Chapter 26

Michael started after them, but there was too much ground to cover. By the time he reached their position, they were gone. The light from his sword cut through the shadowed hall beyond the door, revealing nothing.

Braver than I would have been, Michael stepped through, his Sword leading the way as he went after them. Apparently my friend wasn't quite so trusting as to believe they'd retreat that easily.

As for me, I knew they were gone. With all three Swords present, the two were desperately outnumbered, Winter Knight or no. And on holy ground, they couldn't like their odds.

With the fight over, the mantle released the power it'd been channeling into my armor. The ice began to break away as I shifted, leaving me only in my tattered suit. I noted my skin was pale, and tinging on the bluer side of the spectrum. I hoped that wasn't going to be an issue; the mantle blocked my pain and discomfort when it came to the cold, but I didn't think it'd actually protect me from frost bite. But it looked like I might be finding that out soon enough.

Sitting up, I looked to Murphy, who still held the Sword aloft. Her eyes were shining in the light, which she stared at with wonder. "It's… beautiful."

"And bright," I muttered, shielding my eyes from the glare as I pulled myself up. My voice was still a little rough.

Blinking nervously, Murphy slowly sheathed the Sword, as if afraid she might offend it by putting it away. The light faded as she did, until the church was returned to just the normal lighting that was still intact.

"Uh, Lieutenant?" one of the cops toward the front asked, his eyes wide as he looked to Murphy.

"What? Oh," she said, noticing for the first time that she had a bit of an audience.

As I'd noted in the lull of the fight, the police officers that had arrived had put themselves to work pulling the worshipers away from the action. Those same officers had been joined by others, all of whom had thankfully stayed out of it.

I attributed that to Murphy, who must have warned off the first arrivals, and to the presence of several members of Special Investigations. Detective Sergeant Rawlins was there, an older cop in Murphy's department that she could rely upon. He seemed to be in charge of the withdrawal, but even he had frozen at the sight of Murphy bearing the gleaming Sword.

"What…" the cop began, only to trail off in silence. I noted that it was the same cop we'd seen upon our arrival, the one that had been ready to gun down Michael and Sanya.

Murphy looked around nervously, her eyes alighting upon me as she tried to figure out what to do.

"Nothing to see here," I said loudly as I pushed myself off the wall. "You can go about your business."

"But… that…" the cop said. Based on the way the others were staring, he wasn't the only one in awe.

"It's a lightsaber," I said as I pushed myself forward. "Her father wanted her to have it when she was old enough." That seemed to cut through their shock, as most of them shifted their gaze to me. Not all of them seemed excited to see me there. I just waived in their direction. "Move along, move along."

"Keep getting the civies out of here," Murphy finally said, her voice breaking only once as she spoke. "They're going to need medical attention."

They weren't the only ones. As the cops slowly started moving again, I noticed several coughing and wheezing. Most had broken out into a sweat, and I wondered how far things had already spread.

Surprisingly, Murphy seemed to be doing pretty well. I wondered if that was a side-effect of the Sword. She too was looking flushed, but I wasn't sure if that was from embarrassment or bubonic plague.

"What are you doing?" she asked as she looked to me. Her words drew the attention of some of the cops, who's eyes widened as they saw a soft wind spell clearing a section of floor.

"I'm going to try and do something about this," I said, gesturing with the Shroud. It was still wrapped around my left wrist.

Murphy's eyes widened again. "You think you can stop it?"

"Maybe," I said darkly. "If not, we're screwed." I handed the Shroud to her. "Fold that up, would you?"

"Fold it?" she repeated

"Yes, woman. Fold it."

Murphy's eyebrow arched up at that. "After all this, you're falling back on chauvinistic stereotypes? Have the woman fold the laundry?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm doing," I replied in a condescending tone as I looked around the room. "Being sexist in the middle of an apocalypse. Now dammit, woman, fold the table cloth."

The banter helped Murphy refocus, putting her concerns about what the other cops had seen behind her for the moment.

While she got to work folding, I looked about for something sharp. Not wanting to use a shard of glass, I signaled Lacuna, who arrived in a flash. Toot arrived only a second later. "I need your sword."

Lacuna's blade was already in hand, and the tiny fairy offered me the minuscule hilt. "Of course, my lord. Are you ready to impart my punishment for failing you?"

"What? No," I replied with a groan as I took the small weapon. "I told you, we're good."

"But my lord—" she began.

"Luna, you've done great," I assured her as I knelt down in front of the altar. I gestured toward the wreckage around us. "I take it you requested the holy water and blessed salt?"

The captain of my Guard nodded crisply. "After our encounter in the parking lot, I knew we would need an advantage when we faced them again."

"Well, it saved my life," I told her. "And most likely saved the others as well."

