“They’ve been blessed with power from Heaven,” said Morrison. “These men are with the Opus Dei and I called them here.”
“After everything that’s happened…everything we’ve been through…” said Dakota.
“I didn’t want to do this, Dakota, you have to believe that,” said Morrison. “But I’m afraid I had no choice. The fate of humanity is in the hands of your son. And the only way we can survive is if he destroys Luther Cross once and for all.”
15
Before Tessa left her place to pick up some supplies, Alistair had begun scribbling in a notebook. She’d only been gone for two hours, but when she returned, there was already a stack of three notebooks. Alistair sat on the floor at the small coffee table, his eyes staring blankly at the wall while his hand continued to write furiously.
“Alistair…?” she asked, slowly walking towards him after setting the bags on the counter in the kitchen. He didn’t acknowledge her presence. Tessa looked down at what he was writing, but she couldn’t make out a word of it. She wasn’t even sure what language it was written in—if indeed it even was a language and not gibberish.
He was performing psychography, or automatic writing. It was when a person produces written words without consciously writing them, usually spurred on by a supernatural force. She’d read about the phenomenon but had never actually seen it in use herself. Tessa moved beside him, careful to avoid any disturbance that might break the connection. She picked up one of the notebooks and flipped through it. Page after page of words she couldn’t begin to decipher, as well as some drawings, too. They were crude sketches, but one she recognized as similar to Odysseus’ office.
Tessa put the notebook back with the rest and returned to the kitchen. She looked through the supplies he asked her to get. Various herbs, some aromatic oils, paints for creating sigils, a few crystals, and different varieties of candles. Some of them were things she’d used before, but as for others, it was her first experience with them.
An audible gasp caused her to pause sorting out the new purchases. She saw Alistair slumped over on the table and rushed to his side. Tessa got on her knees next to him and started shaking him.
“Alistair? Alistair!”
Worry started to set in. What if whatever entity had been spurring the psychography attacked him? Could it have used Alistair as a conduit to get past the mystic wards she had on the building? And with her magic acting up, could she even hope to stand a chance against it?
“N-not so loud…” he finally muttered in a soft voice. Alistair sat up straight and rubbed his face before giving a shake of his head. “Feel like I’ve just come off a bender.”
“Just glad you’re okay.”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Though could use something to help calm my nerves. Don’t suppose you have any scotch lying around?”
“I’ve got vodka.”
Alistair frowned. “Will have to do, I suppose.”
Tessa helped Alistair up from the floor and over to the couch. Once he was situated, she went to the kitchen and took the bottle of vodka from the cupboard and poured some into a tumbler with ice. When she returned to Alistair, he was looking over the notebooks.
“I took a glance through one of them, but couldn’t make out a word of it,” she said as she handed him the glass.
He accepted the drink and nodded his thanks, then sipped as he continued to read.
“What do they say?” she asked.
“The coin I planted at Odysseus’ place, it’s like a mystic bugging device,” said Alistair. “When I go into a trance, I can connect with it and use psychography to take dictation.”
“What language is that?”
“The language of the wind.”
Tessa’s head tilted. “And that would be…?”
“How much do you know about King Solomon?”
Tessa shrugged. “Probably nowhere near as much as you.”
“Well back in his day, he was considered the wisest man who ever lived. Possibly still is, these things are hard to quantify, especially when so much is based on legend,” said Alistair. “But no matter how much he learned, it was never enough. You might say Solomon was something of a knowledge junkie. He had this habit of dressing up in tattered clothes and going out into the marketplace in Jerusalem, posing as a simple traveler so he could hear the voices of his people firsthand.
“On one such excursion, he came across an old man at the edge of the marketplace. Without missing a beat, the old man addressed Solomon as ‘my King.’ Solomon asked the old man how he knew his true identity and the old man responded, ‘I heard the wind whispering.’ Solomon, intrigued, asked the old man to teach him the language of the wind, and so the old man did. The language of the wind spoke across time, in different tongues and tones. It told Solomon of every inch of his kingdom.”
“And you can speak this language, too?” asked Tessa.
“Only certain members of the Sons of Solomon are granted the honor and even still, it’s difficult to learn. I wouldn’t say I’m fluent, but I know enough to get by,” said Alistair.
“And this wind language, it told you about Odysseus’ place? His defenses, the conversations he’s been having?” asked Tessa.
“Would seem so,” said Alistair. “Might take me some time to look through all these and make sense of what the wind is saying. But for the most part, I think we’re on the right track. I’m seeing layouts in here of the building, bits and pieces of conversation, the comings and goings of him and his men…”
“You see anything useful in those pages yet?” asked Tessa. “Something you know for sure we can use?”
“Apparently there’s a hidden room in the office. Odysseus seems to go down there when he’s alone. If I were a betting man, I’d say that’s where he keeps the Book of Metatron.”
“And you’re certain the Book of Metatron contains this resurrection spell?” asked Tessa. “It’s been used before?”
“Ever hear of a bloke named Lazarus?”
“Yeah, but that wasn’t because of some book, it was because of Jesus.”
