with my mind," I said. The Demon stuck out her tongue.
I stood, looking around for a convenient dark patch.
"Thanks for the warn-"
Gone again.
"I really hate it when you do that!" I said.
"We know," Gabrielle whispered from somewhere.
I grumbled and pulled my mobile, dialling as I stomped off.
"Hi Matty," Hopkins said, "What's up?"
"There may be a teeny-tiny... apocalyptic situation."
"Oh, what did you do now?" she asked.
Why do they always assume it's my fault?
Don't answer that.
I went back to Blackhold and told Tethys what was happening while preparing for trouble, which is to say changing into something I wouldn't trip over, that was about it. She darted off to call her sister and get her out of Gardenia.
Cassandra and Demise showed up, armed and armoured, while I called Price.
"My lord, it's earlier than you usually call," she said, a trace of admonishment in her tone.
"You need to get out of Gardenia, and I mean right this minute," I said.
"What do you know?" she asked, her tone suddenly serious.
"Big, very bad things happening very soon. Get off that island," I said, "Do you have a place you can go?"
"Me, yes, everyone else... not so much."
"Bring them here," I said, "Anybody you don't want to risk in that city."
"Are you sure about that?" she asked, "That would be fifty-three vampires, lycanthropes and shape-shifters."
"Are you saying that they can't be trusted?"
"Of course not. I'm just saying that it's a lot for you to take on."
"If you don't want to come here, that's up to you. But you can't stay there."
"I wasn't refusing. It will take me time to get everyone moving, how long do I have?"
"It's what... three now? Can you be out of town by six?"
"Yes," she said.
"You know where to come?"
"I do," she said, "Good luck, my lord."
"Thank you, with any luck, you'll be home in a day and everything will be fine."
"Damn well better be, all my stuff is here. Do I need my guards?"
"Not in this house," I said, "But bring them if it will make you feel safe."
"If you say I don't need them, that's enough for us. And thank you."
"My people will take care of you when you arrive. I believe you know Tethys?"
"Of course," she said, I could hear the laugh in her voice.
"Good, then I'll see you soon. Give Crystal my best," I said.
"I think she'd much rather give you hers."
"Oh ha, ha," I said, "Don't fall in the channel on your way here."
She laughed and we said goodbye.
"So... here's the thing," I turned to say to Cassandra, who was glaring like she'd never glared before.
A little while later, Hopkins provided a portal, and I walked through with Demise and Cassandra. We appeared in the Presidential Suite of the Hemmingway Hotel. This one was much swankier than the Red Suite, huge, with gold everywhere, five bedrooms, a massive sitting room, three bathrooms, all of them highly decorated and gleaming.
Hopkins, Palmyra and Killian were standing around a table with their Wardens, a map spread out in front of them.
"It had better not be a trap, this time," Raven said icily as I walked up to them.
"Everyone's a critic," I muttered as the portal closed behind us. There had to be fifty war-mages in that room, and they all looked incredibly dangerous, enough to capture a country, much less a city, and these only a small portion of what the Archons could bring to a fight if they really took the gloves off.
Another portal opened. Kron came through, looking haggard, and very annoyed. Her armour was smoking a little bit.
"She saw me," Kron said by way of explanation.
"Who?" I asked.
Kron muttered something.
"What was that?" I said.
"Sutton!" Kron hissed, "I said Sutton, alright!"
"Really?" I said, faking incredulity, "That dear, sweet, innocent creature that nobody suspected of being a bad egg?"
Cassandra sniggered. Hopkins hit me. I probably deserved it.
Kron glared at me.
"I was wrong, are you happy, you little bastard?" Kron said.
"I'd have been happier if you could have come to that conclusion four months ago and saved me the beatings and the cold shoulder!"
Her Wardens bristled, mine stared them down, mine won. Cassandra could out-stare the gorgon and Demise was just plain scary.
