“You’re saying that Greek mythology is real?”
“No,” Warburton cut in, “not the way you mean. Do not make the mistake of confusing the stories with the realities. The same records that confirm their existence tell of the cults that were built around them. There was no Veil then so the Paragons of that time felt no need to hide their power. The people who witnessed the things these Paragons could do needed an explanation for what they were seeing. Lacking any real evidence or the means to gain it, they came up with fictions that would seem to fit what they witnessed and, more importantly, ease their fear. Thus was born the Greek pantheon. With time, the cults became religions and the religions became mythologies and the stories have endured regardless of fact or truth.”
“Wait, does that mean modern relig-”
“What it means,” Allison said, “is that whenever a group of Paragons or even a single Paragon exists unfettered in the world, history is irrevocably altered. Things change and are never the same again.”
The room was silent for a while before Erin said, “Wow. No pressure there.”
Israel shook his head in disbelief. “So what do we do now?” he asked.
“I managed to-” Michelle started to say and then her phone chirped. She fished it from her pocket and checked the screen. She looked at Warburton and said, “It’s John. He says he needs to talk to you urgently. Something about the DGRI. He wants to join us.”
“Of course.” Warburton tapped a couple keys on her smartphone and there was a loud click from the office door as the locks disengaged.
The sound sent a tingle down Israel’s spine. “Wait,” he said, “are you sure-”
As soon as the door cracked open, two fist-sized cannisters rolled into the room and exploded.
There was a violent flash of light and an explosion of sound unlike anything Israel had ever experienced. It vibrated through him like a jackhammer in his chest. The light blinded him thoroughly and he did an instinctive and useless drop onto the floor in an attempt to avoid it. Though blinded, he was not deafened and clearly heard the stomp of heavy boots as men piled into the room and shouted, “Clear!”
Then, through the blinding white in his eyes, Israel heard John Brindley say, “Contact Agent Namura. Tell him we have secured Trent with Simms as a bonus. I repeat, Romero and Runaway are in federal custody.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“Shit. Hole.”
Jordan looked over at his brother when he spoke and then out at the dry Texas landscape surrounding them. He couldn’t disagree. The sun was setting over hills of dirt, stone, and tough grasses, but there was still enough light to illuminate the details of the small town. Buildings, most of them boarded up businesses, lined the pot-holed main street like something from an old movie. Built mostly from old, dry wood and brick, the town was nearly a cliche of the classic western ghost town save for the utility poles and occasional beat up car of one sort or another. Leticia wasn’t a dead town, but its thousand or so occupants wouldn’t be able to keep it on life support for much longer.
Jordan leaned forward and tapped at the glass partition separating them from the Progeny driver who’d met them at the San Antonio airport. The thick glass rolled down and the driver, a heavy set man in his forties, said, “Yes, sir?”
“How much longer?” Jordan asked.
“About ten minutes, sir. The site is just on the other side of that big hill there but we have to go around it.”
Jordan nodded and settled back into his seat as the glass rolled back up. They had been in the car for over two hours and he was getting restless. For the thousandth time since leaving Atlanta, Jordan studied his brother. Carmine had slept the bulk of both the flight and the car trip, but he was awake then and staring out the window with a scowl on his face. The wounds he had taken in Atlanta were all but gone. His eyes were no longer bloody, his teeth had all grown back, and the other visible wounds were little more than bruises. Another few hours and the only thing remaining of the fight would be the gaps in his facial tattoos.
“How are you feeling?” Jordan asked him.
Carmine kept his gaze out the window and responded with a noncommittal grunt. “I want another shot at Trent. The bastard bloodied me.”
