The Curse Mandate (The Dark Choir Book 3)

by J. P. Sloan

  No, I truly didn’t. Part of me wanted to get this over with simply to ease my mind. But it was still a dick move, nonetheless.

  “What?” he whispered.

  “I’m sorry, but I need to do a scan on you.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not carrying a gun or anything. Dorian…”

  I pulled my hands back out of my pockets, the chain of the Gregori pendulum tight between the fingers of my right hand.

  “Again, I’m sorry about this,” I muttered. “Based on my recent judgment calls, this will probably end my relationship with you, but I have to check you for wardings.”

  “What does that even mean?” Julian asked, eyes twisted in confusion.

  “It means I have reason to believe you’re on the Presidium’s payroll. I know, it sounds like lunacy, and it probably is.”

  Turner chirped, “It definitely is.”

  “Shut up,” Julian and I barked in unison.

  I watched Julian as he looked down at my pendulum, then up to my face. His eyes were soft, defeated. He shook his head and lifted his hands.

  “I’m sorry you have to do this,” he muttered. “But I meant it. I’m not going to let you push me away. You need to satisfy this paranoia, go ahead. But you know me, Dorian. You’re as close to a brother as I’ve ever had. That’s a sentiment I’ve held onto for a while now.”

  My eyes stung as I stepped forward. This felt like a friendship-ending bullet that I was about to fire directly into Julian’s brain. I held my hand up, then pulled it back.

  “No,” I whispered. “This is totally stupid.”

  Julian urged, “Just do it. You’re going to cook on this until you do, so just do your magic, and then we can move on. Okay?”

  He was right. I was going to obsess on this until I knew for sure. Hell with it.

  I sniffled, then nodded. “Okay.”

  “Do I have to do anything?” Julian asked.

  “No, just hold still.”

  I held up the pendulum, lifting it toward Julian’s face. I didn’t get far.

  The pendulum snapped directly to his chest as if there were a magnet in his pocket and the pendulum was a car-sized hunk of iron.

  Turner made a grunting noise.

  As did Julian.

  I looked up into Julian’s eyes, which were wild with alarm.

  I held a breath, then asked, “What’s―what’s in your shirt, Julian?”

  He lowered his arms, then sighed.

  “Damn it.” He reached into his shirt and pulled out a chain. “This is what you’re looking for.”

  A tiny coin dangled from the chain around his neck. A gold coin.

  “What is it?” I prodded.

  Julian whispered, “They said you wouldn’t be able to find it. They said it was safe.”

  I took a step away. “Who? Who said?”

  Julian answered, “The Presidium. They said it tied some kind of energy line to their diviners. Something about added resonance, helping to keep an eye on you. They said you wouldn’t be able to detect it, though.”

  I held up my pendulum with tight fingers. “They didn’t plan on Gregori the Bastard.”

  “Oh,” Julian mumbled.

  I clamped my eyes shut and turned away. Fuck me, Annarose was right. She was absolutely right, and I was a complete moron.

  I growled, “God. Damn it. Julian!”

  “If it helps, it’s not what you think,” he offered.

  I spun around and thrust a finger into his face. “You shut up. You shut your damn mouth.”

  Julian moaned, “Dorian?”

  I trotted away, putting distance between him and me.

  Julian called out, “I’m not one of them!”

  I stood in silence.

  Julian continued, “They came during the election. After Sooner outed me.”

  I brushed a sleeve over the tears that had formed in my eyes, and cleared my throat. When I turned around, I found his face was flushed.

  “What?” I wheezed.

  “It wasn’t Sooner who leaked that story. It was them.”

  “That thing with the college student?”

  “It was them, the whole time. Someone visited me, told me who they were, and what they wanted. I knew enough of your world to understand that this was real. They were pissed at you, Dorian. Pissed that you were pushing Sullivan back into City Hall, when they wanted Sooner. They could control Sooner. They would’ve had a lackey in Baltimore. But you screwed that plan, and they were ready to take you out. I was their sacrificial lamb, I suppose.”

