REVENANT (Descendants Saga) Page 16

  Harrison’s hands shook as he accepted a steaming cup of tea from Grayson. “If you had told these things to me two weeks ago, I would have said you were stark raving mad. But I’ve witnessed what’s been happening in this city. I can’t say that anymore. They are like the dead come to life. They’re destroying everything here.”

  “This will spread,” Grayson said. “It will soon come to every city in this country, if I don’t stop it.”

  “What can you do?”

  “I have the power to cast these devils back to the pit from whence they’ve come,” Grayson said confidently. “I have been sent to you as a savior.”

  “Then why have you not stopped this already?” Harrison said, standing to his feet. “Why have you done nothing while so many perish?”

  “I need your faith in order to accomplish this thing,” Grayson said, standing with the President. “Surely, you have read of this in the scriptures.”

  Harrison nodded enthusiastically. “I have, as a boy. But I have to know, if what you say is true, that you have this power.”

  Grayson smiled. He snapped his fingers and the flames in the hearth diminished to nothing. Harrison watched cautiously, glancing back to Grayson. His escorts readied their rifles—the President might be in danger.

  Grayson glanced at the men. Their weapons were torn from their hands, flying into the sitting room and clattering onto the hardwood floor in a pile. He looked back at Harrison, grinning.

  “We wouldn’t want to catch a chill on this winter day,” Grayson said. On cue, flames leaped up on the grate within the hearth. The fire burned as bright and warm as it had before.

  Harrison was noticeably shaken by what he had seen, as were his men standing a dozen paces away. “I believe you,” he said. “Please, send these devils back to the Hell.”

  Grayson smiled. “Mr. President, it would be my pleasure.”

  “When?” he asked anxiously.

  “You must bring the people to witness what I do,” Grayson insisted.

  “What people? How many?”

  “Everyone. Anyone. As many as can be brought to be witnesses,” Grayson said. “The faith of the people is what is required. By their faith I can cast these devils out of this world.”

  “I’ll get to work on it right away,” Harrison promised. “We’ll assemble as many as possible—thousands will come.”

  “Then I’ll allow you to get to your task,” Grayson said. He placed his hand on the President’s shoulder, moving him toward his men and the door. “Be ready by noon tomorrow.”

  “We will,” Harrison said, joining his men. They hurried to get their weapons from the floor and then followed the President out the door to the carriages.

  Barclay closed the door behind them. Grayson returned to his armchair, his tea and his book. “Have my favorite prepared for lunch,” he said.

  “Yes, sir,” Barclay answered. “Very good, sir.”

  Grayson opened his book back to one of his favorite parts: the fall of Adam and Eve into sin when deceived by the serpent. “I always did enjoy good comedy,” he said with a smile.

  Consolation

  Oliver had come as soon as the Queen’s messenger found him and relayed her urgent desire to speak with him. He had managed to complete the last of the portal deconstructions ahead of his estimates. As far as he knew, Donatus and his brother, Laish, were doing the same.

  He brought himself and the messenger back much faster by teleportation. “The Queen awaits in the King’s meditation chamber,” the messenger said.

  Oliver made his way through the palace halls. People were busy preparing rations of food which would be given to each warrior in preparation for the battle most felt was coming. After all, it stood to reason that Anubis would come to claim the very city he had founded nearly two millennia ago.

  When he reached the chamber, Oliver passed through the invisible membrane that kept sound out and vice versa. Queen Sophia was seated upon one of the small grassy knolls where it was comfortable to rest and think upon whatever issues were necessary. Oliver passed one of the fountains of waters and stood before her.

  “What has happened?” he asked.

  She had obviously been crying recently.

  “Where is Brody?” he finally thought to ask.

  Sophia looked up at him with red-rimmed eyelids and tears beginning anew. “I’ve done something terrible, Oliver,” she began. “I’ve hurt him.”

  “Hurt him how? What has happened?”

