Goetia

made himself wait. The movements of his hand weren’t his own. A momentlater, fierce bee stings ignited in his face along his chin. The flesh had burned away to the bone there.

Unable to keep his eyes closed, he looked at the mirror. His surprise muted the pain he experienced. Waves of shimmering force radiated from his hand and touched his face. Where the energy touched his face, new skin grew over the demon’s scales. But the new skin was smooth, unblemished ebony just as he’dimagined.

“You can’t reject the demon side of yourself,” the voice said. “It willalways be part of you now. But you can clothe it in your own flesh.”

Warren watched in stunned fascination as the process continued. He controlled the pain and pushed it to the back of his mind.

“I apologize,” the voice said. “There’s nothing that can be done for thepain.”

“It’s all right,” Warren said. “I’ve handled pain all my life. Continue.”

Long minutes later, Warren looked at the face he’d imagined in the mirror. Hecouldn’t remember if he’d ever looked exactly like that or if the features wereidealized from what he could remember. In the end, it didn’t matter. He lookedhuman again.

Perspiration coated his face from the strain and the discomfort he’d sufferedthrough. He was afraid that the thin coating of perspiration would wash away what he and the voice hadaccomplished.

“That won’t happen,” the voice said. “The changes you have made arepermanent. Unless you’re damaged or wish to change your features again.”

“What about my power?” Warren asked. For the first time he thought aboutthat. “The Cabalists scar and tattoo themselves to use the arcane energies thatthe demons brought into this world.”

“Only because they believe they have to. Or because they wish to. Those whotap the Well of Midnight and choose a path through Darkness are marked in other ways that don’t show on their bodies. Your power grows, Warren. Where the othersborrow that energy, you’ve got Darkness inside you.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Darkness is part of your being.”

The thought twisted and writhed in Warren’s head. It caused the pain at histemples to beat even more harshly. “Because of Merihim?”

“Merihim didn’t put it there,” the voice said. “It’s always been there.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. But it was probably what saved you from Merihim’s attack fouryears ago.”

“He said he spared me.”

“He lied.”

“Could he have destroyed me?” Can he now?

The voice hesitated, then answered. “Yes. You must be careful. The Darknesswithin you is strong, but it’s not as strong as a demon. However, that Darknesswithin you is still growing.”

Warren thought about that and was afraid. If he was tied to the Darkness, did that make him evil? Was that why no one had ever cared for him? Because they somehow sensed the taint?

“The Darkness isn’t evil,” the voice said. “Light and Darkness are merely twoseparate paths. Acceptance between those who walk separate paths is hard-earned.”

Warren looked at his face and touched it with his human hand. A thin line of beard, just as he’d imagined it, ran from his sideburns to his chin. He’d neverbeen able to grow that before.

He tried to comprehend the explanation he’d been given.

“Do you see Merihim as evil?” the voice asked.

Warren thought about all the things he’d done in the demon’s name over thelast four years. He’d snuffed out lives and taken things—like the book—thatMerihim had wanted. And he’d given no regard to those lives because it came downto a decision between their lives or his.

“Yes,” Warren answered.

“Merihim—and all of demonkind—is evil because he wishes to be. Even if he wasallied with the Light, which would never happen because the demons were shut away from that path a long time ago, he would be evil. Light and Darkness are beginnings after a fashion. And an end. What a being does with the powers in between is up to that individual being. Do you understand?”

“I think so. But how does that apply to me?”

“Do you see yourself as evil?”

All the deaths at Warren’s hands—hand, he corrected himself—swirledthrough his mind. People had died screaming from wounds he’d caused. They’d gonedown beneath zombies he’d raised.

“No,” he whispered. It had been their lives against his. No one could faulthim for saving his own life. People in natural disasters did that all the time. No one would argue that the Hellgate was the worst disaster to ever occur. “I’m not evil.” Buthe knew that others would think he was.

“Then you’re not.”

Warren tried to take solace in the explanation he’d been given, but he didn’tknow if everything could be weighed so simply. He peered at his image in the mirror. He certainly looked less evil than he had. But the demon hide still gleamed dark and liquid at his throat.

“Can we continue?” he asked.

“Yes.”

THIRTY-SIX

“You should get some rest, Simon. Standing there isn’t going to heal youngMathias any faster.” Simon had to admit he was nearly out on his feet as hestood staring through the glass of the infirmary they’d built in the fortress.On the other side, Mathias was wired into a dozen different machines they’dsalvaged from hospitals throughout London that no longer had the power or personnel to man them. They’d even gotten a few of them from Templar Undergroundareas that had been evacuated after the All Hallows’ Eve battle at St. Paul’s.

“I will,” Simon replied. “I’d just like to spend a few more minutes here andmake sure he’s going to be all right.”

Wertham joined him at the window. The other Templar was in his sixties, worn and haggard-looking from a lifetime of fishing on the Thames and in the North Sea. He’d been one of the Templar who’d lived full lives outside theUnderground. His hair was a peppered mix of sandy blonde and gray. He wore a squared-off short beard that framed a generous mouth. Like the other Templar, he wore his armor everywhere throughout the redoubt except in his sleeping quarters.

“You’ve been standing watch for over two hours from what I’m told,” Werthamsaid.

Simon didn’t know that. They’d managed the journey back from AkehurstSanitarium and hooked up with an