“I pay homage to Shaftiel.” ■
The whip cracked against his back again. Solomon moved Matt’s head to kiss the tattooed dog on his shoulder. “This is the second kiss of obedience. Recite: I pledge my soul and service to the Sentinel of the Ways, the Hungry Guardian Who Watches the Three Ages, the Hound of Thorns, the One Who Waits, the One Who Comes First." Matt did. The whip cracked a third time and Solomon lifted Matt’s head so that the vampire kissed the mage on the lips. “This is the third kiss of obedience. Recite: I will obey his servant in this world. I am Bandog."
“I will obey his servant in this world. I am Bandog.” Solomon released him and turned to Blue. “Do you know how to show obedience?” .
The whippings and the lesson were repeated again, then a third time with Tolly. Tango wasn’t sure the mad vampire would go along with the ceremony, but he did. He almost seemed to enjoy the whipping. When all three vampires had been taught full obedience, Solomon returned to the platform. He looked down on the vampires again. “Obedient Bandog, know then the secrets of Shaftiel and the mysteries of obedience.” He gestured.
The cultists of the High Circle swiveled around. They had not moved throughout the whippings, but had remained staring up at the platform Solomon had vacated. Now they looked out across the room, at the outer circle, but not at the three unmasked vampires. Their words were almost like a chant.
“The Sentinel of the Ways,” they intoned, “crouches at the gates between the worlds. The Hungry Guardian Who Watches the Three Ages sees the glory that was, the patience that is, and the glory that will be again. The Hound of Thorns brings the chaos, misery and suffering that precedes his own dark masters — he is the One Who Waits and the One Who Comes First. We serve the Great Hound who is the servant of grea ter powers still.” The High Circle turned back toward Solomon. The mage picked up several dark items and held them aloft.
“The Bandog,” he said in a voice that rang off the black walls, “wear masks because Shaftiel’s servants are anonymous in his sight.” Disdainfully, he tossed three black masks down to the vampires, as if he were tossing large bones to small puppies. “The Bandog wear chains, to remind us of our servitude to the Great Hound, and of the Great Hound’s servitude to his masters.” Three glittering chains snaked through the air to the floor. “Don your masks and chains, Bandog, and take your place in the circle.” When they had, Solomon raised his left arm again and kissed his own. The entire outer circle of cultists followed suit.
But not the High Circle. As if by some prearranged signal, they cried out in unison, “The ranks of the Bandog are ever complete, but there are gaps in the strength of the High Circle. We should be sixteen, as the sixteen teeth of the Great Hound, but we are only eleven!”
Solomon nodded. “Death has taken four of the Great Hound’s teeth. Foul betrayal, -this very night, has weakened the Great Hound further.” A quiet murmur ran around the outer circle at the mention of betrayal. Tango could imagine that traitors would be dealt with harshly in a demon'Cult. Her own breath came sharply. The short man had commented that he hadn’t seen Miranda tonight. Tolly had said that the vampire was in danger. Could she be the traitor? Why would she betray her cult? “But we are fortunate,” Solomon was continuing, “that there are those worthy of elevation to the High Circle. The teeth of the Great Hound will be strong once more.” The mage stepped down to the lower tier of the platform again, but this time no farther. “Ian Tanner, come forward and be elevated.”
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
Scamped upon her tender feet,
Held her hands and squeezed their fruits Against her mouth to make her eat.
Tango froze for a moment. No. Why her? Why now? She didn’t know what she was supposed to do! Had Tolly known this was going to happen to Tanner? She swallowed. Every eye was on her. She had no choice. She paced forward, praying that no one — Jubilee, Matt or Solomon — would notice anything wrong with Dr. Tanner. At the edge of the platform, Solomon stepped back, giving her room to climb up. Hoping that was indeed what was expected, she did. He held out his wrist. She took it and kissed the tattooed chain. It was cool and eerily metallic under her lips, not like flesh at all. “I pay homage to Shaftiel,” she said, the words almost making her gag. She hoped she wasn’t swearing away her soul. She moved up to kiss Solomon’s shoulder. At least that was real, warm flesh, slightly spicy to her nose. “I pledge my soul and service to the Sentinel of the Ways, the Hungry Guardian Who Watches the Three Ages, the Hound of Thoms, the One Who Waits, the One Who Comes First.” She kissed him on the lips, realizing with a start that Solomon was slightly shorter than Tanner. It was a novelty to bend down to kiss someone. “I will obey his servant in this world. I am Bandog.”
