Night Slayer: Midnight War Page 10

  “Don’t tell me the warriors of the twenty-first century are too squeamish to take trophies of their slain enemies?”

  I sighed. I was in no mood to argue with the sorceress about the conventions of modern-day military conflicts. The tracks started to rattle—the next train was coming, and I took it as my cue to get the hell out of here.

  I jammed the skull in the Nighthawk’s tail bag. I straddled the motorcycle, squeezed the clutch and thumbed the ignition. I leaped from the shadows and hurtled down the subway tunnel.

  10

  I was still following the line of subway tracks when a familiar rumbling sound grew audible. A subway car was gaining behind me. As much fun as my first ghost ride through a moving train had been, I wasn’t all too keen on repeating the experience. Besides, I worried the magical energy powering the bike had its limits. What if I failed to phase out on the second round? No, best I get out of the subway as fast as possible.

  “Take the tunnel to your left,” Octurna piped up in my mind.

  My eye scoped my surroundings, and I detected waves of light emanating from a narrow maintenance tunnel that intersected with the main tracks. I could have sworn it hadn’t been there a few moments ago. As I powered into the passageway, my suspicion was confirmed. The narrow side tunnel led straight into the Sanctuary. The fortress had materialized right inside the Los Angeles subway system.

  A heartbeat later, I came to a grinding stop in front of Octurna’s black throne. The Nighthawk’s tires smoked, the engine belched, and the bike’s green magical fire died down. I shot a glance backward and saw the next subway train rattle past the giant arched window right before the familiar bank of stained-glass windows replaced the image. Even though I now I lived in a world where wonders were quickly becoming commonplace, I still felt a thrill. It would take a long time for me to get used to such miracles. I was ways off from becoming jaded as far as magic was concerned.

  My gaze turned to the shadowy figure ensconced in the black-carved throne. I let out an audible gasp at what I saw there. As I approached the sorceress, I realized she had changed…and not for the better. The creature meeting my searching expression shared very little in common with the seductive, ivory-skinned beauty who haunted my thoughts. The face had sunken in, the bones sharp underneath the shriveled flesh, the mane of raven-black hair now the color of snow. Gone were her curves, the red robe draped over a skeletal frame. The hint of red tattoos against tight, supple flesh, once so entrancing, now looked like lines of blood etched on a living corpse. Only the magnetic green eyes remained the same in those wizened features.

  “What happened? What’s wrong with you?”

  No answer was forthcoming. Octurna’s bony fingers waved me closer. As in a trance I obeyed. Prey walking into the spider’s web.

  And then those ebony fingers closed around my wrist with surprising strength, and my tattoos came alive. Energy rippled through my body, my lips contorted with pain, and I barely stifled the scream desperate to claw its way out of my throat.

  Octurna’s own tattoos blazed with power. The red lines of ink brightened and pulsated with renewed energy as my tats faded in color and grew dimmer.

  She was feeding on the energy, I realized. Like some kind of vampire.

  Pain shot through every fiber of my being as the power transfer continued unchecked between us. And as the complex network of ink intensified in color and became blinding, the magic restored Octurna’s beauty. Her face filled in, the loose folds of wrinkled skin grew taut, the white hair turned black again. I watched in wonder as the hag transformed into the mesmerizing beauty who had changed the course of my life.

  The pain stopped, and Octurna released me from her iron grip.

  I recoiled. The sorceress’ back was straight and regal, her posture perfect, projecting strength and vitality. She was back in control, her magic and looks restored.

  “Thank you, Jason. And I’m sorry you had to see this.”

  “What are you?” I asked in a low voice.

  Octurna rose from her throne with a teasing smile.

  “My power is limited, another side effect of the death spell. That bike of yours runs on magic. Your spells require magic. Guess who generates that magical energy?”

  I stared at her while I tried to untangle her words. “So what are you saying, you’re like a magical battery?”

  “Close enough.”

  It made sense. The tattoos on my body were a receiver for Octurna’s mystical energy. I was learning how to tap into that power and cast spells, but it was all fueled by the sorceress’s magic in the end. The same held true for my new bike and all my monster hunting gear.

  Octurna nodded at the bag on my bike. “Would you be a dear and hand over my prize?”

  Her prize? Momentary confusion gave way to understanding. Octurna was referring to the succubus’s skull.

  Slowly, I turned to the cycle. I popped the back case and removed the demon’s skull. Octurna almost greedily accepted the trophy and held it high above her head, her eyes now smoldering with a dark fire. I recognized that look. I was pretty sure I sported a similar expression when I slew the demon, and it scared the shit out of me.

  Skull in hand, the sorceress marched toward the nearest pedestal and placed it on one of the display tables where it joined the dragon, vampire, and werewolf skulls.

  Her lips stretched into a smile with no hint of amusement. “Soon enough, this chamber will fill with the skulls of our slain enemies. This is only the beginning.”

  I considered these words in contemplative silence.

  “You were after the demon’s magical power,” I said after a long pause. “That’s why you sent me after the succubus and not after one of the seven magical big bads.”

