Chapter 11

When night fell, our team prepared to head out to do battle with the forces of darkness.

Well. Maybe we weren't the best choice to stop the fiery force of darkness that threatened to burn the city down. One of us was a force of darkness. Another was a mythical creature of flame capable of incredible destruction. And the last was a recovering pyromaniac.

But no-one else was volunteering.

"We're clear," Q said as he entered the garage.

After our unexpected visit from the all-too-observant Special Investigations department, we'd worried about the cops putting someone out to watch us. Q had been tasked with scouting, to make sure no-one was waiting in the dark. The last thing I needed was the police linking anything back to me.

"Okay," I said, reassured that he would have found someone if they were there to be found. Passing the Lieutenant's little test earlier must have put some doubt into her mind about the accusations toward me. That, or getting approval for a stake-out of a twice-cleared suspect was as it sounded. "I'll meet you at the rendezvous, and we'll go from there," I told Q as I pulled on my leather jacket.

The goblin nodded and slipped into his pilfered van. As I opened the garage door, he started backing out. In seconds, he was heading down the street, and I was left with rolling my bike out and locking up.

An excited trill sounded from my jacket, and I smiled as I gunned the engine. Before leaving, I twisted around to make one last check of the straps holding the magical box in place over the rear wheel. And then we were off, taking an alternate route through the city.

It took about thirty minutes to get to the rendezvous point. I could have arrived there a lot faster, but we wanted to make sure that traffic cameras had a hard time tracking my journey. I doubted the police would bother, assuming everything went as planned. But it didn't hurt to be cautious; especially when S.I. had already proven themselves more than capable of seeing through my amateur attempts at subterfuge.

When I arrived at the remote parking area south of the Loop, I found Q waiting with the van. It was parked in the shadows of the El. As I looked, I realized that there might be too many shadows draping over the area, and wondered how Q had managed that. Other than a glamour that made him pass for human, he didn't tend to use much in the way of raw magic. Magical artifice was his trade, but I couldn't imagine what he'd cooked up that would cast shadows like that.

He motioned me over, and I parked my bike beside the van.

"No-one should mess with these while we're gone," he advised as I kicked the stand down.

"I hope not," I said as I retrieved the box from the back. Touching the thing still made my skin crawl, even through my leather bike jacket and gloves.

I was sporting an extending shock baton, the brass knuckles Q had cooked up for me, and a backup knife just in case. The knucks were illegal, but if we were caught, they'd be the least of my worries. My leather jacket and motorcycle pants had been modified by Q, and he assured me that they'd offer more than the standard protections. My trusty half helmet would do what it could to protect my noggin.

As for Q, he had his glamour up, and looked like a fairly normal guy. His glamored features still weren't symmetrical, but his eyes were a more mundane brown, as was his hair. His skin was still pale, but most of that was clad in his own biker leathers.

A pair of curving blades crisscrossed the small of his back, and there were several smaller knives here and there on his person. He would be my primary offensive weapon. As crafty and creative as he was, he was still a natural born killing machine.

We made our way out of the dark, casting furtive glances around us to make sure we weren't observed. I spared another glance back, but found that the shadows had grown since I'd first arrived. Neither the van nor the bike were visible.

Q made a bee-line toward a storm drain. As we crouched down in the metal tube, he was careful not to touch any of the exposed steel. I handled the metal grate that swung open, and we headed into darkness.

My hand touched on the bridge of my glasses as we descended. "Calya," I whispered, and at the touch and command, another spell on the glass ignited. The depths of Undertown brightened to the point that I could easily see that which was around me. I glanced at Q, and saw that he'd dropped his glamour. His red eyes almost glowed in the dark, and I figured he had no trouble seeing.

When we'd descended into the area Q had heard was recently abandoned, I unzipped my jacket enough to allow Sal room to stick his head out.

"You smell the fire?" I asked the little guy.

Sal sniffed, turning back and forth. He looked around in the dark, but eventually gave a negative bark. Q gave a disappointed grunt, and pulled the zip-lock out that contained the dirty sock.

"Sorry," I said with a shrug.

The goblin took a good sniff of the garment, his face twisting in disgust again. Once he had the scent, he sealed up the bag, and then started training his attention down the different paths that lay before us.

"Catching anything?" I asked after a minute went by.

"Shut up," he replied, his voice a muted growl. I obeyed, and after another minute the goblin set off into the dark. I trailed behind.

