Damnation Code (William Massa) - William Massa Page 0,41

now hovered on the giant screen before him. A beacon showing him a new way. A path toward redemption. Toward the darkness.

Talon never felt Zagan’s men cut his zip-ties, never experienced his body rising and straightening as he slipped his jacket over his bloody chest.

Never saw Zagan lean into him.

All he remembered were the words his new master whispered into his ear. “Kill your general.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

IMAGES OF THE Apple Store massacre flickered over Simon Casca’s 90-inch plasma-TV screen. His stomach churned as he sat in his office and absorbed the horrific story. Casualty numbers kept being adjusted, but at least eleven people were dead and an equal number were in critical condition. Video of the attack dominated all the major news networks. This was a global case now and speculation ran rampant as to the identity and agenda of the killers. Terrorism was on everyone’s lips, but Casca knew better. Zagan’s cult had struck again.

Footage of a masked rescuer suggested that Mark Talon had crashed Omicron’s party. God, how Casca wished the Delta operator would return his calls. The bloodbath at the Apple Store confirmed his worst fears. The actions of this killer cult were escalating.

Casca turned off the news and shifted his attention back to his desk. The cultists’ laptop was running the program segment and eerie streams of code slithered over the screen. Becky had assisted him all day long, but she was now asleep in one of the estate’s many spare bedrooms. Analyzing the incomplete code had offered invaluable insights into the challenge they faced. It was far worse than expected. The world was in terrible danger.

For years Casca had anticipated a devastating occult attack. Reports of global occult activity were popping up on a daily basis. Warlords indulging in voodoo, biker gangs and drug cartels practicing satanic rituals, South American cartels tapping into Santeria… The list went on. Small, isolated incidents that when added up could produce a disturbing cumulative effect. It didn’t bode well for the future.

And now this computer cult had arrived seemingly out of nowhere. In Casca’s mind, it represented the greatest threat he’d faced so far.

The billionaire stifled a yawn and downed his fourth Americano of the night. His body and mind protested, craving sleep, but there was no time for rest.

Casca decided to stretch his legs and go for a quick walk through the vast occult library adjacent to his office. His muscles ached and the physical activity might ease his anxiety. There was something terrifying about being here late at night, but Casca drew a strange comfort from the creepy surroundings. Ghosts haunted this space. Not in a literal sense — the ghosts here were only in his mind. His sister had drawn her last pain-filled breath within these walls, twelve years earlier.

In those days the books lining the shelves had been quite different, but the space was still a library. It was here where he first saw the entity that had set him on his current path. He’d received a glimpse of the abyss that day but instead of retreating, he chose to venture deeper.

A psychologist would’ve said Casca was trying to conquer his fears and atone for his inability to save his sister. A form of survivor’s guilt, perhaps. By facing the darkness he might find a way to master it.

That’s why he’d never moved and tried to put any distance between himself and his memories. The library served as a constant reminder of what lurked in the shadows. It had become his personal Ground Zero, focusing his obsession and giving shape to the mission ahead.

For twelve years Casca had studied every occult tradition known to man, delving into mysteries that should remain out of the reach of mere mortals. His wealth put him in a unique position, allowing him to indulge this obsession to a degree impossible for the average person.

But somewhere along the line Casca had reached an impasse. Studying the occult had ceased to be enough for him. What good was knowing the enemy if one never engaged him in battle? The years of silent contemplation were over. The time had arrived for direct action. A war was coming. Not a war where armies would clash on the battlefield. This would be a shadow war unfolding beneath the surface of normal society.

Casca was ready for the battle ahead. He had the will and the resources, but he was no soldier. At one point he’d contemplated using mercenaries. Financing a private army to battle this dark