Previously on Ivory Tower:

Stepping up to the chair in the middle of the room, the fat man looked down at the blonde young woman tied and blindfolded there. The tattered remnants of a gray cloak formed her bindings, and she was covered in long-dried blood.

A slow grin crawled across the fat man's face. "Time to go, poppet."

Ivory Tower

Chapter 6: Ashes to Ashes

When the Wright Brothers performed their well-publicized Kitty Hawk flight, they convinced the world that human flight was no longer a dream of old Italians in stone towers. Others had flown before them, but that 120-foot flight sparked the imaginations of inventors and investors like nothing before. Within 20 years, the aviation industry was booming worldwide. Zeppelins, blimps, and fixed-wing aircraft repeatedly defied gravity to bring mankind into the sky. In time, a college dropout from Texas would claim the reins of the aviation industry, but on September 4th, 1926, Billy Steele was still king of the runway.

The founder of Steele Industries, William Steele, Sr., had seen the possibilities in powered flight, and put all of his drive, funding, and effort into building one of the first aircraft-empires. His empire, operating out of its New York headquarters, spread from coast to coast.

His son, William Steele Jr., had always been obsessed with flight and, thanks to his father's business acumen; had plenty of runways and planes to practice on. In no time at all, "Billy" Steele was one of the best aviators in the world.

It was to this headquarters that Flynn directed a cab. Stepping out, he beheld massive hangars and long airstrips lined with aircraft large and small. He turned to catch the expressions of his companions.

Kenta looked dumbstruck, turning slowly in place to behold the technological marvels. Delilah maintained her haughty and aloof expression, but her eyes and posture spoke of her awe.

"Never been to an airfield, have you?" Flynn asked, spirits momentarily lifted. His companions shook their heads. "Billy tells me that trains are for the last century, and boats are for the century before." He chuckled. "I'd never felt so old before."

He led the others over to the smallest building on the runway, a sturdy brick one-story with several large windows. Raising his cane, he smartly rapped on the front door.

"Come on in," came the muffled reply. Flynn opened the door and gestured the two of them inside.

Delilah stepped inside the squat building. She glanced around the room at the the many pictures of planes, in flight or on the ground, eyes finally settling on the large desk towards the back of the room. Seated behind the desk, facing away from the front door, was an athletic young man in practical clothing. As he turned to face them, Delilah's eyes roved over his well-defined musculature, his rumpled hair, and the million-dollar smile he was flashing. She had him categorized under 'roguish, charming, and very young' before he had even finished standing to greet them.

"Welcome, welcome. Flynn, I'm glad you told me you were coming. I had time to clear my schedule." The young man strode up to the BI investigator, vigorously pumping his hand. Turning to Delilah, he remarked to Flynn, "Now, you old coot, why don't you introduce me to this gorgeous dame?" He bowed and, taking her hand, kissed it gently.

She laughed indulgently. "My, my. Quite the charmer, aren't you, Mr. Steele?" Since he was already touching her, this next part should be very easy indeed…

Steele straightened suddenly as if electrified, his cheeks reddening. Flynn rolled his eyes and carried on with the introductions. "Billy, this is Delilah James, operator of the Ivory Tower down in the City. Delilah, this is Billy Steele, one of the finest aviators and most eligible young bachelors in America."

Instead of being further embarrassed by his introduction, Steele puffed out his chest a little. "True, very true." Delilah laughed gaily at the display, covering her mouth with a lacy handkerchief in an attempt to stifle her humor.

Repressing the urge to roll his eyes again, Flynn gestured toward Kenta, who was absorbed in examining the pictures along the office walls. "That is Kenta, a…" he paused, thinking of a tactful way of describing the old man's line of work.

"Soldier of fortune." Kenta finished, turning to face the others and aiming a short bow in Steele's direction. "It is an honor to meet you, Mr. Steele. I have heard of your courage and skill from Flynn."

Steele blinked at Kenta's formal tone. Turning to Flynn, he whispered, "Where did you pick this one up? He sounds like my grandfather…" his voice trailed off as Kenta removed the obscuring hat. "Oh."

Flynn chuckled briefly. Suddenly, he remembered that he wasn't here to visit good friends. "Billy, I've got a favor to ask of you."

Billy brightened up, rubbing his hands together. "What can I do for you, Mr. Inspector?"

