Kyle lay there in astral space, his back wracked with pain from the slashing by the cockroach spirit's legs. The pain was severe, but the injuries didn't feel life-threatening. His body, back in the Truman condoplex, had manifested the physical effects of the spirit's astral attack, but Kyle had the pain all to himself. The spirit itself was gone, destroyed. He turned his head to look at the two Knight Errant troopers.
The ork had applied a trauma patch to the mage's shoulder in an attempt to stop the heavy bleeding. Kyle could see the man's aura flickering; he was unconscious and unable to help heal his own body. Kyle didn't know if he himself had enough energy merely to try and stabilize him. If he'd been physically present and this injured, he wouldn't give it a second thought. Being present only in astral space was another matter, for he risked injury to himself if he tried to heal another.
But Kyle didn't have to heal the man, only stop him from dying. He willed himself to float toward the injured mage to examine him more closely.
There. A power focus in the form of a bracelet on the magician's left hand. Without that link from the astral world to the physical one-the circuit of power from astral space, through the focus, into the mage-Kyle wouldn't have been able to help him. But the active focus made all the difference.
Kyle reached out and placed one hand on the man's heart, the other on his left hand at the focus. He would have to slow the man's metabolism, slow his respiration and heart beat, slow his body down to where critical seconds became critical minutes. Kyle picked a rhythm in astral space, the slow beat of ambient energy, and slowed his to match it.
The ork realized something was happening, and stepped back, pulling his sidearm clear as a dull halo of green energy began to surround the injured man. The ork's eyes searched the area, but he could see no target, nothing against which to protect his friend. Then, as the energy flowed around the mage, the ork's radio crackled to life.
Kyle couldn't make out the words that came over it; they were an electronic signal, cold, lifeless, and meaningless to his perceptions in astral space. But the ork's reply was clear.
"Roger, roger!" he shouted into his throat mike. "Officer down, ground floor near the loading dock. I need a trauma alert and another mage. Something's happening down here!"
Kyle felt the injured man respond, his body sliding into synchrony with the rhythm Kyle was providing it. The blood flow slowed, nearly stopping. If Knight Errant could get a medic or another magician with healing spells here in time, he would survive.
"Roger that!" said me ork trooper. "One bug down here. Repeat one bug down!" The radio crackled in reply, and the ork returned his attention to his companion. Kyle backed away. There was little chance the ork would notice him. The emotions and lingering energy from the fight with the spirit were dampening any of Kyle's own aura that might have leaked into the physical world, but he still didn't relish the sensation of being pushed aside by the trooper's Significantly greater mass.
He looked around. There were no physical signs of the magical battle that had just taken place, only the physical effects of the weapons fire and sprayed blood. He heard footsteps running toward him from where the cockroach spirit had been standing. Kyle shot in that direction, wincing at the pain that coursed through him. He quickly passed a field medic and another trooper. Far beyond them, way down the hall, he could see another trooper covering their movement.
Kyle willed himself in that direction, and found the trooper also guarding an injured hospital guard who sat in a small pool of blood. Continuing on, he passed through a pair of swinging doors, and into the what seemed to be the hospital's shipping and receiving area.
There had been a fight here, a pitched battle, from the look of it. Kyle saw six bodies, two were Knight Errant and two seemed to be hospital employees probably caught in the crossfire. The last two looked human at first glance, but even though they were dead and their auras long vanished, Kyle could sense something wrong about them.
"Secure the site!" a familiar voice yelled, "Cover the bodies!"
Kyle turned and saw Lieutenant Facile in full combat gear, one arm bandaged and bloody, leaning against a pile of boxes. A doctor or nurse-Kyle couldn't tell which-tended him. Despite his injury, Facile's aura seemed strong. Kyle quickly floated over to him and slowly made himself visible.
Across me room, a half-dozen weapons instantly turned on him. None fired as he held his hands in a submissive raised position.
"Facile," Kyle said, as the lieutenant stepped in front of the woman assisting him and used his good arm to draw his heavy pistol. "It's Kyle Teller."
"Son of a bitch!" Facile said. "What the frag are you doing-"
"I killed one of the roach spirits down the hall from here." Kyle pointed back in the direction he'd come. "One of your mages got torn up pretty bad, but I was able to stabilize him." He paused to let those words sink in. "Mind telling me what's going on?"
Facile had turned to look in the direction Kyle had pointed, then relaxed and reholstered the weapon. It was another few moments before the frightened nurse resumed work on his arm. "Fraggin' bugs attacked the hospital in force," he told Kyle, gesturing at me two strange bodies now being covered. "At least four true forms and a half-dozen or so of these clean flesh forms."
