11 - The Darkest Paths
ANTARCTICA, SOME WEEKS BEFORE
He was hanging head down, hands and feet tied. Despite the strange heat inside the room, he was freezing to death. The muscles in his tetanized arms were in agony, he could no longer feel his fingers. His legs were completely numb now, blocked by thick metal chains that held him to the hook he was hung to.
He glanced to one side, then turned his head to the other. He looked up at his feet, whose skin had worn away against the metal. His bare chest bore the marks of the torture inflicted by his tormentors. He tried to,love, but couldn't.
He was exhausted. His thoughts seemed to be lost in the haze, he could no longer discern much of what was going on around him, except for this tiny, grim cell in which he was locked. He had stopped trying to count the hours and minutes. All sense of time seemed distorted down here. First the journey from Europe to here, the arrival of the first guinea pigs, the confinement and loneliness in this cell... With bitterness he realised that there was no way out. And anyway, he would not have had the strength to fight and escape.
He was suddenly startled when the heavy cell door opened. He heard a series of steps coming towards him. He discerned some guards. Out of the corner of his eye he also recognised Tobias Svendsen, bundled up in a large dark fleece suit, his hair still elegantly combed back. He took a step closer, hands in his pockets in his usual nonchalant attitude.
"I'm really happy to see you're finally feeling comfortable down here," he told Kurtis ironically.
The mercenary swallowed with difficulty.
"Sorry to disappoint you, but I've seen better."
A cynical smile spread across the Norwegian's lips.
"I like your humour, Trent. But playing with words won't get you out of this."
"You haven't seen anything yet, I've got one or two more magic tricks to show you."
Tobias signalled to one of the guards, who approached and punched him hard in the abdomen. The American suffocated for a few seconds and grunted.
"You won't resist for long, Trent."
"I'll resist as long as I can."
"As you wish."
The guard punched him in the face. He felt the pain radiate through his jaw to the top of his skull. He winced. The Norwegian stepped forward and stared into the mercenary's eyes.
"But know that we will win, one way or another. It's only a matter of time."
With that, he turned and left the room, leaving the mercenary in the hands of his torturers.
—
SOME DAYS AFTER
He was awakened by the various noises around him. As always, he had the reflex to want to move and back to the ground, but the metal chains holding him down and the pain in his limbs brought him back to reality each time.
A scientific, or more precisely, a technician, had his back to him and was working on his desk right next to him. Without turning around, the man abruptly walked to the door and left, before appearing again a few moments later, followed by Miranda. She grabbed the report the technician was handing her and quickly went through it as she approached the American.
"You'll probably be pleased to know that the glove is working. Despite the explosion at the Strahov, it was not damaged as I had originally feared."
The mercenary began to laugh uncontrollably. The woman and the man exchanged a surprised look.
"I wouldn't be in the mood to laugh if I were you, Trent."
"Seriously, Svendsen, do you really believe that you can control a weapon forged from dark alchemy and by the darkest forces, a weapon that no one has ever been able to control?"
"We may not, but you can."
He laughed more loudly.
"If you think I'm going to help y-"
The half-breed suddenly looked into his blue eyes, and an unbearable pain shot through his skull. A sharp burn, like a white-hot needle sliding further and further into his brain. He gritted his teeth and struggled, but even when he moved away his gaze, he could still feel the pain.
"Well actually, we're not giving you choices."
The pain increased in intensity. It was no longer just his head that was about to explode, but his whole body. He felt as if thousands of flames were flowing through his bloodstream and burning him from the inside. Miranda suddenly released the pressure on him, and the pain disappeared almost immediately. Kurtis tilted his head back, panting.
"It's not that simple..." he hissed through his teeth. "If you think you can just put it on and make it work... it's an extremely powerful weapon, you'll kill us all..."
"I know. But everything's fine, since we have at our disposal one of the only people who can understand and use it."
She took one step closer.
"The human race is one fascinating, resourceful species. We are biologically designed to survive and sustain the species, which, as you may already know, has been going on since the beginning of time. Generations follow one another, year after year and century after century. The world evolves and changes, that's how evolution goes. Despite our omnipresence in this world and the rights we have granted ourselves, we are an ephemeral race first and foremost, and we will disappear sooner or later. Imagine for a moment that we could change that, and turn things around. Who hasn't dreamed of living longer? Who hasn't wished for a life without end? Achieving that longevity would be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, a way to achieve so much on this earth... we could create a whole new race of human beings, much more resilient and much stronger, with exceptional physical and mental capabilities. All we want to do is to create an improved version of humanity, and to bring the human being to his supreme form..."
