Sacrifice of the Sorcerer Page 2

  Weylock crossed a wooden bridge that stretched across the dark lake. A few monks brushed past him, casting wary looks in his direction.

  A minute later, Weylock walked through a giant white archway and entered a world made from glittering salt crystals. Religious iconography abounded here.

  His gaze was drawn to the statue of the Archangel Michael, holding a sword and shield, standing out among the other salt statues of Saints and biblical figures. No matter how many times Weylock passed through this place, he never ceased to be impressed.

  Next up was a corridor lined with iron doors engraved with protective glyphs and sigils. These shadowy hallways held the worst of the afflicted. The possessed cried out in fury as Weylock briskly walked past their cells, demanding to be set free. They cajoled and pleaded, but Weylock successfully blocked out their tormented voices.

  He’d had a lot of practice during the time he’d been a patient here himself.

  At last, he reached the door at the end of the hall. It was secured with a bolt the size of his forearm, but Weylock slid it open with ease. He crossed the threshold and entered a chapel.

  Votive candles revealed stained-glass windows that depicted the Stations of the Cross. Marble statues of the Biblical figures, Saints and other religious iconography watched Weylock with blank indifference as he stepped up to the chapel’s granite altar. The Necrodex in his coat flared with warmth.

  Weylock knelt before the altar and held up the book.

  “Show me the way,” he said, activating both the magic of the codex and his spiritual surroundings.

  The chapel was no ordinary place of worship, just as the Eques Sanctus was no regular monastery. It served as a place of worship, true, but it was also a doorway into the outside world.

  As soon as Weylock had uttered the words, his surroundings changed. The chapel whirled, the statues and windows becoming a blur. Reality contorted until the space around him transformed into a much larger church.

  Weylock exhaled sharply as the book in his hands cooled and the world stopped spinning. He rose to his full height.

  A Hexecutioner’s duties weren’t bound to any one nation on Earth. Weylock fought evil wherever it struck across the globe. The magic of the chapel of Eques Sanctus allowed him to travel to any house of worship on Earth in the blink of an eye. It sure beat air travel. The only downside was that Weylock never knew where he would end up until he arrived at his final destination.

  This house of worship was modern and lacked the majestic medieval grandeur of the Northern Italian monastery. He tried to guess where he might be, but the sterile emptiness of the church offered few clues.

  St. Joseph Catholic Church in San Jose, Silicon Valley.

  The information just popped into his head, almost as if some messenger of God was communicating directly with him.

  One more example of Necrodex’s strange magic at work.

  As Weylock walked down the nave toward the church’s exit, his leather coat morphed into a sharp, perfectly tailored black suit. To the monks of Eques Sanctus—and the monster he hunted—he was the Hexecutioner, a grim avatar of justice dressed in black leather. But to the outside world, he still presented himself FBI Special Agent Jaxon Weylock. An FBI badge opened the doors to crime scenes and got cops to share information with him. Truly, it was just like magic. Weylock generally preferred to save the demon’s power for the supernatural battles ahead.

  Weylock emerged from the church into downtown San Jose, passing a mix of casual and upscale restaurants. A few of the ladies enjoying drinks at the bustling beer bars and cocktail haunts smiled at the attractive man in the sharp black suit.

  Weylock returned the smile, enjoying this brief moment of normalcy.

  He eyed the crowd of young people enjoying themselves all around him. Happy and fun-filled, their spirits soared as they flirted, chatted, made jokes and had a grand old time. Death was far away, not even a fleeting thought as they enjoyed themselves in the California sun.

  Weylock barely remembered the days when he’d been one of those carefree folks without a worry in the world. Even before becoming the Hexecutioner, his job as an FBI profiler had taken a considerable psychological toll on him. Life seemed less enjoyable when you saw the potential for violent death everywhere. That smiling, handsome fellow chatting you up at the bar might be harboring murderous tendencies; that beautiful goddess winking at you might be a child abuser or a grifter. It was hard to turn off the darkness and just enjoy the moment.

