Vesik 04 - This Broken World (14 page)

The Old Man settled onto the couch. “The world will try to beat you down. It will steal your will. The best thing you can do is kick it in the balls.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“You saw the Leviathan.” He stayed silent until I nodded. “You need to understand something. You are not strong enough to face a creature like that. You need more power.”

“How?” I asked. “Where do I even begin?”

“Soularts will be your best weapon. Study Koda’s manuscripts. See if the old ghost will train you. I’m afraid, at some point, you will become an immortal, or you will let this world die.”

I sighed and stared at the old wood stove. “Super.”

***

It was late when I felt the enormous ley lines around us shift as
something
arrived within the perimeter Zola had setup so many years ago. The Old Man’s eyes met mine and he simply nodded. I pointed to the back door as I moved to the front.

He moved silently. The door that normally squealed opened quietly, as if he had willed it to be silent. I took a different tact and let the front door slam behind me with a thunderclap of wood slamming together and the metallic echo of rusty springs.

A bulky shadow stood at the edge of the forest, beyond the old oak. Something pulsed out from the figure as it pulled a thin blade from the darkness to its side and held it to the sky. I didn’t even have to concentrate to see the nova of power emanating from the blade. The shadow stepped forward into the moonlight as it sheathed the object once more.

Mike’s features took shape and I started to smile. In the moonlight, I could see the dark streaks on his arms disappearing beneath the leather blacksmith’s vest he wore. He drew the hammer from the belt loop as his side. The Smith's Hammer ignited, expanding into an enormous war hammer as smoke began to climb from the demon’s eyes. I took a step backward as I realized his eyes were flame.

“Mike?”

“Prove your worth to me Anubis-son. God-child. Only a worthy god can wield the Splendorum Mortem.”

That’s what the blade had been. Gods, that thing was power incarnate.

Thought left me as the flaming hammer of death streaked across the field. Mike released an inhuman growl. For the first time since I’d come to know the demon, fear lived in my gut instead of our usual camaraderie. My shield was up in a split second. My training with Aeros kicked in. I adjusted the angle and Mike’s first strike glanced off it. Fire and lightning erupted from the shield’s surface.

The demon knew what he was doing with the heavy weapon. His momentum carried through to a spinning strike and caught my shield squarely. Flames exploded across my vision as he growled, shifted, and connected with an overhead strike.

A shield can take a lot of abuse. It can’t take direct hits from the Smith’s Hammer. My safety net vanished in an explosion of electric blue lightning. The explosion lit up the field and something flickered across Mike’s face, something like regret, as he pulled back for a killing blow.

I caught a glimpse of the Old Man. The bastard was leaning against the corner of the cabin with his arms crossed. The Old Man. Fuck. Yes. I’d only seen it a few times, but I was sure, for this magic, it’d be all I needed.

My growl turned into a scream as I sent my aura blasting out to every dead thing I could find within a half mile. It came to me by the time I punched my fist into the air. The ground exploded in front of Mike. His eyes widened before the grisly fist the size of his entire body made contact with his chin. The hammer fell from his hand, the flames vanishing in the blink of an eye, dropping the entire field into darkness.

A current of power lit my senses on fire. In that moment, I knew nothing could stop me. Nothing could touch me. I laughed, and it was a horrible, wretched sound. I stalked toward the demon and barked at him. “Is that all you have? Is it? I could kill you so easily …”

I stared at Mike, unconscious and bleeding on the ground. That wasn’t right. Something felt wrong … and then my senses began to return. I raised the palm of my right hand to my forehead and swayed.

“What the fuck?” I fell onto my knees by Mike’s head. He was face down in the field of grass. I reached out and touched his neck. He still had a heartbeat. His back rose slightly. He was still breathing. I wasn’t sure if any of that mattered with a demon.

“Mike? Dammit, Mike, are you alright?” I rolled the demon over and winced at the blood running down his face as his eyes slowly focused on me.

“What … what happened?”

“I think I knocked you out.”

“It didn’t take you.” His eyes trailed from me over to the Old Man. “You were right, Leviticus.” Mike’s bloody face curled up into a smile. “You were right.”

Things started clicking in my head. “This was a test?” I looked at the Old Man.

