The Prince of Darkness (The Freelancers Book 3)

by Lee Isserow

  “Times like these,” Rafe said, as Ana took his hand and replenished the magick he expended with the mass mesmerising. “Don't you just wish you had a magick carpet. . .”

  The rug spun around theatrically and took a bow.

  “Quit showboating, Grandpa.”

  “Grandpa. . .?” Jules found himself asking, but there was no time for an explanation. They had a wellspring to sully. . .

  Chapter 39

  You're not going to like it

  The three fugitives held tight to the edges of the rug as they sat upon it and slowly rose from the ground of the alley. It was not graceful, and bulged down in the middle, buckling under their pooled weight.

  It lifted them above the buildings that had concealed them, then higher still, a solid vertical track upwards, not daring to move over the church until they knew there was no barrier in place.

  Rafe glanced over to Jules and gave him a nod. It was time to test the defences. He reached out for a shadow under a tree by the church, and tore it from the ground. The force sent it straight up, and it arced through the sky towards the far side of the building. Brickwork exploded into dust as it hit, cascading down along the wall of the church. There was no barrier, and their diversion appeared to have worked. Teams of barely visible operatives splintered across the grounds towards the site of the impact, assuming it to be an incursion.

  “Let's go,” Rafe grunted. His fingers went white as he squeezed the edge of the rug with all his might. He had never tried this before, but was certain that it was going to be a bumpy ride.

  The rug tore across the sky, whipped above the park with all its might, in an attempt to get to the uppermost level of turrets before any of the operatives looked in their direction. It came to a halt as soon as it arrived at the church, and the three of them fell over one another as soon as the frantic motion came to a sudden stop.

  “Real graceful landing. . .” Rafe grunted, his face plastered to the stone by Jules's chest.

  The rug lifted itself up on to two of its corners and lilted its entire body, as if to raise an eyebrow in Rafe's direction for not being more grateful.

  “The 'thank you' was implied,” he grumbled, as he dusted himself off and rose to his feet.

  Ana peeked over the side of the church down to the grounds below, the dancing light of the operatives' cloaking was still congregated around the impact on the other side of the building.

  “Looks like we're still good. . .”

  “For now,” Rafe sighed. “No way to tell what they have waiting for us inside.”

  “Only one way to find out.” Ana gestured to the door.

  Rafe threw a sigil over the handle to unlock it, and stepped inside. Ana was a little taken aback that he didn't hold it open in his usual gentlemanly fashion, but as he cautiously descended the staircase into the guts of the church, she figured he considered himself expendable. The guinea pig to walk head first into any traps, which left the two of them to save his arse. . . which was a position she was more than familiar with.

  Rafe enchanted their barely visible boots as they got closer to the ground level. The shoes were clicking and clacking on the wooden floorboards that were precariously drilled into the stone steps, the noise ricochetted around the staircase, and if left to sound out, would announce their arrival to anyone who might be too close to the door to the church itself.

  As he reached the bottom of the stairwell, he took a breath, and before he grabbed hold of the handle, threw out quick sigil. The middle finger of his right hand flew in front of his face, drew a clockwise circle, with first finger behind it. He made a fist with the casting fingers, and ran the other hand over his knuckles to seal it. A pressure started to build in his palm, the energy of the mesmerisation that was desperate to burst forth and complete its task. But he wasn't going to let it out, not yet.

  Rafe tugged the door, the hinges squealed at the effort they were put under, cried out louder than any of them would have liked. Jules threw some shadows over them to cushion the sound, but it was too little too late. Glimmers started to rush across the silent church, headed in their direction. There was no time to be subtle.

  The mesmerisation took out the first wave, stopped them dead in their tracks, the second wave ran straight into them and fell to the floor with barely any sound from their calamitous clumsiness. Ana cast ropes to bind their arms behind their backs, each of their fingers tied down to insure they couldn't cast to break free.

  Rafe pushed her back into the stairwell, as torrents of fire and water came for them from nowhere, and slammed the door just in time for the elements to meet on the surface of the old wood.

  “What can you see?” he asked Jules, whose irises were already a solid black, as he watched their adversaries through the shadows in the church.

  “Sixteen of them still standing.”

  “Can you deal with them?”

  “Already on it,” Jules huffed as he raised his hands, and took control of the darkness from under the pews. He watched as tentacles of shadows thrashed around the room and took hold of each of the operatives. Most were subdued instantly, but a few put up a fight.

  A smell distracted him from the task at hand, an involuntary gagging, lungs begging for air, hacking and coughing as they were filled with smoke. He returned his vision to the stairwell and looked around. It was filled with a thick smog, Ana and Rafe unconscious on the floor. A growl rumbled through his lips, and he clogged his nose and mouth with shadows, took hold of the two of them, and flipped realms.

  The scant smoke that came with them dissipated swiftly, and he used the darkness of his realm to exorcise the smoke from their lungs, and perform CPR. The two of them coughed and gasped for breath as they woke with a start.

  “What was that?” Ana asked, her voice hoarse.