  I ran toward him and shoved him in the shoulders. “No! I never asked you to do that!”

  He caught his balance on the edge of the Crown Vic.

  Turner shifted to intervene, but we both gave him a stern glare.

  Julian said, “I know that. This isn’t about you asking for anything. This is me trying to keep a good man in the game. Just so you know, this wasn’t me trying to leverage anything.”

  I shook my head. “What did you tell them? What was your purpose?”

  “I just had to keep them apprised. They needed to know where you were, what you were investigating. Lately, they’ve been calling me a lot.”

  “So, all this wanting to be involved… it was just for the Presidium?”

  Julian dropped his head and took deep breaths. “It was for you, and it was for Sullivan. Don’t turn this into a martyr situation.”

  I turned away again.

  Julian said, “You should know, they actually do need you.”

  “Who?” I asked. “The Presidium?”

  “The Ipsissimus,” Julian replied. “He’s been blindsided by all of this.”

  I sneered. “You don’t say.”

  “I’ve been in political life ever since undergrad, Dorian. I know when a man has lost his grip on his own organization.”

  I rubbed my face, took a cleansing breath, and walked a wide arc around the front of Turner’s car. I calmed my thoughts enough to latch onto Julian’s words.

  “He’s going to lose more than his organization,” I said. “There’s an entire sect within the Presidium that’s been planning this move for a long, long time. It goes deep, Julian. And I’m not entirely sure these people are the ones who should lose.”

  “I understand that,” Julian muttered. “But the Ipsissimus is the one who’s holding the keys right now. So, we have to decide if he’s the one who should remain standing, or if this wiper sect should win. Either way,” he added, “I’m okay with the one you choose.”

  “Why is that?” I asked.

  With a ragged breath, he answered, “Because you’ve never led me wrong.”

  I shook my head with the faintest of smirks. “You’re such a kiss ass.”

  “That was a touch schmaltzy, wasn’t it?” Julian said.

  I pocketed the pendulum and stared at my feet for a moment. “Did they threaten you?”

  “They threatened everyone I knew. Including Sullivan.”

  I bit my lip. Annarose may have been right about the Presidium, too.

  Julian took another step forward. “I wouldn’t do anything to screw you over. Nothing they wanted from me would have hurt you. It was just… surveillance.”

  Perhaps he was right. Nothing about this was inherently evil. The Presidium kept tabs on everyone. That shouldn’t have surprised me. My anger settled more on Adrastos than Julian, and a pang of grief lanced through my gut.

  I sniffled. “This isn’t my first rodeo with these people. The more they know, the more dangerous they become.” I looked up at Julian. “But for what it’s worth, I believe you.”

  He blurted, “If I had any options―”

  “I get it,” I said with lifted hands. “I really do. Hell, I’m as much under their thumb as you are, at this point. We’re all just doing their dirty work.”

  Julian nodded thoughtfully.

  I swiveled toward Turner. “You got any last-minute confessions, Detective?”

  He looked up to the sky
for a second, then replied, “I own all of Manilow’s albums on vinyl.”

  “You’re clearly an agent of evil,” I said. “Come on. Let’s talk to this Brandon Carruthers.”

  he address proved to be a one-story office jutting from the side of a warehouse like a swollen tick. Ancient blinds shuttered the tall windows framing the aluminum siding, and the lights were off. The building looked empty, and there was no signage on or above the door.

  “Any doorbells?” I mused.

  Turner reached out and grabbed the door, pulling it open.

  “Ah,” I muttered.

  “After you, hot shot,” Turner announced.

  Julian asked, “Don’t we, like, need a warrant?”

  Turner answered, “It’s a commercial building, and it’s unlocked. We can enter, but we can’t search.”

  With a shrug, I stepped inside.

  The crackle of warding energies snapped across my face, and I held up a hand before the others stepped inside.

  “Hold it.”

  Julian whispered, “What is it?”

