NaNo Post- Chapter 14
Nov. 14th, 2010 09:53 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
realsorienAnd another done. I'm more than half done with chapter 15 too, so that may appear tonight sometime before I go to work. Wordcount is now 35,541, but that counts the work on Chapter 15.
Ranah didn’t quite react like either Bierce or Ames expected. She giggled.
“... Are you all right?”
“Yeah. I’ve just never been a weakness for a bad guy before!”
She got herself under control, then sat on the table. “So I’m Kryptonite. How does that work on Piper?”
Bierce shook his head, while Ames fought a smile. “That would depend on you. He will come after you again; that’s inevitable. We can either try to sequester you and protect you, or...”
“Or what?”
Ames shrugged. “We carry on as we have, and hope for the best. Piper has disturbing resources, but there are limits.”
“How do you figure?”
“Well, Billy,” he grinned, “he hit Limbo One and cleared everyone out. Why not use a similar technique on the cathedral? Logic concludes he didn’t because he cannot.”
“Hm. Yeah, and he KNEW St. Johns, or should have, being he’d been Bishop there.”
“I think... We need to know just what was going on at Limbo, and who was taken.”
“And what Piper was after in the Cathedral.”
“And that. God, I hope something turns up in Piper’s papers. We’re at that ugly spot where we need a break. Any break.”
At that moment there was a very odd sound; very much like a pin being dropped in a silent room, only a thousand times louder. The chimelike sound echoed out, louder and louder until they were all covering their ears and crouching down in an instinctive, futile attempt to get away from it. Ranah thought she could hear screaming from somewhere, and she knew she was going to join whomever it was in moments. The door to the cells burst open, the sound increasing exponentially with the barrier’s removal- both the screaming and the sound came from the mercenary, Leon!
His eyes were simply gone. They looked to have exploded, and as she started screaming from the pain some part of her remained dispassionate, looking at the man-become-loudspeaker; his body was literally coming apart, and his bones, where they now shone through, were silvery metal. She tried to stay conscious, but...
Black.
Ames woke to sounds nearby, his ears barely able to distinguish what he was hearing through a painful, metallic ringing. He tried to move, but as yet his limbs didn’t want to obey him. The smell... Hot metal and blood and worse filled his nose, and he started coughing uncontrollably, the spasms curling him into a ball. Through it all, he listened at what little he could hear.
“Stop compressions. Clear!”
“No rhythm! Clear his airway!”
“Ready? Clear!” A vague beep made its way to Ames’ ears. “Rhythm! We got rhythm! Get oxygen on him and monitor, prep for transport.”
Ames tried to speak and just started coughing again.
“Easy.” The voice was quiet, but Ames realized the man was nearly yelling. “You’ll be okay. Don’t try to move. You’ve been subjected to massive overpressure effects.”
Ames blinked, and realized that his entire field of vision was tinted red. As he could see, he looked around... And immediately wished that he hadn’t.
Where had once been a human mercenary there was now... Meat. And metal. Something horrible had been done to Michel Leon; he’d been used as a weapon against Piper’s foes and died in the use. His body bore no resemblance to anything human anymore- what was left was what you’d see in the waste-pit at a stockyards. Ames turned away as quickly as he could.
When he opened his eyes again he realized that he’d passed out. His ears were still ringing, but now he could at least hear. He was in a hospital bed, and an intravenous feed ran from a bag on a stand to his arm. His vision was still tinted red, and that worried him; at least he knew his body was intact. He felt around and found the call button for the nurse and pressed it.
He’d partly expected it, but was still surprised when Victor Albion entered. However, the Apostle was not smiling. “So much for a vacation. How are you, Charles?”
“Sore.” He coughed a bit. “Do you know what happened?”
“I wish I didn’t. It was bad, Charles. Whatever was done to that men, when it started it killed all of the other men in the cells- guards and prisoners. He tore through the door of his cell, then made his way to the interrogation room where he died. The effect was lessening when he got to you, so you lived.”
“What about Bierce and Ranah?”
Victor sat down next to the bed. “Bierce is in ICU. He had severe intracranial bleeding and went into seizures. I’ll be going to him shortly; he’s stable, and I wanted to see you first.”
“She’s gone, isn’t she.”
Victor nodded. “No signs that she was harmed, but that effect immobilized everyone on that floor of the building and caused disruptions above and below as well. There was certainly enough confusion for an abduction.”
“Damn it. We were protecting her!”