"I didn't wait for you to reach my highest form, thank you..."
Miranda straightened up and crossed her arms over her chest.
"Your cynicism doesn't surprise me, Trent. Yet you are yourself one of those beings who could achieve that fulfilment, am I right?"
"I am mostly one of those beings who think that certain balances cannot be broken..."
A mysterious smile appeared at the corners of the scientist's lips.
"Your powers are a gift, just like mine. Have you ever thought what beings like you and me could do with this world? Don't you want to recreate the thousand-year-old order you were fighting for with people like you, people who would understand you?"
Kurtis let out another cynical laugh.
"The purpose of my order was to hunt down and stop people like you."
"Looks like you have failed this time."
They stared at each other for a moment. The half-breed woman looked extremely serious, and Kurtis was no longer in the mood to laugh.
"The world we live in is fragile and naive, Trent. Men are weak, bitter, self-centred, drowned in a society that has long since passed them by and indirectly destroyed them. They will not survive the coming centuries. The end of the world is already written, it remains to be seen who will survive it or just disappear with the others. Few people in this world can really understand what is at stake..."
"So I must certainly be one of those people..."
"Men must evolve and mutate. It is inevitable if we want to survive. We will have to adapt, both biologically and physically. A new community of higher beings will emerge, whether you like it or not."
"That's crazy..." the mercenary replied, rolling his head to one side.
"I don't expect you to understand what we're trying to create."
She nodded to the scientist who had stayed behind.
"It's time to get to the next level," she said coldly.
The technician she was with handed her a syringe, whose silvery-blue liquid glowed in the light of the old lamp. The young man couldn't hold back another cynical laugh as she walked towards him.
"And so what? Are you turning me into a mutant man now?"
The woman smiled back at him.
"Of course not. It would be foolish of us to waste your abilities, which are so precious to us."
Without warning, she stuck the syringe into the mercenary's arm and began to inject him. A strange sensation spread through his body, a sensation of extreme heat, in complete contrast to the cold he had felt a few minutes earlier.
"The injections haven't worked on ordinary people so far, which I should have known. The test subject has to have a minimum of ability for it to work properly, obviously. Of course, this is only a synthetic sample, but it should be enough for now. As I told you before, you are a special being, Trent, and I imagine that the exceptional being that you are will not need much to reveal its full potential. The first results should be seen in a few days."
The room began to spin dangerously around him. He felt violently nauseous.
"What did you inject me with?" asked Kurtis, who was about to pass out.
Miranda leaned over him.
"Nothing too bad, don't worry. Or at least nothing that will kill you, if that makes you feel any better. You may feel some side effects for a few hours, but they'll pass quickly."
He tried to stay focused as long as he could, but already the world was disappearing around him. He could no longer feel his body. He felt violently dizzy, and the image of Miranda gradually disappeared, carried away by the darkness.
—
His heart was pounding in a slow rhythm against his chest. He felt nauseous, almost sick. A strange sensation ran through his body with every pulse of blood in his veins. Staring into space, he could not find any point of reference to hold on to.
For several days they had kept him locked up here, in this little room, or at least this converted cell, if a mattress thrown on the floor in the middle of the room could be considered a room. They had moved him from the isolation quarters to the prisoners' area a few days before, but he hadn't noticed anything. Since the injection Miranda had given him, he had probably been in a deep coma for a few days before waking up here, alone.
A bitter thought suddenly came to him. He knew that he had taken a huge risk in following the Svendsens, and yet he never thought he would end up where he was. He thought of Lara and the last time he had heard her voice. He thought of the last time he had held her body against his, and of the strange burn of knowing she was so far from him. But he had to push her thoughts out of his mind at all costs. Tobias obviously didn't have the same psychic abilities, but Miranda might be able to intercept and read his thoughts. He knew that every second he was in her presence, he had to protect himself by all means. He had to hold on, and resist as long as he could. He had to hold on as long as possible and stay with the Svendsens to find out how to get the glove from them and how to get rid of it. There was no other way, he had to go along with their demands.
I have no choice
At least that was what he kept telling himself to reassure himself.
The lock on his door unlocked, and several people entered. Two guards stood on his doorstep, preceding Saija, who entered with a determined step. She looked at him with her usual petty look.
"You finally look ready."
"Ready for what?"