“Yes. I lost myself to the Fist of Anubis once, during Sherman’s March to the Sea. We had to be sure you were stronger than me.”

“What?” I asked.

“You summoned the power of a gravemaker, and it did not take you. You didn’t lose yourself in it.”

“Bloody hell, is that what I felt? The raw power? The absolute need to kill something?”

“You didn’t,” Mike said. “I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it.” He sat up and rubbed his face. He blinked and looked at the blood that came away on his hand. “Damn. That was a hell of a punch.”

“You did great, kid,” the Old Man said. “There was a time I failed to resist.” He started to light the pipe in his hand, paused, and set it on the porch railing instead. “You have seen my past, son. You know what happened to my family. You probably know more than you even realize. The memories and life you absorbed when your power siphoned away my own.”

I nodded, remembering the battle with Prosperine. Remembering the terrifying power that allowed me to reach out to the Old Man while he was some five hundred miles away.

“Unless I miss my guess, you already know what happened in Roanoke.”

“The Leviathan?” Mike sniffed and climbed back to his feet.

“Croatoan,” the Old Man said. “I will always have regrets for what happened there.”

“I’ve heard the story,” Mike said. “If you hadn’t stopped that thing when you did, it could have ended this entire country. The Watchers weren’t in the States yet. Outside of the Native Americans, this country was lost when it came to magic.”

“Croatoan was not magic,” the Old Man said as he picked his pipe up and finished packing it. “Croatoan was an Old God.”

“Some believe he was Eldritch.” Mike rubbed his jaw and winced.

“You alright?” I asked.

He nodded his head and gave me a thumbs up.

“Old Gods and Eldritch Gods,” the Old Man said. “There is little difference.”

“Are you nuts?” I asked. “If one of the Eldritch Gods ever came here, we’d be lost.”

“No,” he said. “If they come here, we will kill them. Koda believes the line of Anubis was born to defend this realm from the Old Gods. I cannot help but believe he was right.”

“You’ll be attending the Concilium Belli soon, yes?” Mike asked, turning to me.

I nodded.

“Do not reveal the Splendorum Mortem to them. There are several beings who would take the blade and use it to their own ends to do great harm. With the oath I swore on my hammer, never to kill an innocent, it could very well be the end of me.”

Mike pulled a simple leather sheath off his belt. He took a deep breath, and then held it out to me. “Regardless of what you fight, this blade can kill it.”

I held out my hand and Mike gently placed the sheath in my palm. I smelled oil and leather. Stitching edged the sheath and ended in two copper rivets. I snapped the strap off the dagger’s hilt and stared at the braided metal beneath.

Two fairy Blessings had been married. The hilt’s wide, flat base reminded me of the dull end of an old railroad spike. The metals wove together, one slightly lighter than the other, even in the moonlight. The hilt curved and ended in a wicked-looking blade. It was rough, with forge and hammer marks along either side, but the edge glinted, ready for blood.

I slid the Splendorum Mortem back into the sheath.

“The blade alone can kill an immortal,” Mike said. “It can channel a soulsword, just like your focus does, but I would urge you to avoid that. You may not be able to control the amplification of power.”

“I’ll avoid it as best I can,” I said. “Unless I need to roast some marshmallows really, really fast.”

Mike nodded and wore a serious expression. “It would work pretty well for that.”

“Idiots,” the Old Man said. I could have sworn the ghost of a smile crept onto his face.

“Rest well tonight, Damian. I understand Gwynn Ap Nudd declared you must travel by way of the hand.”

I nodded.

“Don’t—”

“Let go,” I said. “Yeah, I’ve heard that once or twice.

Mike laughed quietly, his massive chest moving with the sound. “Rest well. It will not be long before war is upon us.”

“Will you be at the council in Faerie?” I asked.

“Glenn invited me, but I do not know if it would be wise. The courts of the undines are in turmoil. A fire demon may draw too much attention.”

“Plus I’ll cut his balls off if he goes,” a voice said from the vicinity of the old oak tree.

We all turned.

Mike’s little necromancer stood there with her arms folded across her chest.

I grinned and turned back to Mike. “I think I see the reason pretty clearly now.”

