“How do you know of it?”
“I am over a thousand years old Mila, there isn't much I don’t know,” he answered.
“Solon, the spinal tap involves --”
“Sex. Yes I know. A chemical marriage which binds two souls. But I do not have a soul, there is nothing to be bound,” he said. “I am only asking you because you are the head of this order and the most adept to reconstruct that which has been destroyed in me,” he added.
Mila knew he was right but looked down at her wedding ring. “Solon, my husband will know. I’m sure he already knows,” she said tearing up.
Sure enough, Cesare sat at the Round Table as the other Knights talked amongst themselves about the witch burnings and recent skirmishes. He felt himself becoming highly aroused. Mila cut it out, he said to himself, as he had a hard time fighting the feeling.
He texted Mila and began flipping through nude photos of her, laughing to himself. Adonis got everyone’s attention and they watched the horny Knight contemplate how his night with Mila was going to pan out.
“Yeah. And Cesare likes to rub his bean at night thinking of Solon’s cock,” Adonis said out loud, but Cesare paid him no attention.
D’Artagnan threw a towel at him, covering his phone.
“Stop bitch!” he said, irritated that he ruined a moment.
“Where the fuck did you get off to?” Adonis asked, pointing at his head. Cesare wondered as well.
I’ll be there soon, he texted Mila, but she couldn’t respond to him. She could hear her phone going off, recognizing the ringtone as Cesare’s.
“Solon, I need you to leave.”
“But you don’t want me to. You want to help me.”
“He will know. I can’t lose him,” she pleaded; afraid of the consequences.
“No, he won’t. It will be our little secret,” he said standing, showing the length of his body. She looked upon him and wanted him, just as much as he wanted her. She didn’t know why her desire for him was so strong, yet she couldn’t fight it.
“I only need you for a couple of hours. Then you can forget it ever happened. How long will he be gone?”
“He has the shift tonight at the temple. But that won’t stop him from coming here if he senses something wrong,” she replied. Solon walked up to her, waiting for her to acknowledge the decision she had already made in her head.
“Come on,” she said motioning him to follow her. She pulled back a rug revealing a large pentacle on the floor.
Mila set up the ritual and instructed him to sit in the center. She sighed.
What are you doing Mila? she asked herself, as she dimmed the lights; feeling as though she had lost control.
“Mila, relax. Do what thou wilt. It’s just you and I,” he said as he began to stroke his hardened cock.
“Solon, I -”
“Shh, just close your eyes.”
He grabbed her, placed his hand between her thighs and let his fingers play in her moist garden. She moaned as his fingers went deep.
“Solon, stop it,” she said under a whisper.
“Shut the fuck up,” he said picking her up; laying her on the pentacle. He put her legs over his shoulders, and thrust inside of her hard. He allowed her energy to fill him, but the pleasure he felt from her depth was almost unbearable.
Solon leaned his head back and closed his eyes as he once again felt alive. Their tongues met as they matched each other’s rhythm. She pulled back his head and sucked on his neck, beginning the energy transference for the ritual. The ecstasy brought tears to his eyes.
Mila took all of him but whispered Cesare as she came. Solon was devastated. He angrily slapped her, interrupting the ritual but she had fallen into a trance.
“Be mine Mila. Be all mine. Cesare doesn’t exist. It is only you and I in this world,” he whispered in her ear, furthering her trance. He stood over her, admiring the curves of her body and smiled as he caught a glimpse of the clock.
“Its time,” he said, extending his hand over the pentacle, inverting its spokes beneath her. He moved Mila’s arms to fit within the two top spokes and her closed her legs to fit within the spoke pointing south. He began to chant: “Visita Interiora Terrae Rectificando Invenies Occultum Lapidem,” and one by one those words encircled the pentacle; illuminating the dark room. Solon removed the Philosopher’s stone from around his neck and placed it on her abdomen.
“Hocest Corpus. And it has been broken. By this stone shall I make three that is one. Spiritus, Animus, Corpus,” he said, as he pulled two stones from the first stone. One was red, one blue and one green. Solon picked up the blue stone and swallowed it. Instantly, the symbols upon his skin began to activate. He continued his sexual bidding, beating her limp body until her aura was weakened; crushing the red stone.
