Goetic Justice 2

It was the first time that he had ever heard her talk about her mother, but he stifled his curiosity. There would be time to talk later.

"I've never been more glad to see you," he said, "follow me. I know where to go."

He shouldered his rifle and set off down one of the many corridors that led out of the cavernous warehouse, Nahash trotting along behind him with her sword in hand. The ceiling was more than high enough that she could walk unimpeded. He was about half way to his target, but if the alarm had not yet been raised, then it would be soon. They had to reach Carlisle before he was moved to a safe location. There could be impenetrable bunkers and vaults down here for all Ryan knew.

They came to a three-way junction, and he halted, taking a moment to remember his mental map.

"This way," he said, taking a left turn. As they rounded the corner they ran directly into a group of three guards, everyone screeching to a stop about ten feet apart. Time seemed to freeze for a brief moment, like the calm before a storm, the two parties staring each other down with wide eyes. Then everyone began to move at once.

Ryan was fast, bringing his rifle to bear against the nearest Mason, but Nahash was faster. It was like everyone else was moving in slow motion, like they were trying to run underwater as the graceful Seirim leapt forward on her long legs. In one step she had closed the distance, and she swiped her sword in the blink an eye, the curved blade flashing as it reflected the harsh light from the lamps above them. It cleaved through the neck of the nearest guard like a knife through butter, flames flashing where it came into contact with him. It cauterized the wound, sending the man's head spiraling through the air without spilling a drop of blood. She chained together another blow before the enemy had a chance to react, reversing the blade in her hand so that the wicked scythe was facing her next target, the sword whistling through the air as it split the next man's head between the eyes and nose. He was dead before the first body had even hit the floor.

The third was turning to face the most immediate threat, intending to fire at her from the hip, but Ryan squeezed his trigger and put a burst through his chest. He fell, and Nahash halted, holding her weapon ready to swing as her next target slumped to the ground.

"Jesus," Ryan muttered. "I was going to get a gun license when we got back to civilization, but maybe we should just keep one of those swords handy."

"Told you I could handle myself."

As they pressed onward, an alarm began to ring out, echoing through the hallways. The lights dimmed, replaced by strips of red warning lighting that illuminated the passage in a blood-red glow, like an old darkroom for developing photographs.

"Well they definitely know we're here now," Ryan said, checking his magazine again. "We need to pick up the pace or the whole damned facility is going to be gunning for us."

They made their way along a few more snaking corridors, the red lighting making it harder to see. As they neared their destination, they came across a long hallway, perhaps a hundred meters from end to end and almost completely straight save for a slight incline. Ryan could just make out shapes moving in the distance, and then a muzzle flash illuminated a line of soldiers that were blocking the corridor. Five of them were standing shoulder to shoulder, clad in heavy armor that almost looked like bomb disposal or riot gear. Their clothing was thick and padded, with high collars that protected their necks, and each one was wearing a helmet with a full-face visor.

More gunfire followed, impacting the far wall as Ryan and Nahash dove out of the way, the Seirim shielding him with her body as the rounds ricocheted. He felt her flinch as a stray bullet hit her somewhere in the back, but she kept him trapped in her arms until the hail of automatic fire ceased. Fortunately, the winding nature of the tunnels offered them some cover.

"Are you hurt?" Ryan asked as she released him, the Seirim leaning her shoulder against the wall. "Let me see..."

She turned her back to him reluctantly, and he saw two wounds, one from a bullet and one from what looked like a fragment. One was on her lower hip just above her rump, and the other was in her shoulder. Dark blood leaked from the punctures, like black ink as it contrasted with her porcelain skin.

"My wounds are not fatal," she insisted, "I can go on."

"Do you have enough energy to save yourself if you go down?" Ryan asked.

"Do not worry about me," she said, "my body is disposable. Yours is not."

Ryan peeked around the corner and saw that the line was advancing. The soldiers had what looked like riot shields, and they were moving in a phalanx, their rifles pointed forward. It was an impenetrable barrier that completely filled the hallway, no doubt bulletproof, and the second that either of them emerged from cover they would be cut down.

"Is there another way around them?" Nahash asked.

