Drogir nodded, but it was Marcus who quickly spoke up. “The chances of that happening are incredibly high,” he said, stroking on his beard apprehensively, “considering Dajjal showed his cards and blasted the location of his hideout to every Journeymen out their, not to mention their allies. Even though he ended up letting us go, I really don’t think he expected us to get out of there alive.”
“I think you’re right on the money with that,” Gage stated, placing his leather jacket over Ady’s shoulders; she beamed as he continued. “They'll expect us to be watchin’ the place and to come for Joey, kickin’ ass every step of the way. Me and my boots don’t plan on disappointing them, but we can’t afford to lose track of our boy. Chances are, any rescue is gonna be from a new hidey hole, wherever that ends up being.”
Marcus was also thinking along the same lines. “I have a few ideas of where they might move him,” he said, “although none of it makes me happy in the slightest.”
Just then, the sound of a screen door slamming cut through their conversation, echoing throughout the cave. The four of them turned to see Seth exiting a single-wide mobile home at the top of the gradual hill. Still inside, Kyle’s burly frame with his turtle shell abs waltzed by and waved. Ady blushed as he was still in underwear only, unabashedly showing off his beastly assets.
The property was messy, like Seth’s blonde hair. He was desperately trying to fix it with his far-too-broad fingers, but it ended up being a pointless struggle, his bed head already back in full force by the time he came down the hill and up to Gage’s side. The look he wore was a stern one, underscored with courage.
“Kyle and I just finished talking,” Seth said, eyeing each of them in turn, “and we've decided to volunteer our services as the operatives you folks need out at Route 666. That is, if you will have us.”
Drogir was surprised the shifter already knew the content of his discussion with Gage’s team. “How did you?” he began to ask, Seth pointing to his ears before the gargoyle had finished.
“Blessed with good hearing,” Seth replied. “My apologies for eavesdropping, but we don’t have many, if any secrets – it’s our way. I think that, coupled with some of our other talents would be a definite plus for this task. That said, we’re not dragon shifters mind you, but can hold our own if shit hits the fan.”
Adrienne's heart raced a little faster at the mere mention of dragons, tempted to look around the woods to try and get a peek at one.
Seth smirked, enjoying her eagerness. “They’re not in our territory, at least not yet; though I think that one’s been contemplating moving his crew in these parts.”
“Who's that?” Gage asked Seth.
“Nobody you should concern yourselves with, considering everything else that's happening.”
“What you’re saying though,” Adrienne continued holding out hope, “is there’s a chance a dragon’s in these woods…”
Marcus was also elated, but he was trying to temper his happiness with a hefty dose of reality. “Guys, wow. This means so much but, you can’t do this.”
Seth grunted with a grimace so deep it looked as if he were slapped by something highly offensive. “Come again?”
Marcus raised his arms, backpedalling, “No… no offense big guy, don’t go all grizzly on me! You haven't known us for all that long and, in all seriousness, we couldn’t ask this of you.”
Seth looked around as if he were searching for someone but couldn't find them. “Well shit, I can’t seem to find the time you had ever asked that of us. Last I checked my friend, which wasn’t too long ago, we offered this to you. Isn’t that what joining up with you entails?”
“Yes, but what about your home?” Marcus continued. “You said it yourself: the desert is a far cry from the lush woods of the Smoky Mountains.”
“Have you looked around?” Seth asked with an almost Gage-like expression on his face. He pointed to the cave entrance where the sleet had picked up pace and the trees glistened in frosty glory. “We were talking about the greenery. The summers here are pretty great but the winter, that is a whole other matter. But enough about the weather, do we have a deal?” Seth shot a hand out.
Marcus hesitated, but eventually grabbed hold, shaking it vigorously.
“The pleasure really is ours, Marcus,” Seth said, “and we will do anything for our family… our crew.”
