CARETAKER began her shielding spell as soon as they were in Limbo. Robbie called the Spirit and Nico cut her hand, the salt of her blood zipping through Otherplace’s thin air. Blade waited for Caretaker to nod, for Magik to open a disc onto a shaded alleyway in Queens. The portal faced a dirty painted aluminum door at the top of three pitted concrete steps. The once-white paint had chipped and was covered in dents and dirt smudges.
Nico held up the Staff of One, her expression fierce and slightly haunted. “Beku!”
“Praesidio,” Caretaker breathed, and projected her shield through the portal, a thousand winding ropes of white light twining into a wall that touched the base of the steps and extended nearly ten feet into the air.
Blade smelled soulless, and demon, and John Doe, but none of it was fresh. If there were hearts beating inside, Nico had paused them.
“It’s working,” Nico said.
“Let me check for trip wires,” Blade said, and glanced at Caretaker.
“You can walk through it. Just don’t come back the same way.”
Blade darted out of Limbo and up the steps, feeling the tug of Caretaker’s shield as he passed through, like multiple blasting air vents of vibration. He crouched in front of the door, his senses open, and touched the dingy metal. He went quickly around the sides and top. The deadbolt was thrown. He smelled chemicals inside, metal, sweat, death… and now that he knew its signature stench, the very faintest whiff of the Darkhold spell that powered John Doe’s gamma shields. Nico had codified it back in the war room.
He looked back at the Suns, blurry through the thick white light. He pointed at the door, held up three fingers. The Suns were ready. The women floated at the edge of the disc, Ghost Rider grinning and crouched to run.
Blade backed up a step, counted himself down, and kicked the deadbolt. The hollow door crunched, the door frame’s inset squealing as the thin metal tore around the bolt, and it flew wide open.
Absolute silence and stillness inside. A filthy kitchen littered with food wrappers and cake pans, broken dishes by the sink. The room glowed by the ugly green light of a small gamma box in the corner.
Caretaker released her shield as the Suns followed, its light fading behind them. Blade led the team into a shabby, used rental, two stories of thickly layered paint and cracked linoleum. The kitchen opened to a hall with two bedrooms and a half bath. The doors stood open, revealing more gamma shields. The smaller room had been used for storage, but was empty now. From lines in the dust, it was clear that a number of boxes had recently been moved out, and from the smell, at least a half-dozen dead bodies. More. There were fluids. The larger room was thick with Zarathos’s stink. A wide cot had been smashed against one wall.
Nobody home. The Triumvirate had cleared out.
“Recon,” Blade said, and left the Suns to run upstairs, noticing a hundred signs that the house had been full of people, recently—clutter, body odor, oily smears on walls and furniture. Upstairs he found an overdecorated room, strewn with clothes and mirrors, that smelled like sex and brimstone. A smaller room with another cot, neatly made, only the faintest scent of John Doe and no personal items, no papers, no evidence that anyone had slept there. A final room looked like a frat house after a kegger and smelled like a gym locker. Blankets and dirty clothes on the bare floor, testosterone, crusts of food. There were three more gamma shields in all, stilled by Nico’s spell but operating. Now that he knew what they were, Blade was repulsed by the vague, seemingly harmless scent.
He met the Suns back downstairs. Nico was looking at Robbie’s phone, at the pictures he’d taken of the spell’s signature over the city streets. Magik knelt by the gamma shield in the sparse living room, scowling at it.
“Nobody,” Blade said.
“We’ll check all of the signature sites,” Caretaker said, and the Suns nodded, but Blade could feel their collective disappointment at the anticlimax. Yes, they’d check, and maybe learn more about John Doe and the extent of the Triumvirate’s resources, but Blade thought it was pretty likely that the threesome was already at the vault, waiting for the Midnight Suns to show. The background wasn’t as important as keeping them from the amulet.
We should hit ’em before they get dug in.
Caretaker seemed to know what he was thinking. She made eye contact and shook her head ever so slightly, then addressed all of them. “If they’re not in the city, we’ll return to the Abbey for a few hours’ rest and then go on to Transia.”
“We should go now,” Ghost Rider said, and Magik nodded.
Caretaker was firm. “We still have a full day, and we’re not at strength.”
