Throwing the covers aside, Helen rushed into the main living area, searching for where she’d left the bloodied map. This proved to be a relatively simple task, as it had fallen from its place atop the kitchen counter, with the rest of their mystical resources and landed on the floor.
The map lay with the red ring of blood facing up, and as Helen crouched beside it, the surface of the paper seemed to writhe. Something had happened to the territory. The claim holder had abandoned it or the area of effect had diminished enough for the tracking spell to fulfill its task.
The lines of blood flowed and gathered, leaving pristine paper behind, and centered on a small housing edition on the northwestern side of the Valley. She lifted the map by the edges and brought it close enough to read the name of the street where the blood had gathered.
Carpenter Drive. A smile spread across her face, and she called out, “Wake up! It’s time to move!”
CHAPTER 24
Paxton
Phoenix, Arizona—Saturday night
Not far from the upper surface of the ground, the hard-packed dirt of the tunnel shifted to bedrock. The route down was irregular, as though the way had been carved with hand tools, and occasionally narrow enough that we had to compress into a single-file line. All the while, the stench from below rushed past us. Javier stopped and retched, once, and we’d all gotten the dry heaves but by this point we’d grown used to the odor.
I hope it washes away.
The bouncing flashlights cast irregular shadows on the craggy walls, heightening our tension as we strained our eyes to look into every shadow. For a while, the only audible noise was the panting of our own breathing and the scuff of our feet on the irregular rock, but as we descended, vague echoes reached our ears. The fact that we could hear from below brought us all to a mutual silence, even though it was impossible to make out any sort of detail as to what the sound was.
It sounds like chanting.
Right at the moment when I thought that I could make out the words with a bit more clarity, it ended. The residue echoed around us, growing progressively more silent until the silence left us alone in the stinking dark.
As we continued to descend for what felt like hours—but was actually only around ten minutes—the darkness around us lightened to gray until we crept through the visual equivalent of predawn twilight. The passage curved up ahead, and the swell of illumination beyond told me that we were nearing our destination.
At once, the chorus of voices cried out again, and I flinched at the abrupt cacophony.
“Tlaloc! Tlaloc! Tlaloc!”
We froze, but we needn’t have bothered. The chanting bounced and echoed off the tunnel walls to deafening effect. I could have set a bomb off in the place and would go unnoticed.
Emboldened, I led the De La Rosas forward. Pausing at the curve, I peered around the edge. The chanting continued to buffet my ears. Ahead, lines of electric lights secured to the ceiling made the tunnel day-bright, but I saw nothing at the end other than a featureless rock wall some distance away.
I barely heard Javier’s hiss of alarm as I stepped the rest of the way around the curve. Moving forward, I went down on hands and knees without even thinking about it. My instincts served me well, and my jaw dropped as I took in the sight at the end of the passage.
The tunnel ahead expanded into a massive, open space, but the largest portion of it sat below us. My skin crawled at the lack of cover, but I slid forward just a bit further so that I could fully comprehend what lay before us.
The cavern was too regularly-shaped to be natural. I couldn’t fathom the amount of labor that must have gone into carving it out of the bedrock. At the same time, the ancient aura of the place told me it had to have been carved by hand. If there were any ghosts left down here in the deep, they’d have stories to tell.
The ancient builders had formed the chamber in the shape of an inverted pyramid. As I studied the stagger-stepped sides, I realized that the shape was the same as the ceremonial structure I’d seen in my vision. It even had the same long, broad staircase, hewn from the very rock and situated in front of the tunnel opening.
And, I realized with a sudden chill, the place looked not unlike the grassy amphitheater Kent had taken us to. Had the dump sites been some sort of elaborate joke, and not random at all? I couldn’t fathom how the others tied into this man-made cavern, but I was beginning to question every assumption I’d made about this entire case. If the cultists had all this space, why even discard the bodies? The stench coming out of the place was bad enough that a few rotting corpses wouldn’t make it worse.
You’re getting into a bad habit of walking into traps if that’s what this is.
Black-robed figures filled the lower tiers of the chamber, rocking back and forth as they chanted. They were too far away to quickly count, but they had to number in the hundreds.
Guess this is where all the clients ran off to.
The bottommost area remained largely free of any occupation. A red-stained stone slab centered toward the back wall was an obvious sacrificial altar. An incongruous metal lattice set into the floor in front of the altar confused me at first. A floor drain? All at once I made out two pairs of very small hands, clutching the metal from below. A blend of terror and relief rushed through me. They’re alive. Thank God, they’re alive.
A purple-robed figure strode across the stone pathway between the altar and cage, his hands lifted high in celebration. My lip curled as I recognized the figure’s shouting voice. Donnie.
“Hail Tlaloc! Brothers and sisters, who among you will offer themselves into his service tonight? Who will become as One, and ascend to something greater than themselves?”
The crowd roared in reply. “Tlaloc! Tlaloc!”
I turned my head around and nearly jumped out of my skin. Carlos had shadowed me all the way forward. He grinned, but there was a strained quality to it. Being outnumbered fifty plus to one will do that to a guy. “What’s the play, brother?”
