by M. K. Gibson
“Release me, and I’ll let her live,” Gerhardt bartered.
Vali looked at the mage, smirked, then released his arrow. The magical missile flew through the air and pierced the arms that held Yeela just below the elbows. The arrow’s fire flared with a white-hot intensity, melting the draugr’s very bone and flesh. The arms that held Yeela burned to ash. Now freed, Yeela hit the ground and scampered off on all fours while Khlabra looked down in confusion at the stumps that used to be her arms.
Satisfied, Vali turned and fired another arrow. The bolt pierced through Gerhardt’s left bicep and, as it had done to Khlabra, burned like a miniature sun. Again, Gerhardt screamed as his flesh sloughed off and bone shattered due to the extreme heat.
“Yeela, take that artifact from his arm,” Vali said. “It controls his creations. It should control your sister. I don’t know if we can bring her back, but we can try.”
“T-thank you,” Yeela said, not meeting the god’s eyes as she retrieved the glove and glowing red-crystal artifact. The demoness placed the glove on her hand and she jerked as if a bolt of electricity had shot through her. As soon as it happened, it was over. Yeela looked back at her sister. “I—I can feel her. But it’s not her.”
“I am sorry,” Vali said with genuine sympathy. “But I know someone who may be able to help. We will bring her with us.”
“What about him?” Yeela asked, inclining her chin towards Gerhardt.
“Him?” Vali asked as he knelt down next to Gerhardt. “I have a plan for him.”
“What about me?” Maz’ael asked. “Is it OK if I stand now?”
Maz stood and brushed off his clothing while looking around the garden. “Wow, you all really fucked this place up.”
“He couldn’t have done it. Not by himself,” Vali said, looking at the broken, bleeding torturer.
“What do you mean?” Yeela asked.
“The children,” Vali growled. “The assault force who raided us and abducted the children. They weren’t from here.”
Vali looked to Maz’ael. “The raid on Löngutangar, it was precise and devious. This trash could have conceived it. But the raid was on a barony. He would have needed incredible authority to sanction it. Say, from an Archbishop’s level.”
“What?” Maz’ael asked. “You want me to apologize, godling? Everything done was legal.”
Vali stood and drew his bow, aiming at the archbishop, who quickly threw up his hands. “Wait!”
“Why?” Vali asked.
Despite having a weapon pointed at him, Maz’ael did not tremble or falter. His demonic mind spun the various angles that could benefit himself.
“Everything up to this point is forgivable, even justified in the right context. There is a little-known and not advertised law that allows an aggrieved party seventy-two hours for retribution. I’d say you fall within that window.”
“If I let you live.”
“Of course.” Maz’ael smiled.
“Would you have allowed Gerhardt to put the children through the indoctrination?”
“Yes,” Maz said, blinking at such an odd question.
Vali nodded once again. “Archbishop Maz’ael, I will not kill you tonight.”
“Good.” Maz’ael breathed out.
“Your death would not serve as the proper message.”
“What message?”
Vali smiled. “Yeela?”
“Yes?”
“Go back through the tunnel. Get the chains and hooks.”
“Which ones?” The demoness smiled as she asked, already knowing the answer.
“The small ones,” Vali replied, his teeth bared. “All forty-four of them.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Old Grudges and Older Scores
Now, in First Heaven
I grabbed a gun from the ground and aimed it at Lucian Riggs. He approached me with his hands out wide. Mere moments ago I was in a blind murderous rage. I was going to kill this man and all his friends for attempting to hurt me and TJ.
I wanted to kill them.
A tiny spark of humanity flared for the briefest of seconds. Was that all I was, a killer? All my best efforts led to pain. To the suffering of others. My breathing came harder. My finger tightened on the trigger.
“Put the gun down,” Riggs said softly as he kept walking towards me, dropping his weapon. “I’m here to help.”
