living with a monster would make you embrace the darkness. Yet you run into the light like everyone else.”
“What do you want from me? Who are you?”
You can call me Necron, a silky voice whispered in her head. She could feel the man’s presence in her mind, a foreign parasite tainting her thoughts with darkness. Were there any limits to his powers? Had Necron probed her memories perhaps, gaining access to her vision of the Manchester Line? Is that how he knew to bring her to this forsaken station hundreds of feet below the earth? And had he perhaps conjured the bedroom nightmare too? She wondered with growing anxiety if this moment might be a continuation of the nightmare.
Is any of this real?
Necron responded to the mental question, this time using his voice. “What is reality but a collection of smoke and mirrors to keep us from asking those questions to which we don’t want the answers? A house of cards meant to distract us from the inevitability of our own mortality. There’s only one absolute truth in this world: Everything that lives must die. Rich or poor, good or bad, death awaits us all. The solution isn’t to fear it but to embrace the inevitable. And by doing so, you conquer man’s greatest fear and learn to control its power.”
The words were those of a madman. A madman who could read thoughts and cast spells.
“What do you want from me?” Rhianna asked, doing her best to control her fear.
“Answers, my dear. The grimoire spoke to you, and I want to know the secrets it whispered in your ears.”
Rhianna was beginning to understand. The visions were clues, guideposts pointing toward the missing third book. Pointing them toward the underground temple…
A smile curled Necron’s lips. “I see you’re beginning to understand. Very good.”
“What are you going to do with that book?”
“Change the world.” His chilling smile held a horrific promise. “Come now, it’s time we made our way to the temple.”
The fact that Necron knew about the temple made her wonder if he had scanned her mind for this information or if the grimoire had spoken to him too.
How do you expect to find the temple ? Rhianna wondered.
“The dead will guide us,” Necron said, responding to her thought. Every time the mage probed her mind, it felt like cold, clammy fingers brushing through her memories, the sense of violation absolute. “Restless spirits haunt these tunnels. The suicides, the homeless, the lost and the broken. The damned souls who crawled into the bowels of this city never to be seen again. They linger, unable to move on, but they’re more than willing to tell their stories. They will show us the way.”
It was all coming together in Rhianna’s mind. A cabal of super-wealthy occultists had been the custodians of the two grimoires Necron was after. Archer’s great-great grandfather must’ve been one of them, which would explain why the second book had been hidden in the iron maiden his descendant had loaned to the museum.
The mere thought of the privileged elite dragging down their hapless victims into the city’s catacombs sickened Rhianna. Down here these monsters would board a private subway car— the ultimate symbol of their elevated status—that would take them to their infernal place of worship. And what for? Why shed innocent blood when they already possessed everything? Maybe this world deserved to be conquered by men such as Cael or Necron.
Rhianna choked back her physical revulsion and stepped into the subway car. Resistance was useless. For the time being she had to play along and give Necron what he wanted.
Unlike the perfectly maintained train from her vision, this subway car had seen better days. Time had taken its toll. The walls were cracked, the gilded handlebars blackened. A thick layer of dust caked the armchairs and couches. She stifled a cough, the stale air raking her lungs.
The doors slid shut. Necron’s gaze remained riveted on her as the
“What do you want from me? Who are you?”
You can call me Necron, a silky voice whispered in her head. She could feel the man’s presence in her mind, a foreign parasite tainting her thoughts with darkness. Were there any limits to his powers? Had Necron probed her memories perhaps, gaining access to her vision of the Manchester Line? Is that how he knew to bring her to this forsaken station hundreds of feet below the earth? And had he perhaps conjured the bedroom nightmare too? She wondered with growing anxiety if this moment might be a continuation of the nightmare.
Is any of this real?
Necron responded to the mental question, this time using his voice. “What is reality but a collection of smoke and mirrors to keep us from asking those questions to which we don’t want the answers? A house of cards meant to distract us from the inevitability of our own mortality. There’s only one absolute truth in this world: Everything that lives must die. Rich or poor, good or bad, death awaits us all. The solution isn’t to fear it but to embrace the inevitable. And by doing so, you conquer man’s greatest fear and learn to control its power.”
The words were those of a madman. A madman who could read thoughts and cast spells.
“What do you want from me?” Rhianna asked, doing her best to control her fear.
“Answers, my dear. The grimoire spoke to you, and I want to know the secrets it whispered in your ears.”
Rhianna was beginning to understand. The visions were clues, guideposts pointing toward the missing third book. Pointing them toward the underground temple…
A smile curled Necron’s lips. “I see you’re beginning to understand. Very good.”
“What are you going to do with that book?”
“Change the world.” His chilling smile held a horrific promise. “Come now, it’s time we made our way to the temple.”
The fact that Necron knew about the temple made her wonder if he had scanned her mind for this information or if the grimoire had spoken to him too.
How do you expect to find the temple ? Rhianna wondered.
“The dead will guide us,” Necron said, responding to her thought. Every time the mage probed her mind, it felt like cold, clammy fingers brushing through her memories, the sense of violation absolute. “Restless spirits haunt these tunnels. The suicides, the homeless, the lost and the broken. The damned souls who crawled into the bowels of this city never to be seen again. They linger, unable to move on, but they’re more than willing to tell their stories. They will show us the way.”
It was all coming together in Rhianna’s mind. A cabal of super-wealthy occultists had been the custodians of the two grimoires Necron was after. Archer’s great-great grandfather must’ve been one of them, which would explain why the second book had been hidden in the iron maiden his descendant had loaned to the museum.
The mere thought of the privileged elite dragging down their hapless victims into the city’s catacombs sickened Rhianna. Down here these monsters would board a private subway car— the ultimate symbol of their elevated status—that would take them to their infernal place of worship. And what for? Why shed innocent blood when they already possessed everything? Maybe this world deserved to be conquered by men such as Cael or Necron.
Rhianna choked back her physical revulsion and stepped into the subway car. Resistance was useless. For the time being she had to play along and give Necron what he wanted.
Unlike the perfectly maintained train from her vision, this subway car had seen better days. Time had taken its toll. The walls were cracked, the gilded handlebars blackened. A thick layer of dust caked the armchairs and couches. She stifled a cough, the stale air raking her lungs.
The doors slid shut. Necron’s gaze remained riveted on her as the
Similar Books
