by Barry Reese
“I love this overcast weather you Brits have all the time,” the man said. “Saves wear and tear on my delicate skin.” A quick smile gave a flash of elongated, milky-white canines.
“I told you to be discreet, Bloodshot.”
“I always am.” The vampire moved through the room, letting his sharp nails trail along the expensive furniture. “I understand you’re having a... special... sort of problem?”
“Yes, you could say that.” Winthrop pointed a finger at Bloodshot, freezing him in place. “Leave one scratch on the furniture and you’ll be cleaning this entire room on your hands and knees.”
Bloodshot snorted but he shoved his hands into the deep pockets of his coat.
Winthrop continued, “Over the last few weeks, I’ve heard reports of an armored man dishing out justice to the perverts and drug runners. You have a bit of a past with Babylon, I believe?”
“Oh, yes.” Bloodshot reached up and ran his fingers over his chin. “He ruined my face, once upon a time... but I’ll never stop hating him. For the right price, I’ll bring you his head on a pike.”
“How charming.” Winthrop looked past the vampire, his eyes seemingly locked on their unseen enemy. Babylon could ruin everything, forcing him to tip his hand far too soon. “I do believe that we have an agreement, Bloodshot.”
“Should we shake on it?” The vampire held out a hand.
The Prime Minister made a disdainful expression. “Let’s pass on that, shall we?”
***
Daniel Higgins woke up to a dry, bitter taste in his mouth. He lay across his bed, still fully dressed, with several days’ worth of stubble lining his cheeks. With a groan, he rolled off the mattress and made it to his feet.
He stepped over the case that contained his trumpet and wondered when he’d last played. It felt like another lifetime.
Downstairs, Mrs. Prathers was washing the dishes. Her husband had surely left for work already, as the sun was shining brightly through the windows.
Splashing water on his face while standing before the mirror, he wondered again how he’d manage to repay their kindness.
He paused as his reflection caught his eye. He saw a young brown-skinned man, though one whose eyes showed the weight of many years. His thin beard was unkempt, and his eyes were bloodshot from too many nights of too little sleep.
“If you could see me now, mama, you wouldn’t let me out of the house without making me get a long, hard scrubbing in the tub.”
Thoughts of his mother made him feel old. He’d lived a long, long time, despite his youthful good looks. He’d experienced the Great Depression, the Cold War, the Civil Rights Movement, Reagan’s America, and even the election of a colored man as President. None of it was as strange as the current world, though; since the merger of Earth with the World of Shadows, Magic was everywhere and the creatures of myth were competing with humanity for living space.
After tidying up as best he could and changing clothes into jeans, a Robbie Williams t-shirt, and running shoes, Daniel went downstairs. Mrs. Prathers was waiting for him in the kitchen. She was in her early sixties and had a round, friendly looking face. He’d seen pictures of her in her younger days, with a flirty smile and delightful curves.
“Keepin’ late hours again, Danny boy?”
“Afraid so.” He grabbed a piece of toast and took a bite while heading toward the door.
“You need more breakfast than that!” she protested.
“I need to work if I want to get you some money before the end of the week. I promised your husband I’d start paying some rent.”
“Don’t worry about that. Your brother helped Susan when she ran away from home, gave her a place to stay and a family to belong to. My sister said he was the first man that ever treated her with kindness and didn’t expect sex in return. The least I can do is let you stay a bit while you’re on holiday.”
Daniel paused. He owed Galahad big for this, calling in an old debt in this way. It reinforced Daniel’s notion that he’d become a freeloader, sponging off friends and family for years. He’d put the blame on Babylon, but that excuse was beginning to wear thin.
Stepping outside after thanking his host once more, Daniel spotted the local newsagent and walked toward it. The Indian fellow that was usually behind the counter gave him a nod of acknowledgement before going back to tossing sunflower seeds at a small fairy he had tied up on the counter. The nude fairy was a male, with large eyes and a slight bluish hue to his skin.