Smiling triumphantly, Solon performed a concealment spell; levitating off the ground camouflaging his deeds and erasing the Alchemical pentacle. In his left hand he lit a flame which caused him to laugh hysterically as it did not burn. He quickly began to feel his power return, but suddenly paralyzed as a darkness entered through his spine. He fought it, but the grip was much stronger than he was.
Solon screamed in pain but it was short lived. He stood in silence, looking around the room as though it were foreign to him. Solon’s eyes moved to his hands and he did not recognize them. The invincibility he felt was incredible; his spirit flame was blazing, causing his fists to catch fire. Solon laughed as he tried to wave it away, but could not.
The flame was strong, and after several minutes his spirit pulled it back in. Solon looked down at Mila and hid her wounds behind a magical covering. Her stomach swollen as though it carried a child; filled with Solon's negative energy. He picked her up and lay her on the bed, kissing her as he fixed her hair.
“I will return to you my love. And I thank you for the gift of life,” he said taking his leave.
20
the last sacrifice
Cesare’s eyes became black as if he were summoning his Magia. “What the fuck?” he said to himself as he could feel some of what Mila felt. He quickly hopped up to go to her as his mind became flooded with the feeling that she, was with someone else. The overwhelming feeling of ecstasy quickly turned to pain as he began feeling like someone was punching him. Bruises appeared on his face, chest and arms and he didn't know why.
“Yo Ray. Da fuck happen?” D'Artagnan asked, as Cesare fell across the Round Table grabbing his chest as he felt something pull from him.
His flame would spark and explode all over his body. Like a torch thrown in water, his fire would sizzle out before it could gain enough power to manifest; causing excruciating pain.
“Hey bro! You alright?” Lance asked, as he attempted to help. Cesare began to shake and his eyes watered. Rufus ran over to him and placed his hand upon his head.
“Shit. Of all the times!” Rufus shouted.
“What is it?” Lance asked.
“Someone is taking his spirit fire,” Rufus said, using his own energy to calm him. Once Cesare regained some sense about himself, he looked around at the other Knights who were staring.
“How did this happen?” Lance asked.
“There is only one way it could,” Rufus said. Mila broke their soul bond, he thought to himself.
Caden was watching the screen when energy signs at the ancient cemetery at Vulcan’s Throne spiked.
“Whoa. That's heavy,” he said, as he pulled the event upon the screen.
“Some sort of ritual is going on. It may be sheeple trying to summon something Rex. Let me go. I haven’t seen any action all week,” Caden pleaded.
“No. I’ll go. I need to go sit in the volcano. My energy is low,” Cesare said, barely able to stand.
“I go wit chu. Last time dere be nothing but ashes. We be quick about it,” D’Artagnan said.
“Alright. Just look. Don’t engage. Especially with your energy low Borgia,” Rufus ordered.
They made it to the Cemetery which was erected into the mountain
side by the ancient ancestors of the Red Dawn. Its energy levels were still very high as the volcano fed the vortex around it.
The smell of burning flesh once again caused D’Artagnan to frown. Cesare used the last of his energy to fly to the top of the volcano and walk upon the lava pits. The liquid fire began to recharge his own, but there was something amiss. Mila? he said to himself, as his mind pondered.
He couldn’t feel her presence and it instantly caused him alarm. D’Artagnan remained on look out until Cesare descended.
“You good?”
“No. I can’t feel Mila,” he said, shaking his head.
“Shit man! Dats no good. Let’s go check on her,” he said, as a heavy energy encircled them. Cesare and D'Artagnan stood shoulder to shoulder as the dark mist fell upon the mountainside. D'Artagnan pulled out his two daggers as his senses went into overdrive.
“Ray. Look at de bones,” he said pointing to a pile near the cave entrance. Cesare kicked the bones uncovering a few burnt skulls.“Human. At least six,” he said.
D'Artagnan jumped as the sound of flapping feathers diverted his attention.
