The Summoner's Sigil Read online

  The Summoner’s Sigil

  An Argon Adventures Novel

  Renee Sebastian

  Books In the Argon Adventures Series

  Tesla’s Revenge

  The Cthulhu Crisis

  The Fall of Neverland

  The First Law

  Palladium

  The Summoner’s Sigil

  Published by Séance Press

  Text Copyright © 2015

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people, even if you received a downloaded free copy. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, then please return to your book retailer and purchase your own copy.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1 Smoke Signals

  Chapter 2 Return of the Prodigal Daughter

  Chapter 3 Mr. Colin Townshend

  Chapter 4 The Red Forest

  Chapter 5 The Lake House

  Chapter 6 Sigil Snarls

  Chapter 7 Goliath Headaches

  Chapter 8 Reveries

  Chapter 9 Lost Souls

  Chapter 10 Undead Tongues

  Chapter 11 Clockwork Mummies

  Chapter 12 Demons and Liars

  Chapter 13 Zombie Teeth

  Chapter 14 Crooks and Flails

  Chapter 15 Sobek

  Chapter 16 Infernal Infants

  Chapter 17 Séance

  Chapter 18 Stones and Bones

  Chapter 19 Hieroglyphic Sigils

  Chapter 20 Pentachorons

  Chapter 21 Queen of Shadows

  Chapter 22 Bonds

  Chapter 23 Homecomings

  Epilogue

  Grandfather’s Rules

  “An elementary particle is not an independently existing, unanalyzable entity. It is, in essence, a set of relationships that reach outward to other things.”

  -H.P. Stapp, twentieth-century physicist

  Prologue

  “Just one last stroke to finish the sigil Smiles,” Angus Flannigan said to Niles McQuillen. Niles was more commonly known these days as Smiles, ever since the accident at the piano factory. He had been pulling some strings when one exceptionally taut one broke loose and slashed his mouth wider than it should have been. Whiffledorff Brothers Piano Co. called it quits about two years later, so there had been no more payouts after that.

  Angus, whether due to fate or coincidence, was a butcher by trade, but he too had been unemployed for two years. Regardless, his legs were often compared to that of a bull’s legs, while his arms were not unlike wild turkey legs, and his midsection was similar to a boar’s torso, one of the ones they liked to refer to as hogzilla.

  The only thing these two men had in common, besides a lack of cleverness and ingenuity, was that both of them currently worked for the same man, who was only known to them as Lord Blakeley. They found it odd that he called himself a Lord because no one recognized titles like Lord or Lady in the Republic of America. That was a Britannian tradition.

  The Republic of America had been independent from Britannia for nearly half a millennium, but as long as the money kept being doled out by their mysterious employer, the boys kept doing their job. So if their employer wanted to be called a Lord, then that is what they called him. Tonight’s job was a little more different from most however.

  Their usual job involved stealing this or that for him, or roughing someone up. Once, they accidentally killed someone they were only supposed to cripple, but his Lordship wasn’t disturbed in the least. He even took the body and disposed of it himself, and after that, they brought him many bodies. They were rather successful at this until their latest assignment.

  They had been assigned to murder a person named Colin Townsend. They didn’t know why, nor did they care. All they knew was that he was not a User, and that he was last seen in the city of Convent in the Louisianan Territory. But things had gone downhill from there as they bungled several attempts to murder him. Then they received word that he had gone to Napoleonville.

  Napoleonville was hardly a town at all, due to its sparse population. The few families living in the rural part of the parish were also not helpful in the least to Smiley or Angus. Regardless, they persevered, but had no luck in locating the man. In the end, they had no one to blame but themselves when they told Lord Blakeley that their quarry had been particularly wily and eluded them.

  Much to their surprise, when Lord Blakeley found out, he did not punish them, but rather excused their ineptness by giving them a new tool to aid them during their assignment. He gave them a sigil and general instructions on how to use it. It never crossed their minds once why Lord Blakeley chose this moment for them to use their God given User talents.

  Users were people with genetically mutated blood who could manipulate the electromagnetic resonances of the Earth to do magic. Angus’s special ability was to summon fiends from the demon planes, which had been outlawed for several decades in the Republic, but not in the rest of the world. Due to his lack of use, he was a tad rusty, but he didn’t let that stop him as he added a smear of his own blood to finish the design on the wooden floor in an abandoned barn just outside of Napoleonville.

  Smiles was a Tomb Talker, a specialized Necromancer who could talk to dead spirits, which was legal in the Republic of America. Pure Necromancy, raising dead bodies to pilot, would get you a one way ticket in front of a firing squad, but only if you were caught raising the dead. Smiles was one of those special individuals who had both powers at his disposal.

  “I can’t remember what we were supposed to do next,” Angus told Smiles.

  “I don’t think it matters precisely what you say, as long as your intent is clear,” Smiles replied.

  “Who taught you that?” Angus asked.