"I...don't know," Ryan admitted, "Gaap only showed me one route. It's possible, these tunnels are a maze, but we'd be just as likely to get hopelessly lost."

"Then we have to push through," Nahash replied grimly, clutching the handle of her sword.

"But we'd be cut down before we got anywhere near them and I can't shoot through those shields. Surely you don't have enough energy to just absorb all that gunfire?"

"No," she replied, "but I may have enough for another maneuver...give me the ring."

He was confused by her request, but he trusted her, slipping the black wedding band off his finger and handing it to her.

"What are you going to do?" he asked.

"When you hear a commotion, start shooting," she said as she inched towards the corner. Before he could ask her for more details, she leapt out into the open, braying as she charged towards the line with her blade raised. Ryan watched her, staying behind cover as best he could. The men hesitated, then opened fire, all five of them unloading on Nahash. Despite her speed she couldn't close the distance in time, it was impossible.

His heart sank as he watched the hail of bullets tear through her, the Seirim convulsing under the impacts. Instead of blood, where the projectiles tore through her pale flesh he saw spurts of what resembled black oil, the substance hanging in the air as if it was underwater. As she fell, she pulled her arm back and threw the ring, and then her body dispersed into a dark smear as she hit the floor.

The line of armored soldiers continued on, marching ever closer to him, their shields banging against the ground with every step that they took. He clutched his weapon, hoping that Nahash's plan hadn't been to just kamikaze into them and hope for the best.

He glanced down at his forearms, watching as the fine hairs stood on end, the temperature dropping noticeably. Ryan chanced another glance around the corner, seeing a dark shape forming behind the line of soldiers, the formless mass slowly taking a recognizable shape.

Nahash was birthed from the shadows, her curved sword flaring to life in a burst of flame, illuminating her ashen skin and her white wool in an orange glow. She had thrown the ring behind the line, using her stores of energy to reform after they had destroyed her physical body. They hadn't noticed her, perhaps their helmets restricted their vision too much, and Ryan watched in awe as she waded into them. She brought all of the grace and poise that he saw in her dancing into battle with her, flowing like water as she strode into their midst.

Her newly forged blade still glowing red-hot, she sliced through their padded armor like it was nothing, setting their clothing alight wherever it touched them. One of them was beheaded, his riot shield clattering to the ground and alerting the rest, his helmeted head rolling down the incline like a football. They tried to turn, but they were so cumbersome, their heavy armor and equipment limiting their reaction times.

Someone pointed his rifle at her, but she swung her sword and cleaved it in half before he could fire it, the metal slagging as the barrel and part of the forward grip fell away. She followed up with flurry of deft blows that removed both of his arms at the elbow, his scream muffled by his helmet. He fell back, the sleeves of his suit catching fire where her flaming sword had struck him and the stumps charred black.

Ryan took advantage of the chaos, leaning out from his hiding place and firing into the figures. Even in the red-tinted gloom, he could easily make out the Seirim's white skin, combat experience that was not his own informing him that the risk of friendly fire was within acceptable limits.

He wasn't sure that his rounds had penetrated their thick armor, but he got their attention, one of them turning his shield towards Ryan and attempting to return fire. Instead, Nahash took advantage of his distraction to split his head from the eyebrow to the cheek. She was surgically precise, and the blade seemed to be impossibly sharp, Ryan had never seen anything like it.

He kept up his suppressing fire as she finished off the two remaining soldiers, rending limbs and carving bone like it was no more solid than packing foam, the corpses that she left in her wake catching fire. When she was done, he hurried towards her, swapping out his spent magazine for a fresh one as he stepped around the dismembered bodies. He had never seen such carnage, it looked like the aftermath of a highway accident, but he was able to push the nausea and the fear to the back of his mind. Perhaps that was one of the skills that the soldier whose memories and experiences he now possessed had learned, how to deal with this shit without passing out or throwing up.

"Quick thinking," he said, impressed by her feint. "Carlisle should be just ahead. Stay behind me, I know how to breach a door...or at least I have the memories of someone who did."

