After half an hour of fruitless searching in the dank underground, I took a single Bible from the table while we gathered outside. Zane separated from us to stare out into the forest, lost in his own thoughts. Duke had finished puking and was chain-smoking mixed tobacco and marijuana joints to settle his nerves and stomach, Binah on his lap. The regular scent of tobacco was very green to me; these cigarettes smelled dark green and bright blue, a weird combination of abrasive and sweet-sharp color-tastes.
“You know, I always had my doubts about the Four Fires.” Standing off to the side, Jenner held none of her usual energy. Her shoulders were hunched, her voice quiet and firm with the kind of steadiness that only someone who had faced atrocity could muster. “They were always so up themselves, you know? They’d go on about a ‘shapeshifting community’. John came up with all this inclusive language bullshit. Sat on the panels and lobbied for inclusion in the Vigiles and everything. Now he’s fucking dead, and I don’t know what to think about him, about the Pathfinders… I don’t where anyone’s gone.”
“Guess we know what his Ka is, anyway.” Duke said.
“He didn’t even have time to shift,” Zane said. “I can’t even… I can’t believe it. Maybe that Spook is still around here. I mean, what kind of power does it take to catch someone in the middle of the change? And where the hell is Michael?”
Duke’s dark eyes slid to the side, glancing at Jenner. “Sorry to say it, boss, but… I dunno. Maybe Mason took him somewhere. Maybe Michael took Mason somewhere. There’s no way to know.”
I sighed, and moved to keep myself upwind from the pot smoke. “I know the symbol that was left in the bedroom. Maybe it’s older than Mason’s being here, maybe it’s not. In either case, the symbol belongs to a cult or underground dark magic fraternity. They have the capacity to summon and deploy primordial, deeply evil entities. I only know them by acronym: the TVS.”
“Tsch. Call them DOGs, already. We know what Morphorde is.” Jenner reached out for the joint. “What does TVS stand for?”
“I have no idea,” I said. “Before I left the Organizatsiya, I dealt with one of their members: A female serial killer working on behalf of someone she only signed with ‘L’. She had that eye-and-cross symbol over her altar. Jana was a mage, like me. When her soul awakened, she went mad. There was something wrong with it at the metaphysical level. Contact with her soul changed her, and she went insane. Could something like this happen to Weeders?”
“If it can, I’ve never heard of it. I’ve been incarnating, round and round, for close to five hundred years that I can remember.” Jenner took a deep drag on the joint. It had gone out. “Fought in France, fought in Russia – got killed there, that was nasty. Now Vietnam, on both sides. I knew some Weeders who got really sick or died when they were fighting the Deep Black, DOGs and shit. Most of them were the smaller guys… the rodent shifters, rabbits, weasels and possums.”
I frowned. “Isn’t that the general group of people that the Pathrunners recruit from?”
“Little critters awaken faster,” Duke grunted. “They get killed more often, so they live more lives than us. They’re super-social, you know… So they became lawkeepers.”
Lily and Dru. Moris Falkovich. Ivanko, and Vanya, by extension. Now, Michael and Mason? John’s murder hadn’t been signed by ‘Soldier 557’, like the others had. They were connected, somehow. I crouched down and stroked Binah while I thought, trying to fit the pieces together.
“Was Michael a member of any organizations beyond the Pathrunners? The senior pastor at the Church of the Voice mentioned that he was working with the church for the childrens’ program.”
Duke was watching us with an expression of puzzled ignorance. When Jenner looked to him, he shrugged. “Fucked if I know, boss.”
“Same here.” Jenner nodded. “What? You think they’re hiding something?”
“I know that Lily and Dru have to have been hiding a lot of things,” I said. “But I remember you saying that Pathrunner Elders have to go through a lot of tests and trials to attain their status. Is it the same as the initiation ritual John told me about?”
As one, all three Tigers looked towards the bunker.
“No,” Jenner replied. “It’s different for every gang. I don’t know what their rites are, but I know the Pathrunners have some hardcore vetting.”
I sighed. “Then something must have happened to change them between the time they were vetted, and the time they were murdered. Otherwise, I’m honestly at a loss.”
“Fuck this. I sent Mason out here with these idiots.” The woman growled, and began to angrily strip her leathers. She threw them to the soft forest floor, and before I could so much as avert my eyes, she pulled her t-shirt off as well. She was so small-breasted that she didn’t need a bra. “We’re going to look for him. Zane! Get your kit off. It’s a full moon, and I need your eyes.”
Zane’s shoulders tensed, and his hands fisted. “Prez, I still don’t—”
“Stop being such a fucking prude and get your fucking clothes off.” She pulled her belt out. Duke was also beginning to undress. I began to feel more than slightly awkward.
“I assume that one of you will be taking Mason’s motorcycle back to the city,” I said, glancing at Zane, who was still noticeably reluctant as he began to shuck his leather to the ground. “I’ll drive the car and meet you there.”
“You should do your mojo here while you’re gone,” Jenner said. She dropped her jeans, and I turned reflexively, clearing my throat. “Scan the place, or whatever it is you do.”
“It would be better for me to return,” I said. Quite suddenly, I felt the way that Zane had looked. “I need to finish decoding some gematria for Ayashe. That might give us some leads into who is responsible… we won’t find answers without a culprit, or culprits. If this TVS organization is involved—”
“Okay, whatever.” Jenner spoke from behind me. “I don’t need details, Rex. Just results. Ready, guys?”
“I was born ready,” Duke said. “And furry.”
Zane did not reply, except to throw me the keys. Summarily dismissed, I collected my familiar and began to mount the hill back up to the parking lot as wet tearing sounds ricocheted from below. I turned at the crest and looked back, hoping to see them, but only saw piles of discarded clothes and the flick of a huge shadow disappearing from the pool of moonlight in the clearing.
Secrets on secrets. I had effectively lied to them, again, but I was so good at it and becoming so accustomed to it that the sting of indignation barely registered. Part of that was because lying – or hiding the truth, at least – was becoming habitual. Part of it was because I knew, without a doubt, that someone had to be lying to me, too.
When I reached the Buick, I turned on the cabin light and looked through the Bible I’d taken. Revelations was heavily marked. Individual numbers and letters were circled with pencil throughout the text – Bible code notations. Grimacing, I started with the first New Testament ‘M’ chapter, Matthew. In the second chapter, I found a heading: ‘The Slaughter of the Infants.”
“Then when Herod saw that he had been tricked by the magi, he became very enraged, and sent and slew all the male children who were in Bethlehem and all its vicinity, from two years old and under, according to the time which he had determined from the magi.” I recited the words gutturally. My voice was a deep whiskey-hoarse croak. “Matthew 2:16.”