  “I read it in a book once.” Smiles answered.

  “What the hell?”

  “It came from Britannia and was dated 2215, so don’t worry, it is recent stuff.”

  “Well, my Grandmamma had the gift, and she said I had to use certain words,” Angus insisted.

  “Damn it man. If you think you have to say specific words, get on with it then.”

  “Fine, fine.” He spat on his hands, rubbed them together for no particular reason, and then closed his eyes. He thought back to his childhood days, and then he concentrated harder still on all she had taught him of the craft those many years ago.

  He raised out his hands and allowed his subconscious to do the work for him. He had little in the way of training, but his Grandmamma had told him that he did have quite a bit of raw talent.

  Finally, he allowed the gibberish to flow out through his mouth in hopes of raising whatever his employer had thought would aid them in finding this Colin Townshend, who had gone to hole, so to speak.

  “Hey, something’s happening,” Smiles said.

  “Maybe you should join in with me now?” Angus asked, only breaking his chanting for a moment and not bothering to open his eyes to see what Smiles was trying to tell him.

  Smiles, not quite as naïve as Angus, and he grew nervous. As he shuffled his way to the edge of the circle, he said, “I don’t think we are supposed to be in the circle before you call forth the demon.”

  Angus ignored him, feeling a new kind of euphoria flood his adrenal system. It was a feeling of pure exhilaration. He didn’t want it to stop.

  Up from the spilled blood and ochre markings rose a primordial beast. It wasn’t overly large or threatening in appearance. In fact, you could hardly see it at all, since it appeared to be made more of shadows rather than of form. It wasn’t eve
n interested in killing Angus or Smiles, but it did want something from them. It wanted a place to make its home… somewhere to breed… and it had two perfectly good abodes in which to replicate itself. So it chose both of them.

  Chapter 1

  Smoke Signals

  Rule number thirteen: Service before family.

  “I do.”

  “You may kiss the bride.”

  Dorian pulled no stops, as he tore the veil from Wendy’s head and threw it to the ground. “I never want another barrier separating your lips from my own ever again,” he growled quietly at her. I was only somewhat certain that no one other than those in the wedding party could hear him.

  He then kissed her with such abandon, that even the priest looked abashedly away. He finally said in an awkward manner, “And I present to you Lord and Lady Grey.”

  Dorian did not take the hint, and the poor man had to say it three more times, before Dorian finally ceased and desisted.

  Everyone threw rice at the happy couple as they ran down the aisle. How many people got married in Big Ben? Construction had been non-stop to repair the damage to the landmark, even more so than it had been at Grey Manor or Agora headquarters. Now that the ceremony was over in the clock room, they travelled back to the palace by way of Bridge Street to Birdcage Walk.

  Wendy had been quite insistent that they not be married in St. Paul’s Cathedral, despite the cathedral’s six hundred and fifty year tradition of marrying only all the important people in Britannia. She told me last night, “It should be for the royals, not for the likes of me.” Dorian was only too happy to comply, since his ambivalence regarding his religious preferences was well known.

  Wendy spent the night with me in the west wing of Grey Manor, whose reconstruction had only just been completed. As such, our room had only the barest of décor for now, but that was best for Calidum anyway. It wouldn’t do at all to have him set the house on fire after they had just finished remodeling it from the previous fire, concerning which he had nothing to do with. No, that was Peter’s doing and good riddance I say. The only things left to do were to rebuild the ground’s gardens and its east wing.

  I thought it sweet of her to give Dorian one more night of freedom, but secretly I wasn’t above setting Calidum to spy on him. I was happy to report to her the next morning that Dorian first went to a silent auction, where he bought a complete estate collection of archaic books, presumably to replace the Agora’s library. He had personally destroyed the old one in his anger when Wendy grew gravely ill nearly three months ago.

  Next, he and Mr. Lancaster went to a licensed gambling den. Calidum reported that he had taken many men’s papers. Then they both went back at Mr. Lancaster’s townhouse in London, where they shared cigars and absinthe. They then retired for the evening at a respectable three o’clock in the morning.

  “Basil, you shouldn’t have spied on him. Believe it or not, I do trust him,” Wendy told me.

  “You can only trust a man for as long as you can stir the grits,” I said primly, which wasn’t very long at all while cooking them over an open fire.

  Wendy’s face scrunched up in a vain attempt to make some sense of what I had told her, and then she said, “Was that something your grandfather used to say?”

  “Great Grandmother Eloise Marie Beckenbauer actually.”

  “Of course it was Eloise Marie Beckenbauer,” she said as she shook her head. She walked over to her coat had been slung across a chair and added, “Which reminds me to give you this.”

  Most of her coat pockets were jammed full of guns and ammo, and even though she wasn’t currently wearing the black coat, it didn’t mean that she was weaponless. Quite the contrary, since she had her Banteki blades strapped to her arms, and she could make any houseplant in a quarter mile radius branch out to wrap around any neck of her choosing, causing a slow death by asphyxiation.

