Chapter 6: Divine Intervention

Friday, October 8
Taylorville, South Carolina

Kelly was frightened. Some sort of evil magic had been used to murder her aunt, an attempt had been made on Chris's life, and a group of armed strangers had just tried to capture Joshua. To make matters worse, Kelly could feel a strange, ruthless coldness radiating from her lover. She knew that the good person she loved was still within Joshua, but he was trapped, and struggling to re-emerge. Kelly would try to help him.

Darth Ward was considering tactics to use against the enemy, and thinking about how to best use the prisoner, when the valuable asset set her hand on his shoulder. A disconcerting feeling spread from that spot, and through the very essence of his being.

Darth Ward knew, in a distant sort of way, that the disruptive feeling was love. It was a pointless and ultimately dangerous emotion. It was already eroding Darth's control and forcing him back into semi-dormancy. He could have killed her, but she was a valuable asset. Valuable assets had to be preserved.

Joshua was in a deep dark place. He had only pain and rage for company. He was beyond conscious thought, so he could only scream and endure. Then, a warm tendril of comfort touched him. It reached into his very core and gave him strength. Kelly, Joshua thought. Her love filled him, and his love answered.

Kelly felt Joshua's love flow back through the connection that existed between their souls. Joshua's head turned to face her. Kelly chanced a glance away from the road, and saw that the warmth had returned to her lover's midnight eyes.

"You've saved me twice in one day," Joshua said. "Once from those strangers, and once from myself."

"Who do you think they were?" Kelly asked. "What do they want?" Joshua would have answered that he didn't know the first, but had a guess about the second, but the scream of Chris's prisoner interrupted them.

Joshua's attackers had carried magic talismans, and Ellen had been murdered by magic. Taylorville was a town of roughly two thousand people, so the chance that the two events weren't related was very slim indeed.

As such, Chris had few qualms and less hesitation about burning away the prisoner's personality and replacing it with something more compliant. Normally, the victim of that ability lost consciousness for a short time, but Chris encouraged the prisoner to stay awake by slapping him repeatedly in the face.

"Now, ye worthless bastard, why did ye attack Joshua?" the Irishman asked.

"Mr. D said to..." the man said flatly, blood from his split lip mixing with the drool that was starting to leak from his mouth.

"Give me a name, or, by all the gods, I'll snap yer bones!"

"Mike called him Mr. D..."

"Who's this Mike, then?"

"Mike Marcelli... He is one of Eduardo Marcelli's brothers... Mr. Marcelli owes Mr. D a favor... Mike came to help Mr. D catch the boy who thinks he is a vampire..."

"What nonsense are ye speakin'?"

"The boy who is afraid of crosses..."

"Ye mean those talismans ye and the rest were wearin'?"

"Yes..."

"Ye, didn't know they were enchanted?" The prisoner just stared and drooled, unable to answer the question. Chris tried a different approach.

"Do ye and yer Mike Marcelli believe in magic?"

"No... Fairy tales..."

"Ye're a worthless dupe!" Chris roared in disgust, and his rage lashed at the helpless enemy. It was just as well that much of the man's mind was gone, or the resulting fear would have killed him. "Can ye at least tell where ye were tah meet this Mr. D when ye had Joshua?"

"Not meet Mr. D... Take boy to plane... Mike knows where to fly..."

"An' where is this plane, ye brainless twit?"

"Taylorville docks..."

In the front seat, Joshua suddenly experienced another feeling of distress. Kelly noticed at once.

"Joshua, are you alright?"

"Amy's in danger!" Joshua answered fearfully. "Someone has her! They're takin' her toward the coast!"

"Insurance..." the prisoner said. Joshua was torn. He knew that, unless he went home for some weapons, he couldn't defeat the enemy hiding behind their magical protection. He also feared that if he didn't go straight to the docks, now, he would be too late to help Amy. He didn't want to expose Kelly to any more danger, and Sara, Henry, and his parents were still out there and vulnerable to attack. Left with no attractive options, Joshua made a painful choice.