“You want to help?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Are you going to waste time asking questions? That boy’s damn near dead, and if you want to save him, time is kind of working against us,” Riggs said, putting his gun away. “Now, I need you to ask for my help. And please, be specific.”
“What?” I asked. To say I was confused would be an understatement.
“Ask for my damn help. For everything you came here for.”
“I don’t understand. You just shot one of your own people.”
“Goddamn it, listen! Things have changed. Now, ask for my fucking help!”
“Fine, asshole!” I yelled. “Please help me bring TJ back and then get the Tears of God!”
Riggs closed his eyes and smiled. He rolled his head and stretched his neck, as if a great weight was removed. “Ahh, better. See, was that so hard? Now move, kid.”
Riggs pushed me aside and stood over TJ. Having no freaking clue what he was doing, I put the weapon to the back of his head.
“What are you doing? And why did you kill your own people?”
“Either pull the trigger or don’t, kid,” Riggs said, sounding almost bored with the idea of a gun pointed at him. Riggs scooped TJ up in his arms and carried him over to one of the steel tables that was still standing. “But if you want my help in bringing him back, then do what I say.”
“How are you going to bring him back?”
“Less talking, more listening. Grab that kit over there and bring it to me.”
“I don’t—”
“Move it, kid!”
I paused for a moment, trying to reign in every emotion I’ve ever felt at once. “Damn it,” I swore and did as Riggs asked. Opening the glass cabinet, I grabbed the kit he pointed at. Turning, I saw Riggs standing over TJ.
His hands and eyes were glowing white and green.
“What the shit?”
Riggs didn’t answer as he weaved his hands in an intricate pattern. A nimbus began to glow around TJ’s body. The energy seemed to pulse, like a heartbeat. The last time I saw something like that was when Ricky brought Grimm back after he was shot by Dantalion in the tower of Abraxas.
“You’re like Ricky.”
“No. I’m nothing like him,” he said while his hands continued a magical weave. “and the fact that you know him is giving me second thoughts about helping you.”
“Then why are you helping me?” I asked, feeling a little in the dark. Whatever this guy was doing and talking about, it appeared I was once again the last to know.
“I was tasked by some rather influential folks to kill you, should you make it here.”
“Who?”
“You’ll find out soon enough. Your arrival sent off a massive ethereal ripple. That’s why the Abominations, The People, Wakinyan, and I all came looking for you. Since you made it here, it was my job to finish you off. That’s why you and the kid were drugged. I figured after everything you’d been through, a nice meal and a good rest wasn’t a bad sendoff. Sorry about that, by the way. You have to realize, the chemicals we need to keep this place going all year long aren’t exactly easy to come by. Not living in the cities has its drawbacks. So, we improvise. And dissolved people work just as well as dissolved Abominations.”
“What changed?” I asked. “Why are you sparing me?” I looked at TJ’s body. “Us.”
“Well, that’s the funny part. I had a visitor in my private sanctum. He . . . kinda filled me in. Needless to say, I was surprised to find out who you were.”
Visitor? I thought. “Chael? Giant crazy guy? What did he say?
Who do you think I am?”
“Chael?” Riggs asked. “Is that what he’s calling himself? A little on the nose, don’t you think? But I guess we all have different names these days,” Riggs said as he turned his head slightly towards me. “Isn’t that right, Isaac?”
The bottom of my stomach dropped out as I stared at the back of the man’s head.
Riggs turned back to TJ with a sense of mirth to his voice. “Weren’t expecting that one, were you?”
I opened my mouth to say something . . . but nothing came out.
“Don’t sprain your brain, kid. It’s a long story. The short of it is, I know who you are now. I thought I knew you when we met, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. ‘Chael’ only confirmed it. And trust me, I’m just as shocked about it as you are. Damn, you’ve grown.”
I stood there dumbstruck, unsure of what to say or how to react.