"That's for you to find out."
With the insistent glances he was receiving from the guards and the young woman, the mercenary slowly stood up. He felt Saija's gaze slide up and down on him.
"Are you feeling better?"
He didn't necessarily feel better. But he felt different.
"Why d'you mind?" the young man replied coldly.
"I like to take care of our guests, even the difficult ones."
Kurtis ignored her remark. In front of his silence, the young assistant did not insist further, and turned away. Reluctantly, the mercenary followed the movement, followed by the guards. The door closed and slammed behind them. They stepped into the corridor.
He felt his heartbeat quicken as he approached the experimental airlock. His footsteps were heavy and sounded strange against the metal floor. The neon lights flashed in a stifling light over his head, but he paid no attention to them. He could feel the heavy gazes of the guards following him. A few meters ahead of him, he noticed Tobias waiting for him in a large glass doorway, relatively modern compared to the rest of the base.
He entered a large, spacious, completely empty room. The light, subdued but extremely white, gave him the impression of having entered a hospital operating room. He stared at the object waiting for him at the back of the room, which was placed on a sort of large metal base.
Svendsen and the others walked over to an adjoining room, separated from the room he was in by a large window. He walked with measured steps towards the glove. There was a strange atmosphere in the room, as if it had been charged with static electricity. He took a moment to observe the intertwined piece of cloth and metal before him. He reached out and placed his hand over it, as if trying to feel the vibrations emanating from it. A sort of static smoke surrounded him, as if he was trying to protect himself. The mercenary felt a sort of disgust at remembering what this glove had been used for over the centuries, but he didn't let on.
His hands passed through the energy fields around it, and he gently grasped the object, turning it one way, then the other. The material seemed to react strangely to his touch and hands, and began to vibrate a little more. With apprehension, he finally slipped his hand inside and put it on. He felt the supple leather fit his arm perfectly, and his fingers slipped naturally into the gloved hand. The glove was relatively light, contrary to what he thought. He took the time to look at his hand in all directions, surprised that he had not had more difficulty in taming the object.
"It's working," he suddenly heard behind him.
He turned around. Miranda had just joined the rest of the group. She pushed aside some of the henchmen to make her way to the window, literally stunned by what she was seeing.
Tobias gestured to the men standing next to him. Three of them left the room, and returned after a few minutes, dragging a man and a chair with them. The prisoner, with his hands tied, was struggling with all his strength and writhing in all directions. Kurtis watched as they came towards him, placed the chair in front of him, and forced the man to sit down. The man struggled some more as they tied him to the chair. One of the henchmen hit him hard with his fist to make him stop moving. The man stopped moving, slumped over in the chair, his head cocked to one side, his nose bleeding. Kurtis turned to the Svendsens, not sure about the meaning of all this.
He frowned, watching the two Norwegians and Saija in turn.
"And what am I supposed to do?" the mercenary said in a voice devoid of emotion.
No one answered him. The henchmen left the room, leaving him suddenly alone with the prisoner. A heavy, oppressive silence settled over the room. He turned slowly to the man beside him, watching his frail figure and bloody face. Feeling the mercenary's gaze upon him, the man painfully raised his head and met his eyes. His breathing was wheezing, extremely disturbing.
"Please..." he managed to articulate through his lips.
The mercenary remained unmoved by him. The glove suddenly began to vibrate a little more, and to heat up seriously. He felt himself merging with it, as if the object was diffusing its evil energy through his skin. The man pleaded with him one last time with his eyes.
He held out his arm and the glove in front of him.
—
Tobias and Miranda stood motionless behind the large glass window, one next to the other, their arms crossed over their chests. A broad smile lit up the man's face.
"This is even more promising than I thought," he murmured.
Miranda nodded slowly. She was trying hard to control the euphoria that had taken hold of her.
"At last we're getting somewhere," his wife said, turning to him. "But we have to be careful. The injection worked well, but I sense that he's still resisting inside."
Tobias turned to his wife.
"He won't last long, don't worry. It's only a matter of time."
Their eyes met in the darkness. They glittered more than ever.
—
He approached the woman sitting at her desk. It was late, the rest of the lab was deserted, but she was still concentrating on her notes. A huge book lay beside her, but it was not a modern book. He moved a little closer. The pages, worn by time, were covered with all sorts of annotations. He also discerned some sketches that looked awfully familiar.
