CHAPTER 7
Nate Garrett
I found myself sat on the wet lawn of an old thatched cottage. The door had been painted white at some point, although it was now peeling, as if the elements had been battering it for so long it had given up the pretense of perfection.
I appeared to be in the middle of nowhere. Apart from a small stream that ran beside the house, and snowcapped mountains in the distance, everything as far as I could see was empty heathland.
A man who looked just like me opened the cottage door and stepped outside. “It’s been a while,” Erebus said. “I thought that maybe you’d forgotten I was here.”
“I’m stronger,” I told him. “It takes more for me to come to see you now.”
“I know, I was just making conversation. Only one mark to go. Well, two marks, yes, but only one I can see. Who knows what’s behind that door?”
“I need your help.”
“I know. I’m you, remember.”
“Still weird. Even after all these years, it’s still weird.”
“I imagine it is, yes.”
“I need you to take control of me and use my necromancy to separate Irkalla from this other spirit. There’s a . . . darkness that has snared Irkalla’s spirit.”
“And you can’t do this by yourself?”
“I’m stronger, but not strong enough.”
“Even with the fifth blood-curse mark’s disappearance? That boosted your power by a considerable amount.”
“Yes, my sorcery, but my necromancy isn’t as powerful. I assume if I accept you and you take control of my body, that knowledge will be unlocked, but as I can’t do that until all of the marks have vanished, I need your help.”
“You’ve finally accepted that I am not the enemy?”
I sighed and nodded. Since time was different here, there was no need to hurry. However long the conversation with Erebus lasted, only a few seconds would have passed in the real world. Yet another thing that takes some getting used to.
“Yes. I don’t know how nightmares genuinely work. I don’t understand why you’re here, or if you’re unusual. Are all nightmares like you? Do all of them take the form of the host and have chats with them? There’s literally an entire ocean of knowledge I don’t have, but Grayson says you’re safe, and Mordred has been telling me that his nightmare saved his life, so I’m having a little faith. Over the last decade I’ve realized nightmares are not the monsters we were warned against. I don’t think you’re the creature we should fear. I think you’re something sorcerers are meant to accept to move onto another level of power.”
“Took you long enough,” Erebus said with a sly smile.
“Yes, well, when someone tells the world for thousands of years that something is bad, I tend to trust that information.”
“And you think I can take control of your body and use your necromancy to help Irkalla?”
“I hope so. Because if you can’t, and I can’t figure out a way to do it, she’ll die. She can’t stay trapped like that indefinitely, and I have no knowledge about what it is that’s trapped her.”
“Yes, you do. You know exactly what it is. You know how it’s created. You forget that there’s knowledge in your head you don’t have access to.”
“I don’t understand. I thought the only knowledge trapped in my head was about the first eight years of my life. Why would an eight-year-old know about complex necromancy?”
“Not like that. You honestly want to know what I am? It’s the only way you’re going to save Irkalla.”
I didn’t hesitate: “Yes.”
He walked over to me and pushed his hand against my chest. I gasped and dropped to my knees, fighting for breath. I looked up at Erebus and noticed the arm he’d used to touch me was faded, almost transparent.
“What the hell?” I managed.
“The nightmare is knowledge and power. We give the knowledge and power to the sorcerer when they’re ready. Your blood-curse marks stop me from passing on the knowledge and power, but every time you lose a part, you get a little more of them both inside of you. And I gain access to a little bit more of the information placed inside your head, information I can give you. And when you’re finally ready for all of what I am, I’ll vanish and you’ll be whole.”
“Your arm.”
Erebus glanced where his arm used to be and shrugged. “You now have part of the knowledge contained inside of me. Eventually I will fade away. All nightmares operate in this way, but I am unlike almost any other nightmare in existence. There are others who have nightmares like me, but not many.”
“Mordred?”
“I can’t say for certain—I’m not in his head—but based on the knowledge in your mind, I’d say it’s likely.”
I got back to my feet. “So how long before I know whatever you just unlocked in my head?”
“A few moments. I don’t think it’s going to work like you believe it does.”
“Just be straight with me. For once. You’ve unlocked stuff in my head, but you clearly must already know that information, so just tell me what it is.”
Erebus smiled. “This is like when you learned how to mix your elemental magic. You’re the one who has to learn it, and once you do, we can talk about it.”