"Get us to my home, Kelly. Once we are there, get Miss Flowers to call my parents. While she uses one line to do that, use the other phone to call your parents and get them to come over. Whichever one of you gets done first, call the police. Chris, leave the prisoner with Mr. Verne. Make sure that he understands to cooperate with Mr. Verne, and the police, to the best of his ability. I'll get some weapons from the sanctum. Then, you and I will go back out. If the police haven't come to pick up Sara and Henry, we will. We will go to the docks, and rescue Amy and Aunt Wilma." And kill anyone stupid enough to try to stop us.

Kelly wasn't happy with the thought of being left, while Joshua rushed into danger, but she knew that she would be of little help against the armed attackers. If I could just figure out what happened on the road, Kelly thought. If I could control whatever force I unleashed, I could help Joshua. There had been no ritual, or prayer, so it couldn't have been sorcery. Whatever it was, it had nearly knocked Kelly out, and she felt drained, as if she had just run a marathon. I need to figure this out. Oh, Aunt Ellen, if only you were here to help me!

Mike arrived at the Goose just ahead of his sister. The wind was out of the northwest, and slowly increasing in strength. The air was cooling noticeably, and a dark line of clouds could be seen as a gray line on the horizon. He and his four remaining henchmen loaded Sophia's two crates aboard the plane.

"Where's your cargo?" Sophia asked her brother, as she handed him a small, cloth-wrapped package. "And where are Sid, Jack, and Carlo?"

"Mr. D has a lot of explaining to do!" Sophia noticed that her brother was very shaken. "Keep that cross with you at all times, sis. It's the only thing that'll stop that kid. Get everyone on board. Then get the hell outa here. Head for the rendezvous!"

"Head for the rendezvous? What about you? Where are you going?"

"Me and Baker are gonna ask Mr. D some questions," the gangster said, fear and anger fighting for prominence in his voice. "I got three men dead. If I like his answers, I'll ride down with him. If I don't like his answers, I'll be comin' down alone."

Richard Garner discovered that his truck was stuck in the soft earth of the tobacco field when he tried to leave. It took ten minutes for the Garners to get the truck back onto the road. As they were getting the back wheels onto the pavement, two police cars arrived.

Sara and Henry had indeed reached the gas station, and called the police. Between their descriptions of two trucks chasing their friend, the wrecked car in the road, the four dead bodies, and the fact that the Garners hadn't had time to dispose of their weapons, the police were inclined to be suspicious. They got out of their cars with shotguns in hand.

"Police!" one shouted. "Drop your weapons and put your hands on top of your heads!" There was more than a little disgusted profanity from the Garners, but they saw no choice other than compliance. Robert saw Sara Ward and a skinny boy sitting in one of the squad cars. That's why they stopped! He realized, belatedly. That sneaky little son of a whore knew that we were comin' after him! Knowing that he had been set up made the leader of the Garner clan even madder. Robert turned his wrathful gaze on Sara. Go ahead and gloat. Your worthless family is gonna pay for this, and everything else you think you're gettin' away with.

When they reached Davis House, Joshua leaped out of the car and opened the gate.

"Drive on to the house!" he shouted to Kelly. His lover did as he asked. Joshua hurried to his sanctum on foot. He was feeling terribly drained. Thanks to his racial memories, Joshua knew that it was because he was still mostly human and his burst of super speed had required huge amounts of energy. Once his transformation was complete, Joshua would have ample energy, but for now, he would need to be careful not to overdo it. He found Mr. Verne in the middle of repairing the window in the door.

"Mr. Verne, please head up to the house. Amy and Aunt Wilma have been kidnapped. Chris has one of the kidnappers, and he'll want you to take charge of him."

"Oh, my God," Walter said reverently. He turned to go, praying for the safe return of the abducted family members.

Joshua restricted his weapon choices to those that were fairly concealable. He took his spike-style shurikens, two balisong knives, and his K-bar for himself. He would have chosen His Arkansas Toothpick, but it was large enough to be difficult to hide. Joshua grabbed a Sykes-Fairbairn commando knife and a pair of balanced throwing knives for Chris. He didn't know what sort of edged weapons Chris preferred, but he hoped that those three blades would be adequate.

Joshua hurried outside as Chris pulled the station wagon up to the door.

"Yer Mum's here, but yer Da's at his office," the blond youth said. Joshua handed Chris the three knives. "Yer Mum's callin' him now. Kelly's parents weren't home. They may be at the hospital, but Kelly said she'd call the police before she tried tah reach them there." Joshua took the driver's seat, as he had a better idea of where they were going. The station wagon was once more pushed to its performance limits as the two Hetsiuib rushed down the private road and through the gate.

