Infernal Games (Templar Chronicles Urban Fantasy Series) (3 page)

C
ade was in the kitchen, fixing lunch, when
he felt the wards at the edge of his property flare briefly before settling back
down to their normal state. He stepped over to the window and pulled back the
edge of the curtain. A dark, government-looking sedan was making its way up
the long drive toward the house. From this distance Cade couldn’t make out who
was behind the wheel, but he wasn’t particularly worried. Evil of the type he
was used to dealing with rarely made a visit in a plum-colored sedan, though he
recognize that there was always a first time for everything.

Besides, the wards were designed to keep out
anything from the infernal realms, which meant whoever was driving the car had
to be human.

He might have had some difficulty dealing
with a minor demon or two on his own, but humans he could handle.

He stepped to the end of the counter closest
to the door and opened the drawer there, removing the .45 caliber handgun
inside. There was no need to chamber a round; the gun was kept loaded and
cocked at all times.

Cade heard the dull thud of a car door and
then the soft crunch of someone making their way up the snow-covered walk to
the front door.

He opened the door before the newcomer could
knock, the gun held casually in his right hand - there if he needed it but not
overtly threatening. At least it wasn’t intended to be. He wasn’t taking
chances though, not with what he had to protect these days, and he didn’t give
a damn if the other man felt slighted by the weapon’s presence.

He’s coming to my house; here we play by my
rules.

His visitor turned out to be a young man in
his late twenties, dressed in a dark coverall that was decidedly military in
appearance, despite its lack of unit patches or other insignia. His closely
cropped hair and erect bearing added to the illusion. A casual passerby would
register these details and in all likelihood conclude that the young man was
either a member of the military or local law enforcement, which was precisely
what the Order wanted them to believe.

The Order might be good at hiding, but apparently
they didn’t listen too well.

He’d told them he was done. He’d meant it,
too.

Cade didn’t say anything after opening the
door, just stood there with a calm expression on his face, waiting for whatever
it was the other man had come here to tell him.

The messenger cleared his throat. “Knight
Commander Williams?”

He was nervous, that was clear, but whether
it was because he was speaking to a genuine hero of the Order or because he was
standing along on the Heretic’s front porch, Cade couldn’t tell.

Cade remained silent.

“There’s, ah, been an incident, sir.”

Cade frowned. He still had a few friends
among the Order’s ranks, one good one in particular, and he hadn’t heard about
any “incidents.” Of course, the problem could still be unfolding, which would
explain why he hadn’t been forewarned about the messenger’s appearance. The
messenger’s hesitancy told him that whatever he’d come to say wasn’t going to
be good news.

“The Necromancer, Simon Logan, has escaped.”

Outwardly Cade didn’t react to the news, but
inwardly he breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment he’d been convinced
something had happened to Riley.

“Preceptor Johannson is recalling all
formerly active duty personnel with experience in dealing with the Necromancer
to assist in the hunt. I’m here to escort you to the commandery.”

“No.”

It was perhaps the last thing the young
Templar expected to hear and for a moment he could only stand there staring
blankly as he tried to process Cade’s response. Finally, he managed to get out
a mumbled, “Sir?”

Cade chuckled. “I said no. I’m not going to
the commandery with you, nor am I getting involved in a hunt for the Necromancer.”

Cade watched, privately amused, as the other
man processed what he’d just heard. Apparently, his devotion to duty overcame
his good sense, for after a moment he tried again.

“Perhaps I’m not being clear...” the messenger
began, but Cade cut him off by stepping out onto the porch, forcing him back
and away from the door in the process.

“I understood you just fine, son,” Cade said,
the gun in his hand now clearly in view to his visitor. “Now do us both a
favor and get off my land before we have an ‘incident’ of our own.”

The young man opened his mouth to say
something, glanced at the gun in Cade’s hand, and apparently thought better of
it. Without taking his eyes off Cade he backed over to the porch steps and
then turned and hurried back to his car. Cade had no doubt that the rumors
would be flying fast and heavy within minutes of the messenger’s return to the
commandery, but that didn’t bother Cade at all. Rumors had followed him most
of his time in the Order; sometimes, they were even true.

What’s one more story to add to the Heretic
legend?

Cade watched from the porch until the other
man had driven out of sight around the bend at the far end of the road. Then,
and only then, did he step back inside the house.

Word of Logan’s escape gave him more than a
little bit of concern and so he slipped the handgun into the waistband of his
jeans at the small of his back rather than return it to its place in the
kitchen drawer. He had other weapons stashed about the house, at least one in
every room in fact, but he felt better having one right at hand should he need
it. Who knew, those few seconds might make all the difference.

