In the depths of City Hall, the Wyrm awoke, amidst a shower of jade fragments, shattering free of the prison that had held it for nearly a century. Urged on by its siblings the Scarecrow, the Fool, and the Gohlem, the Wyrm shook off the lingering effects of its slumber, and once more entered the waking world.
And the waking world immediately registered the presence of an alert and active Wyrm.
The President of the United States, the leader of the free world, was startled out of his dreams by the shrill ringing of the phone on his nightstand. Blinking his eyes, he glanced at his slumbering wife, and then reached for the phone. As he did so, he checked the clock at his elbow.
"What is it?" he said into the receiver, forcing his mind awake.
"Mr. President," said a voice that the commander in chief recognized as his Chief of Staff. "China's armed forces are mobilizing. We think they may be preparing a retaliatory strike for Hong Kong."
The President sighed. "We had nothing to do..."
"I know that, Bill. But Jesus, they think we did it. Or the Brits did it. And they're looking for payback. They don't care if NATO was involved or not; they're going to hit us."
"All right," the President grunted. He stood up and stretched. "Get everything started. I'm on my way."
In Northern Ireland, the recent upsurge in IRA spawned violence was met with swift and sure retribution. The SAS invaded Belfast.
The faltering peace talks in the war ravaged former Yugoslavia had been forgotten a weak ago. Now Sarajevo, which had held on so heroically for so long, was on the verge of collapsing.
Rabid PLO terrorists bombed the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem, killing two hundred civilians, and fourteen Isreali soldiers. Yassir Arafat withdrew from the peace talks, sensing that the Israelis were not prepared to discuss the topic seriously.
Zapatista rebels in Mexico launched a dozen attacks on Mexican military strongholds. Thousands died.
The rivers and streams of Rwanda, Burundi, and Tanzania turned red, clogged with bodies of men, women, and children.
In the United States, Los Angeles, in the grip of the coldest winter in living memory, erupted once more as African Americans took to the streets to protest, and militant white groups met them with Molotov cocktails and bricks. Militia groups in Illinois, Texas, and Idaho assaulted the capitals of each respective state. Police in New York City were swamped with calls when random murders began occurring all over the five boroughs.
Bizarre weather patterns wreaked havoc with the natural order. Alaska, and parts of Siberia, deep in the grip of winter, experienced a frightening thaw; no one noticed, but the Arctic glaciers receded fifteen feet in the space of forty-eight hours. Cairo, Egypt was buried under a thick layer of fog that made even traveling on foot impossible. Japan was buffeted by the greatest tropical storm ever recorded, promising a tsunami of epic proportions.
The jungles of Central America were buried under three feet of snow. And in the southeastern United States, a terrible blizzard raged, paralyzing the entire south.
It was but the prelude to a greater darkness.
Perseus sharpened his sword while watching the developments on CNN. The weather was interrupting the satellite feed, leaving the TV screen almost as snowy as the view outside Perseus' window, but the sound came through perfectly. Bernard Shaw was reciting a litany of horrors, one after the other, and even the usually stolid newsman was beginning to fray at the edges. His voice cracked noticeably as he talked about what was happening in Atlanta, and Shaw stuttered to a halt.
Perseus saw Shaw look up from the papers on his newsdesk. "I know this is unorthodox," Shaw said to the camera, "but I want to ask everyone watching this program tonight to pray. Pray for --"
Perseus switched off the TV.
Victoria looked at him archly. "I was watching that."
"Go read a newspaper," Perseus said absently, returning to his sword.
Mitra suddenly sprang out of his seat, beside Victoria on the couch.
"Bran still isn't back yet. I'm concerned."
Perseus didn't look up from the reflective surface of the short sword. "Sit down, Mitra. If there is anyone we don't have to worry about, its Bran Mac Lyr. Remember, Selura and Rachel are still out there. I'm more concerned about *them*."
Mitra stood for a moment, then sat down again. He was silent for a moment, and then said, "Where's Kurt?"
Perseus did look up then. "He's talking with Shelly. I don't think they want to be disturbed."
Mitra nodded. "Gotcha. Hey, now, that gives me an idea." He shifted on the couch so that he was facing Victoria. "Wanna shag?"
Vic exploded, leaping to her feet and yelling, "What?"
"Well, you know," Mitra explained. "The world is on the brink of Armageddon. I was just wondering if you wanted to go out with a bang."
Vic resisted the urge to break his neck with a well placed kick. "You can't be serious," she spluttered.