"I need to get to Kansas. As close to the center as possible. We're looking for…" his voice caught. He swallowed, "…a friend." he finished.

Billy looked confused, but nodded anyway. "Sure thing, pal. I'll fly you there myself. My father just had an airfield built near Salina. Might be a little rough, but with me on the throttle, everything'll be fine." He grinned at his three guests. Delilah's smile faltered briefly, and Kenta was already turning slightly green.

"You guys alright back there?"

"…Mr. Steele, I bow to your greater understanding of flight, but is it absolutely necessary to hit every pocket of 'turbulence' between New York and Kansas?"

"Hrmph!"

"Don't worry, Kenta, we'll be touching down soon. Just close your eyes and think of…swords?"

By the time Billy landed the four-seater in the flattened patch of dirt he called "Air Salina Central", Kenta had gone from fish-belly white to a worrisome green. Flynn, seated behind him on the plane, was the first to touch ground and seek cover. Delilah, unsure of what was going on, leapt from the plane and landed lightly on the dirt runway before moving off rather swiftly. The two of them observed as Kenta tipped himself over the side of the airplane and crashed into the ground, headfirst. Billy, seeing this, jumped from his plane and rushed to the old man's side.

The industrialist was obviously shaken, kneeling and shaking the old man. "Kenta, Kenta? Are you alright? Can you hear me?" He partially turned toward Delilah and Flynn, neither of whom had moved. "What are you waiting for? Go…" he stopped as something grabbed his wrist. He froze, gaping, as Kenta stood up and cracked his neck.

The aged mercenary's hand gripped a fistful of dirt, and Flynn noted that his color had vastly improved. "Mr. O'Connell, are you so sure we can find what we are looking for? This land feels…vast." Kenta asked as he stood up.

Flynn gritted his teeth, but nodded. Taking his cane, he drew a large circle on the ground and stepped inside. As Delilah and Kenta watched, fascinated, he knelt down in the very center and began drawing runes all around himself. Billy watched until boredom moved him toward the lonely wooden shack currently standing in place of a proper hangar.

Flynn O'Connell finished sketching out his circle of Finding. As he knelt, he considered each of the runes. Biting his thumb, he reached over and dropped some blood on the confining circle, pushing his will into it, closing him off from the rest of the world.

Settling back, he began to focus. He allowed the impatience he had been feeling since Elizabeth had gone missing to fill him, fed by each delay and every minute not spent finding her. Passing his still-bleeding hand over a set of runes, he declared in a loud voice, "Ardtábhacht!" The runes began to glow a fiery red as he poured the urgency of his call into them.

He grimaced at the pull on his magic. Moving on to the second set of runes, he prepared himself. All of a sudden, all of the fear he had been carrying for days washed over him. Fear that she was already dead, fear that he was too slow, fear that she would die because of his failure. He allowed his fear to flow through him before he imposed his will upon it, face twisting in effort as he bent it into the runes before him. "Sioctha le heagla" he barked, voice shaking. The runes he had just bled upon began to emit a deep green light.

Again, Flynn's spell pulled at his magic. The air within the circle felt thick with power, and he had to fight as he turned toward the final set of runes. His impatience and fear were drained, leaving only exhaustion and one, final feeling.

He focused on his memories of Elizabeth. Meeting as children to be taught the ways of magic, growing together as they discovered their power and learned to control it. Her bold curiosity had pulled him from the gloom of his past. The day they were presented before the White Council as Edmund Jackson's apprentices, he had clung to her for strength under the stern gazes of ancient and terrible men. The day they were recognized as full members of the White Council, she had drawn him aside…

For over fifty years, they had been the best of friends and the closest of lovers. When she had decided to join the Wardens, he had been heartbroken. Since then, they had stayed in contact, but it had been over ten years since they'd last spoken face to face.

He pushed aside his rising regret and focused instead on the love he felt for Elizabeth Nin. He recalled the things they had shared, the years they spent together, and allowed that love to fill him completely. Pulling out a pocketknife, he reopened the cut on his thumb and bled on the last set of runes, whispering, "Grá". A brilliant blue erupted from the rune beneath his hand.

