Part 27 (1/2)
I lay in the circle with the blue lines of manifested magick crackling over me, watching as Seamus marched back to the Skull, breaking the circle's bonds. It didn't matter. He had what he needed.
”Tatum lucidium,” Seamus read reverently from the Skull. Seamus read reverently from the Skull. ”Tatum nocturnum. Infine mortis, lucium est.” ”Tatum nocturnum. Infine mortis, lucium est.” He kept chanting, low and measured, but I was floating. I saw a bright halo of gold surround everything in the room, and felt cold, but not from my skin. He kept chanting, low and measured, but I was floating. I saw a bright halo of gold surround everything in the room, and felt cold, but not from my skin. This This was dying, not the horrible pain I'd experienced as when I read the Skull. This cool nothingness was the end, and I knew it as sure as I knew that I'd failed and Seamus had won. was dying, not the horrible pain I'd experienced as when I read the Skull. This cool nothingness was the end, and I knew it as sure as I knew that I'd failed and Seamus had won.
No. No, I hissed to myself. I may be weak but I was a survivor. I would live. Battered and broken, I would live because the were would not let me die. No matter how much it hurt, this would not kill me. This was not the way everything ended. I hissed to myself. I may be weak but I was a survivor. I would live. Battered and broken, I would live because the were would not let me die. No matter how much it hurt, this would not kill me. This was not the way everything ended.
”No,” I whimpered, because that was all that came out. ”No.”
Seamus's chanting stopped and he turned around when I spoke. ”What in all things Hexed and holy!” he demanded. ”That should have killed you!”
Holy c.r.a.p, I was really talking. I wasn't floating up toward the ceiling, going toward the light and all that nonsense. My body hurt way too much for that.
Know that I have aided you. The cold wasn't dying, it was the daemon in me, the protection he'd afforded me with his own obscene parody of a life force. The cold wasn't dying, it was the daemon in me, the protection he'd afforded me with his own obscene parody of a life force.
”I know,” I muttered. ”I know.”
The last vestiges of Asmodeus's magick sighed in me and then they bled away, and I just hurt, and felt heavy enough to sink through the floor. But I was alive. Burned, but alive.
”You son of a b.i.t.c.h,” I ground at Seamus, rolling onto my side and making it to my knees. ”That was the last jacket I owned.”
The gold aural glow still flickered softly around me and I stood, shaking off the residual flickers of magick and walking toward Seamus. He stared at me, uncomprehending, until I was almost on him. His eyes were pure black now, and his skin was waxy. The carvings on the Skull were the same pulsating black, alive and crawling over Seamus's skin.
Hex it. Even with my Lazarus act, I was too late.
Seamus turned and bolted up the stairs to the roof, leaving the Skull to rattle on the marble tiles. I guess he didn't need it anymore.
I followed Seamus, heard the shrieking chant from the stairs, and banged open the door to find him with his arms outstretched and roiling clouds in the sky overhead.
”Infinitum obscura!” Seamus bellowed, and as I watched in horror the clouds coalesced in front of the sun, plunging Nocturne City into blue twilight as if a vengeful G.o.d had stretched out his hand. Seamus bellowed, and as I watched in horror the clouds coalesced in front of the sun, plunging Nocturne City into blue twilight as if a vengeful G.o.d had stretched out his hand.
”Seamus!” I screamed over the shrieking wind. He turned and grinned when he saw me.
”Isn't it marvelous, Detective?” he shouted. ”Mathias had a vision of the world and we are alive to witness it! He was a G.o.d!”
”And what are you?” I screamed. ”You're just a rider on a dead man's power! You're nothing!”
”How wrong you are.” Seamus wasn't shouting any longer, but I could hear him as if his mouth were next to my ear. ”I am the heir apparent. I am the G.o.d's new incarnation.”
Oh, spare me. If I had a nickel for every time I'd heard some two-bit methhead shrieking the exact same invective, I could go play the tables in Las Vegas until retirement.