"He isn't," Perseus said, still intent on his work. "Mitra excels at mind games. Don't let him bother you."
"Actually, Percy, I was being serious. Why should Shelly and Kurt have all the fun? Or you and Selura, for that matter?"
Perseus looked up sharply at that, while Victoria suddenly turned a bright red. Mitra noticed Victoria's expression, and asked, "Say, how does that link between you two work?"
Victoria reacted without thinking; her foot flashed up and snapped Mitra's neck in a fraction of a second.
Perseus winced, and then set the sword down on the coffee table.
Mitra's neck settled back into place, and he blinked his eyes furiously, Perseus stood up and smoothly interposed himself between the two of them. He saw no malice in Mitra's eyes, only grim amusement, but Vic was livid. And even though he could see the stormy expression on her face, it was the link between them that told Perseus she was absolutely furious.
"Okay, you two. That's enough. Mitra: just shut up. Vic, relax. He doesn't mean anything by it. He's just nervous, like we all are. But," and he looked at each of them in turn, "that doesn't mean we should be lashing out at eachother. Now, both of you apologize."
The two looked at him strangely for a moment, and then Vic mumbled an apology. Mitra grinned hugely and offered his own sincere regrets for his actions.
"Something bad just happened," Alec said.
Perseus, Victoria, and Mitra turned to see Alec Scott the Wraith standing in the doorway of the den. His pistols were thrust into his belt, and the spider was perched on his shoulder, its pedipalps waving in agitation.
Perseus narrowed his eyes. "What did you say?"
Alec shook his head. "I just got the worst feeling. I think something really bad has happened downtown."
"Care to be more specific?" Mitra asked.
Alec shook his head again. "I can't."
"A lot of bloody help you are, then," Mitra grumbled.
"You're just making friends all over the place," Victoria told him.
Mitra just shrugged. "I'm not really here to make them. I'm nearly three thousand years old; I think I have enough friends."
Before Victoria could retort, Perseus asked, "Alec, what do you mean? Is there something outside? An enemy nearby perhaps?"
Alec shook his head. "No. No, I don't think so. Its kind of a vague feeling... almost an impression." He gripped the handle of one of his pistols in frustration. "Fuck. What good is spider-sense if it doesn't work?"
Without looking at her, Perseus placed one hand on Victoria's shoulder and eased her back onto the couch. "All right," he said to the Wraith. "Why don't you join us in here? We can wait for the others together."
Alec stared at Perseus for a moment. The spider hopped from his shoulder to the top of his head, obviously agitated. "I don't think so," Alec said. "I think I need to get out of here, go see what's going on outside..."
Perseus muttered darkly under his breath and stepped around the couch, walking towards the Wraith. "Okay, okay. I see what's bothering you. You're just worried about Rachel. I'm worried too. But believe me, Selura can take care of them both. I'm sure everything is all right."
Alec shook his head, and the spider clung to his hair to keep from being dislodged. "No, it isn't that. I mean, it isn't just that." The Wraith was about to explain further, but the four of them heard the front door bang open, and felt the cold air from the outside rush into the house.
"Hold that thought," Perseus said, stepping around Alec and into the front hall. He saw Hazard crossing the threshold, weighted down by two duffle bags and stamping snow loose from his feet. "Need a hand?" Perseus called.
The Vampire replied in the negative, and then made his way down the hall, swinging the duffle bags in each hand.
Pushing past Perseus, the Hazard stepped into the living room and casually tossed a dufflebag towards Alec. Alec tried to catch it, but it was much heavier than he anticipated, and the bag slipped from his fingers to crash on the floor.
"Nice catch!" Mitra offered. Alec gave him a black look.
"How did it go?" Perseus asked Hazard.
"It was terrible," Hazard groused, setting the remaining bag on the floor. "Wading through snow is not my idea of a good time. If it was, I'd be hanging out in Toronto or Montreal instead of New Orleans."
"Not quite what I meant," Perseus said. "Did you get everything on the list? Did the Jamaican co-operate?"
Hazard smiled broadly, revealing his prominent canines. "You betcha, Perse. He was most helpful."
Alec paused as he opened the bag at his feet. "You didn't hurt him, did you?"
Hazard waived a hand in a perfunctory gesture. "Hardly. I just prevailed upon his generosity." Hazard reached into his jacket, and pulled out the two bags of gold Perseus had given him with which to pay the Jamaican. "Here you go, Percy."