Utterly spent, he had enough energy to set down the intended focus, a lock of blonde hair, before breaking the circle. The runes exploded into the air around him, spinning and growing smaller until they settled on the blonde tress in front of him and disappearing. The focus glowed brightly before softening to a dull yellow fluorescence.

Kenta stepped over and helped the wizard to his feet. Flynn nodded his thanks and retrieved the locket. He felt its gentle pull leading him away, off of the unfinished airfield and into the nearby cornfields.

"That way," he gasped out, pointing with a shaking hand. Delilah slipped under his shoulder, supporting the exhausted man while Kenta went off to let Billy know that they had a heading.

Not long after the old man had walked into the wooden hangar, a roar resounded from within. The doors burst open and a silver Model T burst through, engine roaring in a manner totally unbefitting of the vehicle. The car pulled up alongside the waiting pair and screeched to a halt.

Billy grinned from the driver's seat. "Ford sent a couple of these to my father for Christmas. This one needed some work, so we left it out here. Good thing, eh?" He reached back and tapped the expanded back seat. "Get your chassis in here!"

The car flew along the road, followed by a massive dust cloud. Flynn sat, recovering, in the front seat. The focus tugged him ever onward, growing stronger as they drove.

In the back, Delilah turned to Kenta. "So, could you have done that tracking spell? It seems to have taken a great deal out of Mr. O'Connell."

Kenta shook his head. "I would need a focus. He is the only one who knows this 'Elizabeth', so only he could have such a thing. And…" he trailed off as Flynn suddenly straightened up and pointed.

"There, down that turn. She's there."

Billy pulled up to an abandoned farmhouse. Flynn was frowning at his focus, which suddenly felt leaden and sluggish. Still, he stepped out with Delilah and Kenta. The three of them stood in front of the dilapidated structure for a few moments before Billy remarked, "Well, I'm gonna take this thing for a quick trip around, search for tire tracks and whatnot. Good luck with the creepy house."

He gunned the engine and peeled off around the side of the house. There, he noticed a dust cloud rising off in the distance, leading away from the house. He glanced back, but decided to check this lead on his own. Flynn said this was the place, and Billy trusted the magic-wielding Bureau of Investigation employee to know what he was talking about.

Flynn muscled through the front door, cane-sword out and ready for use. Behind him, Delilah and Kenta cautiously entered. They found Flynn kneeling by two blood-covered bodies wearing suits, his free hand checking for a pulse. He looked up and shook his head.

"No pulse, but the bodies are still warm. I'd say that they're less than an hour old." The investigator stood and hurried through the house, eyes sweeping the rooms for any clues, any sign of his target. He spotted a bloody smudge on the top of the stairs, as if someone coming up had wiped their shoe.

Kenta shared a glance with Delilah before heading up the stairs to the second floor. She, in turn, headed for the basement stairs, where Flynn stopped her. He gestured to the bloody smudge, and grinned tightly when she stepped back and motioned him to go in front.

Flynn carefully descended, alert for any surprises. The first thing he saw when he arrived in the basement was a corpse, similar in dress to those above. The only other object in the room was a stout wooden chair, with scraps of gray cloth still bound on the front legs.

With a scream of rage, Flynn ran forward and kicked the chair to splinters. Delilah watched in shock as the normally-suave and gathered man began going through every oath or curse available to English before dipping into another, harsher language.

Delilah thought about trying to calm him down, but… 'Let him work his rage out now,' she thought, 'that way he can focus when it truly matters. I simply cannot believe we only missed her by an hour. Or that we still have not found out who is in charge of those attacks!' A sudden rumble that she felt in her bones interrupted her inner monologue. A few seconds passed, and then it happened again, falling into a rhythm.

'Thoom-thump, thoom-thump, thoom-thump' it sounded, shaking the house ever so slightly. Her brow wrinkled. 'Is Kenta doing something strange again? Or…' her thoughts were again derailed as she watched the 'corpse' raise a hand and grab at the still-swearing wizard's ankle. He yelped in surprise and kicked the hand away, stabbing the 'corpse' repeatedly with his cane sword.

The thing began to crawl towards Flynn, pulling its thinly-connected lower-half after it. Flynn finally noticed the wide burn that had almost cut the man in two. His eyes narrowed, but he pushed the implications to the back of his mind as he focused on killing this thing…again. Providence came in the form of Delilah, who swung a rusty spade taken from the basement's wall and crushed the thing's skull. The rest of the body flailed around until Delilah smote it several more times with her spade, snapping bones and eventually severing both arms.

