by Simon Hawke
“Hell, you didn’t do it.”
“I may as well have. If I’d stayed put, they’d still be alive.”
“Yeah, and we wouldn’t know the balloon’s gone up,” the marine replied, as several vehicles came up with flashing lights and sirens blaring. “Guess the waiting’s over, huh?”
“Yeah,” said Angelo grimly. “Guess so.”
Chapter 7
Within an hour after the attack, they had the three deceased assailants identified. They all had records, drug possession, dealing, burglary, theft, assault and battery… and they were all from Arizona. What was more, each of them had previously been remanded to the drug rehabilitation center at the Dragon Peak Enclave near Tucson.
“That’s it,” said Billy. “We’ve got to get to Tucson right away. Simko and Sebastian are going to need a lot of help.”
“Not so fast,” said Wetterman.
“What the hell do you mean, not so fast?” said Wyrdrune. “What more proof do you need?”
“Suddenly proof isn’t something that we lack,” said Wetterman grimly. He held up a sheaf of printouts. “It’s been coming in since last night. We’ve now got documented cases of necromantic murders in Chicago, Los Angeles, Denver, Detroit, and Washington, D. C. Not to mention the attempt on Angelo early this morning. And at least one of those perpetrators is still at large.”
“Jesus,” Kira said.
“A well-coordinated murder campaign, breaking out in several areas at once,” said Billy. “They know we can’t split up. And we can’t be in all those places at the same time.”
“Hell, how many of them are there?” Wyrdrune asked. “I thought we’d accounted for most of them by now, except for Beladon and maybe a couple of others.”
“Wait a minute,” Angelo said. “You guys are forgetting something.”
“What?” said Kira.
“Those guys who tried to put the hit on me were all smalltime criminals—druggies, mostly. Where do they get off suddenly becoming necromancers? I thought you had to go to school for that. College and then graduate programs in thaumaturgy, right? Nobody gets that powerful from any home study course, and judging by their sheets, those guys would’ve been lucky to have gotten out of high school. And I wouldn’t take any bets they did.”
“He’s right,” said Wyrdrune. “In all the excitement, I never even thought of that!”
“So then how come they were throwing bolts of energy like full-fledged mages?” Angelo asked.
“Good question,” Wetterman replied. “I can run a check on them, but I think it’s a safe bet none of them ever graduated from any thaumaturgy school, much less became certified. Not with those kinds of records.”
“So then… how?” Wyrdrune asked.
“They were conduits,” a new, mellifluous voice said. They stared with astonishment at the stranger who had suddenly appeared sitting in their midst.
“She’s back,” said Billy softly.
Kira had once again become transformed. It had taken place so quickly that none of them had seen it happen. One moment she was sitting there on the couch, and the next she had disappeared and in her place sat a woman with long, thick, coppery red hair and skin that was a light shade of reddish mocha, almost golden. Her eyes were an unusually bright and startling shade of green, so intense they seemed to glow, and her features were delicate, yet sharply chiseled, like those of some ethereal Aztec princess. She was barefoot and wore a long, sheer white gown covered by a matching, open robe that draped gracefully over her slim form. A slim chain of gold hung around her waist as a girdle and a thin band of hammered gold was worn as a circlet around her head. It was set with a single gem… a sapphire.
“What the hell!” Wetterman exclaimed, jumping to his feet. He snatched a small handheld radio from his belt. “Security!”
The doors opened immediately and the marines on duty outside came running in, sidearms drawn.
“Wait!” said Billy, holding his arms out and moving quickly to stand between them and the woman.
“There is no need for alarm,” the woman said calmly. “I am not here to harm anyone. And you cannot harm me. You can only destroy Kira.”
“Hold it,” Wetterman said, extending a hand out toward the marines, who stood in combat shooting stance, pistols aimed with safeties off and held rock steady.
“She was here before, Brian,” Wyrdrune said. “Billy and I saw her appear briefly last night. It’s a metamorphosis, like I used to exchange with Modred and Billy with Gorlois.”
