Specter Rising (Brimstone Network Trilogy) (18 page)

Trinity slowly turned, extending its arms. More energy leaped from its fingertips, striking at something invisible to the naked eye—something that had been erected by powerful supernatural forces before the birth of humankind.

“And we will use this power to crush all who dare oppose our rule,” Barnabas continued, as the air bombarded by the energy-spewing Trinity began to darken and stain, to form a kind of window onto another world.

To Bram, it wasn’t at all like the passages Bogey would weave with his strange hand gestures. There was something terrible about this, something brutal.

The floating figure drew back its arms for a moment, and then thrust them forward again with a wail of excitement. The air itself seemed to solidify around the movement, flowing like a tidal wave toward the discolored patch hanging in the air.

The wave of magick hit the barrier with incredible force and Bram watched in horror as the barrier began to crack.

And over it all was the sound of Crowley’s laughter.

A
ll Bram could do was watch, and that was the most horrible thing of all.

Like a piece of windshield glass, tiny cracks appeared upon the surface of the barrier face, spreading across the smooth, amber-colored surface.

“And so it ends,” Trinity proclaimed, under the control of the black mage Crowley. The Crowley persona turned slowly, smiling down at Bram. “One after another I will bring them all crashing down,” he sneered. “And soon every world and every creature that walks, crawls, jumps, and slithers upon them will bow down to me.”

The mage’s smile suddenly went away and his face twisted in what appeared to be pain. Bram had an idea of
what was happening even as the mage dropped from the sky, landing on the ground before Barnabas.

“Seems like somebody else might have other plans,” Bram said as the mage’s features shifted and changed from Claire to Tobias and back to Crowley again.

“Are you well?” the warlord asked from astride his steed.

Crowley’s features again dominated and the mage turned with a snarl. “Nothing to concern yourself with, Barnabas,” he said. “Just a bit tired from attempting to punch a hole through a magickal barrier that has existed since the dawn of time.”

Crowley lurched to his feet. “Nothing that the conquest of Earth won’t cure—that should put a spring in my step.”

Barnabas drew his sword, holding it high above his head. “To war!” he cried, and his army replied in kind, roaring like wild animals as they brandished their own weapons, waiting for Crowley to finish what he had begun.

Bram felt a sudden tremble in the ground beneath his feet. At first he believed it was the army beginning their advance across the field, but then he noticed the expressions of surprise on the faces of the soldiers. They were as surprised by it as he was.

“Did you feel that?” Bram asked, looking at Lita and Boffa, who acknowledged his question with a nod.

The soldiers began to grumble, looking around for the source of what they were feeling—and now hearing. And then the cries came from somewhere in the back of the assemblage, screams of terror that started to spread through the warriors’ gathering.

Over the tops of soldiers’ heads Bram could see that dirt and dust filled the air as something approached the field from the south.

Something huge.

Then through the clouds of dust he saw it, even if his brain didn’t necessarily believe it.

The giant corpse wasn’t so much a corpse anymore.

It was alive, and stumbling toward Barnabas’s army.

It was alive.

I
t was taking everything Douglas St. Laurent had to keep this thing going.

Gazing out through the giant’s empty eye sockets, he propelled the corpse toward the enemy.

He had to focus to keep the rotting form of the giant together and moving along—one foot after the other. But
he found himself distracted, worrying about his son and the others that he had learned to call friends.

Enormous pieces of rotting flesh dropped from the giant’s bones as birds and clouds of angry insects swarmed about its head. Raising the giant had obviously disturbed the fragile ecosystem within its body.

Douglas could see the army before him. He could also see what appeared to be a gigantic opening—a window in the very air that seemed to look onto another world entirely. And this thin barrier appeared to be breaking.

It didn’t take a genius to know what world that was, and what the bad guys were planning.

Douglas quickened the giant’s step. He began to focus on what remained of the giant’s vocal cords. Using precious energy he made them vibrate, moving the sound up through the neck and out of the mouth.

It was one of the most horrible sounds he had ever heard. He’d had a cat once that had choked on a particularly large hairball—this sound reminded him of that, only much worse, and much, much louder.

