The Tome of Bill (Book 8): The Last Coven

by Rick Gualtieri

  I considered this. “And Colin was the one pulling your strings, right?”

  “The well-dressed one? Yes.”

  I turned to Sheila. “Remember when Alex punted his ass through the wall?”

  She nodded. “Hard to forget. That must have been it.”

  It had to be. If there was one thing that could fuck up a dude’s concentration, it would be that. Still, why beat the shit out of Colin and risk him losing control of the Templar? Bernadette was right. They could’ve made for a hell of a nasty surprise against us.

  Sheila coughed. The smoke was definitely getting thicker. We needed to get moving again soon.

  “Once freed,” Bernadette continued, the act of telling the story seemingly making her feel better, “many of my brothers fell to despair. I ... I committed a sin so as to give them hope. I told them there was still a chance to save their immortal souls. I made them vow not to partake of any blood save that of Christ. It was all I could think to do to once more rally them to the cause.”

  “You told a lie to save them,” Sheila said. “I’m pretty sure any loving God would understand that.”

  “Except I was weak.” Bernadette’s tone again became desperate. “I could not stop myself. The pull was too strong. I fear the others, seeing me fallen, will soon follow.”

  “Can’t be helped,” I replied matter-of-factly.

  Both of them turned and looked at me, wide-eyed.

  “Not trying to be an insensitive prick. It’s just biology. If they don’t eventually feed, they’ll go crazy.”

  “Their faith will...”

  “Mean nothing if they’re starving and feral.”

  “How long do they have?” Sheila asked me.

  “They’ve gotta be hungry now,” I replied. “Hunting pokémages like this isn’t going to help them much either. Sorry to say, but that Lost Boys bullshit of not turning unless you feed is utter crap. It’s a matter of when, not if.”

  Bernadette dropped her gaze. “Then all hope is lost.”

  “You do realize that, up until recently, I had a job, a relatively normal life, all while being a vampire, right? It’s not the end of the world.”

  “For one who was already a sinner, perhaps,” she shot back. “For the faithful, I fear it will eat them apart from the inside until they become little more than demons given flesh.”

  Arguing with Bernadette was about as fruitful as banging my head against a brick wall. I didn’t want to come across as a total dick, but the reality of the situation was that some of her people were probably going to be able to handle it just fine. The rest would most likely do what other vamps did: become total raging dicks. Unless the order of the Templar decided to really relax their membership standards, though, all of them would need to come to grips that their days in the clubhouse were over.

  My eyes met Sheila’s and I could see she was probably thinking the same thing, either that or “Why does this weirdo keep staring at me?”

  The thing was, this was neither the time nor place for an intervention to convince them that life goes on. And, the truth was, it was best to save that discussion until this was all over anyway. We needed them as proud warriors right now, not sad sacks wallowing in self-pity.

  For the duration of this ordeal, let them be Templar and let them do what they did best: destroy the forces of evil.

  BUSTING THOSE BUNKERS

  Bernadette didn’t like my plan, didn’t like giving her people hope where none existed, but she agreed anyway. The stakes were simply too high. We needed all the help we could get, and right now, the Templar could offer a lot more than they could as humans.

  That was good because there wasn’t time to debate it. The sound of tank engines had grown distant, but the smoke continued to thicken. Off in the distance, back the way we’d come, I could just make out wisps of flame. Alex had meant what he said.

  Vincent joined us right as we were about to break cover and move out. “Sister Bernadette!”

  “Yes, brother?”

  “The Magi. They’re on the move. We believe they’re retreating.”

  Not a second too soon, then. The mages weren’t stupid. They got greedy earlier, fell into a trap, and knew it.

  But maybe opportunity lay in the chaos, something that would allow us to rescue our friends.

  There’d been no sign of Sally or Tom. We could either keep combing the woods and hope we ran into them, or follow the mages who we knew were definitely holding Christy hostage. As much as I hated to play Sophie’s Choice with my friends, it seemed the logical course of action.