Jordan was silent. Carmine had always been the more hot headed and violent of the two of them. There was something about seeing his own blood, though, that drove him into a murderous rage. Jordan still remembered the first time it had happened: Carmine had been teasing another of the young teens in the foster home they were assigned to and the boy had finally snapped and punched Carmine in lip. Carmine had seen blood on his fingers and flown into a rage that ended with him smashing the boy’s skull with a rock. Jordan had helped him hide the body and they had been on the run ever since. They’d done whatever to survive and that eventually landed them in prison. That’s where the Progeny found them. That’s when The Seer changed everything for them.
“You’ll get your chance,” Jordan said. “Those Sentry people are always showing up. I think now that they know about us and we know about Trent and Simms, they’ll be looking for a chance to nab us.”
Carmine grunted again. “I guess we got a little cocky, huh?”
“You think?”
“Can’t really blame us, though. I mean, we were supposed to be the only ones.”
“That we were. Things are always changing, though.”
Carmine watched the darkening desert race by. “I really, really want to kill that red-headed slut, too.”
Jordan nodded at that. He wouldn’t mind a few minutes alone with her and a really sharp knife himself.
“What the hell are we even doing here?” Carmine said. “Are we supposed to be grabbing somebody in this crap heap?”
“No. Check your e-mail; Ricky sent us the info. Apparently, The Seer wants us here for his big reveal. He says all the people we’ve grabbed has led up to this and it’s going to change the world and blah blah blah.”
“Whatever. So long as we get ours,” Carmine said.
“Always,” Jordan said.
They rode in silence for the next few minutes. The car eventually turned onto a dirt road that led to what looked like an old, three-story brick warehouse with a rusted and partially collapsed chain-link fence surrounding it. As they approached, two men with low slung submachine guns stopped them at the gate. They had a quick conversation with the driver and then waved them into the small facility. The driver guided the vehicle through the lengthening shadows and parked behind the building. He got out and opened the back door on Jordan’s side.
If there had ever been a parking lot, the desert had long ago reclaimed it. Dirt and scrub grass was all that was underfoot and as Jordan waited for Carmine to get out of the car, he noticed an ancient, rusted sign next to a heavy steel door that read, ‘Blackstar Meat Packing: Employees Only’.
“I’ll show you in,” the driver said. “It gets really dark out here at night.”
Jordan and Carmine followed him into the building. The old but still sturdy door closed behind them with a heavy sound that echoed through the abandoned structure. The driver pulled out a flashlight and shone it ahead. That added to the the small amount of dying light that filtered through the six-foot tall windows illuminated a large, open space filled with debris and graffiti. Bulky, rusting machines of some kind with thick pipes and huge pulley wheels stood in the middle of the space. The whole of the room was framed by unsteady metal stairwells that led up to cat walks and small offices above. The age of the place was an oppressive presence.
“Where the fuck are we?” Carmine asked.
“This is the Blackstar Meat-packing facility,” the driver said. “The place saw its heyday back in the early nineteen hundreds. It was a small one, even by the standards of that time, but it was enough to employ enough people to found the town back there. The owner, a man named Owen Josephson, named the town after his daughter.”
Jordan looked at Carmine in surprise. “How the hell do you k
now that?” Carmine asked the driver.
He looked back at Carmine. “I’m a driver and a guard, sir. That means I spend a lot of time sitting around with nothing to do. I got into the habit of reading up on the places I worked just to pass the time.”
“How long have you been here?” Jordan asked.
“About three months,” the driver said, “while they excavated the basement. See, Josephson was one of the faithful. He picked this out-of-the way spot for a very specific reason. You’ll see. This way, please.”
They followed the driver through the rusted out machinery and debris until they came to another door that was at the back of the building. They entered it and found a stairwell leading down in a series of switchbacks that eventually let out into a huge brick-walled basement. Gasoline engines emitted gentle purrs and powered the heavy halogen lights that illuminated the large space and, most of all, the gaping hole in one of the brick walls. The driver put away his flashlight and led them through the hole in the wall and down a tunnel of natural stone that had been shored up with support beams and floored with wide sheets of thick, well-worn plywood. At the end of the tunnel, the sounds of more generator engines blended with the sounds of men working and yelling to one another.