  “Oddly strong wardings on this threshold, especially for a commercial building. Definitely a practitioner here,” I said.

  “We kind of figured that, hadn’t we?” Julian replied.

  “I suppose so. But we’re at a disadvantage if we step inside.”

  “We’re not here to start a fight, though,” Julian posited. “Are we?”

  I replied, “I suppose that depends on Carruthers.”

  I proceeded into the office, mostly dark with only a little sunlight filtering in from between the cock-eyed blinds.

  Turner reached for a light switch and pawed it on. One single fluorescent fixture buzzed to life, spilling a notably insufficient amount of light into the room. Two old laminate desks stood side-by-side, ratty fabric-covered office chairs loitering behind. One file cabinet stood in the corner, covered in dust.

  “Hello?” I called.

  No response.

  “Looks abandoned,” Julian whispered. “Maybe they left the door unlocked a long time ago.”

  Turner grunted his agreement.

  I responded, “If this place was abandoned, the shieldings on that door wouldn’t be so strong.”

  “I couldn’t feel anything,” Julian said.

  “Energy palpation. It’s a basic skill, but you do have to train in it. I’ll get you up to speed one of these days.”

  Julian replied, “Seriously?”

  I grinned. “Hey, I lost my only student. Kind of got used to this whole teacher scene.”

  As I spoke, I recalled leading Ches through the daycare center in Gettysburg. Energy palpation. I really should have been feeling my way through this office instead of flapping my mouth. I extended my open palms as I calmed my thoughts.

  Waves upon waves of rolling energy swirled around my fingers, shifting to the left, and then to the right.

  Continually shifting, without pattern.

  “Shit,” I whispered.

  “What?” Julian asked.

  “I think we’re standing on a jinx, fellows.”

  Turner harrumphed, “I’ve been thinking that since I met the two of you.”

  I shot Turner a hard glance. “This isn’t a joke. I’m not talking about some bad luck or minor inconvenience. This is a fresh pocket of chaos.” I added as I reached further, “May even be forming as we speak.”

  Julian asked, “Should we leave? Is it dangerous?”

  “Yes and yes.”

  Turner sniffed. “Are either of you two smelling this, or is it just me?”

  “Smell what?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered. “Something hippie.”

  I shook my hands off and inhaled. Sure enough, the spicy tang of burning resin lingered over the stagnant air of the office.

  “Incense. There’s a working going on right now.”

  Julian gestured for the door. “Then, I’m back to the leaving?”

  Turner asked, “What’s that?”

  I followed his finger to the short hallway leading to a couple doors to back offices. The space beneath one of the doors flickered with movement.

  “Hello?” I called again. “Is someone in here?”

  Turner muttered, “If they ain’t answering, then they’re up to no good.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe they’re refusing to break focus.”

  “Should we go and break their focus for them?” Turner asked with a grin.

  I nodded. “If it keeps a jinx from breaking a piece of our asses off, I’m all for it.” I turned to Julian. “You can wait outside, if you like. Might get a little… weird.”

  He shook his head. “Hey, you want to be the teacher, then I’ll be your student. Not backing out now!”

  I stepped into the shadowed hallway. The smell of incense grew stronger. The lack of air conditioning kept the aroma stagnant in the back half of the building. The energy continued to swirl forward and backward, up and down.

  Turner reached for the doorknob with one hand as he unbuttoned his blazer with the other. The blazer fell open around his ample midsection, revealing a holstered gun strapped against his side.

  I gave Turner a nod, and he opened the door.

  It creaked against its hinge, the obnoxious sound winding down as the door finally reached the side wall.

  Julian whispered, “Really?”

  I peered inside the room, which was thick with palpable malevolence. I reached inside for the switch, but nothing happened when I flipped it.

  At the far end of the room, a lone candle sat on the floor. Just one candle. It seemed to be a simple white taper, hardly enough to fill the office with incense.

  “What’s that writing?” Julian asked, pointing over my shoulder.

