by Josh Vogt
Sydney chuckled. “I could walk in any time I wish and they know it. I prefer to leave them quivering in fear while I turn my attention to more important matters. Now that the fiery little tart is out of the way, you and I can finish what needs to be achieved.”
“Which is …?”
“Still playing the ignorant?” A sigh. “Even if you truly didn’t know before, I refuse to believe your visit to the garbage man was in vain. You know the opportunity we face here.”
Ben chewed the inside of his cheek. Pretending to not know wouldn’t get him freed from these bonds any more than trying to struggle out of them. His biggest chance would be to go along with Sydney as far as he could—as if he had a choice.
“The new member of the Pantheon,” he said.
Sydney punched the air. “Precisely! Like you, I became aware of this being’s existence and determined its dual nature. The implications are astounding. We are going to summon it, and then we’ll—”
“Get ourselves killed tryin’ to control it?”
“Don’t be so melodramatic.”
Ben cocked an eyebrow at the mage, dressed in his tuxedo t-shirt and cape.
Sydney shrugged. “Assuming this new being shares the personified characteristics of the other Pantheon members, it will have intelligence. It can be communicated with. I intend to negotiate. I will provide guidance for a wandering soul that has yet to choose its place and purpose in the world.”
“Guidance counselor to the gods,” Ben said. “Not really the career I woulda picked for you.”
“Hush, now.” Sydney gestured, and the urmoch once more positioned themselves beside Ben. A few touches crumbled the rest of Ben’s bonds into nothing. Clawed hands tugged him upright, and he shook his head to fight off a wave of dizziness.
His muscles ached and twitched as he worked feeling back into his limbs. Bloody buckets, he hated being so old. He tried to avoid looking at his exposed right arm, with its black veins and decrepit flesh.
“Come along quietly.” Sydney headed for the door without looking back. “They have orders to slash every tendon in your body if you disobey.”
Ben glanced at his reptilian escorts. Even with his magically reinforced uniform, they’d likely filet him before he could sneeze. So he sloped along after the mage, though still alert for any opportunity. Without his mop or Carl, he could do little to cause a distraction, but that didn’t mean he shouldn’t be ready to go after Dani, assuming he could find his way through this warren of tunnels.
And a true maze it proved to be, with featureless walls and random turns that confused his sense of direction within minutes. By the time Sydney stopped at another door, Ben couldn’t guess whether they’d made any progress or just gone in a huge circle.
This new chamber had walls of pure silver, scrubbed to a frosty shine that blurred reflections. No furnishings, no obvious source of light for the soft blue illumination. No markings. Just a big, metal box.
The urmoch pushed Ben to the left and shoved him up against the wall, which pressed cold against his back and arm. Sydney stood in the center of the room, a faint smile on his lips. Finally, he nodded, as if satisfied with the blandness of the place.
“This is neutral ground,” he said. “Cleansed from all traces of either Pantheon.”
Ben’s eyes widened as he realized what this meant. “You handed Dani over to the Cleansers? Don’tcha know what they’re gonna do to her?”
“Of course. Do you think I brought you here by accident? Now she’ll never have to worry about tedious things like controlling her power ever again. She’ll know true freedom.”
“She could burn the city to the ground!”
“And wouldn’t that be such a beautiful thing?”
Ben rubbed his forehead, trying to burrow through the skull and massage the ache in his brain. “I keep forgettin’ how barmy you are.”
Sydney produced a can of red spray paint and sprayed a six-foot-diameter circle on the floor. He filled this with jagged lines, as if someone had thrown a pentacle to the floor and shattered it. In the spaces between the lines, he drew signs of containment and shielding, and then ground his heel over several glyphs, smudging them just so.
He tossed the paint can over one shoulder, where it struck one of the urmoch in the chest before falling and rolling up against a wall. The entropy mage turned, now holding a gleaming knife. With a wave from their master, the urmoch shoved Ben over.
Ben tilted his chin up. “A’ight, then. Quick and clean, if you got the balls.”
