Mathieu (25 page)

“I know.” Mathieu held himself tighter. “I know,” he repeated as he closed his eyes and slumped back to the cold earth.

“I was just saying that the circle was pretty.” Dwayne’s expression suddenly sharpened as Mathieu almost imperceptibly winced at the
word.
“Not that you were. Even if you are, which you aren’t, you’re not my type. Not enough up here,” Dwayne gestured to his chest, “and too much down there.” Another gesture, this time towards his crotch.

“You have no clue how relieved I am to know that.” Mathieu took another deep breath before allowing his arms to relax. He automatically checked the circle to be sure no damage had befallen it.

Dwayne’s expression was still sharp. “I think I have a clue. I don’t know if I wanted to, but I’m pretty sure I have one now. Do you really think you’re going to be able to pull off whatever the hell it is you’re going to do without freaking the fuck out?”

Mathieu looked away. “Do I have a choice? Really?”

After a long moment Dwayne spoke again, avoiding the question. “So, where do you need the other circles?”

Straightening, Mathieu indicated a space four feet from the one he had just made. “There should be one here. And then one around the perimeter of the room.” He paused and then spoke again. “That one should be the strongest you can make, something that won’t come undone or mar if you have to run over it to get out of the room quickly.”

Dwayne narrowed his eyes. “If we come out of this alive, I am so going to kick your ass for doing this to me. Kick your ass in a completely non-physical and symbolic manner, of course. I’m not into that kinky shit.”

“Of course,” Mathieu echoed, his lips turning upwards in a wry smile despite his best efforts to hold them down. “I understand completely.”

“As for the rest of it, I’m your man. In a totally platonic way.” Dwayne grinned at Mathieu’s raised eyebrow. Wandering over to an old tackle box in the corner, he pulled out three items: a roll of dull silver tape, a pen and a razor knife. “Duct tape and Sharpie. Once it dries, a nuclear explosion couldn’t take a circle made with these puppies down.”

“Duct tape and Sharpie,” Mathieu echoed, shaking his head.

“
Duct tape and Sharpie. It may be all kinds of Redneck but it works.” Dwayne gestured towards the wall as he brandished his roll of tape and the knife. “Help me draw the circle and I’ll cut the tape to make it go around.”

Mathieu shook his head again before moving to help the man he might have called ‘friend’ in a previous life protect those whom he might have called ‘dear’ in that same time.

C
hapter Thirty - Five

It was deathly still in the room. Mathieu stood in between the first and second circle and looked at those in the room with him.

They were all tired, worn thin with the lack of sleep and stress. His suggestion that they rest before attempting this had been met with a derisive hand gesture from Marcus.

“Another hour is how many more years for her? I don’t think so. We can sleep when she’s home,” he’d said.

Mathieu had had no choice but to shrug. “So be it,” he’d said as the others took their place. “Better for me so I don’t lose my nerve in the interim,” he continued under his breath.

Marcus stood at the north Cardinal of the first circle, a pillar of brute strength. Jenn, she of the subtle power, was at the south. Eddie and Susan were east and west, shining opposites of hot and cold. Dwayne and Carol waited outside the second circle, supporting the framework with skill and power.

Hugh waited beside the door, the circle to enslave his daughter scratched into the hall floor.

The skin on the back of Mathieu’s neck crawled as the group began to power the circle. He could see the sigils of the spell start to glow, one after the other. Balling his fists, he forced his breathing to settle into a slow, steady rhythm.

“We summon you, Gaap. We summon you to us, to our world, to our time, to our reality. We summon you, Gaap.” Marcus intoned the words in a flat drone, his efforts bent on forcing as much power into spell as possible.

“
We bind you, Gaap. We bind you to our circle, to our purpose, to our mission. We bind you, Gaap.” Jenn intoned after Marcus finished.

“We call you, Gaap. We call you from the darkness and cold, to come to us here. We call you, Gaap.” Eddie spoke in the same monotone as Marcus.

“We compel you, Gaap. We compel you to come forth and serve us. We compel you, Gaap.” Susan finished the incantation with a deep sigh.

