Homeward Bound (Journeyman Book 1)

by Golden Czermak

  Joey turned away, disheartened, while the faint sounds of a woman's scream rose in his ears…

  Adrienne?

  Gage raised his hands to cover his ears and tumbled end over end before facing into the endless pit of black. Silence arrived as a hint of gray flickered way ahead and he realized at last the bottom could be seen.

  However, he was approaching too quickly with no indication of slowing down. As the hard ground raced toward him, he held out his arms in an impotent attempt to brace himself before he struck. The impact was so great his entire body broke.

  As blood trickled from his mouth and eyes and his last few breaths escaped in coughs, Gage saw a hooded figure approaching, wielding a sickle in its ancient hand.

  It stopped before him and looked down through empty, sunken sockets. Extending a skeletal arm toward Gage’s arm, it snapped his hand clean off just below the wrist.

  Gage tried to scream, the loudest he ever had, but no sound came.

  The figure placed the end of the sickle against the frayed appendage and they shimmered, the sounds of Gage’s delayed scream echoing as the objects melded together. As the painful cries subsided, Gage watched motionless as Death raised his newly formed scythe above him and came down in one fell swoop.

  The gruesome and prophetic flashes subsided and he was left in the gloom with far too little breath. Lying in a heap on the floor he worked to build his capacity back up, eventually setting up on his knees.

  The weight of the world seemed to drag his shoulders down and he was drawn down to the thin, spiky chain and round bit of silver that threatened to turn his life upside down. There was a choice that needed to be made, right now.

  A large part of him wanted to ignore the problem at hand and just leave.

  You know, you could just forget about this tiny trinket here in this dark and dusty hole. Keli and the Noctis, they would all be none the wiser, still struggling to grasp power.

  But he continued to stare. The treasure glimmered even though no light was overhead.

  Yet, that’s still the problem, isn’t it Gage? Murder. Death. Kill. Repeat. You said it yourself, it's what demons do. It goes on and on and on, whether you leave this glorified piece of tin here or carry it out with you.

  But if you do take it, there’s a chance of fucking over the Noctis and their biggest plans, stopping them dead in their tracks.

  That brought a loose smile to his face.

  And who better to fuck them over than you?

  Now convinced, Gage brought the chain over his neck, the necklace coming to rest on the red rose in the center of his chest.

  The items seemed to get heavier, as if they were securing themselves in place. A slight buzz then came from them, penetrating his skin like a massage. It felt comforting yet mildly irritating.

  Empowered, he rose to his feet and gave the area a final once-over. What he thought were the most interesting items and notes had already been secured in the truck whilst the big prize sat firmly around his neck. He took a last whiff of the chalky air before turning, heading back to the ladder to climb out.

  As he took his first steps, deja vu fell upon him, then again as he took another. He continued on up, passing through the warded threshold.

  A low rumble rolled in the ground and shook the very foundations as the talisman floated away from his chest, coming to rest in mid air before his eyes.

  There it remained while he paused, spreading his arms for balance. “What the -”

  Without warning, vivid red spindles erupted from the center of the pendant, spinning high into the late afternoon sky. They coalesced, the clouds themselves groaning and cracking under the onslaught. Forks of intense lightning careened down and out across countless miles and everything that the violent bolts touched vaporized in bursts of shadow and flame.

  Then, in an instant, all was gone.

  “What the hell was that?” asked Gage, voice peppered with cumbersome gasps. “Getting a lil’ bit weirded out by the deadly laser beams that seems to shoot out of this thing at random!”

  “It was a signal,” said Madeline.

  Adrienne had returned to Gage’s side, helping him out of the doorway. She turned to Madeline. “To whom?” she asked.

  She sighed, her ghostly form especially grave. “My dear, to everyone.”

  KELI SAT ATOP A pillar at the highest point of Bennett Peak, looking out to the west. A hawk flew by, diving down toward the ground in pursuit of its prey. Darkness would arrive within a few hours, although she already felt as if the chill of the night air was on her skin.