“And what do I have to learn?”
Erebus began to fade, and I reached out for him, but he’d already turned to mist.
“Hello, Nathanial,” a female voice behind me said.
I turned and found myself unable to speak as my mum stood before me. She had long chestnut hair, pale skin, and blue eyes that were a similar shade to my own. She was shorter than me by several inches and wore a simple green dress that stretched down to her bare feet. Several gold and silver rings sat on the fingers of each hand, and a tattoo of a serpent stretched from her left shoulder, down her naked arm, stopping just above her wrist. The other arm had several runes tattooed onto it. A few years ago I unlocked the first memory I had of my mother. Of her leaving me to have the blood-curse marks placed on my body, before I was taken to Camelot.
“Nathanial, I assume you have questions.”
“What the fuck is this?”
My mother paused. “I am a mental construct. A message left when you were born and Erebus was created inside of you. Your father left a similar message but . . .” She paused for a few seconds. “You don’t have access to that information, so I can tell you no more about him. He did love you, though. We both did. We weren’t meant to, but we did.”
“What the hell does that even mean?”
“This is a message based on responses to questions I assumed you’d ask, as well as information about various aspects of your life that you might need answers to. I can’t tell you anything I didn’t know when you were born, and I can’t give you access to information that Erebus doesn’t have access to. I’m here because your father and I wanted to leave something for you to remember us. Because we wanted you to understand why we did what we did, and why you were never given the life you deserved.”
“I understand exactly nothing that’s going on.” Irritation had started to creep into my voice, but I forced it aside. “Start at the beginning, and work forward.”
“You are my son, Nathanial Garrett.” She paused again. “You are unaware of your last name.”
“I’m what?”
She took a step forward and smiled, reaching out for my hands. “My boy. My son. There’s so much I want to tell you, but I’ve been informed that this information doesn’t work like that. So, I get to put something personal in here before the information is relayed to you. I love you. I want you to know that. I have no way of telling how old you are, or what you’ve become, but I love you. I always loved you, and even though I had to give you up to Merlin, I still loved you.”
She placed her hand against the side of my cheek, and I felt a lump catch in my throat.
“This isn’t real,” I said. “Not really. This is essentially a mental hologram. The magical equivalent of a computer program. Even so, I have a lot of questions for you. Can you answer any of them?”
“Some, maybe,” she told me, removing her hand. “Mostly I’m just here to tell you what I can. And then I’m gone.”
“Forever?”
She nodded. “This is a onetime-only deal. Once I’ve imparted this information, I’m no longer needed.”
“I’m not sure that’s the phrase I’d use.”
I stared at my mother for several seconds. It was strange; my head should have been filled with questions fighting for the same space. I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. One question remained in the front of my mind. “Why was I created?”
“You were created in a similar ritual as that used to create the seven devils.”
“The what?”
“Thousands of years before you were born, seven people were created. I’m unsure exactly how it happened, or why, but they were called the seven devils. Weapons of war to use against the enemies of their creator.”
“I was born to be a weapon?”
My mother nodded. “That was the original plan, yes. But unlike the seven devils, you were to be brought up by your parents. Unfortunately things changed and you had to go to Merlin.”
“There was a war?”
“When you were born, we all knew that a Norse pantheon civil war was on the horizon. I made a pact with Merlin that once the war began he would keep you safe. I was concerned that you’d be dragged into it. You were sent to Merlin to be hidden and trained. Those marks were placed on you to ensure you didn’t access power you had no hope to control. You were meant to unlock them as needed.”
“It took me sixteen hundred years to unlock the first one.”
“That was not the intention. Something must have gone wrong with the process. I’m sorry.”
Despite how sad and sympathetic she sounded, I forced myself to remember that the woman in front of me was merely a construct and only had clinical answers to questions. Even so, having my mother sound dismissive about what had happened to me stung a little. “So, what else do you have to tell me?”
“A lot,” she said. “I was a Valkyrie, and like all of my kind, I could use the spirits of those who had died in battle. Spirit weapons are used by all necromancers, but Valkyrie can channel the spirits we take to increase our physical attributes. We can also manipulate those spirits in other ways.”
“Are you saying a Valkyrie put a”—a phrase popped into my head—“spirit snare on Irkalla?”
