“It seems I’m forced to accept my fate today, Templar,” the Minion said.
“And you never earned a Name for yourself,” Simon taunted. “Too bad.”
“Maybe I’ll make it back from the Well of Midnight,” the demon said.
The Well of Midnight was the spawning place of the Shadow and the demons. Simon had heard the stories about it all his life. Even after years of trying to imagine it, he hadn’t been able to think of a place that horrid.
“You have no soul, demon,” Simon said. “When you die, you’re destroyed. There’s nothing left of you after this place.”
The demon laughed defiantly. “Do you truly think so?”
“Yes.”
“Then you’re a fool. The Well of Midnight will succor me back into its embrace and make of me what it wishes. If I am strong enough, if I have followed the way of the Shadow truly enough, I will be back.” The Minion wheezed as it labored to breathe. “If not, the Well of Midnight will still reclaim my essence and use me to make more demons.”
The thought chilled Simon. How can anyone face an inexhaustible army?
“Your world will fall, Templar,” the demon whispered. “All worlds before this one have fallen.”
“Not this one,” Simon said. “Our destiny is greater than yours.”
The demon laughed. “Who told you that?”
“It has been written.” Even the Goetia manuscript alluded to that. “It is the truth given by the Creator.”
Something in what Simon said caused fear in the Minion. He saw the apprehension in the demon’s widened eyes.
“The Truths,” the demon whispered, “shall never again be—” Then it shivered and went still. The pupils of the eyes relaxed, then grew and became black pools.
Simon stared down at the creature and wondered what he’d said that had caused such a reaction. Did the demon say “truth” or “truths”? He wasn’t sure.
“Is it dead, Lord Cross?”
At the mention of his hereditary title, Simon looked up at the three approaching Templar. Even though the Templar at the redoubt had been in the habit of calling him Lord Cross for the past few months, Simon still wasn’t used to it. Lord Cross had been his father, and even Thomas Cross hadn’t often gone by that.
“Yes,” Simon said. “It’s dead.” He took his shield from the Templar who had gone to retrieve it, then knelt and washed away the demon’s blood with a handful of snow.
“Sergeant Wertham would like to be away as soon as possible,” another Templar said.
“Especially in light of the fact that you weren’t supposed to be here tonight,” Simon said, “I can understand how he’d want to feel that way.”
“We’re sorry about that, Lord Cross.”
These faceplates totally suck when it comes to humor and sarcasm, Simon thought. He turned his faceplate translucent to show the Templar his smile.
Their faceplates cleared as well, and their youth astonished him. He’d trained all of them himself, and had even helped two of them forge their armor.
“It was a joke,” Simon explained.
“Oh.” But none of them relaxed enough to smile or grin with any real enthusiasm.
Simon led the way out of the forest. A quick check of the HUD showed that the other two ATVs had rolled in the direction of the deer they’d taken. Tonight wouldn’t be a complete loss.
Except that there was no way to replace the three Templar that had gotten killed. Every one of those lives was precious.
With a heavy heart, Simon trudged through the snow, hoping for at least a few hours’ respite before he was thrown once more into the fray. His thoughts strayed to Leah, and he wondered how she fared. They hadn’t seen each other in weeks.
That was just as well, he decided. She had her secrets, such as who she actually was and what she represented, and he had his. Since he’d last seen her, Macomber had made considerable advances on translating the Goetia manuscript. He would hate lying to her about that, but he knew he would.
At least until he was certain their agendas matched more closely.
ELEVEN
They’re not going to welcome us with open arms.”
Studying the men hiding behind trees and brush before them, Warren knew that Naomi’s words spoke the truth. People who lived outside London or managed to escape the metropolitan area weren’t going to want to trust anyone coming down these roads.
The zombies made that trust even less likely.
“I didn’t expect them to welcome us,” Warren replied. In truth, he hadn’t wanted to meet anyone while following Lilith’s directions.
Only a short distance farther one, when no mistake could be made about the direction they took, a man stepped out of the shadows and stood near a copse of trees. He was gaunt and tense. Warren saw that in the man’s aura. Of course, that tension was also easy to tell because the man pointed a shotgun at them.
“That’s about far enough,” the man shouted.
“We come in peace.” Warren never broke stride, though Naomi fell back a couple of steps.
The man fired the shotgun over Warren’s head. The explosive sound echoed over the marshlands.
“If you don’t stop right there, you bloody fool, the people you’re with will be carrying your body home.”
Warren stopped.
“You don’t have to follow this man’s dictates.” Lilith stood beside Warren with her arms folded imperiously. “You can order the zombies to attack.”
“We could also try our luck at a more diplomatic approach.” Warren resisted the impulse to blast his way through the men and women gathered there in the darkness. While he’d still be in Merihim’s thrall, he didn’t think he would have been allowed to back down.
“Showing weakness is a bad thing,” Lilith said.
“Stopping to discuss this isn’t weakness,” Warren replied.
“I agree,” Naomi told him. “But I don’t think they’re going to let us pass.”
“Is there another way?” Warren asked Lilith. “Could we go around?”
“We could. But it would take longer, and you would lose more of the zombies. You don’t want to be out in this country with no defenses.”
Warren silently agreed with that assessment. “We’ll lose some of the