Perseus took the bags with a wince. "Ah, thanks, Michael. I appreciate the gesture, although I assure you it was unnecessary." Hazard shrugged.
Alec shook his head and disgust, and opened the dufflebag. He reached in and pulled out a long leather coat that had been jammed into the bag.
"What is this?" he asked.
Hazard allowed himself a brief chuckle. "The Jamaican 'thought' you might need a new coat, Serpico. The better to hide your Uzis with." Alec looked at Hazard dubiously, but tried the garment on. It fit perfectly.
Victoria whistled appreciatively. "You look dangerous." She stepped over to the bag herself, and reached inside "What goodies did you bring me?" She pulled out a dangerous looking sub-machine gun, with a snub nose and a folding stock. "A 9mm MP5?" Victoria said with an arched eyebrow.
"Did you get the armor piercing shells I asked for? I don't want these bullets bouncing off anything's skin."
"Don't worry, kid, it's all in there. Some extras, too. Turns out the Jamaican had a couple dozen grenades he 'felt' he could part with." Hazard's smile widened, if that were possible.
"Grenades?" Alec said. "Cool."
"Don't get all Beavis on me, kid," Victoria grumbled. "We have to take inventory, clean and oil these weapons, and load them up." She grabbed a bag and lifted it with a grunt.
"Want some help?" Perseus asked, though he knew the answer.
"No." Victoria took a step, and then heaved the bag through the air and onto the couch, narrowly missing Mitra. The Hindu slid of the couch and dropped into a chair. "Smart move," Vic commented.
Perseus spared a glance at the Wraith. The boy looked uncomfortable, almost as if he were in pain -- which was patently impossible. He turned to Hazard. "Michael, did you see anything unusual downtown? Anything out of the ordinary?"
Hazard's grin slipped a bit. "What didn't I see? The entire city looks like a ghost town. Everything is boarded up and everyone is locked in. It's almost as if the mortals know the end of the world is on the way. Meanwhile, the werewolves and weretigers are having a field day. They're breaking into homes and slaughtering people. The only problem the Lycanthropes are having right now is the attacks they're suffering at the hands of the Gargoyles." Hazard's grin returned to its previous size. "I think the Durus have been waiting for this for a while; they're all armed to the teeth with silver weapons. Even though they're outnumbered and weaker than the Lycanthropes, they appear to be winning. Still, I felt like a bastard, just watching it all happen. I should have done something."
Perseus laid a comforting hand on the Vampire's shoulder. "You're doing your part, Michael. Many will die before this night is through, both the innocent and the damned. But if we succeed, more will be saved."
"I wish I shared your pragmatism, Percy." The Vampire broke away from the Immortal. "Where's Gold?"
"He's in the library," Perseus said. "He doesn't feel comfortable around any of us. And I must admit, the feeling is mutual."
"I'd better check on him," Hazard said. "He's my responsibility."
"Suit yourself. We'll be in here, building Vic and Alec's arsenal. Oh, if you see Jones, send him in here, would you?"
"Sure." The Vampire nodded, and then left to find his most hated enemy, now his ally. Victoria and Alec settled onto the couch to take inventory of their weaponry, and as they pulled items out of the bags, they revealed a startling array of weaponry. A dozen hand guns of various calibers and designs tumbled free, as did two more sub-machine guns, a couple dozen boxes of ammo, and apparently a case of grenades. Victoria muttered constantly about the poor repair of the guns, as she pulled each one apart and proceeded to clean it.
Alec watched her work, for the most part, occasionally hefting a gun in his white hand, almost frightened by the weight of it.
Perseus found his seat again and began to work on his sword once more. What he really needed, of course, was a cigarette. But smoking annoyed Victoria -- something she would never admit, but he could sense it through the bond they shared -- and he knew she felt more comfortable with him around. So he couldn't just go outside and smoke a pack or two.
Hazard returned with Gold and Jones in tow. "They were both in the library, bickering like school children. Something about the location of the Holy Grail."
Jones didn't say a word, but his face was tight, and the scar on his chin was bone white. Gold seemed nonplused, almost relaxed.
Perseus wondered how much of Gold's attitude was an act; was the Vampire concerned at all that he was surrounded by enemies, or was he too arrogant to care?
Jones, just to keep his hands busy and his mouth shut, helped Vic inspect the weapons. Gold found an antique rocking chair and slid into it with a contented sigh.
"So, where is the Grail?" Mitra asked with a grin.
Jones gave him a black look, while Gold just smiled knowingly. "You won't bait me, Hindu," the Vampire said smoothly.