“Not necessarily a Valkyrie, but you know the term—that is good. It means the information is bleeding into your mind. We cannot place traps, which would have been done by a truly powerful necromancer. But we can manipulate the spirits of those who died in battle, and not just absorb them.”
“I can try to remove the snare?”
“It would take a great deal of power on your part, but you could absorb both souls into yourself and then try to untangle them. I’ve done it myself. A word of warning, though: if you get it wrong, you will kill your friend.”
“And if I do nothing, she’ll die anyway.”
“Yes. It is not an easy decision to make.”
“Anything else?”
My mother’s eyes softened again, and a smile spread over her lips. “My son, I assume all of the information I was to give you is currently being absorbed by your brain. I wish I could teach you so much, I wish I could stay here and tell you everything about who you are, and who you were born to be, but I can’t. Do not trust Hera—she is a snake, the same with her people.”
“Yeah, I got that one already.”
“I hope that I’m still alive out there somewhere, and that one day we’ll meet. You should know that the Valkyrie weren’t a species; we’re just necromancers with an unusual power quirk that makes us both incredibly powerful, and limited. Odin used the Valkyries to lay waste to his enemies. He was a great ruler, but I have no way of knowing if the war that threatened to consume the Norse gods is still raging on. And I have no way of knowing if any of my sisters are still alive, but if you can find them, they will help you. And if I’m alive, they will help you find me.”
She began to fade, and I took a step toward her. “I will find you,” I promised, and she vanished a moment later.
I stood and stared at the spot where my mother had been as Erebus appeared beside me. “A lot to take in?”
“She told me things I didn’t know, about you. All sorcerers have nightmares—that’s well known—but people like Mordred and I aren’t normal sorcerers. Aren’t normal anything. So, you’re not a normal nightmare. Were you created as a separate entity and placed inside of me? Did you merge with the nightmare who was already there?”
“Sort of.”
“Explain.”
“Later. You need to save your friend. Time isn’t infinite here, and sooner or later you’ll be forced back into your world.”
“Are you going to take control of me? Use my power better than I can?”
“No, you can do this without my intervention. We both know that. You’re down to your last physical mark, so I’m not sure whether asking me to take control is a good idea. Once a nightmare takes full control, you’re going to be out of it for a long time, and if I do this now, you’ll be of no use to anyone. You can’t risk the mark vanishing as I take control. Not now.”
It wasn’t the response I’d been expecting. “Who are the seven devils? My mother mentioned I was created in the same way, but I’ve never heard of them.”
Erebus laughed. “You always were persistent. Of course you have. Everyone with even a passing knowledge of pop culture will know of them. There are a thousand movies, films, video games, TV shows, and books about them. They’re everywhere. You probably know them better as the seven Princes of Hell.”
I was about to say something else when I was dumped out of my mind and back to reality. Everyone stared at me as I blinked several times before trying to sit up.
“How long was I gone?” I asked.
“You fell to the floor about four seconds ago,” Remy said. “What happened?”
I got back to my feet. “Long story, but I think I know how to separate Irkalla from whoever this guy is. I’m going to need power. A lot of power. I’m also going to need all of you to leave.”
There were some odd looks exchanged around the room. “You sure?” Grayson asked.
I nodded.
“You okay?” Remy asked. “I’ve got to go help Mordred find Elaine while you lie about on the floor. Tommy, Nabu, Zamek, and Morgan left to go help with the injured. I stayed behind to make sure you didn’t blow up or something.”
I smiled. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. Be careful. Don’t go losing any more lives.”
Remy chuckled. “Thanks for killing me, by the way. Probably saved me months of pain and suffering. I know it must have been hard to do.”
“It’s everyone’s dream.”
Remy laughed. “Fuck you, Nate. Be careful out there. I don’t want to have to console Tommy; he’s weepy enough as it is.”
It was my turn to laugh as Remy left the room, and I found myself alone with Irkalla, Grayson, and Selene.
“You two need to go,” I said.
Selene came over and kissed me on the lips. “Don’t do anything too stupid.”
“Would I?”
“Every single day,” she said with a slight grin. “Bring Irkalla back to us.”
I watched her leave and started opening the silver freezer drawers, pulling out each of the trays as I went, revealing the dead they contained. I was three drawers in when I noticed that Grayson was still in the room.