"Flesh forms? True forms?" Kyle asked him. "What's the difference?"
Facile gestured again at the pair of now covered bodies. "We call these pieces of trash flesh forms. They're possessed by bug spirits, but they look human. Most that get possessed aren't this lucky. True forms just look like fraggin' big versions of the real bug."
"Where's the boy?" Kyle asked.
Facile pointed toward where Kyle took me loading dock door to be. The physical details of me concrete and metal room were nearly indistinguishable to him. “Took him away in a car waiting out there.”
Kyle was about to head in that direction, but Facile stopped him. "Don't bother! I don't even have a make on the car." He pointed at the dead troopers. "They're the only ones who saw it."
“No idea which way it went?”
"None."
"Security tapes?" Kyle looked around the room to see whether it contained any dull machinery that might be a camera.
Facile shook his head as the woman administering to him stepped away. “They hit the security room first after eating our sentry spirits. Trashed all the digital storage. Backups were in the same room.”
Kyle nodded. "I'm at the Truman condoplex. Let me know right away if anything else turns up."
Facile almost seemed to laugh. "I'm sure Captain Ravenheart will call you once she's done chewing us up here."
Kyle shifted out of his physical manifestation and accelerated at maximum speed across the short space of city.
Back at the Truman house the patio area around his body was quite a mess. Apparently the roach spirit had hit Kyle hard, not only on the back but on his left leg as well. His body had apparently thrashed, sending blood pouring from the sudden wounds. Hanna was seated across the patio being assisted by one of the other staff members. Kyle also noticed that Dan Truman was standing watch over his physical body, along with Seeks-the-Moon and two of Truman's personal- not Knight Errant-guards. Someone had already administered emergency first aid to his body. In spirit form, he'd barely felt it.
Kyle called out mentally, "Moon!"
"Yes!" came the clear reply as the spirit looked up at him. "Are you well?'
"Well enough. How bad do I look?"
"You've been worse," Moon said. "You've made quite a mess of the patio, though, and I'm afraid your friend Ms. Uljaken was a little unprepared for your spontaneous wounding."
Kyle laughed, and then commanded Charlotte, who immediately appeared in astral space.
"The two are dead?" she asked him. Kyle nodded, recognizing the empty spaces within himself for both spirits, the second apparently destroyed when it moved to help him against the roach spirit.
"We're fighting what seem to be some kind of insect spirits." With those words, Kyle saw Seeks-the-Moon's face blanch and his powerful aura waver, for just a fraction of an instant. Even the air elemental, normally supremely detached, seemed to shudder. Kyle was surprised; he'd never heard of such spirits before either.
"I understand," said Charlotte. "I will try to serve you well."
Again, Kyle was surprised by the tone of near finality in the spirit's words. "Good," he said, "Stay alert."
"They will not pass me," Charlotte assured him, then vanished.
Kyle willed himself back into his body, re-forming flesh and spirit into one, but instantly regretted the decision. The pain was terrible, and he felt his body spasm as he reacted to it.
Dan Truman started to speak, probably wanting to know what had happened at the hospital, but Kyle held up his hand. Seeks-the-Moon also reached out and placed a hand on Truman's arm to still him. His body wanted to sleep, but Kyle knew he couldn't.
He sat up slowly and felt Seeks-the-Moon's strong hands under him, helping him into a chair. "Thank you," Kyle said.
"What's happening?" Truman asked, unable to restrain himself any longer. "Your spirit here wouldn't tell me a thing."
"I'm afraid your son's been kidnapped."
"Oh my god…" said Truman.
Looking pale and shaky, Hanna had also joined them. "Why?" she said. "Why would they take him now?"
"All I know is that they did. Knight Errant couldn't stop them. It's a real mess over there."
"How did it happen?" she asked.
"Remember Ares was looking for information on 'aberrant spirits'?"
Hanna nodded.
"Well, they found some," Kyle told her.
"What do you mean?"
“I fought one. A powerful thing. I'm lucky there was only one. Fraggin' thing looked like a huge insect. You won't believe this-like a giant cockroach."
Seeks-the-Moon paled, and his existence seemed to flicker in the physical world for the briefest instant. Both Truman and Hanna also drew back in silent revulsion.
“That's all I know," Kyle said. "It was bigger than I am, and looked just like an enormous roach. The Knight Errant troopers seemed to know what they were and referred to them as 'bugs'."
Truman's eyes were fire-bright. "I don't really know what you're talking about, Mr. Teller, but it scares me cold. I'm going to call Damien Knight about this. Let's see just how good a pair of friends he and I really are."