Mitra shrugged. "Worth a try."
Hazard leaned against a book case, looking for all the world like he was relaxed and half asleep. Perseus knew better, though. If Gold or anyone else proved quarrelsome, Hazard would spring into action in less than a heartbeat. The Greek had seen Hazard go from total rest to extreme violence many times in the past.
As his memory was sparked, Perseus looked up from his sword to the Vampire. "Remember Angola?"
"I wish I couldn't," Hazard grunted. He seemed ready to explain further, but he suddenly stiffened. A heartbeat later, Perseus felt the Buzz hum from the base of his spine to the reptilian center of his brain. He dropped the whetstone automatically, and shifted his grip on the shortsword.
Perseus could sense Mitra drawing his own blade, but Perseus didn't look at him. He was getting up and heading for the front door.
Hazard grabbed him by the elbow. "Relax, Perse. It's Selura."
Perseus took a deep breath and tried to release the tension in his muscles. It wasn't happening.
"Selura?" Alec asked. "What about Rachel?"
Hazard's silence did not reassure the Wraith.
Perseus dropped his sword on his seat and stepped into the hall. He headed for the door while a ball of ice started forming in his stomach. The door creaked open, and a burst of frigid air carried Selura and wisps of snow into the house.
She looked ragged and frightened. Without a word, Perseus gathered her up in his arms and held her. At first she stiffened, but gradually she fell against him and held onto him as tightly as she could. She buried her face in his shoulder, and he could feel her body shake as she wept. He hugged her close and whispered soothing words.
When it seemed she had calmed down, Perseus asked softly, "What happened?"
Selura told him, speaking into his shoulder and his neck, trying to tell him everything as dispassionately as she could. She mentioned Gordon and Lamont, Jones' friends from the Mystery Council. The Scarecrow. Rachel's death. Gordon rescuing her from the fiend, and Gordon's probable demise. The awakening of the Wyrm.
When she was done, he pulled her up and looked directly into her crystal blue eyes, now red from crying. "Are you all right?"
She nodded weakly, and released him. He kissed her gently on her forehead, and she took his hand. "Go in," he told her. "I think Hazard already knows; he'll tell the others. I'll be with you in a minute."
She nodded, and seemed to steel herself. "You okay?" she asked, almost a whisper. With a nod, he lied. She stepped past him to join the others in the living room, and he opened the front door and walked outside.
The cold hit him like a wall, and he his knees almost buckled at the extreme drop in temperature. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, and lit it with his Zippo. And he tried very hard not to think about Rachel Van Horn, but the more he tried to ignore them, the faster the memories came to him.
He first met her nearly seven years ago. She was a student at LSU, when he was teaching a few courses on art history. Her psychic abilities were just beginning to blossom then, but right away she noticed there was something different about this "Nicholas Covenant" who taught Fine Arts 117B. And when her past caught up with her -- her brothers and their mad crusade -- it was Mr. Covenant who managed to save her. When she found out his secret, she wasn't frightened, or outraged, or shocked. She understood.
Such a sweet, sweet girl. Harmless and beautiful.
And crushed, like a rose.
For the past two hours, Alec had been edgy and agitated. The spider had sensed something happening elsewhere, though the feeling was vague and undefined, and the images transferred into Alec's mind from the spiders were even less sure. All Alec knew was that something terrible and monstrous had occurred.
But with such a vague feeling nagging at the frayed ends of his mind, he couldn't go to his new allies and discuss it. He knew that the pragmatic Perseus would grumble and mutter something darkly sarcastic, while the Vampire would probably laugh at him outright. Eventually, though, the feeling of foreboding grew too strong to ignore, and he blurted it out, hoping that some one of them could understand.
No one did, of course. And it had been Mitra who had mocked him, while the Greek actually seemed interested. But when the Vampire showed up, Alec's misgivings were dismissed, forgotten by all but him.
Until Selura showed up.
She didn't even have to look to Hazard, to silently ask him to explain.
Alec knew immediately what had happened. It was as if a window opened in his mind, and through it he saw Rachel. And her death.
Hazard's stilted explanation was redundancy personified. Alec *knew* what Selura had seen, as surely as if he had seen it himself. And he knew, too, that the nagging doubts about his own existence, doubts that had bothered him for weeks, were washed away. No more did he wonder why a man who had hated life so much would return from the other side to avenge his death. He wasn't here to seek justice for his own murder. Never had been.
He was here to exact cold vengeance for Rachel.