She turned a page. Another sketch. The one of the glove, elegantly detailed. On the other page, a whole series of formulas and symbols. To his surprise, he was able to decipher some of them: the language used was Lux Veritatis.
There was a list of several elements: sulphur, phosphorus, copper, iron and potassium. His heart leapt in his chest.
The Sanglyph's elements
There was something else too, a sixth element, which however, was unknown to him.
Prima Materia
He was startled when the half-breed abruptly closed the book and turned around. He stepped back hastily as she stood up and left the room in a hurry. The room began to revolve around him again. The furniture, the objects, the proportions became a little more blurred, until they disappeared completely. For a fraction of a second everything swirled around him. There was a jolt as his mind returned to its physical shell, and he opened his eyes again. He returned to the darkness and suffocation of his cell. He rose from the uncomfortable bed on which he had lain, and took a moment to refocus while his mind returned to its original state.
His plan had worked so far, even if it was becoming more and more trying. He knew perfectly well how to play the docile man with them, but the experiments had taken a new turn in the last few days. The Svendsens were making dangerous progress. If he didn't find a way to stop them soon, there would be no turning back. He had to find a way to destroy the glove, which was becoming far too powerful. But to do this, he was missing a central element, namely, how to destroy it.
He had to find a way to access Miranda's lab. The Norwegian didn't feel her presence when he used his clairvoyance, which was a good thing. But Saija was constantly in his way, spying on him, and it was clear that Tobias had instructed his men to watch her every move. He had to be very careful, but he had no other option. This could not continue. He wouldn't have the strength to go on like this for long.
Before it's too late
—
SOME DAYS AFTER
She slowed her pace as she finally saw the door she was looking for, a little further down the corridor. She walked silently along the wall, her eyes fixed on her objective. She remained attentive to what was happening around her, although she knew she would have no problem in hearing someone approaching. In this part of the base, everything was constantly dark, which helped her to progress undetected. And as far as she knew, there was on one around, everyone else was going about their business at the other side of the base. She would therefore be alone for a few moments and take her time.
She passed by the door that led to her own room - although it was more officially a refurbished cell -, and walked a few more metres before pressing herself against the wall, right next to another door. She turned her head to one side and then the other, before placing her hand gently on the handle. It creaked as she tried to turn it. But the door didn't open.
The young woman felt foolish in front of this rusty door that resisted her. She pushed the handle a second time, but the door did not open this time either. She looked at it from all angles, her eyebrows furrowed. She understood what was wrong when her eyes fell on the small box placed on the wall, next to the door - a small box with a series of metal buttons, and a magnetic card reader.
Since when is the American entitled to a secure cell?
The system was the very same as the one used for her own cell and that of Miranda and Tobias. But she didn't have the magnetic card to access it.
That would have been too easy, of course
She rolled her eyes in annoyance. She took a step back and stood in front the door. Then, after checking again the surroundings and the corridor at a glance, she held out her hand towards the box, palm facing it. She took a simple breath and concentrated on the numbers she could somehow feel though her hand. She felt the metal begin to heat up not far from her skin as she mentally worked on it.
After only a few seconds, all the keys on the keyboard lit up as one. There was a loud click, and the door eventually opened. The young woman smiled with satisfaction.
That was a child's play
Without wasting any time, she pushed the heavy door open and slipped inside. The door closed behind her with a soft slam. The cell was no more luxurious than the others: there were only a few basic pieces of furniture, including a single cot in one corner. On an old table that served as a desk on the other side of the room, there were a few loose items, and on a chair, folded clothes.
The young assistant took a few steps into the room, still on the lookout. She first approached the bed. The cover was pushed back but neatly folded. She lifted the pillow, before putting it back in place. She knelt down and took a quick look under the iron frame. Nothing.
She got up and then turned to the table behind her. As she approached the furniture, she let her fingers slide over the large leather jacket which was on the chair. She grabbed the shirt next to it, and couldn't resist unfolding it and burying her face in it. She took in his so manly, slightly woody but elegant scent, with a few notes of fresh tobacco. A shiver ran through her from head to toe. She finally put the shirt down almost reluctantly, still lost in her thoughts.
She then took the time to search the leather jacket, sliding her hand into all the pockets. She found nothing, before finally coming across a mobile phone in one of the side pockets. It was switched off.
Saija stood up and glanced towards the door. The surroundings were still quiet, there was no one around. She knew he would be away for a while, but she had to be quick anyway. She hurriedly turned on the phone, which took several seconds to light up. Unsurprisingly, she needed a code to unlock it.
