Sorcerer's Creed Books 1-3

by N. P. Martin

  "See what?"

  She shook her head, her patience worn thin. "I have to go now. My flight leaves in a couple of hours."

  Christ, it was all happening so fast. I didn't want her to go, but I knew there was no point in trying to persuade her otherwise. I knew when she had her mind made up. "Leona?" I called after as she walked away.

  She stopped halfway across the roof and turned to look at me. "Yeah?"

  "In the Underworld, you told me you loved me."

  She seemed surprised to hear this, and a little uncomfortable. "I don't remember saying that."

  "Is it true, though? Do you love me?"

  She stared at me for a long moment, then said, "I've always loved you, Creed," as if she was just admitting this to herself for the first time, or at least acknowledging it out loud.

  Then she turned and walked away.

  36

  Sci-Cane

  I stayed up on the roof after Leona left, watching her drive off in the street below, half hoping she would look up before she got into the car, but she didn't. The screech of her tires had an awful note of finality to my ears, making me think that I was never going to see her again. And the way I felt, I could have easily have believed that were true.

  As hard as it was to comprehend, Leona had cracked under pressure. She said it herself, dealing with the supernatural on a daily basis had gotten too much for her. Obviously being kidnapped and tortured by a demon was the final straw for her. And even if I hadn't of slept with Margot, I doubted Leona would have behaved any different. She still would have wanted out.

  Did I blame her for wanting out? Of course not. Every other day, I thought about walking again and leaving it all behind me. But I had been there and done that and knew it wasn't the right course of action. I was one of those who was doomed to stay in the game until death. Leona had a choice, and clearly, she chose to exercise that choice by moving away from the craziness that the supernatural brought.

  The craziness that I brought.

  In one sense, I was weirdly proud of Leona for walking, maybe even a bit envious that she had the choice. On a professional level, I didn't hold it against her.

  But she walked away from me as well, and that I found harder to take. Christ, she even admitted she loved me. Had always loved me.

  Yet not enough to stick around.

  Or maybe she loved me enough not to stick around. I don't know. The only thing I knew for certain was the huge hole she had left behind in me. A hole that felt like it was going to swallow me up completely at some point.

  The only thing to do was fill the hole with more whiskey. That was my big reaction to the devastating turn of events. To get drunk. It's the Irish way.

  As I turned to go back inside the Sanctum again, an earsplitting noise made me jump a fucking mile and violently flinch as if a massive bomb had gone off nearby. I turned around just in time to see a massive flash of bluish-white energy streak across the dark sky as if the energy had been discharged from some huge machine down on the ground somewhere. "What the fuck?" I said, wondering what the hell it was all about.

  Then all the lights in the city started to go out as if switches were being flipped everywhere. Within a few minutes, the city was in total blackout.

  I stood staring out into the darkness for a few moments, half expecting the lights to come back on again, but they didn't. If it weren't for the huge energy flash across the sky, I would have thought the cause of the blackout to be something mundane like a failed power grid or some other technical hitch.

  But the look of the energy I saw suggested the problem was more supernatural in origin. I shook my head. Maybe Leona had the right fucking idea after all, I thought.

  Then just when I thought nothing else was going to happen, a blue laser shot up from somewhere in the north of the city and pieced the starless night sky. The laser, which looked several feet in diameter, then seemed to cause a violent reaction in the sky itself, which split open and poured out yellowish light from a huge hole.

  Only it wasn't just a hole. It was a portal. Somebody somewhere had opened up a portal to another dimension, and as I watched with a fascination I couldn't help, dark shapes began to move down the length of the blue laser light like they were being transported down to the ground. The shapes were traveling too fast for me to see what they were, but I knew it had to be nothing good.

  Nothing good at all.

  And then as suddenly as it appeared, the blue laser light vanished, and the hole in the sky closed itself up.

  A few moments later, all the lights in the city went back on.

  I stood shaking my head. "What the fuck did I just see?"

  I hurried back inside the Sanctum and lifted the phone, dialing the number of the one person I thought might know what was going on.

  "Brentwood. It's Creed."

  "Creed," Brentwood barked. "Nice of you to call."

  "Spare me the animosity, Brentwood. What the hell did I just see?"

  "You're talking about the blackout?"

  "Yes, and the fucking light show that went along with it."

  "Do you know what that was about?"

  "It looked to me like a dimension was opened up in the sky. Why, don't you know what happened?"

  "Not really. The only thing we might be sure of is that it had something to do with Sci-Cane. They've been stepping up their activity lately. I need you on this, Creed."

  "Any idea of what or who they might have brought down from that other dimension?" I asked, not expecting him to know much at all.

  "That's what they did? They brought things back here?" He went silent for a moment as the reality of that sank in. "Christ, it could have been anything."

  I closed my eyes for a second and let out a long breath. The choice I had was to stay at the Sanctum and mope around while I drank myself into oblivion, or I could meet up with Brentwood and find out what the hell was going on with this Sci-Cane crew and why they seemed so intent on causing havoc. The former choice seemed much more appealing to me, but my big mouth didn't agree.