  Agares was gone, the look on his bare and pained face hung in her waking thoughts. Even closing her eyes could not shield her from that vision. Another of the ancient Greats, a supreme demon of Hell, had been ended in an instant – this time by the hand of Dajjal, who was still trapped in the blistering fires and bound in eternal chains.

  How was that even possible? Never before had a demon been able to send an item to Earth from Hell, never mind control it.

  Doubt for her fate had entered into her once secure and confident mind. His powers were definitely growing and she began to question herself and her actions. Was she being too lax? Was she too lenient to the throngs? Was she blinded by her own arrogance?

  Regardless, she wanted to be like the hawk, now soaring away with a rabbit in its talons. Quick, efficient, and deadly.

  As she reflected and the claws of depression threatened to close on her, there was a distant roar like a great beast piercing the stillness. It was accompanied by a scarlet luster, her lengthening shadow indicating that the light was coming from the northeast and it was growing brighter. She turned and what she saw compelled her to rise.

  The sky was alight as a barrage of lightning came down to strike the mountaintops, plains, and anything in between. There, at the very center of the monstrous and sudden storm, was a vivid red column that penetrated the heavens. The Herald called out for all to see.

  “In Lucifer's name…” she said with her mouth open in awe.

  A stray bolt leaped from the distant and dark clouds, striking a forlorn gas station sitting along the desolate highway. The fuel was ignited and the place exploded in a burst of fire, smoke, and dirt. The debris rose high into the air before it rained down around the wreckage.

  The pillar stayed for a moment longer, then faded, the broken vestige of clouds the only evidence that something odd was ever there.

  That was it: the moment she had been waiting for. Instantly all her doubt was erased, or at least pushed back into the depths of her psyche where it would be harmless, for the time being.

  IN A LARGE CONFERENCE room on the uppermost floor of the New York offices, Marcus completed reciting his findings to the Council, tapping the thick stack of papers end first on the glossy tabletop.

  The window shades of the corner room had been drawn to keep out the blinding sunlight at this time of day. Around the arched mahogany table sat seven individuals. Five of them were there in person, seated in luxurious leather chairs and the other two were at remote locations, displayed on two-way mirrors that had been set in place of their empty seats.

  They all took to murmuring amongst themselves, voices raising high and low, all but relegating Marcus to the the status of a wallflower.

  “Excuse me,” he interrupted, following a throat clearing cough; protocols be damned during a time like this. “Do we call an Assembly for the matter at hand? What do you say to this?”

  The supernatural members of the Council stared back at him, unblinking. Tensions had certainly increased between the supernaturals of the world and humans in recent years, who some viewed as prideful. In a way they were right, such pride from a human archmage leading to the most devastating event in Journeyman history just five years earlier. As such, humans found themselves outnumbered in the current iteration of the Council.

  “This shouldn't be up for debate,” Marcus continued sternly, placing his own personal feelings aside but unable to shake the notio
n that he was still talking to the walls. “You've heard and even seen the evidence. We need to act…now.”

  “We shall be the judge of such things, Mr. Sheridan,” said Fenran pointedly, an elf from the rolling greens of Ireland. His high swept ears were tucked up beneath a brown cap and a pair of spindly elbows jutted out from Earthen robes, planted firmly on the table. The tips of his thin fingers rapped together annoyingly.

  Another voice came from across the table, somewhat tinny as it passed through the glass. “An Assembly of this magnitude hasn't been called since the days of the Incursion,” stated a haughty, beast-like creature with coarse burgundy hair. Behind his goat-like horns, snow fell over evergreen trees growing amongst high mountain peaks.

  “Yes, Tyrol” confirmed Drogir as he sat upright with membranous wings folded behind himself like a cape. “We mustn’t be hasty and cause a panic where none is warranted.”