“We need to have a chat when we’re done here,” I told him. “I want to know why you knew about the nightmares and never said anything. I’d also like to know how you were around in what I assume was at least ten thousand years ago.”
“I’ll tell you everything you want to know, but not now. We can’t have distractions while people are getting hurt.”
“Okay, but soon.”
He helped me to open the rest of the freezers and drag the bodies out on their trays.
“You should go,” I said.
He patted me on the back, and I watched him leave before activating my shadow magic. Tendrils of shadow shot up from the floor, wrapping around the dead bodies and dragging them into the now-shadow-covered floor. The effect took mere seconds as burst after burst of power flooded my body.
I placed a hand on the nearby wall to steady myself as power coursed through me. It took me a few seconds, but when I was settled, I reached out with my necromancy and saw Irkalla’s spirit trapped in the spirit snare once again. But this time instead of the usual brightness I saw in most spirits, Irkalla’s was a beautiful orange and golden color. I reached out for Irkalla’s spirit, but when I tried to pull it away, the dark-red and black mass tightened its grip.
I released my power from Irkalla and reached out to the snare. Despite the newfound level of knowledge about my necromancy, knowing something and being able to actually do it are two different things. Magic isn’t a science—it’s about power, patience, and sheer will. And when it came right down to it, necromancy was just a different form of magic, albeit one that most sorcerers were incapable of wielding.
I stepped toward the body of the attacker and pushed my hands out in front of me. My spirit began to leave my body, and for a split second I panicked and the light-blue and purple spirit almost rushed back into me before it made contact with the snare, but I managed to catch my emotions and forge onward.
Being in control of both my body and spirit at the same time was a strange sensation, a bit like rubbing your head while patting your belly, or the other way around. There was a steep learning curve to this type of power use, and I didn’t have time to practice. I either got it right the first time, or Irkalla, and possibly I, would die. No pressure or anything.
My spirit was still tethered to my body when it touched the snare, and I felt a jolt of pain, as if I’d hit a sword on stone and felt the vibrations run up my body. I pushed it aside, and my spirit began to expand. Blue and purple light wrapped around the snare as Irkalla’s own spirit cascaded over mine, mixing together.
Memories flashed into my head. Irkalla discovering that her friend had been murdered by Siris, finding her friend’s body, along with those of her friend’s family. The rage that followed was something to truly fear, as Irkalla destroyed anyone who got between her and the target of her vengeance. She’d told me that Siris had murdered someone she’d cared for, but the depth of pain and suffering Irkalla had gone through felt like a shotgun blast to my heart.
Other images, of Nergal and Gilgamesh—the latter now dead, and the former now an enemy—and of Nanshe, an old friend to us both, came to me quickly without pause, until the second my spirit had completely encompassed the snare, and then there was nothing but darkness.
There were no memories in the man, no hopes or fears, no feels, no nothing. Whatever had once been there had been replaced with a void. But somewhere inside there was a voice. It was small and barely audible, but I pushed my spirit further, crushing the snare and pushing it further and further away from Irkalla’s spirit, forcing the two apart.
The voice began to come through louder and louder, but it was muffled and I couldn’t quite hear what it was shouting. I continued on, desperate to snuff the snare from existence. Smothering it seemed like the only way to remove Irkalla from its grasp, but the constant muffled cry was beginning to feel like I had a jackhammer going inside of my skull.
A wave of nausea hit me, and I crashed to my knees, fighting against the snare as it tried to stop me from destroying it. The muffled voice became louder and louder until I screamed in pure incandescent rage as I fought against the snare. And then, without warning, the snare vanished. I fell to the floor, panting and sweating from near exhaustion.
I looked over at Irkalla and willed her to move. For several seconds I was certain I was too late, until her eyes opened and she stared at me. “That wasn’t fun,” she said, her voice low and full of pain.
I nodded. I couldn’t find any words to use.
“Did you hear it?” she asked me.
I nodded again. “The voice,” I managed.
“I couldn’t make out what it was saying. It was the man’s memory, his one final memory that couldn’t quite be destroyed by what had been done to him. Do you know what the memory said?”
Right at the end I’d heard the voice clear as day. It had been one word screamed into my skull. “Abaddon.”