hesitation even as those that had fallen struggled to get back to their feet. The spectres were immune to the officer’s bullets and quickly swarmed forward.
“Get back!” Jones yelled, and Gibson nodded his understanding, though he could barely hear him over the sound of the dead. The two men turned to run, only to find that the dead were on all sides.
The end came quickly.
Something spectral clawed at Gibson’s face, opening a large furrow in his cheek, while at the same time a sudden pain flared in his leg. He looked down to find a revenant with its rotting teeth clamped around his ankle. When he lowered the shotgun to blast the creature into obscurity, others rushed forward, grasping at him.
Gibson went down in a pile of bodies, his screams rising to join those of the dead.
Jones’s pistol went silent at that point as he used up the last of the ammunition he was carrying. He hurled it at the face of the first revenant that got close enough, then stuck out with his fists and feet, as the dead swarmed over him.
*** ***
The spectacle over, the Necromancer turned his attention back to his task. He could feel the spirit weakening, could feel the struggle shifting in his favor, so he reached down for his reserves and poured more energy into the fray.
And won the struggle.
A moment later the lid of the coffin was thrown violently open from the inside.
A hand, spotted with mold, was thrust up into the night air.
“Arise!” the Necromancer commanded, and the revenant inside the casket obeyed, forcing itself upright to stand on wobbly legs.
As it stepped clear of the casket, its gaze fell upon the woman lying bound and gagged at its feet.
With a cry of both anguish and hunger, the creature threw itself upon the offering and began to feed.
Logan laughed aloud at the sight, uncaring.
CHAPTER SEVEN
They were awoken before dawn with the report of another attack, this time in Ohio. Less than twenty minutes after being informed of this new development, Echo Team was airborne, headed for the site of the latest confrontation. Driven to the airport by the same novice who’d delivered the note, they found one of the Order’s Gulfstream IV aircraft waiting for them, courtesy of the Preceptor. Within moments of their arrival the group boarded the plane and took off.
Like most of the Order’s equipment, the interior of the aircraft was spartan. Gone were the leather seats and the recessed minibars, the inflight entertainment centers, and the four-star meals. Only the bare necessities had been spared, though the privacy curtain that separated the main compartment from the smaller, private compartment to the rear remained.
Riley was up front with the pilot. Duncan was seated in the middle compartment with Olsen, who had spent the time since boarding searching through a variety of databases on his laptop. He hadn’t yet said a word to his new teammate, so Duncan was surprised when Olsen suddenly sat back and asked, “So what’s your story?”
Duncan looked up from the magazine he was idly flipping through and across the aisle to where the other man was seated. “My story?”
Olsen was older than Duncan, though not by more than a few years. He carried himself with the assured confidence of a man who had seen and conquered all that life had thrown in his path. His rust-colored hair was cut short in military fashion, and his beard was trimmed so that it neatly framed his narrow face.
“Yeah, you know, where you’re from, why you joined this crazy outfit in the first place?” The other man acted casual, but Duncan knew there was more than idle interest in the question.
“Not much to tell,” Duncan replied. “I was born and raised in Georgia. Undergrad and grad degrees in religious studies, then spent some time in the missionary field before being asked to join the Order.”
“Missionary work, huh? Where?”
“Mostly in Southeast Asia. Thailand, Laos, even spent about six months in mainland China.” And I
“Get back!” Jones yelled, and Gibson nodded his understanding, though he could barely hear him over the sound of the dead. The two men turned to run, only to find that the dead were on all sides.
The end came quickly.
Something spectral clawed at Gibson’s face, opening a large furrow in his cheek, while at the same time a sudden pain flared in his leg. He looked down to find a revenant with its rotting teeth clamped around his ankle. When he lowered the shotgun to blast the creature into obscurity, others rushed forward, grasping at him.
Gibson went down in a pile of bodies, his screams rising to join those of the dead.
Jones’s pistol went silent at that point as he used up the last of the ammunition he was carrying. He hurled it at the face of the first revenant that got close enough, then stuck out with his fists and feet, as the dead swarmed over him.
*** ***
The spectacle over, the Necromancer turned his attention back to his task. He could feel the spirit weakening, could feel the struggle shifting in his favor, so he reached down for his reserves and poured more energy into the fray.
And won the struggle.
A moment later the lid of the coffin was thrown violently open from the inside.
A hand, spotted with mold, was thrust up into the night air.
“Arise!” the Necromancer commanded, and the revenant inside the casket obeyed, forcing itself upright to stand on wobbly legs.
As it stepped clear of the casket, its gaze fell upon the woman lying bound and gagged at its feet.
With a cry of both anguish and hunger, the creature threw itself upon the offering and began to feed.
Logan laughed aloud at the sight, uncaring.
CHAPTER SEVEN
They were awoken before dawn with the report of another attack, this time in Ohio. Less than twenty minutes after being informed of this new development, Echo Team was airborne, headed for the site of the latest confrontation. Driven to the airport by the same novice who’d delivered the note, they found one of the Order’s Gulfstream IV aircraft waiting for them, courtesy of the Preceptor. Within moments of their arrival the group boarded the plane and took off.
Like most of the Order’s equipment, the interior of the aircraft was spartan. Gone were the leather seats and the recessed minibars, the inflight entertainment centers, and the four-star meals. Only the bare necessities had been spared, though the privacy curtain that separated the main compartment from the smaller, private compartment to the rear remained.
Riley was up front with the pilot. Duncan was seated in the middle compartment with Olsen, who had spent the time since boarding searching through a variety of databases on his laptop. He hadn’t yet said a word to his new teammate, so Duncan was surprised when Olsen suddenly sat back and asked, “So what’s your story?”
Duncan looked up from the magazine he was idly flipping through and across the aisle to where the other man was seated. “My story?”
Olsen was older than Duncan, though not by more than a few years. He carried himself with the assured confidence of a man who had seen and conquered all that life had thrown in his path. His rust-colored hair was cut short in military fashion, and his beard was trimmed so that it neatly framed his narrow face.
“Yeah, you know, where you’re from, why you joined this crazy outfit in the first place?” The other man acted casual, but Duncan knew there was more than idle interest in the question.
“Not much to tell,” Duncan replied. “I was born and raised in Georgia. Undergrad and grad degrees in religious studies, then spent some time in the missionary field before being asked to join the Order.”
“Missionary work, huh? Where?”
“Mostly in Southeast Asia. Thailand, Laos, even spent about six months in mainland China.” And I
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