Back in his office, Marcus couldn’t help but chuckle, recalling that pretty much right after he finished bawling like a baby, again, there was an inordinate amount of hugging; even Drogir got his stony neck snared a couple times. Surely those deeds weren’t intensified at all by the moonshine being consumed before the trio returned to New York… but if the headache still lingering in Marcus’ head signified anything, it was that rotgut definitely contributed.
Speaking of drinking, Marcus lifted his plain white mug off the desk and took a swig of coffee, reviewing the latest batch notes and reports that were coming in faster than they could be read. Thankfully Quileth had joined forces with him for this investigation, using all of their combined resources, connections, and informants to make progress in determining who might have thrown the Order under the bus.
Starting at the top, they began their inquiries around the obvious choice of Councilor Fenran, now deceased after bringing the entire Otherworld to the brink of civil war and beyond. From there, the past two days were very productive and unbelievably eye opening. Corruption abound at all levels of the organization, sometimes hidden deeply in dark recesses while at other times, things were placed right in the open where they still went unseen. It was a sad state of affairs, showing avarice, depravity, and even complacency had taken over to become the norm. All of those things would have to be rectified if there was any hope for the Order to stand against the Noctis.
The latest rabbit hole they were following led them to a technician named Eli Mitchell. Digging into his file, Quileth couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary. In fact, the thing was practically nauseating in its picture-perfectness: thirty-one years old with a beautiful wife named Marie and three children: Emma, Marcia, and Ned. Despite his apparent ‘normalness’, Eli had managed to place wards and cast lasting charms within the headquarters building. Marcus believed he was able to do all this during the refurbishment of the labs, so he was having Henry scrub the place from top to bottom. Nothing had turned up yet, but they had only just started.
Eli had also managed to get a tracking ward embedded on the Odyssey herself, giving Marcus an unshakable feeling of being violated. The ship felt a little less safe and secure as a result, which was probably part of Dajjal’s long term planning. The particular sigil that Eli placed allowed information on the ship’s position to be relayed directly to the Noctis, giving Dajjal a heads up and time to prepare for their arrival. The demon was able to pull together a massive force in only a few hours, which was worrying itself from several aspects to say the least.
Something wasn’t adding up and it was bugging Marcus not to know. All of this activity was quite elaborate, from the skills required to cast spells that could overcome the powerful defenses in HQ, to the ability to draw such intricate wards and imbue them with energy. Now, unless Mr. Mitchell was a savant in the fields of charms and symbology – something that Marcus highly doubted – the technician must have had help.
Who that could have been remained undiscovered and sadly, as Marcus continued to read the parchment, he learned there would be no means of detaining Eli for questioning, nor exacting any punishments should the accusations prove themselves true. He was dead, smited in the most gruesome way along with his wife and children. Their Brooklyn apartment was full of demonic gratitude on full, horrific display.
Marcus dropped the paper, slumping in his seat before placing his elbows on the desk. His head found their way into his hands a few seconds later. “Fuck,” he sputtered, realizing that Eli might have been coerced into all his actions via threats. Oddly, that gave him hope that things could remedy themselves before the e
nd, but nonetheless it was still disheartening. He glanced up and looked at the clock, which told him it was quarter to eleven. The coffee should have kicked in hours ago but the sleep-inducing lull of reading paperwork counteracted the caffeine. As if answering his prayers, Marcus’ pocket buzzed and he pulled out an older mobile phone, flipping it open to look at its small screen.
Brunch @ café? read the text message from Gage. Another popped across shortly after, saying, Have lead on J.
That last part was like a shot of espresso, Marcus typing his reply in record time.
On my way!
MARCUS ARRIVED AT the busy café, the near-midday sun casting bright swaths of light over by the balcony. Searching for Ady and Gage amongst the well-dressed Sunday brunch mob, it didn't take him long to find them – the big guy always stuck out of a crowd, due to a combination of his size and his clothes.