  Avery had always wanted him to leave work at the door, but he hadn’t been able to hang up his knowledge along with his suit jacket at the end of the day.

  Now Weylock wanted to feel what it was like to be one of these carefree people. What was the harm, really, if he stopped for a beer and a quick bite? How long had it been since he enjoyed a burger and French fries?

  Didn’t he deserve a moment of respite from the craziness?

  Almost as if the restless souls guiding his mission sensed his wavering resolve, all those happy people on the outdoor patios suddenly transformed into the monster’s victims. Dead eyes bored into Weylock from bloodless visages. Their expressions were blank, yet he could sense the accusation in them all the same.

  “All right,” he muttered. “I’m going.”

  An address slashed through Weylock’s mind as the Necrodex showed him an image of a sprawling apartment complex. A sign identified the place as THE WOODS.

  Avenge us, a choir of phantom voices demanded.

  I will, Weylock said. I promise.

  The dead had no patience for the frivolities of the living. He had a job to do, and it was best if he didn’t allow himself to become distracted. Evil forces had converged on this city. That was the reason—the only reason—Weylock was here. He needed to keep his head in the game.

  The life of a Hexecutioner wasn’t without its challenges. It was an existence filled with meaning and clarity of purpose, but there was no rest from the horrors. Each slain beast led to a new quest, a new nightmare.

  But it was the only way to atone for his sins.

  Chapter Four

  Alice Welsh was getting paid to work up a sweat.

  The Yoga Class which she was teaching online via Zoom, had a good turnout today. Not that Alice was getting rich; the class was funded by donations only, and quite a few people didn’t pay at all. She had toyed with the idea of charging her students a fixed amount but decided against it.

  Alice was new to the fitness game and still building her client base. Having folks checking out her class with no financial pressure seemed like the perfect way to get people hooked. Once they saw how amazing she was, they’d be more than happy to fork over those hard-earned dollars and make her rich beyond her wildest imagination.

  Yeah, right. Even Alice’s sunny optimism didn’t fall for that big of a whopper.

  Sure, some people appreciated her efforts enough to send her a few bucks here and there. Unfortunately, for every person who paid her, there were three who took advantage of her generosity, like two of the women who were attending her class today. Jane and Helen had been regulars for months now, but not once had Alice seen their names on a PayPal or Vimeo money transfer.

  Didn’t they realize that even physical fitness instructors needed to eat? Her classes weren’t just a hobby. She had bills to pay like everyone else.

  Alice loved what she did. Working out was her addiction, teaching healthy habits her calling. The sense of community that she was fostering in her classes made her look forward to each new session. But she wanted to make a business out of this and eventually expand her workout plan to nutrition and other healthy lifestyle habits. Using the internet was just the beginning. Her goal was to run a health coaching center, but how would she ever make this happen when half her clients were too cheap to send her even a dollar a class?

  She remembered what her father had told her when she first told him about her plans.

  Know your value, don’t sell yourself short. If yo
u give too much away, the client will never see you as an expert again.

  Not surprisingly, her dad opposed the whole donation idea. Perhaps she should have listened to her old man.

  Especially out here in Silicon Valley. Everything was so expensive in San Jose.

  The bottom line, she needed more clients and better clients, if she were to ever make a living at this whole physical fitness thing.

  Alice finished a set, wiped the sweat off her forehead with a hand towel, and took a deep swig of her electrolyte water.

  Okay, snap out of it, girl. Your attitude sucks today. At this rate, you’ll lose the few paying customers that you DO have. No one wants a sourpuss for a fitness instructor.

  Alice suspected she was in a shitty mood because the rent was due in four days. She was still three hundred dollars short—and that was with balancing out her fitness classes with catering gigs and dog walking jobs.

