The driver and the passenger both stepped out at the same time. Casually, as if they were paying a call to an old friend. They both wore long, hooded coats, but their hands were empty. Then another two stepped out, and stood in silence. Two men, two women, their features hidden in the shadows of their hoods. One of the women spoke. “Don’t be afraid.”
“Who are you?” Mantu shouted.
“Friends,” the woman said. “Who have traveled far, through long days and dark nights to bring aid to our brothers and sisters.” Then they all made the Brotherhood sign in unison—two extended fingers to their foreheads, their lips, their hearts.
Mantu stepped from behind the pickup and lowered his gun. Ray kept his gun aimed—it could still be a trap. Maybe that’s how the people inside the building had been murdered—by people posing as fellow members of the Brotherhood. But Mantu smiled and made the sign in return. “It’s okay,” he shouted. Ray felt air rush into his lungs. He’d been holding his breath. “Welcome, brothers and sisters,” Mantu said.
—
After the shock had worn off, Konstantin built a fire, and they all sat around it, soaking up the precious heat in the biting cold of morning. The visitors were an odd-looking bunch, growing even more so as the sun illuminated their features. Ray had a hard time guessing their ages—they all looked strangely ageless, with smooth skin but the slow, purposeful mannerisms of older people. Some of the Council members he had met in Eleusis had that same timeless look, so he assumed they were probably higher-ups in the Brotherhood. The black woman, who introduced herself as Oriel, was apparently the leader, and when she lowered her hood Ray saw her hair was shorn close to her scalp. She had a tattoo running from behind her ear down the side of her neck. Mantu hadn’t take his eyes off her and now that Ray could see her more clearly he understood why.
Oriel motioned to the woman next to her. “Sister Surya,” she said, and Surya lowered her hood. She looked East Indian, with large bright eyes that surveyed them all. “Brother Michael,” Oriel said, and the man next to Surya lowered his hood. His face was ruddy and wide, his hair a fiery orange-red. He smiled as if he was holding back a secret. “And Brother Gabe,” Oriel said. The final stranger lowered his hood. He was pale skinned, with angular features and Asiatic eyes. He didn’t smile, but his penetrating, cool blue eyes moved to each of them. His gaze made Ray squirm.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, brothers and sisters,” Claire said. She introduced each of their group in turn. “As you may have guessed, we have a number of questions.”
“Of course, sister,” Oriel said. The fire reflected in her pupils.
Claire clasped her hands. “It is quite fortunate that you found us here. And I assume that tanker there is—”
“Full of grade B jet fuel,” Michael said. He had a heavy Irish accent. “More than enough to get you where you’re going.” He grinned at Ray.
“I see,” Claire said. “But how did you know where to find us?”
Oriel held her hands out to the flames. “We were alerted some time ago of your plans. Since then, we have been following you.” When she turned her head Ray could make out the shape of the tattoo on her neck. A circle with a cross in its center.
“Following us?” Claire asked. Ray watched Oriel carefully. How could they have been followed when they were traveling in a helicopter?
“In vision,” Surya said, and her companions nodded. A gust of wind fanned the fire.
Claire nodded, then looked around the circle. “Where did you come from?”
Oriel smiled. “We come from everywhere, and go only where we are needed.”
Ray shifted on the blanket. He was used to Brotherhood people speaking corny, New Age platitudes, but now was not the time for vagueness. “I think we deserve actual answers,” he said. And immediately regretted it when Claire shot him a not now look. But Oriel just looked amused, and Michael actually snickered.
Gabe finally spoke. His voice was soft. “Our time is short, my brethren. Small talk is wasted breath. Brother William and Brother Konstantin—please use this time to begin fueling your aircraft.”
Burnham looked to Claire. She nodded. “Okeydokey,” he said. “Let’s go, Konstantin. Time to fill her up.”
The Russian stood up. He seemed dazed, uncertain of what was happening. But he followed Burnham to the truck.