  I wasn’t defenseless either. My belt always had no less than three athames and a Rampuri. One of the athames had been a gift from Dorian. There was something special about that blade, but I hadn’t had the time to investigate it more fully yet, since I had been spending most of my time rounding up critters for the Noah’s Ark they had been building for Neverland. The vessel should be ready to sail just after Dorian and Wendy leave for their first honeymoon, which was in reality a thinly veiled diplomatic mission to the West Indies to meet with the Merpeople. They needed to ascertain if the portal there was functional, and if it was large enough to be accommodating not only for the vessel, but also for several of the Petras and a couple of lunk-a-tunks we were holding in a cluster of warehouses down at Wizard’s Wharf.

  After fishing out a thick envelope from the pocket, she presented it to me. I took it and looked down at the calligraphic script scrawled across the front of it. I knew from whom this was from, my mother. I hesitantly tore through the waxen seal that had an impression of a gryphon pressed into the middle of it. Once opened, I took out the packet of papers that had been shoved into it. The post had been reestablished for a mere ten days, and mail from overseas had only just started being delivered a few days ago at best. This must have been sent with some priority.

  The top sheet was from my mother.

  Dear Basil Rose,

  I hope this letter finds you safe and well. I know that we did not leave on the best of terms, but you have always been a willful child.

  Your father would really like to know when you are coming home. He has not been feeling well these days, but I personally think it is because our nation has elected a woman for President, and not anything to do with his gout. These have been trying times for us all.

  You must be thinking that everyone now knows of your affliction, and that you might be barred from ever returning home. Much to our surprise, we were paid a visit by a representative of President Newton’s Heteroclite Division. He informed us that for some reason an emergency bill has been pushed through an all-night session legalizing Summoners throughout the entire thirty-two states and territories.

  Now here comes the most exciting news he brought us that evening. Because of the growing importance that Louisiana has with its oil production, mild vacationing climate, and access to the Luna Sea, he said that adding Louisiana as a state was going to be put officially on the next off season election ballot. He said that only important first families of the territories were being informed. He also, for some reason, felt that we should be a whole family again, even though I informed him we were quite whole as we were. But he insisted that having you return would ensure our standing in the community and the White House. In fact, the man hasn’t left our home since he arrived.

  It is with a light heart that I request your return to Rose Glen in the timeliest of fashions. I have included passage back to the states, and your work visa has been revoked, since you are now an upstanding natural born citizen of the Republic. Your User card and birth certificate have been reissued, and I have included them in this packet of papers as well.

  While we do expect your visit soon, we also will understand if you decide to take up permanent residency back at old lake house. If you wouldn’t mind, we would appreciate your speedy return.

  Warm Regards,

  Mrs. Juniper Beckenbauer

  I went through the other papers and indeed found the card, birth documents, and voyage tickets. In addition, which she didn’t mention, was a proclamation by President Alice Newton stating that I had been declared a national hero, along with a Presidential Medal of Freedom. I could only guess that they feared I might never return to the Republic otherwise. Included also was a governor’s pass, which would allow me the freedom to move between territories and states unhindered by the local authorities. The medal I could understand, the pass I could not.

  I had just aided in removing the most dangerous threat the world had known since the last world war over a hundred and fifty years ago, but why would I be allowed easy passage between the states and territories? What I expected was to be heavily monitored instead.
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  Since I wanted to go through Grandfather’s library again and attempt to contact his spirit, I already intended to go back to the states regardless of my newfound status. This just made things a whole lot easier. Wendy didn’t know all of my motivations, though I suspected she guessed at much.

  I looked up at Wendy, who was in turn looking at me expectantly. “Here,” I said dumping the stack of papers into her lap.

  She spent the next ten minutes carefully examining them and then she said, “President Newton either wants you to do something for the government, or she wants to keep you amendable to helping her at some future date.

  “Also, that letter from your mother is deplorable. You’re not really going back there are you? You have people who love you here. I need you with me. Come with us to Mermaid Isle. I’m sure they will try to do something devious, and I’ll need you to banish them… to somewhere or something.”

  I took her hand in my own and said, “You are my sweetest friend Wendy. No, I need to go back and you know why.” I had a dark desire in my heart to reunite, no matter how brief the interlude would be, with my deceased Grandfather. He had been my best friend, father figure, teacher, mentor, and biggest supporter for most of my life. I had to do this, if only to have the chance to say I was sorry for what had happened, and to tell him I loved him. I needed absolution, and this was not something that Wendy could grant me, even being the Queen of the Elves and on the council of the Royal Agora.

  “Well, I’m certain that I can convince Dorian to keep a seat permanently open for you on the council for when you return. I don’t want to be there day after day without another female perspective.”

  “Well, that’s nice for a girl to know, since I know your vote is the only one that counts when you are married to the Premier.” I added a wink when I said the last bit.