Sydney tsked. “While I’d delight in splashing buckets of your vitae across the floor, that might draw the attention of the Primals themselves, and I’d rather not be around when they come to feed. No. A few drops and dribbles will do. What better blood to summon the new Pantheon member than that which mingles Purity and Corruption, hmm?”
After a stinging cut on the meat of each thumb, Sydney yanked Ben’s hands over the edge of the circle and let several drops splatter the floor. Those from his left were bright red, while the issue from his right held a dark purple tint.
Once released, with fists squeezed to clot the cuts as quickly as possible, Ben found himself pulled back against the wall by Sydney’s reptilian comrades.
Sydney raised his arms, the stained knife poised like a morbid orchestra conductor. “To the one born into the center of all things,” he called out. “We invite you into our midst. Bless us with your presence and accept the offering of life I provide.”
“And don’t kill us, eh?” Ben muttered.
A gust blew into the room from another realm. It brought scents of rotting vegetation, and hot oil. Images flashed through Ben’s mind—an infinite golden desert with a sun-bleached skeleton at its center, its tusked and horned skull larger than a cruise ship. A black river pouring over the edge of a cliff and plunging into a green void. A vulture descending, claws and beak aiming for the eyes.
He squinted against the rising wind and banished these glimpses. While Sydney’s talent lay in commanding the force of entropy, one didn’t need any special power to summon a member of the Pantheon. The trick lay in getting their attention, and offering something worth the time and effort it took them to show up. And the more Pure or Corrupt the offering, the likelier it’d be accepted.
Anticipation knotted in his chest, hard and thorny. The few times he’d interacted with the Pantheon before proved harsh and unwelcome. Nothing he wanted to experience again. Now Sydney wanted to conjure this rogue demigod and treat it like a babe to be coddled and manipulated. Even if he succeeded in drawing its presence, there was no telling how it would react.
Sydney stood stiff, his entire focus on sustaining the summoning. The urmoch remained unmoved on either side of Ben, though a white film had slipped into place over their eyes to protect them from the gritty wind. Ben braced himself for a sudden, violent entrance of the being. It might provide the distraction he needed.
The room shuddered and the air in the middle of the circle warped and bulged, as if something enormous sought to shove into their dimension. Then, with a swirl of black wind, a bag lady appeared within the ring.
Ben blinked in surprised recognition.
She wore mismatched high heels, one leopard-spotted, the other red leather—both with heels snapped off—a ragged pair of camouflage canvas pants with one leg shredded to reveal a knobby, scarred knee, and a muddy jeans jacket five sizes too big, with a garbage bag pulled over like a rain poncho. A cascade of Mardi Gras beads hung about her neck, and strands of oily black hair drooped out from underneath a floppy gardening hat. One mold-green eye had mascara smeared around it, and sloppy lipstick made her mouth look twice as thick as it really was.
“Hail to thee, Filth, daughter of Contaminate, consort of Disease,” Sydney said, backing up and bowing. “You honor us.”
Filth spoke with a fake Southern Belle accent belied by a screeching undertone.
“Who has the audacity—!” Her shout cut off into a hacking wheeze as s
he focused on the men. Once she recovered, she spat at their feet. “Oh. You two. I might have known. Whattya want?”
Sydney and Ben exchanged looks, mutually indignant that the other had such a well-known reputation with the Pantheon.
Filth held out a dirt-encrusted hand, which had a piece of barbed wire twisted around the ring finger. Sydney shuffled forward and pressed his lips to this, careful to not step over the ceremonial border. Blood stained his mouth when he straightened, but he smiled, widening the cuts.
“Beautiful Filth, matron of depravity, it was not my intent to impose myself upon you. This humble servant merely sought to speak with the fledgling member of the Pantheon. We mortals have felt its presence, of which you are no doubt aware. I seek your blessing in rooting out its hiding place before the Cleaners and their ilk discover it first.”
Filth stared at Sydney as she scratched herself under a sagging breast. Then she snorted. “Bugger off. It’s none of your business.”
