CHAPTER 20
I DOUBLE-TIMED IT THROUGH THE PASSAGEWAYS of the synagogue. Peter jogged next to me.
“What do you mean, there is no way to hide the circle’s magic? You said you keep the circle secret.”
He huffed. “The particulars of the circle are secret. Its power isn’t. One doesn’t hide the power of God. The light of knowledge must shine through.”
It shone alright. It shone real well. It shone so well that the Steel Mary had sensed the parchment and sent the cavalry to investigate.
A thud shook the walls of the old building. I dashed up the stairs, through the hallway, and to the front. Several people stood before the door on the stairs.
On the snow-buried lawn a six-foot-tall blood-red man grabbed a golem by the hind leg. He jerked the golem up, swung it, and smashed it on the ground, sending a spray of snow into the air. The golem slid, scrambled up, and galloped away, leaping over the broken body of its twin. All around the Temple crushed clay bodies littered the grounds. At least ten, maybe more. It looked like a war zone and only one side had suffered casualties.
A red aura flared from the man, ruby bright against the white snow. The sun was a pale glow behind the clouds. It was almost five and the night would pounce soon. I didn’t want to fight him in the dark.
“Is he alone?”
Nobody answered.
“Did he come alone?”
“Yes.” Rabbi Weiss swung into my field of vision. “What was on that parchment? What is he?”
You don’t want to know. “In ancient Babylon there was a god called Erra, also known as Nergal. He was the god of plagues and chaos.” And fear.
Except he wasn’t really a god. I would’ve preferred a god, but Erra was something much, much worse.
Another golem galloped from the back and hurled its spear at the man. The man batted it aside.
“Erra had seven warriors at his disposal.” I flipped Slayer, warming up my wrist. “Darkness, Torch, Beast, Tremor, Gale, Deluge, and Venom. Deluge is dead. The Beast Lord killed him three days ago.”
The golem charged the red man and reared, kicking with its hoofed legs.
I watched the charge. “This would be . . .”
The man stomped. Thunder rolled through the yard, like the sound of a colossal sledgehammer. The ground yawned. He grabbed the golem and thrust it into the forming hole. It sank up to its waist, still kicking. The man swung his huge fist and hammered a punch to the golem’s sternum. The clay chest shattered like an egg shell. The golem’s head fell to the ground.
“Tremor.” Power of earth. Lovely. By all rights, he shouldn’t have been able to make sinkholes, given that the ground was frozen solid, but apparently someone forgot to mention it to him.
Tremor surveyed the grounds, looking for the next target.
“He’ll never break the ward,” someone said to my right.
Oh yes, he will. Trust me on this. “I wouldn’t count on it. Your wards are very strong but your magic is too young for him.”
A gray-haired woman gave me a pitying look, usually reserved for imbeciles. “Our wards are written in a language that was twelve hundred years old before the Common Era began. Even Unicorn Lane can’t breach them.”
I pointed at Tremor. “Twelve hundred years before the Common Era, Erra was thirty centuries young. He predates your language.”
A bout of hysterical barking came from the left. Idiot dog, making himself a target.
“Open the ward.” I started down the stairs.
“That isn’t wise,” Peter called out. “The spell will hold.”
“Out of the question. It’s too dangerous.” The older woman crossed her arms. “We won’t be held responsible for your death or damage to the Temple.”
Tremor took a step toward my poodle.
“Open the damn ward, or I will break it!”
Tremor turned away from the dog, swiped the golem’s head off the snow, and hurled it at the Temple. It flew through the air, cleared the ward in a flash of silver, and shattered against the Temple’s door. Of course—the golems belonged to the Temple and the ward was keyed to them, so they could pass through it. He’d pelt the Temple with golem remains, and when he’d run out of bodies to throw, he’d stomp over here himself.
The rabbis stared at the shards of the broken head. Tremor reached for another body.
The gray-haired woman looked up. “Peter, open the ward!”
White light streamed down. I stepped through, and the ward surged shut behind me. I started toward Tremor, pulling on the clasp of the cloak.
Tremor turned to face me. He wore the face of Solomon Red. Surprise, surprise.
The cloak slid off my shoulders and fell on the snow. I kept walking. Nice and slow.
Solomon regarded me with a condescending grin. He never smiled. Like a drunk straining every muscle to appear sober, Solomon did his best to hide the fact that he couldn’t read behind a mask of grave importance. But now he smirked at me with obvious contempt. An agile intelligence lit his eyes. Erra’s intelligence.
Solomon opened his mouth. A familiar female voice spilled forth. “You again. This is the best the priests can do? Or are they trying to entertain me?”
I swung my sword, warming up my wrist. “Why are you a woman?”
“Why can’t I be a woman?”
Because it fucks up my family tree. “Because Erra’s poem says you’re a man.”
Solomon shrugged. “You shouldn’t put your trust into the ramblings of senile temple rats.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Any other pearls of wisdom?”
“None that would help you live through the next minute.” Solomon spread his arms and pulled them together as if pushing a great weight before him.
The ground shook beneath my feet.
I leapt up and to the left. A sinkhole gaped where I’d stood. I landed and jumped again, barely avoiding another pit. All around me holes opened, like greedy black mouths in the snow, and I hopped between them like a chicken on hot tin. I dashed right, then left. Unless I learned to fly, I’d never get to him.
Solomon laughed in Erra’s voice.
Usually I saved my magic as a last resort, but this was the old power and now wasn’t a good time to screw around. I had to hit him now and hit him hard.
I took a deep breath and barked a power word. “Ossanda.” Kneel.
The world reeled in a haze of pain. Like grabbing a handful of my own flesh and ripping it out. I reeled, but didn’t go down.
Solomon’s mouth gaped open. A dull roar like the sound of a rockslide spilled from his lips. His knees hit the dirt. Who’s laughing now?
The holes in the ground closed. I ran.
The power word had drained too much of my magic, and every step turned into a battle of will. Like dragging lead chains. I kept running.
Snow flew under my feet. Solomon shuddered. Thick cords of muscle bulged on his thighs.
Ten feet.
Six.
Three.
I struck in a classic overhead blow designed to cleave through his neck. As I swung, dirt thrust between us. The saber’s blade sliced through soil and came away clean. Missed. Shit.
A thick mound jutted where Solomon had knelt. Trying to thrust through it would break the blade and accomplish nothing.
“First, you kneel, then you hide. So far I’m not impressed.”