Unholy

by Bill Bennett

  Lily rolled out of her tumble, sprang to her feet, and in one effortless movement she slid into the passenger’s seat and shut the door as Skyhawk jumped in behind the wheel, started the car and they sped off, leaving the pit bull lying in the middle of the parking lot, motionless.

  Suddenly there was an explosion and a shattering of glass. They both instinctively ducked, thinking they were being shot at but a knife cleaved the air between them and embedded itself in the front windshield, spider-webbing the safety-glass on impact. Skyhawk quickly pulled the knife out and hurled it out his side window as they raced away from the motel.

  He didn’t say anything for quite some time. He just drove fast, keeping his eyes on the road through the shattered front windshield, occasionally glancing in the rear-view to see if they were being followed.

  They weren’t.

  ‘You’re a good fighter,’ Skyhawk said. He flicked her a look.

  ‘Thanks,’ Lily replied. ‘So are you.’

  She smiled and so did he, then they stared ahead as they drove deeper into the night.

  They didn’t realise that lying flat on the back seat under a blanket, hiding, waiting his time, was a man.

  A man who had once been a vulture.

  Who had once been a twin.

  The man who had once been a vulture and once been a twin winced with every bounce of the car. Shifting back into human form had depleted him more than he’d expected. He didn’t have the strength to kill them – he knew that – not yet anyway. He would get that strength back soon, he hoped – but until then he just had to wait, and trust that he wouldn’t be discovered.

  Perhaps he’d made his move too soon, but it had been exhausting following the car at the speed it was travelling. Vultures weren’t made for swift flight. They were made for circling, for watching, for swooping in and devouring scraps after the predators had moved on. They weren’t built to attack, they were built to scavenge. Grigor wasn’t a scavenger. It wasn’t in his nature to feed off other people’s kills. He was an assassin, one of the Golden Order’s best, and his sole purpose now was to exact revenge for his brother’s death. The two in front would soon experience the full fury of that revenge.

  Lily was feeling tingling again – but weak. She thought that perhaps it might be residual energy from the confrontation with the Kritta woman. But it felt close, somehow. Something energetically foul was close. But that made no sense.

  ‘I need to use the bathroom,’ she said, looking across at Skyhawk, who was staring fixedly at the road ahead, as if trying through sheer concentration to keep his eyes open. ‘And you need a break. How long have you been driving for? I think we both need to stop.’

  She realised at that moment that she probably stank. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a shower. Her skin was still covered with the liniments and oils from the poultices that Skyhawk’s mother had applied to eke out the scorpion’s poison. And her borrowed clothing smelt of smoke and incense from Maddy’s shack.

  ‘Let’s stop at the next motel,’ she said. ‘I need a shower and you need to sleep. You’re exhausted. It won’t help my mom any if we end up wrapped around a light pole.’

  A few miles further down the road Skyhawk pulled into a motel set back from the road, with a half-lit neon sign out front declaring that ESPN was free and coffee could be drunk from bottomless cups. Lily knew these kind of places only too well, from all those years she and her mom had spent travelling from state to state after her father died. At the time, Lily had thought it was so her mom could stay ahead of the grief that threatened to chase her down and envelop her. Now she knew that her mom had been in hiding, on the run from the monsters that had killed her dad.

  Skyhawk parked around the back, out of sight from passing cars, and walked over to the reception office. He returned a short time later with just one key.

  ‘Twin beds,’ he said as he drove off to find their room. ‘But we need to be in the one room. My job is to keep you safe, and so I’ve got to be with you at all times. I hope you’re cool with that.’

  Lily nodded. She was certainly cool with that. It made sense to be together, and he was her guardian after all, entrusted by her Uncle Freddie to look after her – but if truth be known, she was a little disappointed that they’d be sleeping in twin beds.

  He opened the motel room door and immediately all those familiar sickly smells rushed out – cheap disinfectant and cigarette smoke and the smell of Chinese and pizza – reminding Lily of how sad and lonely all those years had been; always on the move, never time to make any friends, constantly trying to bolster her mother and keep her mind off the horrific death of Lily’s father, David. Lily, meanwhile, watching her young teenage years tick by, tainted by an ever-present, ever-growing pall of melancholy.

