Hellgate London - Exodus Part 15

Jonas gestured. The polyhedron slowly stood on point, rising up. It glowed with inner lavender light that spilled over the faces of the crowd.

"For a time the Eye was brought to Venice at the request of Giovanni di Bicci de' Medici," Jonas continued. "His bank had a client who wanted the Eye. No one knows who the client was, but Sultan Mehmet, known as the Conqueror, sacked Constantinople in 1453 and reclaimed the Eye. He attempted to call upon its powers during his battle with Vlad Tepes, also called the Impaler." At another gesture, the polyhedron began to spin like a coin.

"The Eye vanished in Wallachia for hundreds of years," Jonas said, "and was only brought to light again six years ago when an archeological find uncovered it. I strove for three years to recover it for the Cabal."

From the corner of his eye, Warren suddenly saw blood on Jonas's hand. When Warren breathed in, he smelled death, and he had no doubts about what it had taken for Jonas to acquire the talisman.

"Before the h.e.l.lgates opened, I tried several times to use the Eye," Jonas said. "My attempts before the invasion met with little success. I've been getting better, but I've still not gotten the Eye to open."

The Eye spun so quickly it became a blur. Buzzing filled Warren's ears. A pleasant sensation, like steeping in a tub of hot water in a cold room, filled him.

"With you here, with your power present, I hope to surpa.s.s everything I've managed in the past." Warren stared at the flashing polyhedron spinning on the floor.

"Saladin's journals contain references to the Eye," Jonas said. "With it, he claimed to be able to see the demon he had fought for possession of the Eye. Concentrate on the Eye. Will it to open. Let us see what we may." His voice had turned soft and hypnotic.

Barely noticing Jonas's voice, Warren concentrated on the Eye. But it didn't take long for him to realize that he truly didn't have to concentrate because it waspulling at him. He wanted to ask if Jonas experienced the same thing, but he found he couldn't move.

Silver light flared from the uppermost point of the Eye. But it stopped only three feet up instead of reaching the ceiling or diffusing.

Excitement flared through Warren again, but it was quickly tempered by the cold wave that pervaded the room. From the corner of his eye, he saw the frost forming on the walls, covering over the sigils and symbols that had been drawn there. A moment later fissures opened up in the walls. Wind rose out of nowhere and whirled around the room.

Some of the Cabalists abandoned their places, scooting back or standing. "Stay!" Jonas roared. "Stay where you are!"

Warren wanted to move. He knew he should move. But he couldn't. He sat there like he was made of stone, staring into the Eye.

And he felt certain that the Eye was staring back at him. More of the Cabalists fell back, breaking ranks carefully.

"Stay!" Jonas yelled again. "You will stay here and help us maintain contact!"

Warren had no idea what the man would do if the Cabalists didn't do as he told them to. But Warren wasn't really interested in that. He was more interested in the Eye.

"It's him," someone whispered. "He's doing this."

"We've never done this before." "He's going to get us killed."

"No one is going to be killed!" Jonas roared. "We've trained for this. We're stronger than the demons. We own the Eye. Concentrate on your wards. You will be safe."

Warren felt the resistance to his gaze. It felt like he was asleep and trying to get his eyes open during a dream and couldn't. He redoubled his efforts, willing the resistance to go away.

Molten agony lanced through his body. Before he knew what he was doing, Warren was kneeling on the floor, hands flat before him.

"Who are you, human?" a deep, terrible voice demanded.

Fear gripped Warren's heart then. He felt as scared then-You'll never be that scared again!-as he did the night his parents died.

"Speak!" the deep voice ordered. "Warren," he whispered.

"Do you want to die?" "No. I want to live."

"Then you're on a fool's errand."

Barely aware of the rest of the room and the fact that the Cabalists were in shock around him, Warren stared at the Eye. Heat raged through him, like the worst fever he'd ever had.

"You have no business here," the voice said. "Who are you?" Jonas asked.

The light at the top of the Eye flared out into an elliptical shape that kept shifting. The shape was silver as well, but hints of blue figures moved within its depths.

"Arrogance," the deep voice said. "One of the few admirable human emotions. At least it has strength to it, unearned though it may be."

"I am Jonas Wayne. A Voice among the Cabal. You will obey me." Raucous laughter filled the room, pealing from the walls.

Warren shivered, fearing for his life. His mother had gone on at length about learning to speak with "friendly" ghosts, but the voice that spoke through the Eye sounded purely evil.

