The Guardian Lineage (23 page)

 

 

As it turned out, Nukes and Amadeus
had
found a safe place to hide. They neglected to share the details of their hideout – apparently they weren't trusting anyone these days, even the Guardians who were supposed to protect them – but they did fly to meet the Guardians at their motel. Thankfully, no Brethren attack followed their arrival, and in a few minutes it was arranged. JB and Kiva were to go with Nukes and Amadeus, while Mike, Aaron, Annabella and Steph would set out for New York and hopefully survive a face-to-face encounter with Dementae. Aaron had begged to be sent with the Gargoyles, but it was Steph who pointed out that Dementae knew he was one of the survivors. If Aaron didn't show, he would know something was up.

Mike saw Julius Brutus grasping Nukes's thick neck, glasses taped on to his face for the long journey. He looked like a kid about to get on the first roller coaster of his life. Kiva, on the other hand, sat rather comfortably on Amadeus, as if she had been waiting on this forever. Mike realized he didn't know anything about her. It was a strange realization that he was about to go to war with people he didn't really know. But maybe that was how all wars worked. You were thrown into a battle against a bunch of people you had nothing to do with, save for the color of your uniform and the piece of land you were standing on.

Mike wished both of them good luck, then watched as the Gargoyles kicked into the air. Mike heard JB scream. Then it was lost on the wind, and the Gargoyles disappeared from sight.

The Guardians slept the whole night and much of the following day, using the remaining daylight hours to prepare for the upcoming ride. They went shopping for a few hours – if for no other reason than to get fresh clothes – and planned attack strategies, escape devices, and brainstormed about anything that might help. Each scenario seemed more farfetched than the next, but it helped pass the time, and it seemed logical to have
something
prepared for when they got to the castle.

The ride to New York was a long one; traffic on I-95 was brutal. The Guardians were unusually quiet, but understandably so. Mike knew their prospects weren't good. An assault against Dementae's forces… even Mike doubted the logic of his own plan. By now Amadeus and Nukes would be across the ocean, and they would be starting their approach to Chateau de Vincennes. If they had made it. Who knew what kind of Brethren force was deployed in Europe, let alone inside the castle itself.

The Guardians finally reached Washington Heights, driving past Dominicans lounging on the street corners and Jews scurrying by in skullcaps and button-down shirts. Mike thought it to be an odd mix, but then again, so was a group of humans and gargoyles. Not that it was a good comparison, but whatever. He parked the SUV at a hydrant across the street from apartment building four-eighty. He didn't want to park illegally, but there were no other spots, and besides – the last thing he had to worry about was whether the car was going to be towed.

The boiler room was not very large. True to its name, it had a boiler, but not much else. The walls were painted a peeling blue, and pipes stuck out from the ceiling. Mike thought for a moment it was a joke, until Steph spotted it.

“Look!”

She pointed at the wall. To a normal onlooker it would be merely a large oval etched into the paint. But to Mike, it looked exactly like a miniature portal, with room enough for one person at a time.

“How do we turn it on?” Mike wondered.

Steph closed her eyes for a moment, then walked over to the wall and whispered something. The blue paint turned into liquid, and the portal was activated.

Aaron gaped. “How did you…”

“My dad taught me,” Steph said quickly. “Come on.” She rushed through the goo and disappeared.

When Mike exited the portal, he noticed he was outside. A humid wind blew in his face, the smell of the ocean entering his nose. The stars were visible all around, as there were no man-made lights as far as the eye could see. In fact, it took a moment before Mike could see anything at all.

When his eyes finally did adjust, he could see that he was
not
in a castle.

The Guardians were in a half-moon amphitheater, set against a black oceanic horizon – Mike could hear the waves from behind the backdrop. They were standing on the stage, seemingly scheduled to perform an unscripted play to a crowd of zero. The stands looked to be in decent shape, but they were made out of stone, and didn't appear modern at all. In fact, the whole setting seemed to be of ancient architecture.

“Where are we?” Aaron asked nobody in particular.

