III | The Shadow, the Siren, and the Sage-1
572 Words
III | The Shadow, the Siren, and the SageIt was a night for dreaming and for murder too, a night that would live in infamy or be celebrated for a thousand years, a night which lay over the Witch Doctor’s complex like a crisp, black linen. It was also a night for destruction, and for the holding down of triggers, for the flames to flow like water over everything he had ever known and the past to blacken and curl upon itself like so much burning paper. It was, in short, a night for monumental change—and for everything to stay the same—depending on the actions (and the fortune) of a few; a night in which the fates of many would hang in the balance, while the fates of five would be sealed—Chairman Kill-sin and Sister Samain, Jasper, Jeremiah, Satyena—a night that would decide everything from whether the Witch Doctors or the witches (but preferably neither) would at last be dominant to whether there would even be another generation to tell the tale. It was a night through which Jeremiah moved like a wraith—having watched the last of the War Wagons depart with its red lights flashing and its music of yesteryear playing—until he came to the center of the complex ... and paused, for it was from this very spot that he would raze everything to the ground. Nor had he stood for long before Jasper’s voice whispered into his ear—but really his mind—saying, simply, Burn it, Jeremiah. Do not hesitate; show no mercy.
But he did hesitate, if only for an instant. For the truth of it was he felt a sense of comfort here he had not felt since the raid on Satyena’s coven. Indeed, here was the very heart of the place’s psychical energy—something he was aware of only because of the third eye Satyena had somehow opened in his mind. Here was where the lines of force met—the witches called them ley lines, he somehow knew—where the wings of the complex nearly converged, and where he had taken his oath to uphold the Pogrom and all that it represented. But then the moment passed, and he squeezed the trigger: unleashing a stream of fire as well as an explosive projectile—which punched through one of the armory’s windows and caused white light to flash blindingly—after which he backed away quickly and began to methodically shoot charges into all the remaining buildings, knowing, as Jasper did, that the blasts from the armory (and their falling embers) would do most of the work ... but wanting to make sure, regardless.
Good, said Jasper into his ear. Now, quickly, move onto the east lawn and look up, above the cliff face. You should see an antenna farm and several aircraft warning lights; align yourself with them and continue forward, until you come to the base of the—
A series of enormous explosions rocked the grounds and Jeremiah hit the deck, pieces of glass and other debris raining down upon him, pattering his shoulders. Thump! Ka-thump! Thump!
Now it is too late to turn back, he thought to himself, and wondered if Satyena, wherever she was, were laboring under the same yoke: the yoke of wanting to destroy a thing while at the same time yearning (paradoxically) for its embrace. Then he was up and running, running for the base of the cliff, wanting to look back and yet too terrified to do so, a Bible quote from one of Kill-sin’s sermons echoing in his ear: But Lot’s wife looked back, and she became a pillar of salt.
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