Calm Before the Storm (8 page)

Aamon Abrasax leaned back in his chair with
a self-satisfied grin. Target one secured and he’d just heard from Shax that
target two had also been contained. This was a welcome piece of news. Perhaps
also a good time to make a call to Choronzon as his star appeared to be in the
ascendant. At least he didn’t need to go to Chthonia again. Earth technology
was improving all the time, even though they lacked the natural magick of
Ophiuchus and Lyra, a tweak made here or there to their satellite systems using
such magick, would boost the connection to reach other planets. Conference call
time.

He dialed up the number and the large
plasma screen crackled to life.

“My Lord Choronzon, I have news,” Abrasax
declared, eager to make an impression. Two yellow orbs with red slits rotated
in his direction. Scaly claws waved him on without comment. Choronzon was
obviously engaged in other activities not evident on the screen. Really
considering the guy was ancient, he acted as though he were a randy teenager!
Abrasax was grateful the screen was directed only at Choronzon’s head. Abrasax
curled his lips in disgust. “War my lord!” he announced triumphantly, intent on
grabbing Choronzon’s attention. The red slits at the center flared with interest.

“You have him?” Choronzon’s hissing tones
crawled over Abrasax’s skin eliciting a shudder of revulsion that instilled a
sliver of fear deep in his bones. He could only hope his news would keep
Choronzon happy.

“We have him contained.”

“Do we have his allegiance?”

“I believe so my lord.”

Eyebrows of black snapped sharply into a
frown. “Believe?” Abrasax could sense the displeasure. “We also have Peace,” he
was quick to reply.

“Well, Abra old boy, it’s good to see you
understand the concept of the buy-one-soul-get-one-free deal.” Choronzon
beckoned his long bony nails in the direction of the screen. “Do not let either
of them slip through your fingers, Abrasax. Get control of War and ensure that
the essence of Peace becomes ours. The sooner the extraction rite is performed
the better. Do. Not. Fuck. This. Up.”

The screen returned to darkness with a
blink.
Okaay. I got this. It’s in the bag.
Abrasax turned to the guard
at the door. “Tell Rodach to get Bellor up here pronto—and tell Rusalka she is
needed.” The guard headed off as Abrasax focused on one of the many screens in
his office, watching with a grin as Tyr Bellor, his ticket to glory, exited a
vehicle led by a vanguard of black-clad mercenaries.

* * * * *

The van finally came to an abrupt stop and
Tyr emerged into the depths of an undergroundparking lot. Following
Rodach and his men, he entered the lift, which ascended to the penthouse of
what Tyr suspected was the Abrasax Tower. He was led through a plush foyer of
white-and-black marble to large reinforced steel double doors. The doors swung
open remotely and Tyr was left alone to enter Abrasax’s lair. The
black-and-white marble theme continued into the room but inset into the marble
surface was a pattern of swirling symbols that Tyr could have sworn appeared
almost demonic.

Abrasax was comfortably relaxed behind a
large ebony desk. Behind him, a huge expanse of glass led out onto a balcony
and revealed a breathtaking view of the city below. Tyr saw that it was now
dusk. To his right, the wall was covered top to bottom with TV monitors.
Abrasax obviously had cameras posted at pretty much every part of the building.
Some pictured other locations altogether and Tyr recognized the interior of
Sal’s gym on one of them. He realized then that Abrasax must have watched him
in training many times.

“Bellor, welcome. I see the extraction was
successful.” Abrasax sat back in his chair surveying Tyr with intense blue
eyes. Tyr caught a sudden flash of yellow that blinked across the two orbs and
then just as quickly subsided. “Did it have to be quite so loud?” Tyr asked
casually.

“Why, were you concerned for someone?”
Abrasax retorted a sly look in his eye.

Tyr ignored his comment, unwilling to
consider the possible insinuation. “Are you going to tell me what the fuck is going
on here?” he demanded. “You were there the night Sal died, you framed me for
his death, sprung me from jail and now you’ve kidnapped his family and
threatened them. What exactly do you want from me, Abrasax?”

“I have you already, Bellor. I own you. You
see I know what you really are and if you cooperate then I think you’ll find
the situation of mutual benefit to us both.”