I stared at him for a moment, then took a quick look at the scene below. Maybe we could hold the high ground and rain bullets on the crowd, but I didn’t like the look of that lattice if we needed it to stop a bullet. Something intended to keep kids locked out of the way didn’t need to be all that sturdy.
Like it or not, we were going to have to pull Ethan and Evan out without resorting to gunfire. Which meant someone was going to have to go down and do it the hard way.
That someone being me, of course.
I turned back to Carlos, Javier, and Scope. “Spread out up here. Don’t shoot unless you have to. The kids are down there.”
Javier looked like he wanted to fight me on it, but he nodded and said, “We’ll back your play, son.”
Pushing myself to my feet, I steeled my will and took to the staircase with a cocky, one-at-a-time strut. The crowd of cultists below was too fired up to notice. As soon as there was a lull in the chanting, I shouted, “Hey, Donnie! What are you doing wearing your tech college graduation gown, you pretentious douche bag?”
A sea of faces turned to gape at me. Donnie seemed just as shocked, but his face quickly went red with rage. “Get him!” he screamed, pointing unnecessarily. “Bring the wizard to the altar so we can sacrifice him to the glory of Tlaloc!”
Force blades snapped into life around my outstretched hands. I should have been out of my mind with terror, but the only thing I felt was a cold glee at the prospect of delivering long-deferred justice.
I leapt to the fight.
Eliot
Phoenix, Arizona—Saturday night
The Division M agents had adopted the living room couch as their go-to piece of furniture. It was close enough to the surveillance table to keep an eye on things, and comfortable enough to relax without the temptation to sleep on it.
Plus, with Morgan out in the field, there was no one in the house to tell Eliot to get his shoes off the coffee table.
George muttered under his breath, and Eliot cracked an eye open. �
��What’s up?” The part of Locke’s group that hadn’t left had been holed up in the Sikora house ever since, with next to no activity outside.
“Another RV, cruising the neighborhood. It’s doing loops.”
Eliot sat up and leaned forward. “It is Arizona,” he pointed out. “This is the backup promised land for retired people that don’t settle down in Florida.
The other agent didn’t reply. Intent, he leaned in closer to the screens. “Wish we had more cameras.” He pulled back. “They’re stopping right in front of the Sikora house.”
Eliot headed over to the breakfast nook and took up his binoculars. Sure enough, the front half of another motor home was visible around the right rear corner of the house. As he watched, the side door came open. Figures burst forth, and something about their gait raised the hair on the back of his neck. “One, two—six,” he counted. Young women stepped down after the other figures, intent expressions on their face as they studied the neighborhood. “Shit, shit, shit.” He turned to George. “It’s them.”
The other agent’s expression was placid, but he could see the wheel’s turning. “Numbers are going to be tight, even with Beatrice. I’d feel a lot more confident if we had Morgan around to throw some combat magic at them.” He hesitated, then shrugged. “No offense.”
Eliot stared out the window. The half-dozen familiars had split up to surround the house. Any response they could make was time-sensitive, but not horribly so. Helen and her crew seemed to be dragging things out, to ensure they got what they came for, he supposed. He clenched his jaw, then nodded to himself.
He turned away from the window and pulled his holstered sidearm off of his belt. “Pull the truck around and get Beatrice ready. We’ve got the containment cages. Between the two of us, we should be able to shove any survivors inside. How does that change your tactical math?”
George’s face was pale. “How do I talk you out, if you get too deep?”
Eliot shrugged. “Val’s not around to do it, so I guess I’ll have to make sure that doesn’t happen, won’t I?” He kicked his shoes off and started to unbutton his shirt. “But do me a favor.”
“Name it.”
“If I do lose it, put a bullet in my head. It’s better than the alternative.”
Helen
Phoenix, Arizona—Saturday night
Kelsey drove—Helen clutched the map in the passenger seat and tried not to bounce in excitement.
As they turned and headed southeast on Carpenter Drive, Helen felt a rhythmic pulse go through the ensorcelled map, tugging her toward the first house on the right. “There,” she said, pointing. “That’s the place. Park in front.”
She was up and out of her seat before Kelsey put the motor home in park. Helen focused her will and snapped to the familiars. “Surround the house. Don’t let anyone get out—but don’t kill them. We want everyone in there alive, for now.”
If the girls took offense at her assuming command of their servants, she didn’t give a damn. Her body shook with anticipation, exulting at taking the next step forward.
“What’s the plan?” Roxanne said. Helen suppressed a smile. The girl had remained well and truly hooked since their private conversation, and she imagined that Roxanne’s own excitement nearly equaled her own.
“Let’s line up in the front yard and let them get a good look at us,” Helen instructed. “Have your shield charms, ladies?” She waited, then said, “Excellent. The nice thing about having force available is, most of the time you just have to flaunt it. Once my son sees what he’s up against, I imagine we’ll be well on our way.”
Giselle scoffed. “You’re going to let him live? He killed our friend!”