  Mind you, if the Magi idea of regrouping was to teleport a thousand miles away, we’d be fucked, but I had to hope that wasn’t the case. The mages who were out here had been using a lot of power. They probably wouldn’t be in much shape to zap anywhere. Hopefully, we had a shot.

  Problem was, we’d also be heading into Sasquatch territory to do so.

  Still, it was either that or turn around and slink back to Alex. Yeah, I’d sooner risk the Sasquatches. At least those fuckers knew how to uphold a truce, assuming they hadn’t figured out it was bullshit yet.

  Fuck that. One issue at a time. At this point, all of our plans had turned to total shit anyway.

  Maybe we’d have better luck winging it.

  * * *

  Earlier, I’d thought it best to split up and let Sheila draw the mages’ fire while I circled around and fucked up their shit. Hadn’t worked out so hot. Now, after discussing it with her, Bernadette, and Vincent, we decided on the opposite course of action – a close grouping.

  For starters, powerful as she was, Sheila was still the slowpoke in the group. Her powers were great for defense, but not so much for cross-country sprinting. I offered to carry her, but she gave me a withering glare in return that would’ve made Sally proud.

  The second line of reasoning was far more practical. Her powers messed with magic. Sure, if she flared up while we were all around her, we’d be toast, but even without her aura, she was essentially a black hole to the mages. They couldn’t scry her and their wards would fizzle in her presence. They’d need to spot her in the woods the old-fashioned way – a difficult prospect in a burning forest, at least so long as she didn’t ignite her powers like a road flare.

  From that perspective, we had the advantage. Yeah, there were potential glamours to deal with, but again, that took power; power that might be in short supply following an extended battle with a column of tanks.

  It was the best we had to work with.

  We had the Templar stow their robes for the time being – no point in them looking like Christmas ornaments among all the greenery. Then we took off in pursuit.

  Thankfully, it was hard to get lost in this forest. The wooded finger that had been shoved up Boston’s asshole was maybe a half mile wide. With a fire on our tail, that made it relatively easy to keep on the straight and narrow.

  Then there was scent. It was hard to sniff out the mages with all the smoke, but the residual reek of Feet was another thing entirely. All the smoke in the world couldn’t perfume their unwashed asses.

  Our course set, there was only one slight issue – what to do once we got there, wherever there was.

  Retreating Magi or not, there were bound to be a lot more of them than us.

  Even if I bit all the Templar and powered up – something I doubted they’d be too keen on letting me do – it was still going to be a cluster fuck of trying to dodge dozens of fireballs at once.

  On that, I had no answer.

  Even my old character Kelvin Lightblade would have been hard pressed with that one. He was good, but not that good.

  I would need to be better.

  * * *

  “Be careful,” I hissed as one of the Templar accidentally strayed into a ray of sunlight streaming in through the trees. Doofus had apparently forgotten that his days of sunbathing were over. Fortunately, he only got singed enough to give him a good reminder.

  “God no longer smiles upon
us,” Bernadette muttered to herself, because that was exactly what we needed to keep our morale high. Bunch of killjoys.

  At least the air was clearing up. We’d crossed over the Charles River, I think, at some point. The magical forest had torn the manmade bridges all to shit, but it left a swampy, but passable, crossing of interconnected roots, logs, and broken concrete. Whatever fire had been on our asses seemed to have been stopped there.

  Far more pressing, however, was how thin the coverage was starting to get. When Grulg had led us this way, it had been only a few steps removed from jungle. Now the trees appeared shrunken, withered. Soon enough, we were able to see the ruins of civilization through their branches.

  “Alexander’s doing?” Sheila asked.

  “No. Not unless he had a bunch of anti-druids in his employ or a shit-ton of weed block. It’s the Feet.”

  “How so?”

