An Unexpected Offer...Part 2

The Slayer was the most powerful Doppelganger that I had encountered so far. He could conceal his essence from me if he chose to, but approached unshielded from my vision in Shadowland. In that realm, his form was like that of any other Doppelganger. But he had chosen another shape for this meeting.

He had taken the form of a tall, well muscled man with slicked back hair and olive hued skin. He was dressed casually for a warmer climate, wearing only dark jeans, a t-shirt and an unzipped leather jacket. His boots were meant more for the dance floor than for this kind of hard Michigan winter night. He was as unconcerned about the cold as I was.

The Slayer approached the edge of the building next to me and leaned with both forearms on the icy edge, looking out over the half-deserted city and silent, broken ruins of Tiger Stadium. His voice had a thick middle-eastern accent to it when he spoke.

"You and your friends have shown a remarkable resilience."

I leaned with both hands on the same ledge, each of us talking as much to the cold night air as we were to each other. Neither of us had any trouble hearing the words of the other though, despite the whipping winds and the relatively low volume of our voices. This conversation was taking place on multiple levels.

I smiled in response to his comment. "I missed you in Alaska. Had you been there, your masters might have had to send a different emissary."

His smile was equally broad. "If I had been there, human, your daughter and her mother would be dead instead of safe where they are now."

That caught my attention. I turned to face him, fighting hard against the urge to grab him by the jacket and shake the answer out of him. I remembered all too well how my last match with this one had gone.

"Where are they?"

He kept his composure and remained leaning out over the dark void. "As I said, they are safe, for now. They, and that battle that I unfortunately missed, are why I have come to see you tonight."

I settled back down next to him, sensing that this meeting might represent a significant change in the current state of affairs. I didn't want to hamper my negotiating stance by seeming too eager to make a deal.

"Your side did take quite a beating. It can't be an easy thing to replace three Banes and all those Doppelgangers."
He shrugged. "Those that fell in that battle were the weakest amongst us. They fell into a trap that should have been easily avoided."

I wasn't going to let him get off that easily, I knew the losses to his masters had been significant. "But..."

He nodded. "But, the blow was not an insignificant one." He shifted his weight onto his right arm and looked over directly into my eyes. "I will speak frankly now, human. I tire of these mortal word games. You must know by now that the An'girasii are not a unified force. If they were of a single mind and a single purpose, this world would have never stood a chance against their combined might."

Not sure where he was going with this strange twist, I nodded in agreement in order to keep him talking.

"I see no purpose in enlightening you further to the factions at play here, but suffice it to say that I have been tasked with negotiating a deal with you and your allies."

"What sort of deal?"

"A truce, of sorts."

"What the hell does that mean?"

His eyes changed briefly from the brown pupils that had been to the opaque white that the Dopplegangers eyes normally were. Was he losing control over his form? I had my doubts about that...

"That is what we are here to discuss..."


(Part 3 to be revealed next weekend.)

South Beach Slayer--A Retro Rusty Special

(The following post is the exact text for a short story that will be appearing in an anthology of online writers called *.fiction. The editor is Scott McKenzie, who can be found at this blog site: www.stardotfiction.blogspot.com. This story is based on the prior posts comprising the South Beach Diet series of posts--you can find the original series of posts in the November 2006 archives of this site--November 15-30, 2006 When the book is available, further information on how to get a copy will be posted and provided at that point. Until then, enjoy the story. More original posts are due over the next week.)

South Beach Slayer


I stood high above the crowd below, hidden from curious eyes by darkness and distance in my rooftop perch. From this spot, I could watch both the pulsating crowd below and the wide, nearly empty stretch of sand and waves known collectively as South Beach.

I wasn’t here to enjoy the sights and sounds of South Beach. This was a hunting trip.

There was a very prolific, very sick serial killer loose on South Beach. This unknown killer had killed four young people on four consecutive nights and left their bodies ripped open and splayed out on the beach to be discovered in the morning. Each body had been missing at least one vital organ.

Somehow, in one of the busiest nightspots in the United States, each victim had been killed, laid out on the beach, and been at least partially eaten all without any witnesses who were willing to come forward. The killings had continued even as the police presence had been doubled after the second killing and redoubled again after the third. The local authorities were at their wits end. That was when they called on the FBI to do something.

The fourth killing took place despite the presence of nearly twenty undercover FBI agents blanketing the most popular nightspots and a very sophisticated surveillance project that had been hastily put into place all over the area. The media was now crawling all over the story and the whole region was seemingly in the grip of panic over the lack of any progress on finding this mysterious, cannibalistic killer who had been named the South Beach Slayer by an enterprising news anchorman.

This was the fifth night.

The Bureau was desperate to put a stop to these gruesome murders. One of their best profilers, Agent Jennifer Wilson, had told them that this killer was something more than human. That’s when the decision was made to call on the Bureau’s only agent who also happened to be something more than human…or, as I preferred to think of it, formerly human.

Before I get much further, however, a brief introduction is called for. I am Agent Rusty Bones. I was a street cop from Dearborn Hills, Michigan who was killed in the line of duty. I was brought back to this…unlife…because I had also been a participant in a formerly secret (and definitely evil) government program called the Omega Project that sought to reunite the souls of slain subjects with newly enhanced bodies in an effort to show that it was indeed possible to create immortal super soldiers. I was the lone success of the project-- and its biggest failure-- since I subsequently helped to shut the thing down. I don’t quite think of myself as an immortal super soldier, but I do benefit from the fact that I can’t be killed. I have also acquired a few other special abilities that have been useful from time to time.

Seeing nothing of note moving on the beach, I turned my gaze towards the crowd below. While most sensible people were sensibly tucked away in their homes, there was still a sizable core of young, rich daredevils of all ethnicities gathered beneath me. They were partying with reckless abandon that I found quite amusing. There was a tension in the air that was palpable. These were the type of people who would throw a party on the eve of Armageddon.

From this distance I could pick out the undercover police officers and FBI agents as they mingled through the crowd looking for any likely suspects. The Slayer wouldn’t be so easily spotted. If Agent Wilson’s profile was to be believed, the Slayer was a doppelganger—a mythical creature that could change shape at will, exactly mimicking its victim.

I unfocused my eyes and shifted my vision from this world so that I could survey the scene below in the Shadowland—a separate dimension that parallels the physical world that you are already familiar with, but where the spirits of both the living and the dead are visible to those who can access it.

In this view, the police officers and undercover agents were even more distinct from the more colorful, inebriated spirits of all those potential victims. The spirits of the law enforcement officers were less colorful, more subdued in their hues, focused and vigilant.

There! About halfway down the block at a small, open-air sidewalk café, I caught a glimpse of someone, or better yet, something that was out of place. It was a small, dark spirit that seemed oddly out of place. As soon as I tried to lock my gaze on it, it slipped away into a thronging mass of spirits that obscured my sight. I was going to have to get closer. It seemed to sense me almost as soon as I saw it.

I slipped back into normal vision long enough to get a fix on the place and called the Shadow.

The cool, comforting darkness of the Shadow surrounded me. Using my will, I shaped It into a portal and stepped through.

I emerged from the Shadow in a side alley. I stopped at the mouth of the tight space for a moment to take in the festive scene from my new vantage point—pounding music, snarled traffic, pulsing neon lights, and a gyrating crowd of underdressed people of all races, genders and orientations milling about in their desperate searches for excitement and hook-ups.

A young woman in a skimpy bikini top and a multi-colored skirt stumbled into the dark alley and retched onto the ground right at my feet. She looked up from my puke spattered boots, staggering up to one knee. “Hey buddy, whatcha doin’ back here?” As her eyes traveled upward from my boots, her eyes grew wide. She got up quickly and stumbled off to rejoin her friends.

I stepped over a puddle of fermented vomit, emerging from the comfort of the shadow. I joined the pulsating stream of tense human sexuality that was the South Beach night life. I started towards that open-air café where I had seen that strange spirit.

If the dress code of the partying crowd was any indication, it was about 80 degrees and humid out. Even the bikini-clad gals and the bare-chested young studs were shiny with beaded sweat. I was, of course, the lone exception. I was wearing a lightweight, black windbreaker over a loose black sweatshirt. My sturdy jeans were properly distressed while my heavy black steel-toed work boots were brand new. I wasn’t used to being this exposed.

While preening, inebriated minnows darted and dodged all around me, I was the trolling, brooding shark seeking bigger, more dangerous prey.

I switched my vision back into the Shadowland so that I could scan the crowd easier for that spirit. I had gotten pretty good in the last year at moving my body through the physical world while keeping my vision primarily in the Shadowland. Compared to the kaleidoscope of colors of the Shadowland, the neon signs and Art Deco décor of the physical South Beach was almost bland and boring.

It wasn’t long before I caught a second glimpse of that strange spirit again. It stood out from the large cluster of younger, brighter spirits gathered outside of a particularly flashy nightclub just down the street from the café. It was a darker, smaller form than those of most humans, and it felt my presence as I honed in on it.

The small head of the form swiveled in my direction as soon as I locked my gaze onto it. Two laser red eyes bore into me for the briefest of moments before a massive explosion of intense light knocked me from the Shadowland and back into the realm of normal vision.


The crowd was milling about, oblivious to the dance between two hunters as I tried to associate the out of place spirit I had seen with the right physical body in the swirling, dancing, flirting mass of humanity.

With all of the glances of fear, disgust, and disdain that I was getting, I knew that my appearance was even more zombie-like than normal. I hadn’t found my prey yet. I was reasonably certain, however, that I stood out well enough to let the Slayer know that he or she wasn’t alone at the top of the food chain any more. The minnows danced and darted about, too exhilarated by life to realize that the true dance of death had only just begun.

I slipped back into the Shadowland, hoping to catch a glimpse of my prey yet again, only to find that the creature had slipped away for the moment. I shifted back to normal vision, clenching my fist in frustration. I pulled the Shadow closer, hoping to use It for cover as I redoubled my efforts to locate the Slayer before it struck again.