  "Tell me where you are," I said. "I'll come meet you."

  BLOOD CULT (SORCERER’S CREED BOOK 3)

  Copyright © 2017 by N. P. Martin

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Neal Martin

  Visit my website at www.npmartin.com

  1

  Welcome To Division Hq

  Driving the Lincoln up to the Department of Homeland Security building, I was stopped at the front gates by a guard in military fatigues armed with an automatic rifle. I slowed the car and wound down the window as the guard came up the side of me and leaned his head down so he could look at me with a very serious face. "August Creed here to see Brentwood," I said.

  The guard, a young guy in his late twenties who looked like he barely shaved yet, nodded. "Yes, sir. General Brentwood is expecting you."

  General Brentwood. In all the time I had known the man, I don't think I had ever called him General. Calling him that would have just increased the sense of authority he thought he had over me. Brentwood might have operated like he was still in the military, but that didn't mean I had to. The man was operating in a different world now, after all. My world, as fucked up as it was.

  "Thanks," I said to the guard and waited while he went back to his post and opened the large steel gate to allow me access to the government facility. Which, by the way, was located in the Highlands in the very heart of the grinding machine of state. Normally when I visited Division HQ (which thankfully wasn't that often), I would get stopped at the gate and grilled by whoever was on guard duty as they forced me to show ID and then made phone calls to verify who I was. When they did so, the guard would often come back frosty as if whoever they had called on the phone had told them I was
just some annoying piece of shit, but to let me in anyway. This time, there was no such frostiness from the guard on duty. I was temporarily no longer just an annoying piece of shit but a needed, and therefore important, annoying piece of shit. Honestly, I was offended by the change in attitude. So I was great when needed, but a cunt the rest of the time? Story of my fucking life.

  When the gates opened, I drove through them, nodding at the guard who just stared back at me like I was an alien being from another dimension. To be fair, I didn't blame the guard for staring because even I had to admit that I looked like shit. The stresses of the last couple of weeks had taken their toll on me. I was at the point now where I felt like something was going to snap inside of me, leaving me broken beyond repair. It had happened to Leona, hadn't it? She lost her shit. Joining the fucking FBI. What was that about? It was a knee-jerk reaction to the trauma she had been through, and a desperate attempt to rid herself of the world of the supernatural. As if that was even possible. After everything she had seen? No way. Once seen, that shit can't be unseen. Even in the FBI, Leona would still be surrounded by the supernatural. It would haunt her every working day. Before long, she would have no choice but to deal with it. So the whole move would be pointless. She might as well have stayed where she was.

  Of course, I was only saying that because her leaving Division also entailed leaving me as well. As much as that other stuff was true, the real reason I didn't want her going to the FBI was that it would shatter our partnership. A new normality would set in, of which I wouldn't be a part. Pretty soon, I'd just be some weirdo ex-boyfriend to Leona, and that would be that.

  As I drove into the underground carpark of the Homeland building, I welcomed the darkness of the place. The glaring winter sun outside was getting too much, and it didn't suit my mood anyway. The gloom of the carpark felt more comfortable.

  After parking the Lincoln, I walked to the elevator to find another armed guard waiting on me. It was protocol for visitors to be escorted into Division HQ, which remember, wasn't supposed to exist. The Division facility was situated underneath the main Homeland building and was a huge fortified bunker consisting of several different floors. What exactly went on at HQ was mostly still a mystery to me. I knew they had a main operations room that I had never seen, and a prison facility on the bottom floor, plus another floor filled with server rooms and tech that was beyond even the NSA. Beyond that, there was still a lot that I didn't know, despite grilling Leona on it over the years, who never told me anything except what I needed to know. I just knew that Division was considered of utmost importance to the government as the threat of the supernatural was so dangerous and so prevalent. Which kind of made me laugh because magick and the supernatural had threaded its way through the government as it had everywhere else in society. Brentwood thought he was the first defense against the supernatural, where really, he was just a glorified monster catcher, there to keep the supernatural psychos from disrupting the flow of commerce.

  "This way, sir," the guard said, his tone deferential like I was some VIP to be treated with the utmost respect. Which I got to admit, was a pleasant change from being treated like a mildly dangerous outsider who shouldn't even be spoken to in case they disrupt the sacred military order.

  As the doors closed on the elevator and the guard used his ID to get us moving down, an uncomfortable silence ensued as we both faced front and waited awkwardly as people do in elevators. Almost as if to fill the void of silence, my mind turned to Leona and the fact that she had left me. But I blocked those thoughts as soon as they came for I didn't want to think about them. It hurt too much, so I turned to my escort instead. Like most of the people in that place, the guard was young. I put him somewhere in his early thirties. He had dark hair and a square jaw that looked chiseled from granite. I was sure the ladies loved that jaw of his. "So," I said. "Seen any good movies lately?"

  The guard barely looked at me. "No sir, not really."

  Well, that's the end of that line of inquiry.