  Marcus let go of his paperwork, simply stunned. Trying to calm himself by twisting the ear bar piercing in his left ear, he remained astonished by the hurdles being faced. “Panic? How about being well prepared; what more do you want?” he asked with desperation, pointing toward the conference room door behind him. “Would you have the Noctis march right up and knock on that very door, asking to come in?”

  “Don't be silly, Marcus,” urged the calming human voice of Jane Carter. Though stern in character and carrying a corresponding amount in appearance, she garnered a great deal of respect from her fellow Councilors and the Journeymen alike. She did not have time today for such an obvious pissing match, turning her attention to the naysayers. “He is right you know, despite your reluctance to believe it.”

  Fenran shot her a slow and deliberate stare down the bridge of his nose. If had been wearing glasses, he would've been peering pompously over the rims.

  “Agreed,” Councilor Timothy Randall chimed in, adding his support. Like Jane, he was one of the three humans on the Council, the last being Allete Popov, who was away for personal reasons in her native Bulgaria. In his late forties, Timothy was quite the gentlemen who respected the seat he held. The thought of using it for ill purposes or to let the power go to his head never crossed his mind. The very notion of it was offensive to him and he found himself disappointed by the others.

  “Of course you humans would be agreeable with each other’s views,” Fenran finally said.

  “You humans?” Jane repeated, taking offense. “Lest you forget Fenran that we are all on this Earth together and face the same enemy.”

  Fenran waved his hand dismissively in reply. “Humans,” he said conceitedly, “again pretending they know all in the matters of the worlds.”

  “If you both are finished, I was not. We have also received a communique from England,” Timothy resumed, “from one of our own no less: a Mr. Henry Abington.”

  “He was found wandering the streets of Grimsargh, alone,” cut in Quileth, a human-like creature with the features of a tiger. His saucer shaped eyes looked directly over to his gargoyle colleague before continuing. “You of all here should know that feeling, Drogir. From what we hear, he sustained grave injuries from his encounter with this self-proclaimed Noctis ‘leader’ as she calls herself. We should definitely bring him here after he has recuperated enough for travel and find out what he knows. In the meantime, we -”

  Quileth was interrupted by the deafening scream of klaxons and the strobing of alternating white and orange lights. Those seated in the room stood immediately, ready to listen to the upcoming announcement while the two that were offsite departed.

  They were not left waiting for long.

  “Alert!” came a voice over the intercoms. “Alert! Level Four anomaly detected.”

  Marcus smirked, making sure that Fenran saw him do so. “Well, there's your knock.”

  KELI HAD MADE HER way back into the caverns and was speaking to Ronove.

  “I think it's about we time paid Gage a visit,” Keli said confidently, suddenly pausing as if a great idea entered her thoughts. “But, I think we should stop by Durango on the way, for a little bit of housekeeping. This seems like the perfect opportunity for a certain Hell Knight to put his money where his ever-complaining mouth is.”

  Ronove raised his lips into an accursed smile before bowing his head in agreement, vanishing in a snap of air.

  BAILEY, EVANS, AND MILLER stood in front of the congregation of monsters, the last light of dusk creeping in through the gaps of the rough hewn walls. There were of course vampires present, hidden in the growing shadows, along with beast shifters, kappas, and even a rogue mountain troll.

  The floor was covered in dirt and a smattering of hay; the earthiness of the smell underscoring the importance of this world to those in attendance. Dim lanterns hung randomly around the different levels and from the loft, casting an inviting warmth around the interior.

  These vampires, proud and tall, were the leaders of an esteemed triad of Houses, rebels against demonkind and their rise to power.

  “Thank you all for coming,” the tallest of the three said. It was Bailey, dressed in casual clothes like the others, dirtied from lack of washing. “We know that times are not how they used to be.”

  “Yes,” added Miller. “Where things were once balanced, the scales have now tipped. Sadly, they've not done so in our favor. It has become far more dangerous for those of us who choose not to align with the demons. Far more… deadly.”

  The crowd rumbled in agreement; their ears and horns and hair all nodding.