“Not necessary...” Solomon murmured, his lips moving against hers. Tango’s heart thundered in panic, “...but good.” He pushed her back a bit and reached up to trace a finger across her mask. She felt the subtle warping of reality that was human magick at work. Tango suspected that her mask now had the gold symbols of the High Circle inscribed across it. “Learn the secret of the High Circle, Ian Tanner,” Solomon said aloud. He drew Tango closer to him. She found herself staring straight past his left ear, across the platform, and toward Jubilee Arthurs. The mercenary was watching her, but with no more curiosity in his eyes than might have been there for any new elevation. Tango concentrated on her breathing. “The Great Hound’s chain has been loosed,” Solomon whispered, his breath hot on her ear. “Take your place in the High Circle.”
Numbly, Tango did so, stepping between the activist and an older woman around to the side of the platform. All she thought about as Solomon continued the elevations was her breathing. In and out, in and out, and she might just get away with this. No one seemed to pay any attention to her, however. They had eyes only for the new members of the High Circle, eager to see whom Solomon would call. The second elevation, a Janice Rothman, received a nod of approval from the older woman to Tango’s right. The third, fourth and fifth elevations, however, caused a stir. In quick succession, Solomon called on Matthew Barrett, Anders Dahl and Adam Tolliver.
Matt, Blue and Tolly joined the High Circle, gold symbols gleaming on their newly acquired masks. Tolly giggled quietly. Many of the Bandog did not seem pleased that their newly initiated members should be elevated so quickly. Solomon ignored them, however, and returned to the upper tier of the platform. He looked down at the cultists, slowly turning so that his gaze swept around the entire gathering.
“Bandog!” he called out. “Shaftiel has a message for you!"
The murmur of the cultists in the outer circle behind Tango fell silent instantly. All Tango could see was Solomon’s impassioned face. “It’s a message that he wishes to deliver in his own voice, a message of inspiration. I know many of you are worried or frightened by the deaths that have struck the High Circle and by the murders that haunt Toronto. It isn’t your place to be worried or frightened — because you are Bandog. And because the deaths, and the murders, and the chaos all take place at Shaftiel’s command.” Solomon’s eyes shone darkly. “Shaftiel sought to deliver his message through a mouth of the High Circle, but none of the four hosts he sought for his voice would do. His power burned out their minds and they died. So he approached me, as he approached me in the beginning. And he spoke to me, telling me the conditions under which the Bandog might hear his voice safely.”
Solomon paused. The black room was so utterly silent that Tango wondered if Solomon wasn’t using some incredibly subtle magick to enhance his words. “Bandog, we are not strong enough to summon the Great Hound into this world in all of his power. We will not be strong enough to do so for many years. We must be patient, as the Great Hound is patient. But now, thanks to Shaftiel, we may summon his voice and hear his words. He has told me how. With the aid of the High Circle, that rite has already begun.” He smiled. “Listen, for these were the instructions that Shaftiel delivered to me:
“Make me a home, Solomon. Let chaos and misery reign and let
terror walk the streets. Make me a sacrifice of sixteen lives over eight days, and let horror such that all will tremble and a city live in fear flow from your sacrifices. On the eighth night, make the last sacrifice in a place of traveling and, if there is chaos to my liking in the streets, the Great Hound will howl to the Bandog in their own world, from the mouth of one of their own.” Solomon grinned like an animal.
“Tonight is the sixth night. Six sacrifices have been rendered to Shaftiel. Toronto wakes to fear and falls asleep with terror as a bedfellow. Chaos grows, and breeds more chaos. Tomorrow morning, Toronto shall find three more sacrifices rendered. The sixteenth life, the one that will summon the Great Hound’s voice, will be that of the traitor, Miranda Delara.”
The Bandog were silent for a moment longer —- then burst into enthusiastic applause, as some other group their age might have at the theater or the symphony. Solomon nodded his appreciation.