Using whatever senses, physical or magical or both, Q led us back and forth in the abandoned tunnels. More than once, our journey led us through raw sewage, and I cursed softly when I stepped on something that writhed beneath my boot. I watched it scamper off, and tried to ignore the fact that it seemed to have more tails than it should.

Ten minutes passed as we weaved our way through Undertown. Other than what may or may not have been Cthulhu's pet rat, we came across nothing. I kept quiet, though, since there were plenty of things that lurked in Undertown that wouldn't announce their arrival until they were right on top of you.

A trill broke the silence, and Q and I both froze as we looked toward Sal. The little guy was sniffing at the air.

"The fire?" I whispered. The salamander gave an affirmative chirp, and Q silently drew his curved blades. "Where?" I asked as I took out the baton, leaving it collapsed for the moment.

Sal scampered out of his box, and I zipped my coat back up as he made his way to the tunnel floor. We weren't in the sewer anymore; the walls were an old brick, and the place was dry. I had no problem tracking his movement with my glasses, as his red-hot form stood out.

We hurried along as he led us toward the flame. Since he could smell the unique fire from across town, but had only just picked up the scent, it meant that the thing had just sparked up. I worried that we were too late, and that Pierce would be on his way up toward the city.

Our pace doubled as Sal shot forward. After a minute, we were in an all-out run. Q quickly outpaced me, and I found myself barely keeping sight of the two as they rounded corners ahead of me.

I'd completely lost track of him when the sounds of a struggle broke out ahead. I saw that Sal had remained at an intersection, making sure I knew where they had gone. But the ominous hue of the walls, a cruel lavender casting dark plum shadows, told me that Pierce was just around the corner.

When I reached the bend, I was shocked to see Q flying through the air.

"Ungh!" he grunted as he slammed into the wall. He'd hit on his shoulder, but somehow managed to twist in midair to land gracefully. He fell into a crouch, his knives crossed before him, as he stared at Myron Pierce.

The man himself looked just as wasted and thin as he had the last time I'd seen him. His clothes were nothing more than filthy rags by that point. When he sensed my arrival, his heliotrope eyes swiveled toward me. They glowed in the dark with a madness born of the torch he held.

The flames illuminated his face, revealing hollow cheeks and deep eyes. His body was frail and deathly thin, and I wondered if he'd been surviving on tentacled rats for the last couple of weeks.

It looked like he'd found himself a small hide-away in Undertown all to himself. The place had scorch marks all over the walls and floor, and there were a couple piles of charred remains that might have been the space's previous inhabitants.

"Fo̱tísei to drómo," the man muttered, his tone aggressive. He seemed offended at our invasion of his new home. The flames surged as he spoke, flickering angrily.

"Yeah, you said that last time," I replied, inching my way forward. "Still not sure what it means."

"It's Greek," Q confirmed as he slowly stalked around his prey, circling behind him. "It means, 'light the way'."

"Light the way?" I echoed, as Pierce spun to try and keep track of the two of us. I set the evil box of evil down a safe distance away, and opened the lid.

"Don't ask me," the goblin said, keeping his eyes focused on the man. "Watch out for him. He's a lot faster and stronger than he should be."

"I figured," I replied. Pierce swung around toward me when I spoke, and purple fire trailed after the torch as it spun. "I saw your impressive goblin ninja skills on display there as he bounced you off the wall."

"Bite me, Hayes," the goblin growled, his eyes glinting dangerously across the way.

"Fo̱tísei to drómo," Pierce growled again, his voice growing louder. The torch grew brighter as he did, the flames reaching higher to lick at the ceiling of the chamber.

"Uh, I think we need to stop him," I said dumbly as I saw the air begin to swirl around him in a familiar fashion. "It was after he said it a third time that the warehouse went up in flames."

Q didn't need to be told twice. The goblin shot forward, faster than my eyes could track. He didn't make a sound as he approached the mad man, and Pierce didn't see him coming.

But the torch did.

A tendril of flame flickered out and around the man at the speed of light. I watched as it whipped at my friend, and hit him like a physical blow. Q's eyes widened in surprise as he was once more sent flying.

He bounced against some piping in a way that wasn't conducive to retaining consciousness; doubly so for a being of Faerie, as the metal scorched his head and neck when he thudded into it. But despite the force of the impact, I saw him shake his head, trying to clear it.

