by Simon Hawke
He had told her he could make the craving go away and he had, just like that, with a mere touch. He had the power and he told her he could show her how to get it for herself, the power of true faith, not the watered-down version she’d been taught. Had it helped her? Had it given her what she wanted? Had it made her stronger? No, of course it hadn’t, because there were secrets that she didn’t know about, things they never taught you because they wanted to keep you under control.
At first she doubted him, as had all the others, but Talon had a way of making you believe. He had charisma. He had the power. He had shown it to her and he had made her want it, too. And now, for the first time, she was about to find out what it was really like.
It was ironic that Joey finally made his big score. Too bad. He should have just taken the money and gone to Santa Fe, like he had planned. There was nothing stopping him. She had given him the chance. But no. Joey had to have things his way, as always. If he had wanted to go to Santa Fe without her, he would’ve just split and probably not even said good-bye. What she would’ve wanted would have made no damn difference. Just like it made no difference this time. He didn’t like the idea of anybody else having what was his. He didn’t like the idea of her standing up for herself and what she really wanted. So he came with a bunch of tough guys to take her away by force and teach Talon a lesson. Only things had turned out different than he’d planned.
“Goddamn it, Maria, get me down from here!”
She stood before him, watching curiously as he struggled to move, without success. He was pressed up with his back against a large stalagmite, his arms over his head, looking as if he were nailed there. Except he wasn’t. There were no nails holding him, even though he did look a bit like Jesus on the cross, Maria thought, with his long hair hanging down and his shirt ripped away, revealing his bare, slim, and practically hairless chest. There were no ropes binding him, nothing but power. And there was no way he could break free, no matter how he tried.
“Maria! For chrissake! Get me down!”
She cocked her head and stared at him, as if seeing him for the first time. In a way, she was. She was seeing him from a completely new perspective. This wasn’t a Joey who could slap her around whenever she did something to displease him, or whenever he just happened to be in a shitty mood from something else that happened that had nothing to do with her at all. This wasn’t a Joey she had to wait on hand and foot, bringing him and his friends beers while they were watching football, cooking for them, cleaning up after them. This wasn’t a Joey who could tell her what to do. Not anymore.
“Maria! Please! For God’s sake!”
Please. He had never used that word with her before. She smiled.
“Forget it, man,” said Rate, from the other side of the stalagmite, where he was similarly held immobile. “Bitch ain’t listenin’ to you. She’s one of them.”
“Maria…” Joey’s tone became pleading. “Maria, honey, you gotta get me down from here. I came back for you, baby. For you. Maria, I love you, baby…”
“Fascinating, isn’t it?” said Talon, coming up behind her. “He had power over you once. Now he would grovel at your feet if he could. Because he knows that you are stronger now. So he will beg and plead and bargain with you, promise you the world, swear undying love and loyalty, say anything at all to save himself… and then kill you the moment you display the slightest sign of weakness.”
“Maria, don’t listen to him! He’s lying! Baby, I love you! Please… You gotta listen to me!”
“Do you think he sounds sincere?” asked Talon.
Maria looked at him questioningly.
“Well, perhaps he is, right at this moment of emotional duress,” Talon said. “Perhaps he even believes he really loves you. But ask yourself this: If you were to release him now and go away with him, go back to the way things were—assuming that you could—what do you suppose it would be like? How do you suppose he’d feel, remembering this moment? Because he would, you know, for the remainder of his life. He would never be able to forget the power you have displayed. He would always know that it was there, because once you have acquired the power, it never goes away. The knowledge will remain with you always, as will the taste for it. He’d know that he would never again be able to exert dominance over you and, more significantly, he would know that you could always control him. There would be no possibility of equality, because he would always know that you were stronger, that you held the power. And that knowledge would eat away at him, whether he remained with you or not. He Would always be a slave to his knowledge of his own weakness. His only path to freedom would lie in killing you.”
“Maria…: don’t listen to him, baby! I could never hurt you, never!”
“But you’ve hurt me before,” she said softly.
A look of fear came into Joey’s eyes.
“You see?” said Talon. “The weak will always fear the strong. And that which people fear, they hate. That is the way of the world. He will always fear your power, envy it, and hate you for possessing it. But you can set him free. You can take away his fear, his pain, his anger, his uncertainty, his cares… his mortality.”
“Maria, no, don’t do it…” said Joey, his voice cracking.
“He came back to impose his will on you,” said Talon. “To claim what he thought was his. And to kill me, for giving you the power to choose. He does not want you to have it. But now that you have tasted it, can you ever give it up?”
“No,” she said, breathing heavily. “No, I want it. I want more.”
“Then take it. Choose to be strong, Maria. Take his power and make it yours.”
She murmured a spell under her breath and her eyes began to glow.
“Maria!” Joey shouted. “Don’t!”
His dying scream reverberated throughout the cavern.