Behind her mask, Tango went pale with rage and horror. This was why Miranda and her pack had beaten innocent people to death? Had Riley been trying to prevent it? Was that why Solomon had kidnapped him? Her hands clenched in anger. She still wore her knife-ring, although on her smallest finger now. It was tempting to act now and kill the evil at its source. She could destroy the mage who would order the deaths of innocents....
It was too much like her old life.
She forced her hands flat and pushed away all thoughts of murder. If she did that, she would be no better than Solomon or Miranda. There were too many Bandog around. Even if she did manage to kill the mage, she might not get out. She certainly wouldn’t be able to rescue Riley. Or Miranda.
Tango shook her head, prompting a fleeting glance from the young activist beside her. She ignored him. Why should she rescue Miranda? The vampire had lied to her. She was Bandog. She had very likely, Tango realized, helped Jubilee escape last night. She might have been working to muddy Riley’s trail from the beginning. Tango owed her nothing. In spite of Tolly’s wishes, she would not rescue Miranda.
But why had Solomon just named her a traitor? Why were the other vampires being made Bandog, if one of the pack had betrayed the cult?
Solomon was speaking again. “The High Circle has been my instrument in this, the first part of the rite, but all of the Bandog must participate now. You who have sought favor from Shaftiel, promising soul and service to the Great Hound, must fulfill that promise. There are still three lives to be taken before the final sacrifice is made.”
Tango’s breath caught in shock. Solomon, of course, noticed nothing at all.
“Tomorrow, Bandog, you shall rest. Tomorrow night, when the sacrifices are made, you will know it. On the next day, the day of the summoning, you will act. Rouse your families, rouse your friends. Use any means at your disposal. Toronto must be angry, Bandog! It must be frightened! It must wake from its cold, mannered sleep and realize the horror in its midst! There must be chaos in the streets for the rite to succeed. At sunset, come to the place of traveling.” The ferocious, cruel grin came back. “We will conduct the last part of the rite in a place of traveling that is like Toronto itself — a place that is cool, mannered and unchanging, but that for one night the Bandog shall transform. We will conduct the rite in Union Station. At midnight the final sacrifice will be made and we shall bring the voice of the Great Hound into our world.”
Abruptly, Solomon slashed his hand through the air as if he were holding an invisible knife — and plunging it into the sacrifice of Miranda’s undead body. But the gesture was more than just drama. Tango could feel a pressure pushing against her mind, urging her personally toward the chaos that Solomon planned for Toronto. More human magick. She resisted, long years of controlling her own inner chaos coming into play. The Bandog, however, did not resist so easily. Instead of bursting into polite applause, this time they screamed wildly, raised their arms, shook their fists and stomped their feet. Playing along with them made Tango feel ill.
At the front of the platform, one of the High Circle cultists abruptly turned to face the outer circle and held out his arms. The outer circle cultists yelled with excitement. The High Circle cultist to the left of the first was raising his hands, and then the next, and the next. The motion was traveling around the circle away from Tango. She couldn’t see quite what was happening, but the yells of the outer circle grew louder and louder. The young activist turned. Tango turned.
Blood began to run from her outstretched hands as if she had washed in it.
She shuddered violently, remembering that last night of her old life. The sidhe’s gardens. The Bandog just shrieked for more.
“Tonight’s ritual,” Solomon shouted over the din, “shall not end here! Carry it home with you and return with it in two days’ time to Union Station. Live the ritual for two days! You are Bandog!”
“We are Bandog!”
Tango could no longer see Solomon, but she could see the excitement of the Bandog reflected in their jittery bodies. They were waiting for something. From behind and above her, Solomon said, “Then go.” The doors out of the chamber swung open. “Touch the bloodied hands of the High Circle, remember that you share in their deeds, and go for tonight.”
The High Circle stepped down from the platform onto the floor. The other Bandog rushed toward them, grasping at their hands, smearing the blood on their own fingers and palms. Tango saw the short man fighting to get to her and receive the gory blessing from the person he thought was Ian Tanner. Tango ignored him. In the frenzy, no one was going out the door. No one would be downstairs. She would be exposed for a moment, but this was her chance to find Riley.
And her chance to get away from the horror of the black room.