As he landed, I was already charging forward, snapping my baton out as I went. The flames swirled around toward me, the torch controlling that which Pierce could not. I knew that if they hit me like they had Q, I likely wouldn't be getting up.

But as they lashed toward me, a crimson fireball erupted from the floor. The burst washed into the tendril of purple flame, managing to redirect it enough for me to slip under it. Sal gave an angry hissing bark as power swirled around him, and another fireball erupted against the angry lilac tentacle that coiled back toward me.

I ended up in a slide as I closed on the man, and thrust my baton at his gut. The electrical charge crackled in the air as it snapped into him. Enough juice passed through the baton to send him writhing to the floor.

Except, you know, he didn't.

The man at least grunted, signifying that he felt the blow to some extent. But rather than dropping harmlessly, the man swung the torch at me. The bone-white object snapped across his front and hit me in the shoulder.

I lost time for a second. The next thing I knew, I was shaking my pounding head as I stirred against the far wall. The blow had sent me flying across the room, and I was slow to pick myself up.

I heard Q cursing in what I took to be Goblinese, and turned to find him doing his best to stay ahead of the violet flame that thrashed back and forth at alarming speed. It was almost as thick as my waist, but was as quick as a bull whip. Sal was with Q, trying to fight fire with fire, but the little salamander couldn't keep up.

By little, I mean Cocker Spaniel sized salamander that had coral and amber flames flickering all along his body. His feathered gills, normally retracted to where you couldn't see them, were spread wide as he shook them in an aggressive fashion. He belched fireball after fireball at the torch, but the tendril of flame swirled away from them and whipped across the floor.

Q saw it coming and managed to leap out of the way, but Sal didn't. The attack sent him spiraling through the air as it cut his legs out from beneath him. A surprised trill pierced the air, and then it was the salamander's turn to try and shake his head clear.

"Right," I said, looking for my baton. I found it lying in two unhelpful pieces, and I kicked at them in frustration. "Because it couldn't be easy."

I pulled the brass knuckles out and slid them over my gloves. A tingle of power rippled along my knuckles, and I pushed myself up as Q turned Pierce away from me.

With his attention elsewhere, I charged at the man from behind. The torch didn't miss my arrival, and the tendril of flame spun around toward me. I ducked as it passed, and felt fire wash over my right arm and shoulder. A scream escaped my lips as it burned the flesh along my neck, but then it was gone, whipping back toward Q to halt his sudden attack.

Somehow I managed to not pass out from the agonizing pain in my neck, and instead closed on Pierce. He turned toward me as I reached him, and my right cross caught him across the jaw.

I'm in pretty good shape, but I'm no fighter. I've got some lean muscle, but not nearly enough to hurt a supernatural baddie. And if Pierce weren't doing his Purple Lantern imitation, I'm sure I could have knocked him out. But the torch seemed to be fueling him in some way that left him too fast and too strong. My measly punch wasn't going to do anything against that type of power.

Thankfully, Q's magical brass knuckles packed a little more pop.

As my fist connected, the spell in the knuckles ignited. Kinetic energy lashed out, making the blow ten times what it should have been. The man staggered and spun, barely keeping to his feet.

"Thing versus Human Torch!" I shouted, my adrenaline helping me push past the pain. As Pierce righted himself, my left cross caught him, and he spiraled to the floor.

Which would have been great, if the damned torch weren't the thing I was really fighting.

Even as he fell to the side, the flame whipped back around toward me with blinding speed. I felt it wash across my legs, and my knees gave out as it knocked me head over heals. My helmet cracked against the concrete floor, and stars danced in my vision as I watched a periwinkle solar flare circle around toward my head.

A burst of salmon flame redirected it to my left as I rolled to my right. The living flame lashed against my spellbound leather jacket, and even Q's work wasn't enough to prevent it from burning to cinder beneath the intense fire. More pain spread across my arm and back, and I hissed through my teeth as I felt my flesh burn.

Sal leapt over my rolling form, and I barely caught sight of him as he was sent hurtling toward the ceiling by an upswing from the flame whip. He crunched against the surface overhead, but somehow seemed to try to claw at the flame itself. When it whipped back down and around, Sal clung to it, like a dog worrying at a bone.

I saw Q darting forward again, his face burned badly on one side. I missed the exchange where the torch had gotten him, but was glad to see him still up and moving. He darted toward the fallen Pierce, who was trying to right himself.