  “Their turn will come. You wouldn’t stand a chance against the seven at your current power level. Do you want to win this war or become an early casualty?”

  Lightning fast, Octurna vanished into thin air and appeared right behind me, her hand clutched around my throat. With horror, I realized that half her ghostlike arm was inside of my chest. I clenched my jaw, determined not to scream. There was something perversely intimate about the horrific act, about her nearness. I could feel her skin against mine, smell her sweet fragrance, and almost taste her.

  “Your powers are growing, Jason, and you’re a formidable soldier, but if we hope to score future victories, we’ll have to take things slowly, one battle at a time, one trophy at a time. Both you and I need to become stronger. And the more magical beings we slay, the more power we will gain. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Good.” Octurna withdrew her arm from inside my body, and I clutched my chest.

  “With each kill, you will restore my power, but your own abilities will grow too. New spells will become available, spells that will allow us to face the leaders of the Shadow Cabal.”

  “And what if I’m done with all this craziness?” I said defiantly. I hated feeling like the pawn in someone else’s game. And I felt betrayed by Octurna on some level. Why hadn’t she told me about her need to feed on magic? What other secrets was she keeping from me? Besides a sick proclivity for collecting trophies of her enemies, that is.

  “You might be done, but this war isn’t done with you. Do you really think you could return to your old life knowing what you know?”

  I didn’t answer.

  Octurna continued, “You’re no pawn, Jason and this is your game as much as it’s mine. If the seven dark masters succeed, mankind will descend in darkness and chaos. More innocent lives will perish. We must stop the Shadow Cabal.”

  She eased closer, moving like silk, her voice a glassy whisper. “I thought you wanted to make a difference, Jason. This is your chance.”

  She was right, damn it. I couldn’t go back even if the world hadn’t buried me already. This was my war, too. I was just smarting over Octurna keeping me in the dark. I had to get over my bruised ego and keep the bigger picture in mind.

&n
bsp; “Okay, I get it. Baby steps,” I said. “Kill one monster at a time, build a lovely skull collection, level up.”

  Octurna’s lips stretched into a genuine smile. “I’m glad we understand each other, Jason. Now if you need some relaxation after your last adventure…”

  On cue, Nuala and Zemira peeled from the shadows. They both tilted their heads in my direction, the invitation to follow them unmistakable, but I wasn’t in the mood for another round of freaky fun with a couple of magical love dolls.

  “I wouldn’t call them that,” Octurna said. “They might take it the wrong way.”

  I glared at Octurna. Could she read every one of my thoughts?

  “Let’s stop playing around.” I fixed my gaze on the windows. “With the succubus out of the picture, what’s our next move?”

  “Sounds like someone is eager to risk his life again.” Octurna dramatically reclined on her throne and regarded the stained-glass windows. “Do you think those kids managed to conjure a succubus without receiving direction from someone more familiar with the dark arts?”

  I shrugged. “Honestly, I didn’t give it much thought. I figured they picked it up by playing Dungeons & Dragons.”

  The sorceress cocked an eyebrow, clearly not getting the reference.

  “Never mind,” I said. “So how did those kids pull this deadly magic trick off?”

  “Someone used their natural curiosity and anger and channeled it into an occult ritual.”

  One of the windows now offered a glimpse into the past. I saw goth kids gathered in a circle. They were performing the ceremony which would thrust the sex demon into our reality. Little did they know they wouldn’t live to see the next morning.

  “The girl leading the ritual and all her friends were students at USC,” Octurna said.

  I shot the sorceress a disbelieving look. “Don’t tell me they were taking Witchcraft 101.”

  “Not witchcraft, but History of Magic and Ritual taught by Professor Robert Brogan.”

  I stepped closer to the observation windows. Peering through the magical portal, I watched a swarm of bright young college kids rush into a campus lecture building.

  “And you think this Professor Brogan told them to conjure a demon for homework?”

  “Very funny. Joke as much as you like, but Brogan is the likeliest suspect.”

  I wasn’t convinced. “What if these kids just wanted to spice up a Friday night by dabbling with the dark side? I hear it beats the club scene.”

  “These kids didn’t dabble,” Octurna said sharply, not amused. “They unleashed true evil into our world. That is something you can’t just pick up from reading a book. You need to know what you’re doing. Someone with a real understanding of black magic helped them.”

  “Okay,” I said, holding up my hands.

  “I understand and even respect your skepticism. But there’s more. Other incidents over the years connected to the campus. In 2016, sophomore Janet Welch murdered her boyfriend by stabbing him thirty times before committing acts of cannibalism.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Friends described them as madly in love.”

  I shook my head. “Emphasis on madly.”

  “According to police reports, the court statements, and psychiatric evaluations, she claimed she was possessed by a demon.”

  “Let me guess, she was a USC student taking Professor Brogan’s class.”

  “How ever did you know?” Octurna said sarcastically.

  “Alright, cut it out, and just keep going. You’ve got more?”

  Octurna nodded sagely. “The list goes on and on. Every occult crime committed in the last ten years in Los Angeles by a young person…”

  “Leads back to the good professor,” I finished. “Okay, so what are you saying? The teacher gets off by feeding young people to demons?”