She took a moment to think, but the more she thought about it, the more it appeared obvious to her she didn't need to try to unlock it. There were too many possible combinations, and she had no time to waste.
Too bad I can't unlock mobile phones just by thinking too…
Her lips parted in a wry smile. She was capable of much more than that, but this was neither the time nor the place to get so upset for so little. And even if she had managed to unlock it, it was highly likely that she would not have found anything interesting in it. The American was clearly the kind of man who kept to himself and hid the slightest information about himself. She couldn't imagine him being stupid enough to put sensitive information about himself in his laptop, within reach of the first hacker.
She had to be much more subtle than that, and not take the easy way out, because it was clear that the American did not.
That's good, I like challenges
Saija turned the laptop off and put it back into the pocket where she had found it. She then got her attention to the desk, and all the papers that were there. Apart from a few notes on current projects, she couldn't find anything interesting either. That's when she noticed a sort of golden metal disc in a corner. Curious, she approached a little more and reached out to grab it, but no sooner had her fingers touched it than the metal began to heat up and burn her instantly. She let out a cry of surprise mixed with pain and immediately withdrew her hand. Her eyes remained fixed on the weapon, she was appalled.
"What the…?" she murmured.
She stood there for a few seconds, watching in every detail the metal disc, which had not moved. In appearance, it had nothing special, except for its strangely hypnotizing golden colour, and a series of holes in the metal itself, which supposedly were some kind of places where one could put their fingers to grab it or hold it.
It looks like a kind of brass knuckle
She had never seen such a weapon before. A little frightened, but also highly intrigued, Saija reached out again, unable to resist the temptation.
But just as her fingers were about to close on it, there was a loud snap and the weapon's blades suddenly unfolded. The young woman gasped. The disc flew off the desk with a slight hiss, taking a few sheets of paper with it, and came to stop in front of her, as if to warn her. The young woman watched the weapon float silently before her, unable to make a move. Still on her guard, she carefully observed its movements, intrigued by its golden light. Then, as she slowly regained her composure and confidence, she started concentrating on it ; her eyes fixed on it and did not leave it.
She felt the heat coming to her face, and her brain literally boiling from effort. She concentrated a little more, drawing on her strength a little further. But the disc did not bend to her will. The weapon did not weaken before her and resisted. Saija felt its vibrations run through her as she drew on her last bit of strength to fight it.
But soon the concentration gave way to anger, as she suddenly felt overwhelmed for not succeeding in taming it. Faced with this failure, she eventually stopped struggling. As if to taunt her, the chirugai approached a few more inches, before turning around and slowly returning to its original place. She followed the disc with her eyes until it landed softly on the desk. Its light went out and its blades retracted. The room fell silent again, as if nothing had happened.
The assistant took a moment to calm down and refocus. She could feel the blood pulsing against her temples and the sweat beading in fine drops on her forehead. This exercise had exhausted her. The weapon was much more powerful than she had thought. Which was a good thing, in a way. The strength and power concentrated in this disc revealed the extent of the American's power. She had guessed right.
It can be no one else but him
After one last look at the flying disc to make sure it wasn't moving anymore, Saija turned and took a quick tour of the room. Her gaze then fell on the travel bag that was lying on the floor, not far from the bed. It was half open. Watching the chirugai out of the corner of her eye once again, the young woman walked around the chair and bent down to peek inside. Delicately, she rummaged through the mercenary's belongings, not without holding back a shiver of pleasure when she spotted a couple of boxers in the pile. She was about to let go, when her hand closed on a rectangular object, whose material seemed to be leather. The young woman took out of the bag a small notebook, rolled up and closed with several leather straps. A small metal cross, or what looked like a sort medallion of some sort, hung from one of them.
Carefully, Saija undid the leather straps and began to leaf through the pages, which were blackened with notes and sketches.
It looks like a kind of travel notebook
She was surprised to discover a whole bunch of notes of all kinds, on places, weapons, legends, and especially on demonic creatures. She found a lot of historical and religious references, sometimes even related to dark forces and black alchemy. At the turn of a page, she came across a sketch of what could have been a painting: the mercenary had depicted, in outline, what looked like a winged demon and an angel dressed in a long toga, and who stood side by side. On the next page, there was a group of angels forming a squadron coming down to earth.
The paintings...
"What are you doing here?"
