Chapter 14 Declan #2
“Look, I have no love for the council. They think they’re still one of the big three, but they aren’t.
They swing their weight around and make a mess of things, but everyone knows a deity’s temple is his best kept secret.
I know about it because I’m in the business of finding things.
I’m willing to bet the council doesn’t know where this location is either.
What do you say, you and I come to a deal, and no one needs to tell the council where they can find you and our buddy Sucellus? Huh?”
Sloan glanced from me to Veronica, looking like a squirrel trapped in a cage. He fiddled with a jeweled pin holding his toga in place, a flitting movement that showed how anxious the guy was. Finally, he made a low sound deep in his throat—frustration as well as acceptance.
“What do you want to know?” He finally said, letting his hands drop to his sides.
“The Freedman family. Is there a connection to Sucellus, and if so, what is it?”
The priest heaved a sigh. “Oh, good. At least it’s something I know about. No need to consult the books.”
I blinked in surprise and glanced at Veronica, who looked equally puzzled.
“Don’t look so shocked,” Sloan said miserably.
“Lord Sucellus has…well, he has so few adherents these days, that those of great note are easy to remember.
The Freedmans were a very poor sharecropping family in Georgia.
Freed from slavery after the American Civil War, they struggled, scratching a living in the dirt, until one day, in 1910, a visitor arrived on their property.
A man clad in rags and covered in filth.
The man asks for a meal and a place to sleep that night.
Mrs. Freedman and her husband allowed the man their hospitality, even gave him their own bed, choosing instead to sleep in the barn to be good hosts.
“The next morning, he revealed himself to the whole family for what he was, the ancient god Sucellus, and transformed into a form both glorious and terrifying. When the Freedmans and their five children laid eyes on the man, shimmering with preternatural light, clad in gold and jewels, hovering a few feet off the ground, they were awestruck. Who wouldn’t be?
” he said with a shrug. “He would have looked glorious. It was very different from his rage form. That is an eldritch and horrifying sight I wouldn’t wish on anyone.
Anyway, he offered them a gift for their hospitality.
Sucellus said that if they bowed down and worshipped him, took him as their god, he would bestow upon them riches, knowledge, and powers unlike any they could imagine, and it would travel down the generations as long as they remained devout followers and made offerings.
“The entire family fell to their knees before him, praising him. Lord Sucellus basked in the power of their devotion and kept his word. The family was given more than they could ever have dreamed. Within a year, they’d turned the small farm into an empire, eventually moving north with the money they made.
The children went to college, and some even developed the ability to use magic.
Balthazar Freedman was the last male of the line, and his mastery of magic, while of his own making is, in part, a remnant of the gift Sucellus bestowed on his family.
“We heard of his death,” he added, bowing his head. “Lord Sucellus always held the Freedman family in high regard.”
True.
“Holy shit,” Veronica muttered.
I had to agree. I couldn’t imagine what it must have been like back then. No knowledge of the magical world, barely scraping by, and one day a fucking god shows up on your doorstep and offers you the moon? It would be difficult for anyone to say no to that.
“I need a ledger of all the living adherents of Sucellus. Any followers he has. I know you keep records,” I said.
Sloan opened his mouth to say something, possibly to tell me to go fuck myself, but then he pressed his lips together into a thin line and turned on a heel, stalking toward an ornate chest on the farthest side of the room.
“Here,” he said, shoving a thin notebook into my hands.
It was much smaller than I’d anticipated. I knew Sucellus’s power and influence was on the downswing, but this was ridiculous.
“Anything else?” Sloan said, his voice tinged with annoyance and anger.
“I don’t think so,” I said.
“Then leave.” He crossed his arms and nodded to the door.
“No need to be rude,” Veronica said as I led her toward the exit.
Ignoring us, Sloan went to a golden altar and began lighting candles. The last thing we heard was his murmured prayers.
At the door, I paused, placing my hand on the handle. Two shadowy figures stood near my car. A sudden and inexplicable sense of dread, confusion, and fear settled into my bones. My hand twitched, wanting to go for the gun under my arm.
“What’s wrong?” Veronica asked, looking at my hand, the knuckles white as I gripped the door handle.