Mathieu frowned as the air in the center of the circle shimmered and roiled. Gaap was fighting the call. With a grim expression, Mathieu stepped forward and gingerly put the toe of his shoe on the border of the circle and directed a small trickle of power into the spell. “I call you, Gaap. I call you to come forth and treat with us. I call you in the name of the eternal and the darkness and the chaos that you hold so very dear.”

The darkness within clenched in his stomach and then strained against his will, trying to push through the small opening he’d made.
Not yet. Not yet. Soon,
he promised it.

The center of the circle seemed to thicken into a mist and then into a dense fog, finally coalescing into two figures.

Matheiu frowned as he studied the first of the two figures.

Gadreel had favored a completely human appearance, even if it was of a human too beautiful to be real. Gaap’s chosen form looked to follow most of those basic rules-- tall and striking, narrow-hipped, elegant, chiseled features and long, dark hair—but there were obvious differences. The eyes were silvered like a night-hunting predator’s, and there was a pattern of scales—or maybe tightly held feathers—that traced its skin.

Jenn gasped from the south cardinal and Mathieu glanced over to her and followed her gaze to the girl who must have been Amanda. Or what was left of her.

While
Gadreel had been very conscious of Mathieu’s appearance, often saying that Mathieu reflected on him and gave him status through his beauty, it was fairly obvious that Gaap did not follow that school of thought in the least bit.

Amanda’s clothes hung from her emaciated frame in tatters, the occasional blood stain brown and crusted here and there. The skin not covered with rags was covered with bruises or more dried blood. Mathieu squinted and cocked his head as he tried to make sense of a mottled discoloration that appeared to cover her entire body.

The physical damage was nothing compared to her eyes, though. Mathieu grimaced as he looked into them. They were still blue, but they were as flat and as dead as a corpse’s. No light penetrated them, no shine covered them and no soul looked out from them. There was no life at all in her eyes, and her posture was that of a marionette hanging limply from its strings. It was disturbingly familiar. Mathieu chewed his lower lip as he looked at her, his fists tightening as he fought to keep his hands from shaking.

Gaap looked around the basement, upper lip curled in distaste. It then looked at Marcus and asked, “Well?”

“Well?” Marcus repeated the word hesitantly, taken by surprise.

The strange scales on Gaap’s skin fluttered and then laid flat. “Well,” it repeated. “You called me back to this vile place. You’re on the main cardinal, so you’re in charge. What do you want?” Its voice was edged with irritation. “I suggest you proceed carefully, mortal.”

“Want?” Marcus played the idiot well. He’d almost fooled Mathieu the first time they’d met, after all. “I want lots of things. What can you give me?”

“A quick death. If I wished to, but I don’t.” Gaap reached out and touched the edge of the circle. Invisible before, the edge flared to life as the Demon tried to pass through, the barrier glowing and sparking around its hand. “Long and excruciating is preferable to me, if you would like honesty in such matters.”

“
Honesty really isn’t what I want.” Marcus kept talking while Mathieu eased over towards the south cardinal, closer to Jenn—and Amanda. Gaap glanced his direction once and then returned its attention to Marcus. “I want…” Marcus paused, brow furrowed in thought, “a pony. Yes, definitely a pony.”

“A pony,” it replied, enunciating every sound. “You called me here to ask for a pony?” The scales lifted and flared again, this time lying down even tighter than before. Gaap exuded displeasure from every pore.

“Well, not really. But then I thought to myself, ‘Self, you’ve always wanted a pony, so why not ask for one now?’” Marcus was babbling as Mathieu drew within a few feet of what was left of Amanda. Watching from the corner of his eye, he saw Mathieu pause to control his trembling before continuing forward. It appeared that it was taking everything the former Familiar had to stay in the room, much less participate in a rescue effort. Focusing forward, Marcus smiled sweetly at the Demon and winked.

“Why not,” Gaap repeated in an incredulous tone of voice. “I could give you many reasons ‘why not’, you realize? Most of them end with all of you and your circle enjoying various degrees of agony and death. Or maybe I should say most of them end with my enjoying your various degrees of agony and death.” Gaap touched the edge of the circle again, pressing against the barrier and watching as the glowing edge stretched forward and then pushed its hand back. The circle held but Mathieu’s nerves screamed in pain as the limits of his spell were tested. Gaap was
strong
. Very strong.