The horrific sound echoed through the air like the blast of a horn, and he watched as the gathering of warriors panicked completely.

Good,
he thought, his thunderous footfalls shaking the very earth.

Now if only my boy is safe.

T
he army was in complete disarray.

In the midst of the panic, Bram surged forward, shouldering his way through the panicked crowd toward his sister and Boffa.

“How is this possible?” Lita asked, her voice filled with awe and fear.

“I don’t know,” was all Bram could say.

Riding his reptilian mount, Barnabas led his soldiers to attack. They swarmed at the giant like ants attacking an invader that threatened their colony. The giant dead thing looming above the encampment simply reached down and swatted them away with skeletal hands.

“Is this your doing?” screeched a voice nearby.

Startled by the shrillness, Bram looked over to see Trinity, still wearing the face of Crowley, shuffling toward them. Long skeletal hands flexed by his side; sparks of jagged supernatural energy were leaping from the tips of pointed fingers.

“When will you learn that I cannot be stopped,”
the cadaverous face of the black mage warned. “When will you learn that all your fighting is just a lesson in futility.”

Instinctively, Bram found himself moving forward to protect his sister from the dark sorcerer’s wrath, when an answer to Crowley’s question bellowed through the air, propelled by a familiar voice.

“What I want to know is when you will learn to stay dead.”

Mr. Stitch was suddenly there, and in his arms he was carrying one of the reptilian horses used by the Specter army. The creature hissed and wailed in panic as it struggled in the patchwork man’s grasp, before it was thrown at Crowley, burying the evil mage beneath five hundred pounds of beastly flesh.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Bram said with surprise as his friend approached. “No, come to think of it, I should have known.”

“You’re a sight for these sore eyes, lad,” Stitch said.

Bogey had come up behind them with a small knife, freeing them from their bonds.

Lita and Boffa stared at the Mauthe Dhoog and the others with cautious eyes.

“Don’t worry, they’re my friends,” Bram reassured them.
“How did you get here?” he asked, rubbing his chaffed wrists.

“We were searching for you,” Stitch said. “Or at least your killer.”

The giant corpse roared, filling the field of battle with its horrible cries.

“Does my dad know how to do things with style or what?” Dez asked from behind Bram.

Bram turned. “Your dad?” He looked back to the animated corpse as it continued to battle Barnabas’s soldiers. “But I thought . . .”

“Long story,” Bogey said.

From behind a grouping of tents Bram caught sight of a gathering of non-warriors: the old, men, women, and children.

“Who are they?” he asked.

“They’re my people,” Lita replied, going to them. They bowed as she approached.

“And who is that?” Bogey asked Bram.

“That’s my sister,” Bram said with a smile. “We need to get those people to safety,” he added.

“I tried that back in the tent, but they didn’t want to go,” the Mauthe Dhoog said, his hands thrown into
the air. “They think they’re gonna be missing out on something.”

“Could you try again?” Bram asked. “Rift them to a place where they won’t be hurt?”

“I’ll try and be a bit more persuasive,” the Mauthe Dhoog said, cracking his knuckles. “All right you knuckleheads, it’s Disneyland for the lot of you!” the Mauthe Dhoog cried, clapping his hands to get the Specter citizens’ attention.

Bram was amazed by how suddenly complete he felt—how in control.

Too bad it didn’t last for very long.

There was a sudden, nearly overpowering smell of something burning, and from where the reptilian horse had landed atop Crowley, there was an explosion of white fire that ignited the very ground around it.

“Get back,” Bram screamed as Trinity rose up from the blaze, its body engulfed in fire.

“How dare you!” Crowley’s voice boomed with nearly immeasurable power. “How dare you!”

Certain that they would be facing the power of the black sorcerer, Bram braced himself for the worst. But he could see again the struggle for dominance on Crowley’s face as the features of the child briefly appeared.

Then, inexplicably, the dark mage soared past their heads, magickal fire trailing in his wake.

T
his was his curse: to be so close to victory, then have it all mercilessly snatched away.

