A World Darkly (Wrath of the Old Gods Book 3)

by John Triptych

  Tepiltzin cried out in frustration as the pain of his loss shuddered through his body. Everything he cherished was gone. All that was good in the world had died with his brother. There would be no resurrection when it came to sacrifices, those souls would end up in the underworld forever. He realized that he had nothing left to live for.

  “You feel that you have suffered a great loss today,” Tlazopilli said. “You must think of this only as the next step on your way to becoming the high priest that I wanted you to be. In order to be devoted to Xipe Totec, one must let go of all attachments in this life. What better way to give your most valuable possession as a gift to Xipe Totec? For only when one has nothing will one truly be appreciative of one’s god. Now you have nothing. Now you may begin again.”

  25. The Exorcists

  Camp David

  Secretary of Defense Mary Arctor drew a deep breath as she got out of the armored sport utility vehicle and stared at the front part of Laurel Lodge, one of the larger buildings in the camp. Originally designed for official meetings as well as dinners, the lodge had recently been modified to house the ailing president. The night air was chilly and everyone was wearing thick clothing. She could see a large contingent of armed soldiers along the driveway, just milling about in the shadows of the tall birch trees. Ominous thunderclaps could be heard in the distance, but so far there was no sign of rain.

  Sheila Giraud got out of the other side of the car and walked over until she stood beside her superior. The foot-tall step lights situated along the edges of the driveways obscured everyone’s upper bodies and faces. “What are all these men doing out here?”

  Mary shook her head slightly. “I was about to ask the same thing.”

  FBI Special Agent Lawrence Johnson had already gotten out of the front seat of the car and stood in front of them as he pulled out his walkie-talkie. “I’m here outside of the lodge with the secretary of defense, what’s going on?”

  In less than a minute, Ethan Quinn ran over to them. He was wearing a heavy wool sweater underneath his leather jacket. He held out his hand to Mary. “Secretary Arctor, thanks for coming on such short notice.”

  Mary shook his hand. “What’s going on, why are all these men out here?”

  Ethan shrugged sheepishly. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t have enough time to organize things. When one of our subjects suddenly appeared, she demanded we clear out all the furniture in the building as quickly as possible. I had the Marines and Secret Service contingents here help us out. If you could please follow me.”

  As they started walking up the driveway, Mary noticed that a number of heavy furniture pieces had been left on near the side of the walkways. Long mahogany tables, chairs, cabinets, even a pile of flags that had once adorned the presidential office had been placed outside.

  Ethan pointed at a sofa as they got near the side entrance of the lodge. “That was the president’s favorite, and if he pulls through from this, I’m sure he’ll want it back.”

  Mary placed a restraining hand on his elbow as she stopped in mid stride. “Hold up, you need to tell me everything as of right now.”

  Ethan turned and faced them. “Sorry, I thought you wanted to get inside first since it’s a cold night. Anyway, here it is: one of the people that I reported who would be appearing here just showed up out of nowhere. She brought along that old Indian I was telling you about. Anyway, Secret Service were all over them as soon as they showed up and I had to do a lot of improvising to get them to stand down. When the situation calmed down, the subject told me that she needed to see the president and we needed to put him in a room where she could take a look at him.”

  Mary instinctively buttoned up her coat as the chilled air wafted around them. “Wait, who is this subject you’re talking about?”

  “Tara Weiss,” Ethan said. “She brought along that old shaman, and he goes by the name of El Brujo. I suggested that they might want to use the chapel for what they were going to do, but they insisted on a large room with nothing in it other than the president on his bed.” He pointed to the lodge. “The meeting room in this building was adequate, but they told me to get rid of everything else in it, so that’s how I got the men together. As you can see, they just finished moving everything out.”

  Mary looked around. She had a feeling what was going to come next. “Who’s in command of the military?”

  Ethan pointed to the door. “Captain Davis. He’s right inside.”

  Mary walked up the side door and opened it. More than a dozen people were crowded in the kitchen as they tried to peer into the next room. There were camp staff, soldiers and Secret Service agents. One of the soldiers had rank bars on his shoulder pads and noticed the four of them come in. He quickly moved over to them.

  Captain Davis made a salute. “Madame Secretary.”

  Mary acknowledged him with a curt bow. “I need you to get your men back to barracks, but keep them on standby. I also want you to clear this room. Only essential staff stays.”

  As the people started filling out through the side door, Sheila finally figured it out. “They’re doing an exorcism, aren’t they?”

  The main lounge of the Laurel Lodge had been cleared of furniture, the only exception was the large bed in the center of the room. The president was lying on his back and his arms and legs were in plastic restraints that were tied down to the base of the bed. He was dressed in blue pajamas and it looked like he was sleeping soundly. The curtains covered over all the sliding glass doors and windows. All the lights were glaring brightly over the spartan floors and bare walls, which helped to intensify their illumination. A slow, rhythmic chanting came from El Brujo, as he sat crossed-legged on the floor while facing the president’s bed. The old shaman continued to sing his mantra, as he used his fingers to pour fine colored grains of minerals over the elaborate sand painting that he was making at the foot of the bed.