Looking up, he caught a flash of boiling silver in her gaze before she began ascending the stairs. Flynn would have been hard-pressed to keep up with her, but did his level best after grabbing a gray scrap of cloth from the wreckage of the chair.

The two of them arrived upstairs to find Kenta waiting for them, bloody sword in hand. Behind him, the two corpses they'd first noticed were completely dismembered, though still twitching.

"Jiang-shi," he explained shortly, "the walking dead." Flynn nodded. He had seen action in the First World War against the dead raised by Kemmler, and he knew just how to take them down.

Glancing at Delilah, he said, "Destroy the whole thing, or take off its limbs. They're faster and stronger than normal humans, and completely tireless. So long as there aren't too many of them, we'll be…" He paused in the act of opening the door. There, down the gravel driveway, was a wave of figures charging toward the house. Within the house, he heard the telltale sounds of breaking glass and fracturing boards. A more ominous sound intruded upon his sharpened senses: the sound of axes on wood.

"Out of the house! Now!" he bellowed, grabbing Kenta and hauling him out the front door, Delilah outside almost before the two of them had hit dirt. Rolling forward, he spotted an undead woodsman in flannel on each corner of the house, chopping through the supports with abandon.

Flynn stood and took stock of their situation. More than fifty individuals were charging at them from the front, some armed with farm tools, others with superhumanly-strong fists. Behind them, the house collapsed with a deafening noise. To either side, there was nothing but cornfields as far as the eye could see.

Abruptly, he knelt and began sketching in the dirt. "Kenta, Delilah: hold them off. Give me as long as you can." Without another word, he began gathering his magic. Delilah took up a position directly behind Flynn, prepared to defend him. She limbered up with her spade, silver eyes flashing and pale skin resembling carven stone in the Midwestern sun.

Kenta snorted from the ground to which he had been thrown. He stood, bones creaking, and stripped off his outer coat. It hit the ground with a sound much like the recently fallen house. With four swift motions, he threw one small knife into each axe-wielding walking corpses behind Flynn. One softly-spoken word later, all four toppled into six separate pieces, the knives now formed into impossibly-thin razors. These razors melted into puddles of silver liquid and flowed across the ground to climb Kenta's legs.

He began moving toward the cresting wave of undead, stepping out in front of the concentrating wizard before sprinting into the teeth of his foe. Delilah watched as limbs began flying into the air. 'God, it is a good day to have minions. And the best part: I am not the one who has to pay him!'

Kenta engaged many of their attackers, but a full ten broke off from the mob and charged Delilah and Flynn. Delilah growled before swinging her weapon in a wide arc, the weapon blurring through the air as it beheaded three of her foes. They responded by biting, punching, and stabbing at her with whatever was on hand. She dodged most of their attacks, matching their inhuman speed with her own, but more than once, pale red blood flew alongside sluggish black. All the while that thunderous booming continued, shaking the earth and mocking her efforts.

She managed to knock her foes back with a powerful stroke, but barely managed to catch her breath before they stood back up. Of the seven who had lived to combat her, two were still standing. Her dress was torn, her left arm was completely useless and hemorrhaging pale blood, and her makeup was completely ruined.

"Mr. O'Connell, now would be good!" she called, her voice bearing little of its usual honeyed warmth. Her remaining opponents suddenly charged her from the sides. She dodged, swinging blindly, the shaft of her weapon colliding with something hard. With a mighty snap, the ancient spade gave finally up the ghost: the top half flew away and lodged itself in the head of her second foe, while the remainder simply splintered and disintegrated in her grasp. Fortunately, the spade's final blow taken out both of her remaining enemies. Unfortunately, she was now unarmed.

Looking around, she saw that Kenta had mostly cleaned up the mob of undead. She watched as he hacked through his enemies, accepting many small hits to deliver cleaving strikes that removed limbs and heads. When the last of them had fallen, he began walking back toward them, each step stiff and obviously painful.

He stopped next to her, looking down at Flynn, who still had yet to move. "I believe the danger has past, Mr. O'Connell." He paused, grimacing, and pressed a hand to his side. "I have grown old…" he muttered to himself. Every beat of that booming rhythm sent a spark of pain through his side.