  They walked in. Lily stared at the two twin beds, side by side, almost touching. They would be close, Lily thought. Very close.

  ‘I left my knife in the car,’ Skyhawk said, and turned and walked back out.

  Lily walked into the bathroom. There was no bath, of course. A room like this never had a bath, only a shower with the cheapest possible head that sprayed out a desultory drizzle of lukewarm water. And the toilet was right beside the shower.

  She heard a shout from outside.

  She turned and ran.

  She saw Skyhawk at the rear passenger door, hauling someone out from the back seat of the SUV.

  ‘What’s going on?’ she yelled out as she ran up.

  Skyhawk pulled the man out – a beautiful-looking young man dressed in an elegant slim-fitting silver grey suit. He looked ill – exhausted, and he moved like he had no energy at all.

  Skyhawk had him pinned against the car, his long-bladed hunting knife at the man’s throat. ‘Who are you? What are you doing in my car?’ Skyhawk shouted. ‘Answer me!’

  ‘My name is Grigor. You killed my brother. And I will kill you,’ the twin said in a thick Eastern European accent, his voice wavering.

  Lily looked to Skyhawk, quizzically.

  ‘Get in the car,’ he said to her.

  ‘But we’ve just …’

  ‘Get in the car,’ Skyhawk repeated, more firmly.

  Lily opened the front passenger’s door and got in. She watched as Skyhawk grabbed the man by his lapels, and with one swift jab he pummelled the base of the knife into the side of the man’s head. The man dropped to the ground with all the grace of a wet bag of wheat. Skyhawk then jumped in behind the wheel, started the car and fishtailed out of the motel.

  ‘Did you kill him?’ Lily asked tentatively as they accelerated away, the early blush of dawn visible through flashing trees.

  ‘No, I just stunned him. He’ll be out for a few hours. He’ll wake with a headache and a big bruise, that’s all.’

  ‘Who was he?’

  ‘He’s a shapeshifter. He’s one of those scorpions in the cave. The brother of the one I killed.’

  ‘So they can do that … change into animals and what-have-you?’

  ‘Of course,’ Skyhawk said. ‘It’s part of our culture too. Shamans, they can take on other forms of life. As can witches, some of them, if they’re skilled in the ways.’

  Lily turned and stared ahead, at the rising sun spearing shards of gold through the woods.

  ‘As for how he got into the car,’ Skyhawk continued, ‘I have no idea. I thought Freddie put some kind of cone around the vehicle. So it’s either worn off, or he has powers that were able to break through it. Either way, I’ve got to be more careful.’

  They drove on in silence.

  Sometime later, after the sun had breached the woods, they found another motel. There was only one room available though and it wasn’t a twin. All they had was a double. So they would have to sleep together.

  Damn, thought Lily.

  And she smiled.

  CHAPTER 19

  Freddie had managed to borrow a large Jeep Cherokee from one of the village elders – a man whose life he’d saved the previous year when he�
��d been sledged by a massive heart attack. They were making good time, because of Joe’s relentless driving habits. He was a machine, unstoppable, unflappable, and from the back seat, Olivier’s curiosity in Joe was fast seguing from grudging admiration to hostile suspicion.

  ‘So who are you?’ Olivier asked of Joe.

  ‘I’m Joe.’

  ‘Yes, I know your name. You have a last name?’

  ‘Joe,’ said Joe.

  ‘Joe Joe?’ asked Olivier.

  ‘I got a middle name too,’ said Joe.

  ‘Don’t tell me that’s Joe too?’

  Joe took his massive hand off the wheel and gave him the thumbs up.

  ‘So Joe Joe Joe,’ said Olivier, ‘how come you’re wearing sunglasses?’

  ‘I got sensitive eyes.’

  ‘But it’s night.’

  ‘I got headlights coming. It’s harsh.’

  ‘It’s harsh.’ Olivier mulled the words over, examining them from every possible avenue of meaning. ‘I think you’re hiding something,’ he finally said.

  ‘Hiding what?’ Joe asked, flicking him a glance in the rear-view.

  ‘Like you got no eyes,’ Olivier said.

  Joe broke out a big rich belly laugh. ‘I got no eyes? Then how is it I can see? How can I drive this damn fine automobile? For a detective, sir, with respect, you don’t make much sense.’

