The Destroyer of Worlds (7 page)

“I shall soon have the nuclear device,” said Marugon. He looked at Kurkov. “Is that not so?”

Kurkov nodded quickly. 

Marugon shivered, much to Wycliffe’s astonishment. “If I can get it into the Tower before my enemies move against me, than I shall fear nothing ever again. I will have won. But to do that I must finish the spells upon this disk.” 

“Why?” said Wycliffe. “What are you planning to do with that damn bomb?”

Marugon said nothing. 

The changeling crawled back into the library. Goth followed it, his dark, leather-clad bulk filling the doorway. “Lord Marugon. You sent for me?”

Marugon smiled and stepped towards the winged demon. “Goth-Mar-Dan. My friend. Let us be honest. Let us have no more secrets between us, hmm?” 

Goth frowned, red light flashing behind his sunglasses. “I do not understand, Lord.” 

“I shall be succinct,” said Marugon. “You know the black magic.”

Wycliffe blinked. Marugon had told him that the winged demons could not learn the black magic. Just how long had Goth known black magic? By himself, Goth was terrifying. Goth skilled in the black magic was not a thought Wycliffe wanted to consider. 

Goth growled. “Lord. I do not understand.”

Marugon laughed. “Do not be coy with me, Goth-Mar-Dan. I have always known, from the moment we first met outside the gates of Castamar. You have kept your secret well, but you cannot hide it from one such as me. You know the black magic; you have for at least a century.” Goth went rigid, his claws unsheathing. “You are not mighty in the black magic, but you have some skill. Your power is close to that of Wycliffe’s, I believe. Though you have no skill with the Voice. A human soul is required to use the Voice.” 

A deep rumble issued from Goth’s throat. For a moment Wycliffe thought the winged demon would spring at Marugon. “It is forbidden for my kin to learn magic of any sort.”

“Oh, I know.” 

Goth growled. “So what shall you do, Lord?”

Marugon smiled. “Forbidden is such a meaningless word. The ancient Warlocks, the founders of the Black Council, forbade your kin from learning the black magic, lest the winged ones rise up against them. But the Black Council is no more. I am the last of the Warlocks. And with or without black magic, you cannot harm me.”

Goth said nothing.

Marugon began to pace. “Ally Wester and Lithon Scepteris have been found.”

Goth turned his head to follow Marugon. “Where?” 

“A farmhouse several hundred miles north of here, in the province of…” 

“Wisconsin,” said Wycliffe.

“Yes, Wisconsin,” said Marugon. “The house is layered in wards of forgetfulness. If a creature of the black magic encounters the wards, it is turned aside and loses it memory of the house.” He gestured at the changeling huddled in the corner. “But this creature knew Ally Wester before its transformation. It hated her, and the power of that hatred pierced the wards.” 

Goth’s lip twitched, revealing his yellowed fangs. “So what will you have of me?” 

“Go north and kill Ally Wester,” said Marugon. “Use your skill in the black magic to dispel the wards. Then creep into the farmhouse and slay her.”

“What of the others?” said Goth. 

“Kill them, should the opportunity arise,” said Marugon. “But Ally Wester must die.” He began to pace again. “There is not much time left before my purpose is fulfilled. My enemies will try to stop me. But Lithon Scepteris is just a boy, and his guardians nothing more than rabble. But Ally Wester has the potential to become greater than Alastarius himself. I cannot permit that. Without her, my enemies are nothing, though they may not yet know it.” 

“Very well,” said Goth. “Am I to go alone?” 

“No,” said Marugon. “Brute force has failed us. Therefore we shall try stealth and assassination. I will send Dr. Krastiny and his associates with you.” He looked at Kurkov and smiled. “You do not mind, do you?”

Kurkov shook his head. “No, not at all. Whatever you wish.”

“Good.” Marugon turned to Wycliffe. “Prepare one of your vans. Goth and Dr. Krastiny’s assassins will be departing shortly.” 

“As you wish,” said Wycliffe. He would have the vehicle painted a different color and have the serial numbers removed. God only knew what could go wrong this time. 

Goth bowed and disappeared through the door, boots clanging against the metal floor. 

“See to it that I am not disturbed.” Marugon returned to his seat at the table, staring down at the strange metal disk. “And you may wish to prepare your meat freezers. The changelings will be returning, now that Ally Wester and Lithon Scepteris have been found.” 

“Very well,” said Wycliffe. Marugon paid him no further heed. 

Wycliffe backed into the corridor, and Kurkov followed. 