“Fantastic question,” said a voice. Mike's head snapped to the stands, where he strained to make out a single figure, sitting in the first row. He was clad in black robes, with a chromed head that reflected the full moon. An amp hung from his neck.

Mike only had one guess. “Dementae.”

The man stood and bowed. “At your service, Mister Prior.” He walked slowly up towards the stands. Instead of stepping up, however, his whole body rose to stage-level, as if he was being carried by a cloud beneath him.

“Welcome to Caesarea, a gorgeous little excavation site in the northern part of Israel. Ever heard of this place?”

“No,” Mike said, muscles clenched. He was uneasy about this latest development, but it did have its merits. JB and Kiva would have an easier time getting to Chateau de Vincennes if Dementae wasn't there. And the longer Mike could stall Dementae in – Caesarea, was it? – the longer JB and Kiva would have to free the Guardians.

“Let's begin with a little history, shall we?” Dementae started walking now, his hands extending from his flowing robe, animated as he spoke. “Over two thousand years ago the Romans built this city as their home away from home – a capital in the Middle East, a base of operations for their world conquest. A capital city of Rome had to have a coliseum, of course, as well as an amphitheater. The coliseum is still being unearthed,” Dementae pointed behind the stands, “But here's where the real fun took place, anyway.”

Mike took hold of his companions. Aaron was shaking, clearly thinking about Dementae's guarantee to kill him. Annabella looked steady, unafraid, almost as if she was ready to accept the worst-case scenario. And Steph… he couldn't read Steph's expression at all.

“The Romans of yesteryear were a bunch of bullies. They suppressed whatever nations they had conquered. Treating them at best like second-class citizens, at worst like the animals they featured in the coliseum. And they
loved
their executions.”

A smile came to Dementae's face. He had drawn closer now, and Mike could make out his features in the full moon. Mike was startled by what he saw. Dementae appeared young, not much older than Mike was, and full of life. Mike had almost assumed Dementae would be some sort of zombie, like in the movies, raised from the dead to terrorize mankind. But this guy could've been a senior in high school and no one would've known the difference.

“Caesarea was a town with plenty of blood on its hands. For example, the Romans executed a group of Jews known as the Ten Martyrs here on this spot, sometime in the first century.” Dementae pointed to the ground and grinned. “Flesh ripped off bone. Burnings at the stake. Beheadings. A rabbi's
face
ripped off.” He paused for effect, then clasped his hands behind his back and continued walking in a different direction. “My kind of people.”

Mike had never heard of the Ten Martyrs, but if this was some sick joke, he wasn't laughing.

“Caesarea was also home to Pontius Pilate, of Christian fame.” Peeking behind him, Dementae's noticed his guests' blank stares. “The guy who condemned Jesus to death, you ignoramuses.” He shook his head, then continued talking with his back to the Guardians. “During the Crusades this city served as a burial ground for many foolish warriors, most of whom chased the legend that the Holy Grail was hidden here. Finally the Mamaluks razed the city's fortifications in the thirteenth century, and the bloodbaths of Caesarea ceased altogether.”

Here Dementae's hands curled into fists, and he turned to face the Guardians. “Until 1820, when your god-forsaken Headmage decided to reopen the amusement park for visitors.”

Dementae stalked towards the Guardians, slowly, like a lion converging on its prey. “Two hundred years ago, I was sacrificed. Murdered.
Martyred
. In front of an audience greater than any the Romans ever put together. And it was
Garzan
who did it to me.”

Mike readied a shield in his mind. Dementae had totally morphed from his previous persona – he had been calm, collected, a history teacher giving over a lesson. But now he was shaking, almost unstable…

“
Garzan
wanted to gain the favor of the other clans. He wanted to be accepted once again, to reclaim the glory that the Skyfire clan had lost. First he forced me out of the clan, then he executed me, as if I was a sacrifice to the heathen Headmages of the clans.”

Keep on going
, Mike thought.
Just keep on talking
.

“But it is no matter,” Dementae said, calming down just a bit. “I have been reborn. And I will not make the mistake of losing a second time.”

Dementae stared down Mike. Then he smiled.

“Your face does not show fear. In fact, I detect a certain smugness. Am I right, Mister Prior?”

