“You are aware that locator spells can be blocked, aren’t you?”
Alistair gave Tessa an incredulous look. “Girl, I’ve forgotten more about magic than you’re likely to ever know, so of course I bloody know that. But don’t you think it’s a bit coincidental, my spell not working right after I had that vision?”
Tessa rolled her eyes. Alistair sighed. He could have been more diplomatic with his response. Plus, he understood what she was trying to do. It was clear Tessa was trying to give him hope that he could be wrong. Or maybe she was doing it for herself. Even though he knew they’d had a falling out, Alistair also knew that Tessa was someone Luther counted among his most trusted friends.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Bit of a rough night as you can imagine.”
She held up a hand. “It’s okay, I get it. You’re just upset and I can see why. But what really worries me isn’t that Luther is dead. It’s what you said to me before you came inside.”
“That we’re going to resurrect him,” said Alistair.
Tessa nodded. “That’s exactly it. You said it yourself, you’ve forgotten more about magic than I’ll ever know. So you more than anyone should know that there’s no such thing as a resurrection spell. Not a real one, anyway.”
“That’s not entirely accurate.”
Tessa sighed and set her cup on the table. She then stood from the couch and walked over to a bookcase. “I’ve got a ton of books here that will tell you otherwise. Sure, there are necromancy spells, but that’s just reanimation. If we’ve got Luther’s body, we can turn him into a zombie, but that’s about it. What you’re talking about is restoring a soul. And that’s something that can’t be done. Once the soul leaves the body, that’s it. If you go down this road, all you’ll wind up with is something out of The Walking Dead.”
“I know all about necromancy, love,” said Alistair. “And you’re right, that’s not what I want. And yes, as far as most of the world’s sorcerers are concerned, there’s no resurrection spell to be found in any of the books. With one exception.”
Tessa folded her arms and looked at him in disbelief. “Okay. What’s this mysterious book and how come I’ve never heard of it?”
Alistair set his coffee down and stood as well. “I’m talking about a book that wasn’t written here on Earth, but in Heaven. By the scribe himself.”
She scoffed. “Bullshit. Even if it was real, you know how heavily that thing would be guarded? No one’s ever seen it.”
“One man has. And he holds it in his possession,” said Alistair. “I know where we can find the Book of Metatron, but I’ll need help convincing its current owner.”
“Why’s that? And exactly who owns the book?”
“Ever hear of a bloke by the name of Odysseus Black?”
Tessa’s jaw dropped and she furiously shook her head. She turned from him and went towards the kitchen, running her hands through her short hair.
“Have you taken complete and total leave of your senses?”
“It’s true, he has it. I know for a fact.”
“For your sake, I hope you’re wrong,” said Tessa. “He’s used black magic to keep himself alive for centuries. He’s got no moral code, no sense of ethics. He’s just a total bastard out for himself. And what’s worse, he’s one of the most powerful sorcerers in the world. So if he has the Book of Metatron in his possession as well, he’s pretty much unstoppable. And he and Luther were never exactly friends.”
“You’re right, which is why I can’t go to him by myself. I need backup.”
Tessa leaned against the wall and lightly banged her head against it. “No. No, no, no, no, no!”
“It’s the only way.” Alistair walked up to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. He stared into her eyes with his piercing blue ones. “Please, Tessa. Luther’s too important to this world. We can’t let him die and the Book of Metatron is the one thing capable of restoring his soul to his body. You know I’m right about this. And you know I can’t do this on my own.”
Tessa took in a deep breath. She shook her head again and then steeled herself. “Looks like Luther got his persuasion skills from you, too. Okay, I’ll go with you to talk to Black. But if he refuses, if he’s not going to help us out, then we have to find another way. A way that doesn’t involve him. Because the last thing I’m going to do is cross swords with Odysseus Black.”
“Scout’s honor,” said Alistair.
3
It’s a strange thing to watch your own funeral. If given a choice, this isn’t the way I would’ve wanted it to happen, on some Philippine island far from home. Never even wanted to be buried, always preferred cremation. But none of them had any way of knowing that.
Shelly dug a grave for my body, which they’d wrapped in bedsheets, and as carefully as she could, laid my body inside. It was a shallow grave, only about half as deep as they were supposed to be, but they didn’t have much in the way of time. And the injuries Morrison sustained from Asmodeus and Iblis kept him from participating too much.
Once Shelly finished burying me, Morrison read from his Bible and offered a few words. I mostly tuned out during that part. After everything he’d seen, you’d think his faith would’ve been shaken, but guess those Opus Dei guys were pretty serious about their beliefs. Shelly’s head was bowed, her hands clasped together in silent prayer as Morrison spoke.
Dakota was different from both of them. Her face remained stoic and she stared straight ahead, her newborn baby cradled in her arms. I stepped in front of her and looked her directly in the eyes, even though I knew there was no possible way she could see me.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I said I’d do whatever it took to help you and now looks like I’ve broken that promise. But I’ll stick by your side, do whatever I can to help. In the meantime, I just need you to hang in there. You gotta be strong, not only for yourself but for Malcolm, too.”