"I obey no human."

"I command you to name yourself!" Jonas shouted. His tattoos burned with amber light.

Warren knew that names traditionally were supposed to give power over a demon. But since he'd never had a true interaction with a demon-especially one of this creature's caliber-he wasn't so sure that was true.

The silver ellipse cleared like a tri-dee with an improved signal. A face, blunt and harsh as a lizard's, covered in red scales and showing scars from past battles, stared back.

"I am Merihim, the Bringer of Pestilence," the demon roared. "Before me, you are nothing."

Growing larger, the silver ellipse showed the demon astride some great beast that didn't fit in the view. It looked vaguely like an elephant covered in scales the size of manhole covers and with ma.s.sive, curved horns.

Merihim raised his right hand, holding tight to a trident made of green metal that crackled with energy. Shimmering waves pa.s.sed through the silver ellipse.

Gripped by an invisible hand, Jonas was raised from the floor. He screamed, high and shrill like a woman. He wasn't in control of the situation or of himself. Futilely, he beat his hands against the force that surrounded him. He tried to move his legs and couldn't.

A moment later, Jonas jackknifed like he'd been twisted and bent. His back folded backwards. Bones snapped and shattered.

The Cabalists who were gathered around the circle leaped to their feet and started for the doors. The doors swung shut, trapping them inside. They started crying and pleading for mercy.

Edith made a show of trying to regroup them, but it was a lost cause. Warren felt the fear rolling off her in waves.

The woman ran to Jonas, taking a dagger from beneath her robe. Even from across the room with all the magic already present in the room, Warren felt the power that radiated from the curved blade. It had an Eastern cast to it, like a scimitar.

With his free hand, Merihim gestured again. Immediately demons that looked like gargantuan hounds leaped through the portal and landed in the room. They snarled and snapped, flailing spiked tails.

"I'd been held back so far," the demon said. "Thanks to you, I no longer have to wait for the h.e.l.lgates."

He caught the edges of the magical window and heaved himself through.

Standing in the room, the demon's horned head sc.r.a.ped against the ceiling. He had to have been at least eight feet tall. Ma.s.sively thewed, he was as sculpted and built as a dedicated weight lifter. He wore blue-green armor made of lizard scales. A huge sword was belted at his waist.

"No!" Edith shrilled. She threw her hands out before her and pushed. Waves of shimmering force broke across Merihim's chest.

The demon rocked back silently, then grinned. "Not bad. For a human. But you've no true mastery of the forces you wield." His face looked hideous. "I'll show you power." He gestured with the trident again.

Jonas screamed even though Warren wouldn't have believed the man would have had the capacity to do so. His tattoos burned golden, so bright that Warren almost couldn't stand to look at them. Then, in a twinkling, they turned an angry red, the color of sunset over a dust-filled horizon.

Impossibly, Jonas.e.xploded. Pieces of him flew all over the room.

Warren was. .h.i.t by the gore, then realized how hot it was and had to claw the pieces from his body. He mopped the blood as best as he could from his body.

Giving a strangled cry, Edith lurched toward the demon. Warren was certain she knew she was going to her doom, but she didn't hesitate.

Casually, as if the act were nothing, Merihim flicked his trident at her. The three p.r.o.ngs pierced the woman's chest and propelled her back across the room, pinning her against the wall like an insect on display.

Edith struggled weakly to pull the trident from her chest.

Merihim spoke in a language that Warren didn't understand. Instantly flames engulfed Edith, consuming her and leaving only a stain of black soot on the wall.

The demon spoke again, and the smaller demons launched themselves at the Cabalists. Their claws and fangs tore into the flesh of the men and women who had gathered in the room.

The top floor of the building had become a madhouse. Death filled the room with the stench of blood and burned flesh.

Finding himself suddenly free of whatever had held him, Warren ran toward one of the nearest windows. Maybe the demon's powers had locked all the doors, but if he had to he was willing to throw himself through the window. He thought there was a fire escape below, though.

"Where are you going?" the demon snarled.

Although he knew the demon was talking to him, Warren ignored Merihim and ran for his life. He skirted one of the hound-demons as it disemboweled a man.

At the window, Warren didn't pause. He threw himself into it, one arm over his face to protect his eyes.

He hit the gla.s.s and broke through.

Seventeen.