“Uh, sure, whatever you say.” Mike stared straight ahead, refusing to be intimidated. He opened and closed his right hand, ready for a fight…

Dementae continued, “Because if that is the case, then I must conclude that you have something up your sleeve. Perhaps this is not the entire remnant of the Skyfire clan?”

Mike struggled to keep his face straight.

How could he know that?

Now Dementae's face rearranged into a glare. “You know the only reason I dragged you to this forsaken place was to see if you sent a second party, right?”

Mike bit his lip, so hard he thought it might burst. He made himself stay calm, stay unmoving… he could not let Dementae know what they had planned…

Dementae grinned and smoothed out his robe. “I thought so. And now that you have revealed exactly that, Mister Prior, to business. A formal request to join us.”

“Excuse me?” Mike said, cursing himself for being so stupid. Of course they would suspect some sort of plan, some sort of attack. Who actually came and surrendered after a simple request?

Dementae's black eyes were piercing, his eyebrows slanted. “I will not be so kind to ask again.”

“Go to hell,” Mike said, and spat on the floor.

Dementae looked down at the dusty quarry, then up again at Mike. “Because I am so benevolent, I will try another method. Mister Prior, your mother is one of my servants. She is my
second in command
.” Mike felt the burn of his companions' stares. “Join me, like she has, and fulfill the destiny of your family.” Dementae held out a hand.

Mike shook his head repeatedly, as if it would make the fact false. “I'm no traitor,” he said, stepping backwards.

Dementae retracted his offering and smoothed out his robes yet again. He threw his arms to the sky. “What else do I have to do to convince you to fulfill your destiny, your heritage?” He rubbed his chin. “Ah, I know. Perhaps you would like to meet the orchestrator of the Skyfires' demise? Maybe she will be able to sway you over to the winning side?”

Mike stared only at Dementae. What could he be talking about… they had already figured it out, his mom was the spy…

“Aw, come on, sweetheart, don't be shy.” Dementae looked in Steph and Annabella's direction. To which Annabella cried out in shock, “It was you all the time!”

Steph hesitated for a moment, then took a step in Dementae's direction.

It
was
Steph.

“I
knew
it was you,” Annabella cried. “You put the Calebra in the girls' dorms, you tried to poison Kiva after we got back from the Slayer hideout!”

“What?” Mike said inadvertently. Someone had tried to poison Kiva? Why hadn't he heard about this?

Annabella pointed a condemning finger at Steph. “That's why nobody knew about it –we sent
you
to go for help!”

Well, that answered that question.

Water rushed in from over the amphitheater, and Annabella fired ice ray after ice ray at Steph. But Dementae put up a shield – an enormous shield, as big as a gargoyle's wingspan – and blocked any attempt at offense. Then he fired through the shield, a tiny black pellet that nailed Annabella in the stomach. She jerked backwards and fell onto the floor. She screamed, writhing in pain. Mike watched in horror as a black splotch grew on her stomach, not unlike the one that inhabited Garzan for the past few days.

“Anyone else care to try that?” Dementae suggested. “No?” He lowered the shield.

“Now we come to the fourth type of reasoning – and my personal favorite – blackmail. By the way, Mister Caulderon? I always keep my word.” Quick as a whip, Dementae fired another black gobbet at Aaron, who had gone over to care for Annabella. It too hit him in the stomach, causing him to double over on his knees and hold himself, screaming.

“Stop it, just stop it!” Mike yelled amongst the Guardian cries. He couldn't take this anymore. His mother and Steph were Black Brethren. Aaron, Garzan, and Annabella were infected with Aneksham. Zachariah was dead. Caroline and Alexis were gone, along with the rest of his clan. There was nothing left…

“Why? Why did you need
me
? You could've left them alone… why did you have to destroy everything I knew?” The words came out staggered, rasping, struggling against the gasps of air Mike inhaled. Mike's breathing wheezed in and out, his eyes as salty as the oceanic vista.

“My poor boy, who doesn't even know his own inner strength.” Dementae bent down and put a hand on Mike's shoulder. Mike threw it off.