"Alright, everybody who's not an Archon, take five, there's snacks in the reception room," Palmyra said.
The Wardens looked hesitant, but they moved out. I nodded at Cassandra and she followed Demise, who'd moved on cue.
The doors closed behind them and Palmyra moved to stand between me and Kron.
"Alright, you've both been colossal bitches about this whole thing," Palmyra said.
Kron turned to glare at the little Life Mage.
"Matty, you've been like a bull in a china shop ever since you met Sutton, and you've been stomping around like you always do when you're in a mood. You hurt me, you hurt Kron and I'm guessing Killian was slightly annoyed at some point."
Killian wiggled his hand back and forth in a non-committal gesture, grinning evilly.
"You trampled on hundreds of years worth of relationships and expected everything to just fix itself."
Kron was nodding sagely, smiling smugly.
"And you wipe that smirk off your face, Van, Matty was right all along, and you treated him like slime, in spite of him forgiving you not once but bloody twice! You acted horrifically to your brother. And if you'd been with us a couple of weeks ago, maybe Matty wouldn't have nearly died!" Palmyra almost shouted at Kron. She was small, and she was cute, but she could glare like nobody's business; and when she spoke, people listened, because everything she did, she did with the utmost sincerity.
"We five are a family," she continued, "It's a bond deeper than blood, deeper than mind. We rise or fall together. We just got our newest brother. We just became complete again. I won't have another loss. I can't bear it, not again. So you two make up, right here and now! Because we have a bloody Ancient Horror to deal with, and we will not go into this divided, understand me?"
Kron and I stood glaring at each other for quite some time before I spoke.
"I'm sorry, for what's between us," I said, "and I'm sorry for my part in it. I never wanted... any of this to happen."
"You should be sorry," Kron muttered.
"I tried," I said, flopping down onto a convenient sofa.
"You've been an Archon for a handful of months and what have you done? Demolished buildings, made alliances with a brothel-keeper, been predated upon by vampires and started a war with the Pit. It seems everything you touch turns to crap."
I sighed unhappily. Hopkins and Palmyra glared but didn't interfere, this was our conversation.
"I can't disagree," I said, "I got people killed, I wasn't able to stop any of this Source business from happening, I fell face-first into a trap that nearly got me killed and to top it all off, the reason I bothered to even try to fix this mess told me that, by trying, I've made myself too depressing to be with. So yes, you are quite right. I don't know what else to tell you. I did what I thought was right. I've been trying my best, for all the good that's done."
Kron looked at me very intently, and her eyes softened ever so slightly.
"All we can ever do is our best, Mathew," she said, walking over so she could sit next to me, "and our lives are hard enough without dragging ourselves over the coals for our failures."
"I was doing just fine repressing the whole thing, t
hank you very much, you reminded me," I said, my tone taking the heat from the words.
She patted my shoulder, "I suppose that there is the very, very mind you, tiniest possibility that I might have, ever so slightly, overreacted. A little," she said.
I smiled, "That's as good as I'm going to get, isn't it?"
"I'd take it as a win. It's more than I've ever gotten," Killian said.
I extended a hand towards my sister, and she took it, squeezing just a little too hard, making me wince. She grinned.
"Now how about a hug?" Palmyra said.
"Don't push it," Kron replied, "it was fifty years before I'd hug you."
"And then under sufferance," Hopkins added.
Kron glared at them, but there was no menace in it now.
"I swear, ever since the invention of the psychiatrist, the world has become such a touchy-feely-girly place," Killian said, "sharing feelings and all this bollocks. In my day we repressed all this mess and got on with the job!"
"You want a hug, too?" Palmyra asked.
"What am I, eight?" he replied.
Palmyra hugged him anyway, Lord Death blushed.
"Are we done? Can we work now?" he said after Palmyra backed away.
"Absolutely," Kron said walking back to the table.