Standing on the edge of Light and Night, of City and Beach, I was in Shadow. A watchful, vigilant Shade that moved from one world to the next with the ease of a moth flitting around a light bulb, one moment fully visible and real, the next moment a figment of the imagination.

In this new state of being—suspended halfway between the living and the dead—I could walk among the evening revelers leaving no more memory of my passing than that of a strange, cold shiver that caused a tingle along the spine and raised the hairs on the back of the neck.

There was a certain timeless quality to this half-in, half-out existence that I was now in. I was unsure whether I had been searching for five minutes or an hour when I noticed the strange cloud of Shadow darker than any normal night obscuring part of the beach across the street.

Without hesitating, I turned, stepped out into the street, easily slipping between the cars stuck in traffic. I needed to see what was being concealed over there.

I slowed from a jog to a cautious walk as I reached the threshold of the obscured area—it was large enough to conceal any number of dangers. The Shadow parted for me like a curtain. What I saw on the other side of that shade would have caused me to retch if I had been physically capable of it.

The body of the Slayer’s fifth victim lay spread-eagle in the sand, her torso ripped open. A man knelt down beside her with his back to me, holding something dripping and wet to his mouth and tearing into it with his teeth. The lip-smacking sound of him eating one of her organs was enough to throw me into a rage. But one glance at this man’s sickly spirit was enough to convince me that this man couldn’t be the one responsible for weaving the curtain of darkness that was obscuring him from being seen by anyone else.

I reached out and grabbed the man by his long, greasy hair, yanking his mouth away from his disgusting meal and lifting him from his knees. “Hold it right there, asshole! Who helped you do this?”

The man’s eyes were glassy, his mouth dripping blood and bits of the young woman’s liver. He tried to ignore me by bringing the rest of the organ up for another mouthful.

I knocked his hands down with my left hand and spun him around. “I’m talking to you! Who helped you with this?”

Still dazed from his orgiastic feast, his eyes grew wide as he laughed. Bits of liver and blood spewed from his mouth as he did. As I raised a fist to bring an end to his sick display, his eyes narrowed. “Are you Bones?”

That shocked me enough to halt my fist. I could barely keep my response civil. “Yes, how do you know who I am?”

The sick bastard giggled. “The Beast said you would come.” He nodded towards the waterline to his left. “It wants to talk to you. I don’t know why, you don’t look like you would taste very good.”

I ended the conversation with a blow that was sure to keep him unconscious for hours and dropped his sorry ass next to the poor wretch he had been feasting on. I had a date with a doppelganger. I stalked off in the direction the maniac had nodded in.

A figure strolled in the darkness near the gentle surf off to my right. It was walking that line between earth and ocean, alone, just as I moved between the world of Shadow and Light. Its physical form was that of a lithe young man. Its spirit was something other, something that I had not seen before. It was small and dark, exuding a roiling, seething hatred.

The doppelganger was issuing its challenge to me. Come play.

It was time to make a proper introduction. I called the Shadow, wrapping myself fully within it. I gave the dark energy the twist that took me from one place to another and stepped out directly in front of the creature.

The fleshy face of the young man melted away as I stood at arms length from the creature. I was standing face to face with a being that now had no discernible face.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Hunter.” No mouth opened as it spoke, only a slow, grating whisper emanated from the creature.


“Why are you killing these people? What have they done to you?” I stood facing the thing in a combat-ready stance. My hands were open and ready to trigger my batons to drop into place from my wrist holsters at the first sign that it was done talking.

“It is time to hunt again. Have you not heard the call?” Its form shifted slightly, its arms growing slightly longer than would be normal for a human being of its height. Its hands shifted into large, wicked looking claws.

“What call is that?” I rose up on the balls of my feet and shifted my balance forward ever so slightly.

“The Call of the An’girasii, that which has not been uttered in over six hundred years, ever since the Burning Times. How can you not hear it, Brother?” It reached one razor sharp talon towards me slowly, pointing towards where my heart used to be. “Lord Dracaar walks the land once more. My spirit sings with his Call. I feast so that I may grow strong enough to serve him once again! Shall we dine together tonight?”

I brushed the talon away with a sweep of my left arm while reaching up to the sheath across my back that was not actually present in the physical world. Somehow I didn’t think my batons would be of much use against this creature.

“Look buddy, I don’t hear any call from Dracaar or anyone else, but I think you’ve had your last meal on this or any other beach.”

It drew back from my brush off and gathered itself for a lunging attack, both monstrous claws ready to strike with its leap.

It leapt before I could get my hand on the hilt of Excalibur, knocking me backwards onto my back in the wet sand. We became a tangle of grasping hands and claws, kicking legs and tussling forms in the gently rolling waves.

It wrestled with the strength of several men, moving lightning fast with the ferocity of natural predator as it tried to keep me from reaching the blade that it somehow knew was there.

“You are known to us, young Hunter. You have much to learn before you will inspire fear in any of us the way your father did.” It was not straining to speak as we wrestled, it kept the upper hand, always anticipating my next attempt to wrest my hand free to reach for the blade.

“Drake was not my father, dammit!”

It gave off what could only be considered a chuckle as it leaned its grey, blank face close to mine. “It was only through him that you were born into this existence. He is your father in every way that matters.”

I stopped struggling when I realized that this creature, this doppelganger, was sitting astride my chest in the shallow surf, holding me down, but not otherwise trying to harm me. I stared into its blank mask of a face, trying to pierce the veil into its spirit. “Who or what exactly are you and why did you draw me here?”

Two pinpricks of red light grew into glowing orbs of eyes. “I am a humble Servant, a messenger, if you will. I have something for you.”

“What is it?”

It reached into the dark robes that I now realized it was wearing and drew out a rolled up piece of what looked like leather sealed by some sort of wax. It placed the bundle on my chest as it let go of my right arm with its other claw and stood up.

“Read this soon. It is a message for your eyes only. You’ve seen the fifth and final victim already. The human feasting on her carcass is my gift to you. He will serve the needs of your human justice system well enough for now.”

“I can’t scapegoat some poor schmuck for your crimes!”

It stood over me, its eyes fading back into the grey of the mask. “Oh, I’ve chosen well for you. He’s killed far more of his fellow men than I have lately. If he weren’t so fallibly human, he might have been of more use to us. I have enjoyed this meeting, young Hunter. Until we meet again, fare thee well.”

I sat up, grabbing the thick leather scroll before it fell into the water. As I did, the creature faded into Shadow and was gone

The Update Post

Is it me or is Hurricane Gustav trying to find the shortest path to the Twin Cities where the Republican Convention is about to kick-off?

Hey you Evangelical dipshits, God is gonna rain all over your parade. Hmmm…maybe He actually meant it when his Boy was talking all of that shit about turning the other cheek, helping the poor and destitute, and to be nice? Ach…what do I know? I’m just your local unbelieving dead man. It is your religion, not mine, but maybe you Christians should try reading that little book of yours a little closer. That are lots of little nuggets of wisdom allegedly uttered by that long-haired, sandal wearing, do-gooder of a pre-hippie dude that you claim to follow. If more of you actually did that, there would be a hell of a lot less misery in this world.

Ah well, enough of that, for the moment, anyway.

A lot has happened since I met Raxgar in the Alaskan wilderness, much of it worth telling about at some point, but I think it is time to catch the story up to the present day.

The battle in the Alaskan wilderness turned out to be somewhat of a watershed moment in the brewing conflict between the ORC’s and the An’girasii. While the ORC’s lost too many good people that day, including my son Kenny, the losses for the An’girasii were staggering. Three of their most powerful Banes and a dozen Doppelgangers were slain.

Banes aren’t killed very often. But when, on occasion, they are killed, their Spirit finds a new host body and begins the arduous process of modifying that body to suit their desires. That is what happened with the Bane that Drake killed on the tanker ship when he took over my body.

The three who died in that battle with us, however, didn’t just get killed. I absorbed their Spirits into myself, essentially destroying them. This was a crippling blow to the offensive forces of the An’girasii. To make matters worse for the An’girasii, El Diablito used the diversion created by my drawing the Banes and their followers into battle to betray his erstwhile masters. He and his minions snuck into a secret stronghold that the An’girasii had established and stole a large number of artifacts and weapons that the An’girasii had been gathering for their own servants. Among the things he took was an orb that can lead its bearer to where Alexa is being held.

I can’t reveal yet how I know all of this information, but I will tell it when doing so will no longer compromise valuable secrets.

El Diablito and his organization are now the focus of the rage of the An’girasii and their surviving minions which has taken considerable, if temporary, pressure off of the ORC’s.

This brief respite has allowed for the ORC’s to regroup and establish several new bases of operation. I am now back in a rural area just outside of Metro Detroit with my ex-wife and daughter and several of my oldest friends among the ORC’s—including Ravyn, the Frau, Cerrydwen, the Professor and Alora. We are safely tucked away on a large swath of property that the organization has owned and operated for quite some time under an alias that I won’t be divulging here. I will not reveal any more of the location for obvious reasons, other than to give you the name by which we are calling our new home base—the Den.

I use the place as a base of sorts, but spend more than half of my time away on various missions for the Bureau or the ORC’s. Supervisory Special Agent Jennifer Wilson was able to settle the situation with the Bureau so that I am now fully restored to my previous position as a Provisional Special Agent. More importantly, I have had my access to the various law enforcement systems restored. I am still free to take on cases as I see fit, but also have to be available on short notice at any time to help the Bureau out with one of their cases as well.

As the strange woman, Me’shwara, had warned, I no longer have easy access to the Shadowland. In the many months since I’ve been back, I’ve only managed to make two short-lived trips, each one consuming tremendous amounts of energy that is not really very easy to store up. I can only shake my head and marvel at how powerful I had become and how much I took that power for granted until I lost it. I now have to get around in more traditional ways. For the most part I travel by way of my black Ninja motorcycle.