Delilah, meanwhile, was fighting another battle, this time against herself. Her Hunger had reared its ugly head, and her damaged body begged to be restored. Flynn started to look very tasty.

The sound of vegetation being trampled startled both of them out of their musings. Looking up, they spotted not less than a hundred more figures rushing toward them from either side of the house, stomping through corn at incredible speeds.

Delilah took a moment to examine their situation. She could barely fight at all, and Kenta wasn't looking much better. All of their hopes rested on a catatonic wizard.

Flynn, meanwhile, had been seeking the source of their opponents. He sent his magic into the earth, bending all of his power to the task. After several minutes of frantic searching, he felt it: a hole in reality, from which both the thundering rhythm and the mobs of undead emerged. He had found the source. Now, he had to close it.

Once more, he gathered up his power. The portal was nearly a mile away, and he had neither the time nor the materials for a ritual. Two centuries of experience told him that what he was about to attempt was impossible. His will to live made him try it anyway.

In the world outside of his mind, Kenta and Delilah were again startled as Flynn roared. He began to sweat heavily, and his body tensed up as if it were being struck by lightning.

A presence beyond the portal was fighting back…and it was stronger than he was. Stronger, and closer. Trying to force the tear closed at this distance was like trying to lift a battleship, and the presence on the other side was a firm anchor. And while the two struggled, more and more enemies came through the portal.

Suddenly, it came to him: why destroy the portal at all? Gathering what remained of his energy, he nudged the earth in front of the portal up. The next undead to emerge from the portal found itself running headlong into a thick stone slab.

Flynn chuckled to himself. 'I can almost feel the rage from here. Whoever that is can close and reopen the portal, but that will take time and energy.' Speaking of energy, Flynn was almost out. He emerged, gasping, into the real world to see Delilah bludgeoning a man back to death with a severed arm.

Kenta was all but exhausted. As he cut through the charging hordes, he catalogued his injuries.

'Broken left arm, cracked femur, cracked ri-" he grunted as one of the walking dead slammed an axe into his side. 'Snapped ribs' he mentally corrected himself. Still, he fought on silently, glancing behind whenever he had breathing space. Flynn was still unmolested, and Delilah fought on, despite her obvious blood loss.

There was a sudden lull in the combat as the horde suddenly stopped and began milling around aimlessly. Some of the jiang-shi began fighting one another, and others began charging off into the horizon. It took him a moment to realize that the thundering rhythm had stopped. He slowly walked backwards until he stood next to Flynn's still-unresponsive body. Sparing a glance back at Delilah, he saw her similarly confused. 'Why have they stopped attacking us? Could it be tied in with that drumming?'

His answer came when the booming noise began again, and the jiang-shi turned as one to face him. "One hundred and fifty," he remarked. Rolling his shoulders, he winced as his body let him know just how battered it had become.

"Gotta kill 'em all," came an unexpected voice from behind. Flynn stood up carefully, almost tipping over. He glanced around, surprised at the amount of gore and blood scattered within the yard. His eyes took in his blood-spattered companions. "And now, I suppose, it is my turn." He began chanting under his breath.

The honking of a car horn drew their attention behind the rubble of the house. A silver automobile screeched around the corner and plowed through a dozen bodies before pulling up alongside them. A bleeding Billy Steele shouted, "Get in the car!" just as Flynn finished his spell.

"Infernus!"

A dark figure swore violently as it watched from afar. Steele mowed through burning, but still upright, bodies. The American let out a triumphant whoop as the car made it to freedom.

"Enjoy your petty victory. It will not matter in the end." The figure turned and looked into the tear-streaked eyes of Elizabeth Nin. "Will it, fräulein?"

A/N

The word 'zombie' didn't make it to the US until around 1950. The Japanese and Chinese don't actually have zombies: the closest thing is the Jiang-shi, the 'hopping vampire.' And the Celts never had a word, aside from the Norse draugar, 'barrow wights'.

Anyway, here is Chapter 6, with Chapter 7 well under way. Ivory Tower is actually a rather short adventure, and we're only about three chapters from the grand finish. I'm working on my ability to write interesting fight-scenes, so RxR to let me know how I'm doing. The more you tell me, the better the final fights will be.

Oh, and you get a cookie if you caught the Pokémon reference the first time through.