Dark Star, page 22
He nodded. “It’s not far, but perhaps you should stick close. And we should take these.” Barak held out the bow and remaining arrows. “Don’t touch the tips.”
Gabe nodded, taking them from his hands. “Let’s go.”
Harlan watched Dr Layla Morgan examine Robert’s lifeless body with gloved hands. At her instructions, once she had given the room a cursory examination, they shut the curtains and put the overhead lights on, allowing them to see the full, shocking image of Robert’s skin.
It was like something from a horror film. Robert’s eyes were already covered in a filmy grey, and Layla had closed them before proceeding to examine his body. The black, spidery tracks fragmented his skin like broken pottery, and Harlan still wasn’t sure whether he’d been poisoned, or if something odder had occurred.
The light also allowed him to watch Layla. Jackson had introduced them, and she had shaken his hand with a surprisingly strong grip. She was closing on sixty, Harlan estimated, a tiny birdlike woman with sharp pale blue eyes, and greying hair that still held traces of rich chestnut. She was dressed expensively, and looked as if she’d been interrupted at an evening event.
“Well,” Jackson prompted her. “What’s the verdict?”
“Bag.” She stood and peeled her gloves off in one swift motion before dropping them into the plastic bag Jackson held out for her. It was practised, smooth, and Harlan wondered how often they had both done this. “Iron, Mars’s metal of choice. I spy a pin-prick on his neck.”
Harlan thought he was hearing things. “What do you mean, Mars? The God? Or the planet?”
“I have been studying Black Cronos and their death-dealing for years,” she said, fixing Harlan with her piercing gaze. “They use their alchemy differently to many others. They utilise the planets and their corresponding metals as weapons. Over the years they have become more sophisticated. More deadly.”
Harlan must still have looked baffled—he knew he felt it—because Jackson explained, “Alchemical correspondences. Planets, metals, astronomical timing, plants, grids, experiments…all of that.” He shrugged. “Sorry. I’m no alchemist, so I can’t give you details.”
“I wouldn’t understand this even if you did!” Harlan confessed. “How do you know about that, though?” He gestured to Robert.
Layla’s lips tightened. “I know Jackson has explained our role, especially our fascination with Black Cronos. Their wartime exploits—Second World War, you understand—were horrendous, almost as bad as the Nazis. We suspect, however, it has been going on much longer. I’m referring to human experimentation, of course.”
“Of course,” Harlan said, nodding weakly. What the hell had he gotten himself into? “And now?”
“Still happening. We suspect that they recruit some voluntarily, and others…well, the vulnerable go missing every day, don’t they?”
Layla was so matter of fact about it all. It was chilling. But then again, she dealt with it far more often than he did, and would have needed to find a way to deal with it.
Harlan tried to joke. “It sounds like something from a horror film. Are they making some sort of super-army?”
Layla gave him a thin smile. “Not quite. I don’t think they have such lofty ambitions as to take over the world, but they are subverting and manipulating matter for their own ends.”
“And you honestly have no idea where they’re based?” Harlan asked, incredulous.
“No. For all the men and women that you saw at the order’s headquarters and that were at your friend’s farmhouse, they are actually not a big organisation. We’re pretty certain of that. The man that we think is at the heart of it all moves regularly. The rest are scattered to the winds, converging when they need to. Like now.”
“And the way they’re converging in France,” Jackson echoed.
Layla walked over to her leather bag that she’d left on a chair and pulled her phone out. “I need to call the team in.”
“What about JD and Mason?” Harlan asked, hoping they hadn’t already met the same fate as Robert.
“Ah, yes.” Layla stared at him again. “JD. He’s been interested in this for a long time.” Her words were weighted, her gaze speculative.
Herne’s horns. She knew all about him. Harlan glanced at Jackson, and saw an awareness behind his eyes too, as he added, ”A very long time.”
They were wondering if he knew. He laughed, almost maniacally. “Holy shit. You know who he really is. How long have you known?”
A broad smile spread across Layla’s face, making her look suddenly younger. “A few decades.”
