MORTAL COILS (53 page)

“Do
what all boys your age do. Call her and ask her out on a date.”

41.
While the Coyote of Native American myths is known for his cleverness and
trickery, he was also known for his sexuality (and sexual exploits). These
stories, however, were sanitized by conservative European settlers, who may
also have discouraged the indigenous populations from retelling them. Gods of
the First and Twenty-first Century, Volume 4: Core Myths (Part 1), 8th ed.
(Zypheron Press Ltd.).

38

THE
SHADOW CABAL

Beal
Z. Buan, Lord of All That Flies, was far from the open skies he so loved. He
was in the living room of a vacated house, the so-called Devil House, which
stood among the many flattened buildings of the abandoned suburb of Love Canal
in Niagara Falls, New York.42

A
sharp metallic odor and the sweet smell of benzene seeped from the basement,
and Beal inhaled deeply, almost seeing the concentrated vapors curl about him.

The
furniture had been cleared and the carpet torn off the plywood floor by Uri.
Beal had had him sweep away the multitudes of dead cockroaches. Beal required a
pristine surface.

He
knelt and retrieved a razor blade from its cardboard sleeve. He then used the
blade to etch a large circle in the plywood. As he completed the figure, he
slit his wrist and let his blood dribble out.

It
seeped along the razor’s track . . . diffused into the filaments of the
plywood, tattooing tiny dots, squares, triangles, and cuneiform letters. The
pattern radiated out from the circle and traveled up the Sheetrock walls and
overhead until it met in the center of the ceiling.

42.
Love Canal is infamous for the toxic contamination that prompted the evacuation
of hundreds in 1980. Local legends relate that the Devil House is haunted by
those fatally poisoned. Adolescents often challenge one another to spend the
night in the building, although none have ever lasted the entire evening, and
many have been hospitalized for pulmonary edema (chemically induced pneumonia)
from the noxious vapors present on-site. Hallucinations from these influences
may account for the numerous spirit sightings. Gods of the First and
Twenty-first Century, Volume 6: Modern Myths, 8th ed. (Zypheron Press Ltd.).

Beal
then held his wrist and stanched the wound. He scrutinized the surrounding
network of ancient symbols and was satisfied.

“All
eyes and ears are blocked,” he announced. “We may speak.”

Uri
resolved from the shadows, stepping into the circle of silence to attend his
master.

Beal
did not trust his lesser distant cousin, but it gave him great pleasure to have
him near, knowing that he had taken the oath of binding and could not betray
him—not even for the sake of his former mistress, the Queen of Poppies.

“Let
me stress,” Beal said to the darkness, “that the nature of our treachery this
evening is extreme. We subvert the terms determined by the roll of dice most
sacred. The Board would be well within their rights to declare a vendetta and
destroy us.” Beal smiled and spread his hands in an expansive gesture. “But the
rewards if we succeed are equal to this risk.”

One
of the shadows stepped into the circle, clarifying into a gaunt man in a gray
suit. “Ain’t that always the way with anything worth doing?” he said, chewing a
peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich. He was Samsawell, the Ever Hungry.

Mulciber
crossed over next. He was a small, old man with gnarled hands perpetually
curled into fists. “To clarify,” he whispered, “we all get equal shares of this
reward?”

Beal
must take care to offer this old one every courtesy. Mulciber’s temper was as
great as his wisdom. Once roused, he never forgave.

“Of
course,” Beal said, and bowed.

The
last of their cabal entered, and the shadows seemed to cling to this one,
refusing to relinquish their embrace. He was a boy of fifteen in cutoff shorts
and a tank top. Only his pale eyes betrayed the cunning contained behind the
innocent façade. “You have engineered a most ineffective Board of Directors,”
Uziel said, and tilted his head. “I marvel at your machinations.”

They
stood at equidistant positions about the circle, the five prescribed points to
strengthen the silence. Beal felt the air coalesce, and crackling, it
solidified about them.

Beal
nodded to Uri, who withdrew a card table from his coat and set it up. Upon this
he unrolled a large aerial photograph.

“A
satellite map of Del Sombra,” Beal explained. “There is a single arterial road
that runs through its thirty-odd businesses, mostly restaurants and tour shops,
catering to wine enthusiasts.”

Uziel
peered down. “I had a look at this place once. A Gold Rush boom-town that
survived by making wine and beer for travelers.”

“You
didn’t notice the place for the local charm,” Samsawell muttered around his
sandwich. “What really gives?”

Uziel
leaned forward and gold hair fell into his face. “It is between places of
power, elemental, good, evil, astral, disjunctive. And like equal but opposite
water waves meeting, they cancel.”

“Del
Sombra,” Mulciber said, and came closer to examine the map. “It means ‘of the
shadows’ in Spanish.”

“A
perfect place to hide,” Beal said.

He
nodded to Uri, who overlaid a plastic sheet upon the map. Translucent red and
green colors shaded the streets and buildings.

“The
green regions,” Beal said, “are controlled or patrolled by League forces.” He
tapped one building. “This Oakwood Apartments complex appears to be a
concentration of power.”

Mulciber
smoothed his gnarled hands over the plastic. “The red areas . . . ours?”

“We
have agents there. Watching. Taking no direct action.”

