by Sean Stone
“Thinking. About everything you did to me. Everything you made me do. At first I wallowed. Almost killed myself. But then I realised your mistake and I realised that I had a chance at revenge,” said Adam.
“My mistake?”
Adam waved the athame. “You used this to steal magic whilst you were in my body. All of the magic you stole using my body is commanded by me. All of the magic you stole before your death is commanded by you. All of it is held within this athame. It wasn’t an issue until you restored yourself and took control of all that lost magic again. Now this athame answers to both of us.” Henry had never heard of such a thing. He hated that. The fact that someone knew more than him.
“I’ll soon change that,” Henry said and flung an attack Adam. Nothing happened.
“Your magic can’t hurt me, Henry. The athame won’t allow it.” Adam smiled but there was no real glee.
“That’s impossible,” Henry said. He started to back away from Adam. Without magic he was useless. He needed to get away and rethink things.
“Don’t worry, I can’t use magic on you either. It works both ways. No, the only way we can rectify this is by burying this athame in one of our hearts. That’s what I was doing at the museum. Research. Obviously, I didn’t know you were going to return from the dead until recently so I was actually just looking for a way to destroy a spirit. But then when I returned to Elizabeth’s house to kidnap you and I found that you’d left, I had a chat with your descendant instead. Why did you tell him your plan?”
“Why not?” Henry said with a shrug. Truthfully, he had planned to kill Frederik, but after acquiring the spark of magic from Nickolas he no longer needed to. A bit of blood was enough. He should still have killed him but there was something about killing his own descendant that just didn’t appeal to him. He didn’t want to break his family line.
“I let him go by the way. He’ll be far from here by now. He was terrified that you was going to sacrifice him.”
“I was until I didn’t need to,” Henry said. “Are you going to try to stab me then, or are you going to talk me to death?”
“If you’ve had enough of the mortal realm then sure. Let’s do this.” They both ran at each other at the same time.
Westgate Cemetery was massive. A vast grey landscape of stone monuments for the dead. Nick led his disciples to the very centre of the place where there was a small courtyard. He didn’t know who would want to come and sit in a courtyard in the middle of a cemetery but it would do nicely as the location for the ritual. The sun was low in the sky and the cemetery was full of long shadow from the tombs. The stone benches in the courtyard had been claimed by tangled weeds and high-risen grass.
“This is amazing,” Lucian said. He was not referring to the scenery but to the fact that he was out in the sunlight and not burning. That had been the thing Nick had promised him and now he had the power to deliver. Nick couldn’t imagine what it felt like to be deprived of something for so many centuries and then to finally have it back again. He would feel it very soon, though.
“You’re welcome,” Nick said. “By the time the sun rises again tomorrow you all will have what was promised,” he said to the others.
“Shall we get on with it then?” Kristen asked. Nick wasn’t sure whether she was eager to see it done or just tired of waiting. It made no difference to him. He wanted to get on with it more than any of them.
“Not yet. We cannot begin until both the sun and the moon are visible in the sky. Besides, I have to send a message to Olivia.”
In the middle of the courtyard a bird feeding tray was positioned on a stone pedestal. He lifted the copper tray and tossed it unceremoniously aside. Then he conjured up a large church candle and placed it on the pedestal. With a wave of his hand the candle flickered to life. Nick beckoned for the messenger. Jamal shoved the young man they’d kidnapped on the way forwards. He stumbled towards Nick, his eyes full of terror.
“What’s your name?” Nick asked.
“Da… Darren,” he said.
“Relax, Darren. I only need a small service from you. Once it’s done you’ll be free to go and I promise you will be unharmed. Do you understand?”
Darren nodded. “Yes,” he stammered.
“Good. Hand please.” Darren offered his hand and Nick cut it open.
“You said I would be unharmed,” Darren said.