She jumped so violently that she dropped the notebook. It fell at her feet, but she did not even think of picking it up. She jerked up to face Kurtis, who had just entered the room. She first looked all around, unable to face his azur eyes.
"I was just making sure you were comfortable in here."
The young man did not reply. He simply walked into the room, his face serious and darkened with doubts and suspicion. She could feel the anger bubbling up inside him, and that strangely amused her.
"What are you looking for? What the hell are you doing here?" he asked in a hissing voice.
Saija, trying to take the opposite approach, walked towards him. She felt the American's azure gaze pierce her.
"Nothing. Like I said, I was just having a look around. I see Miranda and Tobias are taking good care of you. Looks like they're kind of proud of their new pet."
"How did you get in?"
The assistant let out an extremely exagerated laugh. She reached into one of her suit pockets and pulled out a badge. It was her own access badge, but the mercenary wouldn't know that. She was ready to try this bluff, and with a bit of luck, he would notice nothing.
"Tobias and Miranda told me to keep an eye on you, so that's what I'm doing," she answered as she agitated the badge in front of him.
"Stop playing the littl' stalker and just get your fucking ass outta here."
"There are plenty of other things I'd like to play with you…" she replied as she slowly stepped towards the American.
"You won't get anything from me. Just stop pissing me off, Saija."
The young woman took another step forward and stopped right in front of him. For a moment, they just stood there, facing one another and challenging each other with sustained gazes. Saija then raised one hand, and she reached out with her fingers in an effort to move aside the strands of hair that fell across the mercenary's forehead. She did not break eye contact with him.
"You know that I'd be more than pleased to share all your little secrets with you…"
Suddenly, she saw a kind of lightning flashing through the young man's eyes. Before she could react, Kurtis grabbed her by the wrist to make her stop, and held her tight.
"What were you lookin' for?" he repeated.
His voice was calm but he was clearly out of his mind.
"Nothing at all..." lied the young woman, who continued to kind of enjoy the situation.
She felt his fingers tighten around her forearm, and strangely enough her smile widened.
"You'd better be careful..."
"Or what?" the young woman asked provocatively.
No emotion showed on the young man's face, but she could clearly see his chest moving faster and feel the heat warming up his skin as anger slowly rose inside him. Then, after a second's hesitation, he finally released the pressure on her wrist and let go of her by slightly pushing her away. She immediately felt the blood pulsing violently at the pressure points the mercenary had exerted around her forearm, where his fingers had imprinted on her skin.
"Never mind, I like it in the hard way..." she said ironically.
The young man preferred to ignore her remark, clearly disgusted by her attitude.
"Don'tcha ever dare coming here again."
"Or what? What will you do to me?" she told him, her voice as provocative as ever.
The young woman was coming back to the mercenary, as if to challenge him again. He pushed her away with a wave of his hand as she tried to touch him again, her large eyes giving him more than revealing signals.
"Get out of here, we've got work to do. And I've had enough of your bullshits."
With both firmness and determination, the young woman grabbed Kurtis by the chin and looked him straight in the eye. A smirk formed at the corner of her lips.
"We'll see about that later, then."
The American shook his head, and get out of her reach. Obviously disappointed by this rejection, the assistant then took the way out, before stopping on the doorstep. She raised her head proudly, full of arrogance. Their eyes met for a brief moment. Her sweet smile had completely disappeared from her thin, youthful face, replaced by a hard, extremely serious expression.
"Don't forget that I'll be watching you at all times, cowboy."
With that, she tucked her badge into one of her pockets, and in an almost theatrical move, she left the room, followed by her ponytail which whipped through the air behind her. Her footsteps echoed as she gradually disappeared into the dark hallway. She didn't turned back.
All of her good mood had slowly faded away. She didn't feel like laughing anymore. Not that she felt disappointed by the mercenarie's words and rejection. That's the way she liked to play, actually. But he was resisting her. And she hated when people resisted her like that. But she couldn't say she was surprised. It would have been surprising if he had given in so easily. It proved his strength of character. And it confirmed what she had sensed.
She knew she would find a way to make him give in. Sooner or later. She just had to be patient. But for the moment, she had to stay focused on the Svendsen's projects as much as possible.
She took a corridor to her right and headed for the laboratories. She heard a howl in the distance, and absently massaged her wrist.
The pain was still there, but already the marks on her skin had disappeared.
