Blackthorne (The Brotherhood of the Gate Book 1) (34 page)

Nearby, two men in flannel shirts and barn jackets carefully opened a wriggling burlap sack the pair held gingerly between them. The tie to the sack was a leather cord from which a crucifix dangled. The religious symbol gave off blue sparks every time it came into contact with the bag. The bag itself was embroidered with a variety of symbols and appeared to be very old. It seemed catching demons in bags might have been a fun pastime for someone in the past. “I told you there were gremlins in the woods, Earl. My great-grand pappy hunted stray ones for years after the little varmints burned the town down in 1898. Gramps said he was truly sad when they all finally got hunted down. There wasn’t nothin fun to hunt no more.”

The other man peered into the bag and jumped back when a small, clawed hand snatched at his face. “Shit.”

Pam turned to face Rhi. “How come all of the crazy people always want to be with us?”

“You have to ask?” she replied, relieved in her heart that Pam was able to smart off, even if it was just a little. She surveyed the crowd. “Don’t be dissing my people, Pam. They are about to take on a demon storm and don’t look particularly worried about it. They might as well be facing ‘Biker Day’ at the casinos.”

“Don’t be underestimating ‘Biker Day.’ It is pretty bad,” Pam said. “And Rhi?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

Rhi was momentarily taken aback. “For what? Getting people killed and your daughter snatched by an overdressed Alistair Crowley wannabe?”

“There is that. But when push comes to shove, most women would have headed for the nearest hole, jumped in and pulled it in behind her. Katie is the only thing I have produced in this life that is truly worthwhile and I’ll take on a demon storm for her. I’m glad you’re going to take it on with me.” She gave her a weak smile.

Nearby, the two men with what was obviously a demon in their bag were delving into a serious discussion about the possibility of having the demon’s head mounted, much to the distress of the demon in the bag, which started to whine loudly. Steven, who had stood nearby in awed silence, watching the bag jump on its own, suddenly regained his cheer.

“Okay girls. Let’s get a picture while Pam is in her cammos and Rhi is in her…wearing ski pants and hiking boots to a battle is so pedestrian, girl. You should at least be wearing leather.” He pulled out a digital camera and began to shoot the pair.

Blackthorne returned, openly carrying his sword in a sheath across his back, his gun over one shoulder. His crisp, black fatigues contrasted wildly with the rest of the motley crowd’s scratched together battle wear.

“This is what I am talking about, Rhi.
Look
at this guy. And what about
her
.” The slim pit boss’ face had taken on the reverent glow he usually saved for discussions about Cher or Barbara Streisand. Pearl had arrived.

Blackthorne glowered and took his place to the right of Rhi.

“Everyone is moving into the respective locations,” he reported. “The locals will be holding back, hiding on the back streets until they get the signal to defend the town. A few groups will be in and around the houses near the cemetery to back us up with Bobby Wayne. Colonel Douglas will be in a truck in the driveway of one of the houses off Teller One, ready to swoop in and get Katie as soon as we get our hands on her and get her out of there. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

Rhi had not told anyone but Pam the extent of her plans and had even left one important element out from her explanation to her friend. “I can’t explain it all but keep whatever is up there busy once all Hell breaks loose. Especially your brother. Shoot him, stab him, garrote him, but keep him away from me and the gate once we get Katie away from him.”

Pearl worked the crowd, tastefully dressed in brown suede pants and a sheepskin-lined parka. She openly glided through the hall with her grandson trailing along behind her, greeting many of the locals by name. It was obvious they all knew the identity of the woman.

“So much for anonymity, huh? Why didn’t anyone in town share these secrets, such as their own immortal madam and hunting demons in the woods, with me?” Pam complained.

Bobby Wayne jumped up on the hotel’s counter and whistled to get the attention of the assembled crowd. The grizzled man was in his element and enjoying himself immensely. “Okay. We all know where we have to be and we all know what has to happen. The storm is about to break outside so hopefully that will keep whoever is left uninformed and stupid in the casinos inside. Even though we’ll probably not be able to see the moon rise because of the snowstorm, be prepared for action at 0600. Until then, be in place by 0300. Any other locals or visitors you can possibly convince to leave before then, please do so. This is probably not going to be a good place to be, come nightfall.”