"It did," Sanya said from not far away. Despite his injuries, the man was trying to stand guard around Michael's family, who had refused to leave despite the cops' efforts. After seeing Michael in action, I had no wonder as to why the officers didn't press the issue.

A hasty bandage had been tied around the wound in Sanya's leg, cutting off the blood-flow. He nodded to the fairies, more of a bow than anything. "I saw what you did to save Charity."

"It was nothing," Lacuna said with pride.

"What'd you do?" I asked as I made sure the floor was clear of any debris.

"My job," Lacuna said, as if that were enough.

"She and the other domovoi carried a bowl of holy water overhead," Sanya explained. "When they poured it over Charity, it changed Deirdre's hair back to normal. It prevented the demon from killing her until Michael could get there."

Toot seemed to bristle at that for some reason, but Lacuna shot him a warning look. "We are polevoi, not domovoi," she corrected the Russian. "And it was nothing."

"My apologies," Sanya said with a slight bow of his head. "I meant no offense, especially to you."

"What about me?" Toot asked, hooking a tiny thumb at himself. "I helped too!"

"You saved my wife," Michael said as he stormed up out of nowhere. I assumed that meant the Denarians were well and truly gone. "You all saved my family. And I thank you from the bottom of my heart."

Toot's chest puffed up at that, while Lacuna just took the compliment in stride.

With his thanks given, Michael quickly made his way over to his family, who moved to join him. It was no small matter, given the way half a dozen kids slammed into him as one. He held them close, even while wrapping an arm around his wife.

Whatever benefit Molly's attempted spell may or may not have had, the Carpenters were looking rough. The youngest were barely standing, and even the eldest were woozy on their feet. Charity seemed to be holding up better than the rest, but she'd been taken in back when the Denarians had first arrived.

Cursing myself for getting distracted, I turned my attention back to the task at hand. With my teeth clenched, I ran Lacuna's blade across the meat of my left palm.

"Fuck," I hissed, as the blood started to flow freely. That might have earned me a stern glare from certain people, but I didn't pay them any mind. Instead, I concentrated on making sure my blood dribbled out into a moderately sized circle.

Once it was done, Lacuna arrived with a piece of fabric in hand. I let her wrap the wound while I traced additional markings onto the floor around it with my other hand.

"What are you doing?" Murphy asked, her voice startled. I looked up to see that she'd folded the Shroud into a triangle, just like a flag.

"Trying to save our asses," I replied as I took the Shroud. After placing it within the circle, the folded fabric just barely fitting inside, I went about making more symbols along the edge of the sanguine ring, using the bloody tip of Lacuna's blade to make the small runes and glyphs.

"Harry," Michael said from a short distance away, his tone disapproving.

"Not now, Michael," I snapped, not wanting to hear any protests about accursed magic. And in their church, of all places. "Everyone shut up. I need to concentrate."

With everyone taking an unconscious step back, I settled into place beside the magic circle made of my blood. I dribbled some more out onto the top of the Shroud itself, just to add to the pre-existing connection.

As Cassius had said, the Shroud had been used as the centerpiece of the plague spell. And while it would most likely break down in time, possibly upon the dawn, it was still going strong. I'd hoped that separating it from Nicodemus would be enough, but with all the other pieces being anchored by his thugs, they were managing to keep the spell alive.

The squares they cut were all still connected to the larger piece through Cassius's magic and the blood used in their preparation. Shiro's blood, and my own.

It was that same aspect that would hopefully let me unravel the spell.

If I could break the spell on the piece Nicodemus had bore, it might spread to the others. Such a thing was usually impossible, but the Denarian sorcerer had provided the method when he'd prepared the spell.

He'd used my blood. My power. Which meant that a small piece of me was in each of the cursed rags. All I had to do was use that against them, and destroy it all at once.

Empowering the circle, I closed my eyes, and focused on that which was contained inside.

The Shroud was a storm of power, one that I could sense despite the difference in our 'wavelengths'. I could feel the essence of it throbbing against the barrier of my will. The sheer power of it was incredible, an object of light corrupted by darkness.

That corruption was evident as I felt at the power, tracing its shape. It was some of the darkest magic I'd ever sensed, the type formed by blood sacrifice. It crept through the ever-present power of the Shroud, dark tendrils twisting its healing nature into something profane. More tendrils drifted out, like lines reaching out to the other pieces of the Shroud across the world.

I changed the barrier around it then, letting those lines pass through while trying to contain the rest. A sludge-like darkness seemed to pulse along a dozen wispy threads of power. And at the very edge of my perception, I could almost sense the other pieces.

It was a dizzying type of magic, the connection through time and space unlike anything I'd ever felt before. The magic was uniting what had been separated in a way that normal thaumaturgy did not. And it wasn't just trying to reach across town; they'd sent pieces thousands of miles apart. Some still hadn't faced nightfall, while others might have already seen the dawn.