The Scarecrow, the Fool, and the Gohlem were his targets.
When Hazard fell silent, everyone else in the room did as well. Selura stood by the Vampire, her emotions hidden under a newly constructed mask. Jones looked haunted, as if some demon from his past had returned. Mitra's mocking grin had disappeared, replaced by a more serious expression. Victoria fidgeted with the gun in her hand, while Alec's dazed look gradually solidified into grim determination. Gold kept his mouth shut.
They heard a crash as the front door slammed closed once more, and a short while later, Perseus appeared in the doorway.
"Bran isn't back yet," he said. "I am beginning to suspect the worst. Selura, Mitra, get your gear. We're going downtown."
Mitra nodded and rose to his feet smoothly, sheathing his sword within the folds of his long coat. Selura reached out and grabbed Perseus' hand. He gripped it tightly.
"I'm coming with you," Alec said, gathering up grenades.
Perseus' brow darkened. "What about your killers, The Narrow Cult?"
"They don't matter," Alec said thickly. "They never did. I'm not here for them; I thought I was, but I was wrong. I didn't come back of my own volition. Someone brought me back; the want me to deal with the Horsemen."
"Gabrial," Hazard muttered under his breath. "You wily old bastard."
Perseus looked at the Vampire sharply, and then at the Wraith. His expression did not soften. "I'm not sure I understand. No matter. We're leaving in ten minutes. Get ready."
The Greek turned to Hazard. "You and Kurt are in charge of the raid on Franklin Enterprises." Hazard nodded.
"I'll go warm up my jeep," Mitra said, brushing past the others in the doorway. At Perseus' silent urging, Selura followed suit. Alec continued to gather up various bits of weaponry, while Victoria scolded him for taking so much. Hazard picked up the tube Selura had brought, the tube that contained the architectural plans for the Franklin Enterprises building, and took a seat. Perseus left them, and headed upstairs to get his jacket.
At the top of the stairs, he found Kurt and Shelly waiting for them.
Kurt was clad in only shorts, while Shelley had a sheet wrapped around her.
Perseus allowed himself a brief smile, while at the same time cursing the undead hide of the telepathic Vampire in his living room.
"You weren't going to leave without saying good-bye, were you?" Kurt asked, a little out of breath. Perseus shook his head. "Well, it was awfully nice of Michael to warn us anyway."
"Where are we going?" Shelley asked.
"*We* are going nowhere, young lady," Perseus said. "Where I'm headed is not a place for untested Immortals." Shelley's face crumpled, and Perseus felt a twinge of conscience. "I want you to stick close to Kurt. He'll need your help," he added, a bit lamely.
Shelley mastered herself, and tugged the edges of the sheet higher, as if to armor herself. "You're not coming back, are you." It wasn't a question; it was an accusation.
Perseus, startled, looked to Kurt for support, but saw the same hurt in his eyes that he saw in Shelley's. He took a deep breath and leaned against the balustrade. "No, I'm not. This is the final battle, Shelley. And nothing is more final than death. One way or another, I will die tonight."
Kurt shook his head. "The Perseus I know would kick your ass for saying something like that."
Perseus sighed. "Kurt... I'm over two thousand, five hundred years old. I've led a full life. I've been preparing for this day for centuries. I'm not giving in; I'm not giving up. I will fight until my last breath. But I do not lie when I say I expect to draw that last breath tonight."
"Not if Hazard and I stop the Cult before you do what you need to do. If we stop the summoning... dammit Perseus, I just got you back. You can't leave me now!"
Perseus stepped up onto the landing and pulled Kurt into a tight embrace. He let him go, and stepped back. "Don't let your emotions blind you, Revenant. There are things greater than our friendship, though it may not seem that way to you or I. We will always be brothers, Kurt."
Kurt cleared his throat. "I won't fail you."
Perseus nodded. "I didn't expect you to." He turned to Shelley, who looked very fragile and afraid to Perseus now. The set of her shoulders and the look in her eyes should have told him differently, but all he could see when he looked at her was Rachel, and all the little girls he had failed. He didn't want to fail this one.
"I meant it, Shelley. Stay close to Kurt. Keep an eye on him, and remember what I taught you. And watch your head." She reached for him, and he held her too, and tried to reassure her.
Perseus went out into the winter, with his sword sharp and strong, and he thought of the words of his people, the exhortations of Sparta's mothers.
"Return with your shield in your hand, or upon it."
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PoT_Ch36.php -- Revised: January 27, 2021.