  In Silicon Valley, money flowed freely. Her zip code boasted 74 billionaires by her last count. Alice didn’t expect to ever join their ranks, but she’d hoped that the wealthy techies in this town would pay for her services. She didn’t want to be rich—just make enough to pay her bills while helping people live better, healthier lives.

  Give it some time, she told herself. You have a great product. People love your classes. The money will come. Just keep at it.

  Easier said than done with her credit cards nearly maxed out.

  Alice took another swig from her water, cranked up the music, and forced herself to smile at the computer.

  The show must go on, she thought as she jumped back into her routine. “Alright, ladies, time to work on our butts now because who doesn’t like to have a nice shapely booty?”

  The faces of her students on her computer screen lit up with excitement. Even though some pretended to protest, claiming they were way too sore for another set, their overall enthusiasm for her class still shone. Seeing that made it all worthwhile to Alice.

  Like many of her students, she hadn’t always been a fitness fanatic. She’d struggled with weight throughout her teens. Alice hadn’t even snagged a prom date. Looking back on it, the lack of interest had been, in part, because of her low self-esteem about her appearance. That probably explained why she was so devoted to her students and never missed a class. Nowadays, Alice turned heads wherever she went, but a part of her was still that insecure chubby girl pining away for boys that would never notice her.

  Thinking about those days put an extra bounce into her kicks and lunges. She welcomed the burn she was feeling in her butt and thighs. No pain, no gain.

  Alice had conquered her past. And she was determined to help other women do the same and reach their full potential. Even if that meant she had to live on a shoestring budget while she grew her business.

  By the time Alice wrapped up her online session, she was in a much better mood and ready to face the rest of the day. When it came down to it, she was a born optimist, a go-getter with an easy smile and not ordinarily prone to negative thinking.

  Screw it, she thought. She would just have to try harder to find the right clients. The kind who showed their appreciation with their checkbooks and not just their smiles.

  Ten minutes later, her friend Karen rang her with an opportunity that couldn’t have come at a better time.

  “What are you doing tonight, girl?” she asked.

  “If want me to go out with one of your coworkers again, the answer is no. You know me, I’m looking for something a little more substantial than some random hook-up.”

  Karen’s laugh crackled over the line. “Come on, give me a little credit. I think you were quite clear on this matter the last time I tried to play matchmaker. I swear, I had no idea Tony was seeing three other girls.”

  Alice sighed. Karen had been one of he students back when she was teaching dance classes at Equinox. From time to time, she still logged into her Zoom classes, but nowadays, they spent a lot more time hanging out offline as friends. Karen was a coder at some hotshot upstart tech company and was always trying to set up Alice with her male coworkers.

  Land yourself a Silicon Valley geek millionaire who will worship you and finance your dreams, and you’ll never have to worry about paying the rent on time again. That was Karen’s dearest wish for her friend. Too bad it didn’t align with Alice’s dreams.

  Being some fitness trophy girlfriend held zero appeal to her. Besides, she was a staunch romantic. Alice had zero interest in casual sex, and she knew those rich tech geeks often had some significant issues with women. Many of them were the guys who had been invisible back in high school, especially to the members of the opposite sex.

  Alice related to their pain from her own experiences but didn’t approve of how they treated women now that they were the masters of the universe. Guys that hadn’t kissed a girl until they were way into their twenties went through women as if they were sultans intent on building harems.

  But for a change, Karen had a different proposition for her today—one Alice might actually get behind.

  “You ever hear of Ian Zorn?”

  Alice shrugged and said, “Can’t say I have.”

  “Come on, girl, how do you expect to super-size your business when you don’t know the names of the big players in town? You need investors and influencers to notice you if you’re gonna get rich.”

  I never said I wanted to get rich doing what I love, she thought. I just want to pay my bills.

  Despite these thoughts, Alice decided to hear her friend out.

  “Okay, you got my attention. Who’s Ian Zorn?”