Q had his knives up, readying them for a killing blow. Part of me wished that he'd keep to the plan and leave Pierce alive, but I wasn't sure how much longer that would be an option. We were barely holding on.

As luck would have it, the torch saw Q coming. The tendril redirected, and Q barely had time to get the blades out of the way before Sal was sent crashing into him. The two spun away as the flame whipped them both across the room.

Pierce righted himself at the same time I did, and I saw his deranged eyes narrow as he held the torch aloft.

"Fo̱tísei to drómo!" he screamed just as I leapt forward.

At his command, the spinning wall of flame sparked around him, scorching the floor in a circular pattern as it rose to the ceiling. When it reached the stone overhead, the flames rolled out, and suddenly the entire room was ablaze in amethyst light.

Every surface outside of the circle caught fire, as the subterranean chamber became a kiln of magical energy. Concrete shattered and crumbled to ash as the living fire torched everything in its path.

Fortunately for me, my leap had carried me inside the circle, so I wasn't turned to a char smear in those first moments.

The temperature in the circle shot up as I grabbed at Pierce. I struggled to catch my breath as the oxygen was torn from the space, and I sagged against the man. He just stared down at me unrecognizingly, as if he had no clue what I was doing there. Somehow he was unaffected by the heat and the flame, and simply screamed triumphantly as the room was incinerated.

The torch, I thought to myself. The torch is protecting him from itself.

And if it would protect him, it might just protect me.

My hand fumbled for the magical artifact, which was too busy melting steel pipes to bother with stopping me. I felt along Pierce's arm until I reached the torch. His eyes grew indignant as he realized what I was trying to do, and he raised his other arm as if to smack me away.

Then my fingers wrapped around the torch, and the world changed.

One second, I was a mortal. A pitiful being of insignificance; no power, no strength, no purpose.

The next, I was a god.

Power hummed through me as I held the torch. Power unlike anything I could have ever imagined. The raw strength of it, the pure will of living flame, coursed through my very being. It strengthened me, making me something incredible. Filling me with power, and purpose.

I held the torch before me, gazing at the beautiful flames it emitted. It transfixed my gaze, and I couldn't look away. I heard a pitiful mewling from somewhere close, and realized that the worthless mortal that had possessed the torch before me was clinging to it, trying to keep it for himself.

I snapped a fist blindly at him, and felt it crunch against his face. He collapsed to the floor, his grip on the torch lost as he fell.

It left me in sole possession of its power. Sole bearer of the Light of the Lampades. The flames around the room redoubled as I held the torch aloft in triumph, the light flickering across the lenses of my glasses. I could feel the glow as my eyes began to shine, mirroring the torchlight.

This was power. This was purpose. With the torch, I could make a difference. I could burn away the old, and let something new rise from the ashes. Chicago would burn like it had before, even worse than the fires of legend. Buildings would crumble beneath my flames. And like a phoenix, something new would be reborn.

And not just Chicago. Not just this one place, in this one time. Any place. Many places. The world itself would burn, and the heavens would watch as the earth glowed violet in the Empty Night.

I reveled in the glory of my purpose, knowing that I would be the Harbinger of Light. The flames cracked the floors of the chamber, the walls beginning to crumble as my power grew—

Then there was a sharp pain in my wrist. Something jerked at it, and my arm was yanked to the side. My grip failed, and the torch tumbled away.

As soon as it was out of my hand, the fires disappeared, the air popping as they fizzled into nothing. Tendrils of smoke were all that remained, and I could barely see the torch as it flew through the air.

It landed with a thud against the open box lid before falling within. The impact was enough to jar it closed, and it snapped down over the torch with a deafening boom.

I gripped my burning wrist as I panted, unable to catch my breath.

The sigils burned into my glasses glowed slightly in the dark, as the protective spells Q weaved into them did their best to cool them in the intense heat. My vision cleared, and the illumination spell allowed me to look around at the chamber. The walls, ceiling and floor were charred black. What metal remained intact glowed red-hot; some of it was still hanging in place, while the rest pooled in molten puddles across the room.

The containment box was blackened as well, but whatever magics had been used on it kept it from being incinerated. Smoke seemed to swirl around it, and seeing it gave me chills.

I managed to tear my eyes away from it, and they fell upon the disheveled figure in the chamber's entrance. The woman stepped forward when I spotted her, and I saw that she wore golden armor here and there over white fabrics. The armor itself was more than singed, and black scorch marks crisscrossed her battle dress. A shield on her left wrist was misshapen from the heat, and I saw that the tip of the golden whip she'd snapped across my wrist had begun to crumble away.

