Act Four

Stephen stepped away from the closing gateway, into his study, which was a shambles. The late morning sun, pouring thru the giant windows, illuminated tipped furniture, broken glass, books and papers scattered to the floor.

Picking his way thru the mess, he couldn't help but turn attention to Cloaks' familiar hanging spots, even though he knew he wouldn't see it.

'Strange!' Wong's voice barked, from behind, spinning him around more quickly than he should have moved.

Dizzily, he grabbed the edge of the desk, gripped his chest with the other hand, met Wongs' upset gaze.

Wong came quickly across the room, surveying the signs of the struggle which had occurred. Seeing Stephen's pale face, the blood on his clothes, he picked the tall backed chair up.

Slid it over, just in time for Stephen to collapse into it.

Stephen gave a grateful nod, with an amused quirk of his lips as he saw the concern on Wongs' normally stoic features.

He must look pretty bad, to merit something other than 'Wong face'.

'You weren't answering your texts, or your phone. You were due in Kamar-Taj, today,' Wong explained, flatly, with a pointed scan of the room.

Stephen shrugged, threw a hand up, indicating the wreck that was his study, and shook is head.

'What happened?' Wong demanded.

'An assassin, I have to assume, since he tried to kill me,' Stephen replied, and his voice turned to a snarl,

'I believe he's taken Cloak.'

Wongs' expression turned to stone, and he said, quietly,

'If you, the Master of New York, are being attacked, we may assume it to be the beginning of an assault on earth, precipitated by the death of the Sorcerer Supreme. The dark forces who feared her will be testing our defenses. I will put all Masters, and disciples, on alert.'

Stephen nodded, agreement.

'Did you see the assassin?' Wong asked.

Stephen nodded, preparing to launch into a description, when he heard a ping from his phone.

Checked it, to see a text from Christine.

-Footage sent to your email. Take care-

He looked around for his MacBook, spotted it beneath the desk. Bent to retrieve it, with a grimace, and, as he opened it, explained,

'Cloak went missing while we were at the hospital. Hopefully the security cameras caught it.'

Wong slanted an odd look his direction, asked,

'You were at a hospital?'

Stephen grimaced, indicated his ripped, bloody tunic.

'Metro-General. Needed a little help, with all this.'

'You have contacts there?'

Stephen nodded, reminded, sarcastically,

'I was a pretty well known neurosurgeon, before all this. I still have a few friends….'

Wong made a weird, stifled sound.

Stephen tossed a quick look at Wong, amended, chagrin,

'Alright,….one. One friend. Thank goodness for that, or you'd have found me in the morgue.'

He opened the file from Christine, and Wong leaned over his shoulder to watch.

The footage was quite dark, even enhanced, so both men were forced to lean in closely.

They saw Cloak fly into the operating theater, Stephen in its folds, Christine run in, immediately after. A minute later, Cloaks' subsequent banishment. Then, the arrival of another person in scrubs.

Cloak, clinging miserably to the closed door, then its sudden snap toward something hidden in the shadows of the hallway.

Stephen felt his breath catch, watching, as the tall, ebon being approached his Cloak.

'He could be a dimension jumper,' Wong breathed, brow furrowed, 'and, that would be bad.'

'Ah, if only there was sound,' Stephen muttered,

'Look,' pointing out the little puffs of cold congealing in the shadows as he spoke to Cloak. Wong nodded, agreement.

When Cloak vanished into the orb, Stephen paused the video, leaned back against the chair, hard, feeling as if he'd been punched in the stomach.

The expression on the face of the assassin was gloating as he smiled at the orb in his hand, and that made Stephen even more furious.

Wong straightened, and his expression was rather more grim than usual.

Stephen waited, silently, for his friend to speak, because he obviously knew something.

'I don't know this being, but I do know this relic,' he said, pointing to the black orb held by the assassin.

'It was stolen when the London Sanctum fell to Kaecilius. It is the Gyve of Noctem Eternus. The Shackles of Eternal Night.'

Stephen, his brow furrowed, asked,

'What is it?'

'Exactly what it sounds like. A prison, with no sound, touch, or light. No walls, floors, ceiling. Only darkness. Minutes are like days, hours, like years.'

Listening as Wong described the relic, Stephen felt a knot form in his chest.

Cloak loved being touched. And, music. To deprive it of those things, condemn it to never ending night, was cruelty beyond forgiveness.

'Stephen.'

All at once, he realized Wong had asked him a question, and he scowled,

'I'm sorry, what?'

Wong gave a flat stare, repeated,

'What did you see, here? What was his weapon?'

Stephen shook his head, running thru the attack in his mind.