“Charles. You are not god to do everything or to know all things. It happened. Your foe wanted her alive; thus she is still alive and you have the chance to save her. If he’d wanted to kill her, he had ample opportunity.”
Ames nodded, but the knot in his gut wasn’t going away. “Will Bierce be up for action?”
“I think... Probably. I can’t wipe the blood from inside his skull, but I can heal the damage and prevent further complications.”
“Good enough. Thank you, Victor.”
“It’s my path. Rest now.” He placed his hand on Ames’ forehead, and his touch quickly and gently healed the injuries. Moments later, Ames was asleep again.
The next day dawned bright, the sunlight shining into his room creating an almost cheerful counterpoint to the dark feelings that roiled within him. He dressed (someone had left him a set of informal clothes), then stepped out into the hall. At the nurses’ station he asked about Bierce.
“What is the relationship with the patient?”
“He’s my partner. I’m Confessor Ames.”
“Oh! I’m sorry. Under normal circumstances we control visits to approved guests and family.” She directed him to Bierce’s room.
He knocked, and entered upon hearing the faint invitation. Bierce was still in bed, and didn’t look well. “How are you feeling?”
Bierce looked at him, and he suspected that his eyes had the same horrible red coloration from burst capillaries. “Weak, and my head hurts.”
“Did they tell you what happened?”
“Apostle Albion did. I’m... Not quite fit at the moment. Is she okay?”
“We don’t know. But she’s likely alive. Have hope.”
Bierce started to sit up, but paled and fell back. “... Dammit.”
“Didn’t Victor heal you?”
“He did... But the bleeding was bad. The damage is gone, but... There’s still pressure. They may have to do something to relieve it.”
Ames rubbed his eyes. “God, I’m sorry Will.”
“Get her back.” It was almost a whisper.
“I’ll... Do that. You get well.”
“Soon as I can, Chuck.”
Ames started to growl a response, but Bierce was asleep again. He made a slight bow to his friend, then left the room.
The next while was interviews with police, comparing notes with what he’d seen as compared to them. As it turned out, one of the detectives hadn’t been rendered unconscious in the office area; he’d seen two men, one about fifty-ish and the other young and big carrying Ranah out through the fire door. She’d not looked injured beyond being unconscious. Both men had odd-looking stone plugs in their ears. Ames raised his eyebrows at THAT detail- that the man had picked up on it despite the noise trying to kill him impressed Ames greatly.
After meeting with the police he returned to St. John’s to report to Bishop Gerhardt. Within, things had changed; a good two dozen Confessors were there, some that he knew, some otherwise. And all of them looked grim. As he passed through the sanctuary, two men joined him- Johnson and Vincenz. He nodded to each in gratitude, and they soon were in the conference room with the Bishop.
“Gentlemen, please, be seated.”
When they were settled, Gerhardt took his own place at the head. He clasped his hands and bowed his head, the three with him following suit. “Lord, in this darkest of-”
Before he could continue, the door opened revealing the massive form of Pavel. “Forgive me, your Eminence.”
“Nothing to forgive. Please, join us.” He began again. “Lord, in this darkest of times please shine your light upon our endeavours to serve Your will, and protect and preserve the life of our lost companion, Ranah, who faces the darkness now alone. We are your servants, and ask Your compassionate guidance and wisdom. Amen.”
“Amen.” All four responded together.
“Now... You are all aware of what has transpired to this point; either by experience or by report. It started with the attempt on Ranah’s life, and today continues with her having been abducted. We have a puzzle with many pieces, and perhaps today, with God’s grace, we can start to assemble it. I am sorry to say that Confessor Bierce will not be able to join us; he is still in hospital. Apostle Albion also cannot join us at this juncture; he has offered his services to the New Jerusalem Police to ameliorate the damage inflicted on their personnel in the latest assault. If God is willing, his Gift will not be needed.
Pavel grunted. “Then let us be at this assembling.” Gerhardt nodded. “You’re all familiar with most of the pieces. I have found a few more, as did our absent friend Confessor Bierce. What Piper is after is the source of the Gifts. He believes if he can find it he can gain power of his own, and will be able to guide where such power appears in the future. He does have a backer, but That piece remains concealed.”
“Its secular,” Ames said, “and possessed of significant financial strength. I would guess its corporate in nature.”
“Reasonable. However, not terribly useful I’m afraid. Piper I suspect is not quite acting in his employer’s best interests. But... I know where to find the source.”
Every voice in the room shouted “WHAT?” At the same time, and Gerhardt winced. “DO control yourselves! I am not so old as to be deaf!”