”You want to see?” Seamus shouted at me. ”Behold!” He spread his arms and stepped up onto the ledge at the edge of the tower, pivoting to face me. Then he spread his arms and flew.
He didn't fly like Superman, more like he was walking on air, floating up and away from me, out toward the bay. His laughter carried on the wind, distorted and childlike.
At that moment I knew two things: if I didn't stop Seamus soon, the city was seriously screwed. Also, the magick of the Skull had driven him positively bat-c.r.a.p insane.
”Why is it always me dealing with this s.h.i.+t?” I asked no one, before running down the stairs and sprinting for my car.
I followed Seamus as he floated on the raging windstorm that was bending trees double, using my portable light and judicious pressure on the horn to maneuver down Magnolia Boulevard, dodging flying tree limbs, stalled cars, and snowflake-style broken gla.s.s from windows that had imploded in the gale.
Mac answered on the first ring of my cell phone, his voice distorted by static. ”Wilder! Why do I know you have something to do with this?”
”Never mind that!” I snapped. ”There's some serious bad mojo happening, in case you hadn't noticed!”
Seamus arced along Cannery, over the Waterfront district where I'd first met Dmitri, and then went across the salt flats toward the Siren Bay Bridge.
”Get everything we have to the bridge, now!” I told Mac, and threw the phone aside. I gunned the Fairlane up to sixty miles an hour, the fastest anyone anyone had ever gone during morning rush hour in Nocturne City, I was sure, and took the bridge ramp on two tires. had ever gone during morning rush hour in Nocturne City, I was sure, and took the bridge ramp on two tires.
Seamus and I met at the apex, between Nocturne City and the peninsula, above a stretch of angry gray water whipped to rolling breakers by the storm.
I fishtailed the Fairlane and blocked the westbound lane, jerking the emergency brake to stop, and jumping out. Seamus was standing perfectly still, looking toward the city over the waist-high railing that protected the occasional intrepid pedestrian from the two-hundred-foot plunge to the water below.
The bridge was creaking, the steel cables suspending the span almost whipping as the wind whined between them, creating a ghostly wail.
”Do you see it?” Seamus asked me. ”A whole city wiped clean, to be created in Mathias's image.”
”Don't you mean your image?” I asked, approaching cautiously.
”Of course,” he agreed. ”And we'll start by improving my view.” He stretched out his hand like he was trying to rearrange the cargo s.h.i.+ps lined up along the port docks, then yanked it back in frustration. ”No! Why do his teachings elude me? I'll have to consult those f.u.c.king runes again!” He smiled wryly. ”And just when you think you have it all figured out, eh, Detective?”
I silently held up the Skull of Mathias, which I'd retrieved in the mad dash to my car. ”But we never really do.”
”Give me that!” Seamus demanded, clenching his fist.
”Why?” I taunted. ”You're all, 'I'm a G.o.d among men' and everything, so I figured you didn't need little old Mathias anymore.”
”You have no idea what you're meddling in,” Seamus said, quietly this time. I was way more afraid of his calm tones than his shouting.
”Give me the Skull,” he said again, and I saw the same blue power manifest around his fist. The first jolt had been before he'd gotten juiced up by the Skull. This one would definitely kill me.
At the base of the bridge I saw flickering blue and red lights as a line of parole cars sped toward us, but there was no time. I had no way to hold Seamus off, since my good looks and charm had obviously failed.
The smell of salt tickled my nostrils, and I looked down at the water. I'd sink it to the bottom of Siren Bay. I'd sink it to the bottom of Siren Bay.
”Give it to me or you die!” Seamus howled. I backed up to the bridge rail, grabbing a cable and stepping up, balancing on the narrow metal bar. I stretched out my free hand and let the Skull dance above the wind-racked water.
”Take it from me,” I told Seamus. I didn't shout. I didn't threaten. Standing there with the storm tearing at me, I knew what needed to be done to finish this whole sorry mess.