Blade couldn’t disagree. They’d already had an eventful day, and they might be in for a siege at the vault. The younger Suns needed to sleep, and an extra dose of serum was called for before he went up against Zarathos again.
“She’s right,” Blade said. “They might still surprise us at one of the other sites. Don’t get complacent. But if tomorrow’s the big game, we need to rest up so we can get there early.”
“One moment,” Magik said, and turned off the gamma machine, the sound flat in the frozen air. She slashed open a small portal and the sound of a howling wind rose into the silence. Magik tossed the heavy machine up like a softball, striking it with her sword, her lean muscles flexing. The machine exploded into a thousand glittering pieces on its way through the portal, Limbo hungrily sucking in the flying debris.
“Keep it open,” Nico said, and the other boxes from downstairs floated into the room, moving like they were on an invisible conveyer belt. The motion was slow and level, their static green beams thickening the air.
“Three upstairs,” Blade said, and the boxes appeared a few seconds later, casting murky splashes on the wall behind the stairs as they floated down. They all watched Magik smash them to bits with short, powerful strikes of her sword, watched her portal vacuum in the shattered bits. Blade wished they could keep one to study, the technology was important, but Magik and Caretaker were right about how poisonous the Darkhold was. It was better this way. Once the Triumvirate were handled, he’d conduct a more thorough investigation of John Doe’s safe houses. There had to be schematics and parts to find.
When Magik destroyed the last one, she looked deeply satisfied. Nico showed her a picture off Robbie’s phone and Magik cut a new portal, the smaller one popping out of sight.
They left the empty rental behind, stepping onto the Limbo bridge.
“Same as before,” Caretaker said, and Magik raised her glowing sword. Blade cleared his mind of expectations and then thoughts, ready to respond to whatever came next.
* * *
TWO more rental houses, both empty. Two panel vans, empty. A warehouse that Blade said had been divested of its contents very recently, perhaps only minutes before the Suns’ arrival, but of course that meant it was also empty, no Triumvirate, no secret compound of military guys, no slavering demonic guard beasts. Nico was disappointed and angsty. Now they had less than twenty-four hours. She got that they needed to be bright-eyed when they faced off with the baddies, but time seemed to be speeding along and she resented having to stop to take a nap.
“At least we know they’re not fronting a major operation,” Robbie said, stepping off the portal dais. The Abbey was already deeply in shadow. The last rays of daylight skipped off the gray ocean waves, painted a fiery trail to nowhere. “All of those places were dumps.”
“And that they await us in Transia,” Magik said. “We should not linger here.”
“We will eat and then rest,” Caretaker said, leading them toward the Abbey’s east entrance. Its many windows glowed with warm candlelight, lit by the chandeliers and lamps that flickered to life whenever it got dark outside. The torches that flanked the door cut through the gathering shadows, lighting their path. For a gothic pile, it was super homey.
“Nico, do you know the spell for healing sleep?” Caretaker asked. The heavy door at the top of the Abbey’s steps opened for them.
“No, but I know the deep-meditation one, from the Sartorius.” Nico said. The receptive, thoughtless state lasted about an hour and a half, and coming out fully rested happened to be a side-effect. She used it all the time when she stayed up too late watching movies or reading.
“Good, that’s fine,” Caretaker said, leading them toward the kitchen. “After dinner, you and Robbie will use it. We’ll leave for Transia when you wake.”
Charlie trotted in, panting, and Blade flashed off to his room. Nico cooed over the good girl, who allowed herself to be petted but kept her eye on Caretaker, who was looking through the cabinets.
“What shall it be?” Caretaker asked. Blade reappeared, sans weapons and coat, and pulled a chair out from the table.
“Supreme pizza,” Robbie said.
“Think fortifying, King,” Nico said.
“Extra pepperoni and sausage, then.”
“You’ll destroy the Triumvirate with your breath,” Nico said.
“Burn out their eyes,” he agreed.
“Chef salad and miso soup,” Nico said, and Magik nodded.
Caretaker took out a platter and carried it to the table, a loaded, steaming pizza appearing as she set it down. She waved her hand and there were plates and bowls and napkins, a pitcher of ice water and glasses.
Nico lifted the pitcher with a thought and poured, rubbing the soft skin around Charlie’s horns. “Do you want any help?” she asked.
