The Seventh Age: Dawn

by Rick Heinz

  Mr. Bollard’s hand grew larger and full of white fur as he shifted and moved in to swipe at her. Phoebe moved to dodge the blow, the talons slicing her hair as she ducked and rolled off the bed, throwing the sheets up between them for a quick distraction. “Wait,” she said after she had distance between them. “I already know how this plays out.”

  “Do you, my dear? Then you understand why this is needed.” Mr. Bollard shifted back into human form, cracking his neck and fixing his cuff links.

  “Yeah, pretty simple. You can’t let them have their resident psychic. All your plans would be spoiled if I was sitting around. So you eliminate me, take me out of the picture before I walk out of the room.” She pointed at him. “Except you aren’t going to kill me. You can’t. So you were going to slam my head into that desk until I blacked out.”

  “Really? I admit even I had not thought that far. Particularly the killing-you part.” He grinned and stepped forward with caution, making sure he was cornering his prey.

  “Yep. That’s what happens. So here’s what’s going to happen now. You are going to open your tool kit over there. You have a syringe and a vial. I’m going to inject myself and knock myself out for the next day or so. Then you’re going to have us all imprisoned. I won’t say anything, because the end result is good for both of us. We’ll both get what we want.” She motioned to her bare arms and slapped her wrists as she spoke. She was still on the balls of her feet, though, ready to sprint if something went wrong.

  “I wish all future prisoners were as interesting and able to recognize the inevitable as you.” Mr. Bollard opened his tool kit and produced the required instruments.

  “No, you don’t. You are a shit-for-brains demon who gets off on Machiavellian manipulation, thinking you can con your way into freedom. Nothing gets you hard like watching people fail as you claim their success. But you’ve killed the wrong person, and pissed off someone very determined. So you need me alive for your plan to get close. I don’t fear you, alone, in this room.” Phoebe caught the vial and began to work, handling the syringe like an expert junkie.

  Mr. Bollard grinned with pointed rows of teeth, his eyes gleaming red. “You are far too dangerous to let run around. You lied to Mike when he asked you if there were visions. Left out information. Why?”

  “Have you seen him? It’s on us to save him, not the other way around. It’s all or nothing with him, and he’s better off as a wild card. Not knowing what’s in store for him. Hope is a fragile thing. If he knew the truth, it would break him.” She winced as she injected. “See you on the other side.” Her eyes rolled back into her head, and she collapsed.

  Bollard picked her up and placed her on the bed. Moving her hair away from her face, he felt JJ remark at just how beautiful she was. The plans were coming into place. Soon, he would be the one who captured the Unification’s forces that were responsible for turning off the fuel and “killing Delilah.” Right in time for Primus Vryce to have his grand ceremony in his libraries. With Delilah out of the picture, he could position himself close enough to Vryce to strike. Afterward, the Unification would have all the tools in place to control this city and its rift.

  JJ forced a thought to the surface for Mr. Bollard. You really think Vryce is going to show up when he is at his most vulnerable? No wonder demons are nothing more than hearts to be eaten by warlocks.

  “Silence. He will be there. Once he’s dead, we finish our goal and then circle back to Delilah at our leisure.”

  Use her new addiction to blood and force her to repurpose this city for our agenda.

  “I told you this was the only way,” Bollard snarled.

  This is how the world is saved.

  “From itself.” Bollard pulled out his phone and a coin with the laws of thermodynamics printed on it and began rotating the coin in his fingers.

  “Yes, this is Ridari Bollard. I’m alive. I need a daytime assault crew. I have the location of the group that kidnapped Delilah and myself.” Mr. Bollard frowned as he looked into the mirror. A rogue white hair had sprung up on his head. He plucked it out with a twinge of pain.

  Leave no trace. This is my body after all.

  “Deal.” Mr. Bollard smiled to himself.