“I am leaving for Los Angeles at once,” said Kurkov. “The sooner I can get Marugon the nuclear device, the sooner I can get my money, and the sooner I can return to Russia. That man is mad, I have no doubt, and his creatures are worse.”

“What?” Wycliffe scoffed. “Are you developing a conscience at this late date, Vasily?” 

Kurkov snorted. “Don’t be foolish. I fear for my sanity and my life around Marugon. You brought this man to Earth. You can deal with him.”

With that, Kurkov hurried away and vanished into the elevator.

Wycliffe scowled and stared after him. Kurkov was right. The sooner Marugon had his nuclear bomb, the sooner Wycliffe would be free of him.

He slid his smartphone free and dialed the complex’s garage, passing on Marugon’s orders about the van. 

Chapter 5 - Abduction

Anno Domini 2012

Krastiny drove, staring out the window, his hands white-knuckled around the steering wheel. 

He tried to ignore the hulking monstrosity sitting in the passenger seat. 

Bronsky and Schzeran occupied the back seat, alongside an assortment of equipment and weaponry. They sat still, staring at the floor, not risking a glance at Goth. The van hit a patch of rough road, and  Krastiny cursed and eased the vehicle ahead. “Damn these icy roads. It’s worse than Siberia.”

“But not as cold,” said Schzeran, darting a glance at Goth. 

“True,” said Krastiny. “Quite true.” He reached down and pulled a knit cap over his bald head. 

Goth shifted. “You have something to say?” His voice rumbled like a collapsing mountain. 

Krastiny started, cursing himself as a fool. He could have been back in Russia by now. He should have taken Marugon’s money and run. Instead he had lingered, hoping to smooth things over with Kurkov. “Ah…Mr. Marson. There is a town five miles from the farmhouse, according to the map. I think we should stop there, watch the farmhouse for a few days. We can better plan our attack.”

“Yes,” said Goth. 

They drove in silence for an hour. 

The weather worsened, and Krastiny considered pulling over to the side of the road, but decided against it. He did not want to tempt Goth’s wrath. 

“We have,” said Goth, “something to discuss.”

Krastiny blinked. “We do?” 

“Ally Wester,” said Goth. 

“Our orders are to kill her,” said Krastiny. Marugon had promised them another five million dollars each for the task. 

“Yes,” said Goth. He took off his sunglasses, his hellish eyes burning with fiery light. “But I have decided to make some changes to our orders.”

Every fiber of Krastiny’s being screamed against angering Marugon. “Oh?”

“We will capture Ally Wester alive,” said Goth, the light from his eyes bathing his face in a bloody glow. “And then we will take her back to Chicago.” 

“Ah…why?” said Krastiny. 

Goth chuckled. “I have a use for her. And I shall kill her after I have finished with her. So we shall obey Marugon, in the end.” He leaned closer, his foul breath filling the van, and Krastiny did his very best not to tremble. “You have no objections?”

“None,” said Krastiny, shaking his head. “None at all.”

Goth looked to the back of the van. “And you?”

“No!” said Schzeran, pale and sweating, and Bronsky shook his head. “No objections. Do whatever the hell you want with her. Keep her, rape her, eat her, kill her, turn her into a lampshade, whatever, I don’t care.” 

Goth growled. “You talk too much.”

Schzeran shut up. 

Goth chuckled and put his sunglasses back on. 

Krastiny kept driving, trying to keep his hands from shaking on the wheel. 

###

Two days later Krastiny crouched behind a tree stump, a pair of binoculars in hand. He saw the distant farmhouse in its clearing. Lights burned in its windows, casting pools of radiance over the crusted snow. 

His radio’s headpiece clicked. “Boss?” 

It was Schzeran. 

Krastiny tapped the microphone clipped to his jacket’s collar. “Yes?”

“Finished scouting. Looks like they’ve only got one guard.” 

Krastiny blinked. “Just one?” 

“Sitting in the barn. Just within the door. See him?”

Krastiny lifted his binoculars and focused on the barn. He saw a young man leaning against the barn door, a gun cradled in his arms. “I’ll be damned. Remember that young fellow Wycliffe wanted us to find a few years back? What was his name?”

“Kyle Allard.” Schzeran muttered something inaudible. “Jesus Christ. It’s him. Talk about a conspiracy.” 

“Any other guards?” said Krastiny. 

“Hell no,” said Schzeran. “And this Allard bastard seems incompetent. Give me a rifle with a decent scope, and I’ll have him dead before he hits the ground.” 

“Goth doesn’t want anyone killed,” said Krastiny. “I think he wants to snatch Ally out from under their noses and see how long it takes for them to notice.”