  "Me neither. I feel like I'm fucking in one though." I snorted to emphasize the ridiculousness of my life. "Shit just keeps on happening, you know what I mean? Sure you do. You probably served in the Middle East, right? Of course you did. And now you're serving in a different type of war, a supernatural war. You ever think you'd be fighting against monsters when you signed up?"

  The guard blinked once but didn't respond.

  Probably not, I thought.

  The lift stopped, and the doors pinged open. "This way, sir," the guard said, looking like he couldn't wait to get rid of me so he could go back and tell his buddies about the fucking weirdo in the elevator.

  I followed my escort down a series of corridors, some of which I was familiar with from previous visits, others completely new to me. I passed people in suits and military uniforms, everyone I passed throwing me queer looks and sideward glances as if they thought I had no business being down there in their sprawling underground HQ. The floor I was on seemed to be where most of the important people (read high and mighty) hung out. Most were past middle-aged and seemed like seasoned professionals (read hard-nosed bastards). Their guarded stares said it all. Although to tell you the truth, I was a little miffed at the frosty reception considering I saved all their fucking asses from complete destruction not too long ago. I guess prejudice runs deep. Brentwood's people still couldn't help seeing me as being the enemy. I was the sorcerer, the dangerous and unpredictable magick-man who often caused as much damage as he prevented. I dealt in the supernatural. That put me squarely on the opposing side, even though in reality, I was closer to the middle.

  Eventually, the guard took me down a sloping corridor that led towards a large set of double doors. Before I even got there, I knew the guard had taken me to the very hub of the Division--the central operations room that I knew existed thanks to Leona, but which I had never been in. The guard opened one of the doors and stood to the side to let me pass into the room.

  When I entered I stood for a moment to take in the technical wonder that was laid out before me. The room was exactly as you would imagine a clandestine central operations room to be. A huge screen on the far wall was showing shaky cam footage from soldiers on the ground somewhere in the city, probably in the area where the massive blast of energy went off not too long ago. Smaller screens surrounded the bigger one, all showing pictures of various places around the city. And just back from the screens was a bank of computers where several people sat tapping frantically on keyboards and talking into head mics. In the center of the room was a huge oblong table, around which sat several men and women in suits, and a few others in military uniform. Brentwood sat at the head of the table, looking as comfortable as ever in his role as Division boss. He stood up when he saw me standing by the doors and motioned me over to the table. "Creed," he said as I walked over. "Glad you could make it. Welcome to the Central Op room. You've never been in here before, have you?"

  I shook my head as I hovered by the table and tried not to catch the eye of everyone else there, who were all staring at me. "No, I haven't," I said. "It's quite the setup. So this is where you do all your spying from is it?"

  A few people at the table shifted in their seats when I said that. "We monitor, Creed. We don't spy."

  "If you say so."

  Brentwood sighed. "You could have left the attitude at home for once."

  I raised my eyebrows like a school kid getting a lecture from a teacher. "What can I say, Brentwood? It's a part of me."

  "Is this the person you've been telling us about?" a man at the table said, a suit indistinguishable in my eyes from all the rest. "The man who is going to stop these mad scientists?"

  The whole table stared at me as if they didn't believe I could help in any way, and that I was probably more of a hindrance than anything. I merely stared back at them all, refusing to be intimidated while I waited on Brentwood to say something in my defense. "Creed wouldn't be here if I thought he couldn't help," Brentwood said to his compat
riots.

  You got that right, I thought.

  "He brought down the monster who almost destroyed everything recently," Brentwood continued. "Creed is the best at what he does."

  "And what do you do, Mr Creed?" a woman in her fifties with severely scraped back blond hair said.

  I smiled over at the woman. "Usually the shit you guys can't or won't do."

  The blond woman's face hardened slightly as she seemed miffed by my response. Probably because she knew I was telling the truth. These government types, they liked to think that they were all powerful and that nothing could stand in their way. Until something did. Then they were forced to face their own limitations. They could, like the woman glaring at me from the table, become quite resentful when they had to eat cake.

  "Eh, Creed," Brentwood cut in. "Why don't we go over here so I can bring you up to speed?" His hand was firmly on my shoulder as he steered me away from the table.

  I gave everyone a final smile. "Nice meeting you all."

  Brentwood sighed as he walked me over towards the huge screen. "Do you even know who half of those people are sitting at that table?"

  "Nope," I replied. "Neither do I care."

  "Jesus, Creed. You're in my house now. A little respect wouldn't go amiss."

  We came to a stop just at the edge of the big screen, not far from the nearest keyboard tapper, a youngish looking woman who kept throwing me fleeting looks like she was afraid to take her eye off me in case I cast a spell on her or something. I was beginning to feel like the big bad sorcerer, the dark conjurer who no one seemed to trust. Fuck them. I couldn't wait to get out of that concrete bunker. It was suffocating and sterile. I'd always hated the place. The only thing I wanted was for Brentwood to throw me a lead so I could go to work up top. In the meantime, Brentwood had a point. I was needlessly rude, but that's how I felt like being. I couldn't help it. Still, I apologized, if only to hurry things up. "Sorry. Rough couple of days."