Ryan took a knee and searched for his ring for a moment, returning it to his finger. Then he retrieved one of the riot shields, struggling to lift it. It was far heavier than he had anticipated and he wasn't exactly a bodybuilder, but he managed to raise it. There was a door at the end of this hall and to the right, outwardly identical to the hundreds of others, but Ryan knew that Carlisle was behind it.

They came upon the door in question, and Ryan tried the handle, but it was locked. He pulled back and gave it a kick, trying to break the mechanism, but this was no rickety cabin door. It was made of metal, reinforced. There was no way through, unless...

"Nahash, can you use your sword to burn through the locking mechanism?"

She nodded and braced herself against the door, pressing the point of the blade against the metal just below the handle.

"Look away, it will be bright."

He turned his back to her, covering the hallway behind them as the red glow of the warning strips was overpowered by a white glare. She hadn't been joking, it was like a cutting torch, he could feel the heat from it on his back. It took her a few moments, and then she tapped him on the shoulder to indicate that she was done, Ryan turning to see a stream of molten steel pouring down the door from the hole where the handle had been.

He readied his shield and gestured for her to stand behind him, ducking behind it and swinging the door open. Immediately he felt several impacts against the shield, like someone was hitting it with a hammer, shots ringing out as he advanced. He peered through the reinforced glass window, seeing a man with a bushy beard clad in purple robes and sporting all manner of ornate jewelry. He was standing behind a desk upon which dozens of yellowed scrolls and dusty tomes were strewn, pointing a revolver at Ryan, a wisp of smoke rising from the barrel.

"Six shots!" Ryan called out, "you're empty!"

Carlisle threw down the weapon in frustration and Ryan emerged from behind his shield, keeping his rifle trained on the man. Ryan had never hated anyone before. Even his ex-girlfriend Becky, the woman who had plunged his life into a downward spiral, had not been worthy of his contempt. He no longer saw her as anything other than a stupid and fickle girl. But when he looked at Carlisle, he seethed. He wanted to hurt him, to kill him, and not because he posed any immediate danger.

He felt Nahash's hand on his shoulder, the Seirim no doubt sensing his rage, and her presence calmed him.

"So what are you?" Carlisle asked, his voice gruff and his wrinkled brow furrowed as he glared at the intruders. "You're not just some rogue summoner, are you special forces? Which organization do you work for? Templars? Knights of Malta? The CIA?"

"I'm nobody," Ryan snapped.

"Bullshit," Carlisle spat, "if you're here to kill me then at least tell me why. You've successfully evaded our hit squads, you've fought off a demon more than once, you sent a Seraphim packing. Now you've found a way into the most secret facility on the planet. Hell, you seem to have a fucking Watcher on speed dial. Where did you come from?"

"All I wanted was to be left alone," Ryan hissed through gritted teeth. "I was minding my own business when you sent a SWAT team to murder me in my own home. Then you contracted a demon to burn me alive. As if that wasn't enough, you hurt my friends, my family. I don't even know what's happening now, I'm mixed up in some kind of...Angel war. But what I do know is that I'm going to do whatever I can to hurt you and your organization."

"That's impossible," Carlisle said with a bitter laugh. "This whole thing was some kind of setup, right? Designed to draw us out? There's no way that you're just some random summoner."

"You murder summoners, right?" Ryan asked.

"Of course," Carlisle replied as he spread his arms in exasperation. "What the hell do you think would happen if we just let every occultist and Wiccan in the country summon demons? What would the world look like if the Ars Goetia became public knowledge? Demons could be used to assassinate heads of state, to kill anyone in the world without repercussions, murders would become unsolvable. People would use the things to print money, which would crash the economy. Everyone would try to make themselves a millionaire and a pint of milk would end up costing a year's wages because inflation would make the currency worthless. It would make the Great Depression look like a joke. People's minds would be manipulated against their will, foreign spies could access any secrets that they wanted, not even our thoughts would be safe!"

He pounded his fist on the table, leaning across it as he chastised Ryan.

"Idiot child, if this power fell into the wrong hands, the world as we know it would end overnight! There would be no governments, no economy, it would be chaos in the streets. We have to snuff out rogue summoners wherever we find them, the Masons are the only force preventing the complete and total breakdown of society!"