“And you?” he asked, turning to Jackson.
“Two or three years. You?”
“A few months only. He told me himself.”
Layla sat elegantly in the chair, still watching him. “Well, this makes life easier. Do you know how the secret service came to be?”
Harlan frowned. “No, why?”
“It was invented by John Dee for Queen Elizabeth I in order to help her build her empire—which, by the way, was his idea, too. He’s always been bold in his thinking. He has an inquisitive, questing mind. Avaricious, almost.”
“Holy shit!” Harlan repeated. “Are you telling me that he’s one of you?”
Layla laughed. “No. Absolutely not. JD does not work well with others. I suppose you’ve noticed that?”
“Of course I have. He’s infuriating!”
“But,” she added, “he steps up, occasionally. Unexpectedly, too. Like now.”
Harlan felt his mouth drop open. “Are you telling me that him wanting the astrolabe was for you?”
“Not for us. But it was to stop Black Cronos.”
Harlan felt dizzy. And an idiot. “He’s been liaising with you?”
“Ha! Nothing so useful. He’s working on his own, but did think to inform us—ever so briefly.” She rolled her eyes. “But he knows where the astrolabe could lead to. How the rumoured early experiments could enhance Black Cronos’s current ones.” Layla shook her head, sighing deeply. “They might even release an old monster, if the fragments of stories are true.”
Harlan sat in the nearest chair, his legs growing weak. “I guess JD knows all this because of his age, right? His immersion in the occult world?”
“That and the fact he saw the results of their experiments first-hand during the Second World War. He was an ally then, for a while.”
“Why the hell didn’t he explain this to me?” Harlan appealed to both of them, knowing they couldn’t really answer him. “I’ve suspected him of being a nut-job, and now it seems he’s acting out of some kind of hero complex!”
Jackson shrugged. “You said it yourself. He’s odd. Maybe he was trying to protect you?”
Harlan somehow doubted that, but didn’t voice it. “But he’s gone with Mason, of all people. He hasn’t been in the field for years! He was terrible at it!” Harlan leapt to his feet, his path clear. “I have to get out there. Where the fuck are they?”
“Glad you said that,” Jackson said, smiling. “I’m booked on an early flight. Want to come?”
“Yes, of course! But—” Harlan’s gaze flew to Smythe. He felt responsible. “Who will deal with this, and tell the guild?”
“Leave that to me,” Layla said softly as she picked up her phone.
Twenty-Two
Shadow had never seen Barak look so ill. His burnished black skin was grey, and a film of sweat covered his entire body.
Gabe had landed with him cradled in his arms after Barak had become so weak that he almost fell from the sky. He now lay unconscious on the big dining room table inside the house, his wings still folded beneath him, acting as a giant bed of feathers. The glossy, jet-black plumage shot through with blue had lost its shine, too. Shadow felt sick with worry; in fact, she was terrified they would lose him.
Gabe, Nahum, and Caldwell stood close to her, as serious as she had ever seen them, and her heart went out to his brothers. They watched Estelle and Aubrey as they tended to Barak’s injuries, Ash helping them in his calm, collected way. They had already dressed his shoulder wound, cleaning out a sticky yellow substance that smelled foul. Now Estelle cleaned the graze along his ribs, while Aubrey tended the deep thigh wound. Estelle’s lips moved rapidly as she worked, much as Briar’s did when she used healing magic, although she had confessed it was not her best skill. Fortunately, they had travelled with a first aid kit filled with Briar’s medicinal balms, as well as the herbal provisions that Eli had packed.
“This is my fault,” Gabe muttered, eyes fixed on Barak.
“No, it’s not. It was Barak who suggested this,” Nahum said immediately, “and I backed him up.”
“I sanctioned it!” Gabe rounded on Nahum. “And I asked Barak to mop up the extras.”
“And he did it willingly!” Nahum shot back. “As any of us would.”
Ash raised his voice, glaring at them. “Not now, and not here!”