“Who are you?” Wetterman asked.
“I am called Alira, one of the spirits of the runestone,” she replied. “I cannot maintain this form for long or it will deplete our store of energy. Listen carefully, for you now face the greatest threat of all.”
Wetterman waved his hand, indicating for the marines to lower their sidearms.
Alira turned to Angelo. “The assassins whom you faced were acolytes acting as conduits of power for one necromancer. They are now necromancers in their own right and will grow stronger each time they absorb more life force. However, with each large expenditure of power, such as was necessitated by their attack on you, they must replenish themselves or grow weak, age rapidly, and die. By themselves, they do not possess the skills of genuine adepts. Whatever knowledge they possess can be only rudimentary at best and depends upon their psychic link with their master. In effect, they act as conduits for his power, though they are capable of replenishing that power for themselves, aided by their link with him. Or her.”
“Who is it?” Wyrdrune asked. “Beladon?”
“It is possible, but there is no way to know for certain,” Alira replied. “There are still nine Dark Ones who remain unaccounted for. They are Vorstag, Adreia, Torvig, Zelena, Corvald, Darok, Sigrid, Talon, and Beladon. Of them all, Talon and Beladon have always been the strongest. Talon has the vigor and vitality of youth on his side, Beladon has the experience and strength of age. Both have always been ruthlessly ambitious. For one necromancer to control so many acolytes and use them as conduits of power, it is necessary for him to have achieved bond mastery over others, so that he could draw upon their power to revitalize his own and multiply it many times.”
“You mean he had to kill the others?” Wyrdrune asked.
Alira shook her head. “No. That would not be bond mastery, but murder. And it would not provide continual reserves of power for him to draw upon as his own energy became depleted. For one necromancer to achieve bond mastery over another, the bond slave must be held in stasis, alive to recover life force energy naturally over time, but held restrained, unable to act or exercise free will.”
“The way you once held the Dark Ones prisoner?” asked Billy.
Alira nodded. “The spell is both difficult and demanding. It consumes a great deal of energy. Whichever of the Dark Ones controls the acolytes, he must have subdued several of the others and placed them in spell bondage to control such power. Perhaps he has even subdued them all, which means that only one remains. We were able to effect our spell of bondage only by placing ourselves in stasis, surrendering organic form, so that only the spirit remained. The alternative would have been to become that which we had fought, killing constantly to keep the life force energy replenished. That is what one of them is doing now, through his acolytes.”
“So as they kill, he takes the power?” Wyrdrune asked.
“He allows them to retain enough to replenish themselves, and perhaps gain a bit more strength, but the rest he draws back into himself, through the link he has effected between them. And that, in turn, is reinforced by the life forces of the necromancers whom he holds in spell bondage. The more the acolytes kill, the more life force their master can draw back into himself and the more he can allow his acolytes to retain, thereby becoming stronger in their own right.”
“But they still need him to work their magic?” Wetterman asked.
Alira nodded. “Without him, they are merely humans.”
Wetterman gave a sl
ight snort. “Right.”
“Forgive me. I meant no offense. I meant only that if the necromancer is destroyed, the acolytes lose all their power.”
“Well, that simplifies things,” Wyrdrune said. “We’re going to Arizona.”
“But in the meantime, what about these acolytes?” said Wetterman.
“You’ve put this big juggernaut of a task force together— use it,” Wyrdrune said. “The President promised us the full resources of the ITC, the Bureau, and whatever federal agencies were required. You’re the man in charge. The acolytes will have to be your responsibility while we go after the necromancer who controls them. Simko and Sebastian need our help and they’re going to need it fast. I want to be on that plane to Tucson within the hour.”
“Suits me,” said Angelo. “I can be packed in ten minutes.”
“Packed?” said Kira. Alira was gone and in her place Kira stood, frowning slightly with puzzlement. “We going somewhere? What’s going on?”