Since my latest transition, I have found it easier to move about in society. I’m still the ugliest mug in any given room, by now my skin looks a lot more like skin, even if it is pasty white in color. But I can throw on a hat, some mirrored sun-glasses and a jacket and get by without too much trouble. I still avoid crowds of any sort when I can, but I can mingle freely when I have to.

As mentioned in a previous post, my new body has its full complement of senses. I can smell and taste again, although sometimes I wish I couldn’t taste the kinds of stuff I have to eat in order to build up my strength. In order to be as strong as I need to be, I have to consume a diet of raw meat.

In the last few months I have discovered a lot of information about my new body and how it works. For one, I have a new appreciation for how Drake was able to take on the strongest servants of the An’girasii. Like Drake, I can suffer wounds by weapons big and small, but also like Drake, I have the ability to control my body’s reaction to such attacks on an almost cellular level. In the last few months I have been shot, stabbed, and nearly crushed while investigating various cases. In each case, however, I have been able to absorb the wounds, redirect my energy and resources around the wounded area and keep on trucking. Once the immediate danger is over, I’m then able to heal the damage far quicker than the normal healing process would be if I were a normal person.

Even though I have lost most of my ability to manipulate the Shadow, I have discovered a number of new abilities that also mirror some of the things I watched Drake do. When I haven’t been engaged with cases, I’ve spent hour after hour training to hone the skills that I know that I will need for the coming battles.

In my next post, I will update you on the status of some of my comrades and go into more detail on some of the doings of the other ORC’s.

Just Call Me Ruxxxty Bones...Part 2

Kenny was waiting for me just beyond the range of the obelisk. His Spirit was bright and strong, with the vibrancy of youth.

I crashed through the forest to stand in front of him. “Why didn’t you let me help you, Kenny? You didn’t have to die!”

Kenny shook his head. “You are the one in need of help, Father. Such help always comes with a price.”

“Why do you have to pay the price for helping me?”

His eyes bore into me. “Because you are no longer capable of helping yourself.” He turned his back to me. “We will be going to a place you were once quite familiar with. Meet me at Yggsdrasil.”

I hadn’t been back to that place since I had parted ways with Drake and John Red Bear. It was in the forest near that clearing where John had shown me about the obelisks and their strange powers.

“You know how to get there?”

Kenny glanced back at me before shimmering and slipping into the Shadowland. “I do now.”

I had little choice but to summon the Shadow myself and head towards the clearing where I usually found more questions than answers.

I emerged from the Shadow on the edge of the clearing expecting to see the towering mass of Yggsdrasil that dominated the middle of the place ever since I had planted the baton that hade grown into a full blown tree. Instead, I found a place that changed drastically. The once thriving tree that had introduced itself to me as Yggsdrasil was now a withered remnant of its former self.

The once black trunk was now graying in many places. Nearly all of Yggsdrasil’s marvelous black and white leaves lay scattered about the clearing, lazily blowing and rustling in the mild breeze.

I stood there in shock, unwilling to believe that this once massive tree was now a shriveled relic of itself.

Kenny stood near the base of the tree. He had adopted the physical image he had before the battle in Alaska. His face was grim, his eyes sad.

I stumbled towards him, tripping over the tangled mass of dry roots between us. I was still at least eight feet tall, my body now resembled the Demon’s than my own natural form.

“What happened here?”

He looked up into my eyes with his own expressive brown eyes. “This tree reflects the strength and vitality of your Spirit. When you planted this tree, you planted it in strength and defiance.” He looked form me back to the tree. “You see, Father, the Tree is you, you are the Tree.”

“But how can that be? I am stronger than I have eve r been? I almost single-handedly slew and consumed three Banes! I’m finally strong enough to take on the damn An’girasii on their terms!”

He shook is head. “Dad, you can’t beat these creatures by becoming like them. Look inside the memories of those Banes that you destroyed. When you do that, you will find that each of them was once a powerful person who thought that they too could challenge the power of the An’girasii. In the end, each of them fell under the sway of the very powers they thought they could replace.”

“I’m different. I’m stronger. I’ve got the benefit of Drake’s thousands of years hunting the An’girasii and all of John’s teaching.”

“You’ve taken all of that knowledge and experience and have become stronger than any Bane, this is true. But in the process, you’ve also lost what it is to be human. If you can’t find a way to regain what you have lost, you will become more a danger to all you hold dear than any number of Banes. That is why I am here, to help you find your way back to us. If I fail, then I would not have had much a future in any event.

“But know this, Father. I may be your last chance to save yourself, the ORC’s, Alexa, and the future of humanity.”

Looking inward as he spoke, I combed through the roiling images of the memories of the Banes that I had destroyed. Of the three, though, only Arixtocles’ were immediately decipherable. I began sorting through all of the earliest memories that I could looking for what he may once have been. Just as Kenny was finishing, I found a small kernel of memory that had been suppressed for almost as long as Arixtocles had existed. I was not prepared for what I found…

Just Call Me Ruxxxty Banes...Part 1

Inside, I was roiling with emotions. I had just defeated and consumed three Banes, some of the most powerful servants of the An’girasii almost single-handedly, but my friends were now looking up at me with a mixture of fear and awe that I found to be strangely pleasing. I felt a rush of power coursing through my body and my Spirit that made me feel almost invincible. I just knew that I could not be beaten, that there was no one who could destroy me. This was what it felt like to be a god!

People were speaking and moving about, but I was too wrapped up in my own experiences to pay any attention to what these lesser creatures were talking about or doing. I was imagining how easy it was going to be to hunt down and destroy all of the remaining Banes so that I could become even stronger. As random memories from the conquered Banes came flooding up to my consciousness, I realized how easy it would be to take on the An’girasii themselves. Surely, I thought, no single An’girasii could be any stronger than I was already!

I sensed Jim approach me from behind before he had a chance to reach out and touch me to get my attention. I swung around to face him, perhaps with more force than I had intended. He staggered back, a look of concern on his face. I could feel the waves of fear coming from him even as he seemed to be concealing the outward appearance of fear. It was now that I also noticed how I towered over him in height. Normally, he was nearly half a foot taller than me, but now I towered over him by a good three feet.

He started to speak as he pointed towards a set of bushes nearby where other ORC’s had gathered around something. I had to struggle to hear his words even though he seemed to be shouting. “Rusty, come over here, we’ve found Kenny.”

A sudden concern for Kenny quieted the internal torrent of voices, memories, and ambitions that had kept me occupied momentarily. I brushed Jim aside with one hand and stalked over to where my son lay, surrounded by obviously concerned companions.

As I approached, they parted to allow me into the circle. I looked down to see Kenny’s broken body, his limbs splayed out in ways only possible due to many broken bones. His chest was still moving, if barely, but his eyes were closed until I looked down upon his face.

His eyes sprung open as I kneeled down to reach out and touch his face. He spoke only one word. “No.”

I stopped. “I want to help you, son. I can heal you with the powers possess.” I began to reach towards his face again.

“NO!” His face jerked away from my approaching fingers causing him to catch is breath and retch to side. “Don’t touch me you monster!”

I was taken aback. “Son, it’s me, your father. Let me heal you of these wounds! You’ll die if I don’t!” I could see that he couldn’t move away any further, so I knelt down lower and began to brush the hair from his face as I prepared to summon Shadow to heal him.

I staggered to side as Jim grabbed my arm and pulled it away from his face. It took all of his strength, but with two arms wrapped around my upper arm he had managed to pull me away from helping my own dying son!

Rage kicked in as I stood up and grabbed Jim and hoisted him up off the ground with my other hand, breaking his grip on my right arm. His feet dangled several feet of the ground, but he stared back at me with defiance and he spoke through clenched teeth.

“Jason, you have no idea whether these new powers of yours are tainted by the very Banes that are now inside you. What if you make your own son into a mortal enemy? He doesn’t want your help.”

The other ORC’s had taken up positions around me.

Ravyn had called Fire and seemed poised to attack me if necessary.

Herne had drawn that handgun of his and was aiming at my head.

Cerrydwen had a darker look on her face than normal, as she held a ball of black energy of her own in her good hand, ready to leap to Jim’s defense.

Others had taken up positions around me as if they were all prepared to fight me.

I snarled and pulled back my right hand to prepare for a devastating punch, but hesitated when I saw Kenny—actually Kenny’s Spirit form—standing behind Jim looking at me.

“There is nothing you can do to help me now, father, but there is something I must do for you. Put Jim down and come with me.”

I stood there stunned for a moment, not wanting to believe that Kenny, my only son, was dead. Waves of grief rolled through me. I lowered my fist and released Jim to fall to the ground.

Kenny nodded and turned to head deeper into the woods, away from the obelisk that was preventing access to the Shadowland.

I stepped over Jim and pushed through the ORC’s that stood between me and where Kenny was going. “I’m coming, son!” Even as I followed him, the roiling chaos of voices, memories, and delusions of grandeur began to fill my thoughts. I had to fight to stay focused on Kenny.

Confessions all around...

(The events and conversations in this post took place in the Lower World immediately before and during Drake’s final passing. These events can now be told in full. For a brief refresher on the context in which these events take place, readers are encouraged to re-read the posts from the following dates: March 18, 2007, A Visit from an Old Friend…Part 1; May 27, 2007, Drake’s Farewell Message; June 10, 2007, Meditation and June 14, 2007, Hell’s Bells…Part 1)



When Drake revealed to me the location of his secret stash of artifacts, his voice was been dry and raspy in my head, like he was having difficulty with what he was saying. “Rusty, I have been afraid to reveal this information to you, because it is perhaps the last and most dangerous truth that I have to tell you.”

“Drake, as much as you have lied, I can only imagine how painful it would be to have to tell the truth. Say what you have to say and be done with it.”

“It is not that simple, Rusty, because this truth goes to the very foundation of who you are and how you came to be as you are now. It was the one truth that I could not risk for you to discover on your own.”

