CHAPTER 14 | Legions

📎A/N Hello my lovelies. How was your weekend? All ready for another week?

Thanks so very much on your feedback from the last chapter. It looks like some of you took Marcus's death quite hard.

Hopefully he will be the last. But can't guarantee anything... Muahahahahaha!

Take care and don't forget to vote.

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Amos's expression froze as he continued to stare at, and right through, his Second Councillor. A wax statue at Madam Tussauds, was more animated than he was capable of.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Eyes that moved in and out of focus fixed on a non-existent spot on the wall in the distance.

Amos reached into his happy place, and Wagner's Ride of the Valkyries swept him away in its beauty. His soul soared as Brünnhilde carried a terrified, half- unconscious Sieglinde past him and onto her ultimate sacrifice.

If he didn't, he would be short of another Second Councillor, and Randall would be missing a head.

The last notes died and faded leaving him befit at Brünnhilde's self-sacrifice. With reluctance, Amos returned to the matter at hand.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Now that his body and mind had calmed enough to deal with the situation in a manner befitting someone of his rank within the Order, Amos released his rigid control and allowed his limbs to move. A sharp pain rushed through his joints. He wasn't getting any younger, and his bones objected to the harsh treatment.

Amos reached for his upside down crucifix and prayed for guidance. My Lady Leviathan, grant me the strength to not kill every last fucking one of them.

Somehow, the latest generation of the Order was incapable of following the simplest of instructions. He'd happily gut the one in front of him alive if he could. However, he was quickly running out of Second Councillors and time was running out.

Amos took another deep breath and glared at Randall. At least he had the fortitude to look shamefaced at his actions.

"You do remember what we are working towards?" Amos asked.

Randall bobbed his head and continued to keep a steady eye on the ground. "Yes, your Grace."

"And, correct me if I'm wrong, keeping the authorities from sniffing around is one of your primary objectives."

Another bobble and Amos resisted the urge to decapitate the boy. We'll see how well you bob your head when it's rolling on the ground.

"Then please explain to me," Amos began, "how, out of the seven-hundred-thousand people who live in Essex County, you managed to kill the one outsider who has the connections to bring in the F.B.I, State Troopers and the National Guard?"

Randall flinched at the icy accusation.

"Was there no local you could have harassed and maimed instead?" Sarcasm dripped from every syllable as Amos reached for his crucifix to keep his rage under control.

An incoherent mumble was Randall's only reply.

"Well? What sorry excuse do you have for destroying hundreds of years of work?"

"I had no choice, your Grace; he recognised the Oroboros on my arm."

Amos rolled his eyes. "Of course, he knew what it is you dolt; he studies Anthropology and European myths. It would have been a waste of a hundred thousand dollars if he didn't."

"No, I think he knows about us."

"What makes you think that?" asked Amos. The imbecile at least has some grounds for his actions-flaky as they may be.

Randall shrugged. "I just had a feeling. He was acting a little strange after he saw it."

"So, instead of following him, you took it upon yourself to kill, and you just had to dump his body right there for all to see?"

Amos clenched his jaw when Randal's head bobbed once more.

"I'm sorry your Grace, I panicked. My only wish is to serve. But I'm sure he was on to me."

Sure? Where was positive, the knowing in all this? Where was the interrogation? The slow death?

Amos raised his hands in disgust. The youth of today was sloppy and had no sense of tradition. "When our saviour returns, she will decide what to do with you. Let's hope she's as understanding as I."

"What about the woman he's with?" asked Amos. In his anger, he had forgotten the university professor working with the sheriff's office. "Is she any threat? If you think that he was on to you, what makes you think she wouldn't be as well?"

Randall crossed is arms over his chest. "She's as clueless as the rest of them. Besides, it's the sister Marcus has been with over the last few days, not Keira. Deacon has them holed up at his estate, and no one can get close."

"I suggest you find out about this sister then."

Needing to get back to more important matters, Amos dismissed his Second Councillor and headed towards the dungeons. They were already on borrowed time as it was. This new wrinkle would require he bring forward the schedule.

Instead of leaving, Randall remained in step with him.

"Did you manage to get the information from the witch, your Grace?"

Amos shook his head. Bats had taken up squatters rights in the old woman's head years ago and evicted the three remaining brain cells soon after. By the time he was through with her, she couldn't remember her own name, let alone the names of the others.

"We can't wait any longer, we'll need to flush them out," he said.

Randal cocked his head. "We've tried that, and they went to ground."

A sly smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. "This time, we will have help."

Amos could trace his family back a thousand years. Records prior to that were sketchy at best, but he knew they went back at least a thousand more. In addition to the passing on of their faith and mission, each new generation inherited the knowledge of the one before, including a story that had not faded with time.

At first, the fables from his childhood had slipped his mind, but the markings on the chamber at Mystery Hill had triggered a memory. One that, if true, could hasten the Master's return.

After combing through the old parchments, he found his answers. It was an obscure passage and easily looked over, but reinforced his family's legacy. Amos smiled, as the heady rush of euphoria took a heavy weight off his shoulders. At last, victory was theirs. Leviathan herself would send them her Legions.

"I don't understand your Grace."

Amos's smile dropped, and he threw a withering glare at Randall. Of course, you don't, you're too busy not doing what you are told.

"The cracks in the door are too small for Leviathan or any other upper-level to get through. Their release can only occur if the door is fully open."

Randall's brows drew together. "This is not news."

"However, the cracks are big enough for a Legion to come through, or more precisely their spirit selves."

"So how come they haven't come through yet?"

"Because they need to be summoned, and I have only just found the secret incantation."

Randall fell quiet and pushed his hands into his pockets. "Why haven't I heard of this before? There's nothing in the Scripture to lead us to believe it's true."

"Did you not listen to the part about it being a secret incantation?" Amos replied as he picked up his pace. "It would not be much of a secret if everyone knew about it."

"So all we need to do, is say some words and the Legions will rise up? What are we waiting for?"

Amos raised his hand. "Not so fast. As usual, you do not pay attention. I said their spirits would be able to come through; I never mentioned anything about their bodies following. We need to be prepared; it's the first time something like this has been attempted."

"Why can't they travel with their bodies?

"Once upon a time they could. Summoning the Legions was unsuccessfully tried once before."

"What happened?"

Amos lifted his robe to ensure he didn't trip down the stairs and headed underground. "After the last great assault on the door, the cracks became significant enough to give us hope. The witch's reserves were depleted, and they used whatever energy was left to keep the door closed; luckily for us, it wasn't enough to seal the breaches.

My ancestor realised the cracks were there and tried to bring the Legions through. Somehow, the Crossroads witches got wind of his actions, but not before he finished the incantation."

"That means the Legions did arrive?"

Amos shook his head. "No, while the Legions had been summoned, they were yet to reach the fissures that would give them free passage. A witch by the name of Annabeth Subrinski performed the impossible. While she couldn't seal the cracks, she ensured that no physical form could ever pass through."

Randall stopped and fell behind. The boy was without the ability to think and walk at the same time. Amos was nearly to his chamber when Randall caught up.

"But a spirit can't survive without a form. What's the point if they've left their bodies behind?"

Amos turned to his Second Councillor and smiled. "Then, we will just need to supply them with new ones."

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📎A/N. I wondered what Amos was up to the last time we saw him... now we know.

I suspect that the body count is about to rise exponentially.

So far they've ignored Keira... but I'm a little concerned about Randall's mission with regards to Dayna... yikes!

... Something tells me there's a little more to that story about Annabeth than Amos revealed. What do you think?

Don't forget to vote.

Tale care and have a wonderful week.

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