Unholy Torment

by Kristie Cook

  “Were there people in them?” Tristan asked.

  “I don’t know, but we can’t wait any longer. What if they’re taking them to gas chambers or something?”

  “They’re not,” Vanessa said as she perched on a table, her leg swinging back and forth. “They’re doing exactly as we thought—farming them. Taking them where they won’t be killed while the humans bomb the hell out of each other. They’re safeguarding their food supply just like any army would.”

  “We still need to do something soon,” Kristen said. “Before it’s too late to save those people.”

  We couldn’t argue with that, so we spent the rest of the afternoon watching the camp ourselves to see what might have changed over the past few days and the evening ironing out our plans. Right after we broke for the night, Tristan and I searched for Dorian to spend some time with him since we hadn’t been able to during the conversions. We found him in his usual place—sprawled out face down on a cot in the private room Ammi and Kristen had insisted on giving to us. Actually a janitor’s closet, the space barely fit a double-size mattress and a cot among the brooms, mops, and shelves of cleaning supplies.

  “Why are you in here by yourself?” I asked as I sat on the floor next to the cot. Sasha, in her toy-dog size, jumped from her sleeping spot next to Dorian and bounced over to me, wagging her tail. I scratched her behind her ears.

  “You haven’t made any friends?” Tristan asked, sitting on our double mattress next to me.

  “No.” At least that was what the sound Dorian made sounded like. He didn’t bother sitting up or moving at all to talk to us.

  “Have you even tried?” I asked.

  “I did, and nobody wants me around,” he muttered into his backpack that currently served as his pillow.

  “Not what I heard,” Tristan said. “I know there’s only a few kids your age here, but they all want to know more about you. I hear them talking.”

  “I hear them, too,” Dorian said. “All of them. And they’re just nosy. What kids are my age anyway, Dad? I don’t even know what age I’m supposed to be.”

  Tristan and I exchanged a look. I leaned my head on his shoulder while reaching out for Dorian’s leg. As soon as I touched it, though, he jerked away.

  “I want to be left alone.” He flipped his head over to stare at the wall.

  “We want to be around you, Dorian,” I said. “We haven’t really seen you in days.”

  “Not my fault,” he snipped.

  “It’s not ours, either,” Tristan said. “It’s nobody’s fault. But we all have time right now.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “Have you been practicing your powers?” I asked, thinking that would get him talking. I knew full well that he had been, and I couldn’t blame him or stop him any longer. I’d be curious, too, if I were him, and we’d reached the point that maybe if he learned how to master and use his abilities, he could fight the Daemoni instead of joining them.

  The left side of his whole body moved in what appeared to be a shrug, if a prone body could shrug. “A little.”

  “So what can you do?” I asked, forcing a little extra excitement in my voice. “That whole freezing thing is pretty cool. Haha! See what I did there?”

  He turned over and gave me a look. “You’re a dork, Mom.”

  “Got you to turn over and talk to us,” I said. “So what else?”

  He held out his hand, and a small flame appeared in his palm. “Just like Dad.”

  The beam I knew would come began to grow across his face. He was proud of that one.

  “And this.” He sat up, held his hand in front of him, closed it into a fist, and then unfolded his fingers. He kept his palm cupped, holding a pool of water. He blew lightly across the surface of it, and a cool breeze lifted my hair. Then the water solidified, becoming a chunk of ice. He squeezed his hand together once more, and the ice turned to snow, falling into his lap. I scooped up the small pile to examine it, then stared at my son with wonder.

  “Looks like you can manipulate all four elements,” Tristan said.

  “I can create them out of nothing,” Dorian corrected.

  “Wow.” I had no other words.

  “That means you have a lot of power, son,” Tristan continued. “With power comes responsibility.”

  Not wanting Dorian to feel like he was being lectured, which would cause him to clam up again, I was glad Blossom interrupted at that moment when she tapped on the metal frame of the door. My relief immediately floundered, though, when I caught a whiff of the steam rising from the mug in her hand.