Ray wiped his eyes. The early sunlight was making everything look surreal, awash in gold and pastels. The four visitors faced them, outlined by the rays of light emerging from the edge of the earth behind them and wavering in the heat from the fire.
Oriel stood. “Brothers and sister, though there is much I wish to tell you, there is no time left. Eleusis was not the only sanctum to fall. Since you fled, the attacks on our brethren have grown bolder and more deadly. And our enemy has accelerated its attempts to activate the other artifacts. The group in Ethiopia may have been successful, as all of our attempts to scry their workings show nothing but an immense, lifeless blackness for miles. And where the blackness ends, walls of fire spread.”
Claire made the Brotherhood sign.
“But the artifact under her control—the one in the north—is the mother of them all. It was the first of its kind, and if it is opened, the others will activate in turn. It must be stopped, no matter the cost, or we will all be lost.” Reflection from the firelight flared in Oriel’s eyes. “For some of you, the cost may be your lives. But you must understand the gravity of our dilemma, and know that whatever you sacrifice, it is in service to all life on this planet.”
“No pressure,” Mantu whispered.
“It is understood, sister,” Claire said quietly.
“Many things long dormant are awakening,” Oriel continued. “They are roused by the unfolding cataclysm. Some may help us, some may seek to thwart us. The spirits of the earth are crawling from chthonic realms, and the skies are full of the demons of the air.”
Ray’s throat went dry. Mantu was looking at him.
Oriel’s eyes locked on to each of theirs in turn. “This is the last we, as emissaries of the ancient order, can do for you. When you leave here, you are on your own. Do not hesitate, do not tarry, and for the sake of us all, do not fail.”
The four visitors stood together. “Now we will honor the dead,” Oriel said. She and the others filed into the building and disappeared into the shadowy interior.
Burnham walked back to the group.
“We’re filling her up. Looks like plenty to get us to our final destination. Those folks showing up was a heckuva stroke of luck, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” Claire said. “Indeed.” She seemed lost in thought for a moment, then quickly stood. “I think we need to focus on our final preparations. How much longer will it be before we can take off?”
Burnham did some mental calculations. “We’ve gone an awful long way without doing a proper look-see and that always makes me nervous. Maybe two hours. I’d like to take longer, but those clouds in the west are bothering me.”
“Agreed,” Mantu said. “I’m getting edgy.”
Ray nodded. He was feeling it, too—a creeping uneasiness. Something inside was telling him to move. To get away from this windblown, isolated place as quickly as possible.
—
“What are they doing in there?” Ray asked Claire as they stood in the doorway of the copter. The visitors had been inside the building for nearly two hours.
“Performing the Rite of the Dead. When they’re done, they’ll cremate the remains.”
Vinod looked up from obsessively rearranging the contents of his duffel bag. “It is similar to the Bardo Thodol of the Tibetan Buddhists.”
“Violence injures the subtle body as much as it does the flesh,” Claire continued. “The normal transitional process is thrown into chaos. The souls are frightened, shocked by the violence and unable to let go of the flesh, and if they aren’t carefully guided they can wander, become lost, and never find their way back to the Source.”
“Like gh
osts?” Ray asked.
“My mother called them preta,” Vinod said. “She could see them everywhere.”
“Yes, Ray. Ghosts, revenants, shades…all names for the same thing.” Claire rubbed her temples. “But let’s not talk about such things when we have so much to do.” She turned and walked to the cargo area.
Ray left to find Mantu. The sun had warmed the morning air, but not by much. Mantu sat on a cinder block, oiling and cleaning the rifles. Ray mimed flicking a coin at him. “Penny for your thoughts.”
Mantu raised his head. He forced a brief smile, then went back to work.
“Okay, ten bucks for your thoughts Are you okay? I’ve never once said something to you without getting a dose of your comedic bullshit in response.” He put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Seriously, you all right?”
Mantu set down the can of oil and rag. “Yeah, man. I’m just thinking.”
