The Lucifer Messiah (37 page)

Instead he extended a greeting.

“I thought we might not see you again, but I am pleased to be proven wrong,” Argus began. “A penchant for memorable entrances, undiminished by the years. But I must confess that your appearance this time perplexes even me.”

Though the exigency of their circumstances did not lend themselves much to conversation, Sean obliged the old being with a reply.

“No mystery. I saw what happened to Arachne. I made my way into the crowd. When Charybdis was lowered, I set her loose and took her place. Not so hard among that mob. In their frenzy most can barely see straight,” Sean answered.

“I understand. Then you must have realized by now that you are indeed Lucifer, as I have always said. Will you bring an end to this foolishness? Take your place among us, once and for all?”

This time Sean did not answer. Instead, he turned the use of his unnatural hands to work. He snapped the chains that bound Argus to the dais floor with little effort. Then he moved to Vince and Maggie.

Vince did not hold his tongue. “Sean, what the hell are you … ?”

Sean did not let him finish.

“Forget it Vince. Do what I say and this will all be over for you soon.”

He broke the chains around Maggie's wrists; delicately, though. She was ashen pale, and sweating. The wound inflicted by Anubis had gone untreated for almost eight hours. She had nearly bled out.

Once she was free, Vince pushed past his old friend to kneel beside her. He lifted her head and tried to wake her. She hardly responded. A groggy nod was her only reply.

“Goddamn you, Sean, what the hell did you do?” he shouted, bracing to make a run at the trickster. Argus placed a stringy white arm in his path before he could move, however. He offered the angry man a succinct admonition.

“I wouldn't,” the very old changeling counseled.

Across the dais, Scylla and Charybdis whirled their sabers
with the poise of practiced masters. As swordsmen, they had no equal, for the two former guardians wielded the blades with the acumen of centuries.

But their foe was a measure beyond the need for such skills, and the Morrigan parried their every thrust. The Keeper turned back blow after careful blow, her own hands mutated into scythes every bit as deadly as the Maenad steel of her adversaries.

Several of the torches and ritual braziers had already toppled from the fight. The embers had set fire to the cloaks of the dead Maenads. Their corpses now burned atop the platform, almost-human bonfires to light the battle of three very inhuman combatants.

The flames spread as the trio continued their artful, murderous fencing. Down from the dais, the tapestries and cloaks of the crowded floor caught fire. Black smoke flooded the narcotic-tinged air.

“Look, Scylla and Charybdis battle the Keeper, but they will not hold against her for long, you know that. Only one of the Morrigan's own kind can truly put an end to her,” Argus urged. “Fulfill the prophecy, Sean. It is time for Lucifer to be reborn.”

Sean did not look up to the fight on the dais. His eyes were dead set on Argus. His face betrayed nothing but contempt.

“It was you in Venice, wasn't it?” he said.

“What are you talking about?” Argus answered, taken aback. He had not expected such a question, especially not given their predicament.

“You shouldn't have known about that, about the girl I lost there that night. I killed all of the men sent to capture me, and I didn't tell anyone of the details until I got to New York. But you knew. Were you there, watching me butcher your servants, too cowardly to step into the light yourself?”

Argus attempted a denial. Sean silenced him before he could finish.

“Enough lies. When I first came to you in the cathedral, you spoke of it. I had assumed the Morrigan to be responsible, but that was what you wanted me to believe. You wanted me to blame her, to hate her as much as you do. You needed me to. After all, you couldn't very well expect me to join your crusade knowing that your people nearly killed the only other woman I've ever loved.”

Argus waved his arms, nervously, but with an air of urgency. “This isn't the time for recriminations, Lucifer. We can deal with these issues later, but now you must act. You must strike at the Morrigan.”

Sean remained unmoved.

“Why? For your benefit? So you can rule the loyal flock through me?”

Argus feigned an indignant glare.

“I never said I wanted that.”

“But that's what you were after. We both know that.”

“I only wanted what was best for us all, you included.” Finally, the trickster looked over at the ongoing fight.
The Morrigan was winning. Scylla and Charybdis would not last much longer. He raised his own hands, fists clenched.

“Save it. There's no need.”

“So now you'll have your vengeance, I expect,” Argus said, resigned to his fate.

“What's done is done. By whatever way we have come here, this is where it will end,” Sean answered.

He turned to Vince, still knelt over Maggie, who was barely conscious on the ground. The fire on the floor had spread to the tapestries and nets slung all about the rafters. The hungry crackle of flame joined the cries of the revelers. It was almost too loud to think.

“Vince, you have to go,” he said.

The ex-cop didn't even look up.

“Not without her,” he said.

Sean lowered himself to eye level with his old friend. He placed a hand on Vince's shoulder. Despite the noise, and all that had gone on between them, his voice was somehow calm—and eerily reassuring.

“Her ribs are cracked. Her lung has probably been punctured. She's lost too much blood. There's no way she can stand up, let alone walk. If we move her in this condition, she'll die. You have to leave her.”

“Not a chance. Not again. If she dies here, I'll die with her.” He meant what he said. There was a tear on his cheek. He had no intention of leaving his wife.

But Sean did not waver.