Mumbled apologies made the rounds, and the Bishop continued. “Ever since Gifts began to appear, the Church held to the thought that this was the power of the Almighty given to Man as a blessing. However, for the first five hundred years there were no Gifts. And then in 541 AD, Gifts started to appear in the population with no regard to race, creed or culture. And that is when the Archangel Chaumiel disappeared.”
Vincenz looked at Gerhardt. “I thought that Chaumiel wasn’t considered real?”
“He isn’t. Wasn’t. However, a sufficiency of the evidence points to his reality. And likely of his binding by some agency on Earth. Who did that I don’t even want to speculate on. We have approximately five probable locations for where he is imprisoned. We aren’t going to act on that information until Ranah is back. No innocent falls to the likes of Piper on MY watch.”
It was Johnson’s turn to speak up. “But she was a thief; doesn’t that negate innocence?”
Ames slapped him on the back of the head. “No, idiot. Innocence isn’t action. Its being. And she is innocent.”
Johnson grimaced and rubbed the back of his head. “Okay. Yeah. That was stupid of me.”
Vincenz grinned. “It’s okay. We’re used to you Americans being slow.”
“That leaves us with finding Ranah. Fortunately, Piper isn’t the only one with access to ritual magic. And as there was some blood from her ears, we have a link.”
“Who will perform the ritual?” The question came from VIncenz.
“His name is Rabbi Ishmael. He’s an expert in the kabballah, and has agreed to assist. He’ll provide us with a method of tracing her.”
“Why not just locate her?”
“Because ritual links work both ways. If they notice that they’ve been scryed, they could strike back through the link. This way, it’s indirect. No link. Instead it should work like a compass, with Ranah being ‘north’, so to speak.”
Vincenz nodded. “When I get close enough I may be able to communicate with her. No promises, but I’ll do my best.”
“It is all we expect, my son.”
“What do you want me to do, your Eminence?”
Gerhardt raised an eyebrow. “Pavel? First, I want you to stop calling me that. Bishop or Sir is plenty enough for me. More, in fact. But I suspect nobody here would be comfortable calling me Erich. Second, you will go with the Confessors. Your pardon for my saying this, but you are an intimidating combat asset.”
Pavel grinned. “Intimidating. I can do that.”
“Rabbi Ishmael will have the tracer ready in a few hours. Remain here in the Cathedral until it is time. Until then, please enjoy my hospitality. And thank you all.”
Ranah didn’t quite react like either Bierce or Ames expected. She giggled.
“... Are you all right?”
“Yeah. I’ve just never been a weakness for a bad guy before!”
She got herself under control, then sat on the table. “So I’m Kryptonite. How does that work on Piper?”
Bierce shook his head, while Ames fought a smile. “That would depend on you. He will come after you again; that’s inevitable. We can either try to sequester you and protect you, or...”
“Or what?”
Ames shrugged. “We carry on as we have, and hope for the best. Piper has disturbing resources, but there are limits.”
“How do you figure?”
“Well, Billy,” he grinned, “he hit Limbo One and cleared everyone out. Why not use a similar technique on the cathedral? Logic concludes he didn’t because he cannot.”
“Hm. Yeah, and he KNEW St. Johns, or should have, being he’d been Bishop there.”
“I think... We need to know just what was going on at Limbo, and who was taken.”
“And what Piper was after in the Cathedral.”
“And that. God, I hope something turns up in Piper’s papers. We’re at that ugly spot where we need a break. Any break.”
At that moment there was a very odd sound; very much like a pin being dropped in a silent room, only a thousand times louder. The chimelike sound echoed out, louder and louder until they were all covering their ears and crouching down in an instinctive, futile attempt to get away from it. Ranah thought she could hear screaming from somewhere, and she knew she was going to join whomever it was in moments. The door to the cells burst open, the sound increasing exponentially with the barrier’s removal- both the screaming and the sound came from the mercenary, Leon!
His eyes were simply gone. They looked to have exploded, and as she started screaming from the pain some part of her remained dispassionate, looking at the man-become-loudspeaker; his body was literally coming apart, and his bones, where they now shone through, were silvery metal. She tried to stay conscious, but...
Black.
Ames woke to sounds nearby, his ears barely able to distinguish what he was hearing through a painful, metallic ringing. He tried to move, but as yet his limbs didn’t want to obey him. The smell... Hot metal and blood and worse filled his nose, and he started coughing uncontrollably, the spasms curling him into a ball. Through it all, he listened at what little he could hear.
“Stop compressions. Clear!”
