Authors: George Mann
“I see it now,” said Ginny. “I’ve been such a
fool
. He’s always been Thoth. Ever since I first met him. It must have happened out there, in the desert, when they first found the temple in the sands.”
“Then the complex he’s building here,” said Astrid, “it’s not to resurrect him.”
“It’s to give him power,” said Ginny.
Thoth’s voice boomed in a guttural tongue that Gabriel could not decipher. The sound of it seemed to make the very ground beneath them rumble. Behind him, Ginny screamed, her hands going to her head as she buckled, falling to her knees.
“No!” she said, her voice a mere whimper. “No.” Her hands had begun to glow with the pale light of elsewhere, and she rose into the air, ribbons of light forming around her trailing arms and legs as she completed her transition into Sekhmet. She hovered in the sky above them, a terrible goddess of death.
Gabriel knew they only had moments to live. Trying to fight was a fool’s errand. They’d be incinerated with a single look. There was only one chance…
“Over here,” he said, running for the colonnade. The light of Thoth guided his way as he hurtled to one of the columns. “Quickly, help me.”
“Help you
what
?” cried Donovan, behind him.
“Help me push it over.
Now
!”
The three of them joined him as he shoved at the column, trying desperately to topple it. He felt it shift, rocking unsteadily on its plinth.
The temperature in the room was rising as Thoth began to boil the air. He was going to cook them alive. Gabriel could already feel it searing the inside of his lungs.
“There! One more push…” He roared as he threw his weight behind it, straining until he felt the muscles in his arms begin to pop. Beside him, Arthur cried out in pain.
The column shook, wobbling unsteadily, and then went over, listing to the left as it fell.
It crashed into the side of the tomb, shattering the wall and sending the crumbling roof into a cataclysmic slide to the ground. Hunks of masonry tumbled to the floor, burying Landsworth’s remains and spilling out onto the marble concourse.
Gabriel dropped to his knees, almost swooning with the rising heat. He saw Sekhmet, her arms raised, two ghostly lions forming in the air around her. As he watched, she turned toward Thoth, and set them free.
The lions roared, surging forward and slamming into the other god’s chest. They burst into pyres of ethereal blue flame, swamping him utterly, as if she’d doused him in petrol and struck a match.
Thoth roared, tumbling from the sky, his ghostly wings beating ineffectually at the air as he fell.
Gabriel didn’t wait to see what he would do next. He was already on his feet. “Go,
now
!” he bellowed.
Behind him, the others scrambled to their feet and ran for the door.
“Ginny! Come on!” He backed away, hoping beyond hope that she would follow him; that there was enough of the woman he loved still left in the apparition to assume control.
She turned, and their eyes met. “Go!” she said. “I’m coming.”
That was good enough. He turned and ran.
“I left her there,” said Gabriel, as he arrived, panting, at the door of Astrid’s church a short while later. “I didn’t see her get out.”
Donovan was standing on the doorstep, smoking a cigarette, and he held up his hand, appealing for calm. “She’s already inside,” he said. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
Gabriel heaved a sigh of relief, leaning forward, his hands on his knees. “I haven’t run like that in years,” he said.
“We took a cab,” said Donovan.
“
What
? You took a cab, after something like that? You actually stopped on a street corner and flagged down a cab?”
Donovan shrugged. He took another draw from his cigarette, and then tossed the butt amidst the gravestones. “We were lucky,” he said. “And we might not be so lucky next time. We’re dabbling in things we don’t understand.”
“We’re protecting our city,” said Gabriel. “The only way we know how. We can’t stop now. That thing won’t let us, even if we wanted to.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” said Donovan. He looked troubled. “Come on. She’ll want to know you’re here. They all will.”
Inside, they’d gathered in the old church hall, righting some of the moldy pews to use as seats. Arthur sat by Astrid, while Ginny was pacing, her fingers drumming excitedly against her chin.
“Ginny?”
“Gabriel!” She seemed brighter than she’d been since they’d found her. He wondered if perhaps the tranquilizers were finally wearing off, but he suspected there was more to it than that. “Did you see? Did you see what I did?”
He nodded, slowly. “I saw. But Felix is right. We can’t get carried away. We caught him off guard.