  She could barely speak for her sobbing. “The elders wanted me to choose a husband of my people.”

  Oliver’s heart sank within him. “And you told Brody this?” he asked gently.

  “I have a responsibility to my people, Oliver. What was I supposed to do?” she pleaded.

  “I understand, Sophia,” he said after a moment. “But I’m sure Brody would not.”

  She shook her head. “He didn’t,” she confirmed. “I didn’t want to, but I’ve hurt him terribly, and now he’s gone.”

  Oliver sighed and sat down on the grass beside her, feeling suddenly weary. “I’m sure he’ll return. He just has to sort through his feelings. You have to give him time to accept this. He’s very much in love with you—has been for some time.”

  “But I was wrong, Oliver,” she said. “I had a vision of my life with him, of our daughter.”

  “A vision you say?”

  “But there was another image also, competing with the first, overcoming the first, so that I was left alone with no one but my royal responsibility and my heartache and loss.”

  Oliver felt some relief at hearing this. “Well, then you realize your mistake. When Brody returns you can easily mend this breach between you. Just tell him how you really feel about him. I’m sure he will still feel the same as he has all of this time.”

  She was crying more now. “But he went away in anger,” she said. “He said he had no reason to live in this world. He meant to face Grayson Stone and end this conflict by himself.”

  Oliver straightened. “Oh, no. How long ago did he leave?”

  “A day,” she said. “After our meeting together. You must save him, Oliver. Promise me that you will.”

  Oliver stood, heading for the doorway. “I will do what I can.”

  A flash of light took him from the palace before he had even exited the chamber. Sophia laid down upon the grass again. She had caused this. If Brody died, she would blame herself for it until she passed from this world.

  “Please, Heavenly Father, please don’t allow him to be killed.”

  Thousands of Lycans marching beneath the banner of Anubis stood ready in the middle of the street in Whitehall. There were no horses or riders, only warriors waiting to be unleashed. They had spears and swords in their hands, but they might just as easily drop these in favor of teeth and claws and the bare necks of their enemies, if opportunity arose.

  Anubis stood at the head of them all, in the street, preparing to construct the portal that would allow them access to the city of Tidus once again. So far, he had found all previous entryways deconstructed. The city had somehow been cut off from the physical world of humankind.

  This, he knew, would have taken powerful Superomancers, or the powers of an angel to accomplish. Those who had come from the city, defecting from their new queen at his calling, had brought reports of other Descendants coming to stand with Lycean’s daughter. His host, Kron, also had knowledge of that invasion by elf soldiers and trolls.

  This would be more enjoyable than Anubis had first anticipated. He and his children would have the honor of destroying more than just rebels of their own kind. The trolls and elves would be theirs as well.

  A disturbance began to interrupt his thoughts. He could sense what was coming—who was coming—before he actually arrived. The air became still, deathly still. Not a cricket chirped despite nightfall approaching fast.

  It started as a dancing flame in the center of the street. His warriors broke ranks only when the flame became
a whirlwind of fire. It came toward Anubis, but he did not flinch away, did not move in the least, but only regarded it.

  The whirlwind dissipated quickly, leaving Southresh standing in its place. “Brother,” he said, addressing Anubis. He turned to regard the soldiers waiting anxiously. “Have I come at a bad time?”

  “You always did tend toward the melodramatic,” Anubis said. “What does the mad god desire here?”

  “Freedom,” Southresh hissed, approaching him.

  Anubis did not back away. “You have that already.”

  “But for how long?” Southresh asked, speaking in hushed tones. “Do not tell me that you have not considered the end of our situation, Anubis. I know you are wiser than that.”

  Anubis did not answer.

  “Your army, this invasion,” Southresh continued. “You mean to take back your city, but you know Lucifer will not allow you to keep it.”

  Anubis lowered his eyes from his waiting soldiers to meet Southresh’s gaze.