“Easy Breezy,” Cesare said, telling him to lower his blades.
“We are Black Knights of the Order of Magia Chaotica. I command that which hides in the darkness to present itself! And if you don't, I will find you by the end of my blade,” Cesare said in a strong tone.
“No man. Whatcha doing?” D'Artagnan whispered to Cesare who stood unmoved.
“We are the bringers of light. We will blot out the darkness. We will destroy all that is evil,” a dark collective voice said, as a group of angels gathered around them.
“See! Dats dat shit I be talking about! You always gotta talk to shit!” D'Artagnan yelled as the angels presented themselves.
“What’s wrong wit dem? Dees angels are strange,” D'Artagnan said as a group of sheeple ran up the hill.
“These are no angels my friend, they are Egregors. Thought forms,” Cesare said.
“Oh praise Heaven! We did it guys! We called the angels down!” a woman shouted. Cesare's face was one of pure hatred.
“You stupid sheeple! Who the hell is teaching you magic!?” he shouted.
The sheeple gathered around in a circle as one man began drawing angelic sigils upon the rock.
“We call upon you Gabriel. The flaming sword of heaven. To rid the Earth of the sin and evil therein. To bring about peace, a new world which God had intended for man to live,” they began to chant collectively.
“Stop it! Whatcha doing?!” D'Artagnan shouted.
“Angels! Kill them! They are evil sorcerers and that is not of God!” a woman ordered. Cesare took out his blades as the Egregors began to surround them.
“I have heard it’s impossible to kill an Egregor. The fact that you’re basically a projection of someone's imagination. I would like to test that theory,” Cesare said.
“Why?! Why? Da fuck do you care if dey die?! Dey already dead mon!” D'Artagnan shouted.
The Egregors scattered looking as a swarm of pigeons, encircling the two Knights, tearing into their skin with their talons. D'Artagnan took a deep breath and began to blow a strong wind, and with his hands caused it to spin around him and Cesare; pushing the pigeons back.
Cesare summoned his fire and pushed it into D'Artagnan's wind storm. The pigeons shrieked as they caught fire and began to burst into feathery explosions all about them.
“They are killing our angels!” a woman shouted, as the others continued to chant. Cesare walked down, grabbing her by the hair; she kicked and screamed.
“Do you really want to see Heaven?” he asked.
“Yes! For I am God's warrior!” she shouted as Cesare stabbed the woman through the chin with his angel blade. The other sheeple screamed as one man pulled out a gun.
D'Artagnan lifted his hand projecting his Magia to stop the bullets. Cesare stabbed the sheeple one by one as D'Artagnan broke the sigils. The man with the gun struggled to get free, but an angry Cesare grabbed him.
“Who the hell is teaching you this magic!?” he shouted.
“We just printed some stuff off the internet. Hornedgod.com,” the man shouted. Cesare sat him down and as he began to run, he threw his blade, not turning in his direction, piercing the man through the throat.
“They are learning this shit off the internet man,” Cesare said, wiping his blade clean.
Another group of sheeple came running up the hill chanting and shouting, the Knights looked at one another. Cesare summoned his fire and D'Artagnan combined it with his mini tornado once again. The sheeple went up in flames; in all fifteen lay dead at their hands. Cesare drew the veve of Baron La Croix on the ground and piled the remaining bodies up; setting them ablaze.
“There's fourteen, plus one extra. I'll get you the last two in a bit,” he said quietly. Once D'Artagnan no longer felt their presence, he calmed the winds and Cesare pulled the fire back into him.
“Yeah mon!” D'Artagnan said fist bumping Cesare.
As they began to walk off, Cesare turned to the sound of a woman's voice calling to him.
“Who's there? Mila is that you?” he asked causing D'Artagnan to stare at him strangely.
“Oh. Someting not right,” he said tugging at Cesare who was falling into a trance.
“Cesare. Release me,” it said, pulling him to his knees. He summoned his fire and began punching into the ground as though digging for something.
“Whatcha doing?! Stop!” D'Artagnan shouted trying to pull him up. As he did, something came from the ground and forced its way into Cesare's chest.