“I’ll heal you,” Nick told him. He held Darren’s hand over the candle so his blood dripped into the flame. “I am linking your life to this candle. When I extinguish the flame, you’ll die. Temporarily. When I reignite it, you will return. I need you to get a message to somebody in the afterlife for me.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to do it yourself?” Darren asked. He flinched once the words were out of his mouth as if expecting Nick to hit him.
“Unfortunately, I am immortal. If I go into the realm of the dead then death will try to keep me there. The same is true for all my disciples. I need to send a mortal. Because death knows that they will return one day and will not mind them visiting,” Nick explained. He had travelled to the realm of the dead once before and it was not a pleasant experience. “When you get there find Olivia. Tell her that I am going to open the realm of the living for her. She must come to Westgate Cemetery in Cedarstone. The barrier will only be down in Cedarstone so she cannot try to cross over anywhere else. Can you remember that?”
“Yes. Come to Westgate Cemetery. Nowhere else. Who should I tell her the message is from?”
“The Blackwood Boy.” Nick extinguished the candle and Darren fell down dead.
Nick waited fifteen minutes before relighting the candle and resurrecting Darren. He gave him a moment to get his bearings. “Did you deliver my message?” he asked.
“Yes. I found her. I told her what you said.”
“And?” Nick asked eager with anticipation.
“She said she’ll see you soon.” Nick sent Darren on his way after unlinking him from the candle. Darren insisted on having the candle all the same so Nick let him take it with him. Nick looked West and saw the sun hanging low. He looked East and saw the moon. He laid the ambrotos dagger out on the pedestal. He flicked his wrist and the dagger jumped up so it was standing on the point of its blade. Nick then lit four fires massive; one at each of the points of the compass. Then he turned to his disciples. “Let’s begin,” he said.
25
Clara called Chief Constable Higgins on their way to the cemetery. Nobody at the town hall or the police station knew that SIT has been massacred yet which meant she still had the authority to give them orders. Higgins tried to argue but she threatened a visit from Sidney and he soon shut up and complied. By the time she was there police officers had cordoned off the cemetery and cleared the area. She had given specific instructions that nobody enter the cemetery. Luckily it was a big cemetery; Cedarstone’s largest, which meant that Nick and his disciples would not see what was going on outside. Unless they were near the entrance. Clara marched up to the gate with her companions at her sides. Nobody tried to stop her as she strolled into the cemetery. She stopped and turned back to the officers at the gate.
“Things might get a bit… unusual. If they do you have authorisation to leave,” she said. The officers nodded their recognition. She did not want to be responsible for their deaths. If anything happened it would be because they chose to stay.
“How long do you think it will be until they figure out SIT is gone?” Kegan asked once they were safely out of ear shot.
“Hopefully never. When Sidney recovers, we’ll be able to rebuild,” Clara said. But she knew that wasn’t going to happen. Regardless of whether Sidney survived, SIT was finished.
They continued in silence, moving quietly so nobody would hear their approach. As they neared the centre Clara heard chanting. Nick chanting. The ritual had already started. She put her finger to her lips and then motioned for the other two to follow her forwards. She peeked around the tomb ahead and saw the Thirteen in the co
urtyard. Nick was standing in the middle and the disciples were around him in a circle. They were four fires positioned evenly between the disciples and hovering above a pedestal in front of Nick was the ambrotos dagger. Clara had seen it before last time she’d tried to interrupt one of Nick’s rituals. That hadn’t gone very well for her. She hoped this time would go better.
“Alright, Dean, James is over there on the right. If you make for him, I’ll head up the middle and Kegan you go left and pick a disciple to kill on that side,” she said.
“Any in particular?” Kegan said in an attempt at humour. It fell flat but Clara gave him a comforting smile.
“You’ll be fine. We all will. This is the day when Nick dies and all this bullshit ends,” she said. She couldn’t believe that before learning the truth about the supernatural she’d thought she lived in a quiet town. The council had done a good job hiding it all.