“You see, I’m kind of compelled to help one of my own. One of my many curses. So I live all the way out here in the hope that I don’t come across any of you little bastards. Mostly because they’re always after the same thing. But since that particular curse is older and more powerful than the request to kill you, all I needed you to do was ask for my help. Neat, huh?”
“What the hell are you talking about? Do I know you?”
“Last I heard, you were going by RJ Doral. I thought you died in the wars. Glad to see you made it, kid,” Riggs said, ignoring my question. “OK, that should do it,” he said as the energy around his hands stopped glowing. TJ still radiated green-white light.
“But yeah, kid, you know me. As for how—well, I’m not quite sure you’re ready to know all of it just yet. Might make your head explode. But the last time we saw one another, you were just a kid, and I looked different. Now, get over here and do your part.”
“My part? Aren’t you fixing him and bringing him back? Like Ricky does?”
Riggs sighed and stood up straight. “Do me favor and don’t mention him again. I get that you are somehow mixed up with . . . ‘Ricky’,” Riggs said, using two-finger air quotes. “But let me tell you, kid, that oily bastard is not who, or what, you think he is. Anything he tells you is a half-truth. Anything he gives you has strings attached. In fact, that son of a bitch is really . . . ” Riggs winced, as if in pain. His mouth slammed shut and he had to look away.
“Mmm . . . damn it,” Riggs swore. “Old Accords. Hate that geas shit. But only God Almighty has the power to bring someone back from the dead and still remain human, and he’s gone. But lucky for you, the kid’s soul was strong and lingered just long enough to leave the tiniest sliver of life. And that little spark of life is what I am currently fostering and tethering his soul to. Anyway, just take my advice and get the hell away from Ricky and anyone associated with him.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?” he asked. He seemed generally concerned.
“Ricky and I go way back. And after Grimm and I set up my town, Ricky has been there the whole way. And—”
“Whoa, back up there, chief. Grimm? You mean Father Grimm? Tall, dark, and spooky? Not big on smiling or conversation? Looks like a magical cross between a dark Jedi and a gunslinger? Man, you’ve been swimming with all the major players, haven’t you?”
“Yeah, Father Grimm. He and I are . . . I dunno, partners, I guess. What’s the matter, you hate him too?”
Riggs pondered this new piece of information. “No, I don’t hate him. Not anymore. I’m not sure I ever did, really. Jealous, yeah, but never hate. But I’m not sure if it’s mutual. Out of . . . courtesy we’ve stayed out each other’s way for a long, long time.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked. Riggs regarded me with eyes that conveyed oceans of time, age and wisdom. Were they rival mages?
“It means, young Salem, that as old as you are, there are far older things in play. With old grudges and older scores to settle. And if I’m right, then Ricky has nudged you and Grimm into working together. Which means things are accelerating. Shit. The pieces are on the board and they’re in motion. Damn damn damn.”
OK, I was getting really fed up with this esoteric, one-sided circle jerk. “I’m not even going to pretend like I know what the hell is going on. But right now, Lou, I need two things from you. First, tell me what I need to do to save TJ. Second, get me the freaking Tears of God.”
“Why?” Riggs asked, unflinching, but with a slight smirk. “What do you need them for?”
Shit. I didn’t have time for this, but I could tell Riggs wasn’t going to budge.
So, I told him. I told him about Löngutangar, the children, and the plans of the Lady Bathin and Maz. I gave him a brief rundown of who I was and how I became a land baron in charge of those people at Löngutangar.
Riggs took it all in. When I was finished, he surprised me by sitting down on the mag-lift next to TJ, reaching into a side pouch on his belt and producing a small metal box. It sprang open and he popped out two smokes and an old-world Zippo lighter. He offered me a smoke while lighting up his own.
I took it and immediately realized what I was holding.
An actual old-world smoke. Original Salem menthols.
Outside of myself, I didn’t know of anyone even possessing that particular brand. Riggs lit my smoke on the ancient Zippo and snapped the lid shut. I stood there and breathed in deep, menthol serenity.