“Well, wouldn’t have been as dramatic if the gospels said Jesus paused to consult his spellbook, now would it,” said Alistair. “Trust me, the book will do what it’s supposed to do. The records held by the Sons of Solomon make several references to it, so I know it exists and I know it’s in the hands of Odysseus.”
A chime sounded in the basement. Someone was at the front door. “I’ll go see who that is,” said Tessa. “I guess start working on those, see if there’s anything we can use. Then maybe we can order takeout or something, because I’m getting pretty hungry.”
Alistair grunted a reply and Tessa climbed the stairs from the basement to the first floor. She’d decided to keep the store closed for the time being while dealing with this Odysseus Black situation, so she assumed it might just be one of her regular customers.
But when Tessa opened the door, she was surprised to see two men in black robes standing on the other side of the gate. One was older, with a silver beard, bald head, and glasses. The other was significantly younger, maybe in his thirties or so. His short, blond hair was slicked back and he had a thin goatee and sharp cheekbones that accentuated his handsome features.
“Can I help you?” asked Tessa.
“Yes, in fact,” said the older man. “My name is Thomas Morgan and my associate here is Jeffrey Reynolds. We’re looking for a man by the name of Alistair Carraway and we have reason to believe he may be here.”
Tessa took notice of the necklaces they wore. The Seal of Solomon was engraved on the silver pendants hanging from their chains. Alistair was a member of the Sons, if they were searching for him instead of contacting him directly, Tessa had a feeling it was because Alistair didn’t want to speak with them.
“I’m sorry, but I have no idea who that is,” she said. “There’s no one here but me and my cat.”
Thomas looked down at his wrist and checked the silver watch he wore. “Strange, t
he sign on the door says you’re open until nine at night. It’s only six. Weather seems fine and it’s not a holiday…”
“Downside of being the one and only employee here is that when I’m not feeling well, I have to close up shop,” said Tessa.
“You seem fine to me,” said Jeffrey, chiming in for the first time.
“If you must know, I’ve got a splitting headache,” said Tessa. “And you’re only making it worse.”
“I find it strange that you’ve never heard of Mr. Carraway,” said Jeffrey, continuing. “After all, you’re a known associate of Luther Cross. And he and Mr. Carraway were very close.”
“Was a known associate. We haven’t been on speaking terms in some time. Even when we were, we didn’t talk much about our personal lives. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to take some aspirin and lie down.”
“How were you acquainted with Mr. Cross?” asked Jeffrey.
“He was a customer, big Luke Cage fan,” said Tessa.
“Had nothing to do with his business?” asked Jeffrey. “You know, his work as a paranormal investigator.”
“We never talked about work.”
“Ms. Kang, do you know who we work for?” asked Thomas.
“No,” said Tessa, lying.
“The Sons of Solomon. It’s a kind of…monastic order, not very well-known outside of certain circles. But among those who deal with the occult, we’re something of a household name,” said Thomas. “We keep databases of active magic users. And in this county, your name does appear. So I’d advise you to not play games with us.”
“And I’d advise you to get off my doorstep before I call the cops,” said Tessa.
“I don’t think you’ll be doing that, Ms. Kang.” Thomas looked past her. “Because it seems you haven’t been entirely honest with us.”
Tessa followed his gaze and saw Alistair standing behind her. He walked forward and her body tensed up. She should have tried to warn him somehow or gotten rid of them faster. But Alistair just gave her a smirk.
“Don’t worry about it, Tess. I can handle this,” he said as he approached the gate. Tessa stepped back and kept her eyes fixed on the two robed men.
“Hello, Alistair,” said Thomas. “We’ve been trying to reach you but with no luck.”
“You made your feelings on Luther quite clear, Thomas. Felt there was nothing more needed to be said.”
“And you disobeyed my orders,” said Thomas. “Things have been messy lately. Like the reports of a man opening fire in O’Hare Airport and somehow managing to escape the police. Or a large beast of a man wreaking havoc in a night club.”
“This is a dangerous city. It didn’t get the nickname Chiraq because of falafel stands,” said Alistair.
“Yes, very cute,” said Thomas. “There’s also the matter of a certain hospital. A dramatic spike in spiritual activity there. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
“Come now, Thomas,” said Alistair with a smirk. “You gonna dance with your hand on my arse all night long, or are you gonna make a move?”
“I know you know what I’m talking about here, Alistair. I know you’ve been involved in these incidents. I know Cross is dead and yet you’re still here in Chicago. So why don’t you tell me just what the hell it is you’re planning?”
“Don’t think I like your tone, Thomas old son. Nor your insinuation.”
“Carraway, you’re one of us, we’re trying to help you,” said Jeffrey.
“The lapdog speaks, impressive,” said Alistair. “I admire the initiative, boy, but keep your mouth shut when the adults are talking.”
Jeffrey’s face started to contort in rage. Tessa looked on as it seemed he was going to do something. But before he could make any attempt—and without even looking at him, perhaps just sensing his emotions—Thomas raised a hand. Jeffrey backed down, but his shoulders remained tense.