"Gard," I breathed out as the blond woman came closer. Her attention was on the box, but my voice drew her eyes back to me. I saw soot marks on her face, and her hair was frizzed in places. She nodded in my direction.

"You…" I began, but stopped to catch my breath. "You saved me."

"I simply helped you help yourself," she replied. I couldn't say that her voice sounded harried, but it didn't sound all that steady.

As my mind rebooted, I remembered that I hadn't come alone. I spun around, looking for my friends. I found Q unwinding from where he'd been balled up in a corner. Sal was draped across him, panting heavily. "You guys okay?" I asked, my voice rough and raw from the heat stifling the room.

Sal gave an exhausted trill. Q just held a thumb up as he gazed around the place, taking in the damage. A couple portions of wall had crumbled, and another corner had collapsed. "Little guy kept me safe behind a fire wall," the goblin said breathlessly, his voice more raspy than usual.

I turned back to the woman, and found her standing before the box. She was studying it, a deep frown creasing her Nordic features.

"I… I thought if I didn't touch it directly…" I explained, and held up my gloved hand. But I was startled to find that the leather had burned away where I had held the torch. Even the brass knuckles on that hand were gone, the metal melted away. The skin beneath was unblemished; only that which had separated us had been turned to ash. I couldn't help but shiver, in awe of the sheer power it held.

"A sound strategy, Summerchild," the woman said, her attention returning to the box. "Had the lamp not been twisted as it was, that might have been enough."

"Twisted?" I asked as I stood beside her. I heard Q rise behind me, and a moment later he joined us.

"I did not understand the true nature of this box until the lamp was returned to it," she explained, her tone disapproving and somewhat appalled. "This chest was not designed to simply contain the thing; it was crafted to antagonize it. Torture it, in a way."

"Torture it?" Q rasped. Gard spared him a long look, as if weighing his question between simple curiosity and professional interest.

"Indeed," she finally answered. "It seems that the chest spent years twisting the torch, turning it from a passive tool of illumination into a savage weapon of destruction." The woman sighed heavily. "Whomever did this wanted it to be maddened when someone finally took it up."

"But why?" I asked, confused. "What good does that do anyone?"

"There are many that gain from chaos and disorder. Such things are all too common in this age," she explained cryptically.

"Is there anything we can do?" I asked, wondering at it.

Fo̱tísei to drómo, a voice sounded in my head.

I might have jumped just a little. Gard and Q both glanced to me as I shook in place, staring at the box.

"I think it just spoke to me," I said weakly. I studied the engravings on the box, and wondered at how someone could do such a thing. The torch was a thing of beauty; it had no business being locked away—

Q's grip tightened on my wrist, causing me to wince in pain. I glanced at him in anger, only to realize that he'd stopped me only moments before I'd touched the box.

"Whoa," I said, taking a startled step back. I hadn't even realized what I was doing.

"Perhaps you shouldn't be left alone with this," Q said, his eyes narrowing as he studied me.

"I cannot take it," the woman explained. "My involvement has already exceeded that which it should. If I were to take possession of the torch, even for a brief time…" she shook her head.

"I'll keep it," Q said, turning back to her. "Can you at least help contact it's proper owner?"

"Indeed," Gard replied. "That has already been done. Although how long it will take her to arrive is anyone's guess."

"Really?" I asked, somewhat jumpy as my nerves shook. "I figured all you supernatural types could get about pretty easily." I really needed a cigarette. My neck, arm, and back were beginning to throb where I'd been burned, and I wanted to be out of that sauna.

And away from the box.

Fo̱tísei to drómo.

"For those that travel in darkness, it is not always so easy to see one's way," Gard replied, her eyes on the box. "Especially for those that have lost their light."

"Right," I said, jumping only slightly when I felt Sal scrambled onto my shoulder. He was back to his normal size, and started flicking his tongue over the burns on my neck. His saliva cooled wherever it touched, and I sighed at the relief.

"Let's get this over with then," Q said, turning back to me. I nodded, and went to run a hand through my hair. It bumped against my helmet, which shifted awkwardly. I felt along it, noting the crack that had appeared in its surface rather than my head. I shook a little as the adrenaline from the fight began to wear off.

"Right," I repeated, trying to steel myself rather than quake in fear at that which was beyond my ability to comprehend. "There's a job to do."