However; they had been wrong about Caliban. He'd made a break from his indoctrination in Tumulus and they'd seen nothing but his heels since. And without Caliban the only thing grand would be the size of their failure. Big and stinking didn't even begin to touch it.
But while it would've been nice had the stubborn Cal cooperated, it had never been strictly necessary. It simply would've made things easier, especially in keeping track of him while he physically matured and his talent matured along with him. Yeah, it would have made things easier, but that didn't matter now that there wasn't a Cal, not anymore. Possession is nine-tenths of the law. You didn't need to be a lawyer to see that. Once again, thanks to me, the Auphe were in business. All they had to do was iron out the other minor details and they were home free. As the real estate vultures said, it was all about location, location, location.
The Auphe had Cal, they had me, but they also needed a massive influx of energy. This wasn't just any gate they wanted to open. A couple of double-A batteries wasn't going to cut it. They needed a major power source. Crossed ley lines might do it. An abandoned place of worship would be even better. They tended to store up a huge amount of energy over time if the faith was genuine. I was interested to see what the bosses had come up with.
The address I'd been given was in Sunset Park, Brooklyn. In a block that had seen better days, the large warehouse was a hulking, dilapidated brute squatting between two other deserted buildings. Brooding, sooty brick, gaping, shattered windows, and sullen atmosphere—I wasn't hearing church bells ring from this place. No, the sounds emanating from there would be more along the lines of bloodcurdling screams and sobbing pleas for help. That would be more welcome to my ears than any bell and it gave the condemned pit a whole lot of grace in my eyes. It wasn't an E ticket ride yet, but it would be. It would be the biggest, the best, and the very last ride the world took. That I was going to be in the driver's seat made it even more of rush.
Inside, the Auphe were milling about purposefully, clearing the enormous space of what looked to be a decade of debris. There were close to a hundred of them, their long hands pulling and pushing with an unnatural strength. A hundred, that must be just about every Auphe left in this world. Tumulus itself might stand empty as they gathered here. That's the breaks of having your own spot on the endangered-species list. "Hey, boss," I called to the nearest one. "What's up with the spring cleaning?" Transforming the very face of existence took some doing, but I didn't think absolute cleanliness was a prerequisite.
There was no mention of the visit paid to me earlier. The Auphe weren't used to disobedience. They were most likely assuming I was now walking the straight and narrow and saluting the almighty Auphe as I went. Dream on. I was a mercenary, not a whore.
In answer to my question, the Auphe's spidery finger pointed downward. It could've been China he was indicating, but I didn't think so. Jade, pagodas, and stir-fried noodles were nice, but not particularly helpful in our situation. Crouching, I laid a hand on the small area of floor that had been cleared. The concrete was cold to the touch, much colder than the air around us. Much colder than it should have been. It tried to leach the warmth from my flesh as it whispered black, poisonous things in my ear. Evil, horrible things that could turn a soul inside out and turn every shred of light into the darkest of despair. Nifty. "Ah," I hummed with approval. "Nothing warms my heart like a good slaughter."
That was another thing that would raise some serious power. Violent death, and lots of it. Many people had died in this spot and what was left of them was cradled deep in the earth beneath us. It had happened long ago by human standards, but it had poisoned this place so thoroughly that it was still tainted hundreds of years later. Here it had waited… waited for us, waited for just this moment. Kismet, huh? Brought a tear to the eye, it did.
It could have been Native Americans massacring the wannabes or it could've been vice versa. It may even have been before a white man ever touched this soil. Whatever it had been, it was human on human. It was peculiar how humans would kill at the drop of a hat—but they always had a justification… a reason. Defense, rebellion, justice, revenge, insanity—there were always excuses. The few that admitted the truth, that they did it just for the fun of it, those they locked up. Or they killed them, for the good of society… ironic, eh?