“Drake, stop playing around. Nothing you have to say will surprise me.”

His dry chuckle resonated in my mind. “Very well, I will delay no further.” His voice became deep and somber when spoke again. “Long before there was an Omega Project, I had met a young man—an FBI agent—who I thought might have the potential to eventually inherit the struggle against the An’girasii. He was a talented Caster with a natural charisma and the strength to carry on a long, lonesome battle, if need be. He left the FBI at my urging and worked with me for several years. We learned a great deal from each other once we learned to trust each other. He taught me much about the Shadowland and the many Spirit Worlds that I had been unable to experience myself. I taught him of the long and bitter war that I had been fighting against my father’s people. After nearly a decade of working together though, we came to the mutual decision that he would not be the one. But even so, we made a solemn pact. The essence of that pact was that I would provide him with the initial financing and support to form a secret group of Casters that could become the backbone of a defensive force against the An’girasii if necessary, and in return, he would provide me with any assistance that I needed when I had found the person I considered to be the candidate. I also asked for his assistance in creating a secret storage site for all of the artifacts and books that I had acquired in my many millennia. He agreed, providing a place that was secret and safe.”

“Come off it, Drake. It sounds like you are trying to take credit for founding a group like the ORC’s.”

“Indeed, this young man was instrumental in just that, it was he who founded that little group that you are so fond of.”

“Yeah? I find that very hard to believe. Who was this mystery man?”

“He didn’t have to keep his end of the bargain until quite recently, so it is someone you know, or rather, you knew, quite well…”

I sat there stunned as I listened to his words, coming to a conclusion that I did not like very much at all… “No…not him!”

“Yes. John Red Bear was my ally in creating you.”

“That’s not possible!”
He sighed again. “I am sure that you have the means to ask him yourself, should he choose to answer you, but you may rest assured, John Red Bear helped me to make you who are now.”

“You better believe I’m going to ask him! But I want to hear it all from you, Drake. Finish your story and tell me where this stash is so that I can be done with you forever.”

“As you wish. It is well past time for me to move on in any event. After we parted our ways, he began to form the group that became the ORC’s. He sought out like minded Casters and individuals who had the potential to become Casters. He helped to mold this budding young group into a force for good, creating secret schools and academies all over the country. I began to gather individuals like Klimm and Papa Locks to me, in part to keep them from interfering with John Red Bear and his fledgling group, and in part because I had come up with a new idea to try that would need the services of Casters with fewer morals and inhibitions than those individuals that Red Bear was making contact with. Throughout the years though, I kept in secret contact with him, each of us providing guidance and resources to the other as needed. He had very deep misgivings about my new ideas, but maintained his pledge to assist me when I felt that the time was right.”

“So, you are saying that John Red Bear knew of this plan to make zombies of people?”

“He was aware of the general principle that I was looking at, yes. He wasn’t privy to some of the darker details that were required to make the Omega Project successful, but that was necessary in order to make his eventual role easier to play.”

“What role was that?”

“He played the role of the good cop.”

I snorted. “Let me guess, you played the role of bad cop?”

He chuckled. “Indeed, a role that I am quite comfortable playing.”

I shook my head. “Drake, just tell me this. Why did we—did I—have to go through all of this? Why did you have to bring John into this mess? And why did you have to tell me about his betrayal?”

“Rusty, over the millennia I have come to learn that I do not possess the ability to ultimately win this war that I have been fighting against the An’girasii. But I have learned something about what will be needed to win this war. Every trial, every single test that I have put you through has been designed to determine if you had the potential to develop into the person that could help lead this struggle. In all of my previous attempts, save one, I had either broken my potential successor or created a monster that I would later have to put down. John Red Bear was the lone exception. He was the one candidate that I parted on good terms with. In the process he taught me a very important lesson…that in order to succeed my heir would have to maintain an essential humanity that I have never had. Despite all of the years that have passed, I remain my father’s son.”

“An evil fucking bastard.”

“Indeed. That is why I needed him to help with you. I had to push you away, to make you stronger. I had to make you hate me enough to fight with everything you had. He was there to pick you up again, to keep you grounded in you human nature, and to give you the spiritual tools that would allow you grow in ways that I never could.”

“But why are you telling me all of this now? Why are you trying to ruin my memories of John?”

He sighed. “Rusty, I’m telling you this now because it is the truth. You needed to hear it from me—and him, if he is willing or able to speak to you about it—before it discovered by your real enemies and used against you. Red Bear sacrificed much in order for you to become who you are now. Don’t let those sacrifices be in vain.”

I sat in stunned silence as I contemplated everything that Drake had said so far. His voice was small and quiet in my mind when he spoke again.

“My last gift to you and your friends is the location of that vault I had mentioned earlier. You will find it safely hidden in the Black Hills of South Dakota. Here is the exact location and the combination you will need to access everything…”

With that last bit of information, Drake left me and the ring behind. His Spirit moved gracefully to stand in front of Alexa. Her small face was both serious and tender as she took his confession of and forgave each and every one of his thousands of crimes, one at a time.

I was still trying to absorb everything that Drake had just revealed when the sound of a footfall behind me caused me to turn around.

John Red Bear stood behind me in human form. His face was that of his younger self, but his eyes held all of the wisdom of his years and a tremendous sadness. “Jason, will you walk with me one last time?”

I couldn’t have been more surprised by his appearance here after what Drake had just told me, but I was suddenly nervous leaving Alexa alone with Drake. That nervousness must have been obvious.

“Jason, do not worry about her. She, of all people, is safe in this place.”

I snorted. “I’ve heard that kind of assurance from you before, John. But I’m not sure I want to have anything to do with you anymore.”

“I would understand if you refuse my request. You have every right to reject me, but I feel I have much to explain in just a short time. This is the last time that I will be able to come to you, so please, will you walk with me one last time?”

I swallowed my pride and my anger and nodded.

John turned and guided me out from underneath Yggsdrasil’s canopy and towards a small path that was opening in the woods beyond.

We walked in silence for a few moments. I couldn’t take it for long though. “John, is Drake telling the truth? Did you work with him to help create Rusty Bones?”

I could tell from the flash of emotions across his face that he was deeply conflicted.

“Yes, Drake spoke the truth, as much of it as he knows.”

“What does that mean?”

He stopped and knelt in the middle of the trail. I knelt down beside him as he began scribbling in the open patch of dirt with a twig.

“I am sure Drake has told you that he and met many years before.”

“Yes. He said that you were an FBI agent then.”

John nodded. “Yes, I was the first Native American agent that the FBI ever had. I had a promising career ahead of me, but despite the promising career track laid out before me, I was unfulfilled. I longed for something deeper, more spiritual than such a career would allow me become.

“One winter, near four decades ago, I left my assigned office and cases work to track down a vicious killer in the backwoods of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. There had been rumors that this killer was actually a wendigo, a creature from the myths of many tribes in that region.

“I had asked my supervisor in Detroit to allow me to go investigate this mysterious killer, but he refused. He said that there was no indication that this killer warranted the Bureau’s involvement yet. His victims were poor, rural, and Native American. He said that the locals and the tribal cops would handle the investigations. One Friday night after another brutal killing, I ignored my boss and set off on my own to investigate the matter.

“By the next evening, I had tracked the creature to an abandoned cabin deep in the woods. I was about to confront it by myself when I discovered that I wasn’t the only person tracking the wendigo. A strange man who later introduced himself as Drake Kampmann came up beside me and indicated that my shotgun and sidearm would be of little use against the creature. He recommended that I use a bladed weapon, if I had one.

“Before we could come up with a plan, the wendigo charged us from the cabin. It was a terrible sight. As Drake had predicted, my shotgun blast to its face had little effect on it. But luckily for me, the wendigo had no interest in me. It attacked Kampmann with its full fury.”

John shook his head as he looked up from his scribbling in the dirt. “I had never seen anything as fast as those two fighting each other. The wendigo towered over Drake, fully eight feet tall, but incredibly gaunt. Despite being very thin, it was wiry and strong enough to push down small trees with each clawed hand. Drake ducked and dodged with such speed and agility, striking the creature with only his feet and hands, yet obviously causing it great pain.

“In less than two minutes, it was all over. Drake had broken one of its legs and each of its arms. He had the creature in a headlock from behind. He looked up at me long enough to ask one question. “Can you come get the necklace out of my jacket pocket?”

“I did as he asked, pulling out a strange looking pendant with a large ruby at the center. He grabbed it from me and placed it on the creature’s forehead. The beast let forth a terrible howling shriek that died in the winter air as the creature dissolved in his arms. Needless to say, I had never seen anything like this creature or its demise.”

I looked down at the drawing that John had made in the dirt. It looked very much like the creature I had known as Grendel. “John, what does any of this have to do with why you helped to create me?”

John tossed the stick away and stood up. He motioned for me to continue down the path with him. “Jason, that was the day when my eyes were opened to the possibility—the reality, really—that monsters that were walking freely in this world. My people had stories of such creatures—most cultures have had their stories of fantastic creatures that roam the world—but I had never seen one with my own eyes. I had not yet learned to walk the worlds of Spirit, so this was all new to me.

“Drake saw something in me that day though, perhaps he sensed the shaman that I would later become, but whatever his reason was, he asked me to join him in his fight against creatures like the wendigo and their masters, who he named as the An’girasii, as you know well. In this strange, distant man, I sensed a certain strength and strong sense of purpose that I had been unable to find as an agent of the FBI.”

John turned from the path that lay before us and pushed through the thick foliage into the heart of the forest. He waved for me to follow him.

“I left the Bureau the following week and joined up with Drake Kampmann. We spent a period of several years together. He taught me much about his history and the war he had fought against the An’girasii. He took me to a number of masters and teachers that he knew of who helped me to find my path. It was he who was most responsible for me becoming a shaman of some small skill.