  ‘Take them off,’ Olivier demanded.

  ‘Say what?’

  ‘I said, take them off. Your sunglasses. I want to see your goddamn eyes, or whatever it is you’re hiding there.’

  ‘I can’t do that,’ said Joe softly.

  ‘You don’t understand, Joe Joe Joe. I’m not asking. That’s a police order. Take off those sunglasses.’

  Joe slowed the vehicle down and pulled over to the side of the road. He got out, walked around to Olivier’s door, hurled it open and hauled him out. He grabbed him by the shirt-front and lifted him up so that they were eye to eye, or at least eye to sunglasses. Olivier’s feet kicking were eighteen inches above the ground. Marley hopped out her side and raced around, her weapon drawn. Freddie looked on with amusement out his passenger’s window.

  ‘Asking me to take my glasses off is like asking me to drop my trousers,’ Joe said, barely a whisper. ‘And I ain’t doin’ neither for nobody.’

  ‘Let go of him,’ Marley said, her handgun trained on Joe.

  Joe dropped Olivier. His legs buckled as he hit the ground, he coughed and straightened out his shirt, doing what he could to regain his dignity. He was furious.

  Freddie got casually out of the car, walked over to them. ‘Detectives,’ he said genially. ‘My driver here suffers from a rare acute ocular condition that does require him to wear prescription glasses at all times. As his physician I can attest to that. If he were to remove his glasses, even at night, even for a moment, he could suffer permanent eyesight damage. I’m sure your respective departments would not welcome a lawsuit for injury compensation that could well run into the several millions of dollars. What do you think?’

  ‘I think you are a witch and he is a witch too, and it is only a matter of time before I prove it and I find a reason to put you both in prison,’ said Olivier, spitting out the words in anger.

  ‘Well, until that time comes can I suggest we hop back into the vehicle and continue our roadtrip, because time is of the essence.’

  They turned to see that Gummi had been recording them on his phone. ‘I’m documenting everything, man. No way this will not go viral.’

  Joe drove, as Joe did, and everyone else fell asleep. Joe not only had near superhuman stamina and could drive long distances without requiring sleep or rest stops, he also noticed everything. Driving past a roadside motel he noticed a fancy near-new Mustang parked outside a room. Sometime later, further down the road, Joe whizzed past another motel, with a broken neon sign advertising free ESPN and bottomless cups of coffee, and he noticed a slim young man in a shiny silver suit sauntering suspiciously around a Hyundai Santa Fe, as if he were about to steal it. Joe noticed things like this. Strange things. Discordant things. He noticed ordinary things and out of the ordinary things. He noticed them and he remembered them. Because sometimes, these things he noticed came in handy.

  He kept driving.

  By the time Marley woke they had crossed two state lines and were out of desert country into the green rolling hills of Oklahoma. She checked her phone, checked her maps app, and looked up at Joe, amazed. ‘You’ve driven all this way without a break?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ said Joe.

  ‘Holy hell,’ she said. ‘You’re a goddamn freak of nature.’

  ‘Thank you, ma’am,’ Joe said.

  She rubbed her face, her eyes, both testament to not enough sleep. ‘Let’s stop when you can,’ she said. ‘I need coffee. And a rest room.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  At the next truck stop he pulled in off the highway. The movement of the Jeep slowing woke Freddie and Olivier, but Gummi didn’t stir. His head was nestled in Olivier’s neck, and he was snoring – making a sound reminiscent of a pig dying from tuberculosis. Olivier pushed him away in disgust and that woke him.

  ‘Where am I?’ he asked, looking around, startled. ‘Am I married?’

  They all stared at him.

  Joe dropped them outside a Starbucks then drove around to the pumps to fill up with gas. When he returned they were all sitting at a large table scattered with coffee cups and muffins, and bacon and cheese rolls. Gummi sat to one side, a stack of pink candy-topped donuts by his laptop, tapping away and deeply engrossed. Freddie was beside him, in conversation with Olivier and Marley.

  ‘So you are two rogue agents,’ he said.