  CHAPTER 38

  Mike kept his hands in his pockets as he walked around downtown St. Paul. Unlike the Second City, St. Paul did not accept the sacred hour of 3:00 a.m. as one of peace. People bustled about among the Gothic architecture of the city as if it were daytime. Shadows were cast at odd angles, adding an element of depth to the city. It was a place that hid many secrets in its walls. He did not like this city. It felt wrong to him. The young man out jogging at this hour; the couple walking down the street, holding hands, smiling; and the salaryman flagging a cab with his briefcase after a late night were all out of place. Mike stood out like a vegan in a barbecue house. His trench coat was dirtier, but also filled with more of his own flavor. His boots told a story. Everyone else seemed plastic, and Mike realized what was bothering him.

  None of them are going to die as it stands. Not in a car accident, not of a gunshot, not of disease, not of a piano falling from a building. Nobody out at this hour had any chance of dying, even of old age. Maybe that’s why they didn’t panic like the people did in the Second City. They kept their heads down and did their jobs and trusted in the government. Heh. As immortal as these guys might be, they don’t seem to have much of a life either.

  A girl’s scream broke the night air, followed by the bellow of a shotgun. Nobody reacted. They just kept about their night. Oh, hell no. Mike broke into a sprint. He heard the sound from behind the cathedral and climbed on a parapet to get a better view.

  A dozen or so men and women, naked, with black leathery wings stood handcuffed in a line below. Black tears rolled down their faces, making them look like a sad Goth parade. A soldier in full riot gear grabbed the next in line and threw it against the wall.

  Its form changed from man to woman back to man again, each more pleasing to the eye than the last as it begged. Without hesitation a firing squad unloaded into it. Mike could see the glint of silver rounds burning its flesh as it was ripped to shreds. As the creature fell to its knees, it was already turning to ash. In a blur, the captain of the soldiers rushed in and ripped out a heart with his wicked set of long, reddish claws.

  “Men, who captured this succubus? Was it you, Thomas?” the captain said.

  “Aye, Ridari Westin,” said the soldier as he saluted.

  “Claim your prize, then, and load the next. We rendezvous with D’Angelo in twenty minutes. Our break only lasts so long. Pick up the pace, scum.” He threw the heart over to the soldier, who began to devour it with zeal as he stepped to the side and another one took his place on the firing squad.

  This isn’t a fight. It’s a damn execution. Never thought I would feel bad for the demons, but damn. Frankie did say not all demons were bad. Well, we are supposed to take out the ridari. I might as well cross one off the list. Mike jumped from his perch, almost reaching as high as the top of the bell tower before falling down to his target. The soldier leveled his gun at the next succubus in line, his finger on the trigger and a greedy smile in his eyes.

  The soldier didn’t have time to scream before he was crushed when Mike landed on him. A quick right jab buried the head of the next soldier into the brick wall. Mike stayed close to the ground and ran to the third soldier, bringing his foot up to kick him, crushing his ribs and sending him flying out of the alley, where he crashed like a broken doll into a car.

  The remaining four men and Westin were still recovering from the initial impact. Mike didn’t hesitate before grabbing a shotgun from one of them and using it as a baseball bat on another, burying him into the wall.

  “Time to redecorate, boys,” Mike said as he cracked his knuckles and pulled out a cue ball in a sock from his pocket. He began spinning it.

  “Interesting,” said Westin. “Get him.” The remaining three and Westin closed in. Westin was a blur of spee
d himself as he tried to claw and rip at Mike.

  Mike spun the cue ball around and whipped it into the first soldier’s face. The weapon ripped out his jaw. Westin’s claws found purchase in Mike’s side and were beginning to rend his guts out.

  “Really? That tickles,” Mike joked.

  Mike brought his knee up and elbow down to dislodge Westin with bone-crunching force. Westin fell to the ground with a look of terror on his face. Raising his boot to curb-stomp him into oblivion, Mike brought it down with full force only to crumple the concrete below. Westin used his speed to retreat to the end of the alley.

  A shotgun blast from a soldier behind him brought Mike to his knee in panic. A wooden bolt jutted out of his chest, just below his heart. He missed! Oh my, that’s luck. Mike brushed himself off and looked back at the soldier. “Ouch, man, what the hell! I like this coat. Who said you could use a gun?” The soldier’s eyes went wide before Mike buried his head into the wall next to the succubus. Mike grabbed the foot of the body and threw it back at Westin, who was turning into mist already. “Ah, shit. He got away.” He turned to the succubus. “Did you know he could turn to mist?”