“What about the graveyard, Bobby? Who’s covering the place where this shindig is gonna start?” One of the men struggling with the sack full of demon called to him.

Bobby Wayne’s face turned vicious. “These boys from the Brotherhood.” He waved a hand at the assembled knights. “Some of you, whom I have already put into my group, and Rhi and Pam will handle the graveyard. I might have a few other surprises in store for the varmints as well. Be sure of this: if they get past us into town, we will do our best to whittle them down somewhat.”

A cheer rang through the room and the crowd began to disperse. Crazy Betty, on her way out the door, suddenly turned and grabbed Rhi’s arm in a talon-like hand. Blackthorne and Pam both moved as one toward the old woman but Rhi held up a hand for calm.

“Is there something you wanted to say to me, Betty?”

The older woman smiled and her face suddenly revealed the remnants of what had been a great beauty in spite of the wrinkled skin and yellowed teeth in her mouth.

“Don’t be afraid. Hell cannot hold the pure of heart, child.”

She turned and pirouetted busily away, leaving Rhi behind to stare at the retreating form.

“I can’t believe anyone sold that woman a gun.”

“You won’t be going anywhere near Hell so that won’t be a problem, will it Rhi?” Blackthorne towered over her, his face split with worry and anger.

“No, Blackie, I won’t be going near Hell,” Rhi replied in a whisper, for the first time using her lover’s nickname. A glimmer of hope burned for a moment and she pushed the thought away. She didn’t dare to hope for anything.

Outside the windows, the afternoon sky was dark with storm clouds as the group slowly moved toward their vehicles. Snowflakes as large as casino tokens began to slowly fall.

»»•««

The mausoleum in the back corner of the Mt. Pisgah graveyard was truly beautiful, Rhi decided as she examined the dead brush that obscured the building in the summer. Built entirely of imported rose-colored marble, the neo-classical building was adorned with small fluted columns. Dug into the hillside, the building was barely visible to passersby on the road. She paused for a moment beside a recessed shelf that held a small bust of a slender, doe-eyed girl. She shook her head, hard. She could hear the collective breath of the group behind her being held, waiting to see when she would break, as brittle as a coffee mug that has been microwaved one too many times.

“Keys?” she asked without looking up into his face.

Blackthorne silently handed her an old-fashioned iron key on a giant metal ring. The lock on Raven Blackthorne’s crypt snapped open as easily as the door to Rhi’s home. Rhi turned back to face the circle of knights who surrounded her. Pam, loaded down with packs, and Ellie Mae stood off to one side, a little closer than the men. The dog and the woman were the only beings Rhi trusted completely at this moment.

“It’s nowhere near the time for sunset yet, even though we can’t see it through these damned clouds. I would like a few minutes alone, please. Except for Pam and Ellie.” Rhi knew this would wound Blackthorne but couldn’t bring herself to care at the moment. A bigger wound was in store for him later today, and for her as well. She had been holding back the coming storm for most of the day, allowing it to swell and grow above the town. When finally unleashed, the storm would be a weapon itself. She felt as though her mind was holding up the sky and the sky was not happy about it. There was no room left in her to be gentle with Blackthorne.

He hovered near, ignoring her request, as the other knights took up positions farther out from the gate. Out of the corner of her eye she tried to catch a glimpse of Bobby Wayne and the men under his command. They were nowhere to be seen. But Rhi had the feeling the Mt. Pisgah Cemetery was in for some kind of fireworks show that evening. Bobby Wayne did love his demolitions training. The snow in several places near the site looked suspiciously well groomed, as if someone had smoothed it down purposefully.

“Okay Rhi, I have followed your lead blindly all day. It is about time you trust me. What are you planning?” His eyes flashed with neon blue light, betraying his emotions. He towered over her as she stood by her last final resting place. A part of her ached to see the hurt in his face, but another part hardened.

Her own eyes snapped with their own blue light. “I don’t know how you guys sneak up on anyone when your eyes glow every time you’re pissed off. Trust you? You’ve lied to me from the first day I met you in a field in the Garden of the Gods over a hundred years ago. You trust me first.”

Pam walked over and placed the barrel of her gun against his unshaven cheek. “I think she said she needs some time alone, sweet cheeks.”