Wyrdrune and Billy exchanged glances. “I’ll tell you all about it on the plane,” said Wyrdrune.
Simko was escorted into an office inside the mission church. As he came in, the man behind the carved wooden desk got up to greet him.
“Mr. Simko, is it? How do’you do? I am Brother Talon. Please, sit down.”
Simko took the chair across from the desk as Talon examined his business card. “You’re a private investigator from New York?”
“That’s right,” said Simko, crossing his legs and leaning back comfortably. He casually glanced around.
“How may I help you?” Talon asked.
Simko reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the photograph they had been using. “I’m looking for this girl,” he said. “Her name is Heather Makepeace, but she’s a runaway, so she may be using another name. I’ve been hired by her father to find her. The girl’s a minor who fell in with a bad crowd and got involved with drugs, took up with an older man, and ran away from home… well, I’m sure you’ve heard it all before.”
Talon took the photograph and studied it. “Yes, unfortunately. So many of these stories are alike. By the time they get to us, those of them who do, so much damage has already been done…” He shook his head. “It’s a tragic thing. We do our best for those whom we can reach, but there are so very many of them…” He allowed his voice to trail off as he continued to study the photograph. After a moment, he glanced up and handed it back. “She’s not one of ours, I fear.”
“Are you sure?” said Simko. “I mean, you get a lot of people coming through here and she may have altered her appearance since this was taken… cut her hair, dyed it, maybe lost some weight?”
“Well… here, let me see it again,” said Talon, reaching for the photo. Simko handed it back to him. Talon studied it again for a moment or two, then handed it back and shook his head. “No, I’m quite sure I’ve never seen this girl before.”
“You see all the people who come through here?” Simko asked.
“Every one,” said Talon. “I am personally in charge of our addiction program. The nature of the counseling we do here is rather intense and very personal. The interaction between the patients and the therapists is prolonged, dramatic, and psychologically very intimate. And I become personally involved in every case. It can become quite stressful for both the patients and the therapists, but it’s the main reason for our high success rate. If she had been here, I’m sure I would have remembered.”
“Well, it was worth a shot,” said Simko, getting up. “But keep my card, just in case. We know she came to Tucson, we’ve traced her that far. It’s not exactly a small town, but you never know, she might show up here. If she does—”
“I’ll be sure to let you know at once,” said Talon, holding up Simko’s card.
“Thanks. I appreciate your time.”
“It was no trouble at all, Mr. Simko. I hope you find her. And if at any point we can be of any assistance with our program, we’ll be happy to help in any way we can. We do not charge for out services, as we are a nonprofit institution, but private and tax-deductible donations are always appreciated.”
“I’ll pass on your offer to my client,” Simko said. “And once again, I appreciate your taking the time to see me.”
“As I said, Mr. Simko, it was no trouble at all. It is our ministry to serve as best we can.”
“Well, you’ve got quite an impressive place here. I was admiring your gardens on the way in. It’s all very quiet and peaceful, and the views are just spectacular.”
“Yes, it’s beautiful country,” Talon agreed.
“Nothing like New York City, that’s for sure,” said Simko. “A fella could get used to this. It’s real pretty out here. Mind if I look around on my own a bit before I head back to town? Or would that interfere with your activities?”
“Not at all,” said Talon. “Feel free to look around the grounds as much as you like. But please respect the privacy of our residential quarters. You might enjoy the gardens or the telescope in the ramada on Observation Point. Just follow the garden path. It loops around right past it.”
“Telescope, huh? Yeah, I’ll have to check that out.”
“You should be able to get a lovely view of the sunset. However, I wouldn’t advise that you linger until it grows dark. The road down to the highway is not illuminated and it can be treacherous. Aside from that, the dragons become more active after dark.”
“They do, huh? Are they dangerous?”
“They can be, but the greatest danger would be hitting one with your vehicle. You could become seriously injured. Your vehicle would certainly be damaged, and a rare creature would be killed.”