She moved as quickly as she dared. Threading her way through the eager Bandog wasn’t unlike threading her way through a crowd at Pan’s, though at Pan’s her staff T-shirt told people to get out of her way. Here, her High Circle mask drew people toward her. Deftly, she turned them toward other members of the High Circle. No one followed her down the stairs. The noise from above carried to the first floor, but there was no other sound in the house. Pulling off her mask and wiping her bloody hands on Ian Tanner’s jacket, she turned into the hall past the stairs.
Under the stairs and down, Tolly had said. The basement, obviously. She watched for a door or more stairs as she moved, hoping that whatever entrance there was hadn’t been concealed by Solomon’s magick. The only door under the stairs opened into a closet. Tango moved on, but there was nothing else. The hall ended in the kitchen of the old house, well past the stairs and at the back of the house. There was a door, probably a pantry, beside the entrance to the hall, but it wasn’t under the stairs. Unless... Tango flung the door open. The broad pantry was empty of food, but there was another door at its far end. And she could smell the damp air of a deep basement. She stepped into the pantry, closed the kitchen door behind her and opened the basement door. Worn steps led down into darkness, lit by bare lightbulbs. Tango descended.
Either the original foundation of the house had been unusually deep or the basement floor had been dug down. Tango suspected the latter. The dark old beams of the ceiling were well over her head. The floor was packed black dirt. Tango could see why. There was a tree growing in the basement.
It wasn’t a particularly large tree, though its uppermost branches spread out flat against the ceiling and its trunk was surprisingly broad. It was gnarled and grayish, from its bark to its leaves. A strange, sunny glow came from its far side, casting bright rays that must, to judge by the sharpness of the division between light and shadow, have been magical. Or more likely magickal, some effect of Solomon’s human magick. Tango wondered what kind of mage Solomon had been before he became a Nephandus. The Verbena Tradition of witch-mages venerated trees, though to trap one so unnaturally below the ground would have been like blasphemy to them. Perhaps Solomon was Verbena barabbi, a traitor to his Tradition. The time Tango spent wondering was very brief, however.
Lying halfway between the tree a
nd the stairs was Miranda.
Tango stared at her in shock. The vampire was pale and withered, as if virtually all of the stolen blood that flowed in her veins had been taken out again. Wounds and bite marks covered her arms and neck; the bite marks bore the clear signs of fangs. Solomon didn’t have fangs, of course, but Tango wondered where Matt and Blue had obtained the blood that they had sipped in the parlor. The smell of burning flesh hung faintly in the still air. Miranda’s right hand was charred and twisted — fire, or maybe the sunny light from the far side of the tree. Her face was frozen in agony, her eyes dead. A rough stake, fashioned from a broken branch of the tree, ran through her chest and pinned her to the ground.
Tango walked up to the vampire slowly and knelt to run her hand along the gray shaft of the stake. Sickly gray-green leaves still clung to it. A stake through the heart didn’t kill a vampire. It only paralyzed her. Miranda was helpless, but she had been kept alive. For Solomon’s sacrifice, presumably. Something had happened tonight. Something serious enough that
Miranda had had some kind of falling-out with the Bandog. Accompanying the Kithain in attacking Jubilee perhaps? Solomon must have found out about that. If Jubilee had kidnapped Riley for the Bandog, Miranda would have been turning against the cult and Solomon just by aiding Tango. And hadn’t Matt said something last night about Solomon being angry with her?
Tolly had been right. Miranda was in serious trouble.
But should Tango rescue her? The vampire had killed innocent people at Solomon’s command, for the Bandog, for a demon. Didn’t she deserve what she got? Did she? The nocker looked down at the pathetic form of the woman who had helped her. Tango made a decision.
She wrenched the crude stake out of the ground and slid it from Miranda’s ruined chest. For a long moment, the vampire didn’t move. Tango wondered if the vampire really was dead, in spite of Solomon’s talk of sacrificing her. Then Miranda’s lips slid back from her teeth. Her fangs were huge against her shriveled gums. Her mouth worked weakly. Her eyes came back to life. They fixed hungrily on Tango. “Blood.” The single word was like a cobweb blown on a mere draft of air.
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