The Old Man coughed in what I’m fairly certain was a failed attempt to hide a laugh. “She’s had a leash on you for almost two hundred years. Hephaestus indeed!” He laughed in earnest and the little necromancer giggled.

Mike sighed and gave me a very put upon look. “I can’t win.”

“Seems unlikely. At least you still have your dignity.” I paused and pursed my lips to the side. “Mostly.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

T
he Old Man was gone when I woke in the morning, but the routine didn’t change much. I still cooked a few eggs and enjoyed the last few slices of bacon. Three of Dell’s chimichangas were still in the freezer, but I didn’t think they’d travel well. Not to mention I had no clue if Faerie put much stock in microwaves.

Philip’s hand of glory was still stuffed in my backpack and sitting on the rounded corner of the counter. My staff was leaning against the backpack. My hand wandered to the pepperbox holstered at my side, slid over the bump of the concealed sheath that held the Splendorum Mortem, and eventually came to rest on the focus. I was both intrigued and filled with dread when it came to the hand. I was
pretty
sure Glenn wouldn’t ask me to do something that would result in my immediate death. But dammit, he was Fae, and sometimes they surprised the hell out of you. Sure, some days they were surprisingly benevolent and generous, but on a bad day? Immediate death.

I finished washing the dishes from last night’s dinner and the morning’s breakfast. Once the last plate was in the drying rack, I wiped my hands on my jeans and started shutting down the cabin. I made sure the lights were out in the bedroom and I unplugged all of the appliances except for the fridge. Hell if I knew when we’d be back.

All the while, I’d catch glimpses of the backpack from the corner of my eye. On my second trip through the cabin to check the plugs, I realized I was just delaying the inevitable.

“Let’s get this over with already.” I couldn’t avoid touching that awful hand any longer. I grabbed the staff and the backpack. I stepped toward the back door and left the cabin, letting the screen door slam behind me. I paused and tried the door to make sure I’d actually locked it.

The thick soles of my shoes caused my footsteps to echo as I crossed the wooden deck. The woods were quiet. It was odd to hear so little in the country after living in the city for so long, but this was even quieter. A calm wind rustled a few leaves and bent the longer blades of grass around me, but the animals didn’t make a sound. It felt like the forest was just as apprehensive as I was about what was to come.

I dropped the pack onto one of the stones Aeros had raised. The hand of glory felt cold when I pulled it out of the backpack. It wasn’t room temperature, it was more like an ice pack. I took a deep breath and looked down the scorched, u-shaped depression Zola’s incantation had left behind. Time was wasting.

I grimaced as I laced my fingers into the dead hand. The cold flesh warmed and I felt the flow of power a moment before the dead fingers flexed and grabbed onto my hand.

I swore I heard the Old Man say “I hate those damn things,” and then the world vanished into darkness.

I had a brief moment of panic before warmth flooded my entire being. It flowed through me like the rhythm of a heartbeat. A faint golden glow took shape to my left.

Motes of light drifted down onto the severed hand as it began to bleed. The light coalesced and brightened, calling more sprites that gathered like snowflakes drawn to a tiny world. In moments, there was a woman, born of the purest light, holding my hand.

“Ah, I have a new master.” Shoulder-length hair flared out slightly when she turned to look at me. “Where do you wish to go, child of Anubis?” Her eyes were golden light.

My grip loosened on the bloody hand, and then her fingers locked into my own.

“Do not release me here, for there is nothing but death in the Abyss between.”

Nixie’s warning came screaming back into my mind.
Do not let go.

“What?” I asked, my hand tightening on the woman’s. “Who are you?”

“You may call me Gaia.”

“The spirit of the Earth?”

“In a way,” she said with a tiny nod of her head. “Where do you wish to go? I would imagine you wish to join the King at the Concilium Belli.”

I nodded and looked at our intertwined hands. Ever so faintly, I could see the dead hand within the warm light. “Are you bound to this hand?”

“It is my hand,” she said. I waited for a smirk or some kind of indication she was joking with me. Nothing came.

“Why are you helping me?” I asked.

“It is my purpose.”

Purpose. I wasn’t sure if she was being vague, or blunt. “Are we within the Warded Ways?”