“Oh. Well, I’ll keep that in mind. “ He glanced at his watch. “I won’t stay too long. Just long enough to enjoy the view. Don’t often see country like this. Thanks again, Brother. You’ve been very helpful.”
“Not much help at all, I fear.”
“Well, look at it this way,” Simko said. “At least we know some place where she’s not. “ He shrugged. “It’s a start. Thanks again for your time.”
“You’re very welcome.”
As Simko left the office, he checked his watch again. It was after six in the evening, but he was not concerned about the time. It was not an ordinary watch. It was also a miniaturized T-scanner, so cutting edge and state-of-the-art that only a few government agencies had them. It was powered •. thaumaturgically etched and animated chips, worth a small fortune and usually employed only in the most advanced Al computers. These had been specially designed and enchanted to react to thaumaturgic trace emanations—to detect magic.
At the press of a button on the side of the watch, the function of the T-scanner was activated and if there was magic present, the face of the watch would glow and the digital display would give a reading based on a scale from 1 to 100. The strength of the glow corresponded to the strength of the emanations present. Simko wanted to double-check what he had just seen in the office. The digital display showed 100 and was blinking on and off rapidly, indicating that the reading of the emanations present was higher than the scale could indicate, and the glow of the watch face was strong enough to read by in the dark.
“Gotcha,” Simko murmured softly to himself.
No, Mr. Simko, a voice suddenly spoke inside his head. I’ve got you.
The next thing Simko knew, he was somewhere else. It was dark, pitch-black, and he felt something hard, uneven, and unyielding against his back. He suddenly discovered that he could not move. His arms were down by his sides, spread out slightly, but they were immobile, pressed against something hard. He felt cool stone beneath his palms.
A fire blazed up, and then another and another as tall, heavy bronze braziers erupted into flame, one after another in rapid succession, and for the first time, Simko could see his surroundings.
He was in some sort of subterranean chamber, a cave or a cavern, with massive stalactites hanging down from the ceiling. The walls were veined with crystal,
which reflected the glow of the flames and amplified it. A short distance away, mere was a large pool of water, fed by an underground spring and bridged by a natural stone arch that led to what looked like some sort of surreal church altar carved from stone and surmounted by a massive crystalline formation that resembled organ pipes in a cathedral.
“Is this what you really came looking for, Mr. Simko?” Brother Talon said, stepping into his field of view. Behind him was a tall, incredibly massive black man with a shaved head, a pencil mustache, and a neatly trimmed goatee. He wore jeans, black cowboy boots, and a torn white shirt. He looked like a bodybuilder, an ambulatory mass of improbable-looking muscle.
“That fascinating little watch of yours,” said Talon. “May I see it?” He held out his hand.
Simko felt the metal bracelet snap and the watch flew to Talon’s outstretched hand.
“Ingenious,” said Talon, examining it. “What will they think of next?” He tossed it aside. “Really, Mr. Simko, did you think you could employ magic in the presence of a necromancer without his being aware of it?”
“Well, actually, yes, I did,” said Simko. “Guess I was wrong, huh?”
“Who sent you?”
“The ITC,” Simko replied.
Talon raised his eyebrows. “You surprise me with your candor. I expected you to lie, or bluster with manly recalcitrance.”
“What would be the point?” asked Simko. “You could easily get the truth out of me.”
“True,” said Talon, nodding with approval. “I’m pleased to see that you’re a sensible man. That should make things a great deal easier for both of us. “ “I’m all for that.”
“Good. Very good, indeed. So, you are in the employ of the International Thaumaturgical Commission. “ He said it with amusement. “How very grandiose. How did they find out about me?”
“Data banks, I should imagine,” Simko replied. “Simple research. Well, maybe not exactly simple. These things are all relative, aren’t they?”
“Yes, those wonderful computers you humans have developed. And now infused with magic. I never cease to marvel at how far you’ve come. And so tell me, are you here alone?”