Science and Sorcery (35 page)

Matt looked up as a ghostly hand fell on his shoulder.  Someone he vaguely recognised from history classes was looking down at him, pointing to the field.  Was he trying to say
Matt
should try to break the field?  Matt hesitated, and then gambled, pushing his hand forward into the sheet of light.  Raw power crashed down around him, as if he’d walked under a waterfall, and then started to break apart at his touch.  Walking forwards wasn't easy, but somehow he made it...

He’d seen pictures of Arlington Cemetery, but he’d never had a chance to visit before it was too late.  It had been devastated by the raw
mana
storm; buildings had been destroyed, graveyards uprooted and everyone in the area had been killed.  Matt’s senses threatened to overload as he sensed the
mana
growing stronger, before he pushed it aside and started to run.  He
had
to get there before it was too late. 

***

Steering so much
mana
was almost impossible, like trying to control a low-powered boat while trying to drive up the rapids.  Calvin felt pain flaring through his head as he forced the
mana
to slip into the interdimensional nexus, finally realising just how Enchanter had trapped the Thirteen.  Their prison pulled so much
mana
in that it pushed them down, pooling at the bottom like a never-ending waterfall.  It was ironic, in a way; they had enough
mana
to make themselves gods, but only of the pocket dimensions Enchanter had built to hold them.  Escape was impossible, at least without help from the outside.

His mind seemed to slip free of his body as the
mana
finally started feeding its way into the twist he’d identified as the lock.  The world was twisting around him, slowing down; he saw the ghosts standing around him, as if they’d given up hope.  One by one, they turned their backs on him, a final pointless defiance.  And then a hand fell on his shoulder.

“Do you really want to do this, lad?”

Calvin jumped.  “What?”

The ghost seemed rather more...
understanding
than the others.  “I was mistreated too, by my superiors,” he said.  He sounded rather rueful, as if something that had once been important no longer mattered.  “In the end, I had enough and turned traitor.  It didn't get me anything I actually wanted, even if
everyone
knows my name.  Do you really want to do this?”

“I don't know,” Calvin admitted.  It was the truth.  “Where else can I go?”

“You’ve made mistakes,” the ghost said, flatly.  “But this one will only ensure that you will never be able to seek redemption for your earlier mistakes.”

Calvin rounded on him, feeling the
mana
starting to move of its own accord.  “It's easy for you, isn't it?”  He demanded.  There were tears trickling down from his eyes.  “Tough men who take no shit from anyone.  It’s not so easy if you're born weak and you can't get any stronger and no one gives a shit about you as anything other than a punching bag.  What did I do to deserve it?”

“That was then,” the ghost said.  “What do you deserve now?”

Calvin stared, feeling guilt starting to claw at his soul.  Harrow had wanted him to sacrifice Mindy and he’d rebelled, but only then.  He’d spied on countless girls, invading their privacy, and then he’d murdered Sandra because Harrow had told him that she might have sensed what he was.  And he’d had his fun with Gavin and Coach Thornton, and then he’d forced his way into Marie’s body,
raping
her.  He was no better than Moe.  Given vast power, and the freedom that came from knowing that no one would ever be able to hold him to account for his actions, he’d sinned.  What had Sandra done to him that deserved the death penalty?  Or Marie?  Or the hundreds of people who had been caught up in the chaos as he escaped the NYPD? 

Or Jewels, who had been honest and even kind?  She had never set out to make fun of him; she’d even given him an education in just how great sex could be, if performed with a willing partner.  What had she done to deserve to die?  Or the other four people he’d sacrificed to boost his power?

And what sort of nightmare would Harrow create, given the chance?

He reached for the
mana
, intending to pull it away from the lock, but it was already too late. 

Step by step, the prison was unlocking.

***

The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier lit up with a blinding white light.  Matt sensed the oncoming surge of
mana
and threw himself to the ground, noticing vaguely that all of the ghosts seemed to have followed suit.  Sheets of power flared over his head, as if the lightning storm was right on top of him, followed by a long peal of sound that almost deafened him.  It sounded almost like a scream of triumph.

And then the lightning died away.

Matt looked up, saw the figure standing where the monument had been, and knew that they were far too late. 

The Queen of Nightmares was free.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Washington DC, USA

Day 36

Harrow took a long breath, her first in thousands of years.

The modern world
stank
.  Strange smells drifted through the air, none of them pleasant, all hinting that the air was somehow
diseased
.  Calvin’s mind had revealed that pollution was a major problem, but Harrow hadn't really comprehended it.  What sort of idiots would pollute their own living space for generations?  Clearly, the mundanes needed the firm guidance of those who wielded magic for their own good.

She smiled at the ghosts as they stared at her, their faces twisted in horror.  There were a
lot
of ghosts, more than she’d ever seen in one place before, all of them wearing strange uniforms that were utterly unfamiliar.  But all they could do was stare.  The barriers between the living world and the Land of the Dead were weak in a place of power, yet even the most honoured dead could never fully return to the living.  Their attacks on Calvin had been futile.