Nothing I said registered on her face. But then she took a sharp breath. It was a small gesture and her eyes went from indifferent to frightened. Did it work? Was she able to sense my presence? Lucifer said our souls were connected after everything we’d been through, so if anyone could feel my presence, it was her.
“Dakota?” asked Morrison. He closed his book as he approached her and placed a tender hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“As…okay as I’ll be, I suppose,” she said, turning away from him. She took a deep breath to compose herself and faced them once more.
“We should figure out what to do next. Asmodeus found us, so it won’t be long before others could,” said Shelly.
“What do you suggest?” asked Morrison.
“We find a boat to Indonesia. I have some friends there, they can keep us safe.”
“And then?” asked Morrison. “We can’t just keep running. Sooner or later, someone will catch up to us. Luther may have taken care of Asmodeus for us, but Iblis is still out there. So is the angel who started this. Once he discovers that Luther is dead, it won’t take him long to start scouring the planet for us.”
“I’m open to any suggestions you might have,” said Shelly.
Morrison took a deep breath. The look on his face told me that what he was about to say would make me want to punch him. “We go to my superiors in the Opus Dei.”
“You’re fucking insane!” I shouted, for all the good it did. No one reacted to my outburst. “They might already be working for this asshole!”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Shelly. Good, at least someone had their head on straight. “We don’t know if we can trust anyone connected to the church.”
“Do we have another option?” asked Morrison. “Look at us, Shelly. Even if I wasn’t already wounded, I’m still not much of a fighter. Dakota has the baby to care for. And you’re a great fighter, you can hold your own against many types of creatures. But against someone like Iblis? Against an angel? You have no magical abilities and your best shot sadly just isn’t good enough.”
Shelly hu
ffed and turned away. I knew how she felt. Much as I hated to admit it, Chuck had a point. They weren’t in any shape to go up against the kinds of people who might come after them. And I wasn’t in a position to help them at all.
“Wait,” said Dakota, finally offering some input. “Shelly, before Luther died, you said he gave you something?”
Shelly nodded and reached into her pocket. Yes, good! Lucifer’s spell. With that, it could buy them some time. Maybe give me a chance to learn something while I was on the other side.
Dakota carefully unfolded the delicate parchment and looked at it. “I…don’t get it?”
“Allow me.” Morrison took it from her and adjusted his glasses as he tried to read the paper. He lowered it after a few moments and looked at Shelly. But she only shrugged.
“You said it yourself, I don’t know anything about magic.”
“So it’s useless…” Morrison dropped the parchment on the ground and turned away, running both hands over his balding head.
Dammit. When Lucifer gave me the spell, it seemed fairly simple to me. But to people with no real firsthand knowledge of magic, it may as well have been written in Kryptonian. They couldn’t make heads or tails of it and without that spell, they could still be found by any of the number of people out to get that baby.
I needed a cigarette and a stiff drink. Two things that were definitely out of the question.
“No one panic just yet,” said Dakota. “This doesn’t mean we’re screwed.”
“I wish I could tell you otherwise, my dear, I really do. But unless you know someone capable of reading that spell…”
“I mean…there’s Luther’s friends,” said Dakota. “Tessa and Cassandra. But they’re in Chicago.”
Morrison sighed. “We could try. But it might take some time to get in touch with the right people and get the proper travel documents. And in that time, we may get discovered.”
“There’s no other way though, is there?” asked Dakota. “We have to try to get back to Chicago and find Luther’s friends. They helped me once before, I’m sure they’ll do it again.”
Morrison nodded. “Despite some difficulties she was having with Luther, Tessa seemed quite willing to help me, too. I don’t like that idea, but it may be our only shot.”
It wasn’t the best idea in the world, but it might be the only shot. If I could figure out how to move about in the veil, I might be able to reach Cassandra or Tessa, get word to them that Dakota and the others needed help. Maybe even arrange for them to meet halfway. But first, I had to figure out how to make this ghost thing work to my advantage.
“Maybe not.” Shelly knelt down and picked up the parchment. She stayed in that position, just studying the paper for a long time. Finally, she rose to her feet. “I think I have an idea.”
“And what might that be?” asked Morrison.
“Babaylan,” she said.
“What’s a babaylan?” asked Dakota.
“Philippine shamans,” said Morrison.
“You think they can help us?” asked Dakota.
“I’d say it’s worth a try. Especially if the only other option is to try and get to the other side of the world with a target on our backs,” said Shelly.
“Do they even exist anymore?” asked Morrison.
“What do you mean?” asked Dakota.
“They were largely pre-colonial, but started to fade once the different ethnic groups started converting to Christianity and Islam,” said Shelly.
“But under Spanish rule, they were persecuted as witches.” Morrison looked down with sadness in his eyes. “Many were killed.”
“Only a small handful remain, but I do know of one. He lives on the island of Basilan,” said Shelly.
“How do you know him?” asked Morrison.
“By reputation only,” said Shelly. “When I was with the order, my mother superior mentioned him as having helped her in the past. He’s considered one of the most powerful babaylan still alive. If anyone can help us, it’s him.”