You
caught him off guard. That doesn’t mean it’s going to be so easy next time. Remember, we still need to get that thing out of you, somehow.”
“That’s just it,” said Ginny. “Astrid doesn’t think we
can
get it out of me. She says I’ve got to learn to control it. What you did back there, destroying that tomb—I feel more like
me
than I have in months.”
Gabriel glanced at Astrid, who shrugged. “She’s right. This isn’t the sort of thing you just wheel out an exorcist for. She has a shard of a
goddess
inside of her. Nothing short of a binding ritual would shake it loose, and there wouldn’t be anything left of her after I’d finished.”
“I can do this, Gabriel. I can take him on. I want revenge on that son of a bitch for what he did to me, and I’m damn well going to get it.”
Gabriel sighed. “This complex. We’re going to have to do to
it
what we’ve just done to that tomb. Only, the complex is underground, and probably full of cultists, not to mention an army of living statues and an angry god. Believe me, I know we’ve got to find a way to end this, but there’s four of us, plus Mullins.” He looked at Arthur. “Forgive me, Arthur, but I’m not putting a gun in your hand and sending you to your death.”
“Fine by me,” said Arthur. “I’ve always seen myself in more of a supporting role.”
He dropped onto one of the pews, looking to Donovan. “I hate to admit it, but I think you’re right. I’m out of ideas. I’ve got nothing.”
Donovan was frowning. “It’s all right. I know what needs to be done.” He pulled a notebook from his jacket pocket and scrawled down an address. “Give me until nine, then meet me here. And call Mullins. Tell him to be there too.”
“Where are
you
going?”
“To get help,” said Donovan. He lit a cigarette, and then turned and left.
“This is a pleasant surprise, Felix. I hadn’t expected to see you back so soon.”
He was standing in the hallway of Paul Abbadelli’s mansion. He’d come alone—not because he didn’t feel the need for backup, but because he didn’t want Mullins to see how far he was about to fall.
“I presume there’s been a development in the case?”
The case
. Donovan found it difficult to believe how Abbadelli could speak so nonchalantly of his murdered lover. “You could say that. Things have progressed somewhat since we last spoke. Consequently, I have a… well, a
proposition
for you.” The words almost stuck in his throat.
Abbadelli grinned, enjoying Donovan’s discomfort. “Oh, now that does sound interesting.” He stepped to one side, ushering Donovan into his study. “You’d better come on through and tell me all about it.”
Donovan swallowed. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to look himself in the mirror again after this, no matter how many times he told himself it was the only option.
He took a seat before Abbadelli’s desk, while the man himself whispered something to Carlos, before joining him and closing the door. He circled his desk, took a cigar from a wooden box, and offered it to Donovan.
Donovan shook his head. “My taste only runs as far as cheap cigarettes,” he said, reaching for his packet.
“Then we shall have to cultivate you,” said Abbadelli. He clipped the end with a gilded cutter, and struck a match. “There’s a great deal of pleasure to be had from the more luxurious things in life, Felix,” he said, between puffs. “You may yet come to realize this.”
“I doubt it,” said Donovan, pulling the ignition tab on his cigarette. He tried not to let Abbadelli see that his hand was trembling as he took a draw.
“So, my information proved useful, then?”
Donovan could hear Gabriel’s warning going around and around inside his head.
Don’t allow him to think you’re in his debt
. What else could he do, though? Here he was, sitting before the man, about to beg him for help. “In a manner of speaking. As I said, things have progressed.”
“You’ve found out where they’re hiding, haven’t you?” said Abbadelli. He perched on the edge of his desk. “The Circle of Thoth.”
Donovan nodded. “In a warren beneath the wasteland you tried to buy. They’ve constructed some kind of complex down there, recreating the footprint of an Ancient Egyptian temple.”
Abbadelli smiled. “So
that’s
why they wouldn’t sell.” He chewed thoughtfully on the end of his cigar. “I must say, Felix, I’m most impressed. And delighted you’ve come to me with this.”
Donovan plumed smoke from the corner of his mouth. “They’re planning something big,” he said. “Tonight. They’re going to make a play for control of the streets, and I have reason to believe their forces are numerous.”