  “Yes,” the creature said, changing shape to a pretty female with large eyes and short green hair. “Thank you,” she said.

  “Uh, you can talk. Great. That makes it harder. Also, I’m dead. I don’t think seduction is going to work,” Mike said.

  “You are a vampire. Seduction is your thing, and it works just fine. Besides, I’m not trying. Are you going to kill us or let us go? We aren’t here to enslave the world or whatever you guys think. We just want out of the pit. Wouldn’t you run from hell if you got the chance?” she said.

  “Point taken. All right. I don’t have the time for this anyway. Tell you what. Leave this place. Go west. I bet Sin City is a perfect place for you guys. I can’t believe I’m saving demons from humans. What the hell is going on?” Mike gestured out of the alley. “Get out of here before I change my mind.”

  “We’ll remember this, honey. The hounds already spread rumors of you. You’ve earned a favor from us. You vampires never know when you need one returned. Our master, Dorian, will remember you, the one in the green coat.” She pilfered a set of keys from a fallen soldier before they made their way out into the night. “Your name?” she looked back before she left.

  “Auburn,” he said. Well, I’m just going to keep this between me and this wall. What the hell is in these guns? Mike reached down, took out a shell, and examined it. It was custom-made and filled with silver. The shell had a strange occult marking on it, almost like a rune. Great. Magic bullets. Well, I’ve caused enough noise. I need to get back. I think I’m going to enjoy beating these guys up.

  The crummy motel was silent by the time Mike returned. Everyone was already asleep or bedding down before dawn. Mike let himself into his room on the first floor and closed the door. He flipped over the “No Smoking” sign on his nightstand and lit one up as he inspected the drapes. He didn’t like the security they offered against the sun and decided that he was going to sleep in the bathtub. He moved a few pillows and all the bedsheets to the yellow-stained tub and shut the door. Maybe this is why the legends always sleep in coffins. Better than motel bathrooms.

  Mike, nestled in his bathtub, was jostled awake at the sound of a grenade. He was tired. Moving sluggishly, he crawled out of the bathtub like he had the worst hangover. A single small ray of sunlight leaking through the bathroom door scorched his hand. Flesh burned off in an instant, and Mike let out a howl as his bone was revealed. No, not again. Not the sun. His mind raced in panic, anything to avoid the terror of the barrel again.

  He heard the door to the motel room slamming open, the chain snapping off its weak screws with a loud ping followed by the sounds of another object bouncing. The door to the bathroom rattled after another explosion. Soldiers filed in after. “Clear the drapes! Flip the bed. Let’s bring the sun, boys.” A series of shotgun blasts littered the room.

  It would take them seconds before this door was kicked down and he was sent to his burning demise. Think, man. Think. You’re fucking trapped in a bathroom and you led them here. You let Westin get away. Wait. Daytime. They are humans or just blooded like Matsen. If they come in here, I can still kill them.

  Mike sluggishly pulled himself into a fight stance in the bathtub. He put his hands against the slimy tile behind him, shaking from fear as he lifted his boot out and placed it on the floor. It didn’t burn. Good. Still he had seconds to come up with a solution. Maybe they are just as scared.

  “You come in here and I’ll rip your heads off, assholes,” Mike said. “I’ve got a toilet I can rip out and smash three of you with. Nobody wants to die by getting hit with a shitter.”

  The response was not what Mike had hoped for as the gunfire started. Flecks of plaster and drywall filled the air as bullets ripped through Mike’s body. Diving into the bathtub for cover as the barrage continued, he curled up in a fetal position. The specks of sunlight just above had pinned him inside a porcelain prison.

  “Our orders are to capture you alive. You are pinned down on all sides, and we know exactly how to get that room full of the sun,” shouted a voice after the gunfire stopped. The sounds of them reloading did not set Mike at ease. Nor did the thought of being paralyzed again and at their complete mercy.