“Stupid plan,” said Schzeran. “They aren’t expecting anything. I say we come in and kill them all. No muss, no fuss, and only a little mess, depending on where we shoot them.” 

Goth’s deep voice cut into the channel. “You object?”

Schzeran sputtered. “No. Just wondering, that’s all.”

Krastiny heard crunching snow, and he spun, bringing up his pistol. Goth stood behind him, wearing black armor of overlapping steel plates. His wings loomed black against the sky, and a scimitar and a pistol dangled from his belt. A crown of red gold rested on Goth’s head, its points shaped like twisted flames. 

“Here,” said Goth. 

Krastiny grunted. “Pardon?” 

Goth raised a hand, claws brushing the air. “The ward begins here. Another step and it shall activate, warning its caster of my presence.”

Krastiny grunted again. “Then I suggest you don’t step forward.”

Goth chuckled. “Yet.” He raised both his hands and began to chant. The language sounded harsh, guttural, made even worse by Goth’s growling voice. 

“God,” muttered Schzeran. The headpiece crackled with static. “Sounds like he’s breaking rocks with his tongue.”

Goth made a chopping gesture. Something like black light glimmered around his iron claws. For a moment of halo of white light shimmered around the farmhouse, incandescent in the growing twilight. 

Then the light faded. 

Goth growled. “The ward has been altered.”

“You can pass through without alerting the occupants?” said Krastiny. 

Goth nodded. “We shall wait until nightfall.”

Krastiny glanced at the pale blue sky, already fading to purple. “Not long. And how shall you get in the house and steal the girl without alerting her guardians?” Goth glanced at him, eyes burning. “If I might ask, of course.” 

“Another spell,” said Goth. “I shall put them to sleep.” 

“You can use the black magic to put people to sleep?” said Krastiny. His temper got the better of him. “Why didn’t you use it before? It would have saved us a great deal of trouble.”

Goth turned his head, his burning eyes flaring. Something cold crawled down Krastiny’s spine, and for a terrible moment he expected Goth to step forward, iron claws reaching. 

Goth looked away. “The spell can only be used on those who are unaware. 

They waited. 

The sky grew darker and the air colder. Krastiny shivered and envied Kyle Allard the space heater by the barn’s entrance. Thick gray clouds crawled over the sky, blocking out the moon and the stars. A heavy snowfall was coming.

A short time later, night fell.

“Good,” said Goth. “The darkness shall aid me.” His wings flexed. “Come when I call for you.” 

He took to the air, becoming a dark speck against the black sky. Krastiny watched as the winged demon soared, spun, and then dove. 

Goth landed right behind Kyle Allard, and Krastiny heard the demon’s guttural voice over the radio as Goth chanted a spell. Allard began to turn, but too late. A black light washed over him, and Allard wavered, toppled, and collapsed into the snow. He hadn’t even seen Goth. Despite his fear, Krastiny felt a twinge of admiration for the winged demon’s stealth and speed. 

Goth faced the house and began muttering another spell. A shimmering curtain of black light washed over the house. 

Then Goth’s rough voice crackled over the radio. “Come.” 

Krastiny started towards the house, gun in hand. He saw Schzeran approaching from the other side. 

Goth waited for them by the front porch. “Krastiny. Tell your man to bring the van.”

Krastiny tapped his microphone and relayed the order to Bronsky. 

“Wait for me here. I shall soon return. If anyone steps through the front door, kill them.” Krastiny leveled his gun at the entrance, and Schzeran did the same. 

Goth flapped his wings, soared up, and crashed through a window on the second floor. 

“Now what?” said Schzeran. 

Krastiny shrugged. Schzeran fell silent, shrugged, and watched the door. 

###

Lithon paced the attic, practice sword in hand. “Middle thrust,” he muttered, performing the move. “Low thrust, high thrust.” This had gotten easier since Arran had first showed him the movements. “Swing low, swing high, swing middle.” Lithon had never shared Katrina’s and Ally’s penchant for the martial arts, much preferring football, baseball, and basketball. But he had taken to sword work with a zeal. “High parry, middle parry, low parry.” He cast dancing shadows over the wall as he thrust and swung. He wanted to learn sword work. He would need it. 

He was going to kill Marugon someday. 

Lithon turned, took the hilt in both hands, and prepared to do some of the more advanced moves Arran had shown him. “The Crowning…” 

All at once Lithon’s limbs felt weighted by lead, and his mouth cracked in a great yawn. 