Kyle held up his hand. "If I could suggest something…"
Truman stopped and turned back. "Yes?"
"Knight Errant now knows that I know at least something about these 'bugs'," Kyle said, "and that I've probably told you. Let's see what they do. Let's see what they decide to tell us."
Truman nodded. "All right. I see your logic. Their hand's shown. Let's see if they still insist on bluffing. Fair enough." His gaze turned back toward the interior of the plex. Beyond the dark plastiglass of the patio door Kyle could see a couple of vague shapes waiting impatiently.
"In the meantime, I'd better go tell my wife."
Kyle nodded and leaned back, closing his eyes, thinking Truman had walked away. He opened them quickly when he heard Daniel Truman's cold voice again. "Don't get me wrong, Mr. Teller-I want my son back, and I want him whole. And I don't give a damn if I piss on anybody doing it."
"I understand," Kyle said, and Truman walked over to the patio doors. Someone on the other side, one of Truman's own guards, opened them. Kyle could see Mrs. Truman and at least one of her daughters waiting on the other side.
Kyle turned to Hanna Uljaken. "Are there guest rooms here?"
She nodded, looking slightly disheveled. He wondered for a moment if she'd actually fainted when he'd begun spurting blood. "I want to move closer to the family."
"Of course," she said. "I can have a room ready immediately and a car sent over to the hotel for your things."
"Thanks," he said, "but I'd better go for them myself. There are a few items there I'd rather not have anyone else touching."
"Fine. A car and an escort will be waiting downstairs in five minutes."
"No, don't bother. There's something I've got to do first, and fast."
"The ritual circle is complete, as you requested," Seeks-the-Moon told him. "I'm afraid I have inconvenienced them somewhat."
"Oh?"
Hanna laughed. "You could say that."
Kyle sighed. "Let me see it." Then he followed Hanna and Moon into a section of the condoplex where Kyle hadn't been before.
"Seeks-the-Moon took over the dining room," Hanna explained. "It was the only room big enough for what he said he wanted to do." She threw open the dark wood double doors.
The room inside was long, with a wide view east to the lake. It was, however, barely wide enough to accommodate the intricate, multilayered circle now drawn in the center of the room. Kyle looked down at its three concentric rings and the dozens of signs and symbols that filled it, some astrological, some alchemical, but all of them occult. Thirteen unlit candles circled the outer ring, seven the middle, and three the smallest, inner ring. All of it had been drawn on the hardwood floor in paints of silver and gold.
Seeks-the-Moon looked proud.
"Very impressive," Kyle said, removing his coat and shoulder holster and setting them on the dining room table, which had been shoved to one end of the room and covered with sheets. "And how unlike you. I wasn't expecting this symbol-set."
"Thank you," said Seeks-the-Moon. "I knew it had to be both formidable and comfortable for you."
Kyle nodded. "Let's get started."
"You don't want to rest?" Seeks-the-Moon asked.
"Good point," Kyle said, the pains in his body flaring up as a reminder. He stilled himself and focused his magical energies inward. His injuries weren't serious, but if not dealt with, they might hinder him in the ritual he was about to attempt. He could sense the damage, feel the very physical tearing and ripping of his body that mimicked the damage his spirit had taken in astral space. But it was that very spirit that would allow him to heal himself. Deep within, at the very center of his being, was his True Self, the core of his existence. It was the essence of Kyle Teller's body and soul, a template of who he was and how he should be. By channeling his magical power through his Self, he could rebuild his body, heal his wounds, and restore himself to health. He did, taking minutes to coax the flesh into wholeness. It was a process that would not be rushed.
When he was done, and his weight back on his left leg without pain, he opened his eyes. Seeks-the-Moon was walking the edge of the ritual circle one last time, eyeing his handiwork. Hanna Uljaken was staring at Kyle, an odd, fascinated look on her face as the last visible traces of the magical energy he'd used drifted away from his body in wisps.
Kyle smiled at her, and she managed a tiny smile in return.
"Much better," he said.
Seeks-the-Moon looked up. "You're ready then?"
Kyle nodded.
"Will you need the shirt?" Hanna asked quietly. "I can have a car sent…"
Kyle shook his head. "No need." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small red and white sample container. "This time we can do it right."
He turned to Seeks-the-Moon. "Odds are something's going to come after me if I can't do this fast enough. I'm going to call Winston in for extra protection."
"If you must," Seeks-the-Moon said, shrugging.
"Winston?" asked Hanna.
Kyle held up his hand and shifted the frequencies of part of his spirit until they matched those of the elemental metaplane of fire. "Winston?" he called into astral space. In front of him, over the center of the circles, a spark leapt into life, and then quickly grew into a ball of flame half Kyle's own size.