"The wrong hands?" Ryan laughed, keeping his rifle pointed at the man. "But yours are the right hands, is that it? You can murder people with impunity, you can generate immense wealth and consolidate power for yourselves, but nobody else can? What gives you the right?"

"God gave us the right!" Carlisle bellowed, balling his fists and slamming them on the table.

"Your God, not my God," Ryan replied. "Look around you. You're the one who created this situation, you forced my hand. You know what I'd be doing right now if you had just left me the fuck alone? I'd be watching Netflix on my couch."

"You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, Cutter," Carlisle sneered. "If what you say is true, then you're just a pawn in this game. You revived Azazel, and now you've brought that...that creature here, into the most holy of sanctums. Do you even know what it wants?"

"No, but I know what you want, old man. I didn't want to kill you, I didn't want to hurt anybody, but you've made that my only option."

Carlisle opened his mouth to speak again, but Ryan squeezed the trigger. The Grand Master lurched, then looked down at his robe in disbelief, red stains spreading across the purple fabric from three holes in his chest that were grouped in an almost perfect triangle. Fragments of torn pages from the books on the shelves behind him floated down like snowflakes, thrown into the air by the rounds that had passed through his body.

He tried to speak again, but bubbling blood rose from his throat, spilling out of his mouth and dampening his beard. It was like he didn't know that he was dead yet. He slowly slumped forward, collapsing onto his desk as the dark blood began to pool, soaking into the scrolls and dripping down onto the floor.

"It's done," Ryan whispered.

"And what of the others?" Nahash asked, "will they not come for you now? Will they not summon more demons and send more soldiers?"

"One thing at a time," Ryan said. "Now that Haures is dealt with we can go off the grid. We can deal with mortals, we can make ourselves invisible, I can change my identity and flee the country if I have to. There must be demons who can help us evade them."

"I hope that you are right," Nahash replied.

"Gaap should return soon to take me back to the cabin. What will we do about the ring?"

"Give it to me," Nahash said, "I will ask my father to return it to you."

He took off the wedding band and handed it to her, waiting for any sign that Gaap was appearing. After a few minutes, he began to get worried. There had been no ringing of bells, no drop in temperature, no haze in the air.

"He should have been here by now," Ryan complained, covering the door with his rifle. The longer they remained here, the higher the chances became that someone would find them. The whole place would be crawling with armed guards now, and even Nahash wasn't immune to bullets. "Where the hell is he?"

"A demon would never break its contract by choice," Nahash mused, "I cannot imagine why he hasn't returned. Your terms were sound."

"Well he'd better show up soon, because there's no other way out of this base. Azazel burned a hole straight through a quarter mile of ice and rock to get inside, but I don't think we can climb back out that way. Even if I didn't die of exposure out on the ice, we're on an island, we can't exactly hail a cab."

Suddenly he heard shuffling and what sounded like heavy hooves scraping against the floor. Something large was coming down the hallway towards them. Fearing that it might be some new kind of demon, he took cover beside the door, preparing to fire on whatever it was that came through. Nahash waved for him to be calm.

"I sense my father," she said, "stay your weapon."

A moment later Azazel's enormous, shaggy head poked through the door. Its shoulders were far too broad for it to stand any chance of making it through the narrow opening, and so it appeared to have crouched down so that it could see inside. The creature turned to look at Ryan, exposing its giant, flat teeth in a grin. Its head was nearly as large as Ryan's entire torso, the massive, heavy horns twisted into gnarled spirals.

"Ryan Cutter," it boomed, "I have a request to make of thee. Wilst thou listen a moment?"

"Uh, yeah..." he replied sheepishly. He had never been so close to the creature before, its fur smelled of wet earth, coupled with a distinctly animal musk.

"I said that all would be revealed to thee before the day was through, and now I make good on my word. I have a favor to ask of thee. There is an artifact hidden in the bowels of this fortress, a relic of ages past, one which must be destroyed if we are to thwart the plans of these Solomonic acolytes."

"An artifact?" Ryan asked.

"Yes. After the great deluge, Yahweh delivered its commandments to its surviving mortal worshipers in the form of two tablets hewn from stone. They were to be carried in a vessel made from gilded wood, a symbol of their new covenant."