by M. R. Forbes
"Sarah's hardly on her own," I replied. "Charis and Izak are with her. Besides, it would have taken forever to get them here. Did you know someone's been destroying the rifts?"
He rubbed his chin. "Hmmm... yes, well I suppose it makes sense. The Beast freed Abaddon. He doesn't care about how you're aligned, only if you make a tasty treat. I'm sure the demons want to keep him away as much as anyone else does. I expect more of the rifts will fall in a hurry." He shrugged it off, and his eyes brightened. "You did say Izak? Oh yes, I've been hearing rumors about that one. Is there any truth to them?"
"If you mean that he's a badass? Yes. That's why I know Sarah's in good hands."
His grin spread from ear to ear, and he turned to Adam, holding out his hand. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, mister..."
Adam looked at the fiend's hand, and then at me. Max pulled it back.
"Too much of a stretch, I suppose," he said. "No matter, my good man. One you've been through the torture of Hell, a little surliness is a walk in the park. No pun intended. Ha-ha."
"Max, you know why we're here," I said.
He reached up and put his arm around my shoulders. "I do, old chap. I'm prepared to lead you on this little adventure. First, I need you to do one thing."
"What's that?"
"Just say the words you know I want to hear." He put his face in mine, his huge grin too comical for me to be annoyed.
"Fine. You were right about the trap. I trust you."
He let me go and slapped me on the back. "Bully!" he cried. "Jolly good. Well then, off we go." He turned and started walking back up the path.
"Max," I said, trailing behind him. "Where are we going?"
He stopped again. "I should tell you that, shouldn't I? Very well, have you ever heard of the Nicht Creidim?"
I had no idea what he was talking about. "Nick Creedem? No, is he a demon, or an angel?"
"Ho-ho. Not Nick Creedem. The Nicht Creidim. I'll assume that since you can't pronounce it you don't know who I'm referring to. They're mortals. Awake mortals. A 'family' as it were. They're collectors of Divine artifacts. Anything that has Divine power, they want."
I had definitely never heard of them.
"Josette?"
I felt her presence illuminate my soul. "I have heard the word before, but I have never met them. Some think they are a myth. Others believe they exist, but they don't meddle much in the affairs of the Divine."
"They're vultures," Ulnyx said. "They hide in dark corners, and pick at the remains on the battlefields. They'll collect anything Divine - weapons, clothing, blood. Anything they can get before it wastes away."
"They're vultures," I said to Max. "My question is, why?"
"Why, what?" he replied.
"Why do they take Divine stuff? For what purpose?"
"Divine 'stuff' as you say, is very powerful stuff, especially for a mortal. They take it because they feel it can help them maintain the power and influence of the 'family', and perhaps one day even grow it. I wouldn't call them vultures. It was Nicht Creidim assassins who murdered the seraphs given the Canaan Blades. It took hundreds of years to find out where they were keeping the Redeemer, and now the Deliverer. It took the deaths of many to get the Redeemer back."
"What about the other blade, then?" I asked. "What about the Swords of Gehenna?"
He cast his eyes at Adam, hesitant about how much to say. "It is likely they have them as well, though we don't know where."
"You're a fiend. Can't you just Command them to tell you?"
He shook his head. "Ah, no, my good man. You see, the Nicht Creidim are an interesting lot. They tend towards inbreeding, with just enough breakage in the direct lineage to prevent the genetic deficiencies normally associated with such activity. The reason they do it is because it has allowed them to develop certain... resistances to the Divine. Most likely stemming from an initial contact with an artifact that gave the original progenitor some amount of immunization."
"Like someone who drank from the Holy Grail?" I asked. Wouldn't that be a pisser, if one of the original Templars had gone off and created his own cult?
"Precisely," he said. "They're a secretive lot, as you can imagine. They don't tend to fight the Divine unless threatened, so for the most part they stay under their radar."
"Not if they have the Canaan Blades," Adam said. "When First hears about this, she's going to be on them like a bee on a flower."