“No, I’ve got it,” Caretaker said, setting an empty pot on the table, the rich scent of miso steaming out when the flat bottom touched the wood. A giant bowl of salad was next, full of cheese and deli meat and egg, and a plate of warm rolls. Silverware appeared next to each plate, along with a glass bottle of vinaigrette.
Caretaker looked the table over and sat down. When she picked up her spoon, the bowl in front of her filled. Everyone but Blade loaded their dishes, and though they discussed tactics and spells while they ate, the atmosphere was anything but grim. Robbie kept talking trash about the Triumvirate. Nico fed Charlie slivers of meat under the table, and the hellhound had the good sense to be discreet. Magik recounted a little of Zarathos’s history, about how Mephisto had defeated him. There was a feeling like Christmas Eve, an anticipation that had everyone interested and alert.
And Caretaker’s here. Caretaker had mostly stopped eating with them after Agatha died. Nico hadn’t realized how much she’d missed it until now, tonight, with all of them in the same room and talking and there was no horrible tension or cold silence. Blade was leaned back, legs crossed. Magik and Caretaker both smiled at Robbie’s crack about Zarathos having a skull for a head.
Caretaker stood up finally. “We’ll meet at the forge in two hours. We’ll want light body armor in case they’ve armed their soulless. I meant to have new armor forged, but I’m afraid time got away from me.”
“We’ll manage,” Nico said. They weren’t even going to need it. They were going to show up the same way they’d hit John Doe’s shield sites—magic forward, careful. Whatever happened, they’d be ready. Magik and Robbie would open some Hell portals and the Suns would shove the villains through. When the seal finally expired, they’d bring the vault to the Abbey, where it would be safe.
“I know you will,” Caretaker said. “There’s no alternative. But regardless of the outcome, I will be there to fight alongside you.”
Nico wanted to say something as powerful, to let the old woman know that her support was appreciated. “I’m proud to be in the Midnight Suns,” she blurted instead.
“Same,” Blade said, the others nodding.
“It’s an honor,” Robbie said. “The Spirits of Vengeance think so, too.”
“I have faith that we will serve the Balance well, now and in future days,” Magik said.
Caretaker nodded. “And so we shall. Two hours.”
She blinked out of the kitchen before anyone had a chance to thank her for dinner.
“Anyone else getting a last-supper kind of vibe?” Robbie asked.
“Last supper before we dominate,” Nico said, and Robbie leaned in for a fist bump.
All the Suns stood, Blade flashing off to his room, Magik saying she wanted to take a walk. Charlie trotted after her. Nico and Robbie were left meandering toward their rooms. Nico felt a sharp tug in her guts, a low internal heaviness, and sighed. Her period was due. The Staff of One responded to her cycles; for six days a month she didn’t have to cut herself to call it up, but she probably wouldn’t start for another day.
Figures. It would show up too late to be useful, but just in time to give her cramps for the big showdown. She’d have to wear a pad, too. Fun.
“I don’t even feel tired,” Robbie said, opening his door. He kicked off his boots and dropped his jeans, keeping his T-shirt and boxers on as he flopped on his bed.
“Doesn’t matter,” Nico said. “You won’t sleep, exactly, just… like, extremely zone out. You can wake yourself up if you try hard enough, but you won’t want to—it’s chill. The spell will wear off on its own, and you’ll just be awake all of a sudden, feeling like you got a solid ten hours.”
“That’s how you get away with all the late-night movies,” Robbie said. “Man, I could have used some of that when I was in school. You’ve been holding out on me.”
“Witch’s advantage,” Nico said. “Get comfy.”
Robbie lay down, pulling his blanket up to mid-chest.
“No Sleeping Beauty moves when I’m out,” he said, and batted his mismatched eyes at her.
“In your dreams, loser.”
Robbie chuckled. Nico recited the familiar words of the spell, changing the pronouns, and Robbie’s eyelids drifted closed, his body relaxing completely. Nico closed his door on the way out and headed for her room. She wanted to take a shower but decided she’d have time when she woke up.
The dim halls were silent, and it felt late, though in fact it wasn’t even full night. Nico was wide awake, excited and nervous to go back to Transia. She wished Wanda was coming with them. The Scarlet Witch was as strong as Magik, stronger probably; Agatha had said that neither Wanda nor Nico had fully tapped their potential. Wanda was doing okay: the last time they’d texted she’d been settling in at the Sanctum Sanctorum, busy, still not ready to talk about the accident.