  “He’s a super-geek, a super-genius and the CEO and founder of one of the super-hottest tech companies in town.”

  “Sounds like a super-catch.”

  “Hey, I told you, I’m not playing matchmaker this time. Zorn is a freak and a playboy, not boyfriend material. But he is throwing a private party tonight, and I’m invited, and you’re the lucky gal who will be my plus one.”

  Alice processed this. She had heard some wild stories about the parties these nouveau riche multi-millionaires liked to throw. Parties that involved plenty of alcohol and drugs and guest lists that consisted mostly of females to assure a favorable girl-to-guy ratio. Favorable to the geek kings of Silicon Valley, anyway.

  As if sensing her counterargument, Karen said, “Listen, most of the people invited are married or in relationships.”

  Alice still wasn’t sold. She had heard way too many stories of “open” relationships among the Technorati that were really just excuses for the men to cheat. These folks felt the old rules of behavior didn’t apply to them.

  “Right,” Alice said, “because that has ever stopped any man, ever.”

  “I promise you; this party will not be some same crazy orgy. Just a smallish get-together of some cool folks. The kind of people you want to attract to your classes. The kind that will pay you what you’re worth. And all of them are well connected around town.”

  Karen warmed up to her theme.

  “You get a few tech millionaires in your class, and word will get around. Trust me on this, I’ve seen it happen before. So, what do you say? Are you down, or do I need to come over and twist your arm?”

  Alice took in her small studio apartment, from the aging desktop with the unreliable internet connection to the stack of bills collecting dust on her coffee table. Alice was right. Sure, she had some bad experiences with techies in the past, but so what? She had to get out there if she wanted to change her life. No one builds a business without doing some hustling.

  “Alright, I’ll go. But if anyone tries any funny business, I’m out of there.”

  “That makes two of us, kiddo. I’ll pick you up at eight. Dress to impress.”

  And before Alice could change her mind, Karen had hung up on her.

  Alice sighed and shook her head. What was she getting herself into?

  Her cat rubbed her head on her bare, sweaty leg, almost as if Monty approved of her decision. She absent
-mindedly petted the purring feline, still worried she was making a big mistake.

  Get over yourself. Don’t be such a frigging Girl Scout and try to have some fun for a change.

  By the time the night ended, Alice would wish she’d listened to her instincts.

  Chapter Five

  Daylight gave way to darkness as Weylock arrived at the Woods apartment complex he’d glimpsed earlier in his vision. The sprawling structure was built in 1982, boasted three floors and over 1500 units ranging from studios to 3 bedrooms.

  Alice Welsh lived in a studio as she was struggling to make ends meet in an expensive city.

  The building was located near Vista Park Center and looked slightly rundown but still decent. Alice Welsh was shelling out fifteen hundred a month for her little piece of privacy, but it was a deal for this affluent city.

  Weylock approached the glass entrance, and the double doors buzzed open without him having to ring the doorbell. Controlling a powerful demon came with a few fringe benefits. One of them was that you never ever had to worry about locked doors again.

  The residents who passed Weylock acknowledged his presence, but they didn’t give the stranger in the black suit a second thought. None of them would remember his face.

  Weylock walked past the building’s communal pool, which now stood abandoned, and headed for Alice’s studio: Unit 244.

  He ascended a stone staircase and turned right on the second floor. As he advanced, the Necrodex, which he carried in a leather attaché case in his FBI guise, continued to whisper information into his ears; a steady, almost calming voice solely perceptible to his senses.

  He’d learned that Alice had been single for a year now following a nasty break-up, that she was a fitness fanatic who spent much of her time trying to build a health coaching business.

  Weylock always admired people courageous enough to follow their dreams and create something of their own. Many such endeavors failed, but Weylock remained convinced that pursuing goals was as crucial as their actual achievement. The journey was truly more important than the destination. People entered the world screaming in pain but without regrets, and Weylock believed a well-lived life meant one left the world in the same manner.