said. “But that is one of the three most common regions. And the best I could do at the time was Persian.”
“You wish to know more about the infill ritual,” Germaine said. “I had deduced that. Yes, it is broadly Persian in origin, as well. Probably earlier. Possibly Assyrian. from some of the oldest texts. Give me a moment.”
Why does Germaine…? Barbara mouthed at Sharice. Sharice just looked at her coldly.
“I support your theory, in general,” Germaine said after what seemed a very long fifteen seconds. “I hypothesize thus. First, for Agent Spornberger. Zombies, as you call them, are not originally houdoun. African witch doctors learned the technique from Arab wizards, who learned them from Persian sorcerers. Among the Persians and those regions Persian-influenced, the Hellenistic regions including Judea, the term you may have heard is ‘golem.’”
Barb slapped her forehead lightly and shook her head. “Golems,” she whispered. “Of course.”
Golems! Why’d it have to be golems? Kurt mouthed, rolling his eyes.
“Golems, zombies if you prefer, are known for their anger and violence. That is because they must be fed. And not upon brains, Agent Spornberger. The necromancer must continually fill their…beings with, not the souls of victims, but the power of the soul. Thus, the necromancer must have a continuous supply of sacrificial victims. And golems are quite perfect for gathering them, if you can control one. Or more. Elsbeth Bathory had at least five in her control at one point or another: the origin of the Frankenstein myth.
“If the necromancer does not so supply the golem, the golem turns upon its creator. And as the golems are very hard to kill, absent strong mystical aid, the creator rarely survives. Your golems do not require such a supply. Thus I had, falsely, struck golems from the list of potential phenomena. They do, otherwise, quite resemble them. However, the most ancient known rituals are…quite clearly hacks of some still-older ritual.”
“Hacks?” Kurt said, then clapped his hand over his mouth.
“If one has studied the occult as thoroughly as I have, you know when someone has been copying and pasting bits of other rituals, Agent Spornberger,” Germaine said. “Hacks. I have read your reports. Given that we appear to be dealing with a prehistoric cult that may be tied to the origin of the Stepford and golem rituals…it is possible that they have found the original rituals. How they create the golems, how they create Stepfords or something similar without the necessary sacrifices…shall wait to be determined. I have calls to make, and you have a girls’ school to check out. Carefully. For both mystic and mundane reasons. They are, as you pointed out, tied into a rather wider-based power structure than you are aware. Tread lightly, absent definite indicators.”
“As long as I don’t have to wear a uniform,” Barb said.
“Ooooo…” Kurt muttered.
“Stop right there.”
CHAPTER NINE
It was sunset by the time that they left the safe house, and traffic was heavy on 27 crossing the river.
“I hate commuters,” Barb said, weaving past a slow-moving vehicle in the left lane. She let out a cry, though, as the traffic suddenly slowed to a halt in a sea of brake lights.
Kurt looked over, a tad nervous since her normally terrifying but flawless driving seemed to be less than flawless, and was surprised to see a look of shock on her face. She was staring wide-eyed at the mass of lights.
“Did we forget something really important?” he asked.
“No,” Barb said in a strained voice. “I just forgot to turn off my Sight.”
“Your…what?” Kurt asked.
“Sight,” Barb said pointedly. “Second Sight. Crazy psychic sh-stuff. Ability to see into the other world. I just started getting the, hah-hah, ‘Gift’ of Second Sight before this mission. Never had to deal with it before. I used to not mind going by graveyards. I’d forgotten to push it back after we were in the safe house. Which, by the way, is a really safe house. Which was why I was using it.”
“So…what?” Kurt asked, unhappily. “Demons?”
“Angels,” Barb said, as the traffic started to move again. “Lots and lots and lots of angels spread their wings when the traffic slammed to a halt. Think white light ten times brighter than all the brake lights. Blinding.”
“Seriously?” Kurt asked, peering forward. “It’s just normal evening traffic.”
“To you,” Barb said in an annoyed voice. “In Second Sight it’s cars, people, angels and demons. Lots of angels but plenty of demons as well. In all the readings I did before I got this gig and since, in the list of things about angels, one of the characteristics not listed was being pests. Leave me alone! Yes, I know you’re there! I’ve got a mission to perform! Don’t you?”
“Barb,” Kurt said. “You’re talking to the air.”
“When I reacted I think I started to radiate,” Barb said as a car swerved out of her lane and out of her way. “In fact, now I know I am. All the cars don’t have guardian angels in them. That one got out of my way for another reason.”
“Reason being…?” Kurt said, looking at the Mercedes. The driver was a normal enough looking guy. Lawyer type, one each. On his cell phone, of course.
“Demons,” Barb said. “Lust, greed, envy, a couple I can’t identify. When the angels spread their wings, I sort of let go the cover I was under in surprise. And every demon in the mass wants to get the hell, literally, out of my way. And all the angels who aren’t involved in keeping their charges alive in traffic are swarming over to say hello. Yes, hello, yes, I see you. I’m trying to drive here…Gah. I have got to get this under control.”
“Want me to drive?” Kurt asked. “In fact, I’d really prefer to drive.”
“Once we get off 27, I’ll pull over,” Barb said. “And, yes, until I can get my Sight back under control, you’d better drive.”
“You really see angels and demons?” Kurt asked, looking around. It was bugging him that the consultant “saw” stuff. On one hand, it was making him wonder about her sanity. On the other hand, the whole point of this investigation was making him wonder about his. And the Bureau’s. So far, all he’d really seen was a woman in some kind of coma and what looked like a multinational involved in neurological experiments. There had been a complete lack of visible demons, werewolves or vampires to stake.
“Everywhere,” Barb said. “More than I’ve seen before. I think it has something to do with the traffic. But I dunno. This is all new to me.”
They pulled over after they got on Manufacturers Road and changed places.
“They call it a ‘Gift,’” Barb said as Kurt pulled out. “Capital and quotes. So far it’s just been a royal pain in the patootie.” She closed her eyes and concentrated on closing down and cloaking.
“What do they look like?” Kurt asked.
“Which?” Barb replied.
“Either? Both?”
“Angels look like a bad special effect,” Barb said. “Just sort of clouds of sparkly light. I’m not into science fiction, but I’ve watched a couple of Star Trek episodes. There was one where there was some sort of mist that sucked out people’s blood…?”
“Saw it, too,” Kurt said.
“Sort of like that but more sparkly and whiter,” Barb said. “Except, as it turns out, when they spread their wings. And even then the wings don’t really look like wings. More like gossamer strands of light with white stuff in between. Really bright gossamer strands. I’d never seen them do that before, but I haven’t had my Sight working in traffic before. Demons generally, to me, look snakelike or like black mist. Best I can say. Again, this is all new to me. I was told that angels can fly and demons can’t. Apparently you can sometimes see demons hitching rides on planes, since they need something to travel long distances.”
“You’re joking,” Kurt said.
“It’s what I was told,” Barb said. “I haven’t seen it, but I haven’t traveled on a plane since I got my sight except the Foundation one. And as you can guess, it wasn’t infested.”
“And here we are,” Kurt said, pulling up to the entrance to the school.
“Dang it,” Barb said. “I just got my Sight turned off. Now I have to open it up again.”
“I sort of wish I could see what you see,” Kurt said.
