The abdyos triad, p.9
The Abdyos Triad, page 9
Nothing.
He pulled the phone away and glared at it. Tapping the talk button again, he waited for a moment, then repeated the action. Holding it to his ear again, he waited for the dial tone, but it was silent. There was nothing but an empty hiss in the receiver. His heart jumped up into his throat as he dropped the cordless to the floor. He had just seen a dark shadow pass in front of one of his apartment's three windows. Kneeling down, he slowly took his gun in his hand and steeled his nerves.
At that same moment, the middle window shattered inward. Slowly rising to his feet, Hayden lifted the weapon toward the window. He ran his thumb over the hammer and cocked it. He watched the window intently as his hands began to waver. Fear was eating him alive.
Again, there was nothing. Hayden let out a long exasperated breath as he wiped the beads of sweat from his brow. Cradling the weapon in both hands, he slowly uncocked it and let it fall to his side. Taking a few tentative steps toward the window, he peered through the shards of glass, nothing but the cool Seattle night outside. The gears in his mind began to whirr. Something wasn't right he-
A dark form swept in the window hitting Hayden squarely in the chest. Hayden skittered to the floor, his back hitting hard against the broken glass. He could feel the tips jutting into the soft flesh of his back. His eyes went wide in the darkness as he scanned the room for his attacker, but there was no sign of him. Making a split second decision, he lifted himself off the floor and quickly retrieved his weapon. Quickly sweeping the room, he moved slowly toward the barricade in front of his door. With one hand still firmly on the weapon, he pushed the pile of rubble out of the way.
Taking one final look around the apartment, his hand moved rapidly to the door handle. Moving on instinct alone, Hayden bolted out the apartment's door and hit a dead run down the hall toward the emergency stairs.
***
The steady flicker of tall, black candles cast a golden light over the hard surfaces of the room. It was not designed with comfort in mind, rather pure practicality. From the walls, the black marble floor, to the ancient iron chandelier hanging overhead, this room had but one purpose. A lone figure sat cross-legged in the center. She wore dark garments and a lace veil over her face as she sat motionless. Her current task required all her attention. She couldn't allow so much as an out of rhythm heartbeat to break her concentration or use some of her precious energy. She had to focus. She felt her energy gathering in her feet and begin to work up her body. It moved slowly through her stomach and into her chest and finally, to the top of her head. With one fluid motion, she snapped her head back and released the energy. A solid blue white stream of power surged from her eyes and mouth toward the ceiling, flooding the room with an intense light.
As the stream diffused, the woman slowly stood and opened her eyes. Vague shadows could be seen traveling in and through the light. She had done it. She spared only a moment to savor her triumph, then returned her full focus to the task at hand. As if her mind were a searchlight in the fog, the shadows were revealed to be people in their daily routine, unaware they were being watched. She stopped momentarily on a figure, but quickly continued on. She was searching for something very specific.
There was another, then another. Frustration began to build in her mind. It was imperative to find her quarry. All thoughts of despair suddenly washed away as she focused on a single woman. A faint, bubbling blue aura could be seen around her. She was bent over her computer typing effortlessly.
The witch smiled and relaxed. Flexing all her muscles at once, she raised a hand and twirled it counterclockwise over her head. The white light of the room vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving only the golden glow of the candles. Turning by no visible means, the witch moved toward the far side of the room, her feet never touching the floor. She motioned with her left hand and the tall, wooden door creaked open. She could see her companion before a large open window peering out into the city. It was not her place to interrupt. She had to be addressed before speaking. She folded her hands neatly and waited.
The second witch slowly spun to face her. "You, who are Horus, the Son," she said in a low, quiet voice, "what do you wish of me?"
Horus moved effortlessly into the room. "I kneel before Osiris, the Father," Horus said as she dropped down to one knee. "I have news."
Osiris extended her hand and lifted Horus out of her kneeling position. "What is it?"