  Tara Weiss had been sitting beside the old shaman for several hours now. She remembered the tense faces of the Secret Service agents as they all pointed their guns at her, just as she casually walked up to where they had been keeping the president. They had pushed her down on the ground and were in the process of restraining her until Ethan came running over and intervened on her behalf. It took several hours of intense negotiations with the security personnel and the staff of the Executive Office until they finally relented to her demands. In the end, it was the First Lady who gave her permission to do what she wanted. The president’s wife had read the confidential reports on her and realized she had come to help.

  With her eyes closed, Tara could sense the invisible energies that were swirling around the room. El Brujo’s chanting had summoned many of the benevolent spirits in the area. The Algonquin Indians called these spirits the Manitou. The old shaman was making sure that only the good spirits would be present, since the president himself radiated a sort of black energy that was the antithesis of their ritual. The coming battle would not be physical, but of a spiritual nature. During the time that she had been instructed to the ways of the other worlds, Tara could remember the teachings of her mentor. She had a distinct feeling all her lessons would now be put to the test.

  As she alternately shifted from an awakened to a spiritual state, Tara heard a loud screech. She sensed that the demon inside the president’s body was now preparing to fight as El Brujo’s chants had broken through its outer defenses. When she opened her eyes, she saw that the bed had moved a few inches by itself as the frame was being dragged along the floor by some supernatural force.

  El Brujo sensed the ebbing waves of defensive energy from the demon as his chants became louder. He had now finished the sand painting in front of him and he stared into it in order to try to discern the identity of the demon that they were fighting with. The brownish grains of sand in the painting began to change color into a bright red. Within a few seconds, a few fine grains had begun to float up into the air as if pulled up by an unknown, invisible hand. El Brujo narrowed his eyes as he stared dire
ctly into the painting on the floor, imbuing it with his own form of spiritual protection.

  The wind outside began to pick up in intensity and the surrounding trees in the camp had begun to sway as the immediate air had swirled to gale force intensity. The noise from the howling winds had increased to the point where one had to shout just to be heard. The president let out a shrill scream as the bed he was lying in suddenly started to levitate in the air.

  Tara’s eyelids had begun to feel heavy and it was a struggle to keep her eyes open. It was as if something was trying to force them to close. She could sense a malevolent energy field coming from the floating bed in front of her. Just as she was about to break her concentration, she sensed the warm, allied spirit of El Brujo beside her. Tara quickly refocused her mind as her spiritual energy joined with that of her mentor’s own essence, and they started to tear through the demon’s hold.

  The president arched his back as he tried to break free from his restraints. His eyes had gone completely white and he was shouting out unintelligible things that only creatures of the netherworld would understand.

  As she kept up her focus on the energy surge, Tara could feel that they were close now. She had sensed it was her contribution was loosening the demon’s hold over the president. Just a little bit more effort and all would be well—

  “Why’d you leave me, Tara?”

  Tara opened her mouth in shock as she turned. Standing on the far side of the room was Timmy, her little brother. He was wearing his favorite Buster Rocket t-shirt and the loose jeans she bought for him at the discount store with her own savings. She had helped out her friend Crissy on her newspaper route and Tara delivered some papers by hand, even though she didn’t have a bicycle. She remembered going to the discount store with her brother, as she helped Timmy try on all the used pants for a boy his age. They finally settled on a pair of slightly torn jeans, even though it was somewhat too big for his waistline. Tara figured he would grow into it eventually. Then again, it was the only pair of pants that came close to fitting him.

  Timmy held out his hand. “Why’d you leave? We could still be together!”

  Tara’s mouth trembled as tears started to form over her eyes. “Timmy, please forgive me!”

  Timmy opened his mouth. It was full of blood and started to drip down his chin. “Why?”

  Tara’s body began to shake uncontrollably. Her little brother was right. She killed him. It was all her fault. It was her selfishness that sealed his fate. If she only had more courage to endure the abuse from her dad, then everything would have been alright. Her hands covered her face as she started to cry. She was nothing. She didn’t deserve to live while so many others had died.

  Just as she was about to let go, something inside of her began to stir. Tara immediately sensed something wasn’t right. She was not looking at her brother at all. As her essence reached out into the room, she surmised the little boy she was looking at wasn’t real, he was a test. It really wasn’t Timmy. No, it was the demon. As she started to draw her shattered reality back together, she glanced back at the spot where her brother had been standing.

  Timmy was no longer there.

  That was it. The demon was tempting her. It had tried to break her will by delving into her subconscious, and to draw out the guilt that lay buried deep within the recesses of her mind. She had somehow become aware of it and was now able to refocuses her concentration. As her thoughts returned to clarity once more, Tara could sense that El Brujo was silently congratulating her. She had passed the test.

  The president began to make a choking noise as his head and neck was almost vertical. The restraints were holding his limbs fast but it looked like his neck was contorted and stretched. Then a strange grey mist began to pour out of his gaping mouth. Within a few minutes, a man-sized dark cloud hovered over the bed as it crashed back down onto the floor of the room.