Lithon blinked, shook off the weariness, and tried to begin. “The…the Crowning…”

He yawned again and fell to his knees. Something like black light shimmered before his eyes, and exhaustion swept through him in a wave. A small corner of his mind recognized that something was terribly wrong. He clung to that corner, tried to fight. 

The black light shimmered once more and faded away, and the exhaustion vanished.

Lithon blinked, looking around the room. What had just happened? Perhaps he had been pushing himself too hard. The last few weeks had been dreadful, after all. He shook his head and came to his feet. Nothing like that had ever happened to him before, even when he played hockey and football and basketball at school. 

He titled his head, listening. The house had fallen silent. Something was wrong, he knew it…

Glass shattered, and Lithon heard something thump in the downstairs hallway. He hurried to the stairs, took two steps, and froze. 

A winged demon stood by the shattered hall window. Its wings brushed the ceiling, arching above a crown of red gold. Its gaze fixed on Lithon, and a hideous grin spread over its pale face. Lithon yelled and sprinted for the stairs. Marugon had found them. He had to warn Conmager, he had to warn Arran…

The winged demon was faster. 

Its clawed hand lashed out and smashed into Lithon’s face. Pain erupted along his jaw, and the back of his head slammed into the wall. Blackness fell over his vision, and Lithon knew no more. 

###

Ally groaned in her sleep and reached for Arran, but could not find him. She had gone to bed early, so tired she had not even bothered to undress. Arran must not have come up yet. She rolled over and tried to shake off the black fog that filled her mind. 

The door creaked. 

“Arran?” muttered Ally. “Arran, is that you?”

She opened her eyes.

The winged nightmare from her dreams stood over the bed, grinning down at her. 

Ally jolted back, every muscle in her body went rigid. For a dreadful moment the dream played in her mind, and she felt the iron claws stabbing down, tearing flesh and bone, and curling around her heart. 

“No, no,” whimpered Ally. “Oh, God…”

The winged demon reached for her. 

Ally raised her hands and began to chant, trying to cast a spell of the white magic. 

The demon’s clawed hand curled around her throat, and her spell dissolved in a choked gasp. 

“Ally Wester,” said the demon. Its fingers tightened around her throat, cutting off her air. 

The creature picked her up and flung her against the wall. She struck it, bounced, and hit the floor with a painful thump. She tried to crawl away, but the demon seized the back of her neck and pulled her up. Ally kicked and punched, trying to break free, but the demon paid no heed to her blows. A clawed hand seized her cheek, turned her face, and shoved a gag into her mouth. Before she could react, the demon had tied her wrists behind her back with a heavy cord. 

The beast dropped her to the floor and put a knee in her back. Ally screamed into the gag, her bones creaking beneath the weight. The demon tied her ankles together, bent her knees back, and tied the ropes around her wrists and ankles, leaving her hog-tied. Ally screamed and thrashed like a landed fish, but she could not break free. 

The winged demon scooped her up and slung her over its shoulder, the ridges of its armor digging into her clothes. It strode into the hallway, and Ally saw Lithon slumped against the wall, blood dripping down his face and onto the floor. She screamed and tried to wriggle free, every muscle in her body straining. 

The window at the end of the hall had been shattered, its frame knocked to pieces. The demon leapt out the window and took to the air, wings beating icy air over Ally’s face. 

###

The van pulled up the driveway and stopped besides the house. Bronsky got out, gun in hand, his face an impassive mask. 

“What’s taking him so long?” said Schzeran. “It’s been…”

Goth burst from the upstairs window, wings pumping. The demon circled and landed besides the van. Krastiny’s eyes widened. A young woman in jeans and a T-shirt rested in his arms, bound and gagged. She shivered in the deep cold, eyes wide with terror, red hair falling over her face. 

Krastiny had seen her picture many times. “Ally Wester.” 

“We leave,” said Goth. “Open the door.” Bronsky hastened to obey, and Goth dumped the young woman into the back seat. “We will not be returning to Senator Wycliffe’s stronghold.”

Krastiny strode around to the driver’s seat. “We’re not?”

“We return to Chicago, but to a different building,” said Goth. His thick lip curled, revealing his fangs. “I require some time alone with the girl, before I kill her.”

Krastiny heard her muffled screams, even through the gag. “Very well.” 

He got in, started the engine, and drove away. He saw the girl trembling in the rearview mirror, and an unexpected wave of guilt washed over him. He had killed hundreds of people in his life and never felt a twinge of remorse. He had handed others over to Kurkov’s enforcers and KGB torturers and never looked back.