  Ahhh, bloody hell. Might as well go out with some glory and try to escape. He grabbed the end of the bathtub from inside, knocking moldy tile aside as he heaved. Rolling with the bathtub, he yanked it out of the wall. Water showered the room. Burying his head and hands in the tub for cover, Mike pushed out like a football player moving a defensive lineman. He threw the tub with the force of a moving car through the wall toward the gunmen behind it. Before the sunlight blasted him, Mike shouldered a sidewall into the next apartment. It gave way like papier-mâché.

  “Ooooh yeah!” Mike shouted, remembering the Kool-Aid man as he dived into the next room. SWAT soldiers were already zipping up a body bag in there. The light was not as profuse as it was in Mike’s room. Why is my room so special? Light is light. It should be everywhere. Are they using mirrors? Fucking hacks! That’s a great idea! We should steal that tactic.

  He pounded a soldier’s head off and then elbowed another one in the skull, knocking him out. He grabbed the body bag and ran through the wall into the next room. Ha! They fucked up. They should have taken out the guy with super strength first.

  He continued to slam through the motel, bullets ripping through his legs and gut, with little effect. A bolt was sticking out of his back by the time he reached the end of the motel. The goons were far enough behind that he had some more time to look at the situation. The parking lot was crawling with them. They were loading body bags into armored carriers. Of course it has to be a sunny day, one of those annoying ones without a cloud in the sky. Mike would have to worry about his team members later. If I die now, there will be nobody to save them later. Inside he knew it was because he was terrified of the sunlight. Even if he wanted to step out, he could not.

  He was trapped in the farthest motel room, and soldiers were starting to close in. He couldn’t run or hide. The weight of exhaustion from the day pulled on him. Even with all this action, he wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed.

  It was the cage of the motel that was the problem; if he could make it into the city, hell, the sewers, Mike was sure he would be fine. Sewers. Mike yanked a tattered mattress with dirty sheets off the bed, hoisting it over his head like a makeshift umbrella. He screamed as he kicked the door to the outside off its hinges. Trying his best to carry whichever friend was in the bag and balancing a dirty mattress on his back, Mike scurried outside. Ooooh, I’m so dead. This is how it happens. You know, death by sunburn.

  He stumbled for a moment when a bullet ripped through his knee. The shift in balance exposed his left wrist to the burning sun, and he collapsed. The sewer lid was paces away still, and the world felt as if it were on fire. He crawled with d
esperation, trying to get closer, when he heard the car coming at him. The SUV was barreling down on his location, and Mike was running out of strength. He jammed his arm into the asphalt and braced himself for impact.

  The taste of blood and metal filled Mike’s mouth as the vehicle crumpled into him. Skin began to melt off his face as glass and metal shrapnel shattered around him. The SUV tumbled and flew over him. Mike grabbed on. Momentum carried them closer to his destination. Tumbling with the crash, he buried his fingers into the sewer lid.

  His wrists were liquefied, in flames from the sun as he ripped off the lid. Mike thrust the body bag down the hole and dived in after, banging his head on the far side with a loud clang. He tumbled down into the water below and snapped his leg on impact. He wished he were really dead. The pain from the sun was intense. He tried to pull the body bag, but his hands were only bone by now, except the parts hidden by the gloves. Blood. I need blood.

  Mike clumsily opened the body bag, hoping it was Phoebe or one of her girls. Instead, he found Akira, who had an arrow sticking out of her chest. Fuck. Well, hopefully you can save me now. A flash grenade exploding in the water nearby deafened Mike and blurred his vision.

  With his limbs all but useless, Mike did everything he could to get the bolt dislodged, eventually resorting to biting on it to pull it out. It tasted different than wood, like it was covered in blood and ash. Akira opened her eyes wide. She took one look at Mike, who was beginning to pass out when the first set of boots landed in the small stream. Akira sliced the soldier’s neck with a claw, so fast it was like a wound simply appeared on his neck. I knew she was fast . . . buuuut. The thought was lost as Mike faded.

  “Mike, take my hand. Do not move. Whatever happens. Do not move.” Akira grabbed his bloody hand. Mike winced in pain. “Do not move.” Pulling themselves as far to the side as possible, she thrust Mike and herself under the chilling water that filled the storm drain.