“What
are these?” Samsawell touched several small uncolored regions, leaving a
sprinkle of crumbs.

“Those
are the interesting bits,” Beal said, pausing for dramatic effect. “I believed
they are caused by Louis.”

Uziel
flipped the hair from his face. “Louis is dead.”

“Is
he?” Beal said. “No one has ever confirmed that. He simply vanished sixteen
years ago in that business with the woman from the other family.”

“I
always thought it curious,” Mulciber remarked. “A power like his cannot just
vanish. It would be as if a star went missing from the sky.”

Beal
motioned to Uri, who removed another tube from his jacket, unrolled it, and
overlaid one more plastic sheet upon the map. Tiny lines and cuneiform covered
it.

“These
are the power sources we have detected,” Beal told them. “All the usual probes
and countermeasures . . . save this.” With his pinkie, he tapped the center of
a dark patch—a dancing collection of stick figures and spirals.

“That’s
the Ritual of Theophilus,” Uziel said.43

43.
Theophilus of Adana (died c. 538 CE), later known as Saint Theophilus the
Penitent, was an Orthodox cleric who made a deal with Satan to become a bishop.
He later confessed his sins, recanted his association with the devil, and had a
legitimate bishop burn his Infernal

“That’s
one of ours, then?” Samsawell asked.

“It’s
our engineering, no doubt,” Mulciber replied. “But it’s a mortal channel.
Someone begs for power.”

“I
believe it is Louis,” Beal said. “Who else would know the ritual? Who else
would be there . . . near his children?”

“Why
use such a low-order ceremony?” Samsawell asked.

“Trying
to quietly leverage his children?” Mulciber said, and rubbed his chin with one
curled hand.

Uziel
stood taller. “We came here to discuss the boy child. What is your interest in
Louis?”

Beal
smiled. “Louis, if he is indeed alive and needing power, is the key to our
plan.”

“I
see what you’re thinking.” Uziel’s eyes brightened and cast a pale blue
illumination over the map. “You believe that something tragic happened to the
great Louis Piper sixteen years ago—that he was not destroyed, but somehow . .
. what? Stripped of his power?”

“So
what?” Samsawell wiped his mouth with a napkin, now so engrossed that he had
actually stopped eating. “He comes back to watch his kids grow up? Make sure
they are safe? I don’t think so.”

“What
would be more likely,” Mulciber said, “is that Louis circles like a shark,
waiting for an opportunity, some way to use them to regain what he lost.”

Beal
nodded. “I propose this is how we outmaneuver both the Board of Directors and
the League Council. We use the greatest user of us all: Louis.”

“If
he’s really powerless,” Samsawell said, “the League and the Board might never
notice such a small fry.”

“And
if he is the boy’s father,” Uziel whispered, and touched the dark region of the
map, “I would bet he has already made contact . . . preparing the boy for some
bit of his own treachery.”

“Louis
wants power,” Beal said, “so we will give him that. We can offer him amnesty
for his past transgressions as well. In exchange, he will lure Eliot away from
the protection of the League and deliver him to us.”

“It’s
too easy,” Samsawell said, licking his lips. “Louis makes plans inside

contract,
whereupon Theophilus expired from the joy of being released from his burden (or
as others theorize, his soul was then actually forfeited to the Dark).
Considered to be the first documented account of a pact with Infernal forces.
Gods of the First and Twenty-first Century, Volume 13: Infernal Forces, 8th ed.
(Zypheron Press Ltd.).

plans
like those little Russian dolls—one inside the others. What makes you think
this isn’t all a setup?”

“And
his involvement with the other family,” Mulciber murmured, “with that woman.
Could he be working with her?”

Beal
shook his head. “Whatever the details, we are protected. Louis is outcast among
us due to his very involvement with this woman. If his attempts to get the boy
for us are discovered by the League or the Board, they will destroy him. As he
will be working alone, with no immortal attachments, there can be no
repercussions to us.”

“Like
a damned circuit breaker,” Samsawell said, and stuffed the last of his sandwich
into his mouth.

“We
are in agreement then?” Uziel looked to his fellow conspirators. “We answer
Louis’s summons and make him an offer he can’t refuse?”

Beal
bristled. He did not like that Uziel now directed his meeting. It was
undoubtedly a portent of treachery. He knew it had been a mistake to invite one
so clever and ambitious into his cabal. Some unfortunate accident must be
arranged for Uziel, but later—after he had Eliot for himself.

“A
fine plan,” Beal declared. “It has all the hallmarks of excellence: extortion,
kidnapping, and duplicity.”

Mulciber
huddled over the map and a scowl creased his weathered face. “Could this be a
trap for us? Louis is clever . . . too clever to be so easily cornered.”

“Unless
he has lost everything,” Samsawell replied. “Wouldn’t you risk everything only
if you had nothing to lose?”

They
all paused and considered.

Beal
sensed their reluctance . . . and he felt it now as well. The problem was
Louis. Even without power, he was sure to retain his razor-edged cleverness. He
had made fools of them all many times before. To think the Master Deceiver now
helpless, well, it was unthinkable. He would always be dangerous.

Uri
cleared his throat and whispered, “He does have something to lose, my lord.”