“Jeffrey’s right about one thing, you are one of us,” said Thomas. “And if you’re planning something…unorthodox, you should also know that we will police our own if it comes down to that. I don’t want to go down that route, but I will if I have to.”
Alistair reached into his jacket and pulled something out. He threw it between the bars of the gate and it clattered on the sidewalk. Tessa looked down and saw it was his own pendant with the Seal of Solomon on it.
“In that case, I’m no longer one of you,” said Alistair. “Now, the lady said she doesn’t want you hanging around here. So you can either choose to leave of your own volition or I’ll remove you myself.”
Thomas sighed as he turned away. “I’m very disappointed in this path you’ve chosen for yourself, Alistair. But I doubt this will be the last time we meet.”
Jeffrey lingered, continuing to glare at Alistair. When he was finally ready to leave, he bent down and picked up the discarded pendant. Alistair shut the door and locked it. He then turned to Tessa and offered her a smile.
“Now, I believe something was said about takeout? Craving some Thai food myself.”
“What the hell was that?” asked Tessa.
“Thomas Morgan, head of the local Sons of Solomon chapter,” said Alistair.
“That just sounded like trouble,” said Tessa. “I’m not in the mood to mix it up with a secret society.”
“We won’t have to.” Alistair fished in his pockets and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.
“They’re onto us, they know something’s going on.”
“No, they suspect, and that’s not the same thing.” Alistair lit the cigarette and took a long drag. “Thomas knows about Luther and about what happened between him and Cain. So far, that’s all he knows and it will likely stay that way so long as we keep our wits.”
“And how do we do that?”
Alistair took another drag on the cigarette and looked up at the ceiling. “Haven’t quite figured that part out yet. But don’t worry, it’ll come to me."
16
I looked into my own face, seeing myself as fifteen again and standing in a gas station convenience store. I set a can of beer on the counter. The clerk behind the register couldn’t have been more than a few years older than me, an easy mark.
“Pack of Marlboros,” the kid said.
“Need to see some ID,” said the clerk.
I watched as the red eyes on my teenage face began to glow. The teen stared into the clerk’s eyes, the glow growing stronger. My powers weren’t that strong at this point in my life, but I was learning how to use them.
“This is how you leveled up your magic?” asked Whitey. “Stealing cigarettes and beer?”
I shrugged. “What do you want? I was only fifteen. That’s a Budweiser on the counter, clearly I didn’t have much in the way of taste.”
The clerk’s eyes glazed over and he took a pack of Marlboros from the container above the counter and set them beside the beer. “Have a nice day, sir.”
“Thanks.”
The teen took the cigarettes and beer and left the store. Once outside, he popped open the can and started drinking as he circled around the building and then down an alley. He tore the plastic off the pack and dropped it on the ground. He stopped just long enough to take out a cigarette and light it. A coughing fit quickly followed. He tried to wash it away with the beer and then took another shot at smoking.
“And just what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
I watched from a distance with Whitey by my side. Thomas towered over me, arms folded across his chest. He slapped the beer out of my hand.
“This was when I started acting out,” I told Whitey, watching the memory play out. “I outpaced all the other students in my studies of magic, but I was still considered a freak. At this point in my life, I’d stopped caring what they thought of me, decided to start using my powers for my own benefit. Thomas and I clashed a lot during those days.”
“Luther…” said Whitey.
“Looking back on it now, he was still an asshole. But I could’ve handled
things better myself.”
“Luther!”
Whitey’s insistent tone broke my speech and I looked at him. “What is it?”
Whitey’s eyes were wide with fear and he turned around. I followed his gaze and saw the two floating shadows with glowing red eyes. The wraiths had found me. They let out their unholy screech and charged forward.
“We have to go!” Whitey turned his back on them and broke into a run. I followed his lead, quickly catching up to him.
The screeches made me cringe every time the wraiths uttered them, and served as a reminder that they were still closing in on us. As we ran, the world melted away. We weren’t in my memories anymore, now we were back in the theater. Whitey and I ran down the aisle and through the screen. We left the building and were now standing on Southport Avenue in Chicago.
“How are we supposed to get rid of them?” I asked.
“I’ve never seen one before, I’ve got no idea!” shouted Whitey. “Luther, I swear if I die again because of you, I’m kicking your ass!”
It was surreal, running down the sidewalk without anyone paying attention to me. A few times, I reflexively tried to avoid people blocking my way. Somehow kept forgetting I didn’t have a solid form anymore.
“Where are we going anyway?” asked Whitey.
“My place has wards, it can keep them out,” I said. “Gold Coast is over an hour away on foot, though.”
“Forget about that, what do you mean wards?”
“Protection!” I shouted back. “Y’know, from the supernatural.”
“You mean wards to keep out things like fucking ghosts?”
Shit, Whitey was right. Those same wards that would keep out the wraiths would also keep me out of my own condo. Like it or not, there was no way to hide from these things. They’d finally found me and now they were on a mission to tear me out of this world.
But I couldn’t just keep running from them. I had to do something to fight. I stopped and turned around. Whitey came to a stop right after he realized I had. I glanced back at him and he looked at me like I was psychotic.
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