Even before the echos had faded, Joey Medina’s body went limp and then collapsed to the cavern floor as the glow faded from Maria’s eyes. Talon watched her as she breathed heavily through parted lips, her chest heaving as she trembled with the delirious sensation of life force coursing through her. It was like no high she had ever experienced before.
“God…” she whispered, gasping and shuddering as she closed her eyes in ecstasy.
Talon smiled as she reached out for him. He took her hands, interlacing his fingers with hers as her grip tightened convulsively. It wasn’t a gesture of affection, but of desperation. She needed something to hold on to, something to anchor her to reality. He knew what she was feeling. The sensation of feeding on life force was intoxicating beyond words, absolutely overwhelming. He had experienced it countless times, but there was nothing like the first time, and watching her discover it took him back over the span of centuries, remembering what it was like for him when he became awakened to the power.
It had changed everything for him forever. Beyond the irreversible step of taking a life, a step from which there could be no return, there was the consumption of it, which rendered every other sensation that could be experienced paltry and dull by comparison. He knew, afterward, that he would never eat food the same way again, because the taste of it, no matter how well it was prepared, would seem utterly bland. Besides, there would be no need to take nourishment the ordinary way, although he could, because he would never feel hunger. Not in the same way. Not when life essence could be absorbed directly in a manner that invigorated every fiber of his being.
Yes, he knew how she felt as she hung on to him, squeezing his fingers with surprising strength, trying to maintain some touch with reality in the face of the incredibly powerful force that was flowing through her like a tidal wave.
There would be a very different sort of hunger for Maria from now on. No amount of stimulation would ever be able to compare with this. From now on, she would be hooked on necromancy as no drug had ever addicted her before. And the addicted personality had been already in place when he had picked her out. He had sensed the hunger in her, not so much the hunger for her drug, th
ough that had been the most immediate manifestation of her need, but the all-consuming, driving hunger for something, anything, that would make her feel alive. For Maria had been almost completely dead inside when she had come to him, with just a faint spark of vitality deep down inside that cried for sustenance and could find nothing in life on which to become sated. She was a user because she was used up, and without using something or someone, she would always feel useless. She was the perfect predator.
“Go and rest now,” he told her, releasing her hands. “For a time, everything will feel strange to you. Your perceptions shall be clearer, sharper; your senses shall be more acute. Your thoughts shall race out of control. You will need time to become accustomed to your new strength. Return to your quarters and meditate as I have taught you. Find the stillness. I shall come for you in the morning.”
As Maria left, Talon walked around to the other side of the stalagmite, where Rafe was held immobile by a spell. The others were all dead, their life energies consumed by acolytes Talon had selected, the first of his new necromancers. The big, muscular black man he had saved for last.
“So,” he said, his gaze meeting Rafe’s, “it now comes down to you.”
Rafe met his gaze unflinchingly, defiantly. His dark eyes were cold and hard and filled with fury.
“What a look!” said Talon. “I do believe you would tear me apart with your bare hands if you could.”
“Just turn me loose and see, muthafucker,” Rafe replied through gritted teeth.
“Very well,” said Talon. “Show me.”
He made a brief, languid pass with his hand and Rafe suddenly felt the force holding him against the rock disappear. Immediately, he lunged at the necromancer with a snarl, seizing him around the throat. Talon didn’t even move. His eyes flared with blue light that completely obscured the whites and the pupils and Rafe felt icy tendrils wrapping themselves around his mind, filling his head with a numbing cold fog.
All the strength suddenly seemed to leave his hands and fingers; he barely felt aware of them. Gritting his teeth and grunting, he fought against the relentless numbness that swept over him. His shoulder muscles bunched with the strain, but the chilling numbness was inexorably spreading up bis arms and through his body. He refused to submit, fighting it with every ounce of will that he possessed, but it was useless.
It was as if he were anesthetized, detached, unable to control his body or his mind as the freezing cold permeated his entire being. He became dizzy, and though he tried to fight it, he felt as if he were falling, spinning away into some dark abyss. Inwardly, he screamed with rage and frustration, but outwardly he couldn’t make a sound as his lips pulled back from his teeth and he trembled violently with the effort he was making, all to no avail. His numbed hands slipped from Talon’s throat and he collapsed to the floor of the cavern, still conscious, but unable to move.
“Such primal rage!” said Talon as the glow faded from his eyes. “I am impressed. Your will is unusually strong. I knew you were different from the others. It would be a shame not to exploit such excellent potential.”
Rafe heard him through a fog of numbness. He felt trapped in his own unresponsive body, yet a glimmer of hope suddenly flared within him as he realized that he was not about to die, after all. At least, not yet.
“You are a man who understands power,” Talon said, looking down at him, “but until now, you have only understood brute strength. Now you begin to see what true power can do. It can take your life effortlessly, or it can bring you rewards beyond your imagination. Both are within my control. Meditate on that while you regain your strength. We shall speak again tomorrow.”