"I need to ask you some questions, Chris," Joshua said, trying not to take too much attention away from his driving. "To start, what's the second way to break the control of the secret name?" Chris looked at Joshua for a moment before speaking. He seemed to be measuring Joshua, judging whether he could be trusted with such information.

"Very well, lad," Chris finally said. "The original Shadow Person o' the twelfth name found a way tah break the control. Before he disappeared tah gods know where, he found some o' the other first named, an' told them that a human soul could break the bonds o' servitude."

"So... what does that mean, exactly?"

"No one knows for certain, lad," Chris said sadly. "Many have sought o'er the years tah solve that one. Tah find the answer is tah be free forever, or so t'is said." The unaging Irishman gave his younger counterpart another measuring gaze. He seemed to be waiting for Joshua to speak. Joshua didn't like the question he was about to ask, but the situation had grown desperate. He needed all the information he could get.

"How can a human soul set us free? What does the human have to do?"

"Well, Joshua, t'is the consensus that a human must die tah free one o' us. Most agree that the human must give his or her soul o' their free will tah do this."

"Who would make such a sacrifice?" Joshua asked in horror.

"Someone who loves ye, lad. Someone who values yer freedom o'er their own life." Chris paused for another moment. "Ye can see why I did not wish tah mention this in front o' yer loved ones. One might a' been tempted tah give it a try."

William Drake was expecting a phone call. What he got was a knock at the door of his suite.

"Who is it?" Carver asked.

"It's Mike Marcelli." Jeff Carver looked through the peephole to insure that it was Marcelli. Then, he opened the door. As Marcelli came through the door, Carver noticed that his henchman was trying to obscure himself behind his boss, and he had one hand inside his jacket.

"LOOK OUT, MR. DRAKE!" Jeff shouted, and he reached for his pistol, but the mafia boss already had a pistol out and shoved it into Jeff's gut.

"Michael, what do you think you are doing?" Drake asked angrily, as a parent might ask a child tying to sneak out after being grounded.

"I'll ask the questions, Drake, and I better like the answers." Marcelli responded, his tone considerably more vicious, while Baker disarmed Carver. "That kid you sent us after can move faster than anything I've ever seen. He killed one of my men and the other like him killed another. Now, what in hell have you gotten us into!?"

"Another?" Drake asked. "There was another like the Ward boy?" Marcelli nodded to Baker, who then struck Carver in the back of the head with his pistol. The bodyguard crumpled to the floor.

"I'm done askin' nice, Drake. Answer my questions, or I'll let Baker convince you to cooperate. Now, what is going on? Why do you want this kid so bad? How did he move so fast?"

"The Ward boy isn't truly human," the sorcerer answered, controlling his rage. "He is still weak, but soon he will gain his full power and shed the vestiges of mortality." Mike had always found Drake to be creepy, but there was a mad light in his eyes now that chilled the gangster's blood. "He was able to move so fast because speed is a useful characteristic in a warrior. He is also stronger, and tougher than human. His senses are sharper and he can twist the emotions of any unprotected human he encounters. I want him because, when he reaches his full power, I will be able to control him. He'll kill who I want, when I want, and he'll bend those too valuable to kill to my will. He is power, and he will be mine."

Mike Marcelli had seen more than a few horror movies in his life. He was familiar with the mad scientists who thought that they could control their creations. Thanks to his Catholic upbringing, Mike was also familiar with creatures that recoiled from the sign of the cross, and the master they served.

"You're sayin' you wanna make a deal with this demon?"

"You ask me questions, but you refuse to listen to the answers!" the sorcerer replied, anger and impatience finding renewed outlet in his voice. "I will not deal with him! There is an ancient and infallible method of control. He will be my slave, able only to obey. He will serve me, and those wise enough to be my friends."

"You dragged my family into this, and now you want to drag us into Hell?" Mike roared back. He crossed himself.

"You hypocrite! Do you really think that there is a place for you at the right hand of your God? You, who murder, steal, peddle poison and flesh all week, confess on Sunday, and start again as soon as you are out of the church? You set foot on the downward path before you ever heard of William Morgan Drake the Third!"