  “I think they’re pulling back, taking their magic with them.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Fuck no,” I replied with a laugh. “But if they’re holding to the peace, then it makes sense. This place, even on the outskirts of the city; they hate shit like this. They’re forest spirits, so they’re going to want to get back to where they belong.”

  “I thought you said they were allied with the witches now,” Bernadette said.

  “Yeah, I did. But, and don’t quote me on this, the Humbaba Accord, the treaty that kept the peace for thousands of years, is a pretty big deal to both sides. This alliance with the Magi strikes me as more a back alley deal than anything. If they’d joined the war under the Accord, they’d have to pull back, too.” Or so I assumed. Nevertheless, my nose seemed to support this. The reek of Bigfoot in the area was residual at best.

  “You thinking this Calibra person isn’t too big on the paperwork?” Sheila asked.

  “That’s the funny thing. All this time, her disguise was a by-the-book office drone. Hell, the first time I met her, she came across as so tight-assed, I figured she could crack walnuts between her cheeks. Now, though, I have a feeling she couldn’t care less about due process. The Feet do, however, and the Accord holds weight with them. Mind you, it’s a fair bet they’ll be cheering the Magi on from the sidelines.”

  “At least until they figure out it was all a sham.”

  “There is that,” I replied. “There is definitely that.”

  * * *

  “Looks like we’re in Bunker Hill,” one of the Templar said, pointing out an overgrown sign.

  “Awesome,” I replied. “If we’re gonna party, might as well level a historical landmark while we’re at it. What’s a few extra thousand lost karma points?”

  Sadly, I wasn’t joking. If shit was going to happen, it was going to be soon. With the air clearing and the stench of Squatch dissipating, I could pick out other scents up ahead – human or, more likely, close to human. I couldn’t really differentiate between mages and people like Gan could yet, but it seemed a safe guess. After all, who else would be hanging around? Far as I knew, every last living person in the immediate vicinity had been turned into a shrubbery by those ugly-ass apes.

  I glanced around and saw several noses twitching. The Templar were beginning to come to grips with their newfound abilities.

  “What on God’s green Earth could smell so foul?” one of them asked.

  “That would be Bigfoot,” I replied. “Be thankful. If you’re ever unlucky enough to take a good long whiff when they’re around, you’ll regret it. Trust me. For now, concentrate on moving beyond that. Filter out their scent, the trees, everything else, and focus on what lies beneath it all.”

  I could see many of the Templar closing their eyes and trying what I’d just said. It was almost enough to make me laugh. Me, perhaps one of the worst excuses for a vampire on the planet – at least according to Sally – mentoring the next generation. Oh yeah, these guys were doomed.

  “I smell ... something,” Vincent said. “People, maybe?”

  “Mages,” I replied. “Has to be.”

  “Do you think our friends, Kelly and the rest, are unharmed?”

  Friends? That was new. Go figure, a Templar with an open mind. “No idea.” We were still too far away, and there were enough scents on the wind to make it impossible for me to pick and choose. “But we’re going to find out. Unpack your cloaks. It’s time to raise some hell.”

  Perhaps a poor choice of words as, again, most of the Templar glared at me. I really needed to sit them down and discuss how vamp hierarchy worked. For now, though, I swallowed what little pride I had and turned to Bernadette. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

  She gave me a single sour nod, seemingly the only expression she was capable of. “Unpack the garments of your faith, my brothers. Hold them dear. God’s love may yet shine on us again through our deeds.”

  I was sorely tempted to point out her hypocrisy. I mean, I wasn’t a bad fella, but they’d never said inspirational shit like that to me. It was all spawn of Satan this and damned to Hell that. Well, fuck that shit. Sad to say, but you couldn’t buy your way into Heaven, at least not according to John Constantine.

  Now was not the time to kick these guys when they were down, though. There’d be plenty of time for that later.

  “Is it a good idea to do that?” Sheila asked, hooking a thumb at the Templar, all busy pulling their capes out of backpacks and bags.

  “Yep. You’ll notice I said out, not on,” I replied, smiling.