  “So why run?” asked a kappa, water sloshing around awkwardly in the divot on its head. “Why not just join them?”

  Everyone got quiet and looked forward.

  The last of the three leaders stepped up as the other two parted to each side. Evans was the oldest of them all, having turned Miller and Bailey himself and as their original coven grew, he gave them an opportunity to lead their own. They had done so quite successfully.

  “Nothing is forcing you not to join them, river child. Any species or member thereof is free to do what they will in the times ahead – at their own risk or peril. However, it has been decided that all vampires will not bow or take direction from the demons. They are not even of this world and cannot, in our eyes, be trusted with the fate of it.”

  Many in the crowd agreed but some less so. Vampires would not bow or take orders yet seemed to give them quite well.

  Miller paced in front of the others, noting the mood. He wore a hopeful look on his face while he gestured with his fist. “There are more of us; groups just like this one forming and growing to combat this darkness.”

  It was an astounding sight made more so by the words being spoken. Foul creatures from every corner of the world referring to a threat that was darker than themselves. In this, they weren't that different from the Journeymen with their very way of life and existence in jeopardy.

  Miller continued, “They are the very concept of darkness incarnate. Do not be fooled by their words or ploys or promises. They will use you until your need is spent, then dispose of you like the trash they really think you are.”

  “We can all agree that the demons are untrustworthy, but what makes us trust you any more?” asked a voice from the crowd. He was a shifter, able to transform at will into the shape of any creature he had consumed.

  Bailey stepped up to answer. “You don't have any guarantees, other than our word. Plus, think of it this way: the demons use humans as hosts, parading around in them like some kind of suit.”

  The crowd chattered at the unsavoriness of the idea.

  “We feed on humans,” he continued, looking to the shifters. “Well, for the most part. I know some of you have an affinity for wild bears. But in any case, not only do demons want to exterminate us monsters, those of us that do fight them, or do nothing, or even join their ranks are going to be hit with the harsh reality of dwindling food supplies. To me that's hardly an ideal world to live in.”

  A passing glance scanned over the crowd and he could tell
by their expressions they were swayed by his words.

  “I am not going to lie to you: this will not be an easy fight,” Bailey admitted. “The demons have vast numbers on their side and each victory for us is just a single step on a very long road to victory.”

  The crowd was hushed except for the sounds of deep breathing.

  Then came the match…

  “Death!”

  “Yes!” Evans encouraged.

  That ignited the inferno…

  “DEATH TO THE DEMONS!”

  “That's it!” Evans shouted, raising his arms triumphantly amongst the chanting. “We will continue to fight… with every claw, every bite, every single damn breath! For as long as we do, they have not won and we will still be free!” Bailey and Miller joined him amongst the sounds of intense applause. Finally their efforts were paying off.

  A faint burst of noise like far of firecrackers barely rose over the chorus of cheers.

  Evans was concerned, thinking he had heard something out of the ordinary. He stepped forward. The barn doors flickered with a distant light.

  Another boom came up and over the boisterous crowd, much louder than the last one. The trio looked to each other, wondering if the sounds of screams were mixed in amongst the noise.

  The applause died down as the structure began to tremble, followed by yet another earsplitting roar.

  By now Evans and Bailey had reached the doors, peering through the warped gaps before flinging them open. Miller walked up behind them both and his mouth fell open as the other’s had already done, his fangs extending as he curled his lips into a snarl.

  There on the hill fronting the farmhouse stood an imposing figure, dressed in obsidian. The dark and menacing flames rose from the burning home and spread out like wings of shadow on each side of him.

  Baal had come.

  Damn you, demon, Miller thought, distressed. How did you even manage to breach the -

  Like a flash he looked to the sides of the barn, behind the tall copses of bushes and grass. His suspicions were immediately confirmed: the wards had been smashed in with a hatchet; their power negated. The guilty, rusted blade was still embedded in one of the protection sigils as if to mock their efforts.