Dean left first and Kegan after him. Once they were gone Clara got as close as she could without being seen and then concentrated on the far side of the courtyard. A projection of herself appeared and she flicked her consciousness into it. She stepped forwards towards the courtyard. She’d taken only three steps when the first of the disciples saw her. Alanis pointed straight at her. Then the others turned to see her. Nick turned last and it was only then when his eyes met hers that she stopped moving. She took a deep breath and continued walking.
“Clara Winters. How disappointing it is to see you still breathing. I should have expected a visit from you, what would a ritual be without Clara Winters crashing the party?” he said conversationally.
She stepped into the ritual circle and stopped. “Those were my thoughts on the matter too,” she replied. She flicked her consciousness back into her real body and then stepped out from her hiding place. She moved slowly because she still needed to keep some concentration on the projection so she could talk. Also she couldn’t risk being seen before she had the dagger. Nick had his back directly to the pedestal. If she was fast enough she could grab the dagger and stab him before he even turned around. The other disciples were all distracted by her projection and they’d moved to flank their leader.
“Do you have another box to try and trap me in or do you have something else planned this time?” he asked.
“No traps this time. This time I’m going to kill you,” she replied. The words came from her projection easily.
Nick laughed. “Is it that so?”
“Clara, don’t,” Jamal said. He stepped forward.
“Stay out of this, Jamal,” she said without looking at him. She couldn’t turn to him without shifting her focus back into the projection.
“I am trying to protect you,” Jamal said passionately.
“You should listen to him, Clara. You’re out of chances. You’ve come alone. No sorcerers, no werewolves and no vampires. They’ve all learned their lessons. Learned not to cross me. But you, you do not learn. I have never known anybody who was so keen to die,” Nick said. “Well, except old Caspar. But you’re a close second.”
“Nick, please,” Jamal said.
“The only person dying tonight is you,” Clara replied. She was mere steps away from the pedestal now. Not a single disciple had noticed her. They all had their backs to the real her and were focusing on the clone.
“I used to find your obsession with killing me amusing. Now it’s just annoying. You tricked me into a sarcophagus once before and that’s given you a false sense of grandeur. A delusion that you can actually kill me. You can’t. No matter what tricks you employ.” The last sentence flew out of his mouth angrily and before he’d even finished speaking he wheeled around and grabbed the real Clara by the throat. As he lifted her up off the ground the projection vanished. The whites of his eyes turned red like magma, the iris black as night. His veins all stood out from his skin, turned black and pulsed with his fury. The whole situation had hideous feeling of de ja vu. Then she realised what it was. Several of her dreams had been here in this cemetery. This was the place she died.
Dean crept around the graves until he could get a clear path to his father. He waited for Clara’s projection to capture their attention and then he moved. He sneaked across the overgrown grass moving as deftly and quietly as he could.
“Dad,” he hissed. He had to say it two more times before James finally turned. His eyes widened in horror and he half walked, half ran over to him.
“Dean, what are you doing here? I told you stay at home until this was done,” James said angrily. His face was wrought with worry.
“Don’t play the angry dad card, I’m here to help you,” James said.
“I don’t need help, Dean.”
“Yeah you do. I’ve looked in to this ritual and it’s not as simple as you think,” Dean said quickly. He hated being so exposed. At any moment one of the others could turn around and see what was going on. He doubted that James would be able to protect him from the other murderous warlocks present. He was the newest recruit, after all.
“What do you mean?” James asked. His face showed some concern at last.
“In order to complete the ritual, Nick needs twelve sacrifices. He’s going to kill all of you,” Dean said. James smiled and then chuckled quietly. Dean couldn’t believe that he was reacting this way. “It’s not a joke, Dad, I’m serious!” he said a little to loudly.
“I know you’re serious. I know,” James said, speaking in a calming tone. “The ritual needs twelve willing sacrifices. Willing. We all knew this from the moment Nick told us what he was up to.”