Sydney flinched and the slightest stammer invaded his voice.
“Mistress, if I’ve offended …” A cough. “Perhaps I didn’t present my intentions clearly enough. Surely you’re aware of the consequences if this unique being is not persuaded to join you as soon as possible.”
“What of it? You think we can’t handle a little competition?” Another snort flicked mucus onto her lips, which she licked off. “The situation is under control.”
Despite being sandwiched between the reptilian servants, Ben thoroughly enjoyed seeing Sydney squirm under Filth’s half-mad gaze. Just so long as she didn’t turn it his way.
“I … ah … don’t doubt at your capability,” said the mage. “However, knowing the Pantheon’s … er … hesitancy in acting directly against one of their own number, I thought to offer myself as a willing servant in tracking down the newcomer and convincing it to see things our … your way.”
Filth pulled her lips back into a snarl, showing crooked, yellow teeth. “And so you offer unwilling blood? That which is sullied by Purity’s stink? You think we’re so easily satisfied?”
Sydney stalked over and shoved Ben down, cracking knees against the floor. His head was yanked back and the sticky blade pressed against his throat. He stared up at Sydney’s flared nostrils while the mage spoke through clenched teeth.
“I will give you his still-beating heart if that’s what it takes.”
Ben grunted. “I ain’t gonna get a say in this, am I?”
“And what do you think I’d do with him?” she asked. “Feed him to my kittens? I’d rather see you reach into the hollow of yourself and give me your own black muscle.”
Sydney’s grip on Ben loosened. “That would rather nullify the point of me living to continue serving you.”
“Yeah, well, it’s the price I require for the information you seek.”
Sydney’s fist squeezed around the knife hilt and the blade crumbled away. As he stalked around the circle, the urmoch placed their talons on Ben’s shoulders, keeping him kneeling. Ben tried breathing again, one quivering inhalation at a time. He’d been certain the next thing he’d feel was the heat of his own blood spilling down his chest.
Sydney glared at Filth, who watched his pacing with a smug expression. “I do this for the furthering of our Pantheon,” he shouted. “What reason would you have to keep me from success? I see in your eyes that you have the answer I need. With this newcomer devoted wholly to Corruption, you’d finally have the imbalance necessary to overthrow Purity once and for all.”
Filth’s bag lady appearance shredded and flew apart like paper mache, leaving a black hole with the vague shape of a woman. White eyes blinked out from the void. Blue lips puckered and sucked at Ben’s mind while gray worms wriggled along its edges. Words pounded like shots from a psychic nail gun.
“You do not command me, fleshling. Remember who bestowed your power upon you in the first place. Your request is as foolish and ignorant as your pathetic attempts to bludgeon your way into my favor. Do not think to summon me again without consequences.”
Her human illusion drew back together, hiding the vision that had Ben wanting to surgically remove his stomach so it could never contain food again.
Filth sucked on a crumpled cigarette and toyed with a fish hook that pierced her earlobe. “Was there anything else?” she asked sweetly.
Sydney turned and slammed a fist into a wall. The silver lining flaked away. The urmoch guards flinched and hissed at the mage, their talons retracting for a moment.
In that instant, Ben hopped into a crouch and snatched up the spray paint can. He somersaulted forward, muscles wrenching in the effort. As he came up, he spun and triggered a red stream into the urmochs’ unblinking eyes as they lunged for him.
A claw batted the can out of his hand, but their other swipes went wild as they yowled in pain. Sydney stepped in Ben’s way, surprise giving over to rage. A black aura flared around his fists.
Ben pivoted and sprinted straight at Filth. A claw raked down his back. It snagged on the last inch of the swipe and dug into a hip as he stumbled over the line of the summoning circle. Filth raised her hands, but he collided with her and sent them both toppling.
With the circle broken, the spell dissolved and released the magical bindings that kept the Petty in the room. She fled back into her realm, and Ben clung tight, taking himself along for the ride.