I poured my power into the blood I'd spilled, trying to strengthen that connection. My head swam as the circle in my mind shone with a crimson light. I knew if I opened my eyes, nothing but a dull scarlet would lay upon the floor of the church. But in my head, my magic was alive, strengthening the connections between the pieces of the Shroud.

My forehead broke out into a sweat as I reached for each piece. My mind raced along the tendrils, latching on to a portion of the cloth. I bound it tighter to the main segment, strengthening the bond. And then I was racing to the next, trying to tie them together one by one.

But before I was halfway done, the first came unraveled. The second followed, and then the third.

Cursing, I ripped off the bandage Lacuna had tied into place and reached for her sword. When I found it, I stabbed it into my palm, and then thrust my hand into the circle. It broke the barrier, but that was fine. It wasn't going to work without more power.

"Harry," Murphy called from somewhere nearby. I still hadn't opened my eyes, as I was too busy concentrating on the spell.

"Needs more," I muttered in reply. The fingers of my left hand were twitching, but they held the tiny sword well enough to allow me to stab my right palm with it. More blood flowed, and I threw the blade aside and let the blood drip onto the cloth.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph," Murphy breathed, her voice filled with shock.

"Harry, stop," Michael said. He sounded much closer than he'd been.

"I can do this," I told them through gritted teeth.

And then, shutting them out, I concentrated on reforming the circle of my will, as my blood and power drenched the Shroud.

A new tinge joined the light power of the Shroud and the dark power of the curse. Something silver and red, coursing along the threads and reaching for the other pieces. I quickly rebound them, tying each tight in my power. I was faster this time, and the bonds held. One by one they were bound, until I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that I'd gotten each and every one.

A silly grin slipped onto my lips as I united the cut Shroud, not physically, but spiritually. The bonds were strong. I had them. I could do this.

But as I began to pour more power in, to try and burn out the corruption laced between the pieces, my veins erupted into fiery agony.

"Aaaghya!" I screamed, my eyes flying open as I fell back, my arms spasming as pain shot through me.

"Harry!" Murphy shouted, and I saw her crouch over me. But it was Michael's hand beneath my head, preventing me from braining myself on the hard floor.

My body spasmed at the magical backlash. I tried to gather my thoughts, but it hurt to think. I tried to speak, but I found my tongue thick and sluggish.

"It's alright, Harry," Michael said, his tone worried. "You tried."

"No," I managed to get out, trying to shove him away. My bloody hand left a smear on his armored chest. "I had it."

"We need to get you out of here," Michael said. I noticed as I looked up at him that his skin looked feverish. "The curse is affecting you now."

His comment chilled me. I looked down at my hands, and wasn't terribly surprised to see how pale they were. I'd just gouged myself several times and bled all over the place, after all.

But there was also a mottled tinge present that had nothing to do with blood-loss, and everything to do with the plague curse.

"Son of a bitch," I gasped out, realizing that the cold sweat across my forehead wasn't from trying to channel so much magic, but from the diseases spreading across my body.

The mantle had been keeping it at bay, but that seemed to have stopped. Maybe it was because I was bonding myself to the curse. By adding my power to it, I had left myself open to it.

My defenses were down. I was dying. Fast.

"We need to get him out of here," Murphy was saying. I realized the two were pulling at my arms, trying to pick me up.

"No, stop. Stop!" I insisted, pulling away as I scowled at them. "You don't understand. I have to finish."

"Harry, you tried—" Michael began.

"No, Michael, listen," I hissed at him with urgency. "All I've done so far is strengthen the bonds between the pieces."

My friend looked at me with confusion. "So?"

"So, if I stop now, then all I'll have done is make the curse stronger," I replied shortly. "I'll have just added power to this thing, helping to sustain it longer."

Michael and Murphy shared a look as Sanya cursed behind them.

"Harry, whatever you were doing, it hurt you," Michael said.

"Yeah, well, that's my fault," I explained as I leaned back toward the circle. "I'm using my power to not only bind the the pieces, but also burn out the curse. There was a bit of a feedback loop."

I wished Bob was there. He'd understand. More importantly, he might have an idea on how I could get around the issue of killing myself to complete the spell. Maybe by creating a greater circle, or using foci.

"Foci," I said, startling myself. I looked around. "I need foci."

"What kind of foci?" Sanya asked from behind Michael, looking doubtful. "Magical supplies?"

"No," I said quickly. "Five objects. Things that are on the same wavelength as the Shroud. That I can use to reinforce the healing, purifying the power in it."

Michael looked between the other three. "I don't know about five. But we can do three."

"Three…" I said slowly, before trailing off as Michael drew Amoracchius.

The Sword shone with light as it cleared his sheath. It'd only ever done that in the presence of evil, as far as I knew. I hoped that it wasn't currently shining because of me.