  I squinted into the darkness and spotted some white script on the floor beside the candle. I gave the light switch another jiggle, with the same result as before.

  Turner pulled a penlight from his blazer pocket, and twisted it on before handing it to me.

  “Thanks,” I whispered.

  I swept the light into the room. It was utterly empty. Four bare walls. The beam of light sliced through wafts of smoke.

  The energy in the air pulsed as I took a step inside, aiming the light for the walls. I expected to find the “house script” of the Nombre D’or sketched onto the walls, but found no such thing. It was a clean room… absolutely empty.

  Except for the candle at the far wall.

  And the summoning circle in white chalk the beam of my penlight illuminated as I swiped it across the floor.

  I shot my arms out, catching both Julian and Turner as they leaned in to look into the room.

  “Watch it!”

  Turner looked down at the circle ringed in the glyphs of the Clavicula Solomona. “Oh, great. More Satan shit.”

  Julian asked, “Do you recognize that?”

  “Vaguely. I know what it is, at least. It’s a Goetic summoning circle.”

  “What does that mean?” Julian urged.

  “It means Carruthers is no dabbler. Stay here, and don’t touch anything.”

  I slipped sideways into the room, keeping my toes well away from the chalk on the floor. If this had been one of Zeno’s circles, I wouldn’t have been as delicate. But my limited experience with Goetia had taught me two important facts about the summoning of Solomonic devils. The first was that you had to lay every millimeter of your summoning construct in an exacting, precise manner, if you didn’t want the Dark Choir to reach through the void and rip your face off. The second thing my experience had taught me was to stay the hell away from Goetia.

  I panned the penlight over the scribing on the floor. It was large, nearly consuming the entire room. I found five more candles on the perimeter, extinguished, marking the points of a hexagram. Someone had extinguished these candles recently, judging by the smoky air. Yet they left the one burning. Had we surprised them? Did they rush to end the circle?

  By the thrumming, hungry pulse of the energ
y lashing out at my hand, I recognized that this circle was anything but dismissed.

  “There’s something by the candle,” Julian called in a throaty whisper.

  I aimed the penlight for the candle, and found an envelope set against the side. I stepped gingerly around the perimeter of the chalk work, pausing where the hexagram reached the wall. Holding my breath, I took a long step over the first corner of the hexagram and one of the extinguished candles, then again on the next. Only when my feet landed on clear ground beyond the chalk, did I exhale.

  I crouched down and inspected the envelope. Ink calligraphy swirled across the front, and as the electric beam of my light steadied the wavering illumination of the candle, I realized this wasn’t a rushed circle. We hadn’t barged in and halted this summoning. No, we’d been expected.

  “It’s addressed to me,” I called.

  “What?” Julian gasped.

  “Carruthers knew I was coming.”

  I squinted at the envelope, wrestling with the decision whether to take it or leave it be. With a good, solid reinforcement of my personal shielding, I reached out and took the envelope, making sure not to disturb the chalk just beyond.

  I held the penlight in my mouth and slid my finger inside the envelope, pulling it open. A tiny card inside bore similar calligraphy. I slid it out.

  The lettering, in strokes so graceful they seemed to mock me, spelled, Good luck…

  “Oh, fuck,” I muffled against the penlight.

  A rushing noise and a clattering sound erupted from across the room. Two smacks of fist against flesh, and both Turner and Julian stumbled forward into the room.

  I dropped the penlight into my hand and shone it at the door. I caught a glimpse, the barest peek at a figure looming in the hallway just outside the room. He was thin, wearing a hooded sweatshirt with the hood pulled up over his head.

  And that was all my eyes could register before the figure slammed shut the door to the room.

  Turner coughed and released a string of profanities as he moved to rush the door.

  “Don’t move!” I shouted, holding up both hands.

  Turner halted, his toes just outside the chalk circle.

  “Ease back, Detective!”

  He gave me a look, then slid his foot away from the perimeter of the chalk.

  I released a breath.

  “Dorian?” Julian moaned.