***
Chapter Eighteen
Dani clawed up out of smothering grogginess. Her eyes felt glued shut, and her arms and legs moved as if someone had strapped fifty pound weights to each joint. With a sucking breath, she regained enough clarity to shake awake. It took three slow blinks before her eyes fully opened. Even then, her surroundings blurred in and out of focus, shadows turned to light, and her depth perception refused to cooperate.
She snatched vague details from her wavering vision. A tiny room, no more than six foot square. White walls. Mirrored ceiling. A small ledge that doubled as her bed. No door. No window. Not even a toilet or sink.
Dani sat up. Then she spent several minutes fighting the nausea that simple motion induced. As her stomach settled from its flips and flops, her thoughts leveled enough for her to make further observations.
On the upside, she hadn’t been woken by being kissed, licked, groped, or otherwise forced into contact with anyone else. The room didn’t offer any visible sources of contamination. Initial sanitation assessment: promising.
On the downside, her janitorial uniform had been replaced by another white robe, and she was once more barefoot. All of her personal cleaning equipment had been taken as well. Not so much as a dollop of gel to clean her hands.
She scrunched into a corner of the cot and tucked her feet under, reducing exposure as much as possible. On her own, then. Not even Tetris would drop in for moral support, and she couldn’t depend on being rescued. And it was her fault.
Face it, Dani. You made this choice. Sure, you felt justified, but you put yourself here. She gritted her teeth. And you don’t have the luxury of moping. If anyone is going to get you out, it has to be you as well.
Another inspection confirmed the absence of any obvious exits. If she guessed right, the Cleansers would want to keep her subdued until they were ready for whatever came next. So they’d be monitoring her. If she’d woken too early, likely someone would be coming to administer another dose.
She had to get free. Fast.
She reached for her power, trying to summon enough emotional distress to trigger whatever disaster she could. But it felt like groping for greased marbles at the bottom of a tub of oil. The energies slipped away no matter how hard she fought to draw them to the surface.
Whatever they’d drugged her with made it hard to focus. Couldn’t keep it together long enough to control the power for more than a few seconds. Even when she did manage to send a few tendrils questing through the room, they found nothing to latch onto. It was as if her cell floated in an elemental void.
Anger pricked her. Everyone
wanted to use her for something. They considered her little more than a gun to be pointed at one side or the other. They all thought she could be charmed or bullied into submission. That she was some lost little girl who would cling to the skirts of whoever looked the safest and gave her enough treats to quiet her bawling.
She’d teach them to underestimate her.
She coiled up her power in preparation to unleash as much as she could at once. She’d tear the room down around her if she had to. A room had to be built on earth at some level. Earth meant earthquakes. Or there had to be some water source she could divert into a flood to crack the walls. She’d rather die trying than remain a prisoner.
She bundled every ounce of determination and anger, building her power, burning away the drugged sleepiness. Eyes closed, she took a deep breath and let the power boil out from her.
The energies speared up through the mirrored ceiling. To her inner sight, it looked like a hand wreathed in glowing vines, reaching out with destructive purpose. She envisioned it stretching and taking hold of …
Nothing. Not a single mote of earth, fire, or otherwise to grasp. The energies flailed and sputtered. Despair resurfaced as the magic started to withdraw.
Something grabbed hold.
Dani gasped and arched upward. The violent contact made her try to yank the extended power back into herself, but it snagged and kept her spine taut. She felt like a worm dangling on a line, with an extra-dimensional fisherman inspecting her. Was this the Cleansers’ doing? Part of the ceremony they planned?
As she hung there, twitching, trying to free herself, it started to reel her in. Her body remained in place, but her mind drew closer to the monstrous presence that held her. The enormity of it threatened to overwhelm.
“Whoever you are,” she huffed through clenched teeth, “ever think about just saying hello?”
The lines of her room blurred and stretched. Dani dug fingers into her thighs, using the pain to anchor herself.
“Does it always have to come down to a magical willy-waving contest? Because that puts me at a big disadv—”