“I’d give nearly anything to experience being one that way,” Abe whispered to Dave. Abe’s body shook. Of the others, only Uffie and Tracy weren’t half hysterical, but even Uffie looked stressed. Kara had retreated inside herself, eyes closed, shaking, muttering prayers under her breath and radiating terror.
Dave shook his head. For sheer out and out embarrassment, nothing beat the ‘being one’ state in a stress situation. Although he thought he had made all the decisions and done everything, he knew this was just a trick of the ‘being one’ state. The only things he suspected he contributed had been the hunch to use Persona and the rescue plan, or at least most of the plan. He didn’t know who had contributed the commentary about the old man ogling Diana or the boob and ass aspersions, but he had the urge to spank whichever one of the two suspects had. “You would need to have already survived the same sort of hell Elorie and I have to have a chance of coming out of the oneness state sane.” Memories of hanging upside down in the Burçak underground in Cappadocia swam though Dave’s mind. Abe hadn’t liked that part of his story. “I can’t ever go back to being what I was before all this started. If the 99 Gods vanished, the authorities would likely find a way to institutionalize me within six months. Is that what you want?”
“I’m half way there already from my own experiences fighting Hell-beasts, a different form of insanity, but no,” Abe said.
Santa Fe’s workshop and underground lair turned out to be a convoluted mess, not by design, but built piecemeal as new needs arose. Ken teeked them through the number four security entrance, located in a motel bathroom, and then straight down the vertical passageway under the toilet to the detention level. Nessa kept them invisible. Elorie kept them immune to willpower. Dave, ordered to keep his mental shields up full and not try a damn thing otherwise because nobody trusted him in a melee yet, directed them according to a map written into his memories by Nessa. In his mind quite noticeably now, Persona huddled down, her willpower focused on invulnerability and protections against detections. In his mind, they held hands, both scared shitless.
He and Persona matched well. For this he loved the God with all his soul.
They found Diana in a sterile, high ceilinged room in the care of five Santa Fe Supported, hooked up to an array of willpower objects. Santa Fe’s people had Diana opened up cadaver-like: the top of her skull removed, pieces of her spinal cord showing, and all the major trunk nerves tapped. The ever-silent Epharis moaned and shed tears like rivers, in pain for her daughter. The rest of the Indigo hissed and growled but they kept their discipline and didn’t lose their tempers. They wore enough firepower to lay waste to this room and many others, but Dave knew that none of them would survive if they did so. Santa Fe would make sure of that.
They crept up to the Santa Fe Supported, Ken flipping gravity so that they were inverted but felt normal. Nessa waved her hands until she directed Ken’s teek, fine tuning style, to where she could touch the Supported. The Supported went out on lunch break, one at a time, not a one harmed in the slightest.
Elorie similarly touched the willpower enchantments, nullifying them but not destroying them; Persona leapt from Dave into Diana, the only way they could keep her alive. Diana’s body reknit itself in real-time, significantly faster than Persona’s usual tricks.
Epharis got out the cooler of blood they had swiped from an Albuquerque hospital, but instead of IVing Diana, she fed her daughter the blood vampire style. This didn’t surprise anyone here (though Nessa and Ken and Dave and Elorie each thought they were the only one who knew). Ken rearranged the teek to drop Diana into the arms of her mother, and the rest of the Indigo gathered round and grabbed hold. Love, Diana would need love and the rest of them needed encouragement. Dave made sure he had skin contact with Diana; he whispered reassurances to her, despite his ambivalence. Diana, conscious, had been about the most exasperating individual he had ever encountered.
As they crept out of Santa Fe’s lair Diana opened her one remaining functional eye and looked them over. “Dave Estrada – good,” she said, a pause between slurps of blood. “I told Abe to get hold of you if Santa Fe got me. You need to know that if you stay with the Telepaths for more than a few days it’s going to cost you your soul.”
Diana was supposedly the best, a top end Sibyl. Not perfect, as she couldn’t prevent her own kidnapping even though she knew it stalked her, but the best. Her voice triggered memories of her elliptical commentary to him in the one time they had met before, and memories of his utter annoyance.