—
LATER THAT NIGHT
He held back the cell door so that it would not slam behind him. As he had expected, the west wing of the building was completely deserted at this late hour of the night. He had narrowly avoided some of the goons making their rounds a little further into the prisoner's quarters. Miranda had given him a pass to the archive room and some of the experimental rooms, but he preferred to keep a low profile in any case.
The room was lit only by a very faint LED light, which shone along the ceiling. It was officially Miranda's research office, but he realised that she was hiding more than just experimental reports here. He started to look around the office, but found nothing. So he went to the glass cabinet at the back of the room. It was a sort of secure cabinet, with shelves full of various books, files, but also objects and research material. He was about to open the protective glass, when he realised that it was closed by a security system.
Obviously
He observed the digital box. Obviously, he did not have the code to open it. He took a second to think before acting, but he didn't have time to look for the combination that would open the protective glass. He had to be quick. He raised the may and placed it in front of the security box. He cleared his mind, and let the warmth gradually invade his limbs. The door in front of him vibrated and he heard a sort of creaking sound. He suddenly closed his fist and brought it towards him, which caused a jolt in the furniture. The lock popped off and the glass door opened. He hadn't even had to break in. Since the Svendsens had released him from his torture cell, he felt much stronger. His senses were even sharper, and his powers had increased tenfold. Unfortunately, he wasn't sure if this was a good sign for him.
Kurtis plunged his hand inside to retrieve all the paperwork he could find. He quickly searched through the binders, finding nothing of interest except for administrative paperwork that sometimes dated back to the 1940s. He quickly put them aside to concentrate on the biggest book. The one Miranda had been working on earlier in the evening.
Just as he was about to pick it up, his hand hung in the air, a few centimetres from the book's binding. He had not yet taken hold of it and could already feel the evil waves emanating from it. His fingers finally closed over it to take it off the shelf where it lay. The mercenary moved to an adjacent desk.
The book was heavy, and the pages extremely battered. Its black leather cover was cracked, even torn in places. He opened it carefully and began to look through it. As he had indeed seen in his vision, the book was filled with countless notes of all kinds, sketches and diagrams, sometimes written in Latin, sometimes in the language of Lux Veritatis. In it he found strangely familiar data, especially about his order and, of course, about the Nephili. Some of it echoed his own diary, but also the Sleeper Scrolls that he had spent so much time translating and studying. However, these were much more technical aspects of alchemy.
All of Eckhardt's knowledge
Or at least the copy that Bickenbach made at the time. All of Eckhardt's work, several centuries of research into the darkest forms of alchemy and the darkest forces, were here, in this book.
Kurtis went through each page carefully, although he felt the time was running out. He feared that he would be caught at any moment, but this was his only chance to find answers. He came across the engravings of the obscura paintings, which he knew all too well. Then, at the turn of a new page, his gaze was caught by a whole series of Latin texts and formulas.
The ones from my vision
Kurtis had indeed come across the pages Miranda had read a few hours earlier. He concentrated. It was a kind of list, almost like a manual, to reach a final formula. He recognised without hesitation the chemical elements Sulphur, Potassium, Iron, Copper and Phosphorus, which formed the five basic elements of the blood sign.
These five elements together, combined with the power of the glove, created the Sanglyph
Kurtis frowned.
It doesn't make sense. Why would Miranda Svendsen seek to reconstitute the Sanglyph when there's no sleepers left and her goal is obviously not to resurrect the Nephili?
He took a moment to think. Then, after a few seconds of going over the pages in front of him again, he sighed loudly, annoyed by his own lack of attention. He was looking in the wrong place.
Their research is about the glove. It's all about it
He turned back a few pages in the book. He looked in detail at the diagrams of the weapon he was now able to use as well. A thought suddenly struck him.
Only Eckhardt was supposed to be able to use the Devil's hand
He sat up. His heartbeat quickened. Eckhardt was the only one who could use the glove before, and only an adept of dark alchemy could do so. His blood ran cold through his veins.
He bent over the book again and turned the pages at full speed.
The injection had put him in a deep coma for several days. He had woken up in pain, as if every inch of his body was suddenly being torn apart. He didn't know exactly what had happened, but he had felt. He was different. He felt different. As if his senses had evolved, as if he had reached a new state of consciousness and strength. And he already knew that his powers had evolved too. Inexplicably, he could feel it. The question was: how could this be?
