by Ryan Attard
A single portal opened and swallowed the Lich, leaving us alone in the half-destroyed museum.
Chapter 23
I stared at the spot where the mummified Lich had disappeared with disbelief.
It had been right there: the book, the opportunity to end it all. I had had it in the palm of my hand — literally — and it should have been over.
The voices in my head, backlash from using my powers, told me to rage and rampage, but I had to remain in control. I willed them back, dissipating much of the darkness around me.
Greg stirred behind me. “We should be-”
I whirled and swung my leg. In one motion he went down and I had my gun pointed at his nose. I wanted nothing more than to pull the trigger, to pay him back for his betrayal. If it weren’t for him, this would have been over, and the whole city wouldn’t be in danger from an immortal Egyptian spirit.
“Why?” I growled. “Give me a reason why I shouldn’t blast your head off?”
“You misunderstand.”
“You sucker-punched me from behind while I was in the process of destroying an evil artifact,” I retorted. “Not much to misunderstand about that.”
Greg narrowed his icy blue eyes. “You were going to destroy the Necronomicon. I could not allow that.”
“‘Cause you want it, right?” The gun started quivering in my hands. “The thing that can kill people just by touch. It brought a fucking Lich back to life. And you wanna keep that thing around?”
“It is not that simple!” Greg was now on his feet, my gun pressed against his chin. “If we destroy the Necronomicon, there is no telling what will be unleashed. It’s a prison, Erik, and we have no idea what’s inside of it.”
The doors burst open and men with guns rushed in.
“Stand down, stand down!”
I turned my weapon onto them. “I don’t have time for this shit.”
Greg raised his hands. “Do not fight back,” he said.
“Oh, now you’re a pacifist.”
“A firefight might kill him,” Greg said, nodding at the unconscious Necromancer behind us. “He’s our only chance to stop the Lich.”
I grimaced at the unconscious man, then at the armed men, pointing their weapons into my face. Finally, I surrendered. My gun was torn from my grip and someone pulled my hands behind me, binding them with zip locks. A black hood covered my face and I was dragged out.
The drive was short. We stopped abruptly and were dragged out of the van, before being forced to sit down. Minutes passed in silence, with the only sound being the scraping of my feet on the ground and Greg fidgeting next to me.
The door swung open loudly, and footsteps echoed, stopping in front of me. The hood was yanked from my face, and I saw my sister pursing her lips in disgust, while Mephisto yanked the hood from Greg’s face.
“That was you?” I half-yelled.
Gil was not amused. “Don’t you take that tone with me, brother,” she snapped. “You’re lucky we got to you first, before the police did.”
“Yeah, but did you really need to go all Gestapo on us?”
“The hood was to protect your identity,” she said. “And you deserved all you got. Letting that Lich get away like that.”
“He did that,” I reported, cocking my head towards Greg. “I had the book in my hands and he stopped me.”
Gil raised her eyebrows. “You held the Necronomicon?” She shook her head. “Of course. Your healing powers must have instantly countered the Necromantic curse.”
Mephisto snapped his fingers and I felt a sharp burst of air slice through my bonds.
“Come on,” Gil said. “I want to know everything.”
She led us to a more comfortable conference room, and sat us down around a table.
“Where are we, Gil?” I asked.
“In one of my safe houses,” she replied. “I have a few dozen of them scattered around the city for such emergencies. Now, tell me about the Lich.”
I shrugged. “What’s there to tell? That book was haunted or something. That ghost came out, kicked the Necromancer’s ass — where is he, by the way?”
“He’s confined in a room,” Gil said. “We’ve administered basic first aid on him.”
I nodded. “Good. Guy had his ass handed to him by the Lich. It even absorbed some of his life force.”
Gil turned to Greg. “Can Lichs do that?”
He shrugged. “Lichs are very rare. Not a natural occurrence. The original owner of the Necronomicon must have been extraordinarily powerful to control such an artifact — even more so to still reside within it after all these years.”
“And it’s now walking among us again,” I said. “The damn thing is inside a mummy or something. A mummy that Greede brought in.”
Gil slammed her fist on the table. That, more than anything, freaked me out. My sister is the very definition of ice queen. She did not lose her cool, ever.
“I should have stopped that shipment,” she said. “I should have done something sooner.” Her eyes met Greg. “Do you know what it wants?”
“The Lich was the Necronomicon’s first owner,” Greg explained, “but that relationship is not so easily defined. The book itself has a will of its own, an impression from all the horrors contained within it. I believe the Lich is merely doing the book’s will.”
“It’s going to release all of its contents,” I said, putting it together. “The Lich is just a puppet, a meat suit to cast the spell.” I smiled at Greg. “So that’s what Greede meant when he told us that our actions won’t matter. We found our third party, and it’s not the Necromancer. It’s the damn book itself.”
Gil peered closer. “You spoke to Alan Greede?” she asked. “After I specifically asked you not to?”
Oh.
Crap.
Gil caught the guilty look on my face and snarled. “Dammit, Erik.”
“I had to, Gil.”
“No. No, you didn’t have to,” she said. “You could have heeded my warning and stayed away. You could have let me deal with him.”