  The mist began to coalesce until a human-like outline could vaguely be seen inside of it. The voice that it uttered had a strange, harmonious quality combined with a brutal sounding baritone. “Who dares to disturb me from my task?”

  Tara knew what it was now. In the demon’s desperate attempts to sway her, she had learned of its true name. “You are Ronove, Earl of Hell. Your task has ended. Begone, and return to the infernal realm that you were summoned from.”

  The demon hissed at her. “You think you can banish me just like that? You are but a weak little girl. I can crush you with my great hands like a matchstick!”

  Tara’s look was serene as she knew it was powerless now. “You have done all you could and failed. Stop wasting everyone’s time and go!”

  The demon made a loud bellow. “We shall meet again, Tara Weiss! The next time I shall have your soul!”

  Suddenly, there was a blinding white light that engulfed the entire room, followed quickly by a loud, deafening bang. It was as if a bolt of lightning had manifested itself indoors and detonated.

  When Tara opened her eyes, she was lying on the floor as medical teams and Secret Service agents started to rush inside the room. Paramedics surrounded the bed as they tried to find out the condition of the head of state. El Brujo had been standing over her and started to help her up. As she looked around, she noticed Ethan and two well-dressed women approaching her.

  The president was sitting upright on the bed. “I’m alright, goddamn it! Just get these restraints off of me.”

  El Brujo clasped Tara’s elbow and he smiled at her. “You have done well, my child. You are now a true being of power and you are no longer my pupil. In fact, you are now more powerful than I could have ever hoped to be.”

  Tara smiled back. Deep inside her heart, she knew she had some help, and she had a very good idea who it was.

  26. Intrusion of the Profane

  Otherworld

  Tyrone Gatlin opened his eyes to a light blue sky. He could see twinkling shafts of light across the heavens, streaking by like falling stars. He blinked several times to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. He felt the dry clothes over his skin and it took him a few seconds to recalibrate his sense of reality. After a few minutes, he sat up and looked around. He was sitting along the slopes of a small, grassy hill. A stream with clear flowing water was running along the base of the mound. He neither felt cold nor warmth, and he wasn’t tired either. Across the horizon was a massive wooden wall hundreds of feet high, with millions of overlapping metal shields covering the top of it. Where in the hell was he?

  “Pretty impressive isn’t it? I was quite gobsmacked the first time I came here,” a voice behind him said.

  Tyrone turned his head. Standing behind him was a young boy of about twelve or thirteen. He wore jeans and had a blue hooded sweater on. The kid smiled at him. Tyrone quickly stood up and tried to wipe away the grass stains on his clothes, only to realize there weren’t any.

  The boy nodded. “Yeah, no need for that. Your clothes can’t get dirty out here.”

  Tyrone was still somewhat confused. “Who are you?”

  The boy moved forward and held out his hand. “Steve Symonds. You must be the shaman I’ve been waiting for.”

  Tyrone shook the boy’s hand. “You don’t sound American with that accent of yours. You, like Australian or somethin’?”

  “I’m from England,” Steve said. “And you are?”

  “Tyrone Gatlin. From Georgia.”

  Steve smirked. “Right. Now that our introductions are complete, we got a bit of work to do, yeah?”

  Tyrone rubbed his forehead. He was mystified at what was happening. “Wait, from what I remember I was swimming under the bayou towards a circle of light and now all of a sudden I’m here? Where are we?”

  “Right,” Steve said. “From the top then. You are in what we call Valhalla. This was once the domain of the valkyries, you know those Norse angels who take the best Vikings who died and brought them up here to get ready for the final battle. I think it was called Ragnarok.”

  “Okay, but I was sort of following the Ma
ster of Breath who I was worshipping, only he’s an American Indian god,” Tyrone said. “Isn’t this place like in Europe? What does this have to do with what I’m supposed to do?”

  The boy took out a small black mirror from underneath his hoodie. It was circular, and seemed to be made of polished obsidian. “It was because of this. It’s called the mirror of Tezcatlipoca and I took it from an old wizard that tried to kill me and my sister. I’ve somehow become attuned to it and I started to have strange dreams about it.”

  Tyrone was intrigued. “What sort of dreams? I got dreams of my own too that led me here.”

  “There was sort of a man in the mirror, he had black skin, but not like yours,” Steve said. “I mean his skin was black as the night, quite unnatural. He spoke to me and he said he needed to be released in the temple of his enemy. When I asked him how I could do that, he said I needed to wait for the man with the power. That’s where you come in, mate. He described you.”

  Tyrone was shocked. “Me? For reals? This is just so unbelievable. Now that I’m here, what are we supposed to do next?”

  Steve looked away as he held the mirror in front of him. “Well, I guess now we need to go to the temple of his enemy and get things started.”

  Tyrone put his hands up. “Wait a minute, we’re just supposed to go like right now? H-how do we get ready and all that?”

  Steve closed his eyes as he started to focus on the mirror. “That was all he told me. Let’s get started. I’m sure we can make things up as we go.”