With a heated glance, he stalked away to lean against a Woodsmen of the World tombstone. “Well? Go ahead. Nobody’s stopping you. But I’d hold off on getting that thing out of that Bible until your hostage arrives…but then that’s just a suggestion to keep Pam’s daughter alive.”

“Jerk,” Pam said as she re-holstered her pistol and turned to where Rhi was struggling with the huge iron door.

“Let’s see how many nasty names we can call him later, okay? Never mind, help me get this thing opened,” Rhi said as the first snowflake hit her nose. “I can’t hold back the storm much longer.”

On cue, the heavy door fell open. A musty mixture of scents: sulfur, dust, and death, hit them instantly.

Down three steps, Rhi stood for a moment and allowed her eyes to adjust to the gloom. An icy chill seeped through her heavy clothing into her bones. Ellie Mae padded around her legs to inspect the dusty, not-quite empty room. It was a perfect box, dimly lit in the daytime by tiny windows near the ceiling. The dog cocked her head and tottered toward where a coffin stood on a stone pedestal, which she inspected with her sensitive nose for a moment. Then, with a deep sigh, Ellie did three turns before curling up against a column nearby.

Behind her, Pam turned on the battery-powered lamp in her hand and exposed the room to harsh electric light. Both women gasped in amazement.

“Okay, this is not too bad.” Pam whispered grudgingly as she examined the crypt. Off to one side stood the stone pedestal topped by an elaborately carved mahogany coffin. A simple brass plaque on the side announced the name of the occupant, Raven Blackthorne.

Four huge iron torch holders with accompanying torches lined the side walls. The back wall was dominated by the façade of a huge gate, outlined in gold and iron, covered in jewels, runes, and pictographs that told the story of the gates and the inevitable fate of those who dared tamper with the order of the universe in such a careless fashion.

“I can’t believe no one’s tried to ransack this place in all of these years. The crap on
that
gate is worth more than the combined wealth of the entire town,” Pam said as she lit the torches, bathing the room in a golden glow.

“It has been broken into,” Rhi remarked as she carefully placed her backpack on the floor and dug into one of the other packs. Triumphant, she arose with a crowbar in hand and headed for the coffin. “Blackthorne would feel thieves breaking in and pop in to gut them. Their bones are probably scattered all over these mountains. But that picture on the wall is not the gate, it’s the doorway into the hill to the tunnel that leads to the gate.”

The other woman stared at her in horror. “You can really pick ’em, kid, that’s all I have to say.
What
the hell are you doing? There is no way you are opening your own sarcophagus. This is so Freudian.”

The witch/vampire/blackjack dealer was busily prying opened her coffin.

An outraged expression on her long face, Ellie Mae got up grumbling and came to sit on her haunches nearby, facing the front door to the crypt.

“Shut up and help me open it. Manius won’t let us bring shit in here when we make the exchange. I want this close and accessible. We might get lucky. He might screw up before we ever go down to the big gate below. And he’ll never believe that I’d have the nerve to put anything in my own coffin. So the holy bomb goes in here. And my sword, your machete and how about a few guns? What do you think?”

“I think it scares the crap out of me that Bobby Wayne got one of these things so easily and he lives right down the road from me, is what I think. Oh Hell, stuff it full, your other self was teeny from what everyone says and she is too dead to notice a little radiation. There should be plenty of room,” said Pam heartlessly as she joined her at the coffin to help lift the lid. “You open the gate, go
inside
and set the bomb to close up the gate? How are you getting back out?”

Rhi didn’t meet her friend’s eyes. “I
am
fairly powerful now, Pam. I’ll get back out before it blows. The gate’s invulnerable from the outside but from the inside…it’ll crumple like a napkin from a fast food restaurant. Especially with this thing Bobby Wayne came up with and yes, it is scary he got this on such short notice. You might want to inspect his barn at some point in the near future for safety’s sake.”

“What if Manius kills my daughter because you stuffed this in here?”

“He won’t touch Katie or make her mad. He needs her to open the gate. A young child is always pure of heart enough to open the gate. The ancients used kids all of the time…lying to them and threatening their families to get them to open the gates to Hell itself,” she replied, focusing on the widening crack in the coffin. Her own heart lurched at the sound of wood splintering somewhere in the back of the coffin. “It’s coming.”