Mathieu finally made his way to Amanda, facing her through the barrier that barely kept Gaap from roaring into the basement and killing them all. He could now see what he thought was mottled skin actually were hundreds of tiny, raw bites that covered her entire body.

He glanced over to Gaap and considered the possibilities of what might have caused such wounds for a long moment, his bowels turning to water with fear.
There is no turning back now.
Eyes wide with terror,
he
glanced over to the door and saw Hugh blocking the exit. He took the fear and pushed it down as far as it would go with a deep breath, and then made a hand gesture. A corner of his mind noted his hand only shook a little. Surely that was a good sign?

“Well, maybe not a pony. Too much poop and I’ve been told they’re a lot of work. Maybe a Porsche?” Marcus caught the hand signal, nodded and then stepped behind the second circle, motioning the rest of his group to follow suit—all of them being extremely careful to not mar the protective circle as they stepped over it. “How about our friend back instead, you murdering bastard?” The last words were spit out with venom.

Mathieu took a deep breath and stepped backwards as well, but not over the circle. Instead he carefully placed his heel on the south cardinal. The power in his gut rejoiced as he released a small amount to raise the barrier in front of Marcus’ group, effectively locking them away from Gaap. And him.

The power flew from him and the symbols in the protective circle lit up in quick succession. The air grew quiet and still between the two protective barriers, quiet enough that Mathieu could hear his heart thudding in his chest and the sound of his rasping breath in his ears. He was utterly and completely alone, with no hope of rescue.

So far, so good.

Gaap whirled and looked at Mathieu, cold eyes seeming to see through all of his machinations, from the slight quiver of the hands to the goose bumps on his arms. “So,” it said after a moment.

“So.” Mathieu took a deep breath and made an effort to not soil himself in fear. “Now we can speak undisturbed.” That same detached corner of his mind noted that while his innermost self gibbered in panic, his outside voice was very even and calm.

“Indeed?”

Mathieu could see Marcus over Gaap’s shoulder. The circle leader was watching with a slowly dawning expression of understanding. He
caught
Mathieu’s eyes and shook his head violently. Mathieu looked away, directing his attention back the Demon in the circle.

Gaap glanced at Marcus and then back to Mathieu. “I certainly hope you aren’t going to ask me for a pony.” It had a dry voice

“I want you to release the girl” said Mathieu, cocking his head towards what was left of Amanda. “Give her back to her people.”

“You want me to release the girl.” Gaap repeated the words mockingly. “You want me give her back. You want me to release the vessel in which I’ve stored my power and memories after I was held prisoner in this very room for so long with no hope of escape? After I’ve worked so hard to make her exactly as I needed and to regain all I’d lost?” It cocked its head at him and asked in that same sing-song voice of derision, “What could you possibly give me so that I would be willing to forgo her company?”

Mathieu extended his arms and let the power go. “Me.”

Marcus let out a surprised shout from his side of the circle. “Not this way. Don’t do it this way, damn it.” He punched the circle wall and recoiled as it repulsed him. “Get this thing down! Bring it down now!” The others stood for a moment in shock before scrambling to do his bidding.

They’d wrought entirely too well, Mathieu knew. They were the best the Foundation had and had built their strongest circle--and would be unable to breach it or interfere until it was too late. He refused to look at the others who gestured through the rippling barrier of light. Then the power came up and swept his attention away and back to the subject at hand.

The darkness flowed and prowled and leapt as it tried to free itself from the containment between the two circles. The barriers flared and darkened as it searched for some way out, some pinprick of an opening, but to no avail.

Mathieu thought in that back corner of his mind that the pleasure that came from the sensation of freeing what was inside might have been as good as bedding a woman, or even better—if what his brother
had
said of the act ages ago was true. It probably was—Martin was seldom given to exaggeration on such things.

Gaap watched the power flow down Mathieu’s fingertips and across the floor, the scales puffing up so that the Demon resembled a cold parakeet. The power was heady, intoxicating and wanted Mathieu to laugh at the visual. He might actually have if he hadn’t glimpsed something white and glistening hiding beneath those scales.