Damnation Code (William Massa) - William Massa Page 0,42

foe sounded good in theory, but less so in practice. Mercenaries would throw his money back at him once they knew what terrors they were up against. This wasn’t a conflict that could be won by hired guns. He required someone who shared his dedication. Someone who understood that dark forces were gathering and needed to be stopped at all costs. Someone like Talon.

Casca had recognized the man’s potential from the moment he first laid eyes on him. Talon was the knight he’d been searching for. The warrior who could take the fight to the enemy. They were both victims of the occult; they both brought their own specialized skills to the table. Together, they would be able to turn the tide in this conflict. Or so he hoped.

Now it appeared that he was losing the man. He blamed himself for pushing Talon away. He’d moved too fast. No one in their right minds would accept the dark truth without experiencing it firsthand.

Casca’s eagerness had betrayed him and put the whole plan at risk. He prayed that the situation was reversible. Unfortunately, Talon’s unwillingness to answer his calls didn’t bode well. Either he had permanently turned his back or, worse, he was now in the hands of the enemy.

The latter possibility filled Casca with even greater dread. He needed the soldier to crush this cult.

Casca was yanked from his thoughts by his chirping cell. It was Jackson, one of his security men. “Mr. Casca, Talon has returned.”

Casca’s face flooded with relief. The incident at the Apple Store must have brought Talon back to his senses. Maybe he finally recognized that together, they stood a far better chance of defeating Zagan.

“Send him in.”

The phone went dead.

Casca navigated the maze of shelves and occult objects until he reached the library’s main chamber. Jackson and Talon grew visible in the near distance.

“Talon, it’s good to see you…” The words trailed off as the Delta operator’s hand came up in one smooth motion, Glock leveled. A stunned Jackson went for his gun but Talon viciously pistol-whipped him. The guard lost his balance and slammed into one of the occult display cases in an explosion of glass.

Talon sighted down on Casca and unleashed a fusillade of lead. Bullets strafed the air and perforated a row of books. The mysterious tomes erupted in clouds of paper and shredded binding. Talon emptied the magazine as Casca retreated into the aisles of the library.

Zagan must’ve somehow gotten to Talon. Casca had speculated that the cultists were under some form of supernatural control. Talon’s conversion suggested that this was indeed the case.

What could he do? Casca didn’t stand a chance against a super-soldier like Talon. He kept a gun in his desk drawer, but he doubted that he’d get the opportunity to draw it without being struck down first.

He had to find a way to reach Talon. To break the spell he was under. If he could make it back to his office, there might be a way. This mad gamble was his best shot at saving both Talon and himself.

More bullets lashed the air. Two more display cases exploded.

Casca scrambled into his office, heart pounding as Talon gained behind him. He surged toward his laptop, the screen still flickering with occult code. He reached the computer just as Talon stepped into the office, gun up.

Casca regarded the Delta operator. Some force had drained all the humanity from Talon’s eyes and filled the void with lethal intent.

“Talon, this isn’t who you are! Zagan murdered Michelle! You must fight this…”

For a moment, the gun wavered in Talon’s hand, but the hesitation didn’t extinguish the fearsome darkness in his slitted gaze.

Talon brought up his gun.

Casca punched the laptop’s play button, streaming the terrible footage he’d discovered on its hard drive earlier that day to the 90-inch plasma TV-screen in his office.

As the big-screen TV ignited to life with the laptop’s video images, Talon pulled the trigger.

***

Talon’s world had become a place of darkness. A world where all his thoughts were drowned out by the occult program. For a split second, though, Casca’s words almost seemed to make sense. What was his target talking about? Who was Michelle? In the far recesses of his mind, a memory stirred but was quickly suppressed. He served Zagan. He served the darkness. The billionaire’s words were meant to confuse him. Distract him from his true purpose. They were nothing but a pack of lies. Weak attempts at throwing him off.

He raised the Glock. His fingers