Chapter 4
“I think we may have something,” Wetterman said as he referred to a report. None of the others bothered looking at them anymore. The summarized printouts that arrived each morning and afternoon made for boring reading and had quickly palled on them. Wetterman realized that and took it upon himself to condense the process even further in a daily briefing over a late breakfast.
He knew the isolation and the inactivity was wearing on them. He had encouraged them to become more actively involved with the daily activities of the task force, spending more time with the analysts and conducting briefings about what they should look for, as well as working out with trainers each day in the gym to keep themselves fit. He had arranged for them to take martial arts classes and weapons training, which they seemed to enjoy, and he had also tried setting up lectures by NSA instructors in such subjects as data analysis, security and surveillance techniques, but those seemed to bore them as much as the reports. He finally gave up on the idea of trying to turn them into field agents when Wyrdrune pointedly reminded him that they didn’t work for him and unless something broke real soon, they were all going to take a walk. And Wetterman knew he couldn’t really stop them. What would be the point? Legally, perhaps, he might have plenty of grounds, as the situation concerned national security, but realistically he needed them and if they chose not to cooperate, things could get real sticky.
“What is it this time?” Kira asked wearily. None of the possible leads so far had panned out and there had been no reported cases of death by necromancy anywhere. The tension was getting to everyone. “We’ve come up with a rehabilitation center for substance abuse and juvenile offenders near Tucson, Arizona, run by some sort of religious group calling itself the Order of Universal Spiritual Unity.”
“Never heard of it,” said Angelo.
“It’s largely funded by a nonprofit foundation operated by a minister named Armitage, James P., who was ordained through the mail. Nothing illegal about that, though, and on the surface, at least, they seem to have all their ducks lined up in a row.”
“But?” said Billy.
“But when you look closer, things start to get a bit more interesting,” said Wetterman. “They’ve basically dotted every “i” and crossed every “t”, and they haven’t had any trouble, not even the slightest irregularity. The center is located on a mountain called Dragon Peak, the site of the old Kitt Peak National Observatory. The land is owned by a foundation chaired by Armitage, the same foundation which administers the center. It also functions as a natural preserve. For dragons, no less.”
“Dragons?” Wyrdrune said.
“Thaumagenes. “ Wetterman gave them a brief rundown on how the preserve had been established. “The Armitage Foundation contributes heavily to a number of environmental groups,” he continued, “as well as to the political campaigns of some significant incumbents, among them the governor of Arizona and several congressmen and senators, as well as local elected officials. The environmental groups, in turn, help support the preserve and the politicians grease the bureaucratic wheels for the center.”
“So they’re run by a rich and well-connected philanthropist who knows how to play the game,” Angelo said with a shrug. “Doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”
“Except this particular philanthropist used to be a smalltime drug dealer and loan shark known as Jimmy ‘the Arm’ Parker, who managed to plea-bargain several felonies down to misdemeanors and skated on about a dozen other charges due to various technicalities and witnesses suddenly changing their stories or refusing to testify.”
“That is interesting,” said Wyrdrune. “So where did Armitage or Parker get the money to start up his foundation?”
“Are you ready for this?” asked Wetterman. “He won the lottery.”
“You’re kidding,” Angelo said.
“Biggest pot in the history of the state,” said Wetterman. “Over a hundred million dollars. It just kept turning over and over until he won the whole thing by buying one five-dollar ticket.”
Kira whistled. “Wow. What are the odds of that?”
“You want to know? Right here,” said Wetterman, showing her the figure on the report. She whistled again.
“So a guy like this suddenly decides to turn over a new leaf and become a good Samaritan?” said Angelo. He shook his head. “I suppo
se it’s possible, but I don’t buy it.”
“Neither do I,” said Billy.
“It gets better,” Wetterman said. “Parker has some sort of religious experience, changes his name to James P. Armitage, gets himself ordained a minister, then starts the Order of Spiritual Unity, counseling drug offenders, hookers, and juvenile delinquents. He sets up the Armitage Foundation with the help of a team of lawyers and accountants, starts doing good works and cultivating relationships with various politicians, all very low-key and apparently well-intentioned, then sets up the Dragon Peak Enclave as a spiritual retreat, counseling center, and ecological preserve. But he doesn’t hire a single trained substance abuse counselor from either the Tucson or Phoenix areas, or anywhere else so far as we can tell, nor a single qualified therapist. A number of people in the area expressed interest in working for the center, but all of them were told politely that applications were not being accepted. The center uses only peer counselors, and whatever training they receive, if any, they receive at Dragon Peak. And there’s nothing on record about how the center functions, either. We don’t know anything about the specific nature of the treatment or the counseling.”
“What kind of results have they had?” asked Kira.
“They’ve been very successful,” Wetterman replied. “Remarkably so. Not a single case of a reported relapse. And among the court-referred cases of various offenders who went through treatment and counseling at the center, not one has ever had any trouble with the law since being discharged from treatment. In fact, some of the worst offenders chose to stay on at the center as either peer counselors or members of the enclave. Their success rate seems to be a hundred percent.”