Page 64 of Sinistram
Half a dozen Sinistram priests rushed toward the dome, weapons drawn, chanting spells of their own. Brent fired methodically, downing two of them. Rowan’s magic set two priests on fire, while whatever the two necromancers did made the last two priests drop in their tracks as if their hearts suddenly stopped.
Another wave of priests followed them, undeterred by their colleagues’ deadly failure. The elders kept their distance, using the rank-and-file Sinistram priests as cannon fodder. He was surprised that many were able to get past CHARON and the others.
“We’re running out of time,” Brent shouted over his shoulder at Travis. “It’s now or never!”
Brent thought he had brought enough ammo for a war, but he had underestimated the opposition. He couldn’t keep this up much longer, and his aim wavered from fatigue and adrenaline. Rowan and the other witches forced the Sinistram to retreat, but every time the priests gained a little more ground than they lost.Brent didn’t know how much power necromancy took compared to regular magic, but even Donnely and Peters looked near exhaustion. In the distance, he could see the remaining priests battling CHARON, keeping the Sinistram from interfering.
“Sunder the magic from the undead. Walking corpses have no claim to energy and power. As of old, so shall it be now. Revoke!”
Travis repeated the command in Latin, but even before he could finish, Brent felt the buzz of powerful magic fill the dome and lash out beyond toward the vampiric elders. Streaks of blue fire struck each of them in the chest.
Lombardi and Fanucci burst into flame, screaming as their bodies were consumed. Two more caught fire seconds later, while the last three staggered, then fell to the ground, convulsed, and lay still.
Donnelly and Peters ran forward, already speaking binding spells on the weakened vampires. Now that the elders had been stripped of their sustaining magic, they could no longer maintain their spells against the necromancers’ power.
Travis lowered the grimoire and staggered. Brent rushed to steady him as Travis tried to stand.
“Eat. Drink. You did it.” Brent pressed a bottle of water and a protein bar into Travis’s hands.
“Is it over?” Travis’s voice sounded scratchy and sore, and utter exhaustion showed in his face.
“Looks like it. De-magicking torched four of them, and the other three are down. Donnelly and Peters have them handled.” Brent watched closely to make sure Travis replenished himself. He looked close to collapse, but he stubbornly stayed on his feet.
“The oldest ones burned,” Travis croaked. “I guess their immortality and their vampirism got too tangled up to separate. As for the others, no idea whether they’ll recover.”
With the elders captured or destroyed, the few remaining Sinistram fighters either surrendered or made a break for it. Those who ran were quickly captured by the Logonje and Occulatum, helped by ghosts who revealed their hiding places. Brent guessed that CHARON had moved to secure the perimeter and head off law enforcement.
Rowan and Aricella let the warded dome fall.
“Great job, Travis,” Rowan said.
“You did it!” Aricella cheered.
“I’ll rally the covens and make sure that the wells that haven’t exploded yet, won’t,” Rowan said.
“And I’ll help settle the spirits,” Aricella added. She gave Brent a pointed look. “Take care of Travis.”
“I wonder how much of a mess there is,” Brent mused, unable to see far in the dark. He had no idea how many of the capped wells had exploded, but he could imagine the damage caused to what had been a stretch of green lawn.
“Less than the end of the world,” Travis remarked. He sat down on a log, and Brent tried not to hover but stayed close by. Travis finished the water and food, handing back the empty bottle and wrapper.
“That helped, thank you. But I could sleep for a week, drink a couple gallons of water, and eat a dozen double-cheeseburgers, not necessarily in that order.” Travis managed a tired smile. Brent thought he already looked a bit improved, but didn’t doubt that time, sleep, and food would speed the recovery.
Just after dawn,the hum of rotors overhead made Brent look up. “What the fuck?”
A Chinook helicopter hovered overhead. “Clear for landing,” an Italian-accented voice said from a loudspeaker.
Brent, Travis, and the remaining fighters on the field drew back, but kept both arcane and regular weapons in hand.
The helicopter landed, and the hatch opened. A dozen men in European-cut business suits disembarked, and their leader approached Brent and Travis, brandishing a badge and carrying a stainless-steel briefcase.
“Who the hell are you?” Brent demanded as he examined the credentials. He also noticed the man’s holstered Sig Saur P220.
“Supernatural Swiss Guard,” the man replied in Italian-accented English, unperturbed by Brent’s tone. “I am Lieutenant Colonel Vincente Rosso. We’re here to take the troublemakers to the Vatican, where they will be judged and suitably punished.”
Brent had heard of the Swiss Guard, the protectors of the Pope, but usually saw pictures of them in traditional regalia and hadn’t considered that they had a supernatural branch, or that they could dress like a modern security detail.
“We could have used you last night, when we were fighting for our lives,” Travis snapped.