“He’s dangerous,” I said. “He’s got powers, lots of ‘em.”
“And you think me so inept at my job that I was unaware of that fact?” she snapped. “I know Greede is powerful, which is why I avoided a direct confrontation until I was sure of what type of magic he uses, its limitations, and if there is an external source he’s drawing it from.”
“Oh.” That was all I could manage. The rest of my brain was too occupied with telling me I was stupid.
Gil sighed.
“We’ll deal with this later, brother,” she said, in a tone that reminded me a lot of a school teacher berating a student. I immediately shrank into my seat.
“Right now, we have a Lich to stop,” she continued. “This is our priority right now, before Greede. Greg, you’re our resident Kresnik. Do you have a strategy?”
He shook his head. “Unfortunately, this is beyond even my power now. I was only assigned to retrieve the book. Now that the Lich is awake, I’m afraid it’s too late.”
“The hell it is,” I stood up. “So what if it’s too late? Do we just roll over now because some clock hit the countdown? Hell, no. We fight.”
“I fully agree with the sentiment,” he said, “but one cannot fight an enemy that is unseen. And whatever is inside the Necronomicon is beyond all of us here.”
I inhaled deeply, exhaling in a long stream.
“There’s the ghost of a murder house with my apprentice, a whole bunch of police officers in the hospital because some Wild West Goat Boy shot up the station, a crime scene that would give PETA a heart attack, and god-knows-how-many kids died yesterday during the zombie attack. And do you know what all of those have in common? They are all tied up with this case. I don’t know how or why yet, but I sure as shit am not gonna find any answers by giving up.”
I loomed over him. “And most importantly, our enemy is a mummy with a book. A fucking mummy! I am not losing to a mummy. In fact, I think it’s hig
h time we go all Rick O’Connell on its ass.”
Greg cocked his head. “I do not understand. Who is this Rick you speak of?”
“Brendan Fraser from the movie The Mummy,” I said. “Come on, you’ve seen The Mummy.”
“Never heard of it.”
“The fuck do you guys do in Russia?”
“Drink vodka and not watch movies with stupid names.”
“How dare you? The Mummy is a classic!”
“Boys!” Gil snapped. “Please focus on the issue at hand. Erik, do you have a strategy to go along with your speech?”
I grinned at her. “Point me to the Necromancer.”
I’ve seen beaten men before, people who took a hit so hard it rattled everything inside of them. All their bravado, their arrogance, all the tough guy acts they put up — all of that suddenly gone.
The Necromancer was huddled in a corner, sobbing. He looked up when he heard the door snap open, his hair in greasy clumps in front of his face, revealing only a single bloodshot eye.
“What do you want?” he mumbled, looking at me.
“Your blood.”
The Necromancer snapped his head up, fear etched into his face. “What?”
I grinned. “You heard me.”
He crawled further towards the wall. “Why?”
“You’re gonna help us find the Lich,” I said. “And the only way I know to do that is with a tracking spell. Now, I’m thinking your average tracker ain’t gonna work on this guy, so we gotta step up our game.”
“A blood trace,” he said.
“Bingo.” I approached him and placed an empty syringe at his feet. “And since someone in this room was dumb enough to have their life force sucked out by the Lich, I’m thinking that same someone can act as a catalyst.” I pointed at the syringe. “Your choice, dude. Draw your own blood or I’ll draw it for you.”
I pulled out Djinn, reinforcing my threat.
Dejected, the Necromancer picked up the syringe and pulled off the plastic sheath off the needle.
“You don’t have to threaten me,” he said, sticking it in his arm. Gil went over by his side, helping him draw blood.
He looked at her. “I’ll cast the tracking spell myself if I have to. That bastard stole my life force.”
“And your powers along with it,” I added.
“Not all my powers,” he said. “I can still stop him, weaken him enough to turn him back into a spirit.”
Gil pulled out the syringe and examined the blood inside.
“That would be most helpful,” she said. “But don’t harbor any illusions. You’re my prisoner now, and you will pay for your crimes.”
“Don’t care,” he said. “I just want what’s mine.”
“In that case, welcome to the team,” I said.
“Erik!” Gil said.
“What?” I retorted. “You said it yourself, he would be useful, and shit-heads like him can’t stand losing, can you, Shithead?”
“Fuck off,” the Necromancer replied.
“See?” I told Gil. “And besides, if he steps outta line, he’ll have to deal with me. And we all know how that story ends.”
Gil looked at Greg, who simply shrugged.
“Enemy of my enemy,” was all he said.
Gil sighed. “Fine. I’ll get the spell ready with this,” she said, holding up the syringe. She glared at the Necromancer. “You want to help us? Start by telling us everything you know about the Lich.”
“Okay,” he replied with a defeated nod.
“Meanwhile,” Gil continued, “Erik, Greg, I need you to go to Warehouse Four.”
Greg nodded. “Are you sure?”
Gil’s eyes were steel. “Yes. It’s time.”
“Anyone wanna let me in on this?” I asked. “What’s Warehouse Four?”
“It’s where I keep certain… unsafe objects,” Gil replied.