"Good afternoon," the newly called fire elemental said. "You look well."
"Thank you," Kyle said. "You will remain here under Seeks-the-Moon's command, Winston, and work with Charlotte to guard this place and the people dwelling in it."
The spirit nodded, but seemed amused. "That one is not the smartest of your servants," it said.
"With great power comes great sarcasm," said Kyle. "Do as I say."
The spirit seemed to nod again. "Of course," it said, and vanished.
"Do you think it was referring to you or Charlotte?" Kyle asked Seeks-the-Moon, but his ally spirit didn't answer. He stood looking at the ritual circle, lost in thought. "Seeks-the-Moon, are you all right?"
"Yes, yes," Moon said, "I'm fine. I was only thinking." Kyle walked slowly into me center of me circle, careful not to disturb any of the markings. At its heart, he could clearly see its power. Seeks-me-Moon had inscribed a powerful circle, perhaps even better than Kyle could have done. It was a disturbing thought, considering Seeks-the-Moon's origins.
Kyle turned completely in place, waving his hand across the plane of the circle, the candles springing to life as he gestured at them. Even with the windows wide open, the powerful aura of the circle was evident. It was warm and solid and fit him perfectly.
He removed the ampoule of blood from its protective case, opened it, and poured half into his outstretched hand. Immediately, he felt the vibrations of Mitchell Truman's life echoing through it. Kyle closed his eyes, centered himself, and when he opened them again, eight metallic wheels circled him, spinning at different rates and angles to one another. Each glowed with power and rang with a musical tone that echoed its nature.
The power was Kyle's, and he changed the rotation of the copper wheel until it matched the vibrations of Mitchell Truman's blood pooled in his hand. The blood vibrated in response. Kyle willed the silver circle into position parallel to the copper one and slowed it until both spun at the same speed. Just as they did, the copper circle pulsed and began to rotate through its axis around him. Kyle closed his hand around the blood, and the copper wheel ran with red, crimson dancing along its edges. The wheel flashed again, and a translucent image of it expanded outward in all directions, drawn to Mitchell Truman's physical existence.
Kyle felt the forces of the wheel traveling outward, expanding from him in an ever-growing sphere. If left to continue, bound by no other constraints, it would grow infinitely, weakening as it did, but never quite ceasing to exist.
Some part of Kyle was with the leading edge of the magic as it rushed across the city, searching for the exact harmony that would match it. The blood in his hand was hot, burning with the power he focused. The wheels circled him, singing with energy, building upon the simple energies within.
The blood flamed, coursing through his fingertips, but not burning him. The copper wheel resounded, and its tone increased in pitch. It had found its source. It had found Mitchell Truman.
Kyle worked quickly. The argent circle shifted perpendicular to him, and an image of it closed around him until it reached his outstretched hand, blood-red flame leaping from between his fingers. The magical energies met there, and a flash of argent leaped in two directions. One into Kyle, merging with his aura so that he might see what lay at the other end of the ritual sending. And the other, the Sending itself, lanced outward beyond the circle, reaching for the conjunction of the mystical forces on Mitch Truman. It was only a matter of time.
But Kyle could feel a ripple in the Sending as it surged outward. Alerted perhaps by the ritual's connection to the Truman boy, something was following his magic back through astral space. He could not sense what it was, only its approach, fast and strong.
He pushed his casting, willing it forward, toward Mitchell. A flash of mystical energy coursed around the edges of the ritual circle. Whatever was coming, it was projecting before it, testing, probing.
The wheels sang, their tones changing to harmony. Kyle's Sending engulfed its target, spreading across and around Mitchell Truman. He felt resistance there as whatever magical forces shielding the boy strove to disrupt his magics. But blood was to blood. Kyle's spell locked on to the boy's body, and then washed outward, writing its location into Kyle's mind. He could not see Mitchell Truman, nor anything of where he was, but the magic told him where he was. Kyle felt the location within him and knew he could find it again.
The ritual circle flashed once more, and Kyle felt the presence coming against him grow. It was almost upon him when he collapsed the ritual, the blood in his hand burning away, reduced to ash and smoke. The wheels faded, the connection, the path to Mitchell Truman's body dissolving.
In his mind and far off in the distance, Kyle then heard a wail. A terrible, alien cry of anger. Frustrated at the dispersing of the bridge it had been following, leaving it nothing to travel. The howl died away, fading with the magic.
Kyle stood, his left hand smoking, the final traces of the ritual folding in on itself. The candles around the ritual circle faded, and Kyle nodded to himself, satisfied.
"I found him," he said.