"I have found another match," Horus hissed. "I have also seen that several new players have entered our arena." She paused, "They mean to stop us."
Osiris turned away from Horus and back to her window. "This is a regrettable turn of events." She scanned over the city with her mind. She could also feel their presence. "I hadn't expected so much outside interference, but they won't stop us." She turned back to her younger counterpart, "I have foreseen it."
"As have I," Horus agreed.
"Do we have a collector available to us?" Osiris asked.
"There is already one collector on the streets."
"I do not like his methods," Osiris shook her head slowly. "He will serve us well in other capacities, but he is not delicate enough for our needs. Use another."
Horus produced a small colorful poppet from a satchel slung over her shoulder. "This woman has served us well."
Osiris nodded. "Well, indeed." She smiled beneath her veil. "Proceed, and soon we will be the Abydos Triad again and all prisoners will be released."
Horus lifted her open palm to Osiris. Lifting a knife out of her satchel, Osiris pulled it across Horus' hand opening a large gash. The wound immediately began to bleed a thick, almost black blood. Horus lowered her hand and pressed her bloody palm against the poppet doll. "By the Gates of Hell, we summon thee," she said slowly as she covered the poppet in her blood.
"By the power of our master, the Dark Lord, we command thee," Osiris continued.
Horus lifted the poppet high above her head. While cradling it in both hands, she spoke the final words of the incantation. "Let no mortal or impasse turn you away from your course. By the power of three times three, you belong to us, so mote it be!" The poppet burst into flames in her hands. Bringing it slowly down in front of her face, Horus watched her blood burn in a bright blue flame around the doll.
Osiris smiled. "It is done."
***
Lexy's head snapped back unnaturally in her cell. A low, guttural moan escaped her lips that seemed to emanate from the very bowels of hell. Her eyes closed slowly and began to jerk frantically behind her eyelids as a shiver ran up her body. She pressed her palms to the sides of her head trying to stifle the pain. Her body convulsed, knocking her to the floor. Twisting an arm around her body, Lexy slowly pushed herself into a sitting position. She slowly opened her eyes. The once dark pupils were now replaced with a thin, milk-white membrane, much like the one some species of shark use to protect the delicate flesh of their eyes during an attack. Flicking her tongue out of her mouth, she ran it quickly over her teeth. She could feel them becoming sharper, even hardening.
Standing from the cot in her cell, she moved to the rear. There was a small one foot by one foot window high on the wall. She glanced down the wall, then back up to the window. It was at least six feet off the floor.
Pressing her fingertips against the wall with unimaginable strength, she watched as they slowly dug into the concrete. Quickly, she climbed up until she was level with the window. Balling up her fist, she threw it hard into the window, shattering the thick glass, but in the process, breaking the small bones in her hand. She pulled her oddly deformed hand back and stared at it for a moment. It would heal. Reaching her arm out of the window, she began to squeeze through; first her head, then her shoulders. She felt her ribs crack one by one as she pushed her torso through. Now hanging out the window, she glanced down at the ground beneath her. It was easily twenty feet. Moving her hands behind her, she pushed off the wall and freed the rest of her body from the window.
She sailed into the asphalt below, her head hitting first with a sickening crunch, then her body, a broken sack of bones and organs, followed. Lexy lay motionless on the ground, her body twisted into an unnatural position, as a steady stream of blood seeped from the corner of her mouth.
Her eyes snapped open.
Chapter Ten
Bishop lifted his cell phone and clicked it on. He waited for a moment until the signal meter filled up. Using his thumb, he scrolled through a dozen preprogrammed numbers in the memory until he found the one he wanted. He tapped the send button and held the slim device to his ear. He glanced around the street as he listened to the ring on the other end. He had taken up a position just outside the apartment complex for most of the day, just in case his target had decided to leave. He wasn't going to let this one go.
He heard the familiar click on the other end. "Dawn? It's me."