Shadow took Gabe’s arm, needing fresh air, and knowing he did, too. Besides, she should be on watch. “Come with me.”
“But—”
“But nothing,” she said, giving him no room to argue and propelling him out the door.
She led him to the terrace, and they leaned on the railing, looking out over the vineyards and the land around them. The cicadas had quieted, finally, and an almost full moon bathed the landscape with its silver light. But she knew Gabe wasn’t really seeing it. He looked to the far horizon, but his gaze was inward.
“He’s strong,” she told him, more to reassure herself than him. “He’ll pull through. Especially with Estelle’s magic and Briar and Eli’s balms.”
Shadow had spent an uneasy few hours with Estelle while the three Nephilim were out. Ash had been deep in conversation with Aubrey and Caldwell, leaving her and Estelle alone. They had cleared the remnants of dinner together, awkwardly polite, before Shadow had patrolled the grounds, confident they were secure because she could feel Estelle’s powerful protection spell. To Estelle’s credit, she had looked as distressed as the rest of them at Barak’s condition, pushing the others out of the way to help him.
“You were right,” Shadow conceded. “It was worth bringing Estelle.”
Gabe nodded but didn’t look around. “If he dies, I will never forgive myself.”
“His enhanced healing will flush the toxins out…or whatever they were.”
“We’re fighting something we don’t even understand.” He finally looked at her, his dark eyes questioning. “It’s like some battle that’s been raging for centuries, under the cover of darkness. Or maybe battle isn’t the right word.”
“It is, of a sort. A battle for knowledge. Advancement.”
He tried to laugh. “Enhancing humans with alchemy? It sounds insane!”
“Alchemy is science, that’s what I understand. And science enhances everything. They’re just approaching it a different way.” Shadow glanced away, the weight of his gaze feeling suddenly intimate.
Gabe gripped the railing, his arms tense as he stared over the fields again. “They pulled strange weapons on us, again. I’m trying to imagine how this will play out tomorrow, and I can’t see what we should do.”
“I’m sure it will become apparent once we’re there.”
She studied his broad shoulders and powerful arms, his sculpted chest that was visible beneath his t-shirt, and was once again aware of his heat. His thick, dark hair was swept off his face, revealing his square chin covered in dark stubble, and she wanted to comfort him, caress him, hold him. What if she were to die tomorrow? Or Gabe? Her heart faltered at the thought. To remain here without him was unthinkable. And they were out here, alone, serenaded with soft moonlight on a balmy night.
Without thinking it through, she slipped under his arms that gripped the rail and faced him. He looked down at her, startled, and she lifted her hands to his cheeks, pulling him to her lips with a sudden hunger. Desire raced through her, and it felt as if every nerve ending was on fire. His lips were soft but firm, exploring her mouth with deepening passion. His arms were suddenly around her, one hand in her hair, the other pulling her close, and she mirrored his actions, revelling in his heat that threatened to consume them both. He lifted her up, seating her on the wooden rail, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer. Time seemed suspended, everything else disappearing as Shadow realised everything felt right. When they finally eased apart, she was shocked by the longing in his eyes.
His voice was husky. “Come to my bed, now.”
“But, Gabe…” Why was she hesitating? Was it because Barak was clinging to life? Or was it because their relationship would be changed forever?
“What?” he murmured, burying his face in her neck, and covering it with kisses as his hands slid down her back. She felt breathless, giddy with desire. “I know you want this as much as I do.”
She tried to be rational, but Herne’s horns, it was hard. “But what if it all goes wrong?”
He lifted his head to stare at her again, his face inches from her own, his passion encompassing her so completely she couldn’t think straight. His voice was almost a growl. “It won’t go wrong, because it’s us.”
And with that, she was lost. He grabbed her hand, pulling her to the stairs and up to his room.
Ash watched Barak’s motionless body, and squeezed his eyes shut. For now, they had done as much as they could do. He debated appealing to their fathers for help, and then swiftly rejected it.
“I’ll watch him,” Estelle said, her clipped voice firm and decisive.