“Hey there, you three,” Marcus said as he walked up to the table, addressing them and the stack of pancakes Gage was tearing through with his fingers. Marcus just stared as he pulled out his chair, Adrienne giggling with her cup of coffee before getting more serious.
“I know that look very well, Marcus,” she told him, “but over time you learn not to be surprised by him.” Her face then went back to a grin. “Sadly, there’s no cure for those kinds of eating afflictions.”
“Afflictions, eh? I’ll do my part in protecting ya from getting those cooties, darlin’,” Gage replied, letting out a grunt as he slathered way-too-much syrup over the fluffy chunks. “Lucky for me, pancakes are so much better than sex, so I should be alright.”
She gave him the evil-eye over the rim of her mug, hoping to God he was not going to mention ejaculating. Marcus smiled as she continued to wait for the punchline, waving down their waiter to place his order: a glass of orange juice, no ice, with eggs Benedict.
“So,” Gage continued as Adrienne braced herself for a zinger, “we received word from Seth early this morning; Joey has been moved.”
With a sigh Ady relaxed, but the same could not be said of Marcus, who was now percolating like a fresh pot of coffee, getting hotter by the second.
Gage saw his expression and continued, “I see that fire in your eyes, buddy. It’s the same one I had as soon as I heard the news. Now thankfully, based on all the intel we were able to trudge through, plus input from that guy ya know from England – Henry if I'm recalling right – we know where those red-eyed fucks have taken J.”
“Oh?” Marcus said with trepidation, not liking the mention of Henry Abington; that could only mean one thing and it wasn't good. “That’s… great news, at least the part about knowing where Joey is, though I’m dreading to hear you say where they have him.”
“That suggests ya already do,” Gage said reassuringly. “He’s over in UK, at the…”
“Torture house?” Marcus questioned, a tightness forming in his stomach when Gage nodded his head. “The one around Whittingham on Eaves Green? Of all the damn places in the world, he had to be taken there. Fuck. Henry called that place, quite literally, Hell on Earth so I can’t even imagine what J is going through right now…”
“Don’t,” Adrienne blurted out. “We always tend to think the worst of a situation and it’s more agonizing when we aren’t sure if we are right, so, in response we imagine things that are even more horrible. All those thoughts will just make you emotional, when you should be focused. The longer you’re in the field, the more apparent that will become.” She reassured him with a gentle rub of his inked hand. “We’ll get him back, Marcus. We all have to.”
“Ady, that sounds great, but it’s so much easier said than done,” Marcus replied, rubbing hers back.
“Trust me with this,” she whispered, “I know all about it.”
The waiter returned to the table, none-the-wiser about their depressing conversation. He placed a well sculpted plate down in front of Marcus and the food looked amazing, lifted right off the pages of a foodie magazine. Both halves of the English muffin were topped with Canadian bacon, a poached egg, and hollandaise sauce, but unfortunately, he didn’t feel as hungry any more, eyeing the cool glass of orange juice to his right.
“Look at ya, Marcus, even eating fancy,” Gage observed, trying to lighten the mood as he shoveled another forkful of pancake into his mouth.
“Some people like refined things, Gage,” Adrienne said, topping off her mug from the silver pot in the center of the table. “I apparently must not… being with you.”
He scoffed and ate some more before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You holding on Marcus? I know it’s a dumb question, but hell, we are all down in the dumps and all we got is each other.”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” he replied unconvincingly. “It’s just gonna take me a while to adjust.”
“Well eat up, my man,” Gage directed. “Then get ya some rest, staying away from the paperwork; Quileth and his guys can manage without ya. We need your brain at full capacity tomorrow.”
“What’s happening then?” Marcus asked, taking a bite of his meal.
Gage smiled, that shit-eating grin filling his face. “We head out to kick some demon ass.”
THE SUN WAS now westering over Central Park as Gage and Adrienne ambled through its dimming light, which acted like a warm blanket against the stark cold of quadruple rows of bare elms dressed with silvery snow.