  Olivier shrugged, looked over at Marley. ‘Rogue is an inappropriate word,’ she said. ‘I’d prefer to say we’re doing this without backup from our respective divisions. They’d put me into psych assessment if I told them what I really believe is going on.’

  ‘And for me?’ Olivier said. ‘I have someone in Interpol, high up, who I know is a Baphomet agent, and is doing everything possible to stop investigations. I know this for a fact.’

  ‘But you don’t know who it is?’ Freddie asked.

  ‘No, but I will find out. It is my mission. And you?’ Olivier trained his one good eye on Freddie. ‘You are running this Cygnet?’

  ‘Cygnet?’ Freddie asked, curiously. ‘You’ve mentioned that before. What is it exactly again? Remind me, please?’

  Olivier bristled. ‘Doctor, we do not have time to play your stupid games,’ he said, testily. ‘Your sister’s life is in jeopardy, and you yourself say we do not have much time. How about this – how about we work together? Perhaps if you can put your goddamn arrogance aside for a little while maybe we can help one another.’

  ‘How can you help me?’ Freddie asked.

  Olivier leaned forward and stared at him with a burning intensity. ‘I can keep you out of jail, you son of a bitch.’ He lowered his voice. Leaned in closer. ‘Listen to me. I know you are a witch. A very powerful witch. You showed that back at that village when you crippled my hand. That was the work of a master witch. We can play our little games together, doctor, you and me and him,’ he said, nodding to Joe, ‘but soon we will go into combat – yes, combat – with people who have supernatural powers that are more advanced than yours. Certainly Marls and I do not have such powers. So to be quite frank, we need you. We need you to take us to this place, and we need you to help us fight these monsters. Because they are monsters. We cannot fight them with our weapons. They are useless against these creatures. But with your skills, we have a chance. And maybe you will protect us too, if it comes to that …’

  Freddie listened, expressionless.

  ‘As for him,’ Olivier said, glancing across at Joe, ‘let us not pretend anymore. He is your familiar, no?’

  Quick as a flash, Olivier leaned across and whipped off Joe’s sunglasses. He yelled, tried to grab at them, but Olivier was too fast. Joe
looked back at them all with huge eyes the colour of bright green emeralds, with no pupils. Olivier stared, in shock, and slowly handed back the glasses. Joe put them back on, looked over at Freddie as if to apologise, then stood and left the table.

  Gummi broke out into a big grin. ‘That was cool,’ he said. ‘Wish I’d got that on video.’

  Freddie’s phone rang. He quickly checked the caller ID, then looked over at Marley who was sitting opposite him still stunned from seeing Joe’s not-of-this-world eyes.

  ‘If you’ll excuse me,’ Freddie said and walked outside to take the call.

  Gabriella Merchant, Gabby as she was known, had flown from Chicago early that morning, and she was exhausted. She’d had to get up at 3.30 a.m. to catch the first flight from O’Hare to the West Coast. She’d wanted to come to the Bunker because staying at home and getting her information via the phone or the internet was driving her crazy. She was David’s sister, which made her Lily’s aunt – married to a lawyer who was a senior partner specialising in real estate litigation at one of the big firms on LaSalle Street. She was desperately worried about her niece, and Freddie too.

  She stood beside Kee, sharing her phone on speaker, both of them standing at the back of the Bunker staring at the huge screens on the far wall that were constantly flipping over images of surveillance cameras and feeds from satellites, showing the movements of Baphomet operatives in various parts of the world.

  ‘Freddie, it’s me. Gabby. I’m with Kee at the Bunker. I had to come, do something. Even if I can’t help at all I just want to be here so I can get the latest.’

  Like her husband, she too was a lawyer but she’d put her ambitions to one side to bring up three children, the oldest ten, the youngest three. All were being looked after while she was away by their live-in nanny, in their luxurious house in Ashton Park Estate. Gabby had been initiated as a white witch along with her brother, David, at an early age, but then had set her interest in Cygnet activities to one side when she got married. Her husband Leonard didn’t know she was a witch, and she never attended any ceremonies or worshipped, but she had kept in constant touch with her brother and been aware of his increasingly bitter battles with Baphomet. And then when David died, when he was murdered in that horrific car crash in Florida, she was shattered. Since then she’d started to take a more active involvement in Cygnet and had risen to the level of high priestess.