  “Something like that. My guess is Brogan is an acolyte, a fledgling member of the Shadow Cabal who is earning his stripes.”

  “So why corrupt these kids? What does he gain from a succubus running around LA?”

  Impatience tinged Octurna’s voice as she answered. “I believe the Cabal is readying this world for a terrible spell, a spell that will draw on the negative emotions of every person on this planet.”

  I mulled this over. It made a terrible kind of sense. “So the worse things get, the easier it is to pull this super-spell off?”

  “You’re beginning to understand. Slowly.”

  I shifted back to the image of the busy school campus. Among the frolicking students glued to their phones or chattering away with friends, without a care in the world, a new figure emerged. The man was bald, with a black goatee that matched his dark designer suit. He wore a golden necklace with a five-pointed star pendant. His icy eyes observed the milling crowd, his features empty of all emotion.

  “He sure looks the part of a wannabe occultist.”

  Octurna gave a dismissive sniff. “Acolytes tend to overcompensate as they try to prove themselves to the Cabal and earn a place in the organization.”

  The stained-glass window zeroed in on Brogan, and this time I noticed a black tattoo on his neck. It showed an inverted triangle inside a circle.

  “He carries the mark of an acolyte,” Octurna said. “His presence in this city means that a Cabal lodge must be nearby.”

  “Lodge? You mean like a freemason thing?”

  She shrugged. “The Shadow Cabal has its agents all over the world in all the major cities. The lodges act as informal headquarters and centers of power, hidden bases so to speak.”

  I kept studying the man, beginning to grasp the enormity of the task we’d set for ourselves. We were not going up against a few monsters here, but a magical mafia. A secret society not driven by violence and greed but a desire to destroy the world as we know it.

  The sorceress moved toward me silently and placed a slender hand on my arm. “Ready to go back to school, Jason?”

  11

  I faced the wall of stained glass windows, eager to venture into the real world again. After all, I was still craving that In-And-Out burger. But I had some questions first.

  I turned to Octurna. “How come your windows can’t track the good professor to the lodge?”

  Octurna sighed. “I wish it was that simple. The whereabouts of their lodges are secret and protected by wards and other magical defense systems.”

  “So you want me to make contact with Brogan and follow him back to his evil lair?”

  The sorceress shook her head. “No, much too risky. If Brogan catches on that he is being followed, we lose our chance at locating the lodge. I have a better idea. Give me your hand.”

  I hesitated for a moment but complied. What other choice did I have? Octurna leaned forward, and I gently opened my hand and turned it toward her, so the palm was facing up. Her touch was electric, and my breath hitched in my throat. Even though I’d seen her before the black magic makeover, I still found the sorceress utterly bewitching.

  “Relax. This will sting a bit.”

  I sighed inwardly. Why did it always have to sting when we made physical contact?

  I inhaled, breathing in her scent. She smelled of soap and musk and fresh grass, and I was having a hard time not thinking of our first encounter on the altar…

  A sharp pain pulled me out of my semi-erotic daydream. Octurna had used one of her long fingernails to prick the palm of my hand, drawing blood. And now she was using that same bloody fingernail to carve an oval shape into my outstretched hand. My blood gleamed in the glow of the flickering stained-glass windows.

  My first instinct was to whip my bleeding hand back, but Octurna waved her other finger at me, her magnetic gaze ordering me to stay put. To trust her. There was a method to her madness. At least I hoped so. The circle of blood on my palm solidified and turned into scar tissue. It resembled an eye with a scraggly line below it.

  “I assume this a spell of some kind?” I asked when she at last released me.

  “The eye will le
t you track Brogan. All you have to do is shake his hand and mark him with the all-seeing Eye of Horus.”

  I stared at my new scar, not convinced.

  “Don’t worry about the mark. As soon as you transfer the spell to the target, your hand will return to normal.”

  “That’s a reassuring thought.”

  “Professor Brogan’s class should start in about ten minutes. And he hates it when people show up late. Especially folks who aren’t officially enrolled.”

  The windows started to blur together and morphed into one enormous stained-glass pane that showed the red brick buildings that made up the USC campus. The glass shimmered and once again became a doorway into reality.

  Octurna nodded, and I stepped through the gateway.

  Three determined steps later, and I found myself on the bustling campus. I gasped but managed the unnerving sensations of cold and terror that accompanied the portal jump. My presence didn’t earn any strange looks from the flocks of students, and I figured my magic had already altered my outward appearance. A quick glance at my reflection in the nearest window confirmed that much—I was now wearing a pair of well-worn Converse and ragged skinny jeans with a blue hoodie draped over a beanpole physique. I was about as non-threatening as you can get. I was almost scared to catch a better look at my face and find some pimple-faced mug staring back at me.

  Magic was a trip. Talk about the understatement of the year.

  I caught a few coeds smiling at me, so my latest disguise wasn’t completely unappealing to the members of the opposite sex this time around.

  “Focus on the mission, Jason.”

  Jealous?