“Shit! It be a demon!” he shouted as he tried to stop it from burrowing all the way in.
Once he had it in his hands, it scratched and clawed at D'Artagnan. He threw it to the ground and stomped on its head. Cesare coughed heavily, spitting up black liquid.
“You alright?”
Cesare grabbed his chest. It pained him but he grunted and nodded. “Let’s get back,” he said walking towards the car.
***
Solon walked down the hall of the Blue Palace enjoying his new sensation. Power. He smiled and laughed as he felt complete. The red silk of his robe turned white, as did his hair. His body filled with an intolerable heat which caused him to sweat.
The Alchemical sigils upon his chest began to move rapidly as his body began to emit fire. Solon began to laugh uncontrollably as he pulled it in and out of his body.
“Thank you for returning my powers Mila,” he said as he meditated, calming himself to control it.
He stopped at the front desk where Marissa Barron and a group of witches were headed towards the door after a quick visit with Valina. Solon smiled and licked his lips, staring silently.
“Can I help you?” she asked. Solon grabbed her hand, staring into her eyes causing her to swallow hard.
“And where might you be going?”
“Umm. Back home. Coven Orchid.”
“May I join?”
Two of the witches were up for the offer, as was Marissa who led the way. Coven Orchid was nestled outside of town atop a hill looking down at the city. It was a small coven, led by Marissa Barron, Matilda's only daughter. Twelve witches lived in the large cabin and each night the smell of burnt offerings in honor of their founder, Morgana, went up into the air.
A red truck stopped at the bottom of the hill and the headlights turned off. Messalla, who sat in the passenger’s seat looked over at The Man who had a cigar in his mouth.
“After this we're done. I'm done. You release mama and go about your way,” Messalla said as he cracked his knuckles.
“You don’t tell me what to do. You make these sacrifices and our work is done. I will release your mother,” The Man said laughing.
Messalla got out of the car and put his hood over his head. He ran up the hill and The Man followed him, slowly, waving his cauldron around. Whistling. Messalla looked through the window hesitant about going in, but could see The Man's jewelry refle
cting in the glass behind him.
“Eight, there are eight here,” he said to himself as he watched the witches walk back and forth in the house. Messalla gathered his bearings and walked through the door, causing the witches to turn in freight.
“Hello? We aren’t open for visitors at the moment. We're preparing for meditation,” a witch said. Messalla lifted his hand and he transmutated the necklace around her neck into a rope that began to squeeze.
“Alchemist! We have no quarrel with you! The Council will hear about this!” another witch said, pulling out her wand to defend herself. Messalla turned her wooden wand into a snake which wrapped itself around her arm; moving its way up to her neck.
He began to squeeze the life out of them causing the others to run. Their bodies began to shake and convulse as he bound them with rope and cords transmutated from their own clothing.
One by one, he placed them all upon a pyre outside the house. The Man sat his nganga on the ground and a light began to glow.
“Continue brave Knight. I have somewhere to be,” The Man said, blowing his smoke.
Messalla lit the women on fire. He stood silent as their screams ate at him like sulfuric acid. His eyes teared up, but he kept his composure. The Man's nganga began to spin around as it sucked their souls in one by one.
“Yes that's right. Come to papa,” The Man said as his cauldron began to swell.
“Well,” Messalla said, looking in the other direction.
“Well what?”
“My mother,” he said, turning around to face him. The momentary silence was broken by the crackling and sizzling of the witches' flesh.
“Oh yeah. About that. See the thing is, you sacrificed her life to become a Knight. The nganga cast your lot to be chosen as a Black Knight. And you accepted. There is no undoing a sacrifice such as that. You sold her for your power, and power you got. Be happy with that,” The Man said laughing.
“How else did you think an Alchemist's name was drawn for a seat at the Round Table? You bought it, that’s how,” The Man added.
Messalla was furious, breathing heavily as the sigils all over his body began to glow. He lifted his hands, looking around for anything that could become a weapon and The Man laughed.
Knights of Enmity: The Barons Have Fallen (Descending Fires Book 1) Page 26