Tyr was seriously pissed off now. Sal had
hinted all sorts of weird stuff about how Tyr was not your average homo sapiens
and now Abrasax was alluding to something similar as he had also done on the
night of Sal’s death.Tyr’s thoughts focused on that night, struggling
to recall the bizarre events that resulted with his waking from darkness to
find Sal bleeding and dead beneath him. It was the night after the big fight
and Tyr had needed some breathing space, away from all the media attention.
He’d ended up at the gym to find Sal working out.

Since the win and the initial elation, he
had begun to feel unsettled, disorientated. He now wondered if that had more to
do with the girl he’d seen in the crowd that night, rather than anything else.
He had tried to explain how he felt to Sal and he thought Sal might have been
about to open up to him, when Abrasax arrived, flanked by three large male
heavies. Having seen the monitors, he now realized that Abrasax’s arrival had
been no coincidence. He had been watching and listening. Tyr remembered his
irritation that Abrasax had interrupted his discussion with Sal.

Abrasax strode in, his cashmere coat a
stark white against the shabby gray walls of the gym. The three males spread
out to take up positions around Tyr and Sal. Tyr recognized two of them from
his time running with the street gangs. Moloch and Dagon were mindless thugs
who excelled in inflicting pain on their victims, enjoying their work with
excessive enthusiasm. Sal dropped his towel and turned to face Abrasax. “You
come to check up on our boy?”

Abrasax drew two cigars out of his
pocket, handing one to Sal who took it but didn’t light it. The third heavy lit
Abrasax’s and he blew out rings of smoke in a smooth breath. “I’ve come to
check on his potential, that it’s still contained and ready for realignment.”
Sal’s head dropped for a second as Tyr struggled to understand what the hell Abrasax
was talking about.

“Potential”! I’ve just won the world
heavyweight title for crissakes! Potential fulfilled, I’d say,
thought Tyr,
wondering at the increasing tension between the two men.

Sal appeared nervous all of a sudden but
replied in a resigned tone, “Tyr needs to know the truth.”

“And what truth is that, Sal? Think
before you speak,” Abrasax countered, flicking cigar ash casually before taking
another drag.

“The truth about his origins, what he
is, what you are.”

“Sal,” interrupted Abrasax in a menacing
tone, “you know it is not yet time. Only when the other potential has been
revealed can we explain those things. Only when he is fully contained and ours
should we even consider it.”

“He has a right to choose, Abrasax, not
to be brainwashed like you have countless others before.”

That remark seemed to catch Abrasax’s
attention and it was then that Tyr recalled catching a flicker of yellow in his
eyes. “Well, well, well,” drawled Abrasax slowly. “It seems you have been
living amongst the Earthani for too long. Their sense of fair play has affected
your judgement and your loyalty. That is the result of integrating, mating with
one of them.” He spat out the last words vehemently.

Sal’s eyes had widened at that and Tyr
had caught the fear in his gaze. “Leave my family out of this.”

“You have set these events in motion,
Sal, too late to back track now,” Abrasax replied, crushing the cigar butt with
deliberation under the heel of his expensive brogues. He motioned to two of his
thugs, who grabbed Sal by his shoulders and forced him onto his knees. Abrasax
dialed a number on his phone and gave an instruction. “Do it now,” he said
coldly.

Sal began to struggle, his face going
white in terror. His body then twisted and writhed as Sal let out a bellow of
excruciating agony. “Not Leah!” he screamed, his body falling limply onto the
floor.

At this point Tyr knew that the game
being played out in front of him was life or death. He didn’t understand any of
it but his loyalty to Sal took over. “Leave him alone!” he shouted and tried to
lunge forward to drag Sal away but he found himself frozen, paralyzed by a
force that held his whole body rigid.

Abrasax ignored him and continued to
face Sal with a look of disgust on his face. “You bonded yourself to an
Earthani, didn’t you, Sal?” he spat out. “It’s made you lose focus and we
cannot tolerate that. We have decided that you are surplus to requirements, as
is your family. So pray to Chaos if you still have some belief in the cause,”
he continued, his expression changing to one of relish as Sal’s white face
turned ashen. “It will do you little good because nothing can save you now.” He
nodded to Moloch who stood on Sal’s right. “Finish it.”