Oh god, yes. That was the tar-laced, carcinogen-laden nirvana I was looking for.
“I’m going to help you. But you have to know that taking, or possessing the Tears of God, is not something to be taken lightly. There is a very good chance you won’t make it.”
“I have to try.”
“I get that, kid. Just saying that the Tears are protected by some scary people who won’t let them go easily.”
“Will you help me?”
“I’m compelled to. Hell, maybe it’s time for me to be another player in the game. If things really are in motion, then there’s little I can do about it.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You’re not supposed to. That’s why I’m talking all cryptic like.” Riggs smiled, quirking up just a corner of his mouth in an infuriatingly charming smile.
I looked over at TJ. The white light around the body was beginning to fade. “Is that supposed to do that?”
“Yeah. It means his soul tether is complete. Now all you need to do is repair the body,” Riggs said, as if that were no big deal.
“How do I do that?”
Riggs pulled another table over close next to TJ and opened the medical bag. He produced a pair of syringes, some plastic tubing, and an IV bag of fluids. “Easy. We infuse the kid with some of your blood. Your Collective will do the rest. Once the body is fixed, we take him down to my temple, to The Well, and we stuff the kid’s soul back in him.”
The Collective. He knew about The Collective? Oh shit. Just who the hell was this guy?
“How did you—”
“Know about The Collective?” Riggs finished. “Haven’t you figured out that I don’t just know who you are, but what you are?” Riggs stared at me with knowing eyes. “Yes. I know about your Collective and what it is capable of.”
“If you know that much, then you know that—”
“That The Collective is DNA-encoded to you and you alone. Yeah, I know that as well.”
OK, this was getting really frustrating. If I didn’t need this guy so bad, I would be tempted to break his smug jaw.
“Here’s the catch, kid, so pay attention. There is something I know that you don’t about your Collective.”
I gave Riggs a look that said “Bullshit.” “Oh yeah? And just what’s that?”
“I know how to unlock the DNA encoding,” he said with a smile.
“That’s . . . impossible. My dad designed it to work only for me.”
“I know. Who do you think gave him the idea?”
“Bullshit,” I said.
Riggs smiled. I did not.
“I’m al
so the one who convinced him to build in a back door to the program. A back door that authorizes a DNA unlock. So the nanites can be transferred into a new host, creating a new Collective.”
“Why?”
“In case we ever had to weaponize it.”
I felt my face harden. “My dad would never do that.”
“There’s a lot about your old man you don’t know.” Riggs smirked. “From the look on your face, I can tell this is more of a shock than you were ready for. Odds are you are feeling a little confused and apprehensive about the idea.”
“Yeah,” I said. “A little freaking bit.”
“Well, good news for you. I’m taking the decision out of your hands,” Riggs said, standing up fast.
I was on my feet faster and ready for him to make a move. Riggs sighed.
“Look Isaac, I know you’re scared. But if you want to save the kid, then this is what we have to do.”
I looked at TJ, lying there. If I could help him, I would. I turned back to Riggs. “I still kinda want to shoot you.”
“I’m sure you do. Good thing for me you have an off switch.”
“What?” I asked. But before I could react, Riggs said something in a language I didn’t understand as he reached out and touched my forehead, and then I felt my body go limp.
Last thing I heard as my head hit the floor was Riggs saying “Sorry, kid.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Final Warning
Day Sixty-four of The Wild Hunt
“Report,” Chimera ordered.
The squad of redcaps refused to look at the huntmaster. The lead redcap idly looked towards the snowy ground. “Apologies, Huntmaster. The village is like the others.”
“Casualties?”
“Minimal, ma’am. He . . . terrorized them, took what he needed and fled.”
“Direction?”
“Unknown, Huntmaster. There were no tracks in the snow. Huntmaster, if I may?”
Chimera nodded for the redcap to continue.
“His attack patterns make no sense. He seems to randomly attack a village, then double back on his trail only to reappear a day’s march away.”