They exited the tunnel into a small chamber that seemed to open into another larger one farther on. When they stepped into the light, a familiar face turned to greet them.
“There they are,” Ricardo Barranco said. He wasn’t a tall man, but he carried himself like he could dunk on an NBA professional despite carrying a few dozen excess pounds around the waist. Even in the filthy conditions that the cave provided, he wore a dark silk shirt with a cream-colored linen suit that contrasted his dark, Cuban features. His black hair was perfectly styled and he wore a dark goatee on a full, round face. “I was starting to think you’d miss it,” he said with a smile and handshake for both the brothers.
“Miss what?” Carmine said. “Why are we in a damned cave?”
Ricardo gestured them toward the far side of the chamber where it opened up into the larger one. As they reached the opening, he waved his hand in a wide slow arc and said, “This is why.”
Jordan took in the sight and found himself speechless. He was standing on a ledge overlooking a bowl-shaped cavern that was a little larger than a high school gymnasium. The sides of the bowl were carved into terraces that all radiated out and up from a central point at the bottom. This point held a large stone table, and each of the terraces was lined with identical tables. Workmen scurried between them, clearing away tools and moving their work lights to the highest points so that the whole of the chamber was bathed in light.
“Carved from the living bedrock,” Ricardo said in a hushed, wonder-filled voice. “The bones of the world. The story is that Owen Josephson, the original owner, received a vision from the Dwellers Between that this place would be needed and that he should build it. So, he did. He built the plant above it and used a labor force of the faithful to carve out this chamber. Then he sanctified it and waited. Sadly, he didn’t live long enough to see this day come.”
“What’s ‘sanctified’ mean?” Carmine asked.
“He bathed the central altar in the blood of the beloved,” another voice said from behind them in even, androgynous tones. “In this case, his daughter’s.”
The three men turned to face the speaker and immediately nodded their heads in a greeting of respect. The Seer returned the nod, but remained expressionless. He was tall- easily as tall as Carmine -and slender. His hair was as black as onyx and hung in straight, shiny panels down to his shoulders from a perfectly straight part in the center of his scalp. It framed his long, angular face and matched his frightening eyes, which were solid black with no hints of white or any kind of pupil. His skin was pale to the point that Jordan wondered if he was an albino. His clothes were all black and consisted of a tab-collared shirt tucked tightly into a pair of black slacks over shiny, black shoes. A silver chain and medallion hung about his neck.
“Seer,” Ricardo said, nearly bowing, “thank you for joining us, sir.”
“Calm yourself, Ricardo,” The Seer said. “We are all where we are meant to be. Welcome, Jordan and Carmine Screed. I am glad you received a chance to rest during your journey to this place.”
“Thank you, Seer,” Jordan said. “Look, about what happened in Atlanta-”
The Seer raised a hand and said, “Let me stop you there. Events in Atlanta played out exactly as I foresaw. There is no need for you to explain anything.”
Jordan winced when Carmine said, “Wait. You mean you knew we were going to get our asses kicked?”
“I did,” The Seer said.
“Well, why the fuck didn’t you warn us?” Carmine snapped.
Jordan was about to say something to calm his brother when The Seer said, “Carmine, might I borrow your cell phone? I left mine in the car.”
Carmine hesitated, then touched lightly at his pockets. “Sorry, I think I left it on the plane.”
“No, you didn’t. You dropped it in that parking lot in Atlanta. Miss Simms found it and, thanks to your total lack of regard for electronic security, Sentry now has everything they need to find this place.”
Jordan and Ricardo both turned slow, angry stares toward Carmine. Ricardo’s face grew red. “Seer, I humbly ask forgiveness for my agent’s lack of discipline.”
“There is no need. I was, in fact, counting on Carmine’s free-spirited attitude to provide our enemies with what they required.”
“But, they’re coming,” Ricardo stammered, “now of all times.”