With those two words Moloch drew a
curved blade from inside his jacket and plunged it deep into Sal’s heart
twisting it left and right, as Sal screamed in agony. The blade withdrew, a
bloody crimson and Sal’s body crumpled to the floor.

Tyr tried to fight the invisible force
that held him immobile but all he could do was watch in horror, his voice
frozen in a silent scream. There was a sudden release and his own body fell
forward, the barrier gone, momentum dragging him to his knees next to Sal’s
limp form.

“You fucking bastard!” Tyr rose up to
charge at Abrasax, his stunned horror transforming into intense fury, but
Moloch and Dagon wrenched him back, forcing him into the same position they had
held Sal.

Abrasax eyed him as if he were an
insect. “Be very careful,” he drawled. “Sal was a fool. I do hope you are not.
You have a destiny to fulfill and the potential that’s inside of you as yet you
cannot comprehend, but it means power and strength. It’s within your grasp. All
you have to do is join our cause.”

“I will fucking kill you!” Tyr returned
his gaze with ferocious anger, a haze of red blinding his vision.

Abrasax regarded him thoughtfully for a
second. “I see you are still in need of some lessons,” he finally said.
“Moloch, clean up the blade.”

Bending, he looked Tyr directly in the
face grabbing his hair at the same time as he spoke words that were chilling in
their intent. “You will tell no one of this or there will be consequences. What
were the names of Sal’s girls? No matter, you get the picture I’m sure.”
Abrasax finally released Tyr’s head and stood back. “Knock him out, Dagon.” Those
were the last words Tyr heard before blackness descended and he awoke to find
himself lying over Sal’s dead body, the curved knife in his hand, surrounded by
a contingent of law enforcement with guns pointing at his head.

The scene dissolved back to the present and
Tyr realized with some clarity that Leah was probably dead too, guessing they
had killed her just before killing Sal. That agonizing scream of Sal’s would
eat into his soul forever. Sal knew what they had done and it had broken him.
Bastards! He would never forgive them. His anger grew hotter, clamoring for
vengeance. But Abrasax had Melanie and Delora. He knew that Abrasax would
continue to hold them over his head. Tyr was fast losing patience. He wanted
answers and he wanted them now.

“Get to the point. We both know you want
something from me, so don’t beat around the bush. Tell me what the fuck I
really am!”

“I think before I do that, you need to see
what I really am.”

As he spoke, Abrasax’s body began mutating
in size, expanding until he stood nearly eight feet tall, his blue eyes flashed
that yellow color again but this time it didn’t disappear. The clothes he had
been wearing fell away as if part of an illusion and Tyr blinked his eyes shut
and then open again just to prove to himself that what he was seeing was real.

What the fuck!
Tyr wondered briefly if he’d been given some kind of hallucinogen.
Abrasax’s skin had now transformed into a scaly gray color and his fingers that
had stretched into bony, black claws were developing seriously sharp nails. Tyr
stood his ground. He refused to be intimidated by something he did not
understand. There had to be some logical explanation—either that or he was
headed for the insane asylum!

“Hmmm,” said Abrasax, his voice an arrogant
drawl. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by your distinctly unimpressed
reaction. You really are a cool customer, Tyr Bellor. Most Earthani are usually
hysterical and begging for mercy by now.”

“I guess I’m not most Earthani,” replied
Tyr. “Either this is some kind of illusion, or you really are an
eight-foot-tall demon with delusions of grandeur and mega strong body odor.”
Tyr waved a hand in front of his face. “Seriously man, you need to deal with
that.”

A flash of anger crossed Abrasax’s face and
Tyr knew he had him rattled.
Keep on the offensive
. But then he smirked
with understanding as if he realized Tyr’s game, suddenly calming and returning
quickly to his human form.

“I’ll ignore the attempt at humor. I know
you Earthani use it to deflect in this kind of situation. But you need to
understand a few things about this universe and the position you Earthani
occupy in it.”

“So you’re an alien and I’m Earthani?
That’s basically a human, right?”

“Yes but you are a special one, Tyr. You
have the potential to be so much more. In fact you are what my kind call an
Esseni. You have always had the possibility and it is now a reality that you
hold within you the essence of War, one of the most potent forces in the
universe.”