The Seventh Age: Dawn

by Rick Heinz

  “If they kill you, JJ, any blood-hungry sorcerer will see me instantly, potentially sending me screaming back into Vitala.”

  Ah, one of your dreaded seven Hindu hells. Fear not. If I kill you—well, that is my step three, actually. I can’t kill competitors without your power. So let’s just focus on step two.

  “Silence.” Mr. Bollard ran his hand over his bald head, feeling the crisp cold air and taking a deep breath. He refocused his efforts to keep his thoughts on the task at hand.

  “Are you ready?” Delilah asked.

  Startled by the diminutive woman who walked up behind him, and without hesitation, Mr. Bollard was forced to the back of his mind as JJ stole control of the body.

  “Yes, of course. To dinner, then?” JJ replied. He successfully masked his counterpart’s surprise.

  “Dinner is pushed back three hours and twenty minutes,” she replied. “The ritual is having some residual effects, bleeding out of these walls. The dignitaries must be hastened to explore so the gates can be sealed again upon the return of Lazarus.” Delilah pointed inside the building, and JJ followed her gaze, letting his awareness of his surroundings falter briefly.

  “Why shatter the gates open so far? I have been meaning to ask but was unable to find the perfect opportunity to pick your ear until we were alone,” JJ said as they began their walk.

  “I love the color purple,” she said, looking up at the moon.

  “That is out of character for you. You never let yourself relax on business.”

  “The world is changing. Can you fault a lady for taking in the sights?” She smiled. “Was your tour of the prison satisfactory earlier?”

  “Quite. I don’t think the United Nations will feel as kindly, though, when your technique is applied. You know, I’ve always enjoyed a harvest moon myself. Fall is my favorite time of year.”

  You are becoming too fond of her. She could still be an enemy.

  JJ chided Mr. Bollard internally before looking at Delilah with a warm smile. “Did you find the chemical agents to your liking?”

  “They say the secret to a real woman’s heart is weapons-grade chemical warfare.” She smiled. “How is this going to play out, JJ? Soon you’ll be leading forces of the Unification against demons pouring out of rifts. All to protect this.” She gestured out to the city. “Don’t die. The world would be less without men of integrity and taste. I feel Primus Vryce views this as a game. He’s holding back and took a risk holding his end of the ritual open longer.” She placed her arm around his. “All to compensate for some of the gates not opening as planned. As punishment, this region is going to be hit harder with the feedback of shredding the Innocence.” She reached down to hold his hand. It was cold, as if he had dipped it into ice. Mr. Bollard accepted and JJ embraced it.

  “I know your loyalty to him is unwavering. Just remember that it is you who orchestrated all of this. Without your service, our survival and our future would not exist. If the bleed is going to hit harder here, I’d like to know what I am going to face in the coming nights.”

  “Already prepared,” she said. “You will find all relevant information in your room tonight.”

  “I wish all my co-conspirators were as thorough as you. You truly have a gift, Delilah. I meant what I said a few days ago.” JJ paused and looked into her eyes. In another life perhaps, JJ thought, there would be something there.

  Not this one, however. I will force you to destroy her.

  “Do you truly need my assistance above with the dignitaries, or might I prepare our forces for the coming nights?” JJ held both her hands now. Mr. Bollard was unprepared when she leaned up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. JJ desired more. Mr. Bollard howled with fury just beneath the demeanor and resumed control. For a second, Delilah was the only thing in the world. Nobody saw the feet of JJ’s driver being dragged away in the distance.

  “Go. Do what you do best,” she said.

  JJ bowed, holding the position until Delilah had walked off. His next move was clear to him. He must warn Patrick O’Neil to prepare for even greater challenges from what would soon break into this world from the pits of hell. The driver opened the door to the car for JJ. Closing the door, the Whisper gave a slight nod to Delilah, letting her know that she had provided him with enough distraction to embed himself.

  Delilah waved before making a quick swipe on her tablet with a look of happiness.