'He attacked from the dark. He had some type of daggers, more like shards. They almost looked like black glass. They were so cold, they burned,' Stephen said, wincing at the memory.

'They tore thru Cloak, but bounced off a mandala rune shield.'

Stephen shifted in the chair, to get to his pocket, pulled out the bag of dust Christine had given him.

Handed it to Wong, with a confused shrug.

'This is what's left of them, after they were pulled out.'

Wong held the bag up to the light, scowling.

'I will take this to Kamar-Taj. One of the other Masters may know more. Also, send me that video.'

With a few keystrokes, the video was sent, and Stephen powered the computer down.

'The wisest Masters will review it, as soon as I return to Kamar-Taj.'

Stephen nodded, tiredly, braced his hands against the desk to regain his feet.

Wong almost offered a hand, didn't. Instead, he decided,

'We will set a watch, over the Sanctum, for you.'

'No!' Stephen snapped, 'He needs to think I'm vulnerable, so he'll come back at me.'

'Well, you are,' Wong reminded, with his best Wong face to back the statement up.

'I know that,' Stephen admitted, frustrated. Closed his eyes, said, still leaning both hands against the desk,

'Just….help me figure this thing out before he returns.'

'You think he will?'

'I have no doubt of it,' Stephen gritted out.

He looked at Wong, fully prepared to get an argument.

Instead, Wong studied his battered appearance, suggested,

'You should be safe sleeping in the mirror dimension.'

'Oh, 'should be'? ' Stephen said, rolling his eyes as he straightened.

'I'll be back, shortly,' Wong informed, and left Stephen alone in the wrecked study.

After a shower, fresh clothes and bandages, and a few hours sleep, Stephen felt able to clean up the worst of the mess in his study, at least enough so that he could concentrate on exactly what had happened.

God is in the details, it was said, and, more than once, he had found that to be true. Closing his eyes, he replayed the scene in his memory, and when he reached the spot where the shards had bounced off his shield, his eyes snapped open.

'They bounced off,' he muttered, and began to search the far edges of the room.

In a dark corner, he spotted a faint glint, and fished one of the silver black shards out of the shadows.

As he turned it in his grip, it felt like a sliver of ice, dagger shaped. Sharp as a scalpel.

Scowling, he carried it to lay on the desk, wondering if he might find a reference in one of the books back at the library, perhaps the Lexicon of Relics.

He snapped a picture, texted it to Wong, along with a request for any books that might be helpful.

The late afternoon sun was fading into the lavender of twilight when Wong returned, bearing a stack of books, and several weapons. Stephen recognized a Wand of Watoomb, a quarterstaff, and a few other selections as Wong unloaded them to his desktop.

Stephen was sitting there, staring at a small pile of dust, that sparkled like ground obsidian.

'We have not found anything, as of yet,' Wong began, piling the books next to him on the floor. When Stephen didn't respond, he leaned over, with a curious scowl.

Before he could ask, Stephen said,

'The dagger shard. It turned to dust, in the light.'

Looked at Wong, a gleam of excitement in his eyes.

'He attacked, at night. Stayed in the shadows, when he was here. Took Cloak, in the dark.'

Stephen snapped open his computer, hit play on the security footage, allowed it to play past Cloaks abduction. Stabbed a finger at the screen, noted,

'When Christine opened the door. He dodged the light.'

Wongs' expression intensified, and he decided,

'He is from a Night realm, then. Light will weaken him.'

'Kill him?'

Wong shook his head, uncertainly,'

'We won't know until we can try it.'

'Can eldritch weapons defeat him?' Stephen wondered, and Wong gave a serious nod, unwilling to raise false hope,

'Possibly.'

Wong pulled a book from the stack, pulled up a chair, began shuffling to pages in silence, and Stephen did likewise.

Darkness fell as they searched the ancient pages, and shadows crept into the corners of the room, the only island of light provided by the desk lamp.

Stephen was so absorbed that when a chime rang, rather loudly, he startled, looked around, not quite sure if he should be concerned.

Wong was unaffected, met Stephen's confusion with a simple statement,

'It's the doorbell.'

'There's a doorbell?' Stephen asked, surprised.

'How else will you get your UPS?' Wong said, stating the obvious, as he came to his feet.

'Were you expecting someone?'

'Not really….' Stephen replied, then realized he had given Christine his address.

'Actually, it might be my Doctor.'

Wongs' eyebrows raised, and he commented,

'The woman in the video.'

Stephen nodded, with a tiny grin.

Wong snorted, rolled his eyes, laid his book down.

'I'll get the door,' and headed out of the study.