Harrow took another breath and looked up into the eerie sky.  Vast amounts of
mana
had leaked out of her prison when it had collapsed, spreading out across the city.  She reached out with her mind, absorbing as much as she could into her wards, but too much of it was already outside her reach.  Not that it really mattered; the locals might have had some help from the past, yet it wouldn't be enough to save them from her.  And even if she did nothing, such a vast increase in the
mana
field would cause its own disruption. 

She looked down, towards where Calvin was lying on the ground, and then towards a single man running towards her, carrying a gun.  The Hunter, Harrow realised, as she sensed the man’s very faint impression on the
mana
field.  It was smart of the locals to send him against her, or Calvin, but not smart enough.  It had never occurred to them that Harrow had been the apprentice of one of the magicians who had devised the Hunters, or that she might know their weaknesses.  Hunting the supernatural creatures was important, but so was ensuring that their creations didn't get out of hand and start hunting magicians as well.

The Hunter lifted his gun and took aim.

***

The Queen of Nightmares was beautiful.  And terrifying.

She was tall, inhumanly so, and very thin.  Her skin was grey, her eyes were pools of darkness, surrounded by long dark hair that seemed almost alive.  There was something about her face that was somehow
wrong
, even though Matt couldn't have placed his finger on it.  And her body seemed almost as if it was hiding something, something inhuman...the more he stared, the more he wondered if she was still truly human.  She was naked, but there was no hint of vulnerability surrounding her. 

He lifted his gun and took aim, right at her chest.  This time, they didn't dare try to take the magician alive.  The Queen of Nightmares watched calmly as Matt took aim and fired, only to see the bullet glance off her wards.  Golem had never warned him that his talent, however it actually worked, could be neutralised.  Matt fired twice more, hoping that the first bullet had been a fluke, but it was useless.  A moment later, a powerful force tore the gun from his hand and threw it out over the city.

The Queen of Nightmares stepped forward slowly and delicately, as if she were relearning how to use her legs.  Flames licked at the ground around her feet, as if the very ground was rejecting her.  Matt saw all kinds of ghosts surrounding her, as if they were trying to push her back with their sheer presence.  The Queen of Nightmares seemed barely aware of their presence.  Matt had the sudden feeling that he'd be joining them soon enough.

“I...am...free,” the Queen said.  She spoke quietly, but Matt could hear each word echoing out over the entire city.  “This world is mine.”

An invisible force grabbed at Matt, picked him up and held him dangling in front of the Queen.  She studied him thoughtfully, as a scientist might study a new species of insect, before narrowing her eyes.  Matt felt
something
twisting around his mind, as if she intended to try to brainwash him, and concentrated hard on the techniques for shielding himself that Golem had taught him.  The Queen laughed and then threw him away with staggering force.  He crashed down on top of a gravestone, feeling bones breaking with the force of the impact.  Even with his regeneration abilities, it would be several minutes before he managed to get up and return to the fight...

But he didn't have the slightest idea what to do next.

***

Golem felt the
mana
field twisting, just before the force field snapped out of existence.  He felt Harrow’s presence as soon as the field vanished, a mind that had a terrifying effect on the local
mana
field – and the sudden surge of
mana
from the prison.  Harrow had literally
centuries
of experience in drawing
mana
into her wards and she was currently sucking up as much power as she could.  Unlike a magician from the modern era, who wouldn't be prepared to absorb so much
mana
, Harrow would probably find it rather weak.  But it would be enough to make her powerful and virtually immortal.

Enchanter had ordered him to keep the world safe from Harrow and her twisted comrades.  And he’d failed.  Feeling something rather akin to bitterness, Golem started to run, leaving the others to make their way after him as quickly as they could.  It was easy to pinpoint Harrow, even if the ghosts hadn't been urging him on.  Her presence dominated the area, her personality reaching out to rend and tear at everyone nearby.  They hadn't called Harrow the Queen of Nightmares as a joke.  Few magicians tried to use magic in the dreaming – it tended to have unfortunate effects – but Harrow had made it her speciality.  And it had given her skills and abilities unmatched by anyone else, even the rest of the Thirteen.

They’re not all out
, Golem told himself.  But if they had been, they would have been competing for
mana
in a very small space.  Merely appearing together might have killed them, at least until the
mana
field grew much stronger.  Golem knew very little, beyond theory, of the magic that kept someone firmly clinging to life, but he did know that they required vast amounts of
mana
. 

He saw Matt go flying into a gravestone as he ran closer.  The Hunter had had the best shot of any of them at killing Harrow, but she’d obviously prepared for his presence.  Golem wasn't built to contemplate what might have happened
if
, yet he found himself wishing, bitterly, that they’d managed to kill Calvin Jackson before he escaped.  Their obsession with taking him alive might have cost them the world.  Calvin himself was lying on the ground, either dead or broken.  Golem suspected that he’d outlived his usefulness to Harrow; if she hadn't made him any binding oaths, she would probably kill him out of hand.  Whatever
mana
remained in his body after the unlocking spell would be a tasty treat for a sorceress.