“No rhythm! Clear his airway!”
“Ready? Clear!” A vague beep made its way to Ames’ ears. “Rhythm! We got rhythm! Get oxygen on him and monitor, prep for transport.”
Ames tried to speak and just started coughing again.
“Easy.” The voice was quiet, but Ames realized the man was nearly yelling. “You’ll be okay. Don’t try to move. You’ve been subjected to massive overpressure effects.”
Ames blinked, and realized that his entire field of vision was tinted red. As he could see, he looked around... And immediately wished that he hadn’t.
Where had once been a human mercenary there was now... Meat. And metal. Something horrible had been done to Michel Leon; he’d been used as a weapon against Piper’s foes and died in the use. His body bore no resemblance to anything human anymore- what was left was what you’d see in the waste-pit at a stockyards. Ames turned away as quickly as he could.
When he opened his eyes again he realized that he’d passed out. His ears were still ringing, but now he could at least hear. He was in a hospital bed, and an intravenous feed ran from a bag on a stand to his arm. His vision was still tinted red, and that worried him; at least he knew his body was intact. He felt around and found the call button for the nurse and pressed it.
He’d partly expected it, but was still surprised when Victor Albion entered. However, the Apostle was not smiling. “So much for a vacation. How are you, Charles?”
“Sore.” He coughed a bit. “Do you know what happened?”
“I wish I didn’t. It was bad, Charles. Whatever was done to that men, when it started it killed all of the other men in the cells- guards and prisoners. He tore through the door of his cell, then made his way to the interrogation room where he died. The effect was lessening when he got to you, so you lived.”
“What about Bierce and Ranah?”
Victor sat down next to the bed. “Bierce is in ICU. He had severe intracranial bleeding and went into seizures. I’ll be going to him shortly; he’s stable, and I wanted to see you first.”
“She’s gone, isn’t she.”
Victor nodded. “No signs that she was harmed, but that effect immobilized everyone on that floor of the building and caused disruptions above and below as well. There was certainly enough confusion for an abduction.”
“Damn it. We were protecting her!”
“Charles. You are not god to do everything or to know all things. It happened. Your foe wanted her alive; thus she is still alive and you have the chance to save her. If he’d wanted to kill her, he had ample opportunity.”
Ames nodded, but the knot in his gut wasn’t going away. “Will Bierce be up for action?”
“I think... Probably. I can’t wipe the blood from inside his skull, but I can heal the damage and prevent further complications.”
“Good enough. Thank you, Victor.”
“It’s my path. Rest now.” He placed his hand on Ames’ forehead, and his touch quickly and gently healed the injuries. Moments later, Ames was asleep again.
The next day dawned bright, the sunlight shining into his room creating an almost cheerful counterpoint to the dark feelings that roiled within him. He dressed (someone had left him a set of informal clothes), then stepped out into the hall. At the nurses’ station he asked about Bierce.
“What is the relationship with the patient?”
“He’s my partner. I’m Confessor Ames.”
“Oh! I’m sorry. Under normal circumstances we control visits to approved guests and family.” She directed him to Bierce’s room.
He knocked, and entered upon hearing the faint invitation. Bierce was still in bed, and didn’t look well. “How are you feeling?”
Bierce looked at him, and he suspected that his eyes had the same horrible red coloration from burst capillaries. “Weak, and my head hurts.”
“Did they tell you what happened?”
“Apostle Albion did. I’m... Not quite fit at the moment. Is she okay?”
“We don’t know. But she’s likely alive. Have hope.”
Bierce started to sit up, but paled and fell back. “... Dammit.”
“Didn’t Victor heal you?”
“He did... But the bleeding was bad. The damage is gone, but... There’s still pressure. They may have to do something to relieve it.”
Ames rubbed his eyes. “God, I’m sorry Will.”
“Get her back.” It was almost a whisper.
“I’ll... Do that. You get well.”
“Soon as I can, Chuck.”
Ames started to growl a response, but Bierce was asleep again. He made a slight bow to his friend, then left the room.
The next while was interviews with police, comparing notes with what he’d seen as compared to them. As it turned out, one of the detectives hadn’t been rendered unconscious in the office area; he’d seen two men, one about fifty-ish and the other young and big carrying Ranah out through the fire door. She’d not looked injured beyond being unconscious. Both men had odd-looking stone plugs in their ears. Ames raised his eyebrows at THAT detail- that the man had picked up on it despite the noise trying to kill him impressed Ames greatly.