  “They've got a smoke adept.” Rafe hacked over the words, each one hurt his raw throat as he forced it out.

  “Only four left standing,” Jules muttered, an eye on the figures move through the shadows. “One has goggles.”

  “Any way to tell which realm they can see into?” Ana asked. She realised it was probably a stupid question, as Jules walked through the shadow-wall into the church, and blast of light came for him. He ducked it and fled back through the wall to join the others.

  “Safe to say it's this one. . .” he gasped, as he tried to catch his breath.

  “Well, guess we better take another flip,” Ana said, as she grabbed the two of them and fell backwards into the Mirror Realm.

  They turned head over heels as the darkness gave way to glistening reflections, every surface of the stairwell reinterpreted as glimmering glass.

  “Careful not to cut yourself,“ she mused as she tugged the door open.

  The representations of the remaining four operatives had begun to check on their teammates, undoing their bindings and were making attempts to bring them out of their mesmerisations.

  “Fight or flight?” she asked, fingers already pirouetting to cast.

  “Flight. They'll have called in backup from outside. Need to get this done before they get here.” Rafe turned to Jules. “You know where we're heading?”

  He nodded and led the way across the church to the organ that sat behind the pulpit and tried to walk through it―but found that it was solid.

  “We should be able to walk through here. . .”

  “Is it a realm thing?” Ana asked.

  “Barrier,” Rafe said, as he ran his fingers over the solid surface.

  “Any way through it?”

  “It's souped up. . . most barriers are only present in the Natural World.”

  “There's got to be a way through. . .” Jules said, as he kicked at the invisible wall. “We're so close, this can't stop here, we can't. . . I can't lose them, not because of―”

  “I've got a solution,” Rafe said, and he expelled a long, slow sigh. “But you're not going to like it. . .”

  Chapter 40

  The grander scheme

&nb
sp; Jules stepped through the portal into the Shadow Realm, and a shiver shot across his entire body. Three was stood right in front of him, a smile on each of their faces, as if they had been waiting for him to arrive.

  “Hello again Jules Nicholls,” the first head said.

  “The time has come for our assistance, has it not?”

  Jules nodded. He didn't know why Three was so willing to help, and given how desperate the situation was, he decided it was better not to question it.

  The three of them began to chant. He could feel the energy that radiated from them, and found himself step back from it, as if his subconscious didn't want to get too close.

  “It is done,” said the third head.

  “Thank you,” Jules said, before he communicated over to Ana to get flipped back to the Mirror Realm.

  “There is no need for thanks, we are only playing our part in the grander scheme,” Three said as Jules found himself turned head over heels.

  Whilst he was thrown through the realms, a voice stuck in his head, a caution that moved with him through the ether between realities.

  “Be sure to retain your humility as your journey concludes. . . It will please your maker to know that you are humble.”

  Chapter 40

  Running out of time

  Jules felt sick to his gut, and fell to his knees as he arrived back in the Mirror Realm. He began to dry heave uncontrollably as his stomach settled.

  “We're running out of time,” Rafe said, indicating to the troops that were making their way through the doors of the church and taking up positions around them.

  He helped Jules back up to his feet and the three of them walked straight through the side of the glass organ, and discovered a stairwell hidden behind it.

  “How was Three taking this whole thing?” he asked.

  Jules took a moment to respond. A part of him wanted to be honest, to tell Rafe and Ana of the not so subtle prophecy that had been left with him. . . that he had taken to mean that the only way he could save those he loved was with his own life in trade. But he knew he could not tell them that, there was no way to discern how they would react. They might seek to find another solution, and he was done with trying to fight the abductors' wishes.

  “Surprisingly well,” he muttered.

  “Sounds like Three,” Rafe scoffed. “Always mysterious as hell, and too all-knowing and cryptic for their own good.”

  The stairwell opened out at the bottom, which led to a long stone corridor with engravings from floor to ceiling. Boxes had been carved in the rock, each with small holes at the centre and glyphs inscribed above them.

  “Safety deposit stones?” Ana asked.

  “Magick-organic lockers, enchanted so only the owner can open them.”

  “Like an ID and key isn't enough?” she sighed, and decided that she was a little bored of how magickians liked to overcomplicate things.

  “ID can be forged, keys can be stolen,” Rafe replied.

  As much as she knew he was correct, she still didn't think anyone could own something that was so valuable that a regular safety deposit box wouldn't do the job.

  They stopped at the far end of the hallway, where a solid wall of stone stood in their way.

  “You got the sigil?” Rafe asked.

  Jules nodded, and traced out the symbol against the wall just as he had seen it cast in his mind's eye when the abductors told him how to enter the safe.

  The surface of the stone rippled out from the centre of the sigil, as water might when a pebble hits the surface

  “Step back,” he instructed.

  The ripple hit the walls, and bounced back on itself, returned to the centre of the sigil, where the stone buckled in and turned into a crack in the wall that reached from floor to ceiling. The entire wall began to move, swung out from the centre, grated against the ground beneath their feet. It came to a stop as it hit the walls of the corridor, and the three of them stepped towards the new wall that had been revealed beneath. A giant stone dial, surrounded by other dials and gears, with glyphs etched across their surfaces.