John stopped moving ahead of me and stared at a tall obsidian obelisk that was almost totally obscured by thick, leafy vines and tall, thorny bushes that had grown right up against it.

“What is that thing?”

“It is a map of sorts.”

“A map? A map of what?”

He moved closed to the obelisk and began pulling the vines off of it. I moved in to help him as he replied.

“It is a map that can be used as a guide through the many Spirit Worlds and to some places beyond as well.”

“There are places outside of the Spirit Worlds?”

John laughed and pulled another vine from the stone. I could see that there were thousands of tiny symbols, pictographs and writings all over it. “Oh yes. The multiverse is an inconceivably large and complex place. This obelisk is a both a map and guide post placed here long, long ago. There are similar markers in other places, other worlds. For those who recognize them and who discover the keys to unlocking their mysteries, these obelisks tell how to get to places that might otherwise be totally inaccessible. Before I leave you, I wanted to show this one to you and show you how to access at least a portion of its information. But first let me finish with Drake.

“After a few years under his guidance, I found the path that I knew that I needed to follow. Unfortunately, my destiny was not to be the Warrior, the Hunter, the Successor that Drake had been seeking in me. Our skills complimented each other in ways that found us each wishing that we had some or all of the skills and abilities of the other. We parted ways quietly after coming up with a new plan. Drake explained to me that he felt that he needed to re-create, as much as possible, the conditions that led to him becoming who he was, but that he would try to do so in such a way as to drive his chosen successor to acquire some of the same skills in the realm of Spirit that I had. That plan eventually led to your creation, and to the creation of the ORC’s.”

I dropped the vine I had pulled from the obelisk and looked into his eyes. “John, tell me this. Do any of the other ORC’s know of your involvement in helping to create the Omega Project? Do they know the role Drake had in creating their own organization?”

John shook his head. “No. Those were secrets that I have had to keep to myself. By design, none of the others share my guilt. Jason, I feel no pride in having deceived you as I have. It is a shame that I will carry with me as I leave these realms and move on to my next journey.” He held up his hands imploring me to listen just a little longer.

“Jason, I could not reveal any of this to you before because I could not risk the possibility of failure. You were our last best chance at succeeding before the An’girasii freed themselves again. Time had grown exceedingly short. I know this not from Drake and his stories, but from my own journeys and research through using these obelisks. So let me tell you how to access the information on this so that you can someday do your own research. I am not asking for your forgiveness, but only for your eventual understanding. Once you learn everything that I have, I hope that you will come to fully understand the necessity of what has been done to you. Please don’t judge me too harshly until then.”

At that point John showed me how to unlock a small portion of the mysteries of that and any other such obelisk that I might encounter. But dear reader, you will come to see how those things work in the coming weeks.

My next post will be made on Friday, January 4, 2008 where I begin the story of what happened after the surviving ORC’s fled El Diablito’s tower in the Shadowland.

From the Frying Pan into the Fire...Part 4

After the initial surge of adrenaline passed, Jim looked back to me. “Wait a minute, are you sure this is the best idea? Won’t you need this weapon if we face any powerful foes?”

I shook my head. “If we were going in to make an all out attack and to cause damage, then yeah, I’d keep the blade with me and leave you somewhere safe. But right now we just need to get in, find as many of our people as we can, and get back out again. I also don’t know where we would be able to leave you where you would be safe right now. We don’t know who our mole is, other than it is likely not any of the four of us, and so I don’t think it is wise for us to split up in any way.”

The Frau nodded. Her voice came through telepathically again. “I agree with Rusty. Excalibur seems to be OK with you holding it, so let’s not argue about that. I also agree that splitting up is not a wise idea. We’re going to need to move fast and stay together so that Rusty or Ravyn can get us out of there in a hurry if things get too bad. Ravyn, my dear, I’m going to suggest that you ride on my back. We should make quite the formidable duo!”

Ravyn’s face lit up. “That sounds like fun.” Her expression grew more serious. “I’ll carry the computer with us as well since Jim’s going to have his hands full.” She then walked over to Jim, reaching into a pocket of her skirt and pulled out a small pouch. She poured out three small, red, round stones from the pouch into her hand. “Jim, open your other hand please.”

He did so, slightly confused.

She placed the three stones in his hand and closed his fingers over them slowly before planting a kiss on his cheek. “These things will explode on impact when thrown and become fireballs like the one I threw at the Asylum. Just call out ‘Phoenix’ as you throw it. Be careful, you will want to be at least ten to fifteen feet away from the impact point. These things don’t discriminate like that sword does.”

Jim gulped as looked down at the miniature red fireballs in the palm of his hand. “Uh, I’m not sure I want to be carrying this much firepower in my pocket, if you know what I mean.”

Ravyn gave him a sly wink. “Don’t worry, it will only add to what’s already there.”

Jim blushed, cleared his throat and slipped the red pellets into his pants pocket, unwilling to trust his voice at any retort.

I stepped up to his rescue. “OK, when we land, I’ll take the lead. I will try to manipulate the Shadow in the area to obscure our presence as much as possible. I’ll take down any guards as quickly and as quietly as possible while the Frau and Ravyn search around for any prisoners, once any of them are located, let me know, and I will either break the doors down or slip inside through the Shadowland.”

Both Ravyn and the Frau nodded in agreement.

“Jim, you stay right behind me unless I get tied up with a bigger opponent. Don’t try to help me out unless you don’t have any other choice. I’d rather you watched my back. If I have to slip into the Shadow to rescue a prisoner, I’ll want you to be near Ravyn and the Frau. Trust the sword. It won’t generally allow you to swing at something or someone that it doesn’t feel deserves it. Use those fireballs of Ravyn’s to cover our retreat, if necessary.”

He gulped and nodded as well, still holding the sword out away from his body.

I surveyed all of my companions before speaking again. “The opponent I am most worried about is Locks. If he shows up, I’ll take him on myself. He has grown in power and seems to have access to a lot of the abilities that I have, so don’t try to play the hero with him. His body has clearly been highly modified much like mine. I also have a very bad feeling that he is the one that is most tied up with the An’girasii.”

Jim cleared his throat. “Can you face him without this sword?”

I smiled and nodded. “One reason I thought to give you that blade for now was because I have the strangest feeling that the blade would not allow me to use it against him. It would probably allow you to swing at him, but that sword has a perverse sense of fair play that can be all to annoying. So, is everyone clear on the plan so far?”

Ravyn sighed and chuckled. “Yeah, it’s as clear as mud, since we hardly know this place that we are going to, we don’t know who or what we will face, and who, if anyone, will be there to be rescued. Other than those few, insignificant details, it’s about as good a plan as you’ve ever come up with Rusty!”

“OK then, let’s roll!”

Ravyn giggled as she grabbed a handful of thick black fur on the Frau’s shoulder and hoisted herself up onto the Frau’s back. She adjusted her skirt and reached out to take the briefcase that Jim was handing up to her. She took out the shoulder strap from a side pocket and clicked it into place before putting the thing over her shoulder and sliding it to her back, leaving both hands free.

“Last call for all passengers for Zombie Air, Flight 666, going straight to Hell!”

From the Frying Pan Into the Fire...Part 2

I stepped forward as I tapped the end of my baton in my free hand. “Klimm! Give me one reason that I shouldn’t just end your miserable existence right now?”

El Diablito looked down at the prone form of Jim at his feet before reaching down and picking up the black briefcase at his feet. He cackled before he spoke. “I know how much you value your friends, Rusty. They are all you have after all, now that I have that little bastard daughter of yours safely tucked away.”

His words stung me worse than anything physical that he could have done. I lunged forward, but drew myself short a couple of paces from them. “What have you done with Alexa?”

Diablito had flinched when I came forward, but found his courage again as Rose drew herself up beside him and Papa Locks inched forward as well.

“Oh, it wasn’t easy to get those arrogant fools to launch an all out attack on your organization. They didn’t think your ORC’s posed much of a threat just yet and weren’t too eager to expose themselves, so I had to clue them in on some of Drake’s little media tricks. Don’t worry Bones, your little Alexa is perfectly safe, although I can’t say as much for her erstwhile guardians.” He shook his head as spoke. “Papa Locks here was quite glad to show his mettle against that vile wench you call Cerrydwen. Rose will enjoy playing with her new pets very much!”

I was just about to explode in homicidal rage when I felt a small voice whisper into my head in a long-forgotten language.

“Rusty, it’s the Frau. Don’t react to my voice, just listen. Jim’s coming around and will make the first move. Don’t make any sudden moves until he does. Ravyn’s waiting as well. Once Jim makes his move, we’re going to need you to get us out of here as fast as you can. In the meantime, keep that Little Devil talking.”

It took me a moment to digest the Frau’s instructions and then realize that I couldn’t give anything away. It was also the first time I could remember where I was being asked to keep one of my enemies talking.

“Klimm, you’re playing with very dangerous matches if you think that you can control the An’girasii for any period of time.”

Diablito laughed again. “Everyone can be controlled, if you know the right levers to use.”

I shook my head. “You obviously have no idea of who you are dealing with, Klimm. Those things aren’t human. They need to be stopped before they take over this world. If you gave them information about us that allowed them take us down now, then you may have served their purposes more than they served yours.”

He nodded. “Yes, I’m quite sure that is what those arrogant fools believe. But you’re wrong, Bones. I know exactly what these creatures are. More importantly I know where they came from and what they fe….argh!!!”

Jim had lashed out with the bat that had fallen close to him and struck Diablito on the knee with a thunderous blow that ended in a vicious snapping sound. Jim was muttering something as swung that sounded quite a bit like ‘you don’t fuck with a man’s automobile’.

El Diablito dropped the briefcase as he fell to one knee, just in time for Jim to land a second, glancing blow to his shoulder that slid up and connected with his skull with a dull thud that ended all outcries from the older man.