"God forgives- "

"If He's willing to forgive all your other sins, I think He can manage one more!" Mike noted the irreverent sarcasm in Drake's voice, but he also noted a certain amount of sense. Why wouldn't God forgive us? If Drake is right, that kid could be very useful...

Joshua took a page from the enemy's book. He drove down into the dry canal to bypass the mess on Canal Road. It was a murderously bumpy ride in the station wagon, but youngsters with 4x4s often drove along the canal bottom for kicks. There was a broken lock, one of those blown up by the Union forces, which offered a steep dirt path back to the road, a little before Gage Street. It took everything the old car was able to give to climb out of the canal.

They roared up to the gas station. Henry and Sara weren't there. Joshua knew that if they had been attacked, he would have sensed it, so he continued on toward the docks.

Joshua stopped the car well short of the docks. He parked in the alley behind Teach's Tavern, and he and Chris continued on foot. There was no point in letting the enemy see them coming. The pair spit up, Joshua heading for the north end of the docks and Chris for the south.

Joshua's path took him right by the Francis Marion Hotel on his way to circle around the block of warehouses that marked the end of the docks. He felt unfriendly eyes on his back, and turned to find a familiar looking pair of men across the street from him. One was medium height, with a lean build. The other was taller, and stocky with a nose that had been severely broken at some point in his life. Both had been at the ambush. The shorter of the two had been the one giving orders. The big fellow had his hand tucked inside of his coat.

Mr. Drake had said that the dark-haired demon kid, and probably the blond one like him, would be headed for the docks. Marcelli had had some doubt, but he had no sooner left the hotel than he saw the black-haired kid walking down the opposite side of the street. Mike had barely noticed the boy, when he spun to face the gangster. He's got good instincts, Mike thought, hoping those instincts didn't extend to an ability to detect fear.

"Be ready with that cross, Baker," the gangster said to his henchman as they started across the street. The kid stood his ground, rage flashing in his black eyes.

Marcelli and Baker were shielded from the effects of Joshua's anger, but the rush hour crowd felt an overwhelming urge to clear away. They fled to less stressful locations, until the street was empty, but for Joshua and the two gangsters. The sky was darkening with approaching storm clouds. The howl of the wind and the roar of thunder were the only sounds.

"Hello, Joshua," Marcelli said, hoping to put the boy off balance by revealing that he knew his name. Joshua wasn't surprised. He had already figured out that the enemy was after him. The timing and location of their ambush suggested that they had been observing him long enough to determine his habits and learn his name.

He didn't reveal that he knew Marcelli's name. It would have been gratifying to see the surprise such a statement would cause, but Marcelli would have certainly guessed the source of that information. Joshua didn't want his enemy to know that Chris had taken a prisoner, or that the police would soon have the man in custody. Such knowledge could drive Marcelli to desperate acts. Joshua wanted his opponent to feel secure, giving the police time to mobilize against the kidnappers.

Marcelli saw no surprise on the youth's inscrutable face. Normally, Mike would have admired the kid's guts, but not knowing what a monster was thinking was very frightening. Marcelli reached into his jacket pocket. In the blink of an eye, the black-haired fiend produced a metal spike, like a magician would produce a playing card, and raised it to throw.

"Stop!" Marcelli said. "Before you do somethin' stupid, I got somethin' to give you." Mike reached slowly into the pocket. The boy stayed ready to throw his weapon. Marcelli cautiously produced the package his sister had given him. "This won't hurt you," Marcelli said. Then he tossed the package.

Joshua caught the package with his left hand, keeping the right hand free and ready to throw the shuriken. Whatever was wrapped in the green cloth was light and an odd mixture of soft and hard. Joshua opened the package one-handed. He chanced a quick glance at the contents. The earring was unmistakable, as was the ear to which it was still attached.

"If you don't do exactly what I tell you to do, your family will get her back in weekly packages. If I don't report back to my men, or if the police are called, both will die, and you'll need dental records to identify them." The ruthless warrior in Joshua wanted to kill these two foes. Amy and Aunt Wilma were acceptable losses. Yielding to their demands was not to be considered. But the poisons of love and concern for others flowed in Joshua's veins. He couldn't allow the hostages to be killed.