Eckhardt had used the powers and knowledge of the Nephili to gain power over the centuries. Father said that he had used it to create his own weapons and to destroy his rivals. The glove was forged with all his knowledge, but also with an element that was unknown to the Lux Veritatis. An element supposedly used by the Nephili before him
After another page, his eyes suddenly fell on the words Prima Materia. An expression that was foreign to him, but whose meaning he understood at once by observing the various formulas that surrounded it. He felt his breath suddenly catch.
That's what he called it. The most important element of all
He felt the world shift around him as the puzzle took shape.
This is what they injected me with
He sat up and took a second to catch his breath and pull himself together before his legs gave way under their own weight.
Bickenbach understood the extent of the powers of the Devil's Hand, and what it could do to human beings. But when Eckhardt left them here and took the glove with him, the Nazi must have been trying to replicate this element to use it as they did on me. Except that one cannot work without the other
Without the glove, the Nazis' experiments could not have succeeded. Until the Svendsens stuck their noses in, and found a way to combine the two. But Miranda had admitted it herself. The stuff they had injected Kurtis with was just a sample, and it only triggered on specific people.
People like me
He was thinking fast, trying to get his thoughts straight.
The Svendsens obviously have a limited supply of Prima Materia, but the only way to make the glove work is to bring it into contact with this element. Now that they injected me with it they will probably use me as an intermediary between them and the glove rather than use up their supply. They'll make me use the glove directly to mutate human cells
But all this gave him no answers as to how to destroy the glove.
He sighed loudly and ran a hand over his tired face. Disillusioned and lost, he flipped through the pages of the grimoire once more. He soon came across the pages on which the obscura paintings were reproduced. His gaze fell on the one depicting a battle scene, with a whole squadron of horsemen in the foreground, riding over a battlefield full of soldiers' bodies.
Kurtis realised that he had never had the opportunity to observe the paintings in detail. The originals had obviously been inaccessible because they had been hidden, but he had studied each of them in detail as a teenager during his Lux Veritatis training. He himself had reproduced them in his journal to keep a copy of them, just in case. But this was the first time he had seen these paintings from this angle. It was only a reproduction made with pencil, but the drawing was incredibly detailed. The young man admired for a moment the precision of the features, the detail in the expression of certain faces, the posture of certain soldiers, but also the framing of the painting, faithfully reproduced, with its two skeleton men on either side, one of them wrapped in his long dark cloak. There was also that human head that glowed strangely in contrast with the rest of the painting, placed above the battle scene, as if it was watching over the whole scene.
Something suddenly caught Kurtis' eye. On a very thin, barely visible line, drawn on the edge of the painting's frame, exactly below the decorative head, were words in Latin. It took him a few seconds to translate and form a complete and coherent sentence because of the small size of the letters.
"Spears and axes and swords in the Garden of Eden, that dripped blood on the green grass of the plains, on the edge of the reign of Evil and Hate."
What the...?
He observed the rest of the painting, looking at every detail, but he could not find no other quote. He glanced at the painting on the other page, the one depicting the arrival on earth of a group of angels driven from heaven. The outline of the painting was the same as on the previous one. And here again, under the head in the upper centre, another sentence in Latin was drawn.
"And His Angels were cast down with Him, far into the lost and darkest Lands of the World."
He knew the paintings almost by heart. And yet, there was something there. Something he had never noticed before and yet it had been before their eyes for centuries.
"What are you doing here?"
The young man abruptly turned around, taken aback. He found himself facing Saija, who was standing in the doorway. He had no time to react as the young woman interrupted him.
"Anyway, we need you. Come on, let's go," she told him as she nodded to him.
Reluctantly, Kurtis abandoned his search and followed her. There was a strange commotion in the air. The previously darkened base was now completely lit up, everyone seemed to be on the move. Several men hurried and walked past them as they all made their way up to the prisoners' quarters. A little further ahead, the mercenary finally saw a group of men at the entrance to one of the experiment rooms. He heard Tobias' voice echoing in the distance. A terrible feeling suddenly came over the young man.
"What's going on?" He asked Saija, his throat and mouth as dry as never.
"The freighter has arrived from the mainland."
The henchmen stepped aside so that they could pass and enter the cell. He felt his heartbeat suddenly quicken. Something was wrong, but he knew there was no way of turning back. He felt trapped, and for a second he wished it wasn't that. He wished it wasn't real. But he already knew what he would find in this cell before even entering it, for he had felt her. After weeks apart, their connection, their bond had gone back to life, like a spark turning into a burning flame.
There was a blank moment, during which his mind seemed to get away from his own body. He stepped into the cell, and discovered the woman who was held captive on a chair.