Rose lashed out towards Jim with her talon-like nails, but not before one of the Frau’s enormous paws connected with her. The massive blow sent the slender woman flying over El Diablito and into Papa Locks before he could react, sending them both sprawling.

Ravyn grunted as she hurled a small of flame over the three main antagonists and into the room behind them. The ball expanded almost as quickly as it flew, blowing up into a great swirling maelstrom of fire that exploded and threw flames and debris in every direction as it landed.

Summoning all of my Will to keep myself from delivering the final blow to the sneaky bastard myself, I sighed and summoned the Shadow and pulled Jim, the Frau, Ravyn and the briefcase in with me before the flames of another Ravyn induced inferno could reach us.

Playing Hardball...Part 3

Jim tossed his mangled, misshapen cap on the couch and stalked off towards the front door mumbling something unintelligible.

Everyone else began to mill around, gathering items that they might need and packing them into bags.

The slamming front door told us that Jim was back, a small black briefcase in hand. He moved to the bar counter between the kitchen and common room and opened the case to reveal a computer of some sort.

I moved to get a better look. “What’s this all about?”

He glanced sideways at me before pressing a button that began firing up the thing. “I need to make the alert goes out to all ORC facilities and independent operators out there. This computer represents the merging of magick and technology that we have been able to come up with. It has the capability to uplink to the net in a way that can’t be tracked or traced by anything the government has. I don’t want anyone else caught by surprise.”

The inside of the case was completely taken up by this computer. He had opened it like a laptop computer, and while the keyboard looked a little clumsier than those of modern computers, the screen looked completely normal. It didn’t look particularly ‘magickal’. I said as much.

He grunted. “We designed it to look as normal as possible to outsiders. It’s not the equipment on the outside that makes it special. It’s the power source and connections to the net that make this thing special. Well, the software is unique. We couldn’t exactly ask Bill Gates to come up with an operating system for this thing.”

I watched as the screen booted up in a flash of colors and 3-D graphics. “Who did all of this?”

“It was a group effort. The software was designed by one of our closest friends from the San Diego Circle, Alana Danae, she’s both a Shaman and computer whiz. I’m really hoping that she was able to make it out alive from that attack out there, we’re going to need her talents.”

Once the computer finished booting up, I watched as Jim’s hand flew over the keyboard and mouse as he toggled open a number of different applications, sent dozens of messages. After the messages had gone out, he surfed among several different bank accounts. He cursed violently as some of the sites appeared to be blocked, but for those that he could get in, he logged into each one, made several lightning quick moves and logged out of each them quicker than I could even note which banks or brokerages they belonged to. He was closing the machine down within minutes.

As he closed the shell of the briefcase, clicking it into place, he looked up again at me. “It looks like some government agency has already identified some of our accounts and has placed blocks on them.” He shook his head. “We are under a coordinated, full fledged attack. These guys are playing hardball with us.”

Ravyn moved in between us, grabbed each of us in one arm looked up at Jim. “Well, as I understand it, it takes two teams to play any game with a ball. We need to gather ourselves, figure out exactly who is attacking and why, and hit back with everything that we can. I know there’s one particular Bane out there that I want a rematch with!”

Jim nodded. “I’ve sent out a request for an emergency Convocation of the Clans to take place at the Asylum once everyone has safely seen their people to safety. We need to know who’s already been attacked, what resources we’ll have available to us, and to come up with a battle plan before this situation gets any worse.”

Cerrydwen came up. “Did you say that the Convocation is taking place at the Asylum?”

“Yes.”

She shook her head and raised her left hand for emphasis. “You can count me out. I’m not setting foot in that cursed place.”

Ravyn cocked her head. “Why? What’s wrong with the place?”

The Frau chuckled as she waded into the conversation. “The Asylum is in the basement of an old mental institution just outside of Detroit. It sits on a large, abandoned campus that affords us a lot more privacy because it is rumored to be haunted.”

Cerrydwen shuddered. “It’s not a rumor. That place is awash in tortured Spirits and echoes with their pained cries. I could feel the terror of that place just be driving by it. I won’t be going there with you.”

The Frau patted her on the shoulder. “That’s OK, Dear. I’m sure Herne could use some help getting everyone off to the safe houses. Besides, I don’t think Naomi and Alexa should go to the Asylum. It is not a pleasant place.”

Jim nodded. “That’s probably for the best then. Frau, Ravyn, Rusty and I will be heading to the Asylum-we can get there by driving in less than hour-and set up for the Convocation. Cerrydwen, Naomi and Alexa will use the Transit Point and head out to the Lodge and then off to whichever safe house Herne feels is the safest.”

I remembered something that had almost gotten lost in all of the excitement. “Hey, we might want to make a side trip, if we can. Drake gave me the location to his store of weapons and items.” I looked over at Jim. “And, with that computer, I think you’ll be able to access the accounts he gave me the passwords to. I seriously doubt that anyone has been able to put any blocks on those funds.”

Hell's Bells...Finale

I turned to Naomi. “We can’t leave until I do something about those creatures out there that are preventing us from leaving. Will you be OK here for a moment?”

She glanced out the window behind me and shook her head. “No, we’re coming with you.”

“What are talking about? It is quite a drop from here!”

Naomi reached out and touched my shoulder. “We’ll make it down there, you just worry about yourself.”

Alexa perked up as she looked from me to her mother. “Are we going to fly again, Mama?”

Naomi nodded and put both arms around Alexa again before smiling down at her daughter. “Yes, dear, we’re going to fly again, but not too much this time, OK?”

Alexa bobbed her head and pumped her tiny fist. “Yay!”

Naomi shifted her gaze back to me. “Go now, we’ll follow behind you at a safe distance.”

I shook my head and decided to trust her judgment. I knew that she would never do anything that she would endanger Alexa.

Using my gloved hands, I cleared all of the sharp shards of glass from the opening of the window, pulling the curtains off the wall in the process. Once it was clear, I stepped up onto the windowsill, hunching my shoulders down to fit into the square opening, if barely.

Another violent explosion rocked the house as I prepared to jump by glancing to the ground beneath me. Unearthly screams of pain and terror accompanied the blast, giving me the impetus I needed to get going. I pushed myself forward, kicking out with my legs in an attempt to land standing up.

It worked, almost.

I landed on my backside with a tremendous thud in one of Ravyn’s favorite flower beds. I let go of the rucksack that had unbalanced my fall and started scrambling up to my feet amid of a shower of dirt and ruined petals. My actions became more urgent as I noticed two wolf-like shadows emerge from the bushes near where I had seen the line of figures holding up the shield in the Shadowland. It was all I could do to get Excalibur out and my feet set before they were upon me.

Apparently, the blade decided that these creatures, were worthy of taking on and guided my hand as I lashed out at the first of the attacking beasts. I felt the blade sink into it, but its weight bore the blade downward as the second beast launched itself into my chest, knocking back to the ground.

The creature snarled and snapped at my face, held back only by my left hand on its throat. I tried to wrest Excalibur from the first creature’s chest, but I lacked the leverage to yank it free while lying on my back, pinned down by the second.

I was just about to give up on pulling the sword free and taking the thing on with my hands when the creature, much to our mutual surprise, began to float above me, its paws flailing helplessly in an attempt to regain traction.

Naomi’s voice rang out from the shadows to my left, obviously straining with effort. “Now, Rusty! I can’t hold it for long, it’s too heavy!”

Using only my left hand, I heaved upwards and yanked at Excalibur with my right. The blade slipped free and slashed upwards across the throat of the still struggling second creature. Its lifeless body fell to the ground as I stood up.

Naomi stepped from the shadows, pale and sweaty with exhaustion, Alexa standing beside her.

Alexa was straining against Naomi’s hand, reaching toward the first dead creature. “Poor wolfies!”

“Hush, girl. These aren’t real wolves.” Naomi pulled her back gently.

“Follow me.” I waved at them to get behind me. “We need to get to the perimeter so I can get you guys to safety.”

I reached down and grabbed the rucksack with my left hand and brandished the glowing blade of Excalibur with my right as I began moving towards where I had seen the figures standing in the Shadowland.

Nothing else moved to attack us as we moved forward, so I was able to take a glance back towards the Coop. The building behind us was glowing orange from the flames that were now eating at the place from several locations inside. Smoke billowed upwards, disappearing in the night sky.

I wondered how this could be happening without any response from the Fire Department, but I had to push that thought away as we approached the perimeter. I felt, more than saw, the field of energy that had been set up by the man-sized creatures that I had seen earlier. There was no sign of them with my normal sight, so I shifted my vision to the Shadowland.

As my vision shifted, I found myself staring in the vacant, nearly lifeless eyes of a pale, naked creature that stood, unmoving, spread-eagle. Its long, thin arms stretched outward towards the outstretched arms of others just like it.

Looking into its face, I now recognized them for what they were…Drake had called these creatures Dream Weavers. They were another servant race of the An’girasii. They worked in groups of thirteen, using their powers from the Shadowland to create powerful, complex illusions in the ‘real’ world.

They apparently also had the ability to shut off my access to the Shadowland.

I lashed out with Excalibur towards the Dream Weaver immediately in front of me.

There was a tremendous amount of resistance, as if the illusory shield created by the Weavers was resisting the power of the blade. Sparks of magickal energy erupted as the blade fought its way through the shield and into abdomen of the Weaver.

The shower of sparks turned into an eruption of energy that must have flashed into the real world as well. The entire illusion that had been created by the Weavers crumbled in an explosion of energy that threw me back into normal vision again.

Alexa called out in appreciate surprise. “Oooh, fireworks!”

I sheathed Excalibur in one motion and reached out to Naomi. “Hold on! This is going to be rough!”

I called the Shadow and stepped from this former place of safety to another, Naomi and Alexa in tow…

Hell's Bells...Part 3

“Yes, Sweetie, you’ll get a chance to ride on Betsy.” Ravyn looked up from Alexa to the disheveled Naomi. “Go get the things you’ll need for the next day or so. We need to get you two to the safe house. Don’t worry about getting dressed, there’s a full wardrobe for you there. I’ll watch her until you get ready.”