As Crowley propelled his shared body up into the gray sky of the Spectral world, he remembered all of them—all the defeats handed to him by the accursed Brimstone Network throughout the ages, and he swore that it would not happen again.

The child inside had sunk her claws into his mind, dragging him back, allowing her brother the opportunity to come forward. Crowley could feel the flesh changing, and he would not stand for it.

From the dark recesses of his foul mind he brought forth painful images of Tobias’s involvement in the destruction of the last Network, images that showed what a monster the boy had become in the name of saving his sister.

The dark mage felt the teen’s strength falter, and immediately took advantage, swatting away the attempts of the girl-child with ease, and taking control of the powerful form again. He felt the surge of power within him and screamed in victory.

Riding waves of magick, Crowley hovered in the air before the ragged body of the giant corpse and smiled as the rotting monstrosity reached for him. The sorcerer did not move as the enormous mitt closed around him, attempting to crush him as a child might end the life of an annoying insect.

He let the power flow from his body unchecked.

The magick was hungry and it immediately began to consume the bone and dead flesh of the giant’s hand. The giant shook its arm, attempting to extinguish the flame, but the magickal fire was not to be stopped. It continued to voraciously spread across the great body, until it was a threat no more.

Just smoldering ash, carried upon the wind.

“N
ot looking good!” Bogey cried out, gesturing for the last of the Specter to pass through the rift that he had opened to a safer world.

“Hurry up,” Bram ordered, watching in horror as the body of the corpse was completely consumed by Trinity’s magickal fire.

Dez lurched forward on his crutches. “Dad!” he screamed, coming to a halt as he realized the futility
of it all. There was nothing he could do, the giant was gone.

“So what’s next, fearless leader?” Emily asked in her wolfen voice.

A good question,
Bram thought as he silently gazed at the form of Trinity as it hung in the air above the battlefield, like some sort of evil star. He realized
that
was the key to their victory, and their potential defeat.

Trinity. Trinity is the answer.

Meanwhile, the surviving Specter troops were gathering themselves together again, turning back toward the Brimstone agents, falling in behind Barnabas who was somehow still astride his steed.

Crowley floated above them radiating destructive magickal power.

“I couldn’t find him,” Desmond said, suddenly beside Bram. “I reached out with my mind and I couldn’t find my father. It’s like the fire burned him up too.” He sadly dropped to his knees. “I’ve lost him again.”

But from Dez’s desperate words an idea began to form.

Bram squatted beside him. “Dez, we don’t have much time and I need you to do something for me.”

The boy looked at him, tears dripping down his face.

“There’s not a chance that we can stand up to him
alone,” Bram said, pointing to Trinity hovering in the air. “The only way we can defeat Crowley is from within.”

Dez stared at Bram, the confusion obvious on his face.

“There are three beings in that body,” Bram continued. “Two of them oppose Crowley, but aren’t strong enough to take away his control.”

“What do you want me to do?” Dez asked, wiping the tears from his face.

“I want you to put my mind inside of Trinity’s,” Bram said.

Stitch stomped forward. “Abraham, you can’t—”

“It’s the only way,” Bram interrupted. “Crowley has to be stopped, and the only way that’s going to happen is if Claire and Tobias help us.”

No one could argue. They had all seen the extent of Trinity’s power, and with that strength under Crowley’s control, there was very little hope for anybody.

“Can you do it?” Bram asked urgently.

Dez sniffled, wiping his runny nose with the back of his hand. “Can’t promise that it won’t hurt.”

Bram accepted that with a nod. “They had a saying at the P’Yon Kep monastery—
‘
Knowledge is forged in the fires of pain.
’
”

“What the heck is that supposed to mean?” Emily growled.

Bram shrugged. “Usually it meant that I was about to have my butt kicked.”

Dez reached out with his mind. The fingers of psychic force wrapped themselves around Bram’s very consciousness and tore it from his brain.

And yes, it hurt very badly.

R
iding the air beside Barnabas, Crowley tried to think of the most memorable and disturbing ways for his enemies to die. With the kind of power he had at his disposal, the choices were limitless.