“And so we find ourselves at an impasse, do we not?” said Abbadelli, getting up and pacing the room. “Everyone wants control of the streets. The mob, the cult… I don’t envy you, Felix, caught in the middle. There must be an easier way.”
“I want to stop them,” said Donovan, flatly. “That’s why I’m here.” He was growing impatient with Abbadelli’s games.
“You intend to ferret them out of their warren?”
“I intend to destroy it. Collapse the tunnels. Put an end to whatever they’re doing down there. Only… I don’t have the resources.”
“And I do,” said Abbadelli. He laughed. “You must at least allow me to enjoy the irony. So you’re proposing a partnership?”
“I’m suggesting that our goals might be… temporarily aligned. With your manpower, and your Enforcers, we could take them down for good.” He hated himself even as the words passed his lips.
“And if I agree?” said Abbadelli. “What’s in it for me?”
Donovan frowned. “Revenge against the men who killed your lover. An end to the war you started. One less thorn in your side.”
Abbadelli shrugged. “In time, I shall claim all of those victories regardless. What else?”
Donovan sighed. This was the moment he’d been expecting. There was no turning back from it now. “I’ll be sure to keep my dinner date,” he said.
Abbadelli grinned. “Then we have a deal.” He thrust out his hand. Reluctantly, Donovan took it. This time, he was
certain
he was making a deal with the Devil.
Abbadelli dropped into the chair behind his desk. “All right, Inspector. Tell me what you need.”
“Where
is
he?” said the Ghost, glancing at his watch.
They’d been lurking on the edges of the waste ground for almost half an hour. So far, there was no sign of Donovan. The night was still and quiet, punctuated only by the rumble of distant traffic and the sighing of a cool breeze blowing in off the water.
The Ghost and Mullins had already scouted the area and ascertained that the entrance to the complex was most likely in the basement of the adjoining building—an abandoned wheelwright’s shop that had been boarded up and marked for demolition. They’d yet to explore more closely in fear of alerting the cultists to their presence, so instead had retreated to a safe distance to wait it out. The more time that passed, however, the more anxious the Ghost had become.
They’d spent the afternoon making preparations. Astrid had once again replaced his bandages and inked his body with the intricate swirls and runes of her protective wards, and this time, she’d shown him how to mark his flechettes with icons that she hoped might allow them to breach some of Thoth’s defenses.
Ginny had found two of Astrid’s old pistols, testing them in the church hall for balance and weight. She’d always been something of a sharpshooter, and didn’t appear to have lost any of her skill. She’d placed two bullets through the same hole in an overturned pew, and declared that she was ready to go.
It wasn’t much against a legion of cultists and an ancient god, but it was what they had. They all knew what they were heading into, but none of them were prepared to walk away. They’d be dead, anyway, if Thoth were allowed to rise; they might as well die trying to put him down.
The Ghost had begun pacing. The waste ground really was nothing but a small scrap of scrub—hardly big enough to warrant the animosity and series of scaling reprisals it had engendered between the Reaper and the cult. Of course, whatever was below it was a different matter entirely, and the cult would fight to protect that, no matter the cost.
The Ghost understood that there was more to be read into the Reaper’s intent, too. It had never really been about the scrap of land, for him—it was about dominance and power, just as Astrid had said; about demonstrating he was the biggest player in town, and not allowing any other organizations to grow to a size where they could challenge that mantle. To him, the cult was a threat, rivals for control of the streets. It was little wonder he’d felt moved to take them down.
He felt a tap on his arm. It was Ginny. “He’s coming,” she said, jabbing her finger up the avenue behind him.
Donovan was marching at the head of a veritable army, and the Ghost realized that the sound he’d taken for the rumble of distant traffic was, in fact, the noise of Enforcers’ feet, pummeling the sidewalk. He counted nine of them, lumbering along behind Donovan and flanked by scores of men in suits, all of them carrying automatic rifles.
The Ghost’s heart sank. He saw immediately what Donovan had done, what the troubled look had been about, back at the church. He’d sold himself to the Reaper to give them a fighting chance. He’d given himself up to save the city, and his friends.