“Vince, look at me. She's not gonna die. You two are
both gonna make it, but you have to let me do what needs to be done here. Trust me one last time buddy. I promise. Do as I say and we'll all …” His voice faded in the noise.

“What?” Vince demanded.

Sean stared back at him for a long while, almost too long considering the situation. Finally he smiled in a way that Vince hadn't seen from Sean since their childhood.

“And we'll all get what we want.”

Somehow, that answer seemed like enough. Vince stood up, grabbed Sean by the arm and stared him down. He didn't say a word. The expression on his face told Sean he would agree.

Then the trickster turned to Argus.

“See that he gets away safely, and you'll leave here free of the Morrigan forever.”

“You're going to do it then?” Argus asked.

Sean shook his head. “No. You don't need me. You'll have what you came for, Argus. After all these years. Lead those who wish to follow, and leave everyone else free to find their own way.”

“What will you do?” Argus asked.

“It would appear that my road will end here. Right where it began, of all places.”

C
HARYBDIS WAS HOLDING TWO SWORDS.
O
NE SHORT.
One long. She twirled them like deadly batons, her eyes locked on the Keeper. Scylla fell, knocked across the dais by a strike from the Morrigan's hand. She struggled to get back to her feet.

The Keeper was outlasting them. Blood streamed from the shoulder wounds where Charybdis had been hung. The stress of combat had opened the slash across Scylla's gut. It surged red from under the bandages.

The Morrigan showed no sign of harm. No sign of slowing. Her ephemeral form shifted like the clouds of smoke churning through the roof beams. Even the two most skilled of her flock could not strike her.

Scylla charged, her blade held like a lance. The Morrigan's hand met the blow in the shape of a scythe. At the moment of impact her flesh melted into a hand, grasping the saber and heaving its owner into the air.

Charybdis leapt toward her as her back turned. But the Keeper spun around. She swatted down the white-lady, her other arm having taken on the form of grizzly's paw.

Scylla, undaunted, rose up and made her charge a second time. The Morrigan neither turned, nor moved to avoid it. But when Scylla made contact, her steel met only an empty cloak. The body of the queen had liquefied, leaving only the shroud behind.

Though she tried to regain her bearings, the Morrigan was faster. Her shape reconstituted itself from under her very feet. The force of it lifted her and tossed her aside like a doll.

Though it seemed futile, Charybdis rushed again. The thrust of her broadsword cut the heated air. Her blade met only the clang of another deft parry. Wheeling without pause, she shifted her weight and swung the heavy weapon anew. Again it was stopped in mid stroke, and again there came a counterblow that threw her back.

Graceful, despite her still-healing gash, Scylla slipped behind the dark goddess. She planted her legs for a body blow.

But the Morrigan could not be struck easily. Her body shifted like a wind-blown sapling just as Scylla launched herself. The bronze-skinned warrior-woman tumbled to the edge of the platform, falling into the frenzied crowd beneath.

Her shape re-formed a moment later, but Charybdis jumped off from the dais before she could reach her. On the floor of the warehouse, she found Scylla under attack by three Maenads. One's cloak was burning as she wore it. Charybdis came to her lover's aid, slashing the three servants dead. Then both looked up and saw the approach of their former ruler.

The Changeling Queen stalked her foes. She floated down from the dais as a malevolent raven, coming to rest with the softness of a feather. All in her way parted to allow her to land. The twin guardians were huddled together, their backs pressed against the wall of the platform.

The fire raged. Cinders and embers sweltered across the warehouse floor. The Morrigan ignored it all. She approached the two with her hands open.

Crazed revelers scampered everywhere. Among the smoke and flames their fury was fueled more by fear and confusion than by the bacchanalian frenzy that had set them into motion. Even in their stupor, each gave the Morrigan a wide berth.

That was why she never saw the figure that crept up in her shadow. Someone whispered a hint, but it was too faint. By the time the Morrigan realized that someone near her had said Lucifer, she tried to turn. She only sensed Sean's presence when the trickster's hands made contact with her throat.

By then it was too late.

“You've come for me, finally. I knew you would,” the Keeper said.

Her hands reached up to seize Sean's wrists.

“I don't give a shit about you,” Sean answered. “But there's no other way.”

“You can't defeat me. You're not strong enough. I will absorb you.”

Sean smiled.

“I know,” he said.

His hands had lost their human appearance. His pliable flesh was beginning to merge with the Morrigan's. The Keeper answered with a grin. She mutated her own hands. Her fingers melted into Sean's arms.

Two were becoming one.

The Morrigan's laugh blended with Sean's. Sean's wail fused with the screams of the Morrigan. As the warehouse burned around them, and the astonished revelers looked on, Lucifer and the Morrigan came together. They joined into a single, terrible creature.

The union was not peaceful.

As their flesh congealed, two changelings merged into one, a fury raged under boiling skin. The grotesqueries of a dozen different creatures, some real and some only imagined, sprang out of the joining. Limbs and tails and other things twisted and whirled. Cries and howls in myriad voices rang out.

The beast battled itself.

Within, all that had been Sean Mulcahy, his thoughts, his memories, and his desires, flooded the mind of what had been the Morrigan. In return, all of the Keeper's five centuries flowed out of her.