“When we go outside, go right. Don’t run, just walk. Don’t look back, don’t say anything. Understand?”
She looked at my face, anxious terror in her eyes. “Uh…okay.”
“There’s an alley between this building and the next,” I said, pushing the door open. “That’s where we go.”
Nodding, she stepped out behind me. No sooner had we stepped out onto the sidewalk than the two men by the car moved to approach us, their faces hidden in the shadows.
“Evening,” one of them called, his tone deep and jovial. A friendly voice in the night, hoping to put us at ease. “Hang on a second, friend.”
“No thanks,” I called back, ushering Veronica. “I’m happy with my current cell phone carrier.”
The man chuckled. “Funny guy, huh?”
“No really.” I put my hand on Veronica’s back, leaning down to whisper to her. “Can you fight? Magic, I mean?”
She nodded, her body quaking beneath my hand. “I’ve figured out several defensive and offensive spells.”
“We might need them,” I said.
“Why don’t you two hang on a second,” the man called again. “We need to talk to you.”
Lie. They didn’t want to talk. My enchanted pistol sat under my arm, and I could almost feel it begging to be used.
On my ankle, another smaller revolver sat in a hidden holster, equally enchanted but of a lower caliber.
On my hip, I carried a third weapon—not a pistol, but something that might work even better against what I thought these guys were.
I couldn’t reach for any yet, not until we rounded the corner.
I pushed gently at Veronica’s back, picking up the pace.
Behind us, the two men’s footsteps grew quicker and louder.
“They’re witches,” Veronica hissed. “I can smell them. Maybe sorcerers or warlocks, I’m not sure, but definitely magic users.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” I said. “Get ready.” When the corner was ten feet away, I patted her shoulder. “GO!”
We sprinted and swung into the alley, Veronica in front, me in the back.
I heard a heavy whoosh behind us, and a blast of energy slammed into the brick wall, shattering the blocks and sending a spray of dust and mortar into the side of my face.
I jerked away, grabbing my gun and joining Veronica in the alley.
She stood there, legs wide, hands out, brow furrowed in concentration.
I dived aside, rolling out of the way. A blue dome appeared above both of us.
A second later, the two men appeared, both casting spells in our direction.
A red electric bolt and what looked like a solid jet of blue flame.
The magical blasts slammed into the dome Veronica had created.
It stopped the magic, but disintegrated under the impact.
Rolling to a knee, I raised my gun and fired at a slim, muscular bald man. My aim was true, but the man had impeccable reflexes. He conjured a glowing hole in the air between us. The bullet passed through and vanished as the hole shrank to nothing. A portal.
The other man, a dark-skinned witch with his hair braided tight against his head, threw both his hands out toward Veronica. Semi-translucent ropes flew toward her.
She threw up a hand, sending a golden arc of sparks out that cut the magical ropes in half before they could wrap around her. In a blink, she shifted into her wolf form and lunged at Braided Hair.
I wanted to make sure she was going to be okay, but Bald Guy was running toward me.
I fired the gun twice more. One bullet went wild, pinging off the concrete ground, but the second flew right at the guy’s face.
He snapped his fingers, and the bullet looped around his head and shot straight back toward me, burying itself in the asphalt two inches from my calf.
“Holy fuck,” I cried, jumping back.
The sounds of Veronica’s growling and snapping teeth, along with the zap and crackle of magic, filled the small alley. I tore my second pistol from the ankle holster, and rose to my feet, blasting with both guns, sending off four quick shots.
Bald Guy raised his hands, creating some kind of forcefield before him, similar to what Veronica had tried to create back at the academy.
His version was perfect, and caught all four bullets.
In a flash he reached out, grabbed the bullets from the air, crushing them in his grip while murmuring a spell, then threw them back at me.
What returned was a sharp arrowhead. The thing slammed into my shoulder, spinning me in place, my first pistol went flying, clattering on the ground as I tumbled backward, pain lancing through my arm and collarbone.
Clenching my teeth, I raised my remaining gun and fired at his feet. That caught him off guard, and I struck him, though in my pain my aim was off. Instead of blowing his ankle to bits, it grazed his shin. It was enough. He howled in pain and fell to the ground, clutching the wound.