Gage was beaming, letting out a loud, self-satisfying chuckle. “Did ya see Quileth’s face when I said that the three of us would be the JMs going on this mission? I swear his stripes changed colors right there.”
“That would be because you did way more than just say it,” Adrienne replied. “Demand is probably just starting to describe the way you weren’t taking no for an answer.”
“No shit,” Gage agreed. “I’m unsanctioned for a reason, right? Haha. It’s only right that it be us.”
“Yup. I know that ‘the security of the artifacts’ was his primary concern against you going, but from what you told about him helping when you all came to get me out of the Astral Plane, I think he expected us to be the ones to do this.”
Gage nodded in his gray thermal shirt, tucked beneath a thick bridge coat, its double-breasted front with large wooden buttons keeping the chill at bay.
Adrienne was also dressed for the wintry weather in a down parka and beanie, while a striped scarf ruffled around her neck as they strolled hand in hand down the crisp path of Literary Walk.
“Ya know, I just realized something,” Gage said as they passed by the lamps, adorned with huge, red ribbons. He didn’t use a worried tone, it was more muted than that, but nonetheless drew Ady’s attention.
“What’s that?” she asked as he pulled her in close to his side.
“Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve,” he replied.
She sighed and a big puff of breath steamed ahead of her. “Damn, time sure flies by, doesn't it? With all of this globe trotting, I swear everything is running together. Honestly, I had no idea.”
“Yeah, for real,” he said agreeably, nuzzling her neck with his beard. He loved the way she smelled. “I guess I’m allowed a pass this year, right? All things considered, I haven’t got ya a gift.”
“Well I can’t forgive you for that, Mr. Crosse,” she said disappointingly, trying to hold the seriousness together for at least five seconds. She failed, snickering as she raised her ringed finger for him to see. “You already gave me a gift, silly.”
“Damn,” he replied, feeling himself getting a little excited. “Well then, here’s to my proficiencies at planning ahead! I must say, those hex nuts were a mighty fine choice, lookin’ almost passable as an engagement ring.”
“In the dark maybe,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I love it; though promise me one more thing? Something I really want.”
“What's that, gorgeous?” he asked.
“Bring Joey home,” she whispered. The both of them fell quiet, the gentle crunch of snow beneath their feet complementing the brisk snap in the air.
As they passed by other families and some couples blissfully enjoying their time together, Adrienne recalled the holidays a year ago, when things were happier.
The three of them had gathered in the Lodge for an evening together with no missions or threats of monsters to ruin at least one night. With some mulled wine in hand and Gage in quite possibly the ugliest sweater ever conceived, they sat around a spindly branch that was their Christmas tree. Joey had rigged it with some glowing rune stones and strip of LEDs clipped to a battery for some seasonal flair and despite the lack of splendor, they were all having a great time. Unwrapping gifts as the smell of chocolate chip cookies drifted in from the kitchen, there was pair of boots, a dagger holster, and a soldering iron, all of which reminded Adrienne of the less complicated things in life. She thought those more valuable than anything in the world, especially Gage and Joey, and now Marcus, too.
My precious family, Ady thought, looking up through the branches to the starry sky above. “I hope our J is hanging in there, Gage,” she whispered softly like the wind, “for all our sakes.”
THE HOUSES ON Eaves Green sat quietly off the overgrowth along the country street, the fading light of the day brightening their west facing walls. However, one had always sat more stoically than the rest, unyielding of the less than savory secrets contained within its particular walls.
Number Two was inherently a strange property – one just need ask the people that lived nearby, or even the odd passing hiker or cyclist. Outwardly no different from its neighbors, there were stories about that house and the happenings in it, from strange sights and creatures skulking around to horrific sounds coming from it in the early hours of some mornings. Quite unsure what all the fuss was, locals slapped a haunted label on it and that was enough for them to explain everything they saw, while still maintaining some semblance of deniability if rumors got out of hand.
The Devil's Highway (Journeyman Book 4) Page 4