"Oh, what is Ankiala, by the way? Jen heard the name, dropped the phone and started panicking, so I assume it's bad?" I asked.
"I did not panic, I was surprised," Hopkins said, pinching me, "Bart, this is your area."
"Ankiala is... well, we're not entirely sure, exactly," Killian said, "We know that she's some sort of entity. In fact 'she' may not even be the right personal pronoun, but she may be anything from a kind of Demonic Elemental all the way up to an Old God."
"An Old God?" I asked, "Do I even want to know?"
"Probably not," Killian replied, "They were born of human belief in ancient times, before we could properly conceive of God. Ankiala may not even be one, she's barely mentioned in any of the old texts, which means that she was likely something nasty deliberately forgotten. And they generally only did that when the entity in question is dead."
"How are there things like that knocking around the place and nobody told me?" I asked, "That would seem to be one of those things I should know about!"
So I could keep far, far away from them!
"Jen thought you were too much of a big girl's blouse," Palmyra said evilly, "I was pretty sure you'd cry."
I gave her an evil look, but she ignored me.
"Okay, assuming a worst case scenario, how would you summon one of these Old Gods?" I asked, "Or bring one back, for that matter?"
Killian thought for a second.
"There was an obscure mention of something in a very old text. Damned if I know for sure. It was all very fragmentary," Killian said, "So little information survives from back then, and most of that is either untranslatable, half-metaphor or worse."
"It so happens, I have access to a book that might contain the necessary knowledge," I said.
"What?" Hopkins asked, "Oh, the Grimoire!"
"If there's information on something that dark, she'd probably have it," I said.
"Okay," Kron said, "Killian, you take Graves and consult the book. We'll continue preparations here. Sutton's fortified the central quarter and the Council Buildings, there's a fortress shield and it's powered by something very strong. I need time to break through it. I taught the brat too well."
"Time, you say?" I asked.
Four heads swivelled to glare at me.
"Sorry. Had to."
Chapter 28
Killian came with me; he brought Raven, I brought Cassandra, who told Demise to keep an eye on the planning. She'd be able to dumb it down for me later. Killian didn't open a portal. I felt a flex of Space Magic, and we were suddenly standing outside an entrance to the Archive I didn't recognise. There was one in every major city; I thought that this one might be in Cambridge, but I couldn't be sure.
I checked my watch and saw that it was just after six in the evening. I hoped that Price had gotten out alright; things were likely to go south fast, now that five Archons were turning their complete attention to that city.
Killian led the way inside. Cassandra fell in next to me and we followed. We walked down a short corridor, which contained the entry portal, and into a wide foyer containing the reception desk, behind which was the familiar figure of the Archivist, a snarky, middle aged man with greying hair, wearing a threadbare cardigan.
"My lord!" he said, darting to his feet as Killian approached.
"I never get a reception like that," I whispered to Cassandra, "The best I ever get is a hefty gulp and hasty retreat."
My Warden snorted, "If only people could know you like I do, then you'd get a lot less terror and lot more pointing and laughing," she said nastily.
My position as Lord Shadow remained largely unknown to just about everyone. To all but a few people outside my inner circle, I was simply Mathew Graves, Shadowborn Sorcerer and imminent genocidal maniac. I was not well liked.
The Archivist (essentially a glorified librarian) was definitely not a fan of mine. But I had every right to be in that Archive, so he had to be civil, if not cordial.
The building was comprised of thirteen floors, descending from one at the top to thirteen at the bottom, with each lower level being restricted to those with certain qualifications. The only exception was the book they kept on the thirteenth floor, nobody but an Archon could get onto thirteen, not that I needed to be next to her to speak to Mira.
"I need access to the Grimoire," Killian said, walking straight past the receptionist.
"With that thing, Milord?" he said, gesturing at me.
Cassandra glared hard at him, but he either didn't notice, or didn't care.
"Treat Mister Graves with respect, Archivist," Killian said coldly, "or I'll want to know the reason why."