  CHAPTER 17

  For something called the Emerald Tablet, it sure doesn’t look emerald. Or like a tablet, Gabriel thought as he opened more grimoires and arranged them on display within the Library of Deus. In the middle of the room sat the famous Emerald Tablet, displayed next to Vryce’s own works of the Arcannum Arcannimusim. The tablet, if that’s what it could be called, was more of a giant gray slab with circular grooves and arcane sigils carved into it. Of course, any markings on it are written in some godforsaken secret language that nobody probably knows anymore.

  It was a cruel irony, Gabriel mused as he continued dusting and cleaning. His first task as an apprentice was wholesale slaughter. His second, housekeeping. The library sat above the ritual chamber and was far more grandiose. Stained-glass windows lined the ceiling among carved marble columns. It was a cathedral for the arcane. Locked in a room filled with hundreds of magical spells, thanks to the oversight of his new best friend, Queneco, he had yet to open a single book for actual study. Just show me how to do it. I’ll pick it up with practice.

  “Ahem, missed a spot up here on the nineteenth shelf,” Roger said. “Did your mother not teach you how to work a dust mop?”

  Gabriel craned his neck, following the massive ladder up to Roger’s position. Where he held up one finger of his white gloves, faintly soiled by a slight smudge of dust. “My mother has six daughters,” said Gabriel. “If you think battling the Unification will be hard, just try and keep up with laundry.”

  “Tsk, tsk. Go grab the other ladder, Apprentice. I see a bloodstain down the way on sixteen.” Roger paused as something fetched his eye outside the window. “Hey, Gabriel.”

  “Yes?”

  “It’s just your mother, right, and a bunch of daughters, right? No men around, right?”

  “Yeah, what of it?”

  “That’s why you’re so angry, right? Can’t find a man to sweep you off your feet?”

  Delivering a swift kick to the base of Roger’s ladder, Gabriel gave an Italian flip-off. “They are all fate witches. Just wait until they are free.”

  Roger looked down at him. “We’ll let you bring them here, you know. Once this ritual is over. We have medical clinics that are designed to help people through blood withdrawal. Soon enough, hearts as well, to get them bending all the fate they want as well.” His lips quivered as he suppressed a laugh.

  “Kindness doesn’t suit you.”

  “I’m actually not kidding. You were handpicked by the big shots. Vryce only takes on apprentices once a century, and you’re this century’s pick. Even more, he made you a blade, so you better claim your sacrificial role. And fast,” Roger said, grabbing both ends of the ladder and sliding down like a fireman.

  “Fast?” Gabriel asked as the glass above the library shattered into a thousand pieces, falling down like stain-glassed rain. The severed torso of a society member thudded on the Emerald Tablet. “Sacrifice?” Gabriel fell backward as silver- winged creatures shattered through library windows.

  “Yes, shield me with your body!” Roger said as he ran past Gabriel out the exit. “I’m a lover, not a fighter!” His voice trailed off.

  “Coward,” Gabriel said, as he stared down one of the several long-armed luminescent creatures. Their bodies were disproportionate and frail-looking. They moved with a slight flicker, as if they skipped seconds in time. Gabriel smirked and snapped his fingers to command the blood within the nearest demon to ignite.

  His smirk quickly faded as nothing happened. That’s . . . not a . . . demon. Fear welled up within Gabriel as he ran for the exit. In a flicker,
it was blocked by three more creatures. The sword! Where did I leave it? He sprinted to the other side of the library, sliding underneath the Emerald Tablet as silver blades stabbed the ground around him. He planted his shoe to recover momentum and swung at a creature in front of him. As his fist passed through the surprisingly ethereal creature, an overwhelming urge for survival flooded into Gabriel, followed by the raw emotion of judgmental disdain.

  He lost his balance and fell to the ground, winded on impact. He was only meters away from the sword when the futility set in. The room was swarming with the creatures.

  “Your role is not sacrifice, but to build our own piece of the kingdom,” Vryce’s voice echoed from the shadows on the library walls. The creatures wretched in agony from the sound alone and glowed brighter with hatred. Vryce continued. “I was born just as you were, who auspiciously knew his true name by birthright, allowing command of demon blood.”