  “Are you kidding me?” I asked, my throat already closing up. “They’re calling this the apocalypse, and you’re bringing me that nasty tea?”

  “If this is the apocalypse, then we need hope more than ever,” she said, a little too cheerfully.

  I rolled my eyes as I reluctantly took the mug she held out to me.

  “That smells gross, Mom.” Dorian wrinkled his nose. “Why would you drink it?”

  I swallowed down a gulp and mirrored his disgusted look. “Blossom seems to think it’s good for me.” I glanced up at her, trying to give her the evil eye. “I can’t believe you even have all the ingredients still.”

  “I had everything, but the pigeon’s feet. Owen got those for me today.”

  Tea sprayed everywhere out of my mouth. Blossom burst into giggles, and Dorian joined her. I glared at them both. Tristan’s body shook next to mine.

  He touched his finger to the corner of his lip. “You have a little something there.”

  Dorian and Blossom laughed even harder. I narrowed my eyes at Tristan, and he reached his finger out and swiped it across my bottom lip.

  “Just kidding,” Blossom finally said once they settled down. “I promise there are no pigeon’s feet in there.” She looked over at Dorian and smiled. “I really only need their beaks.”

  Dorian exploded in another fit of laughter. “And don’t forget their eyes.”

  “Gross,” I said. “No wonder this tastes like ass.”

  “It can’t be as bad as that stuff on the train,” Blossom said.

  “Ewwww! Nothing’s that bad,” Dorian said, still howling.

  “I don’t know.” I held my mug out to them. “Why don’t you try it and tell me?”

  Dorian jumped back, hitting his head against the wall, which only made him laugh harder. “No way!”

  Blossom shook her head and waved her hands in the air. “That’s the last thing I need right now.”

  I eyed her more seriously. “Exactly how I feel.”

  “In your case, you’re wrong. Drink up.” She crossed her arms over her chest and stood watch over me like a warden as I drained the last of the tea. My throat felt like I’d swallowed fire.

  “Blech. I half-wonder if pigeon feet would make it better.” I placed the mug on a shelf.

  “I’ll catch one for you tomorrow, Mom, and you can find out.”

  I didn’t doubt he could. Now that we’d lifted his mood, he talked to us non-stop until the rest of the compound fell quiet with sleep.

  “See you in the morning, little man,” I whispered as Dorian began to drift off in his cot.

  “Not if I see you first,” he murmured, and then he broke into a fit of giggles. “Just kidding, Mom. Love you both.”

  “Love you, too,” Tristan and I said at the same time.

  “Until the end of my days,” I added.

  Only the footsteps of the night guards and a few snores from the various rooms of sleeping bodies could be heard. Tristan and I snuggled together in our little bed, reminding me of the first few nights we’d slept together at Mom’s cottage. Saying things had changed since then was the understatement of the universe.

  The next day we left the bunker to execute our plan on the Norman farm. Except things had changed again. Super-sized soldiers, standing half a foot or more taller than their counterparts and beefed up like Superman, walked the fence now.

  A familiar mi
nd signature of a Summoned son was also nearby.

  Noah’s here, I told everyone right before an ice pick shot into my brain.

  Chapter 18

  The sharp pain, a million times worse than a brain freeze, only lasted a few seconds this time, and I had to wonder what that meant. But I didn’t have time to worry about it. I needed to find where Noah hid. This could be our chance to disarm him, and maybe even all the controls, if they were being kept together. I tried to home in on his mind signature, but the lingering pain of the ice pick blocked my reach. Bits and pieces of words wavered in and out of my mind, and it took me a moment to realize my team was trying to talk to me.

  We’d split into pairs and scattered along the fence line to make our move on the fence itself. Owen had us all cloaked, of course, and my telepathy was our only mode of communication. With a concentrated effort, I pushed the last of the pain out and mentally cleared my head.

  “Where is he?” Owen asked.

  “We need to stay on task,” Solomon said. “Focus on the mission.”