He stepped over to the stove to check on the
soup he’d been preparing just prior to the messenger’s arrival. A quick taste
told him that it was ready and he spent a few minutes preparing a tray to take
upstairs, adding a glass of water and a rose from the bouquet on the table to
the bowl of tomato soup that he set down in the center. Grabbing a spoon from
the drawer and a napkin from the holder on the table, he lifted the tray and
headed up the stairs.

“Lunch time,” he called softly as he neared
the bedroom at the end of the hall and then eased the door open with his foot.

Across the room, seated in front of the
window looking out at the snow falling gently in the backyard, was his wife,
Gabrielle.

“The snow’s beautiful, isn’t it, love?” Cade
said, as he walked across the room and set the tray down on the card table he
set up earlier for just that purpose.

Gabrielle didn’t answer.

Cade sat down in the chair opposite Gabrielle’s
and pulled the card table over between them. Picking up the napkin in one hand
and the spoon in the other, he smiled at his wife as he said, “I’ve brought you
some lunch. It’s your favorite, tomato soup.”

Gabrielle did not turn away from the window.
Did not, in fact, acknowledge Cade was even present in the room.

Cade pretended not to notice. He scooped up
a little of the soup with the spoon and brought the utensil closer to
Gabrielle’s mouth.

“Here you are. Open wide now. That’s my
girl.”

Gabrielle’s mouth opened slightly as the
spoon drew closer and Cade slipped the food deftly between her lips, catching
the little that dribbled out the side with the napkin in his other hand.

“That’s it. One bite at a time.”

Little by little, spoonful by spoonful, Cade
Williams fed his once-dead wife.

Years before, when Cade had been an officer
with the Boston Police Department, he and his wife had been attacked in their
own home by a serial killer he’d been hunting known as the Dorchester Slasher.
The killer wanted to talk, to gloat, but Cade had dealt with enough men like
him to know that things would only end badly if he gave in to the maniac’s
demands. Instead, he’d drawn his weapon and put a bullet through the killer’s
forehead. His swift action had saved both their lives.

Until the thing living inside the killer’s
body broke free and attacked them in turn.

Gabrielle had been killed in the first few
moments of the attack, or so Cade thought. It wasn’t until years later, after
he’d discovered that the creature he’d known as the Adversary was, in fact, the
fallen angel Asharael, that Cade learned his wife was not quite dead, her body
held in some kind of arcane stasis and her soul a captive of the Adversary deep
in the heart of the Beyond. It was then that Cade had taken the fight to the
enemy, had tracked the fallen angel to its lair on the Isle of Sorrows in the
middle of the Sea of Lamentations, and, with the help of his friends and fellow
Templars, Matthew Riley and Sean Duncan, had slain the infernal creature and
set Gabrielle’s soul free.

It had been Cade’s fervent hope that when he
returned to the world of the living he would find his wife alive and well, her
soul restored to its rightful place inside her now breathing body.

But it was not to be.

Instead, he’d returned to find her as she was
now, a barely responsive shell of her former self. Her body functioned as it
normally should – she ate, drank, slept, and the like – but there didn’t seem
to be anyone home. The spirit that had animated her, the very thing that had
made her who she was, seemed to be missing and Cade had no idea how to find it.

Ever since the night he’d returned he had
been caring for her as one might an invalid; feeding her, bathing her, helping
her with her bodily functions. While she slept he continued his research, searching
for a solution to the problem at hand. What the Adversary had taken away, Cade
was determined to restore and he would not rest until his wife laughed and cried
and spoke his name again.

Gabrielle’s presence here was the reason he’d
turned the Preceptor’s messenger away. He didn’t have time for the
distractions of the Order, no matter how much he might miss the rush of action
or the companionship of his team members. Gabrielle had to come first.

When he was done feeding her, he put the soup
dish back on the tray beside him and picked up the copy of A Tale of Two Cities
that he had brought up from the library earlier. Dickens had always been one
of her favorites. They had recently finished Oliver Twist and Cade was eager
to begin this new volume. Maybe the familiar cadences of the story would be
the thing to start to bring her back to him...

Cade opened up the book and turned to the
first page.

“It was the best of times, it was the worst
of times.”

––––––––

L
ater
that morning.

Riley
was standing in the Preceptor’s office at the Bristol, Rhode Island commandery,
having just finished delivering his initial report on the Necromancer’s escape,
when the door opened and the Preceptor’s aide, Hennessy, hurried into the
room.

