The room got quiet. They all stared at the window. Max put his hands on the table and let his head hang.
“Okay,” said St. George. “What do we have to do?”
The sorcerer shook his head. “I’m not sure,” he said. “This is way bigger than anything I ever planned on. I mean, even in my worst-case scenarios I never figured he’d get a usable host. Once he’s flesh …” Max shrugged.
“You claim the demon was once set loose during the Middle Ages,” said Stealth. “How was it defeated then?”
“I don’t know,” said Max. “The details are fuzzy. The popular theory is Pope Clement the Sixth tricked him into touching the fisherman’s ring. Instant discorporation, but it killed Clement, too.”
“So we need to find the ring,” said Barry. “Okay.”
“It is reasonable to assume the ring is on the far side of the planet,” said Stealth. “At last report, Pope Benedict was sequestered in the Vatican during the outbreaks. It is likely the ring is still in that region.”
“Knowing where it is doesn’t help us if we can’t get there,” said Freedom. He looked at Stealth. “Unless there’s more you’ve been holding out on me, I don’t think we have a transcontinental jet anywhere in the Mount.”
“I could fly it,” said St. George.
“No offense, sir, but flying four hundred miles out to Krypton was tiring for you. We’re talking more than twenty times that, half of which is over open ocean.”
“Bigger issue,” added Danielle. “It all involves going outside and crossing those spell-circles.”
“The ring’s a nonissue,” said Max. He waved a hand at Barry. “The only one who could get there, find the ring, and get back in time would be Zzzap, and he wouldn’t be able to pick it up.”
“Why are you certain of this timeline?” asked Stealth.
“I told you, there’s a bunch of rules to this. For any sort of conscious possession to work, astral cords have to be intertwined, souls married, contracts have to be agreed on, all sorts of stuff. It takes time.”
“Contracts?” asked Freedom.
“Yeah, contracts. Agreements. A demon can’t just jump into your body like it’s a car with the engine running. You have to agree to it. It can lie and cheat and bend words, but there needs to be an agreement. A contract.” He shook his head. “I think our best bet is going to be killing him.”
“Killing him?” Freedom echoed. “Can we do that?”
“I didn’t say it was a good bet. I just said it was our best.” He pressed his fingers against his temples for a moment. “We’re trying to kill a concept, an idea made flesh. So we have to fight it with an idea that’s just as powerful. We’ll need a sword.”
“A sword?” repeated Freedom.
“Is there an echo in here?” Max furrowed his brow at the oversized captain. “Yes, a sword. A long piece of metal with a handle and a pointy end, symbolic since the Garden of Eden.”
“Does it have to be a certain type of sword,” asked Barry, “like a broadsword or a claymore, or would anything do?”
“We’re not going to beat it with a collectible lightsaber, if that’s what you’re asking,” Max said. “It needs to be a real weapon, not a display replica or something. Preferably silver or silver-plated. Even just silver inlays on the blade would be great. If it’s spilled some blood, too, great. Past that, anything goes.”
“There are three museums with historical edged weapons within a mile of the Big Wall,” said Stealth, “and very likely several dozen personal collections with functional swords. However, all of them are beyond your wards.”
“You said I was strong enough for the possession,” said St. George. “Does that mean I could make it out to find a sword?”
Max shook his head. “Strong enough to survive it. It’d still feel like getting kicked repeatedly in the balls by a horse, even to you. Plus he’s got a few million exes out there. Each body gives him a couple seconds to beat the crap out of you.”
“I could take it.”
“Be realistic, George. You know how hard he can hit.”
“I could fly—”
“Even if you flew out of here, he could go for the possession and then beat you unconscious when you fell out of the sky.”
“If we cannot go beyond the seals,” said Stealth, “how do you expect to fight Cairax?”
Max shrugged and stared at the table for a moment. “We wait for him to come here.”
“Whoa.” Barry raised his hand. “Weren’t you just saying him getting in here was extremely bad? Like crossing-the-streams, end-of-life-as-we-know-it bad?”
“We don’t have a lot of options,” said Max. “First things first. We need a sword.”
“The scavengers,” said Freedom.
“What about them?” asked Danielle.
“They carry a lot of nonstandardized weaponry,” he said. “Lady Bee tells me some of them use knives, machetes, other things they find out on runs. Maybe someone’s found a sword and brought it back here.”
“Only one of the scavengers carries a sword,” said Stealth. “Daniel Foe wears a replica katana in a back sheath. He wears it as an attempt to look imposing, hoping to impress Lynne Vines. He has never drawn it.”
“There could be others, though,” said St. George. “Maybe they don’t use it, but somebody may have found one and just kept it as a trophy or something. We should ask all the scavengers and guards.”
Freedom nodded in agreement.
“What about making one?” asked Danielle. “Maybe we could silver-plate a machete or something.”
Max shook his head. “It’s got to fit the symbolism, remember? The less we think of it as a sword, the less the chances it will work.”
“There are also the studio prop houses,” said Stealth. “It is possible there is a real weapon mixed in with the various fantasy and historical movie props.”
“Good call,” said St. George. “I’ll put Ilya and Dave on it.”
Stealth turned her attention back to