“Okay, then we’ll go find him,” said Dakota.
I’d never heard of a babaylan before. But given what Morrison said, that wasn’t really a surprise. I imagined the few that still existed mostly kept to themselves. I didn’t know much about the Philippines, but one thing I did know was the Catholic Church had immense power here.
“I’ll get the car started and we’ll go to the port, take a ferry to the island. I’m sure once we reach him, he can help us,” said Shelly.
Dakota nodded. “Let’s go back to the house. Gather whatever we need, only as much as you can carry.”
She was taking charge of the situation. I liked seeing her step up to the plate, gave me a sense of pride. As they made their preparations, I had to do some work of my own. I wanted to learn what I could about being a ghost. Charon wasn’t too forthcoming with all the details, though that may have been because he had a tendency to act like he knew more than he really did.
I closed my eyes and concentrated, shutting out the world around me. In theory, dreamwalking should have been just as possible whether you were alive or dead. So all I had to do was try and reach out to some people I knew using the same skills as before.
I took deep breaths—or at least went through the motions of taking deep breaths. Centered myself, shut out the world around me. Sounds melted away into nothing. My body became extremely light, to the point that I felt myself floating up into the air.
When I opened my eyes, I was staring down at the Earth. Blue and round and beautiful. I reached my hand out and turned. The planet started to spin. Don’t get it twisted, I wasn’t actually turning the planet, Christopher Reeve-style. This was just more of a way to visualize how my spirit traveled through the dreamscape.
The planet stopped and I was looking down at North America. I dropped towards it, moving through the clouds and approaching the United States, then Illinois. Continuing down towards the southwestern coastline of Lake Michigan and the city of Chicago.
I was pulled down rapidly from that point and everything around me became a blur. I landed on the ground and for the first time since Asmodeus killed me, there was a sensation that felt a lot like pain.
“Luther…?”
I got to my feet and brushed myself off. I looked around and saw I was standing in an old, abandoned church. The one where I was born. And standing in front of me was the man who saved me that day.
“Alistair,” I said. “Wish I could say it’s good to see you, but under the circumstances…”
“You’re dead.”
I scoffed. “Well, now that you’ve gone and spoiled the surprise…”
“Your spirit’s still here?” asked Alistair, stepping closer to me.
“Yeah. Seems my situation means no one really knows where I should be sent. And I wasn’t going to go into Purgatory and risk Thanatos getting his claws into me again,” I said.
Alistair looked terrified. His eyes were almost bulging. “You shouldn’t be reaching out to me like this.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“You’re risking detection by contacting me,” said Alistair. “If someone senses your presence, they’ll be able to track you in the spirit realm. And not only your enemies, but other things, too.”
“Charon mentioned something about wraiths?” I asked.
Alistair nodded. “Exactly. If the spirit realm were a human body, wraiths would be the immune system. You aren’t supposed to be here, and they’ll do whatever they can to see to it that you’re expelled.”
“What am I supposed to do?” I asked. “I’m following Dakota and the others, I have to help—”
“Stop!” shouted Alistair, holding his hands to his ears. “There could be others listening in. You’re risking far too much by being here, for both of us.”
“What do you want me to do? Wait for those wraiths to come after me? Go to Purgatory and let Thanatos have his way with me? Are those the only choices I have?”
“No,
there’s another one,” said Alistair. “I already knew you died. I’m with Tessa and we’re working on a way to bring you back.”
“‘Back’?” I shook my head. “No, Alistair. I don’t want to come back as some reject from a Romero flick.”
“That’s not what I mean. I know a way, but you just need to be patient. Hold out as long as you can. Keep your head down, avoid the wraiths. Don’t do anything that will attract attention to yourself.”
“And how long’s it gonna take?” I asked.
Before Alistair could answer, I felt myself being pulled away, like a rubber band snapping back. I opened my eyes and once again, I was back in the Philippines, looking down at the freshly packed dirt that was my grave.
Something told me things were going to get a lot worse before they got better.
4
Beyond being the tallest building in Chicago, the Willis Tower also held another distinction, though one unknown by the average person. It served as a gateway to a place called Eden, a sort of embassy for Heaven. At one point, the angel Raziel served as Heaven’s representative in Eden. But that changed when Raziel disappeared under mysterious circumstances.
What only few knew was that Raziel hadn’t died or gone off on his own. He’d been placed in captivity by a fellow angel, named Pyriel. And now, Pyriel was the one appointed as the new representative in charge of Eden.
Eden bore the appearance of a high-end jazz club. Every inch of the place was decked out in pristine white and the guests all dressed to the nines. The guests themselves came from many different avenues. Many mortals in positions of power—politicians, captains of industry, the wealthy—came to Eden in order to curry favor with those who had influence in the supernatural underworld.
Raziel was the one who chose this design for Eden. Though Pyriel didn’t care much for it one way or the other, he decided to keep it in place for a feel of continuity. No sense in upsetting the apple cart before he had to.
“Pyriel, you have a guest.”
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