She kept a placid look on her face as she regarded the other girl. “Sweetie, he took out your friend and three familiars by himself. If we push him too hard, who knows how many of us he can take?” She smiled. “Don’t worry. He’ll come after us. He has to play the hero, after all.”
The blond girl made a face but waved a hand in acceptance. “Fine.”
“Excellent,” Helen said. She led them into the front yard and cupped her hands around her mouth to aid her cry. “Paxton! All I want is my book!”
CHAPTER 25
Paxton
Phoenix, Arizona—Saturday night
My first attempt at crowd surfing didn’t go so well.
I bowled over the lead cultists, and the screams of rage transited into pain as force blades slashed through the black robes and flesh. Fire flared in most of them, but others screamed and clutched spurting wounds.
Junior members, I guess? A knot of black-robed figures went for a tackle, but I went out of phase and passed through them before they could subdue me. Hopping over to an empty section of stone, I went corporeal again and looked for an opening. The line of cultists had the stairs blocked off, and each stagger-stepped level was taller than my standing reach. Even with fire support from above, a sprained ankle would be bad news. Maybe if I jumped while I was out of phase?
The cluster on the stairs pulled themselves apart, kicking the wounded aside to clear the traffic jam. There weren’t as many bones littering the stone as I’d expected. More than a few of these people weren’t under the same spell that reacted to my own magic—bargain basement lunatics rather than enchanted members of a hive mind. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. It was a lot easier to fight when the bad guys weren’t spraying you with blood.
So don’t fight.
I grimaced. This was going to feel weird as hell, but it was the least bloody way to go at it. And fastest, come to think of it.
With an inarticulate scream, I ran into the line of cultists. If my sudden assault intimidated them, they didn’t show it. They reached out to pull me down, to obey Donnie’s order.
It might have worked if I hadn’t phased out before I hit the leading edge of the crowd.
Holding the spell was one of the hardest things I’d ever done, especially with the nauseating sensation of multiple bodies rushing through my own ethereal one. I made it to the stairs, took a left, and sprinted down them faster than was safe.
And so what? If I fell down, it wasn’t like I’d break a leg or anything.
Quick spurts of gunfire sounded behind me, but I didn’t take the time to look. The De La Rosas were either fending off an upward assault or sowing chaos in the ranks of my pursuers. Either way worked for me.
A pair of bigger figures waited on the bottom level, which was lousy timing. I was starting to get the shakes. As soon as my feet hit bottom, I snapped back. Despite having the consistency of a ghost, I still had the full head of momentum I’d built up coming down the stairs. In a way, that didn’t seem fair, but I was hardly in a position to complain. If I’d tried to slow myself down I’d end up with my face in the stone, so I used it, sprinting right at the big guys.
In stereo, they announced, “Give up, now, wiz—” I ran between with them with outstretched arms and didn’t hear the rest. I bladed them both on the way through, then slowed down in time to turn and watch as twin heaps of ash and bone hit the ground.
Pumping my fist would have been a bit over the top, but I couldn’t resist an elated whoop. “Surrender, Donnie!” I shouted. “I’ve got all night—I’ll go Buffy the Vampire Slayer on all your buddies!”
I didn’t get a response, which figured. Little twerp ran for it. I glanced up the stairs to gauge how much time I had. Rows of tumbled bodies littered the steps, stopping short of the top. Things had gotten a little hot and heavy for Javier and the crew for a while, but the rest of the survivors seemed to have backed off collected toward the middle levels. They had two options—get shot or get ashed. Who knew what kind of perks came with membership, but they must not have been enough pour encourager les autres.
Of course, that meant that I had to shepherd the kids through them. Best not get too cocky.
“Hey, mister, you have anything to eat?”
I crouched and peered through the grating in the floor. The chamber
below was shallow, no more than four feet deep, and maybe six by eight. Not a ton of room for anybody, much less a couple of young boys who’d usually spend most of their time bouncing off the wall.
The brother who’d spoken had hollow cheeks and wide eyes full of desperate hope, but when he spoke, he had all his teeth. “You must be Evan,” I said. I pulled the Snickers bar from my pocket. “How about we let you guys out, first? Then we’ll take you—out of here.” I had to cut myself off. These guys weren’t likely to be going to their real home anytime soon.
A simple metal locking bar held the cover shut, and I heaved as I stood, throwing it open on surprisingly quiet hinges. The crash and thunder of the door’s impact elicited murmurs from up above. I took another look up there. The cultists closest to me had gathered some form of confidence and were congregating in my direction.
Should have taken Carlos up on his offer to borrow something with a little more authority. The Mossberg on my shoulder was ideal for plowing the road, but it was also a lot slower to reload than the De La Rosa’s magazine-fed submachine guns.
My laugh held an undercurrent of panic. “Probably wouldn’t hit the broad side of a barn, anyway.”
“You okay, mister?”
“Yeah.” I reached down to help the brothers out of their cell, then handed the candy bar over. “Eat up, fellas.”
The wrapper disappeared between blinks, and Evan broke it in half and handed a section to his brother. Ethan had yet to speak, and he considered the candy for a moment before he started gnawing on it.
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