"What's the word, Bish?" Dawn asked.
"There's little to nothing on this end," Bishop assessed grimly. "I thought I might have one lead, but my best efforts have been blocked."
Dawn sighed. "I haven't had much luck either. Why don't you head back? We'll regroup and try and attack this from a different angle."
"Sounds-" Before Bishop could complete his sentence, he was knocked to the ground. The cell phone skidded out of his hand along the pavement. Snapping his head up, he saw another man also picking himself up off the ground with what appeared to be a pistol in his hand. Bishop's eyes widened at the sight. It was his target. The man looked back and recognized Bishop as well. He took off at a dead sprint down the sidewalk.
Rolling onto his hands and feet, Bishop quickly pushed off like a sprinter. He moved easily between the trash and other discarded junk on the sidewalk. He was a good twenty paces behind his target and wasn't gaining. Bishop pushed himself harder, his eyes firmly focused on the man ahead. He didn't want to lose him in the twilight that had settled over the city. Dark clouds had begun rolling in again after the brief rainstorm that afternoon and were threatening once more. If Bishop didn't catch him by time it got completely dark, he knew his target would have a thousand places to hide. He couldn't let that happen. He was running for a reason, and Bishop needed to know why.
Skittering around a wayward dumpster, Bishop saw his target duck into an alley, almost losing his footing in the process. Bishop stopped at its mouth. He suddenly remembered the target had a weapon, and probably wouldn't hesitate to use it. Craning his head slightly around the corner, Bishop smiled. The alley came to a dead end. His eyes quickly scanned the shadows. There were several places to hide there, and any mistake on Bishop's part could be a deadly one. He took a deep breath and stepped into the open. Raising his hands above his head, he continued to peer into the darkness. He had a plan.
"I just want to talk," Bishop said evenly. "I just want to ask you a few questions."
Bishop heard the crack of the weapon and the bullet whizzing past his ear. Diving to the left, he hit the ground and rolled away from the alley. "Shit," he muttered under his breath. "I knew that was coming." He took a deep breath as he pulled himself up into a sitting position and rested against the wall. "There's no way out," he shouted into the alley.
"I have the gun!"
"Yes, you do," Bishop conceded dully, a bit shocked hearing his target's voice. "Listen, I just want to talk. I don't want to hurt you." Bishop shifted up onto the balls of his feet.
"It's not you I'm worried about."
Bishop was puzzled at the statement. "What are you talking about?"
No reply.
Bishop slowly peeked around the corner. He cursed under his breath. He was quickly losing the light. It was getting harder and harder to make anything out in there. He spotted a tall dumpster just inside the alley. He knew he could make it there if he just stayed low. "I can help you, if you'll let me," he said as he started to move.
"I don't think so."
Bishop pressed his back flat against the wall as he began to slink inside. Slowly at first, he used his hands to guide him along the wall. Due to the echo in the alley, he couldn't get a fix on his target's voice. He could easily be at the very end, or on the other side of the dumpster for all Bishop knew. "Listen to me, I work with a group who helps people. All you have to do is lay down your weapon and come out." Bishop felt a small chunk of broken concrete next to him. He slowly cradled it in his hand.
"That's not going to happen."
The voice, it was…Bishop snapped his head up and felt his heart sink. His target was standing on a fire escape directly above him. He had seen Bishop's every move and had his weapon pointed directly at him. Bishop dived forward just as the target pulled the trigger again. He heard the bullet ricochet off the ground just behind him. Bishop rolled hard to his left coming up on his feet. He reeled back with the concrete and tossed it as hard as he could toward the target. He let out a grunt of satisfaction as the chunk hit his target just below the bridge of his nose.