  Gabriel was frozen with a soul-gripping terror. The creatures were only concerned with locating the source of the voice. They cared little for the useless human at their feet.

  “To become a warlock, a soul stealer, I had to shatter my own soul in ritual and consume the hearts of an angel and demon. My body is animated by my will alone. What happens to your body if you die, Gabriel?” A bolt of electricity slammed into a creature near Gabriel, causing an explosion of light. “This has allowed me to be a vessel for six hundred years, collecting the souls of others to survive. We warlocks have nearly infinite temporal magic as long as souls exist to feed us.”

  Get it together. I refuse to be useless. Pushing back the fear in his mind, Gabriel heaved himself off the ground, making a mad dash for the blade. A silver dagger was thrust through his right hand in a skip through time, pinning it to a bookshelf. With his left hand, he stretched to the blade, only inches away from his fingertips. From behind him came the dull thud of several blades stabbing wood.

  The ill-formed assailants stalked the room. Gabriel felt their warmth on the back of his neck as they hovered by the blade and him. “Oh, just do it already!” he shouted.

  “The divinity of man is lost to us forever. Like Lilith, exiled from the gardens. Without our human souls, we can never be more.” A pulse of frozen air filled the room before all light was extinguished, covered in complete shadow. Inhuman screeches were muffled as Gabriel felt Vryce do . . . something. “Or so they say.” Gabriel heard clearly over the wailing in the shadows. “I have a once-in-a-thousand-years opportunity to piece my shattered soul back together. I have mere days to steal it back and bind it. You have but a second in time to decide your fate.”

  A small whimper came out from behind the Emerald Tablet. Gabriel saw a hint of a feathered wing as the shadows retreated back to the corners. Wincing, he pulled the dagger out of his hand and crept around the side. Crouched up, arms around her knees, was a lady with golden hair, longer than she was tall, and angel wings with feathers covered in ash and blood. “We have a visitor,” Gabriel said to the room.

  “Meet your first angel, or in this specific case, a virtue of growth. I cannot fend off the Unification demons that cross over here or the multitude of enemies we make while I hunt for what’s mine. So you will do that. You will be the weapon that ensures the Society of Deus succeeds. By your hand, you shall judge which souls lend us fuel. To do that, you are going to need power, power which I hand to you on a silver platter. This rare angel has agreed so kindly for you to kill her and consume her heart.” The voice dripped with disdain.

  “She may not agree with my means”—a spell of telekinesis lifted the angel—“but she understands the ends. We have given them a beacon leading them home. To restore the kingdom of magic, the divine must be shackled under our rule, uniting them with that divine spark latent in all human souls once again. Some will come with swords drawn, seeking vengeance for their banishment. Others, I’ve learned over the past century, believe in my vision.” A moment of sadness filled the room before the internal fire of Vryce’s conviction continued. “So she will serve in ushering in the dawn of the Seventh Age. Give her a quick death.”

  Gabriel was amazed at her small, frail frame and fingered the cold blade in his hand. “You want me to toss aside my soul, everything I am, and become like those losers outside we sacrifice by eating her heart?” Gabriel took a step closer to the angel. The desire for power of this magnitude being offered to him caused his hands to clench the sword, yet his pride was strong enough to stay the blade.

  “No. Do not mistake yourself for a demon-blooded junkie, a mere blooded sorcerer. Angel hearts do not offer strength on demand. They grow within you over time as you push limits. The cost is banishment from the sun’s rays. Your soul will not be shredded unless you are made into a warlock. Even then, there are ways to reclaim your birthright. You face vampires of immeasurable strength or demon hordes. Look beyond your myopic viewpoint of pride. If you want magic to return to the world in force, along with all the freedom it brings, then you must do this,” Vryce said, his presence fading from the room.

  Gabriel ran his injured, trembling hand along the blade and looked out the shattered windows, witnessing another battle begin in the distance. Minutes crawled by in silence. This is a terrible thing. Does the end justify the means?