  Southresh grinned at him. “So, you have thought of this more than you pretend.”

  “I consider all possibilities,” Anubis confirmed. “We should enjoy the freedom we have while we have it. Anything more is folly.”

  “Is it?”

  “Yes,” Anubis answered.

  “I have a way that could anchor us in this world, even after Lucifer has finished with us,” Southresh said. “Tidus could be yours forever.”

  “Foolishness,” Anubis said after a moment.

  Southresh grinned at him. “Black did not think so.”

  “Black?” Anubis asked. “What does he have to do with this?”

  “He has counseled me on the matter. He can be our anchor, if we do as Lucifer did for us and bring him through.”

  Anubis paused, considering these words more carefully.

  “Black believes a joint effort will produce the power necessary to extend his spirit into this world as we are now,” Southresh continued. “With him in the world, our anchor will not only rest with Lucifer and his fleeting designs for us. We can be free, if we are willing only to share this with Black.”

  “What about Hageddon?” Anubis asked. “He may not go along with such a plan. He is very loyal to Lucifer.”

  “But which is more important: loyalty or freedom?” Southresh reasoned. “Which would you choose?”

  “I am not Hageddon,” Anubis answered.

  “You must help me convince him. He may listen to you.”

  Anubis laughed at this. “You are truly mad, Southresh,” he said. “You know the hatred between us and our Descendants. My participation would only sabotage the effort. No, you must go alone. I have an invasion to attend.”

  Southresh grumbled.

  “If you want freedom so badly, then see to it,” Anubis said. “I will be ready when you require.”

  Southresh stepped away, walking back down the street as Lycan soldiers stepped aside, giving the mad god a wide berth. He burst into flames, while walking through the midst. When the flames disappeared, so did Southresh.

  Intervention

  I could not bring myself to return to Tidus. How would it have looked for me to come crawling back there after the words I had left Sophia with? I had promised to stop Grayson Stone personally. I could not return until I had accomplished that task. However, I had no idea how to do it.

  There was a commotion in the city today. News had spread like wildfire that Lord Grayson Stone would be in Philadelphia with President Harrison at an event that would surely rid the city of the monsters that were waging war in its streets. I had been dining at a family owned restaurant in the town of Chester just outside of the city when the news came through.

  Flying back as a falcon, I noticed that thousands were making the exodus to Philadelphia in order to witness whatever miracle Grayson Stone intended to pull off. I had been chased away by Southresh earlier. However, I reasoned that the mad god would be far more occupied with Grayson’s arrival than with looking for me to return.

  I came down in the form of the falcon, descending into an alley near the crowd marching through the street. The temperature was unseasonably warm, which only added to the throng of people who had come to see the man who would save them. I made the transformation back to human form and then fell in with the crowd in the attire of a poor laborer.

  We were fast approaching the zone of destruction where Southresh and his demon-possessed reigned supreme. I couldn’t help but wonder what Southresh would actually do when faced with his imminent dismissal back to Tartarus. What little I knew of him did not reassure me of his undying loyalty to Lucifer or anyone else. Grayson and his father may have had a plan, but the question remained if Southresh would simply go along with it.

  The President had already arrived by carriage and was now standing upon a hastily constructed platform for the occasion. We were now well within the swathe of destruction caused by the demon, but not so deep in their territory that the crowd and the President could not escape if need be.

  I made my way through the throng of people toward the President’s platform. When I was close enough to see clearly, I noticed Grayson sitting astride a midnight black stallion. The president was standing next to him on the platform, speaking.

  The horse stood stone still beneath Lucifer’s son. I did not see any other recognizable Descendants in the vicinity. Presumably, Grayson was just going to ride out and do battle.

  Then I heard gasps and cries building among the crowd. Briefly, it was uncertain what had caused such alarm. Then I saw them. The demon possessed had gathered en masse nearly a quarter mile down the street from where we were. Already, many people were beginning to retreat, anticipating more of the same kind of violence they had witnessed over the past week from these creatures.