  “If Noah’s close enough, this would be a lot easier if we could turn off his control of these soldiers,” Tristan pointed out. “Alexis?”

  I’m trying, I said, and I meant it. I’d been reaching out with my mind while listening to them, searching for the mind signature I’d felt only moments ago. Finally, I pinpointed it. He’s east. A little north. By the Eye, I think?

  I wasn’t sure about that last part, but only guessing based on where we’d been that night Kristen had found us.

  “Let’s go,” Owen said.

  “Hold on,” Charlotte piped up. “What about the people here?”

  Nobody replied at first, waiting, as though we could all feel Tristan’s gears working.

  “Vanessa and Owen, come with Alexis and me,” he said. “The rest of you stay here, and when you see the change in the soldiers, go through with our plan.”

  “We need you to paralyze them,” Char said.

  “I don’t think we’ll need to. If we can get the stone out of Noah, these guys will probably be confused and disoriented. That’s when you make your move. Surely you can hold them, Charlotte, until we get here.”

  “And if you can’t remove Noah’s stone?” Sheree asked.

  “Then we’ll probably have some serious problems,” Tristan responded, which was what I’d been thinking.

  We’d brainstormed ideas for how to subdue a Summoned to cut out their stone, if we ever found one, but we didn’t have a specific plan for this situation. I didn’t sense any other sons or their offspring around, but perhaps they were barely beyond my mind’s reach, which meant Lucas may have been lurking out of reach, too. This could have possibly been a trap, as well. If any of the soldiers had recognized us or any Daemoni had been watching, Lucas would have known we were in London. At least one of his sorcerers obviously did, based on the pain and mental jam I’d experienced a moment ago. And since Lucas always remained a step ahead of us—or two or three—he probably knew we would go after the Summoned.

  In fact, he’d pretty much set it up so we would. He hadn’t spilled all his secrets that night at the abbey about the horrors he’d committed simply to brag. He knew the Normans were our weak spot, and that we’d do anything to protect them. So he knew we’d do what we could to disconnect the soldiers from their controllers.

  That brought us to the question of the day: Was Noah’s nearby presence a lucky coincidence or a trap?

  Considering our lack of luck since the day the Daemoni came out to the world, I doubted the lady would give us a stroke of it now. But we wouldn’t know until we found Noah, or at least until we could come closer to him and analyze the situation better.

  Maybe we should all go, I said, worried about what we might be walking into and if we’d be enough to fight whatever we would face. On the other hand, if a trap awaited us, bringing my whole team into it probably ranked up there with worst ideas ever.

  “If we succeed in breaking the connection, we’ll only have a small opportunity here to free these Normans before the Daemoni figure out something’s wrong,” Tristan said.

  So with that, we left the others behind to watch the camp, and the four of us set off down the road and across the bridge with the murky waters of the River Thames flowing beneath us. Moving toward Noah’s mind signature, we turned left at the end of the bridge, in the direction of the London Eye. A wide and stout hotel, including a McDonald’s, stood to our right, and this had no doubt been a busy tourist spot, even on drizzly days like today . . . except not now. Although it was the middle of the day, not a single soul roamed the streets or meandered around the area. No mind signatures anywhere near except the one we sought. The only others were back the way we came.

  As we approached the giant Ferris wheel, Noah’s mind signature felt above me. I halted, holding my arms out to stop the others, and tilted my head back, craning my neck and blinking against the light mist falling in my eyes. I sensed him in a pod at the top of the wheel—the wheel that hadn’t moved in weeks.

  Suddenly two more mind signatures popped into place—the one above with Noah belonged to Jeana, and I assumed the one behind us belonged to her partner in crime, and whatever else they partnered in. Merrick? I remembered her calling him that back at the warehouse when she’d had Owen and me chained up. No sooner had I identified them when that freaking ice pick drove into my brain. My hands flew up, clutching my head, and my jaw clenched against the agony.