Poor Agatha. That was the only thing missing tonight, Nico thought, opening her door: Agatha’s wizened smile, her calm humor. She’d been the glue that had held the Suns together, she’d been their biggest cheerleader, and Nico’s real, true friend.
Ebony was curled and asleep on the folded quilt at the foot of Nico’s bed, and Nico’s eyes prickled again. Agatha wasn’t really gone, not really.
“Yeah, I’m PMS all over,” she said, sniffling, and Ebony raised her soft head, blinking at her.
“Sorry to wake you, gorgeous,” Nico said, sitting on the bed. “I’m going to have to pet you a little, too.”
Ebony allowed the trespass, even rubbing her cheek against Nico’s fingers. Nico kicked her pillow off the bed so she could lie with her face near the sleek cat and keep stroking her.
“You can stay as long as you like,” she whispered, and Ebony started licking one paw, purring.
Nico recited her spell and Ebony’s soft rumbling contentment followed her into the warm dark. When she opened her eyes again, the cat was gone, and it was time to get ready to go.
* * *
ZARATHOS sat in contemplation of the vault for many hours, observing the seal, learning its magic. Only time would open it, but if he could find the exact vibration the seal was looking for, he believed he might be able to mimic the condition. Satana and Fenn were busy setting up a defense above ground, mostly, but they appeared at the edge of Zarathos’s focus several times, dropping into the vault’s chamber to take measurements or seed the ground. Zarathos ignored them, concentrating deeply.
When he had memorized the patterns of the complicated lock, it came to him what he might do… but he needed more power—a lot of it.
Zarathos stood and willed himself to the nearest large collection of mortals, finding them north of Transia at the edge of a small town. A rickety wooden stadium of several hundred souls watched a handful of men kick a ball across a wide green field. Ideally there would be more, but he would take what he could get. When Zarathos manifested near one of the big nets, there were shouts and laughter, although the humans nearest to him screamed and tried to get away, stampeding up the tiers of creaking stairs that encircled the field.
He didn’t wait for their terror; he wanted to return to the vault immediately. Zarathos raised his arms and breathed in, letting his hunger be known—
—and countless souls flowed into him, ripped from their vessels, pouring across the field. He felt himself grow, expand. The transference lifted him off the ground, the torrent of souls like a fountain, pushing him high into the air.
Zarathos waited until the last straggling souls joined his essence and then roared, triumphant, and the ground shook so hard that the walls of the arena crumpled, crushing many of the empty vessels. Their pain was sweet and he brought what was left of the stadium down on top of the screaming survivors with a wave of one hand, the rich scent of gore and splinters following him back to the vault’s chamber. Every particle of his being was spinning with power and purpose. He sat on the ground and rocketed through the astral plane, through the dimensions that would soon align, tasting the air, changing his essence to recreate it. When he returned to his body, he was ready.
The succubus appeared before him, her gaze crawling over his form. “My lord, you have fed again, and traveled far.”
“I understand what the seal seeks,” Zarathos said. “Watch.”
He spoke the words of his intention, but it was his increased power that gave them direction. The air in the chamber changed, the flavors of a dozen dimensions whirling into being.
Zarathos listened to the seal, and felt it was changing, too.
Satana disappeared, returning with Fenn seconds later. The man had his device and he mumbled to himself, turning the dials. When he spoke, his voice was high, excited.
“The seal is starting to give! At this rate, it will dissolve in less than an hour!”
The succubus clapped her hands, and immediately started gushing at Zarathos’s brilliance and strength. Fenn’s eyes were wide and he went over his measurements again, showing all of his tiny square teeth.
Zarathos was gratified, but also impatient. He was bursting with power and barely half full.
I can eat so much more. In an hour’s time he could swallow a whole city and wouldn’t even need the Varkath Star to challenge Mephisto. He could—
“The Midnight Suns are here,” Satana said, and smiled, her eyes sparkling. “To the east.”
“Release the fire-demons,” Zarathos said, and Satana popped away.
The air in the chamber was already changed; the seal would continue to unravel quickly. Zarathos decided that it would amuse him to see their enemies fall. Watching the Midnight Suns die would whet his appetite for the coming chaos. Zarathos reached for the dimensional rift that Satana had created and left the vault’s chamber.