Max stopped walking and rounded on the seraph. "Landon, you naughty boy, you didn't tell me he was an Inquisitor." He got right up in Adam's face, his expression turning dark. "One, that was the least manly simile I could imagine. Two, you'll say nothing to Kassie about the Nicht Creidim and the Blades. You have no idea what trouble you would be causing by bringing your little S.W.A.T team down on them."
Adam backed up a step and raised his hands. "Whoa, no offense, little man," he said. "I'm just trying to do my job. You know, the Lord's work."
"The Lord's work does not include mass murder," he said.
"We won't kill them," Adam replied. "Not unless it is absolutely necessary."
Max started laughing. "Ha-ha! Now that is what I love about the seraphim. I'm talking about the mass murder of angels," he said. "Don't underestimate them because they're mortal. There is a reason they've held the Blades for over a thousand years."
Adam backed down, but he didn't look convinced.
"Guys," I said. "It doesn't matter right now. Nobody is going to be getting anything if the Beast has his way."
"Right you are," Max agreed.
"So, let's try this again. Where are we going?"
"Port of Osaka," Max said. "The Nicht Creidim own a shipping company. It makes it easier to move the artifacts around. I'll bring you as close as I can, but you have to go in alone."
"Go in alone?" I hadn't been expecting that.
"They're mortal, but they have a kind of Sight. They'll know if there are Divine headed their way, and they'll prepare a pretty nasty defense. So, old chap, you'll have to disguise yourself and try to talk your way in. Show them that fancy bracelet, and tell them you're looking to sell it. See if you can get them to show you around. I have it on good authority the Deliverer is in there. I just don't know where."
I looked at Malize's bracelet. I wasn't too keen on taking it off. "Where are you going to be?"
He clapped his hands. "Waiting nearby, of course."
"Fine," I said, taking a deep breath. "How do I recognize the sword?"
"Have you ever heard of Excalibur?" he asked.
King Arthur, the Knights of the Round Table. Who hadn't? "Of course."
"That's its stage name, so whatever you think Excalibur looks like, there you go. Just be sure not to use it until you're ready, or you're going to bring a lot of attention to yourself."
I did a double-take. "Wait. You're telling me the Deliverer is Excalibur? That Excalibur is real?"
He rolled his eyes and spread his hands. "Well, duh. Arthur was one of ours. So were his knights."
Unbelievable.
Max had a car, and we piled into it. It wasn't a long drive from Kyoto to the port, especially with the traffic subconsciously moving out of our way. Within thirty minutes we were pulling to a stop in a dirty, industrial part of town. Darkness was beginning to settle here, and there was a distinct quiet that had me on edge. I rubbed my hand absently on Malize's bracelet, hoping that it was doing what he had claimed it would. There was no sign of the Beast, but I was still getting a creepy feeling.
Max pointed ahead through the windshield. "Three buildings down, turn left. Walk until you hit the water, then turn right. Keep going until you see a long, low stone building with a blue roll-up door. That's it. Knock out S.O.S in Morse code, and they'll open up to check you out. Do you know Mr. Morse?"
I didn't, but Josette did. I nodded. "One question. Will they be able to see my eyes?" They would be a dead giveaway that I was more than human.
Max opened the glovebox and reached in, then handed me a pair of mi
rrored aviator sunglasses. "Just don't take them off," he advised.
It didn't seem like the best plan, but what else could we do? I pushed open the door and climbed out, making sure to focus, adjusting my signature to true neutral and vanishing from the Sight of anyone who had it. "You two lovebirds say out of trouble," I said. Neither looked pleased at being left with the other. I gently closed the door and started walking.
There wasn't much to it. I turned left where Max had instructed, until I got to the edge of the bay. I stopped when I reached the water, looking out at the ships in the harbor, and then at the glow of the rising moon, diffused by the light clouds. It took some doing to imagine all of it going away, under the Beast's destructive thumb. I wasn't going to let that happen.
"I've always loved the moon," Ulnyx said with a chuckle. "Do you know why weres are so often associated with howling at full moons? It's when the bitches get the most horny."
"Shut up," I said, ignoring his amusement.
