The page showed a towering figure of truly demonic proportions. He stood head and shoulders above the humans who fought in vain against him. They stood on a bare hillock beneath a blazing red sun. Fulaghar wielded a mighty double-bitted battle-ax. The blades ran crimson with blood, and ropes of it stained the white sand beneath the demon’s feet.
Fulaghar had wings and a crown of horns that stood straight as spears a foot above his head. His visage was grim, not truly human as it had been when it had borrowed the First Seer’s face back in the Cabalist lair. Mottled green andyellow scales covered him from head to cloven hoof. The scales were deeper green toward the center of his body and grew gradually more yellow as they flared out to his limbs. Scars stood out on his body and created a map of past battles. A belt of human skulls ringed his waist.
As Warren watched, the battle came to life. Fulaghar couldn’t be stopped andwas totally merciless in his attack. The screams of dying and wounded men filled Warren’s ears, punctuated by the ring and rasp of steel on steel.
The demon looked impossible to kill.
“Fulaghar can be destroyed,” the book said. As it spoke, the moving figureson the page came to a stop.
“How?”
“All you have to know is his name.”
“That can’t kill him.” Warren didn’t believe that for a moment. The demonswere too ferocious and too hard to kill. He had seen lesser demons destroy the armored knights that he sometimes saw in the city trying to save survivors.
“Knowing his name makes him vulnerable. The demons have other weaknesses, butthis is one that I can give you.”
“You know Fulaghar’s true name?” Warren didn’t dare hope, but some part ofthat emotion took root within him anyway.
“I don’t,” the book said. “But there is another book that will haveFulaghar’s true name listed.”
“Will it also have Merihim’s true name?” The question was out of Warren’smouth before he knew the question had even taken shape in his mind. Sickness twisted within -him as he waited to be struck down by Merihim.
The book gazed at him from the page with Fulaghar on , it. “When you talk tome, your demon lord cannot hear your thoughts.”
But what about when I’m not talking to you? Will Merihim know what we’ve beentalking about? Warren wanted to ask that question but wondered how best to pose it.
“I can shield those thoughts from Merihim,” the book said. “Just as easily asI can read your thoughts now. As I said, I can be the best friend you’ve everhad.”
“What price am I going to have to pay for that friendship?” Warren asked.“The one thing I’ve learned in this world is that nothing comes for free.”
The book stared at him with serious, ancient eyes.
“When the time comes, Warren Schimmer, you will be my friend. You’ll help meescape this bondage I have been in for thousands of years.” He gave him a small,sad smile. “The Books of the Secret Histories were not made without tremendoussacrifice. I would be free before I die a true death.”
“But how”
“No. We’ll not talk of this matter now. That’s too far off and we have muchto do before such time arrives.” The book gazed at him. “I’m trusting you asmuch as you’re trusting me.”
Warren still didn’t believe that was true, but for the moment he didn’tcontest the veracity of that statement. The time would come, he knew, when he would learn the truth that was being hidden between them.
All that mattered, given his present circumstances and the impossible task before him, was that he needed a friend who could tell him the things the book promised to reveal.
“All right.” Warren studied the obscene figure of Fulaghar on the page.“Tell me about this book that lists the names of the demons.”
“It’s called Goetia, also called The Lesser Key of Solomon. Andit’s somewhere within the city. I can guide you there.”
TWENTY-ONE
“Simon, the old man is awake.”
The communication came over the armor’s frequency so Simon knew their guestwouldn’t take offense. “His name is Archibald Xavier Macomber,” he corrected.“When you address him, address him as Professor Macomber.”
Although he could see Macomber plainly in the HUD, Simon turned to face the old man and opened his faceshield.
Macomber looked disoriented and frightened. He rubbed at one ear like a child.
“Professor Macomber?” Simon said.
The old man looked up at him. “Thomas?” then he caught himself and shook hishead. “No, you’re not Thomas. Forgive me. Sometimes it’s hard to wake up.”
“Some days it’s hard for me to wake up too. Would you like anything to eat ordrink?”
Macomber hesitated. “Something to drink, perhaps. My stomach doesn’t do verywell these days. Perhaps after we get settled and things are not so uncertain.”
One of the Templar pulled a plastic container of water from the ATV stores and handed it to Macomber. The old man fumbled with the seal and couldn’t quitemanage it.
Leah opened her helmet. “Allow me to help you with that, Professor.”
Macomber stared for just a moment, then passed the water flask over to Leah. “Thank you, my dear.”
Leah opened the flask and passed it back to the professor. He nodded his thanks and took a sip. Some of the tension left his face.
“Where are we?” Macomber asked.
“Twenty-five miles east of London,” Simon answered. “We’ll be safe and securein just a little while.”
“I don’t think anywhere is truly safe,” Macomber commented. He smoothed ahand through his wispy white hair. “We did talk about Goetia, right? Ididn’t dream that?”
“No,” Simon replied. “We talked about the book. But not enough.” He feltsorry for the old man, and for everything that he had been through, but if he had information about the demons that they needed he had to get to it. “Do youknow where the book is?”
Macomber fidgeted. “I’ve never seen the book, but I know it exists. I’ve readsections of it. But none of those sections ever had the names of the demons.” Hepaused. “That book is important. It can help in the war against the