"Very, well," Joshua said with resignation. You'll make a mistake eventually, and then... For now, Amy and Aunt Wilma have to be my prime concerns.

The Great Chasm
Realm of the Norse Gods

Grinweir and Ysdrad were at their posts when their master returned. Both elves knelt and lowered their heads.

"Welcome, my Lord," they said.

"A mortal was just praying to Loki," their master said hastily. "What can you tell me of him?"

"He is named William Morgan Drake the Third, my Lord," Grinweir answered. He has called upon Loki twice in as many days."

"His prayers were answered?"

"Yes, my Lord," Ysdrad responded. "The first ritual called upon Loki's servants to spread chaos, pain and death at a large airport. The second prayer was directed to Loki himself. This mortal asked to be hidden from detection. Now, even with the power of Yggdrasil, we cannot track the mortal sorcerer. We have only a vague notion of where he is."

"Are the servants of Loki still at work?" the god asked.

"Yes, my Lord," Grinweir replied again. "They continue to wreak havoc at the airport. Most mortals have left the area, but a brave few remain, attempting to investigate the cause of what they think are accidents or human sabotage. As they search for answers they will not find, they fall prey to the traps of the spirits."

The god who ruled the dark elves thought for a moment, before speaking.

"Ysdrad, tell the army to prepare for battle. Grinweir, you will go to Midgard." The god took the mistletoe dart off of his cloak and pinned it through his shirt sleeve. He removed his cloak and held it out. "Take my cloak of darkness to hide you from the sun, and the tireless sight of our enemy. Your mission will be difficult, but it may open the way to our ultimate success."

"I will do all that I can to be worthy, and carry out your orders, Lord Hoder," Grinweir said, as she accepted the cloak.

Taylorville, South Carolina

Chris found no plane at the docks. This didn't surprise him, because the kidnappers had had a regrettably long period of time to escape. Likewise, Chris didn't see any familiar faces from the ambush. What did surprise Chris was the absence of Joshua.

By the time Chris had passed by half of the docks, he knew that something was wrong. Chris knew that he should have, at least, been able to see Joshua by then. He began to run. Chris knew that he was abandoning any hope of stealth in doing so. Stealth will be o' little use, if I'm too late.

Joshua was in a great deal of pain. The amulets of his enemies were like two small suns. He was forced to close his eyes against the glare and they seemed to radiate a blast furnace heat. He tried to resist the pain stoically, but was not completely successful.

Marcelli and Baker displayed their amulets openly while they searched the boy for weapons. Doing so clearly caused the dangerous youth great pain, but the mafiosi didn't care. They found three knives and a number of the small sharp spikes. Then Baker put the super restraints on the monster boy.

The gangsters were loading Joshua into the back of their rented jeep, when Chris arrived on the scene. He saw the two men, and he saw what they were doing. Baker and Marcelli didn't see Chris, however. The Irishman used that to his advantage.

"Close the trunk, Baker," Mike said. "I'll get the engine started. Baker didn't answer, which was odd for him. Chris turned to ask what was wrong, and that was when he noticed the look of pain and surprise on his henchman's face. Baker fell forward, revealing the knife handle sticking from his back. The blade was hidden inside Baker's body, where it had passed through his heart.

Instinctively, Mike raised his talisman. The power of the enchanted artifact blinded Chris as he threw the second knife. This put off the Irish lad's aim enough that the thrown blade struck Marcelli in the thigh, just above the knee. Mike cried out in pain as he pressed his pistol to the dark-haired monster's head.

"Stay back, or I blow his brains out!" the mobster shouted. Chris froze. He had been about to throw the commando knife at the center of the blinding glare and hope for the best.

Chris Howell burned with grief and rage the likes of which he had seldom known. His Ellen was dead, and one of the murderers stood before him. A large part of Chris wanted to throw the knife, regardless of the fact that doing so would condemn Joshua to death. Of course, the few people over the centuries that Chris had loved would not approve of such action. Ellen, in particular would never forgive such a callous act.

"If it was just me, I'd say kill him," Joshua called to Chris. "But if this yankee doesn't report in, they'll kill Amy and Aunt Wilma." Three innocent lives, Chris thought angrily. They win this round. Chris lowered the knife. Marcelli smiled in a giddy mixture of relief, surprise, and continuing fear.