  A shout came from Grayson as his horse charged into the space between the devils and the crowd. “Do not fear these abominations!” he cried. “I have come to save you from this horde and their master!”

  Grayson carried no weapon with him that I could perceive. He turned the horse toward the people. “Have faith in me, if you wish to be delivered from this scourge!”

  The people may have come to see this man, but I could not sense much faith among them. They appeared to be terrified, despite Grayson’s bravado. However, they had come all this way to see some great thing. He would have their benefit of the doubt.

  He turned his steed back toward the approaching horde of demon-possessed and rode hard for them, shouting a cry of war. The crowd shared a collective gasp. I expected some sort of sham. Southresh had, so far, not appeared.

  The demons came running now, nearly matching the speed of Grayson’s horse. When the distance had been closed between them, the devils leaped at him. Grayson through out his hands, in turn, knocking them away with an invisible fist. They flew back into the buildings, crashing through windows and into walls—a great commotion and one that drew anxious applause from the crowd around me.

  Grayson lighted from his horse, seeming to fly through the air and land upon his feet like a cat. Bolts of lightning flew from his fingertips, knocking down many of the demon-possessed. Others he allowed to get in close. These he man-handled with ease, pummeling them with fists like iron, throwing them this way and that, contorting his body like an Asian monk.

  It was a grand show, all of it meant to impress the crowd that was hanging on every second that elapsed. I knew better than to believe that any of this was actually happening the way it seemed to be. A cleverly choreographed play. And, yet, the primary antagonist had not made his entrance upon the stage.

  The demon-possessed now began a hasty retreat. At first, there were cheers aplenty from the crowd, led by President Harrison himself. Grayson waxed triumphant. However, minutes after the retreat, Southresh had still not shown himself.

  Someone on the platform with the President asked, “Is that it then?”

  Awkward silence.

  “Face me, foul demon!” Grayson cried to the surrounding
burnt buildings. “Are you a coward?”

  This bravado was all fake as well, but I noticed that Grayson appeared to be getting more and more angry in the process. He looked frustrated. Southresh hadn’t shown himself. He wasn’t playing along.

  Minutes more passed with no further resistance offered. Grayson, however, would not allow his anxiety to show to the people he had arranged to witness his victory over evil. He turned, raising his fists toward the crowd. Shouts of praise rang out in the city for him.

  I stood watching, able to see every line upon his face, every muscle twitch. Grayson Stone was not happy with this outcome, but he was going to make the most of if. Southresh, or no, he meant to become the savior these people desired. President Harrison received him back at the platform, after he dismounted his horse.

  The crowd also went to meet him. They wanted to see him up close, to touch his clothing, to have his name upon their lips. They commented about never seeing such a man as this before. Who could possibly stand against him? No doubt, their problems would now be solved.

  I looked at him with disgust. He was pulling off this deception despite the disappointing turnout from Southresh. However, while everyone else was lining up to kiss the man’s hand and call him their deliverer, I was wondering what had happened to the missing player.

  Southresh had clearly not been dismissed prior to this performance, which meant he was a defector. Certainly not to the side of good, but away from Lucifer and his plans. Had my words somehow made a difference in his thinking? I had no way except his absence to know.

  And, now that he had disobeyed, what was he doing? Southresh would not be idle with his time. He would be plotting. If I were him, I would be working out a way to remain free. The question remained: how could that be accomplished?

  For now, Grayson was receiving what he wanted in support from the people and even the President of the United States. Harrison was being duped by a powerful con and he didn’t even know it. I had to warn him somehow. I had to get near in order to do that.

  By the time the President’s caravan of coaches left the square, Grayson had pledged to rid not only Philadelphia of this menace, but also every city in the world where it cropped up. President Harrison lent Stone his full public support. And Grayson was to return with him to Washington as his guest for a ball to be held in his honor.