  “Either of you guys qualified safe crackers?” Ana asked.

  Jules responded by reaching for the shadows between the grooves of the dials, and penetrated the labyrinth of mechanisms on the inside of the great wheels. He narrowed his black eyes as he attempted to find the pins that one might expect in a safe.

  But there were none.

  “They didn't give you the combination?” Rafe asked, as Jules's eyes returned to their natural emerald shine. He shook his head.

  “Hate to ask a stupid question,” Ana said, “but is this the type of safe that destroys everything inside if you don't get the right combination?”

  Rafe looked over the glyphs carved in the uneven stone and shook his head. “They're not going to risk destroying a wellspring.”

  “Good,” she said, and she threw a hand towards the great wheel. A crack in reality branched out from its centre, fractures crawled across the bare rock. Another crack rang out and the stone shifted in place, the slim chasms along its surface became wider. She grit her teeth and threw another hand in the direction of the wall. One final, massive crack rang out along the hallway, as the entire safe mechanism fell out of the wall in pieces. Debris cascaded to the floor, to reveal a dark chasm beyond, and the wellspring at the centre.

  “You're welcome.”

  “That was stupid,” Rafe grunted. “We have no idea what could have―”

  “I said, you're welcome.” She squinted at him until he was forced to concede that it didn't matter what could have happened, he should just be grateful for what did happen.

  “Thank you,” he muttered, as Jules led the way towards the wellspring.

  He pulled the coin from his pocket and brought it to his lips, whispered the words it needed to hear. But before he could finish, he found himself lifted from his feet and flung into the wet rock of the cavern's walls. Ana and Rafe sent after him. The three held hard against the stone, fingers spread wide to prevent casting.

  Scant glimmers of light shimmied towards them, two figures stepped into the light that came from the opening Ana had made in the wall. The enchantments to their tactical gear dissipated at their command.

  Shana glanced at the three of them in turn, her expression skirted the line between empathy and betrayal.

  “Long time no speak,” said the other figure, a tall, slender brunette with her head shaved to just a few millimetres from her scalp. “I'd say don't move, but obviously that's redundant at this point. . .”

  Chapter 42

  Prison of darkness and blood

  “Raven?” Rafe glowered, as he recognised their captor

  “Oh, you're here too?” she chuckled. “I was talking to my old friend here. . .”

  “Didn't I save your ass that one time?” Jules grunted. “Got you your magicks back after you were drained?”

  “Did you? So much has happened since our last jaunt, it's hard to recall. . .”

  “You don't know what you're doing!” Ana shouted. “We're doing this to save his kid, to save his husband!”

  “Everyone has a reason for doing dumb things, little girl,” Raven grunted. “You might not have heard, but the fate of the world is in the balance, and that trumps kidnapping just a little bit...”

  Ana glared at the woman's apparent lack of empathy, but she was completely ignored, the operative turned and made a call for reinforcements to take the three of them in. Shana waited for her to get out of earshot before leaned in to Jules.

  “Why didn't you tell me?” she asked in a hushed tone. “I could have helped, I could have got―

  “You could have got his family killed,” Rafe growled. “The abductors didn't want the Circle anywhere near this, so you had to be cut out. Whoever they are, they're smart enough to relay a call to a remote location, they're keeping tabs on our boy here, have an eye everywhere. They know what he's up to, who he's talking to, what he's saying.”

  “It
was bad enough I had to involve these two,” Jules added.

  “I. . .” Shana grappled for the words. “I could have kept them off your scent.”

  “Not at this point, when there's only one wellspring left in town. It was obvious where we was headed, probably obvious when we'd have to hit it to complete the ritual. There was nothing you could have done, so I kept you the hell out of it.”

  A muffled shout rang out behind Shana, as Raven found herself wrapped in the rug, whilst the walking stick thrashed her on the back of her head until she stopped struggling and appeared to pass out.

  “Did you really have to hit her?” Rafe sighed.

  The stick bobbed its handle up down, as if to shrug.

  “You've got to stop watching those violent movies. . . Now get us out of here.”

  “I can't,” Shana said, “They'll know it was me―”

  The three captives fell from the walls, and landed on the floor in various states of disarray.

  Shana turned to the walking stick, which returned to an upright position after having cast to release them with its base.

  “It can cast?!” she squealed in surprise, as Jules stepped past her and put the coin to his lips.

  “Yeah,” Rafe muttered. “He also knows how to make popcorn, not that he can eat it. . . You have no idea how much popcorn I throw out every bloody week.”

  “How can an enchanted object cast? That should not be impossible!”

  “He wasn't always a walking stick. . .”

  Ana threw a mesmerisation at Shana, with a muted “Sorry. . .” then turned to Rafe with a glare. “When this is all done, you and me are going to have a conversation.”

  “Is it going to be one in which you suggest what I do with all the popcorn Sticky makes?”

  “You can't just drop something cryptic thing like 'he wasn't always a stick' and expect me to just let that slide!”