  “Not following.”

  “I may not be a military genius like Alex, but I watch a lot of movies.”

  * * *

  So far as I could tell, the mages had turned the Bunker Hill Monument itself into their personal base of operations. We didn’t even need to get close to figure it out. They’d put up one of those purplish energy domes around the entirety of Monument Square. The energy itself seemed to be flowing from the top down, so it was a good bet there was at least one mage, maybe more, up top. That was one mystery solved.

  Normally, the monument would give a pretty good view of the surrounding area. However, despite the forest beginning to thin out, it hadn’t fully given way yet. Another couple of hours and we’d probably be fucked, but for now, we had a chance, however small.

  I found myself actually longing for the Feet or the Jahabich. Dangerous as they were, they mostly needed to get up close and personal to tear your head off. The Magi were distance fighters, the artillery of the paranormal world. If we could close the gap, they were vulnerable in hand-to-hand combat, but getting close enough was the trick.

  Thankfully, I had years of gaming experience to fall back upon. Hell, wasn’t this just another wizard’s tower waiting to be stormed? Sure, we’d lost a lot of those battles thanks to Dave’s fondness for TPKs, but those losses had taught me a lot, and not just that my DM was an ass.

  Most importantly, it had given me the realization that all spell casters had at least one weakness, whether they were newbs or twentieth-level badasses: their egos.

  Sure, real life wasn’t a one-to-one correlation, but arrogance seemed almost a prerequisite for supernatural entities.

  The mages might’ve been full of themselves, but that didn’t mean they were necessarily idiots. Case in point, there were scouts in the woods beyond the perimeter of their defenses, as well as wards on every tree for dozens of yards.

  Thankfully, we had a moveable anti-magic field.

  With the Icon’s powers, aided by vampire senses, we were able to get the drop on the half dozen or so sorcerers who’d gotten unlucky enough to pull scout duty. As expected, strong in the Force they might be, but glass in the jaw they also were.

  Those taken care of, I had the Templar hang back so as to prepare. Sheila and I made a wide circuit around the square, well out of sight of the monument. The goal was simple – fizzle out enough wards to give our people safe paths to follow, but leave enough active that the Magi didn’t sense anything awry.

  We walked in silence, her fizzling while I used m
y claws to mark our passage for the others. I think we both realized that if we started talking, we might get caught up in it. This was neither the time nor place.

  Once that was all done, we met up with our allies again a few blocks away. The Templar said a prayer while we readied ourselves. Then it was time to move.

  The second Battle of Bunker Hill was about to begin – except this time, with the exception of one of our number, there were no whites in our eyes to be seen.

  RABBIT UP MY SLEEVE

  “Don’t think like a human anymore. Imagine you’re in the Matrix. Some of those old rules can be bent, and some can be broken.”

  I got the impression my instructional session was lost on nearly everyone present. Fuck it.

  “You’re vampires now. You’re faster and a lot stronger. You need to remember that and use it, because if you don’t, you’re fucked.”

  That wasn’t much better, but it was the best I could do on short notice.

  Besides, the Templar were trained warriors, whereas I was a former game programmer from Brooklyn. The irony of trying to tell them what to do wasn’t lost upon me.

  My pep talk finished, Bernadette dispatched her men into the forest. “God’s grace be with thee, Blessed One,” she said just before disappearing into the woods herself.

  “Good luck, Bernadette.” Sheila said, but the Templar was gone by the time she finished.

  “Once more unto the breach?” I asked.

  “Seems to be the story of our lives lately.”

  “Better than those boring exposition chapters.”

  She smiled at that. “Good luck.”

  “You too. I’d give you a hug but...” I looked down at myself.

  “Trust me, I get it.” She turned toward where the monument lay. “Bill, what if they’re not there? What if they’re...?”

  I put a hand on her shoulder. “I can’t believe I’m gonna say this to you, but have a little faith.”

  Now if I could only find a bit of that myself.