Hennessey
didn’t even bother to look and acknowledge Riley’s presence, just rushed over
to the Preceptor’s side and bent to whisper in the man’s ear. Whatever news he
carried, it couldn’t have been good, for Riley watched as the older man’s face
turned an unusual shade of red as his anger got the better of him.

“How
dare he!” the Preceptor exclaimed, then turned his angry visage in Riley’s
direction. “Did you put him up to this? Just what in heaven’s name does he
think he is doing?”

Riley
stared at the Preceptor, nonplussed, and then calmly said, “If I had any idea
who or what you were referring to, I might be able to answer your questions
completely.”

Johannson
threw his hands up in fury. “That bastard Williams, that’s who!” he shouted,
spittle flying from his mouth. “He refused his reactivation order and
threatened the life of the man I sent to deliver it. Just who in heaven’s name
does he think he is?”

Refused
his reactivation order?
For a second Riley had no idea what the Preceptor
was talking about and then it dawned on him. Johannson must have tried to call
Cade back to active duty on some pretense or other to get him to hunt down the
Necromancer. In an odd way, it even made sense; Cade was the man who had hunted
down and then captured Simon Logan in the first place. If anyone knew how
Logan thought, it would be Cade. Then the irony of the situation hit Riley
full bore and he had to work to keep the smirk off his face. Johannson himself
had been the one to drum Cade out of the Order. It wasn’t surprising, at least
not to Riley, that Cade had basically told Johannson to stick it when he’d been
ordered back to duty.

He
coughed to cover his amusement and then said, “I find it hard to imagine Knight
Commander Williams threatening a messenger.”

Johannson
glared at him. “Are you calling me a liar?”

Damn
right I am,
Riley thought, but what he said was, “Of course not, sir. I’m
just suggesting that there might have been some miscommunication between Knight
Commander Williams and the messenger you sent to speak to him.”

The
Preceptor would have none of it, however. “Miscommunication my ass, Captain.
He did it deliberately and I guarantee that he’ll regret it when I haul his ass
before the Seneschal for a disciplinary hearing!”

Riley
chose not to point out that it would be hard to call a disciplinary hearing
against a man who was no longer part of the Order and therefore not subject to
its discipline.
Nothing like giving the idiot an opportunity to embarrass
himself further.

“Is
there anything else, Preceptor?”

Johannson
took a moment to visibly calm himself before answering. “I’m formally
assigning Echo as the point team for tracking down the escaped prisoner and
returning him to custody. I want regular email updates on your progress and
expect you to make some headway rather quickly, Captain. Do I make myself
clear?”

“Crystal,
sir,” he replied dryly.

The
Preceptor didn’t seem to notice his tone.

“Excellent!”
Johannson said. “Bennington has sent a courier with the blood and DNA samples
taken when Logan was first admitted; they should be here within the hour. I’ve
ordered a scrying ceremony to take place as soon as they arrive and expect you
to have your team briefed and ready to go as soon as the ritual is concluded
and the Necromancer’s location known. That will be all.”

Riley
nodded to show he understood, then turned and left the room before he said
something he might regret. The man’s pompous nature always got under his skin.
He understood now why Cade had always avoided the headquarters commandery as
often as he could, preferring to spend time at Ravensgate in Westport instead.
Of course, that had been when the Echo Team leader reported directly to the
Seneschal at the Order’s headquarters in Scotland rather than to the North
American Preceptor.

Oh,
how the times had changed.

Riley grabbed a passing initiate, discovered
he wasn’t doing anything important, and sent him on deliver a message to the
other Echo Team members that there would be a briefing in an hour in the east
wing second floor conference room. All those who were on assigned duty were
expected to attend. Riley had the initiate repeat the message back to him to
ensure that he’d gotten it right and then sent the young man on his way.

As
he made his own leisurely way toward the conference room he’d commandeered for
his meeting, Riley’s thoughts turned to his friend, Cade. He’d told the
Preceptor the truth; he didn’t believe that Cade had outright threatened the
initiate the Preceptor had sent to deliver the reactivation order, but he couldn’t
deny that his longtime commander had grown sullen and withdrawn in the wake of
their defeat of the Adversary and their return from the Beyond. Hell, he was
Cade’s friend and he didn’t think he’d seen the man more than two or three
times in the last two months, if that.

They’d
never really talked about what had happened over there. He remembered the
Adversary taking over his body, forcing him to fight against his friend and
fellow squad member, Sean Duncan. He remembered how he’d screamed in rage and
fear as his body had refused to obey his commands, as he’d watched his hands
plunge his blade into Duncan’s chest. He remembered the pain he’d felt when
Duncan had stabbed him in the throat with his combat knife. After that things
got a little hazy.