The newspapers, especially the tabloids, were alive with various reports of the supernatural. There were stories of The Peregrine having done battle with a necromancer, while Kayla Kaslov had supposedly purchased a haunted castle that would need to be cleansed.
And, of course, there were reports of Babylon’s doings.
“What the hell is going on over there?” the newsagent asked. “Isn’t that where you live?”
Daniel turned, not only alarmed by what the Indian man was saying to him but by a growing awareness of a crowd that was forming a semi-circle around the doorway to the Prathers’s home.
Throwing down a few coins to pay for the newspaper, he rolled it up and shoved it into the back waistband of his jeans. Memories of his family being attacked by Babylon’s enemies made him shove past those that were blocking him. He expected to see the worst: Mrs. Prathers, lying dead or wounded—but that’s not what he found.
Instead of Mrs. Prathers, there was a stunning young woman half-crouched on the lowest step of the apartment building. Her eyes were rolled back in her head, the whites showing. Her lips were parted somewhat, and her chest heaved dramatically. She was dressed like a gypsy, with a peasant blouse that revealed her shoulders and the upper swells of her breasts and a loose, flowing skirt that shifted around long legs and ended several inches before sandaled feet. Earrings dangled from her ears and her long, black hair curled enticingly about shoulders that had been darkened by the sun.
Daniel knelt beside her, reaching out to draw her to him. If she were having a seizure, he wasn’t sure what to do—and he was hesitant to transform into Babylon until he knew what the situation was. It was possible that the cosmic spirit of vengeance might be able to heal her, but his powers were far more effective at destroying things than repairing them.
His touch seemed to stir something within her for she immediately became lucid, her eyes returning to normal and fixing upon him. “It’s you... I’ve finally found you.”
“Maybe we should get you to a doctor,” Daniel replied.
“No! I lost control briefly but I’m not sick. I’ve come to help you, Gideon.”
The crowd began to drift apart, many of them assuming that the man and woman knew each other. A few of them lingered behind, either out of concern or because they hoped to see something interesting.
“My name’s not Gideon. It’s Daniel.” Lowering his voice, he asked, “Are you saying you know Gideon Black?”
“I know a great many things.” She rose to her feet but made no move to pull away from Daniel. “Forgive me. My name is Topaz and I’m an associate of the man you know as Catalyst.”
Daniel blinked in surprise. Catalyst was Nathaniel Caine, who had been transformed into the world’s greatest sorcerer back in the 1940s. Alongside the original Claws of the Peregrine team, Catalyst had protected the world for decades—and he’d crossed paths with Babylon many times. He was a good man, with a sense of responsibility that rivaled Daniel’s own.
“Okay. I trust Catalyst. He sent you?”
“No, I came on my own. Nathaniel is... busy at the moment. We don’t have much time,” she continued, her lovely face taking on an expression of alarm. “There are great forces of darkness massing here in England and only Gideon Black and Babylon can end this!”
Chapter II Slimelight
The sounds of trance music made Daniel’s teeth ache. It wasn’t that he disliked the musical genre—it was merely that the incredibly powerful sound system was capable of reducing one’s
brains to mush.
“Are you sure you wanted to talk here?” he asked, looking around at the dimly lit interior of The Slimelight Club. Men and women gyrated out on the dance floor, but the real action was taking place in the booths like the one that Daniel shared with Topaz. Daniel saw people making out, some doing business deals of questionable legality, and others simply watching the scene with glazed expressions.
Topaz sipped the drink that Daniel had bought her and smiled. It had been hours since she’d ended up on his doorstep and during that time she’d told him precious little; for someone that claimed time was of the essence, she was more than willing to wait until nightfall. During the intervening hours, he’d snuck her into the Prathers’s loft and let her take a shower. They’d then gone out to share fish and chips—that, combined with the cover charge to get into the club, had left Dan with only enough for one drink, which he’d gallantly offered to his companion.