Naomi nodded glumly and shuffled off back towards her room.

Alexa bounded into Ravyn’s outstretched arms with a giggle and a flop of the raggedy stuffed bear.

I shifted my balance and spoke up. “What do you need me to do?”

Ravyn hugged Alexa, inhaling deeply of her essence before responding. “Stick by close by me until we see the girls off. We don’t know what we are facing just yet, and I want to make sure Alexa is safe.”

She sat back down at her desk and reached out to the business phone. She punched a couple of buttons, activating the intercom for the Coop. Her voice came through loud and clear over the hidden speakers in every room of the large house. “Attention this is a Code 3 emergency. Secure all doors and windows. Rally point is the Library in zero-five minutes. I repeat, this is a Code 3 emergency, rally to the Library in 5 minutes. This is not a drill people.”

I arched my brown and nodded. “I’m impressed.”

She shot me a sarcastic look. “Hey there, some of us actually make contingency plans for when things to go wrong instead of winging it.” She stood back up and pointed to behind the door. “Grab the bag behind that door, would ya?”

I turned, moved the door enough to see the black rucksack that I had never noticed before and reached for it, just in time to hear the glass breaking in several places around the house and the screams of shock and fear that accompanied those sounds…

Alexa’s voice cut through the other sounds. “They’re here!”

Ravyn’s curses were far more colorful and imaginative than mine were…

Hell's Bells...Part 2

The reunion of mother and daughter was all tears and hugs from mom and giggling laughter and ticklish hugs from daughter. Alexa had come alive as we neared Naomi’s room and erupted from my arms with bubbly exclamation of “Mama!” as she bounded towards the huddled, still sleepy form of Naomi.

Naomi gave me a teary-eyed glare over Alexa’s pig tails.

I held up my hands as I backed out of the room. “I’m back in control, Naomi. I’m sorry!”

Between my protestations and Alexa’s energetic, giggling hugs, her glare softened. She nodded before hugging her daughter back.

Ravyn touched my shoulder. “Let’s leave them alone, they’ll need to get some rest.”

I followed her back out into the hall and towards the small office that she kept at the Coop.

“So did you receive that package from Drake?”

Ravyn nodded as she settled behind her desk and pulled out a large yellow and red DHL box that rattled as she moved it. “Yes. I haven’t seen keys like this since I was a child.” She reached in and pulled out a large ring of skeleton keys, each one slightly different than the others.

I shook my head. “You wouldn’t believe where this stuff is hidden…”

“The Angel-people are coming.”

We both turned to look down at the small, figure of Alexa standing in her nightgown and bunny slippers, a teddy bear dangling from her left hand.

Ravyn was the first to recover. “What was that, Sweetheart?”

“The Angel-people are coming, soon.”

Naomi padded in behind Alexa, her hair unkempt and her face stained with tears. “She keeps repeating this phrase. She also insisted on coming and telling you herself. She refused to go to bed.”

“Auntie Ravyn, the Angel-people are coming. Can I ride on Betsy?”

I leaned forward. “Alexa, do you mean that the An’girasii are coming here soon?”

She nodded.

“How soon are they coming?”

“They are almost here. We need to go bye-bye. Can I ride on Betsy?”

Hell's Bells...Part 1

I emerged from the Shadow and stepped into the library at the Coop with Alexa cradled in my arms, dead-to-the-world asleep.

I was met by the stern glare of Ravyn, her right hand held high with a ball of red and orange fire swirling around her clenched fist. “Is that you, Rusty?”

Hugging Alexa close to my chest, I nodded. “Yeah, it’s me, finally.”

“Sorry, but I need to be sure you are who you appear to be, Rusty. Look directly into my eyes.”

I looked up from the cherubic brown face of Alexa to meet Ravyn’s steely gaze. “Drake’s gone for good now. He had his little chat with Alexa.”

Ravyn’s face softened as she realized that I was telling the truth. “Thank the Goddess, it is you!” The fireball surrounding her fist died with a fizzle as she brought it down, still smoking, and moved to take Alexa from my arms.

“How long has it been since he took control?” I let my arms fall to the side as Alexa settled into her arms and nuzzled up against her neck, still asleep.

Ravyn shook her head. “I’m not sure, but it must be close to two months now.” She shifted Alexa into her left arm, brushing back Alexa’s dark, curly bangs from her forehead. “Naomi is going to be so relieved to know that she’s back safe and sound. What did Drake do with her and why did he have to take her like he did?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Is Naomi OK?”

She nodded. “Yes, she’s been beside herself for days now, but she wasn’t harmed.”

“Good. Drake didn’t let me know what he was doing all of the time, so I’m not sure what happened when he came for Alexa, but he did let me experience his passing when he took her to the Tree.” I shook my head. “That was the weirdest thing to watch Drake bow down before my toddler of a daughter and pay his respects to her. It got even weirder when she acknowledged his respect and spoke to him in that same voice that she used back at Yule.”

“What did she say to him?”

“They spoke together for quite a while, but the main thing was that she thanked him for his service and then forgave him for everything that he had done to harm others.”

Ravyn looked incredulous. “She thanked Drake for his service? And she forgave him?”

I nodded. “Yep, and that’s what took the longest. He had left me in my body by that time and stood before her in pure Spirit form, looking almost exactly as he had when he was alive. She reached up with her little hands to his head bowed head and whispered name after name after name of all of the people that he hurt or killed throughout his miserable, long assed life and with each name, he became just a tiny bit lighter, more translucent. It must have taken days.”

She looked down into Alexa’s face before looking back up at me. “That must have been thousands of names…how did she know them all?”

“I have no idea. But I can tell you that it was a fucking who’s who of world history, that’s for sure. You have no idea how much of the history that we learn about in school was influenced by the people that Drake screwed with or outright killed.”

“I think I can believe it after all of the stuff he used your body to get stirred up. Rusty, you are not going to be able to show your face in public for quite some time—I’ve lost count of the number of different law enforcement agencies that have contacted me looking for you. I even had to send away the FBI students away from here after Agent Wilson called and told me that you had been declared a fugitive from justice and that you had made the Most Wanted list for a string of murders!”

“Shit! He let me see some of that stuff, but obviously not everything! He told me that he was taking down servants of the An’girasii.”

She pursed her lips and clucked her tongue. “That may well be what he was doing, but he has landed you in a lot of hot water in the process. Did you know that he took Dick Arnold?”

I stepped back at that. “No, I had no idea.”

She shook her head this time. “Well, you’ve got a lot of catching up to do, but not before we get this little girl back to her mot

Meditation

This post has been much harder to write than I ever envisioned that it would be.

I had been looking forward to writing about the final and permanent demise of Drake Kampmann for years now. Now that I faced with writing about that very thing, I am filled with a profound sense of sadness and loss that I haven’t felt since my own father passed away twenty years ago.

For the better part of a decade I have both feared and hated Drake Kampmann. At first he was the aloof, mysterious director of the Omega Project—someone who first recruited me and then oversaw my participation in that project—my fate was literally in his hands, in more ways than I cared to consider.

There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that Drake was a ruthless, cold-hearted, evil sociopath who wouldn’t hesitate to kill someone if he thought that there was any advantage to him or his plans by doing so. He used everyone that he ever came into contact with, manipulating them into doing what he wanted done by telling half truths and outright lies. If he ever knew what it was to love another person, he had long allowed the memory of such love to slip from his memory.

So, why do I feel as conflicted by his passing as I do now?

That is hard question to answer.

In part, I think it is because so long as Drake was around, I had a focal point for my own fears and insecurities. He was easy to blame for whatever hardship I faced. If I had never met Drake, I felt like my marriage would have been as strong as it was before, and that I could have sat back, fat and happy, as I watched my kids grow up. I would have advanced easily within the Dearborn Hills Police Department and been getting closer and closer to a nice middle class retirement of watching baseball games and fishing on the weekends.

It is like there is this alternate reality out there—that if Drake had never come looking for me, all of this weird freaky shit would never have happened. People like Papa Locks and El Diablito would have never even existed. Magick would have remained a figment of my wife’s imagination. Monsters like Grendel, Ma Grendel, Doppelgangers, and Banes would have stayed as characters in someone else’s books.

But then I remember all of the wonderful people that I have met because of Drake and I marvel at how the universe works. I would have never met Ravyn Fyre, Jim, Cerrydwen and the Frau. I would have never had the chance to learn about all of the different paths between the worlds that John Red Bear taught me to explore.

If Drake hadn’t found me, would another man, another officer, been able to become the creature that I am now? Would that person have been able to break free from the flawed prison of the Omega Project Chakra yet remained in this world to take on Drake and his cohorts? Would that person have embraced the immortality and been satisfied to exist in that cold, dead shell of his own body? Would that person have become a willing, but less than capable servant, that the Omega Project seemed designed to create?

So much has happened since that time that Drake came to find me—a whole universe of magick and monsters and strange new worlds has been opened up to me to explore—that I cannot even comprehend what it is to be that ‘normal’ guy anymore, living out a quiet, suburban life in ignorant bliss.

As much as I was dragged kicking and screaming into this (un)dead existence, I now can’t imagine things being any different.

There is so much to tell about Drake’s passing and the things that he did while he had use of this body—the messes he made that I am still trying to clear up, the enemies that he tracked down and eliminated, and the gifts he left for me and the ORC’s, but that stuff will have to wait just a little bit longer. I have needed to take this time to contemplate what his passing has meant to me.

There is little enough time for reflection, however, as events have continued to take place. My next series of posts will focus on what has most recently taken place while we tried to recover and safeguard those things that Drake left for us, and what is taking place right now in the Shadows all around as the An’girasii have begun to make moves against us.

The story of Drake’s passing will be a story for another time, since it is one that is worth taking the time to tell well. He deserves at least that, if not much else.