“What?” Dean said. He shook his head. He must have misheard or else James had lost his mind. They all had if they were willing to die for Nick.
“Do you know what this ritual is for?” James asked.
“Raising the dead,” Dean said. That’s what Clara had said.
“Pretty much, yeah. So, Nick will kill us but then he’ll raise the dead and we’ll all rise again. It’s a temporary death.”
“How can you be so calm? How can you be sure he’ll actually do it?” Dean demanded. Both James and Dean were distracted when Nick suddenly darted around the pedestal and grabbed the real Clara by the throat. Dean had hunted a lot of supernatural creatures but he’d never encountered anything as terrible as the thing that was Nickolas Blackwood in that moment. He looked less human than a vampire.
“Dean, I trust Nick and I need you to trust me. Whatever it is you’re attempting here I can’t let it go ahead. I’m not putting you in danger.”
“Da, I—” Dean was cut off when James grabbed his shoulders and teleported him away. They landed in the living room of their family home and Dean had to battle back the urge to wretch all over the floor again. “Dad, you can’t do this!” he screamed.
“I have to.” James waved his hands and Dean felt something change on the atmosphere of the room. “I told you to stay in this room and now I’m not giving you a choice. I’ve sealed it so you can’t leave,” he said in a dad voice. He was grounding him.
“Dad, do not do this. You are—” James disappeared and left Dean shouting at an empty room.
Kegan waited in the shadows of the darkening cemetery and watched first Clara fail and then James. That left only him. Everyone was still distracted by Nick and Clara. He downed the entire phial of invisibility potion, wrapped both hands around the axe and stepped forwards. There was one disciple standing behind the main group observing silently. The others all seemed invested in what was going on whereas he seemed bored. Kegan did a quick jog forwards, raised the axe and before he could hesitate he brought it down as hard as he could on the disciple’s neck. The blade found flesh and shattered on impact. The disciple turned to look at Kegan who was standing, jaw-open, eyes wide, holding a shattered axe. He was still invisible. If he stayed still and silent the disciple wouldn’t know he was there. If only Kegan had studied the disciples files a little harder he might have known who he was facing.
The disciple looked at him curiously and there was no doubt in
Kegan’s mind that he could see him despite the potion. “Who are you?” he asked. His tone was flat and expressionless.
“You can see me?” Kegan said.
“Quite. Your potion isn’t strong enough to fool my eyes. Who are you?”
“I… Kegan Wilson. I’m with SIT,” he said. Best to comply now that he was caught. A couple of the others had turned to see what was going on but then quickly turned back to Clara. She was of more interest.
“Hello, Kegan Wilson. My name is Caspar. I don’t have a surname. Might I ask what you are up to?” He was so polite considering that Kegan had just reed to kill him.
“I need to stop the ritual. If one of you are dead then Nick can’t do the ritual,” Kegan said.
“Very clever,” Casper said. “Unfortunately for both of us you picked the only warlock in this cemetery who cannot be killed by anything. Although, I am rather hoping that this ritual can achieve it.”
“You… you want to die?” Kegan asked. Who would want to die?
“I do. I wish I could discuss this with you further but I don’t have the time. You were unlucky to pick me because I cannot die but at the same time you are lucky because I am not cruel like some of the others can be. You’re just doing what you think is right and for that I will not kill you.” Caspar placed his hand on Kegan’s forehead. “Sleep now. And wake when all this over.”
Kegan slipped out of reality almost immediately. The last thing he heard before he fell was the most horrifying scream that could only have come from someone being killed. He really hoped it was Nick.
Clara gasped for air as Nick hoisted her up off the ground. His hideous face was twisted with anger.
“I have come to the end of my tether with you, Clara,” he roared. “I have given you numerous chances. I have let you live every time you’ve attacked me. My mercy has now expired.” He threw her onto the ground. Her tailbone hit concrete and cracked. She groaned in pain.