Topaz leaned forward and yelled, “As long as we’re in here, the chances of anyone eavesdropping on our conversation are very slim.”
Daniel had to admit that was true enough. Hell, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to follow the whole thing. “Okay. How about you start by telling me what dire threat you’re here to warn me about?”
“What do you remember of your time in Hell?”
Daniel felt as if he’d been slapped. He turned away, the throbbing in his temples increasing. “I remember that we found out Babylon’s origins... or at least that’s what Damian and Lucifer wanted us to believe.”
“Nothing else?” Topaz asked, reaching out to place one hand over his.
“If I remembered anything else, I would have mentioned it! What does that have to do with anything?”
Topaz yanked her hand free, looking pained. “I’m an empath, Dan... I can sense emotions. Yours are so potent—sliding back and forth between fear and anger.”
Daniel swallowed hard. “Sorry.”
Topaz shrugged off the apology. “You really don’t remember dying?”
Daniel’s face turned ashen. “I... do. I died while ending the curse that bound Gideon Black’s bloodline to the Babylon armor.”
“And do you remember how you came to be alive once more?”
“No... No, I don’t. I was in New York when Babylon went on his little rampage and fought The Peregrine, though. We bonded again because Gideon was too weak without me. It was driving him nuts.”
Topaz shifted closer in the booth and Daniel caught her scent; it was a mix of some kind of floral-based perfume and Daniel’s own shampoo. It smelled nice, but he was too focused on her words to acknowledge it. “There was a reason why I called you Gideon when I first saw you...”
Fear suddenly overwhelmed his curiosity and Daniel started to rise. “I’m starting to think you’re wasting my time, lady. Go somewhere else and play mystery woman. I’m not interested.”
Topaz’s tone took on a dangerous edge, forcing Daniel back into his seat. “Stop playing this game, Gideon. I’m sorry for you but we don’t have the time for this. Nathaniel has been struck down and so has Jennifer. Someone or something of great power is dispatching all the major sorcerers of the world. That last thing we need is for you to keep playing games with yourself.”
“I told you before—I’m not Gideon Black. Based on the fragments that Gideon remembers from his own time in Hell, he’s not even sure that Gideon Black and Babylon are one and the same. It might have been another lie of Lucifer’s.”
Topaz refused to back down. She continued, “Was it a lie? Or are you really Gideon Black, the man that tossed aside rulership of Hell so that he might return to the relative security of his ‘mission.’ A man that would create a mystic simulacrum to pose as his dead companion of so many years? A man that, after restoring Roxanne Galahad to life, escaped from his post in Hell by falling back into the habits of old?”
“You’re crazy,” Daniel muttered. He shifted uncomfortably and suddenly wished that he’d ignored the commotion and never met this woman.
“You know that I’m not,” she said. “I’m an empath. I know. The strain of ruling Hell became too much for you and you fled back to the mortal realm, but you were confused and frightened. It was only when Daniel Higgins conveniently returned that you felt restored.”
In a shaky voice, Daniel asked, “Are you saying I’m not real? That I’m just some magical clone created by Gideon so he wouldn’t feel lonely?”
Topaz spoke as soothingly as possible. She could sense how close she was to losing him. “I’m saying it’s time for Gideon to find himself a new host. All the confusion and uncertainty is because Babylon isn’t inhabiting a true human form the way he needs to. The reanimated shell of Daniel Higgins isn’t enough. You must bond with a host before you confront the coming darkness or you’ll be destroyed.”
The figure that wore the face of Daniel Higgins stared down at his hands. When he finally spoke, it was with infinite sadness—and with a voice that was no longer the gentle tones of Daniel but rather the deep, rumbling tones of Babylon. “You are correct. I desperately sought to cloak myself with familiarity, to lose myself in my work. But I have always known, through all the conversations with Dan’s brother and with others... I have always known that I was not truly him.”