The sound of my tapping Morse code on the blue door echoed in the emptiness of the late evening. No sooner had I finished the last rap than I heard a click, and the door moved, sliding up and out of view and revealing a face behind it.
"Who are you?" the girl asked. She was maybe eighteen or nineteen, with long black hair and a pale complexion. Her eyes were almond-shaped, and she had a pert little nose on a small face. She looked like a mix of Japanese with something more European.
I didn't give her a name, I just held up my arm and tapped on the bracelet. "I heard I could find someone who might be interested in a piece like this here."
Her expression didn't change, but she leaned in and looked at it. When she backed away, she was smiling. "You heard correct, Mr..."
"Smith," I said with a smile.
She gave me a small bow. "Of course. Follow me."
She led me into the open area of the warehouse. It was filled with shipping containers, crates, and boxes. Forklifts sat half-loaded, as though they had been abandoned as soon as it had hit closing time, and only the auxiliary lights were on. I scanned the area visually, but I didn't see anyone else in there.
"That's an interesting piece," she said as we walked. "How did you come by it?"
"I stole it," I said. "I'd heard there were buyers for stuff with this kind of etching on it. What is it, Japanese?"
She laughed, a cute little choppy chuckle. "Oh no, Mr. Smith. Not Japanese. Something much older." We reached the end of the warehouse, and she put her palm up to an electronic lock. It beeped, and she bent down to lift another door. Behind it was an elevator.
"Pretty cool kit," I said.
"We can never be too careful," she replied. "We deal in priceless antiquities that are highly desired by a number of parties. Not all of whom are willing to be above the table in working with us."
"I can imagine. You don't have a problem with the means by which I obtained this, do you?"
She turned and looked at it again. "Oh no. One man's loss, is another's gain. If they didn't want a professional such as yourself to take it, they should have been more careful."
I couldn't help but smile at that. "My sentiments exactly," I said.
The elevator descended fifty or sixty feet, and then opened up into an empty cement corridor that was about twenty feet long. The whole thing reminded me of how the Templars had positioned the Cave of Christ in order to keep it safe. I guess it was a common tactic.
She used her palm to open a huge iron door at the end of the hall, and we had to wait upwards of a minute for the machinery behind it to get it open. She stared at me the whole time.
"Can I help you with something else, Miss...?" I realized I hadn't gotten her name.
"Smith," she replied, with a wink and a smile. "To be honest, I was just admiring your physique."
I didn't know what to say. I wasn't glamoured, because they' d probably have seen right through it anyway. That meant it was just me, which in my opinion wasn't really that impressive. Thin build, a little bit of muscle, but a Hollywood idol I was not.
"Did I embarrass you?" she asked. "I promise I can make it up to you later, once your business with father is concluded."
The door finished its slide up into the ceiling, and she led me ahead, into a red carpeted hallway. Hanging from the walls on either side were display cases of thick, bulletproof glass. Inside of them were a whole mess of things. Arrowheads, daggers, chalices, clothes. It seemed they'd put the demonic stuff on one side, and the angelic stuff on the other.
"You don't look like you need any more of this stuff," I said, trying to get off the last topic. I have to admit, her giggle was really cute.
"We can never have enough, until we have it all," she replied. We reached the end of this corridor, stopping at a pair of heavily runed wooden doors. She used her palm one more time, and the doors swung inward.
It was like an underground palace. Glossy marble floors, a high ceiling with a fake skylight at top, and two decks of hallway connected by twin staircases. It reminded me of Rebecca's father's penthouse, except much, much grander. In the center of the room, glinting in the fake sunlight that was focused on it, was the hilt and last six inches of the blade of a sword. The rest of it was jammed into a large, smooth stone. I couldn't help but stare.
"Do you like it?" She asked me.
"It's incredible," I replied. "It reminds me of King Arthur's sword. Excalibur?"
She giggled again. "I have to go get father. Please wait here." She headed off to a door on the east side of the room.
"Just take it," Ulnyx said. "You can get out of here before she gets back."
"Don't be foolish, Were," Josette replied. "There is nothing natural about the light that's shining down on it. It's probably an alarm."