“You mean more unsafe than, say, a basement full of monsters, or the demon you tote around as your butler, or pretty much anything that goes through your books?” I asked.
“Yes.” She bit her lip nervously, before looking at Greg.
I looked from one to the other.
“Okay, I gotta ask this,” I blurted out. “What’s going on between the two of you?”
“Nothing is going on, brother,” Gil said, walking past us. “Just go to Warehouse Four. Greg knows what to look for.”
She hurried past us.
“Yeah, that’s not suspicious at all,” I said, as me and Greg walked out of the cell and shut the door after us.
One of Gil’s ninja wizards — which were identical to the guys who grabbed us at the museum — placed a seal on the lock.
Greg and I walked outside of the safe house in complete silence.
And when I say complete silence, I mean awkward silence.
Very fucking awkward.
Stellar levels of awkward.
“Greg?” I finally said.
“Yes, Erik?”
“Are you sleeping with my sister?”
I don’t know why I asked that — I really don’t.
Greg did a double take, which increased my suspicion, and shook his head.
“I just arrived in America two days ago, Erik. When would I have time to sleep with your sister?”
“You say you showed up two days ago, but you and her are clearly in cahoots,” I said.
“We corresponded through our organizations,” he replied. “This is why we are so well-connected.”
“Uh huh.” I nodded and we walked some more towards my car, which Gil’s men had been nice enough to hijack along towards the mansion.
“How far is Warehouse Four?” I asked.
“About forty minutes,” he answered.
“Cool,” I said. “I gotta stop by the office first.”
Greg nodded and we both got into the car, driving in silence.
Then, Greg looked at me.
“Hypothetically speaking,” he began. “If I were interested in your sister…”
I slammed the brakes so hard the car skidded three feet forwards before coming to a grinding halt.
“You what?”
Greg raised his hands. “Just asking hypothetically,” he said in a placating tone. “Your sister is a very remarkable woman. Strong and beautiful. Any man would be lucky to have her.”
I snorted, half-expecting flames to shoot out of my nostrils. “You did not sleep with my sister,” I said.
“I did not sleep with your sister,” he confirmed.
“Good.”
The car started moving again.
“But hypothetically…” Greg continued.
“Greg, I can’t speak for my sister,” I said. “As you said, she’s a remarkable woman. She can do whatever she wants.”
Greg nodded and smiled.
“But,” I continued, “that still doesn’t stop me from hunting you down and cutting your dick off.”
His smile disappeared. “Got it.”
“No, seriously. Your dick, cut off. Flopping on the ground, before it shrivels up. Picture that, Greg. Associate that image with my sister the next time you think about bumpin’ uglies with her.”
“Message received, Erik.”
I would not meet his eyes and decided to turn on the radio, discouraging further conversation about this topic. Pink’s U + Ur Hand started playing and I turned it up, much to Greg’s horror.
I grinned.
Thank you, universe.
Chapter 24
“Wait here.”
I parked just outside my office, before snatching the keys from the ignition and getting out of the car.
“Do you need any help?” Greg asked from inside the car.
“To carry some stuff? No, Greg, I’m good,” I replied, rolling my eyes. “Just sit tight for a second.”
The office was barren. I knew Abi was out with Arnold, chasing a lead. I found a note on my desk with the address she was investigating and took out my phone, texting her two words:
/>
It’s on.
Amaymon waded out of the kitchen. “Where’s your new boyfriend?”
“In the car,” I said, picking up a gym bag and examining its contents.
Ammo, holy water, charms and trinkets, wooden stakes, boxes with specific spell ingredients in them — it was all there, ready to go.
“Is it that time yet?” Amaymon asked, hopping on the desk.
I nodded and approached the feline. “You sure about this?”
He cocked his head.
“About getting double-played? Yeah, I’m sure.” His yellow eyes glowed. “Don’t forget who I am, Erik. Now put your hand on the pendant, and hold on to your panties.”
I gingerly touched the ruby around the cat’s collar and the spell took effect.
Warehouse Four was lonely, set apart even inside the giant span of land that was disturbingly devoid of any life — no life, no cars, not so much as a single skittering roach.
“Charming,” I muttered as I got out of the car.
Greg offered me a grin. “Yes, it is quite isolated.”
He extracted a large, ancient-looking key from one of his many pockets, and stuck it inside the enormous paddock bolting the door shut.
The paddock came undone and Greg pushed the door aside.
We walked inside.
“What the heck?” I spread my arms — the warehouse was naked, just empty concrete and shadows. I frowned at Greg. “Wasn’t there supposed to be some sorta super weapon in here?”
Greg remained silent.
“Cat got your tongue?” I grinned at him and sighed. “Greg, is there anything you wanna tell me?”
Greg looked from side to side, as if expecting something to go down.
“I believe it’s time for me to come clean,” he said. His eyes seemed to glow inside the darkness of the warehouse. “About this case and about my intentions.”
“Lemme guess,” I said, “you’re not gonna take me to prom?”
“Please be serious, Erik,” the Kresnik said. “This is serious business.”
I snorted. “You mean as serious as us chasing down a false lead? Or as serious as you leading me into a trap?”