Damnation Code (William Massa) - William Massa Page 0,43
whitened on the trigger. And that’s when a familiar face splashed on the monitor.
Why did he recognize this woman? There was something familiar about her. Hooded attackers wearing silver robot masks surrounded her. A quiver ran up his arm as he fired. His aim was off and the bullet missed Casca, shattering the illuminated globe instead. The bullet punched a giant hole into Atlantic and the globe’s light extinguished.
The images on the plasma screen were affecting him somehow. Doubt coiled up inside him. This time it took root and began to spread.
Talon stared at the scene playing out on the display. His breath hitched as the first knife plunged into the hapless female. The shakes traveled up his until his whole body was trembling. Was that a tear forming in his eye? It couldn’t be.
His mind reeled and recoiled. Confusion and darkness gave way to dawning understanding. He remembered how he knew this woman… her voice was so familiar…
Michelle.
The name wormed its way through his consciousness, an echo of another life.
My Michelle…
She was in danger. The men onscreen were hurting her. Killing her.
They killed her!
Understanding shattered the darkness inside him and clarity returned with each successive thrust of the knife. As Michelle’s life ran out onscreen, Talon dropped the gun. The Glock hit the carpet with a thump that reverberated all the way into his soul. Casca’s voice sliced into his awareness.
“Talon, these monsters killed your Michelle.”
No!
“They’re using you.”
This can’t be.
“Are you going to let them get away with murder?”
NOOOOOOO!
A pitiful scream of unbridled anguish welled up and broke free from the depths of his deepest, darkest pain. Seeing Michelle die again shattered his defenses, stripped him of his emotional armor, tore through skin, muscle, sinew and bone straight to the core of his being.
Talon collapsed to the ground, sobbing. The video ended. Silence descended over Casca’s office.
The man who lowered his head had been Zagan’s servant. The man who stared up at Casca was the occult assassin. ”Help me kill these bastards.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
WAVES OF AGONY rippled through Talon’s scarred chest. The inverted pentagram throbbed, the anguish like a physical manifestation of his pulsing rage. Zagan had taken away everything that mattered. His friend. His lover. His soul. Thanks to Casca, the Omicron CEO had ultimately failed on the last count.
Talon stole a glance at the billionaire’s security guy, Jackson. The man was massaging his bruised jaw. Talon had no memory of clocking him but was grateful he hadn’t resorted to lethal force. Perhaps on a subconscious level he’d been exerting control during his own possession, reigning in the violence in some weird way. Nevertheless, if it hadn’t been for Casca’s quick thinking he would’ve succumbed to the power of the occult algorithm.
He would have taken life in the name of Zagan’s cult.
The billionaire pointed at the laptop on his oak desk. It was running the code segment. Talon’s instinct was to recoil from the shimmering data, but Casca had reassured him it was safe. This was a small part of the program that couldn’t exert any supernatural influence over him.
“So run this by me again,” Talon said. “How is this software allowing Zagan to control reality?”
“The program is tapping into occult energy. It might help to think of it as a 21st Century version of a spell. The incantations embedded in the computer code are written in demotic, an ancient Egyptian language used in rituals to raise demons from the netherworld.”
“The netherworld? You mean like hell?”
“In a manner of speaking. Mind you, we’re not talking about Satan or the Judeo-Christian hell here.”
“So what are we talking about?” Talon was doing his best to reign in his impatience. He wasn’t used to not being in control.
“The darkness.”
Talon cocked an eyebrow.
“I don’t know if there’s one absolute truth in this world,” Casca explained. “What I do know is there’s good and evil. Two cosmic forces coursing through our universe, in constant conflict. The light and the dark. All cultures have interpreted these forces in various way. Their poets dreamt up names, their artists gave it form, their priests designed rituals. The demons and monsters and mythologies of the popular imagination are man’s attempt to grasp the darkness, a power beyond our knowledge and understanding.”
The old Talon would’ve groaned at this point, but his recent experiences had changed his attitude. All this occult stuff was still giving him a headache but he couldn’t deny the nightmare he’d lived through.
“So this darkness or demon is taking over Zagan?” Talon asked.
“Based on what you’re