“I’ve been with them for six months, Diana,” Dave said.
“Oh, well, sorry I guess it’s too late, then. In that case, the book’s going to be a best seller and you’re not going to need to work another day in whatever life you have remaining.”
For this he had risked himself and Elorie?
“Pueblo, Colorado?” Abe said. “Why are we going there?”
“Supplies, a private roof over our heads, and because it’s the closest decent sized town in a neutral God’s territory,” Dave said. Boise’s territory, to be exact.
“It’ll do, Abe,” Diana said. She huddled now in Abe’s arms, one hand in Kara’s and the other in Epharis’s. Kara hadn’t stopped crying since the rescue. Dave still kept contact with Diana, hand on her now thankfully healed leg. If he even thought about letting go he teared up. “Thank you all for this. Abe, I’m afraid Santa Fe learned too much from me. He can directly detect us now, he knows about our enhanced healing tricks, and he hates unnaturals of all varieties with a passion. He wants to kill us as slowly and painfully as he can, and he wants to do worse to the Telepaths.”
“Which is why we’re speeding along like this,” Dave said. Sweat poured off Ken and Nessa’s faces; from the color of the atmosphere Dave guessed they were almost fifty miles up. He had never seen Ken fly them so high or so quickly before.
“I accept your thanks, Diana,” Persona said, her voice appearing in the air from nothing. Her flying capabilities sucked, but she was able to keep a breathable air bubble around them. “I’m used to the job, though not with vampires like yourself.” The Indigo people winced at the word ‘vampire’. “Whenever I’m out with Nessa and Ken on one of their capers, it’s back to being the magical healing machine and back to being terrified out of my ever-loving mind.” Dave nodded in sympathy.
“Oh, it isn’t just me, then?” Uffie said. She held Alana right now. Elorie held Zach, nursing him. “At least this beats having airplanes shot out from underneath you. Nothing like exploding jet fuel drenching you to shift your perspectives on life. Nessa and Ken have never been good for the digestion.”
Christine folded in on herself and shuddered after hearing Uffie’s words.
“Nessa and Ken’s tricks are better than the alternative,” Elorie said, grousing. “Trust me.” Zach started to cry; Elorie sighed and went back to comforting him.
“Fine, fine, fine,” Diana said. “Shut up now. It’s time to let the crazy Oracle babble. I think I learned as much from them as they learned from me. First, Santa Fe’s been experimenting with something he picked up from the ruins of the Seven Suits organization, merging multiple Supported together. The outcome is a monster and the process is hideously evil. Second, the City of God’s close to figuring out how to make an improved variety of Supported, but Santa Fe’s people didn’t know the details. Third, Santa Fe has an insane hatred of Jell-O. He’s…”
Dave tuned Diana out, not sure how much of any of her babbling to believe.
10. (John)
“They asked for us by name, Monseigneur Lorenzi,” Lara Minor said. John shook his head and wondered about what passed for security at Anchorage’s Ted Stevens International Airport. Satan walked up to beside John in the private jet’s modest passenger section, a mug of honey-sweetened tea in her hand.
“Cabbalists,” she said. “On my airplane. I can even smell the stench of a story queen actively backing them. You are fools to attempt me here, even for my enemies.”
The last few days had been impossible, and finding these two unexpectedly here on their plane, supposedly invited by the Watchers, just about topped everything. “Bais, these two lounging in your swivel chairs are Lara Minor and Grover March, of the Indigo. This isn’t an attack, and, no, I didn’t invite them here or even know they were coming. They are as you say, but they are also different from your old Aristocrat nemeses.” The European Cabbalist group, the Aristocrats, with their nonsensical group goals, crazy subgroups and holier than thou attitude had never been easy for him to deal with, but at least they hadn’t hunted him. Well, more than once or twice. Satan, on the other hand, had traded head-slaps with them for centuries. His words didn’t stop Satan, who advanced on the two, her cane upraised. “Do note that Reed took one look at Grover and fled,” he said. “Grover’s a Skeptic.”