"Drop the knife and the hockey stick, blondie," Mike said, trying to control his fear, and hide it from the human-looking monster he confronted. Chris complied reluctantly. "If you try to follow me, your friend gets it," Marcelli threatened. "Now, back off, like a good little, whatever you are, and I'll be on my way."

Mike watched the blond creature back away. He was squinting, unable to look directly at the cross Mike held. Marcelli stooped quickly down, and grabbed Baker's amulet from his dead hand. The gangster wasn't going to take a chance of Mr. Drake's prize getting away, or another of his kind coming to his rescue.

The mobster hung his dead henchman's cross around Joshua's neck. The amulet fell against the young man's chest. Joshua's shirt was no protection from the hateful amulet. It felt as if a globe of insatiable fire had been pressed to him, burning through flesh, bone, and vital organs.

Joshua was tough, far tougher than he had ever imagined himself to be, and a good deal tougher than any human, but the agony of this new assault was more than he could contain. His strangled screams of pain echoed off of the buildings around him. Joshua fought against his restraints, but even his great strength could not defeat the tempered steel manacles and chains. There was no relief for the soul scorching, mind drowning torment. Even the mercy of unconsciousness was denied him by his inability to rest in anything but total darkness. The screams only ceased when Marcelli shoved a cloth into Joshua's mouth.

Chris wanted to attack. He wanted to rescue Joshua and kill the heartless bastard who was torturing him. But Chris knew that to do so now would almost certainly get Joshua and the hostages killed. I know more than ye think, an' I'll find ye, Chris thought. Yer prisoners'll be freed. Ye'll not escape my wrath then.

Kelly was speaking to the police. She, Sara, and Henry were explaining everything that they had seen. The captured gangster was co-operating, which surprised the sheriff. The FBI had been called and they were certain to find his information about the kidnappers interesting.

"So, why were you headin' down Canal Road, Miss Wilkes?" the sheriff asked.

"Well, Sheriff Keeler, I wanted to catch Joshua before he left the school."

"Was he gonna bring you the lessons you missed?"

"Yes, sir, that's-" Kelly suddenly lost the power of speech. She was overcome by a blazing agony in her chest. The teen bent double and toppled to the floor. Joshua, she thought, before she passed out. Outside, sheets of rain began to fall. In one instant it had not been raining, and in the next, there was a torrent.

Interstate 90
East of Chicago, Illinois

Charlie Hawkins was hurrying along the interstate as fast as his Preston TurboApollo III motorcycle would go, weaving through the traffic like a needle through cloth. He would have been heading down to South Carolina anyway, since his son would soon be turning sixteen, but the feelings of distress he had been receiving from Julie and their son spurred him on.

Charlie never would have left Julie if he had had the least choice in the matter. But he couldn't risk what his enemy might do to someone he loved. Charlie had run from the nameless sorcerer who hunted him.

The bond he had forged with Julie had never faded. About a week after he left the snowbound hotel, Charlie had sensed the new life growing within her body. He knew then that there were two precious lives that he had to protect.

A means to throw the pursuing sorcerer off of his trail had already been a high priority for Charlie. When he finally found a powerful sorcerer willing to aid him, Charlie had asked that Julie and the unborn child be protected as well. The resulting ritual had cost Charlie more than half of his savings, but it had defeated the efforts of his enemy and kept his lover and son safe.

Now, Joshua was in danger and Charlie had a terrible suspicion that the old enemy was behind it. Charlie didn't know how he could fight an enemy who almost certainly held the secret name of his family, but he would not abandon his loved ones.

The Hetsiuib was rolling up to a toll booth when the horrible pain burst to flaming life in his chest. The pain took Charlie by surprise, he lost his balance, and the bike fell, bouncing and skidding across the asphalt. He slammed into the booth with bone-breaking force.

The toll operator was shocked by the sudden accident. She rushed out to see if she could help the injured motorist. The rider was tangled in the remains of his once majestic steed. His left arm was bent at two unnatural angles. His right hand was removing his shattered helmet. A sharp piece of bone was jutting from his lower left leg, stained with something that looked as black as crude oil. When the helmet came off, the operator saw a handsome, youthful face, contorted in incredible pain.