"Milord," the man said, bowing and walking backwards out of Killian's way.
I followed Killian to the lift.
Wait. Lift? Where the hell was that before?
"Has this always been here? Have I been walking up and down thirteen flights of stairs for no good reason?"
"Old bugger keeps it hidden," Cassandra said with a grin.
"You could have told me!"
"It's more or less the only exercise you get that doesn't involve Nymphs, you randy sod," Cassandra retorted.
Killian and Raven turned to give me a look.
"Not what it sounds like, folks," I said.
"Which part?" Killian said with a grin.
"The randy sod part, I just swim with them," I explained.
"For many Nymphs, that would be considered part of a mating ritual," Raven said.
"Not these ones," I said firmly.
Cassandra sniggered.
The lowest level was the smallest, but it was still pretty big. It was made up of a massive circular platform suspended over a chasm. The other twelve floors were suspended above the thirteenth, in an inverted conical arrangement so that you couldn't fall from an upper level and land on a lower one. The Grimoire rested on a mahogany pedestal. The book was large and black, half a metre tall, bound in leather (that may or may not have come from a sentient source, I didn't want to know for sure). There was a large red circle on the front containing a smaller black circle inside, like my eyes.
Killian pressed his signet to the door and it slid open; a black bridge extended from the viewing gallery to join to the platform.
"Oh, that would have been so useful," I said.
"Finally going to admit that was you?" Cassandra asked slyly, referencing the day I'd broken into that very room (and got away with it, too).
"No, you've been saving an extra-hard smack for the day that I do, I can feel it."
"Hm, maybe you aren't as dumb as I think you are," Cassandra replied.
"You know, you don't see Killian's Wardens calling him names."
"If I stopped calling you names
and hitting you, how would you know I cared?"
"Fair enough."
We crossed the bridge and Mira appeared next to the book.
"Good evening, Master," she said cheerfully.
Mira's body and face were Cathy's. She wore a slightly less conservative Windward uniform than I was used to, tight around the (slightly larger) chest and with a shorter skirt. Her hair was jet-black, like Tethys', and her eyes were mine. The whole look was a little bit sexy.
"Hi, Mira," I said with a smile.
She wasn't Cathy, I knew that, but it was still a little painful.
"You know," she said, "I'm not sure I like that little wrench when you look at me. Time for a change, I think."
Her image flickered, and suddenly she looked very different.
Much more like Tethys, actually, in her body and her facial structure; but with a trace of Hopkins in the nose, Cassandra's lips, Crystal's hair and Kandi's freckles. She wore Gabrielle's tight black clothes. Tiny familiar pieces in a brand new whole.
"You like?" Mira said with a twirl, "I think I'll call this look 'Sinful Sister'."
"Oh my," I said, trying not to drool.
Mira smiled.
"Hey, pervert, we're in the middle of something, here," Cassandra said, elbowing me.
"Right, right," I said. Killian was sniggering off to one side, "We're in something of a pickle," I said to the Avatar of the Grimoire.
"Well, you brought Death with you, I didn't assume you were planning a picnic," she said sardonically, moving over to stand next to me. I'd only seen her a few hours ago, but she was looking at me like she hadn't seen me in years.
"Would you happen to know anything about an entity called 'Ankiala'?" I asked.
I didn't think it was possible for her to pale, but she pulled it off.
"Where did you hear that name?" she asked.
"Tell you later, what does it mean?"
"Ankiala was what modern Magicians refer to as an 'Elder Goddess', which is actually something of a misnomer, being as she was by no means a 'God' by any stretch of the imagination. Entities like her were born out of human emotional response in a time when you were essentially food, being hunted by everything from mortal predators to immortal monsters. She was merely one of dozens of such forms, some of whom were benign, like the ones associated with healing and the home. The 'good' ones actually helped mankind to thrive and drive back the darkness and barbarity of pre-civilisation.