Ray cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, I got it. You shameless dog. I saw the way you were staring at Oriel.”
Mantu shook his head. “No, I swear. I know it’s unlike me, and she’s USDA stamped and certified prime, sure, but there’s something about her…I couldn’t even go there. Can you believe that? Your boy Mantu saying this shit?”
“Never thought I’d see the day.”
“There’s something about them. They’re different.”
Burnham walked past. He and Konstantin had been inspecting the rotors and his hands were black with grease. He nodded toward the building. “They still in there?”
“Yeah,” Ray said. “Doing some funeral rite. Why?”
Burnham glanced around, then leaned in. “Something was bothering me and I couldn’t put my finger on it. Then when I was rolling up the hose, I looked inside the tanker truck.” He glanced at the building. “Then I realized what was odd. There’s nothing in there. Not a thing.”
“What do you mean?” Mantu asked.
“Not a backpack, candy wrapper, water bottle, weapon, soda can, or a sleeping bag. Nada. I have no idea where they came from, but don’t you think that’s weird? To travel with nothing but the clothes on their backs?”
“Yeah, that is pretty strange,” Ray said.
Burnham shrugged. “And did either of you tell them there were dead people inside the building?”
Ray stared. He hadn’t even thought of that.
Mantu just shook his head and went back to cleaning the rifle.
—
“It’s time,” Burnham said. They were all gathered next to the helicopter’s steps as Konstantin did his final check in the cockpit. “I wish we could do more in the way of inspections, but I think we all want to get the heck in the air. Especially with that ugly sky in the west.”
Vinod stared quietly at the building. “Should we tell them? It doesn’t seem right to leave.”
Claire shook her head. “The rites cannot be interrupted.”
“Well, they’ll definitely hear the aircraft warming up,” Burnham said. “If they want to say goodbye, it’s up to them.” He held out his arms. “Say goodbye to the land of the free and hello to the Great White North.”
Ray looked one last time into the darkened doorway, then followed his friends up the stairs as the copter’s engine whined into life.
—
They were all strapped in for takeoff when Burnham yelled in the intercom for everyone to come to the cockpit. He was wide-eyed at the controls and pointed to the building.
“Holy shit,” Mantu shouted.
“We need to help them,” Ray said.
Smoke poured out of the open door of the building, thick and black. Tongues of flame erupted along the seams of the roof, and the copter’s blades were whipping the fire into a maelstrom.
Konstantin started yelling in Russian and pointing ahead. He handed Burnham his binoculars.
“I’ll be damned,” Burnham said. “Let’s go! Everyone, back to your seats and buckle up!”
“What’s going on?” Claire asked.
“Go!” Burnham shouted. “There’s a whole mess of vehicles heading our way. Go now! Let’s get her up, Konstantin!”
They ran to their seats. Ray stared out the window at the growing conflagration and the engine grew louder and higher pitched. Why the hell weren’t they getting out of there?
Vinod rocked back and forth as he fastened the straps.
The copter lifted, then tilted forward. Ray clung tightly to the webbing of his flip-up seat. Then he saw them through the smoke. Oriel, Michael, Surya, and Gabe stepping out from the black, billowing clouds, their clothing whipping in the blast of air from the rotors.
“They’re out,” Ray shouted. “We need to get them onboard.”
But then they were climbing.
—
Ray and Mantu rushed to the pilots. “What’s happening down there?” Ray asked.
Burnham nodded to their left. “Looks like about a dozen vehicles swarming the place. Couple of the jackasses took potshots at us.”
“I hope they don’t have any SAMs,” Mantu said.
“I’m not taking any chances,” Burnham said as the copter banked.
Konstantin shouted to Burnham. “Look. There.”
Ray and Mantu stepped to his side of the cockpit and looked through the glass.
Mantu gasped. “What the fucking fuck?”
Oriel and her crew were walking toward the onslaught of vehicles. Calmly, with their hands held high.
Ray held on to his friend’s shoulder for support. “Oh, no. No.” He could only stare as he watched their bodies crumple.