"I was thinking the same thing," I said. Still, I wasn't sure I would have much choice. I wasn't about the let the bracelet go, even on the off chance they would be willing to trade for it.
"Oh, what would that be?"
I hadn't meant to say it out loud. I turned east to where Ms. Smith was standing with an older man. He was a military type, with a white flat-top, a grizzled face, and a tough expression. He also looked like he could whip me six ways to Sunday.
"I've never seen anything like it." I walked over to him and held out my hand. He ignored it, his eyes going right to the bracelet.
"I've never seen anything like that," he said. His voice had a weird, constant hoarseness to it. Like he spent ninety percent of his time yelling. "Where'd you come across something like that?"
I didn't answer right away. I was still considering my options, and realizing I didn't have any. I took a deep breath, reached up, and took off the sunglasses. "An archangel gave it to me," I said, dropping my disguise and letting them See me if they could.
"Divver," Ms. Smith cried. Before I could blink, she had a dagger in her hand, and was crouching down, ready for a fight. Her father hadn't moved.
Divver? That was a new one.
"Interesting," he said, looking me over. "I've heard about you. I didn't think you'd be making an appearance though. It's Landon, right?"
I wasn't that surprised he knew who I was. You couldn't collect so many Divine artifacts without being pretty up on our day to day. "That's right," I said. "And you are?"
"Joe," he replied. "Father Joe to my family." His daughter was still crouched, ready to fight. He looked over at her. "I'll tell you what, Landon. You beat my girl in hand to hand, I won't call in the rest of the troops and I'll listen to whatever it is you came to say. I figure if you were here to fight, you would've gotten to it already."
It was more reasonable than I'd expected, based on what Max had told me. "F-"
Before I could finish speaking, she had launched herself at me with a speed that should have been impossible for a mortal. I got my hands up in time, crossing them over to block her downward strike with my forearms, then pushed back against her to break us up.
"Not bad," she said with a smile. She turned the knife ove
r in her hand, putting it against her arm, and came again.
I had enough time to focus now, and I slipped away from her attacks without too much difficulty, twisting and turning away from one slash after another, then a kick and a leg sweep. They wanted to test me, so I decided to test her.
"More than not bad," she said, her breathing a little heavier. "Do you do other things as well as you fight?"
I could only imagine what she meant. I felt a little rush of blood headed upwards. "You'll never know," I replied.
"Don't count me out so quickly." She came at me again, faster than before. I don't know how she did it, but even pulling on my power it was tough to keep ahead. It was time to stop fooling around. I went on a short offensive, returning her strikes with some of my own. I got one through to her chest, and with my enhanced strength and speed I thought it would be over, but she didn't even bat an eyelash.
I hesitated for just a second, trying to figure out why she hadn't gone flying away. Something on her had to be shutting me down. She took advantage of my confusion, bringing the dagger up and across my face, digging it deep into my cheek. I grunted and took a few steps back, ready to defend against her next blow.
It didn't come. She stood there, shocked that she had cut me? I glanced over at Joe. He had a curious expression. Then I realized they were waiting for me to die. The blade was enchanted after all. I hadn't gotten a good look at whether it was Cursed or Blessed. Either way, the wound healed.
"So it's true," Joe said. "Divine weapons can't hurt you."
"No, they can hurt me," I said. "They just can't kill me. Not unless you take my head off."
I shouldn't have said that. She crouched down and charged towards me again, somehow dialing her speed up another notch.
I moved away, looking for something to use as a weapon. My back smacked into the stone in the center of the room. Why not?
The light burned my hand as I reached in and grabbed the sword's hilt, pulling it out of the rock in one smooth motion. I shifted it to my other hand just in time to start deflecting dagger strikes, the burning causing more pain than I thought it should have. I could only imagine how Izak felt.
Ms. Smith sped up, I sped up. We both moved faster and faster, the two blades smacking against each other in an impossibly quick rhythm. Block, parry, dodge, strike. On and on it went, twirling around the room like some kind of sharp waltz. It was a work of art, I knew. A composition even Mozart would have been proud of.