Everything became a confusing whirl of action. Then it stopped. Suspended by the demon's spell, Warren stared down at the snow-covered alley below him. He knew he would probably have died when he hit bottom, but it was preferable to whatever the demon intended. But that was no longer an option.

Unable to move, he floated back into the room. When he was once more in the room, he looked around and saw that fires had started in several places. Hardly any of the humans remained alive.

The demon stared at Warren. "You're unusual," Merihim stated. "Why do you wield so much power?" Warren thought he was too scared to answer, but he found his mouth opening and heard himself saying, "I don't know."

"You humans only had a little power when we first came here," Merihim said. "You believed-truly believed-in so few things until we showed ourselves."

When you look into the eyes of evil,Warren thought,it's not something you easily forget. The demon laughed. "Do you think I'm evil, human?" he asked.

"Yes," Warren replied before he could stop himself.

"I'm not evil, I'm powerful." Merihim held out a hand and set it on fire for a moment. The flames seemed to caress his skin. "Power defines good and evil. The spoils go to the victor. That's the way it's always been. It's not going to be any different this time." He paused. "But I would know more about you."

Warren remained silent, gazing into the malevolent eyes. He gathered all his strength, all that energy that he sometimes used to detect lies and influence others. He focused it on the demon, preparing to strike with everything he had.

But he couldn't help thinking that it would have been better if he'd understood more about what he was attempting to do. Or if he believed he could do it.

The hound-demons gathered at their master's feet. Upon closer and prolonged exposure, Warren realized the hound-demons were more human than beast-like. Keen intelligence glowed in their lemon-yellow eyes.

"What are you thinking, worm?" Merihim asked.

Knowing he'd never get another chance, floating in the air while under the demon's spell, Warren unleashed everything inside him at Merihim. The demon was blown backward by the onslaught, staggering back into the silver portal created by the Eye.

As Warren watched, Merihim fellthrough the portal, pulled by whatever mystic forces were in play there.

In the next instant, Warren was released from the demon's spell and fell to the floor. Immediately, he tried to push himself up, aware that the Eye was closing the portal.

Now all he needed to do was avoid the hound-demons. Some of them were hopping into the portal with their master.

"Human!" Merihim snarled from the other side of the portal. He pointed with his trident.

Flames shot from the tines, leaping out of the portal and slamming into Warren. Bowled over by the swirling ma.s.s of fire, Warren smashed through the window behind him and started the eight-story drop.

There was no spell to catch him this time.

As he fell, he was grimly aware that he was going to die. He was afraid to open his mouth to scream, afraid that he'd breathe in the flames that clung to him.

When he hit bottom, he landed in inches of snow. But even that didn't blunt the force of the landing. His head struck the pavement and everything went black.

Hours later, Warren's eyes flickered open. Pain filled his world. He realized he wasn't breathing, so he took a breath. He didn't know if he'd been breathing before, but he felt the need to now.

Light filled the world. It was daytime. He'd slept-or been unconscious-throughout the night. He breathed again, certain something was broken inside his chest. His head spun and everything turned black again. His last thought was that he surely must be dead now.

Only he awoke again.

The pain was less, but he managed it better. When the broken bones grated inside his chest, he could bear the ripping agony without pa.s.sing out.

His clothing was sodden from melting snow, proving that his body held heat. Another-if unbelievable-proof that he still yet lived.

He also grew aware of the fact that his feet were bare. Someone had stolen his boots while he was unconscious. Weakly, he cursed whoever did it and hoped the demons got him or her, then Warren had to wonder why the demons hadn't gotten him.

Moving slowly, he raised his left arm up in front of his face. It was numb. He thought it was from lying in the snow.

Instead he saw that he had probably suffered nerve damage from the intense burns that covered his arm. They were definitely third-degree. Black patches of charcoaled flesh showed bright red blood and pink meat in the cracks.

Grimly, he realized the nerve damage was probably a blessing. Without it he would be in agony. As it was, pain covered him from head to toe.

It took Warren an hour to get to his feet. He knew that because he timed himself, peering through the heatcracked crystal of his watch. It was 10:43 in the morning.

Conserving his strength, Warren leaned back against the wall and took a few deep breaths. He hadn't been able to use his arm. He still couldn't. It hung numb and useless against his side.

More burns covered his other arm, chest, stomach, and legs. From the stiffness that froze his features in places, he guessed that his face had been burned as well. The smell of burned hair filled his nostrils and made him sick for a moment. He threw up, but it was only a thin, sour gruel.