Bishop snapped his head to the right and spotted the ladder leading up to the escape. He leapt ahead and latched on. Glancing back up at his target, he watched as the man quickly regained his balance. Bishop moved briskly up the ladder and onto the fire escape. He charged the target, stuffing his shoulder directly into the man's midsection. The target let out a gasp as the wind was knocked out of him. He tried to retaliate, but Bishop was already on top of him. Grabbing him by the shirt collar, Bishop swept his leg behind the target's knees and dropped him to the iron grating. The pistol fell onto the edge of the railing, teetering on the brink of falling.
Bishop jabbed a knee into the man's midsection while pinning his arms down. "I'm not here to hurt you."
A trickle of blood from Hayden's nose ran down over his lips. "Could've fooled me," he said with a gasp.
Bishop watched as the man's eyes focused on something just over his shoulder. "What?"
"You're going to die," Hayden whispered in fear.
"Not by your hand," Bishop noted.
"No," Hayden swallowed hard, "by its."
Bishop peered over his left shoulder to see a dark form standing on the edge of the roof just above them. It was watching them. Bishop drew a deep breath, "Oh crap."
***
Kelley ducked around a corner just as an orderly went by. She caught herself marveling at the cleanliness of the hospital again and mentally reprimanded herself. This wasn't the time for that. The doctor on call had just come on duty and she had to catch him before he started making his rounds. Kelley had been sitting in the waiting room most of the evening, sifting through old magazines and waiting. The information she had culled from the Chief of Staff had told her which doctors had been on duty last night, and who probably handled Lexy's case. Kelley knew it was imperative she talked to him. It was only then she would begin to get answers.
She glanced down at her watch. It was nearing eight-thirty, well past visiting hours. She had to be cautious. Closing her eyes, she reached out with her mind and scanned the hospital. She smiled. He was here. She could sense him. She also felt several other doctors and nurses on this floor, as well as a few orderlies. It would be easy to work her way around them. That was one of the benefits of being able to read thoughts. She knew, almost before her subject did, where they were going and what they had to do. When all the information was available, evasion was simple. Even if she was spotted, she could easily plant a false image. She had even, on a recent case, planted the image in a police officer's mind that she was a detective on the same force, even though they had never met. The police officer trusted the image as his thought and revealed every detail of the case to her. She hated to do that, but sometimes, it was necessary.
Kelley stepped out into the hall and proceeded down a long corridor. She could feel the doctor near, but she couldn't quite get a fix on him. There were so many different patients on this floor, it was hard to single out an individual person, but she trusted her instincts. Turning the corner, she zeroed in on her target. Glancing to her left, she spotted a small cart and smiled. Quickly moving to it, she grabbed a piece of paper and a pen off of it.
Dr. Rhys David pulled off his jacket and slung it onto one of the arms of a nearby coatrack. Stretching his arms out wide, he arched his back, feeling it pop twice. He rolled his head forward, then back as he tried to stifle a yawn. He hated graveyard shifts. If they were more regular on the schedule, they probably wouldn't be so bad, but as a physician, he lacked that certainty.
He patted his hands against the slicked back hair on the sides of his head. He wanted to make sure he hadn't upset it when he took off his coat. Slowly moving down his face, he felt slight stubble on his cheeks. He thought momentarily about shaving, but then decided against it. Tonight, he would just have to go with the rugged look. He hated to do that, as it was his experience that patients were often more trusting of a doctor that was well groomed and dressed, but at the moment, he just didn't care. This was supposed to be his night off after all. He'd even had reservations at one of the harder to get into restaurants downtown and had to cancel at the last moment. He shook his head and smiled a crooked smile. This was his chosen profession. He would have to make sacrifices.
Moving to a bank of lockers in the small dressing room, he stepped in front of the second to the left. Reaching down, he popped it open and browsed over the inventory. Several personal effects sat on the second shelf, while two of the standard white smocks hung beneath. He began to reach in as he heard the dressing room door creak open. "James," he said without looking, "you're late." He turned to see a lovely blonde woman standing in the open door with a quizzical look on her face. "Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you were someone else."