Ash’s eyes flew open. “You’ve done enough. You used a lot of magic. You probably need to sleep.”
She regarded him coolly, arrogantly even. “I’m strong enough to sustain my magic.”
“It wasn’t an insult, Estelle. I’m trying to be considerate.” He wanted to throw something at her, but instead clenched his fists. “And he’s my brother.”
“And he’s my friend!” Her eyes were burning now, fierce with intent.
Ash noticed she wasn’t touching Barak at all, but she was sitting close, her hand resting on the blanket they had thrown over him to keep him warm. They were still in the dining room, but Barak was now on a bed they had made on the floor, his head resting on a pillow, his wings still beneath him. Despite the summer night, they had the fire burning low, too. Estelle had thrown on a bundle of herbs, and their fresh healing smells alleviated the heavy atmosphere in the room.
They were also alone. Nahum and the others had headed to bed, or to the shower, in Nahum’s case—he was covered in blood—and Ash had no idea where Shadow or Gabe were.
Estelle was still glaring at him, and he needed to back off. Something was going on with these two, more than he realised. “Okay. As long as you’re sure.”
Her shoulders dropped as she took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. “I’m sure. You should sleep, too. You’ve been busy all day.”
Ash’s mind was whirling with his earlier discussions, and now the worry about Barak. He wasn’t sure he could sleep. Or if he even wanted to. “Why don’t I make us some tea? Or something stronger?”
“Tea would be good, thank you.”
He nodded and walked to the kitchen, the silence of the house falling around him. With only a low light on, he boiled the kettle and made a pot of tea, placing a mug, milk, and sugar on a tray. But he did not want tea. He needed something stronger. Something to take the edge off the evening. He took the tray to Estelle, saying, “I’m on the terrace if you need me.”
He retraced his steps, picked up a bottle of local red wine and a couple of glasses, and took them out to the terrace where he sat at the long table looking out into the night.
It wasn’t long before Nahum joined him, dressed in more casual clothes. “Good thinking,” he said, helping himself to a glass. “Estelle told me you were here.”
“I’m too wound up to sleep.”
“Me too, but Aubrey and Caldwell have gone to bed. And,” Nahum gave him a wry smile, “so have Gabe and Shadow.”
Ash nodded, absently. “Good.” And then he realised what Nahum meant and his eyes widened. “Hold on! Do you mean together?”
Nahum laughed. “Yep. That’s the only thing that’s made me smile all night. They don’t know I saw them, though. I happened to follow them up the stairs, but frankly, they were oblivious.” He took a sip of wine. “About time, too.”
“The risk of imminent death always heightens one’s emotions.” Ash sipped too, appreciating the rich, full flavours. “Who won the bet?”
Nahum grinned. “Niel keeps tally. We’ll ask him when he gets here. He should be on his way. Let’s hope nothing happens to him,” he added.
“He’ll be fine. And so will Barak.”
“Is that just wishful thinking?” All humour had left Nahum’s face.
“Partly. But Barak is strong—and stubborn, just like his fallen father.” Barak’s father had been one of the strongest of the fallen angels, and fiercely loyal to Lucifer Morningstar who had triggered the fall. Conviction had burned in his eyes, along with a fervent loathing of the old God.
“Stubbornness is nothing though if the poison is too strong.” Nahum shifted in his seat, alert with curiosity. “What did you find out from Aubrey and Caldwell?”
Ash grunted with frustration. “Alchemy has to be one of the weirdest, most complicated esoteric fields of study I’ve ever come across. They speak in our language, but it is almost incomprehensible!” He was frustrated just thinking about his discussion. “I’ve read books on it and had long conversation with two experts—two Adepts—but I am baffled. No wonder it takes years to be conversant with its laws and correspondences.”
Nahum looked puzzled. “But I thought you were familiar with it from our old days, before the flood.”
“The Emerald Tablet of Hermes Trismegistus triggered all of it, but I took little notice then. We had other things to occupy us.”
“But the super-humans, what’s with that?”