Satan stopped and put down her cane. The old European Aristocrat group not only didn’t have any Skeptics among them, they occasionally hunted them. The two Indigo politely and warily smiled at Satan.
“Our hidden backer talked to us for several hours about the old conflict,” Lara said. Grover nodded, willing to let Lara do the talking today. If John read Grover’s body language correctly, he was ready to skeptic the entire airplane if any of them twitched badly. At least they were still on the ground; if he got extremely riled, he had been known to Skeptic modern electronics into dysfunction. “She agrees with your assessment of the Euro Enhanced idiots, as does anyone in the Indigo who’s ever had to deal with them. She’s of the opinion we can work together, and that you’re going to appreciate some of what our group’s been working on for the last twenty five years.”
“Perhaps,” Satan said. She backed away from the two and sat herself in one of the private jet’s swivel seats. John took the opportunity to sink his heavy body into a chair as well. Satan tapped her cane on the jet’s carpeting and thought. From her posture, she was still weighing either provoking them into attacking her or leveling a horrific Satanic curse on them. John had the urge to back away, or run, but he owed these two too much to flee from what might turn into a deadly confrontation. Instead, he bent his magic to projecting calm and reason.
“You call yourselves the Indigo?” Satan said, after taking a sip of her tea. “Is the name a random Americanism, or do you know the mystical reason behind the name?”
“We know the reason,” Lara said. Her smile grew tighter and more forced. She was one of the founders of the Indigo, and appeared to be holding her sanity together better than John had ever seen from her. She stood about five-six, with a thick muscular body that seemed far more corded with muscles than in their last meeting. Her hair today mimicked that of the Indigo’s backer, inky black with indigo highlights. She was an impressively powerful witch, even more so with a functional Grover beside her. In addition to his other strange skills and tricks, Grover was also a well-trained source, a mystical battery witches could call upon when needed. If he wasn’t being skeptical, that is; he couldn’t do both at once. These two were flighty, dangerous and in their own insane fashion, heroic. Still, he never liked having to deal with the Georgia branch of this Cabbalist organization. They always did unpredictable things like this. “One of our founders – a student of Monseigneur Lorenzi – was an Indigo, able to learn any of the learnable occult systems. This trick’s been catalyzed on to all of us by the, um, story queen you sense.”
“You can project skepticism as well?” Satan said to Lara, now intrigued.
“There’s a big difference between being able to learn to do a little skeptical projection and having the trick be usable in a real-world situation,” Lara said. “Which for me is ‘not’.”
Satan grunted and shook her head. “How many Telepaths has your group killed?”
“Killed?” Lara said.
Grover patted her hand. Lara might be muscled like a fighter, but Grover still sported the sagging belly and thin legs John recognized from years past. “Roccario’s doing, I’m sure,” he said in his nasal voice. Constantine Roccario was the head of the European Aristocrat’s Hunter wing. He was an acquisitive man, regularly violent, and dangerous because of his charm and semi-immortality. “There’s a reason I howl whenever we’re forced to deal with that monster.”
Lara nodded. “None. Or, at least that I know of. The only time we kill people is in self-defense, albeit by our own loose definition of self-defense.” She sighed and let her gaze wander out a round airplane window. “I don’t want to lie to you, though. We have been rough on a few Telepaths in the past. We’ve also worked with Telepaths, and there are Psychics in our organization these days.”
“Look at me and tell me whether or not this is some sort of suicide mission for you two,” Satan said.
“Not a suicide mission at all,” Grover said, almost looking at Satan. “Though I’ve been told repeatedly I will need to be on my best and quietest behavior if I’m going to survive dealing with the Watchers. Their reputation among, uh, whatever, is, uh, rather prickly.”
Satan turned to Lara. Lara’s fake smile dimmed. “Are you talking orders or personal viewpoints?” Lara said.
“Orders.”
“Our orders are to be polite, learn whatever the Watchers want to teach, and find a way to get back home, avoiding all divine entanglements if possible,” Lara said.
“And if it costs you your life you don’t give a crap,” Satan said.