Chapter 9
Dr. Regardie beamed.
They’d all been called into the multipurpose room. Twenty-three kids sitting in metal folding chairs, facing the front of the room where Regardie stood, waiting behind a lectern. No one had told them there was going to be an assembly before they’d all been ushered out of their rooms and herded down the hall.
Ms. Fortune and two of the other teachers stood in the back of the room. They whispered to one another, all of them oddly animated. That made William nervous. He glanced across the aisle at Victoria and she crossed her eyes and scrunched up her face. But he could tell she was unsettled, too. Most of the other kids seemed apprehensive as well. They’d never been called to an assembly in the evening after dinner when they would normally be playing a last round of Merkaba or studying with their roommates.
Dr. Regardie rang a little bell and the children hushed up. He cleared his throat and smiled broadly. “Welcome, boys and girls. Tonight is a very special night for all of us”—he nodded to the teachers in the back of the room—“but especially for you. This is your graduation.” He let the word sink in. “That’s right, you have all passed your required examinations. Now it’s time to move on to the next phase of your work.” He waved to the back of the room.
Ms. Fortune waddled to the lectern. Someone farted, and a wave of giggling passed through the room. Dr. Regardie glared, but Ms. Fortune ignored them. “Nine of you have done exceptionally well and will be joining me for advanced lessons. If I call your name, please stand and remain standing.”
William’s throat tightened. The room went completely silent.
“Aaron Fowler. Please stand.” Fortune’s teeth were yellow in the light.
Aaron stood. William crossed his fingers under his legs. Please no. Don’t pick me.
“Regina Cicero.”
On it went. Everyone was keeping count. Then there were only two left.
“Victoria Firth.”
William felt woozy, his stomach in knots. Victoria stood. Behind her, Isaac chewed on his thumbnail, his eyes wide.
“And finally, William Davis. Please stand, William. Now everyone give them a big round of applause!” She slapped her thick hands together.
William stood, his legs shaking. Whatever this new thing was, at least he and Victoria would be together. The other kids applauded politely. But they were all clearly confused. “You may be seated,” Ms. Fortune said, huffing a
s she made her way to the back of the room.
Dr. Regardie wiped his mouth with a handkerchief. “For those of you who are not continuing your lessons with Ms. Fortune, I have some wonderful news.” He paused to let it sink in. “You will be going home!”
That got a big reaction. Colin’s smile couldn’t get any bigger, and a few of the kids who hadn’t made the cut started talking excitedly among themselves. But Victoria was just looking at Regardie and blinking, her face expressionless. Home? Were the other kids really going home? So the reward for being the smartest and the best at all the rituals and exercises was to stay here? Blood rushed to William’s face. This was not fair. Not fair at all.
Regardie knocked three times on the lectern. “You have all done exceptional work here. Each and every one of you. You should be very proud of yourselves. There has never been a school like this, ever, in the history of the world.” He held out his arms. “So tonight, we’re going to throw you a party.”
—
When Dr. Regardie handed William his small paper cup of punch, his first instinct was to slap it out of the man’s liver-spotted hand. Something was up with this punch. The way Ms. Fortune had poured it, eyeing the cups carefully so that it only came up to the bottom of the floral design, had made that clear. Then Dr. Regardie made everyone line up and watched them drink it all, at once.
Poison was his first thought. This wasn’t graduation; they were all going to die.
But he was one of the last in line, and the rest of the kids who had drunk it weren’t falling to the floor dead or even acting sick. If anything, they were all growing more boisterous, almost bouncing off the walls. So maybe they weren’t going to die, but his hands still shook as he took the cup from the doctor. The liquid was bright red.
“Drink it all up and you can have your cupcake,” Dr. Regardie said.
He could feel Victoria watching him from behind. He lifted the rim to his lips and tilted it back. The first taste was disgustingly sweet.
“All of it,” Regardie said.
William tilted the cup back. Swallowed.
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