Farewell Message

It is perhaps time to bid all of you a fond a farewell, as my work here is almost done.

It may seem like I have not done or said much here on this blog of Rusty’s, but you may rest assured that I have made very good use of the time that has been allotted to me in Rusty’s body.

I have spent much of the last few weeks (the exchange on the oil tanker happened quite some time ago) engaged in the writing and recording of several volumes of work that Rusty will have access to and will have control over. After our next exchange, I will no longer have the ability to provide him with the answers or assistance that I have since my ‘death’. What Rusty decides to do with this information is entirely up to him. Hopefully, he and his allies will come to realize that while my actions and many of my motivations appear to be evil and without remorse, that I have always acted in the best interests of humanity.

I have, however, been able to take care of some necessary business interests during my free time.

Since I am not the writer that Rusty is, I will just provide a brief summary of some of the things that Rusty will find that he has become involved with. It will be up to him to provide a more detailed account of these events, should he choose to do so:

Daniel Bernstein is no more. His betrayal of me and all that I have worked for was very nearly disastrous. Before he died, I did restore his memories to him so that he could try to explain himself. His pleadings were not nearly convincing enough. His body will never be recovered.

The Professor will soon be receiving a rather large envelope containing the account numbers and access codes to a number of my oldest, and largest, bank holdings in Switzerland. The information is encrypted, so Rusty will have to provide the keys to that encryption before the Professor will be able to access those monies. The resources in those accounts will be able to fund the activities of the ORC’s for generations to come.

Ravyn Fyre will also be receiving a package delivered by a special courier. That package will contain the keys and access codes to a vault where I have stored various artifacts, items, and tomes that I had created or have otherwise obtained throughout the millennia. She will be able to ask Rusty for the actual location of that vault. Zenny Al Farhan will be able to examine those items and determine if they will be of any assistance to the ORC cause. Ms. Fyre will have to take the responsibility for safeguarding those items that will be more dangerous than helpful, but I am confident in her ability to do so.

I have left a list of influential people for Rusty of those individuals who I believe to have already been replaced by Doppelgangers or who are in eminent danger of being targeted by them. I have taken the liberty of eliminating a couple of the less obvious ones for Rusty, but given how my style is completely different from his, he will have to deal with the consequences of my ‘interventions’ and figure out how to address the remaining individuals appropriately.

Rusty may also have to deal with the potential negative consequences of the ‘disappearance’ of a small number of urns from some rather prestigious museums and university research centers, especially if I failed to adequately disable all of the appropriate surveillance equipment. Those urns held beings that I don’t feel that Rusty and his allies were adequately prepared to deal with at this time. I have taken them and disposed of them for the time being. I have left Rusty an account of each of those beings in the event that my disposal of them wasn’t as permanent as I would have liked.

Finally, if all goes as I have planned, Rusty will return to the full control of his body and with some memory of the things that I have done with it while in the presence of his daughter. I have one final appointment to keep with Alexa. If she is truly the individual that I believe her to be, then I will be able to move on from this world, finally.

Rusty and his companions have seen glimpses of what she is potentially capable of doing, but I don’t think that they fully realize her importance just yet. The An’girasii will become of aware of her rather soon, which is why I have endowed all that I can into the hands of the ORC’s. Rusty and the ORC’s appear to be her best chance of growing into the catalyst for change that she has the potential to be. If I have succeeded, then in the next thousand years, humans will achieve the kind of transcendent awareness and enlightenment through her teachings that will eliminate the differences between Jews, Christians, Muslims, Buddhists, and Hindus. Instead there will be a new guiding force, more of a philosophy than a religion. It will perhaps be called Alexandrianism. And that will be what the An’girasii will be fighting so hard to prevent, for it is religion and all of its false teachings, false promises, and the excesses of the fundamentalists of each of the world’s major religions that the An’girasii use to prey upon humanity.

In this blog, through Rusty’s eyes, you have seen me as an evil, implacable foe willing to sacrifice innocent people to further my agenda. Much of what you have seen is entirely true. In taking on the foes that I have, in hunting them down as I had to do countless times over the millennia, I have had to do many evil things and sacrifice many innocent people. Finally though, I have a worthy successor, a man who, while deeply flawed, has proven himself capable to facing implacable evil and holding his own. Rusty has taken the tools that I endowed him with and grown into something stronger, yet more curious and more compassionate than I could ever be.

So, I leave you, and the rest of the world, in the hands of a naïve zombie with the powers of a demon but a heart of gold supported by a kooky cast of well-meaning misfits. It is the best I could do in the time allotted to me. I hope it is enough.

Drake

Anthraximander

Well, I suppose it is time to wrap up the events on the tanker.

You will have to pardon me if you find significant differences in the way that I tell this tale as opposed to how our dear Rusty would do so. He seems to have taken to this online journaling/writing business, while I write merely to convey information.

The Bane—an old foe that I have known since our run-ins during the Bronze Age in Ancient Greece as Anthraximander—was caught entirely flat-footed by our maneuver. Anthraximander had anticipated that he would be able to create problems for Rusty because of all of the vestiges of the Drashe’en that remained within the poor lad, but he had not anticipated that Rusty would be willing to surrender his body to me.

Before I could deal with my old foe, however, I had to regain control over the Drashe’en insurgency and put ‘Ma Grendel’ (that is a fabulous name for the old gal, if I don’t say so myself) back into place. It was easier for me that it was for Rusty simply because I am just as ruthless and evil as that old bitch ever was. In short order I used my Will to shatter her into the multitudes of shards that Rusty refers to as ‘the Voices’ and shove those pieces back into their appropriate places.

Anthraximander had stood there watching, assuming that his spell was working as planned on Rusty. Ever since I was very young, I have realized that my own ‘Spirit form’ (to use another Rusty-ism) is completely invisible to even the most powerful Casters, it is something that has served me very well over the millennia. Knowing that the Bane would be unable to discern that I was now in control over Rusty’s body, I staggered to my feet and acted as if I was moving to sit upon the throne of the dead that he had wanted Rusty to sit in.

One thing that I have tried to pass on to Rusty, especially in dealing with An’girasii and their servants and allies, is that it is useless to spend much time talking to them. Rusty always seems to find himself engaging in conversations with these creatures, which is completely useless. The one time he had success against a doppelganger was when he used that damn sword of his to lop its head off without any discussion or warning. These creatures use conversation, discussions, and speeches to measure up and then deceive their foes as their weave their own hidden spells to take advantage of their prey. The most effective way in dealing with these enemies is ruthless, merciless, and sudden violence.

Take our friend Anthraximander for an example.

He is rather typical for a Bane. Banes are creatures of almost pure Spirit. They don’t have physical bodies of their own, so they have to possess someone—usually just a normal person of any race or sex—and then consuming the victims’ own Spirit to fuel the transformation of that body into a form that the Bane perceives as having the maximum intimidation factor for other humans. The process of possessing, then molding and shaping that body takes several years at the minimum, and can take decades. By taking on forms that most humans see only in their nightmares and then surrounding themselves with a cadre of undead Reavers, all while wielding equal amounts of magick and fear Banes usually avoid any physical confrontations.

If Rusty had taken my advice from the beginning, he would never have listened to Anthraximander in the first place. He should have continued acting like the killing machine he was designed to be, and left the talking for another time. Instead, he treats these creatures like he’s a liberal social worker on a mission to solve all of the world’s ills.

I didn’t make that mistake. Before Anthraximander could figure out that his tightly woven spells were now useless, I barreled into him, snapping his staff like a twig with one blow. As the creature staggered back and stumbled, I wrapped my left arm around its head and dragged him down in a head lock.

He knew he was in trouble now as I felt the panic rise within him. His scrawny, pasty bald head was now uncovered, revealing the twisted, warped face of a once young Asian man. “What are you doing, Brother?”

I smiled. “You old fool, Anthraximander. You’re not dealing with the kid any more. I hope you didn’t invest too much time in this body, you fool, because you are about to lose it.”

“Only one human knows that name…it cannot be…”

I smiled again as I yanked the head off of its scrawny neck.

The Banes screamed in pain and defiance as its physical body collapsed in a heap. Its Spirit slipped from the body and gathered into a dark mist that hung in the air in front of me.

“How is this possible?”

I dropped the early bloodless head onto the floor and turned my back on the now virtually harmless mist before replying. “I am not inclined to aid you in answering that question, Anthraximander. But, while you search out a new body, you might contemplate what new tactics you and your kind will need to deal with the likes of me again. You caught the kid unaware this time, but that won’t happen again, I can promise you that. Now move along. I have things to do here.”

The black mist that was all that was left of the Bane gathered into a tight ball as I glanced back at it and passed through the hull of the ship into the daylight beyond.

Now that the Bane was physically destroyed, the band of Reavers that depended on its power would collapse back into lifelessness.

As the throne behind me melted into a pile of rotting body parts, I turned and stood over that damnable sword. I could feel its hatred radiating up at me. I couldn’t leave a sword like this laying on this ship would soon be swarming with disgusted sailors and Coast Guardsmen, so I knelt down and held Rusty’s gloved hand over the white hot hilt.

“Look, Blade. I know you detest me as much as I detest you. But let me pick you up long enough to sheath you in that place where Rusty has devised for you and then you can wait for him to return. I will not attempt to use you in any fashion.”

It relented for the brief moment that allowed me to pick it up and sheath it, allowing it to slip back into the Shadowland.

I left the cabin and headed to the helm of the ship, passing the bodies of the Reavers that now lay motionless where they had last stood.

Once at the helm, I pushed aside the slumped body of the Reaver that had been steering the ship and pulled back on the handle that controlled the speed of the engines. Slowly the ship began to stop its forward motion.

Last, I slipped back down to the deck long enough to find the flagpole and hoist the Coast Guard flag that Rusty had been given by that Commander.

I didn’t stick around to see the reaction of the assault teams.