Harrow turned to face him, her face twisted into something that resembled a smile.  She was as terrifying as Golem had been told, even though she was the weakest of the Thirteen.  And yet her magic had allowed her to send her mind wandering out in the modern world when the prison started to crack, giving her a chance to get out ahead of the rest of the Thirteen.  She might even plan to betray them and leave them sealed up...no, she couldn't.  Even if she hadn't sworn them oaths, she couldn't restore the prison without draining the
mana
again.  It would mean certain death. 

She held up one hand and Golem stopped dead, as if he’d crashed into an invisible wall.  He felt her magic boiling around him, but Enchanter had worked all kinds of protections into his clay skin.  Harrow might be able to destroy him – she had enough power for that, if she was prepared to spend it freely – yet she would never be able to rewrite his personality.  Golem pressed against the invisible wall, quietly working spells that should have weakened it, and watched Harrow with unblinking eyes.  She didn't seem troubled by his scrutiny.

“He tricked us,” Harrow said, calmly.  Golem had expected murderous rage, not conversation.  “He lured us into a trap and locked us away.”

“Yes.  He did.”  Golem pushed again, feeling Harrow’s magic pushing back at him.  Maybe, just maybe, he could convince it to break.  “You wanted godhood.  You got it.”

“You will not lock me away again,” Harrow said.  “We will walk on this land again and we will not be restrained.”

Golem braced himself as magic flared around Harrow’s long fingers.  A moment later, a bolt of lightning struck him in the chest and sent him spinning backwards, followed rapidly by other waves of energy that tried to drill their way through his protections.  Harrow had far more experience and flexibility than Calvin; Golem felt hot bursts of pain as flickers of energy burned through his defences and tore at his soul.  The ghosts watched him mournfully, unable to affect the outcome of the battle.  They were already dead. 

A final burst of energy flickered out at him.  Golem jumped backwards, desperately, dodging it by bare inches.  Harrow seemed to be tiring of the game; the
mana
field was jumping wildly, as if she was drawing on it too strongly.  Golem allowed himself to hope that she might accidentally weaken herself to the point where she was vulnerable, before realising that it wasn't going to happen.  Harrow had too much
mana
stored in her wards to weaken quickly...

***

“Get up, lad.”

Calvin barely heard the ghost’s voice.  The final backlash from Harrow’s prison had knocked him to the ground, leaving him feeling almost as if he were trapped in his own body.  He could
sense
Harrow’s presence now, a terrifying pressure on the land that he’d never even realised she possessed, back when he’d first met her in dreams.  Hindsight told him that he had been manipulated, that he had been tricked and used by someone who cared not a whit for him, or for the world.  And he’d betrayed the entire world.  Surely no one, not even the treacherous ghost, could make such a claim. 

“You have to get up,” the ghost repeated.  He seemed stronger, somehow; it took Calvin a moment to realise that there was so much
mana
floating around that the ghosts were drawing on it, becoming stronger.  But they’d never become strong enough to stand up to a living magician, let alone to Harrow.  “You’re the only one who can stop her.”

It was hard, so hard, to move his body.  His hands and feet felt as if they were no longer truly part of him, leaving him wondering if cripples felt the same way.  Somehow, he managed to draw on the local
mana
field himself, just enough to start the healing process.  It felt like hours before he stumbled to his feet, feeling hideously unstable.  Harrow was standing where the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier had been, staring down at her new world.  She turned her head and looked at Calvin, a cruel smile playing over her face. 

“I thank you,” she said.  In the real world, her voice sounded terrifying, almost as if magic flowed through every word.  Calvin knew how to shield himself from mental manipulation, but this was different, as if it was natural and right for him to bow his head.  Somehow, urged on by the ghost, he managed to stay upright.  “You have restored me to this world.”

“You tricked me,” Calvin tried to say.  His voice sounded funny in his ears, as if his mouth had been badly injured and he hadn't even noticed, but Harrow understood.  “You lied to me.”

“I never lied to you,” Harrow said.  She sounded more amused than offended.  “Everything I told you was true.”

Her face twisted into a grimace.  “You did the rest of the work yourself,” she added.  “I never
forced
you to revenge yourself upon your classmates.  You darkened your own soul long before I told you what you’d need to do to help me – and save yourself.”

She was right, Calvin knew.  He
hadn’t
been forced into anything, either through trickery or outright mind control.  Either she hadn't had the power to compel anyone from inside her prison or the prison couldn't be unlocked by someone who wasn't working of his own free will...but it hardly mattered.  She’d dangled temptation in front of him and he'd fallen for it, hook, line and sinker.  He’d made a deal with someone far worse than the devil, he realised, as he saw the power crackling around her.  Harrow’s very presence seemed to be turning the earth to ash.