As Wongs' footsteps receded, Stephen heard his phone ping, realized he'd left it sitting on the nightstand. Stood, headed toward the dark bedroom to retrieve it.

When he reached the darkest spot in the study, he heard it.

Bathed in the shadows, he froze, turned to face the quiet hiss of an opening gateway. He snapped a shield up, instantly. It's golden glow undulated like firelight along the ember form of the assassin, who flashed silver fangs in a cruel smile. His bright eyes glittered with malice. Stephen felt the air temperature drop, saw the puff of his breath. Even his gateway behind him was a cold, flat black, gave off only a faint silver blue sparkle.

Cursing silently, Stephen looked past him to the desk, where all the weapons Wong had brought were laying.

The assassin obviously realized he was between Stephen and the weaponry, too.

So, Stephen did the only thing he could think of; stall.

'Who are you?' he growled, and the being sketched a brief bow, without taking his eyes off Stephen. His cloak swirled around him, confusing the eye with its movements.

'I am known by many names. In this dimension, I am called Sable, last of my kind,' and Stephen noticed an accent.

Sable added,

'I have given an oath.'

'Oh, really,' Stephen snarked, unimpressed, and Sable gave an unnerving chuckle,

'To kill you,' he clarified, and Stephen answered with a short, angry laugh.

Sable looked around the room, eyeing the weapon covered desktop.

'I see you have learned something about me,' gesturing toward his shield, and glancing toward the weapons.

'More than you think, I wager,' Stephen taunted, drawing another laugh from Sable.

'Not enough, I think.'

Stephen took a step forward.

With a flinch, Sable gave ground before the shield, and Stephen narrowed his eyes, baring his teeth in a grin,

'I guess we'll see,' and took another step.

Sable snarled, raised his hands, and the silver shards glittered, wickedly. He hurled them at Stephen, and they bounced off the shield, crackling. Gaps in the mandalas opened, forcing Stephen to reform it.

Sable lunged, hands against the shield, but it held, snapping and sparking like a grounded electric line.

The attack forced Stephen backwards several steps, but Sable wasn't able to maintain the assault, and had to retreat, hissing and shaking his hands.

All at once, the study door swung open.

Wong, with Christine close behind.

The four of them froze, then everything happened at once.

Wong dove for the weapons on the desktop.

Christine ducked behind the doorframe with a shriek.

Sables attention held, just a second, on Wong, and that was a second too long.

Stephen dropped the shield, formed an eldritch whip, and lashed out, catching Sable around the throat.

He jerked, hard, reeled the assassin in, Sables' back to his chest.

Wrapping his free arm around Sables throat, Stephen cinched another loop of the whip around his chest, for a better hold.

That was when Sables' cloak made its true nature known.

The smokey cloak attacked, swarmed Stephen, like bees, or ants, stinging, tingling, blocking his vision, tugging at his clothes, but, instead of forcing Stephen to loosen the whip, he tightened it. Sables flesh smoked, and he gave a squeal of pain, struggling violently, but couldn't break Stephen's determined grip.

He slammed Stephen's injuries with an elbow, drawing fresh blood from his wounds, but Stephen ignored it.

Rage gave him strength.

Sables' ebon cloak, realizing it couldn't make any headway against Stephen, returned to its Master, attempting to loosen the whip, burning little bits of itself into dust.

'Give me back my cloak, asshole,' Stephen snarled, into his ear, 'or, I'll hold you, until I see if sunrise can turn you into dust.'

Sable gave a vicious shake, nearly broke free, but Stephen jerked the whip tighter around both throat, and chest.

Thrashing futilely, Sable pulled the orb from a misty fold of his cloak, held it so Stephen could clearly see it.

All at once, Stephen realized just how close to Sables' black gateway they were.

Arms' length.

Sable extended the orb toward the swirling gateway, threatened, half choking,

'Me, or the Gyve. One, or the other, goes in. I swear…that if it's the Gyve… your will never find your Cloak.'

Wong, holding his ground between Sable, and Christine, looked at Stephen, shook his head, knowing what Stephen was contemplating.

But, for Stephen, there was only one choice.

He snapped the whip free, snatched the Gyve, clutched it tight to his chest.

Sable, his ebon cloak tight against his shoulders, dove into his gateway, and both he, and the gateway, disappeared.

Gasping, Stephen fell to his knees, gripped the Gyve with both shaking hands, and opened it.

Cloak tumbled to the floor, in a cloud of frosty cold mist, like a garment falling from a hanger.

Stephen closed the Gyve, handed it to Wong, and lifted his crimson companion to his lap, 'Cloak,' he whispered, wrapping his hands into it's tattered, unmoving folds.