“I’ve lost one member of my family already, someone I raised as a semi-adopted child,” Lara said. “I may have lost others I don’t know about yet. I expect to lose more. Several of us have already been, um, tossed through the insanity and come back changed, enough so I’m going to need to relearn to love them. No, ma’am, I don’t expect to return home the same person I am now.”
“Rather realistic for a Cabbalist, isn’t she, John,” Satan said.
“Today, at least,” he said. “They have their unrealistic moments, though, such as their attempt to codify the supernatural. Using science.”
“Oh,” Satan said, and smiled. “Why didn’t you say so before? That’s not unrealistic, that’s necessary. Okay, you two, you’ve got yourself a trip to visit the Watchers. I have quite different interests than Lorenzi, and this is one of them. You’re right, Lara, we are going to be friends, if you and your – damn, you have a convoluted family – part-husband are willing to exchange theories and speculation.”
They all relaxed, even Grover. “That’s not going to be a problem at all,” Grover said. “Save for the part about the plane flight being too short.”
“We invited only you and the two Indigo,” Sorrow said. John, Satan, Reed, Grover and Lara stood twenty feet from the entrance to the Watcher’s village, on the narrow, dusty mountain path. Sorrow blocked the way.
John shook his head, sad about the expected opening. “If we are to get along in this jimjack, you must understand that I’m not your servant. I’m an independent power, with my own wants and desires.” Sorrow’s evil magic emanations brought tears to John’s eyes. Her aura felt like burning dust on his skin.
“Nevertheless. Your unwanted companions are Telepaths. One, who you call Bais, has clashed with us many times, and is an enemy. She is truly The Great Satan, more than you realize.”
Grover March and Lara Minor held back, arm in arm, watching the byplay in terror. One of the Watchers, Teacher by name, stood with them, telling them they had nothing to fear.
“You’ve gone after me,” Satan said. She wore her steel gray hair tied back in a tight, severe bun. The days-long trip up into these benighted mountains hadn’t done anything to improve her mood. “You failed. I never once struck back. Nor did I need to.” She smiled. “Besides, you’re stuck with me now. I’ve got your measure.”
“Wait,” John said, waving his arms at both women. “Calm down.” He looked Sorrow in the eye. “Am I your Father of Darkness? Now that you can see me in person, has your opinion changed?” They had followed Ken’s instructions to find the place, including flying in the
last five miles. Given the magical ambience of the Fallen Angels’ so-called home village, John wasn’t sure anything here was real. The place’s dry air made his sinuses ache.
He also doubted the dry air was real. Perhaps he had been hanging around Grover for too long. Half way around the world in a private jet listening to Satan, Grover and Lara spin their theories and conclude there wasn’t any native human magic, and the supernatural was likely all alien, had given him a case of skeptical hives.
“No.”
“Then you must listen to me and what I say.”
“In this matter there is no listening.”
“Fine,” John said, feigning exasperation at this load of postholes. “Let’s go.” He turned and got two steps before the sound of a magical catfight turned him around. Five more of the Fallen Angels had appeared, and they and Sorrow yelled at each other. Silently, magically. John shook his head and waited for the inevitable.
Nearly ten minutes passed; Sorrow vanished about a third of the way through. Teacher led Grover and Lara off after that, saying the danger had passed. At the end, only one Fallen Angel remained, a short fat guy who resembled John more than he wanted to acknowledge.
“So,” John said.
“So indeed,” the Fallen Angel said. “Ken may have talked about me; we met.”
“Glad to meet you, Cunning,” John said, making the connection. “John.” He offered to shake Cunning’s hand. Cunning declined.
“You’ve upset my peers.”
“I plan on doing far more than upset,” John said. The complexity of Cunning’s magic daunted him, at least ten thousand separate spells. “Did you think that any of your prophesied saviors would be easy on you? Considering your history?”
Cunning sighed an overblown sigh. “I predicted your behavior, and my thanks for my prediction? I get to deal with you. My karma is revealed to be cursed.” He paused. “Your unwanted companions must allow themselves to be bound.”
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