“Faith, Ricardo. Mrs. Warburton and her Sentry Group have other issues on their plate. They will not come in force, but will only send their strongest.”
“Trent,” Carmine growled.
“Most definitely,” The Seer said.
“What about Simms?” Jordan asked.
“That one vexes me,” The Seer said. “There is something in her Awakening that makes her difficult to see and the Dwellers Between have not seen fit to clear my vision. My instincts tell me she will not be far from Mr. Trent, though, so we will make preparations for both of them.”
“Preparations? You mean a trap, right?” Jordan said.
“I do. We will prepare for them, we will capture them, and then we will use them as the final sacrifices to bring our lord and master into this world so that he may claim it for his own.”
“I don’t hate that plan,” Carmine said.
“I’m so very glad you approve,” The Seer said. “Now, take a few minutes to start your preparations, but return within the hour. I want the two of you by my side for the first sacrifice. I will complete the whole of the ritual while you deal with the Sentry team.”
“Why not just do it all at once?” Carmine asked. “Get this shit over with. I’ll help.”
“A portal of this magnitude cannot be suddenly opened,” The Seer said. “The mistakes we made in Toronto, Oceanside, and Mexico City proved that. No, it must be a gradual build. A black sun rising for the first time in millions of years. Now, go, and return. The sacrifices will be in place shortly.”
The three men nodded in respect again and turned to go.
“Oh, and Carmine,” The Seer said, “the next time you feel the urge to speak to me in anger, please remember that what I Awakened in you I can just as easily suppress again and then moderate your tone toward me. This is your only warning.”
Carmine’s face flushed and then he stammered a quick “Yes, sir” as he left the chamber.
As it turned out, the preparations were minimal since Ricardo had already started them under The Seer’s instructions. Jordan appreciated the simple elegance of the plan and had few suggestions to offer. He was, after all, a thief at heart so, unit tactics and planning weren’t something he specialized in. Carmine, for his part, just wanted to know where to stand and at what point he could start hitting Israel Trent.
It was a little over an hour later that they found themselves
at the bottom of the sacrificial chamber staring down at the naked body of a pale, overweight woman in her early thirties. Her flabby chest rose and fell in a steady, drug-induced sleep. Jordan thought he remembered grabbing her, but couldn’t be sure. There’d been so many that the faces just blurred together in his mind’s eye.
He and Carmine flanked The Seer on either side as he spoke to the gathered Faithful who ringed the lip of the chamber. There were maybe a hundred of them, and Jordan could see Ricardo as well as the driver among the crowd, each face hanging on The Seer’s words of change and promises of reward. When he finished, the gathered men all put both their fists flat against their chests and, in perfect unison, chanted, “Darkness comes! Darkness comes! Darkness comes!”
Then, it was silent save for the purring hum of the generators. The men in attendance stood looking down at them in rapt fascination. The Seer put his hands palm up in front of his chest and closed his eyes to concentrate. It was much the same as he had done when he’d Awakened Jordan and Carmine.
“This is a special place,” The Seer whispered, low enough that only the Screeds could hear. “The skin of this world is thinner here, it is why it was chosen. This ritual in this place with this many sacrifices will open the wider portal for our lord. Each sacrifice will make a larger tear; each drop of blood will smooth his passing.”
Dark purple light started swirling between The Seer’s palms like mist. The twin clouds of light swirled into tiny vortexes and then stretched out toward one another until they met and formed a horizontal column between The Seer’s hands. Silver sparks flashed through the column.
“This world will belong to our lord and his kind,” The Seer kept whispering, “but the chosen among us, the Paragons of their will, we will be as kings among swine, new gods in our own right.” He pressed his hands and the glowing vortex against the woman, one hand at her navel, the other at the base of her throat. The vortex vanished into her skin. Light shone from underneath The Seer’s palms and then slowly faded. The woman didn’t respond to any of it.
Awakened Page 20