Because
the two of them were still alive, he knew that Cade had defeated the Adversary,
but they’d never discussed the details. By the time Riley had recovered enough
to leave the hospital, Cade had flown home and faced what could only be called
a behind-the-scenes court martial. His forced retirement had caused him to
pull away from Riley as well; Cade not wanting to taint the other man with his
own supposed sins. The Order had made a point of keeping Riley busy as well,
which further worked to isolate them. When he thought about it, it almost
seemed to Riley that their separation was intentional, but he didn’t know if
that was the Order’s doing or Cade’s.

‘
Bout
time you found out, isn’t it?

He
had to agree that it was, he answered himself.

The
one time he’d gone looking for information about that final confrontation in
the Beyond, he’d discovered that the after-action report had been sealed by
none other than the Seneschal himself. Riley had been there, had been involved
in the actual battle, and not even he was cleared to read it.

Riley
didn’t like it but there was little he could do about it. At least the
Necromancer’s escape would bring Cade back into the fold where he belonged;
Riley didn’t think he could stay away knowing a man like Simon Logan was on the
run again.

And
maybe when Cade does, things can get back to normal around here.

––––––––

A
short while later Riley stood at the front of the conference room and looked
out at the twelve men assembled there.

Echo
Team was made up of four squads of four men each, plus Riley’s personal command
squad, bringing the total to sixteen. Baker and the rest of the men from 3
^rd
Squad were on assignment somewhere in Kentucky which accounted for the missing
men. Most of the men were veterans; many had served in Echo under Knight
Commander Williams and had been a part of the operation to bring the
Necromancer to heel the first time around.

When
Riley had assumed command of Echo, he had made some personnel choices that had
necessitated moving men from one squad to another. Manny Ortega and Jimmy
Martinez had both been promoted to the command squad, leaving the First Squad
without a commander. Riley had solved that by promoting Corporal Stevens,
Second Squad’s second in command, to Sergeant and moving him over to run
First. Empty slots in both squads had then been filled with the top men out of
the latest training class to come back from Scotland.

Riley
got down to business.

“All
right, listen up.” He waited for the scuttlebutt to quiet down, then
continued. “As some of you know, we had an escape from the Bennington
Containment Facility last night. Simon Logan, former leader of the Council of
Nine, aka the Necromancer, somehow managed to overcome the men assigned to his
transport crew and escape while enroute to the lockdown facility at Longport.
Echo’s been given the job of hunting him down and returning him to the fine accommodations
awaiting him at Longport.”

Given
that Longport was the most secure of all the Templar containment facilities,
otherwise known as maximum security prisons, the men chuckled appreciatively at
Riley’s joke.

“Some
of you were with Knight Commander Williams and I when we assaulted the
Necromancer’s stronghold in Louisiana and understand what we are up against.
For the rest of you, Logan is the individual directly responsible for the
attacks on both the Ravensgate and Templeton commanderies earlier this year.”

Never
mind subverting the loyalty of the Preceptor’s personal aide de camp and
stealing the Spear of Longinus, one of Christianity’s most powerful artifacts,
right out from under our noses
, Riley thought. Knowledge of those events
was still highly classified, however, which was why Riley kept the information
to himself.

“The
Necromancer’s powers extend far beyond what most of you are accustomed to
dealing with, so understand that this isn’t going to be an easy one. You’ve
all been provided with a dossier detailing exactly what we know about the man
and his abilities; I expect you to have it committed to memory by 1600 hours.”

He
glanced around, trying to gauge the mood of those in the room. Here and there
he saw a concerned expression, mainly on the faces of Echo’s new recruits, but
the rest of the men seemed to be taking it all in stride without a problem,
which was no more than he expected. These men had seen combat in all its
different forms, had come face to face with some of the most horrifying
creatures known to man, from hordes of revenants fresh out of the grave to
major demons summoned from the fires of Hell itself, and did so without
hesitation or fail. They were humanity’s first and last line of defense
against the things that hunted him in the dark. Recapturing the Necromancer was
just another mission in a long line of such missions stretching back to the
earliest days of the Order’s existence. They would stand in the gap and
protect their fellow man because there was no one else to do so; it was that
simple.

Riley
spent some time detailing what they had learned from the crash site, which
admittedly wasn’t much, let them know that they would be heading out as soon as
the scrying team had managed to pinpoint the Necromancer’s location, and then
dismissed them to see to their weapons and equipment.

Until
the scrying team did their job, there wasn’t anything more to be done.