“Then throw away the façade, Gideon Black. Toss away the magicks that you’ve carried with you since fleeing Hell.”
Flesh began to burn, the awful stench filling the club. As the first flames flickered on Daniel’s head, a nearby dancer began screaming. Most of those unlucky enough to be within viewing distance backed away in horror; the sight of Daniel Higgins’s body engulfed in flames, the clothing and false skin peeling away to reveal gleaming silver and blue armor, would remain with them in their nightmares for the rest of their lives.
Gideon Black, Babylon, stepped from the booth, his hands clenched into fists. His lower face, the only part of him that could be seen outside of the armor, was skeletal. “It is done,” he said. “My self-delusions are no more. I am he, Gideon Black, that was cursed long ago thanks to a pact between my master and Lucifer. Daniel has passed on to his well-deserved peace but I... I remain. And justice must be served.”
“Of course,” Topaz said, moving to stand at his side. “But first things first—you need a new host.”
Babylon stirred. He was pointedly ignoring the frightened murmurings of the crowd. He looked wildly out of place with the pulsing drumbeat of the music and the flashing lights. “You know of someone?” he asked.
Topaz flashed a dazzling smile. “Of course I do. Otherwise I wouldn’t have set all this motion. Though the curse is supposedly broken, I still have a few doubts about that—I’m pretty sure that only someone in the Black bloodline would be able to bond with you for long.”
“So I am to inflict this curse upon another of my kin?”
“Unfortunately. I think this union will be quite unlike any you’ve had before, though. For one, you have your memories now. That means you’ll be much more dangerous as Babylon. Two, this host... won’t be like the ones you’ve had before. Trust me.”
Babylon regarded her evenly. “I will trust you... because you know that if I find you to be an agent of evil, I will burn you to dust.”
***
Sylvia Maxim found herself floating on the astral plane, her real body far away in her Salem, Massachusetts home. For a moment, she felt only confusion—how had she come here? Memories slowly returned to her, of a terrible storm and of a lightning strike that had brought searing pain, then darkness. Ever since the Black Mass had brought Earth together with the World of Shadows the weather had been unpredictable, but this particular storm... Sylvia was sure that someone or something had directed it.
She looked down at herself and saw that she wore a black dress and a pearl necklace. Taught magic by her father as a child, the forty-year-old witch usually wore such attire when conducting a séance. Only now, she was the spirit in need of assistance, rather than the other way around.
/> “I see that Sylvia has awakened. Good. Welcome.”
Turning toward the familiar voice, Sylvia peered through the mist-like air of the astral plane. She spotted Nathaniel Caine, the Catalyst, nearby. He wore the emerald and black attire that identified him as the Wizard Supreme and he seemed perfectly at ease with his surroundings. Behind him were a number of others that Sylvia recognized from the magical community: the ancient woman known as Abigail Cross and the African shaman known as M’Baku being foremost amongst them. It looked like it was a gathering of almost all of Earth’s premier sorcerers.
“Nathaniel?” Sylvia asked, floating toward him. “What’s going on? Were all of you attacked, too?”
Abigail smiled, taking the initiative before Catalyst could respond. “Yes, child. We were targeted because we pose a threat, obviously. Now it is up to us to find a way back to our bodies.”
“What do you mean? Why can’t we simply return to them?”
Catalyst stroked his chin. He was still a handsome man, having aged slower than Abigail, but he was still showing signs of increasing fragility. His hair was streaked with silver and there was a slight tremor to his hands. In every century a new Catalyst would be crowned and the old one would fade away—Nathaniel had been in his role since 1942 and was nearing the end of his run. “The ones behind this must be incredibly powerful—and very well prepared. We’ve been forcibly exiled from our bodies and there is a potent Barrier preventing us from returning. We’re trapped here until we find a way to either combat the magicks at work or someone in the real world is able to defeat the cause of our entrapment.”