Michael lay the sword down along the edge of my circle, the beautiful blade making the bloody smears on the floor look crude and ugly. As he withdrew his hand, the blade remained aglow.

"Does it normally do that?" I asked, swallowing nervously as I looked at it.

"It's light shines when needed," Michael replied confidently.

"But… this magic…" I said. "It's not exactly what you'd condone."

"You are doing good, Harry," Michael assured me. "The Lord sees that."

The light grew as Sanya and Murphy both drew their own blades out, both of which shone with power as they placed them around the circle. Point to hilt, the three formed a triangle around my ring of blood, mirroring the form of the folded Shroud.

I usually use five foci in my magic. One for each aspect. Earth, fire, wind, water, heart. No, wait, that was the cartoon. Scrub the last, and replace it with spirit. Five components of nature forming the five components of magic. Five is a powerful number.

But you know what? Three is a powerful number, too.

"Stand back," I told them needlessly as I crouched once again before the circle.

This time when I closed my eyes, the light shone through my eyelids, a bright scarlet-white illumination that was almost distracting. But I ignored it, and instead brought my power to bear.

I gasped as my magic touched the power of the Swords. It was unlike anything I'd wielded before. Not better, but purer. Not superior, but surer. A power born of something I knew nothing about, but power that had put itself at my disposal, for the greater good.

What's more, it was like the power of the Shroud. The power I'd felt back at my home, when I'd studied the unsullied cloth. It was the same, but somehow so much more.

In a sea of white light, I took hold of that power. Not possessing it, because I knew that trying to do so would kill me. It wasn't mine to claim.

But I could direct it.

Shaping the power of the Swords with my own, I sent it out into the world. A sphere appeared in my mind, one that represented the Earth itself. Our power spread over it, reaching for the pieces of the Shroud. Not one at a time, but all at once. Instantly.

I could feel it then, the darkness that had seeped into the cloth. Could recognize it for the corrupting force that it was. I'd thought I could differentiate the darkness from the light, and had tried to pull one from the other.

But in the light of the Swords, I could see that there was no salvaging the Shroud. What I'd seen before was tainted and gray, an impure power that had already been twisted so far from its original purpose and state that it could no longer become what it'd once been.

I shivered, and tried to ignore the sense that, if I cared to look, the Swords would show me another power present that had been too twisted by darkness to ever hope to recover.

Instead, I focused on the Shroud. I could see that the curse was trying to spread to the Swords just as it had to my own power. To try and corrupt it like it had my blood. But the power from the blades was too pure, too great, and the corruption smoked and curled wherever it tried to reach out.

And at that, I realized we were at a standstill. The Swords could not undo the damage done to the Shroud; they were not tools of healing, no matter what Michael might have said. Nor could the corrupted Shroud taint the Swords. Neither could affect the other.

Which meant it would be up to lil ol' me.

Rather than using the Swords to destroy the curse, I instead directed it to the bonds holding the pieces together. It was quick work to replace my power with that from the blades. White threads wound with gray, uniting the fabric across the globe. In the light from the Swords, I could see dozens of dark threads that I hadn't seen before, each a hair-thin tendril extending out into the world. I wasn't sure what that meant, but I could see that the power of the Swords bound those as well.

I sighed, taking a moment to gather my own power. Now that it was no longer being used to bond the pieces, I could train it on the curse itself. Once again I poured it into the circle. It traveled out along the tendrils, touching upon the pieces everywhere they existed. Silver and red power pulsed, winding its way around the black sludge. The two powers blended, as the darkness tried to take my power into itself, to strengthen it.

I let it.

I knew I couldn't purify the Shroud, not in the way I'd hoped. If that ability was beyond the Swords, it was well above and beyond anything I could dream of. So as the curse ate at my power, I let enough seep in to bind the two together. To make sure every last bit of black sludge contained a piece of my will.

And then, I let my power do what it did best.

"Fuego."

The word was nothing more than a whisper, but it was the spell heard round the world.

Bells chimed as my magic erupted into an inferno, a fiery cauldron of power that burned the corrupted cloth wherever it was. Bound by the Swords, connected by my blood, saturated in my power, the plague curse had nowhere to hide.

My eyes opened as the folded Shroud burst into flames, a towering column that burned with a white light. It joined with the light of the Swords, making the front of the church the brightest place on the planet. Anywhere that was currently shrouded in night, at least.

The flaming, brittle cloth burned hotly, quickly, until it suddenly petered out. As it did, the light from the Swords slowly began to wane, until they too were reflecting nothing more than the mundane lights overhead.

Lightheaded, I turned to Murphy, who was staring at me with eyes as wide as they'd go. I gave her a sloppy smile as I waived my arms, unintentionally splattering blood all about as I wiggled my hands.

"Ta-da."

And then I collapsed into a dead faint.