  “We know you’re here,” Merrick said from behind us, and we all turned around to face him although he couldn’t see us under Owen’s cloak. His stature was taller and leaner than I expected, dressed in an expensive looking suit. His dark hair was combed back, and his hand tugged at his salt-and-pepper goatee. Piercing blue eyes contrasted sharply against his olive complexion. “I feel your energy. Especially yours, Alexis. So perfect for my needs.”

  “Feel this,” I growled through my teeth as I pushed Amadis power out of my whole body, sending it along the river of current he pulled from me.

  “Fucking bitch,” he snapped when it reached him, and he immediately cut off the drain on my power.

  The greenish light of one of Owen’s spells soared at him at the same time Tristan shot his power at the sorcerer. With a wave of his hand, both ricocheted away, but he knew where we were now. A streak of red flew at us, but Owen’s shield blocked the spell—or more like absorbed it, shaking the air around us. Electrified energy made my hairs lift.

  “He’s too strong for me,” Owen whispered. “He’s breached my shields before.”

  “We need to split up,” Tristan said. “Owen, stay with Alexis.”

  Owen threw a separate cloak over Tristan and Vanessa, and we ran in pairs in opposite directions around the sorcerer.

  “I don’t want to fight you.” Merrick turned in a circle. “Jeana, on the other hand, is a tad bit angry for that false spell you provided last time. That’s why she’s up there with Noah. I don’t how long I can keep her from killing you, though. Especially that warlock.”

  “Can he sense us?” I asked Owen as we continued sidling around Merrick.

  “Possibly. He’s a lot more powerful than me.”

  “What do you want then?” Tristan’s voice carried from Merrick’s far side. I tried to telepathically ask him what he had planned, but his answer came distorted and nonsensical. I didn’t even know if it was an answer or a random thought. The pick in my brain that prevented me from hearing either sorcerers’ thoughts messed with my ability.

  “You still have information we need,” Merrick said. “Like how to break the connection between Noah and those soldiers over at Westminster.”

  As if. He couldn’t really believe we’d fall for that, could he?

  “Jeana and I have better ideas of what to do with such power. It would involve the Daemoni vampires and shifters, and eradicating them all. Ridding the world of their uncivilized behavior and diseased existences would benefit us all, including the Amadis. Don
’t you agree?”

  “The Amadis no longer exists,” Tristan said.

  Merrick let out a sick-sounding chuckle. “Somehow, I don’t quite believe that. Lucas might, but I’m not so easily fooled. Now tell me what to do, and we’ll take care of Noah and those soldiers over there first. Then we’ll be on our way to the lovely Commonwealth for the rest of the Summoned, making them ours, not his. What do you say?”

  “I say go to hell,” I bit out. “If anyone takes care of Noah, it’ll be us.”

  “You want a trade?” Merrick asked, turning in our direction, those intense blue eyes zooming in on us. Owen and I hustled around to his left. “We might be able to do that. We’ll give you Noah to do whatever you want with as soon as you tell us how Lucas is connected with the Summoned and the Norman soldiers.”

  Plan, Tristan? I asked, and a new shot of pain dug into my head. A garbled sound that could have been “distraction” came back to me.

  “I think Tristan wants us to distract him,” I whispered to Owen.

  “Faerie stones,” Owen said aloud to Merrick. The sorcerer spun toward us, his eyes lit up with curiosity. “Kali created a spell to mimic a faerie stone with the attribute of control.”

  “And?” Merrick asked clasping his hands together under his chin.

  “And that’s all,” Owen lied.

  The sorcerer frowned, his goatee pulling downward. “What about the lykora? What does she have to do with it?”

  “Nothing,” I said as we moved again. If Merrick didn’t believe us, which he obviously didn’t, spells could start flying any second. “They soaked the stones in the Summoned’s blood, then broke them up and implanted them in the Normans. That’s all.”

  “You’re lying!” Merrick shouted, and a red streak shot toward us. We instinctively jumped out of the way, although Owen’s shield held. “We know the lykora is involved.”