  For the first time that week Gabriel did not enjoy killing.

  CHAPTER 18

  “But the cowardly, the unbelieving, the vile, the murderers, the sexually immoral, those who practice magic arts, the idolaters, and all liars. They will be consigned to the fiery lake of burning sulfur. This is the second death!” Reverend Matthews shouted to his congregation. He stood with an assault rifle pointed at the head of a visibly shaking teenage girl who could only manage a quiet whimper.

  A hellhound was flayed open on the altar, its legs still twitching. “The seven seals are being broken! Soon shall come forth the blackening of the sun, the sixth seal before the seventh, where heaven itself is silent.” The reverend raised his free hand over the girl’s head. “We shall be martyrs and die here today in the name of the alpha and omega. We shall be reborn in glory to fight the forces of darkness at the side of our savior when the sixth bowl is poured from the heavens unto earth!” His finger began to squeeze the trigger. A millimeter away from oblivion, the reverend and his ninety-eight congregation members froze. All within the church was silent.

  Charles Walsh fidgeted with his pocket watch, opening and closing it, the ticking was the only sound that echoed through the church in St. Paul. He took his time as he slid open the tall doors to the church and walked into the sermon. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but you do know that book was written by men in Rome, right?” Charles said to himself. Nobody in the congregation could hear him. I often wonder what is in their thoughts during these precious moments. A great gift this is, the ability to freeze time itself. Even if the cost means I die sooner. Charles took a stroll and admired the vaulted ceilings and stained-glass artwork. The odd colors of the night sky only added to their wonder.

  Walsh had a love of architecture, and in these moments where his life was ticking away by the minute, he made sure to enjoy every flaw and imperfection that was to be found. For every person in the room that was forced to stand frozen in time, Charles lost three minutes at the end of his life per minute purchased. Of course, no deal for blood was ever without its cost. Charles had to set the amount of time he wished up front. He had purchased seven minutes for this endeavor.

  A reverend getting his hands on a hellhound and killing his entire congregation would be difficult for him to cover up. Regardless of the celebrity weddings, divorces, and manufactured dramas created by the Unification, this story would be headline news.

  Charles walked up to the altar and pulled out the clip of bullets in the assault rifle. “You see, Reverend Matthews, I have already had enough persecution from your lot because of my choice in lovers. God is about love, not killing a fourteen-year-old girl for your interpretation of the Bible.” Charles removed every bullet from the
clip and put it back empty.

  He made sure to check there was not a round in the chamber, and upon finding one, removed that as well. “To your congregation, this will all seem as if it were a bad dream, that you snapped and used Halloween props to scare them. The congregation will be saved from you.”

  Charles leaned down and removed a tear from the girl’s face, pushing some of her hair back behind her ear and giving her a kiss on the forehead. “You will be fine, my dear. Just have faith that there are those of us who truly want suffering to end for all.” He straightened his vest and began to walk back out into the night.

  A SWAT team stood ready at all entrances, poised to break in. He made his way back inside his car, looking out his passenger window, where the commander, a helldiver, leaned in the window. Face frozen in a contorted scrunch as he was asking a question. Charles slammed his watch shut and put it back in his vest.

  “. . . to move in, sir?” the commander asked.

  “Yes, you are free to mobilize. Ensure the reverend is arrested alive and that nobody is harmed before your men dive. You know the rest of my revised cleanup routine.” Charles rolled up his window and began to drive away. What part of peaceful and quiet did the dignitaries not understand? How hard is it to kill a demon and slink into its shadow without witness? He started to activate the car’s automated phone process.

  “Call Delilah Dumont,” he said.

  “Would you like to call Delilah Dumont?” the program responded.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry, I did not understand.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry, I did not understand.”

  “Call . . . Delilah . . . Dumont.”

  “That is not a registered command.”

  Lovely, we can rip open a portal to hell, but you can’t get voice recognition to work. We are so going to die. He took the simpler route of dialing by hand.