After meeting with the police he returned to St. John’s to report to Bishop Gerhardt. Within, things had changed; a good two dozen Confessors were there, some that he knew, some otherwise. And all of them looked grim. As he passed through the sanctuary, two men joined him- Johnson and Vincenz. He nodded to each in gratitude, and they soon were in the conference room with the Bishop.
“Gentlemen, please, be seated.”
When they were settled, Gerhardt took his own place at the head. He clasped his hands and bowed his head, the three with him following suit. “Lord, in this darkest of-”
Before he could continue, the door opened revealing the massive form of Pavel. “Forgive me, your Eminence.”
“Nothing to forgive. Please, join us.” He began again. “Lord, in this darkest of times please shine your light upon our endeavours to serve Your will, and protect and preserve the life of our lost companion, Ranah, who faces the darkness now alone. We are your servants, and ask Your compassionate guidance and wisdom. Amen.”
“Amen.” All four responded together.
“Now... You are all aware of what has transpired to this point; either by experience or by report. It started with the attempt on Ranah’s life, and today continues with her having been abducted. We have a puzzle with many pieces, and perhaps today, with God’s grace, we can start to assemble it. I am sorry to say that Confessor Bierce will not be able to join us; he is still in hospital. Apostle Albion also cannot join us at this juncture; he has offered his services to the New Jerusalem Police to ameliorate the damage inflicted on their personnel in the latest assault. If God is willing, his Gift will not be needed.
Pavel grunted. “Then let us be at this assembling.” Gerhardt nodded. “You’re all familiar with most of the pieces. I have found a few more, as did our absent friend Confessor Bierce. What Piper is after is the source of the Gifts. He believes if he can find it he can gain power of his own, and will be able to guide where such power appears in the future. He does have a backer, but That piece remains concealed.”
“Its secular,” Ames said, “and possessed of significant financial strength. I would guess its corporate in nature.”
“Reasonable. However, not terribly useful I’m afraid. Piper I suspect is not quite acting in his employer’s best interests. But... I know where to find the source.”
Every voice in the room shouted “WHAT?” At the same time, and Gerhardt winced. “DO control yourselves! I am not so old as to be deaf!”
Mumbled apologies made the rounds, and the Bishop continued. “Ever since Gifts began to appear, the Church held to the thought that this was the power of the Almighty given to Man as a blessing. However, for the first five hundred years there were no Gifts. And then in 541 AD, Gifts started to appear in the population with no regard to race, creed or culture. And that is when the Archangel Chaumiel disappeared.”
Vincenz looked at Gerhardt. “I thought that Chaumiel wasn’t considered real?”
“He isn’t. Wasn’t. However, a sufficiency of the evidence points to his reality. And likely of his binding by some agency on Earth. Who did that I don’t even want to speculate on. We have approximately five probable locations for where he is imprisoned. We aren’t going to act on that information until Ranah is back. No innocent falls to the likes of Piper on MY watch.”
It was Johnson’s turn to speak up. “But she was a thief; doesn’t that negate innocence?”
Ames slapped him on the back of the head. “No, idiot. Innocence isn’t action. Its being. And she is innocent.”
Johnson grimaced and rubbed the back of his head. “Okay. Yeah. That was stupid of me.”
Vincenz grinned. “It’s okay. We’re used to you Americans being slow.”
“That leaves us with finding Ranah. Fortunately, Piper isn’t the only one with access to ritual magic. And as there was some blood from her ears, we have a link.”
“Who will perform the ritual?” The question came from VIncenz.
“His name is Rabbi Ishmael. He’s an expert in the kabballah, and has agreed to assist. He’ll provide us with a method of tracing her.”
“Why not just locate her?”
“Because ritual links work both ways. If they notice that they’ve been scryed, they could strike back through the link. This way, it’s indirect. No link. Instead it should work like a compass, with Ranah being ‘north’, so to speak.”
Vincenz nodded. “When I get close enough I may be able to communicate with her. No promises, but I’ll do my best.”
“It is all we expect, my son.”
“What do you want me to do, your Eminence?”
Gerhardt raised an eyebrow. “Pavel? First, I want you to stop calling me that. Bishop or Sir is plenty enough for me. More, in fact. But I suspect nobody here would be comfortable calling me Erich. Second, you will go with the Confessors. Your pardon for my saying this, but you are an intimidating combat asset.”
Pavel grinned. “Intimidating. I can do that.”
“Rabbi Ishmael will have the tracer ready in a few hours. Remain here in the Cathedral until it is time. Until then, please enjoy my hospitality. And thank you all.”
