Prologue

Deep in the drains and sewers below the Maryland suburbs of Washington, D.C., the darkness came alive. It had been waiting there for the better part of a year, regaining its strength and preparing its plans. It had fed well, amazingly. At first it was content with rats and smaller animals, but not for long. After all these humans did not seem to care about each other in the way it was used to. No one even seemed to notice the missing people it had killed and in fact it seemed that missing people was simply a fact of life in this world. Still it was careful not to feed too often in one place and to destroy the bodies afterwards. But even with the slower feeding, it had recovered very well from the attack that had nearly destroyed it. It had not even realized just how much of its strength and power was tied into the spells that kept it bound underneath a mountain for so many millennia.

It had planned to wait longer but for some reason the need to act had been growing in its mind so the past few weeks. Perhaps it was the prophecy or perhaps it had simply run out of patience. The need for revenge had been burning deep inside ever since it had been betrayed by its own kind for destroying lesser creatures. The burning seed had been fanned into almost unbearable loathing when that child of an Archmage had unleashed the power of the goddess upon it. The pain had been unspeakable and even worse then the physical suffering was the knowledge of another failure. That world should have been ripe for the plucking. There had been no new Archmages in more then ten centuries. But this boy had been found and managed interfere. Well his reward would be the destruction of everything he loved. This world would make a fine base of power once it had been conquered.

Nothing that these humans had created could hurt it. They had long ago given up their magic in exchange for the pollution and suffering of their technology. But guns and planes and tanks were no match for a creature with immense power and no physical body to damage. Yet they would make fine minions and their war machines would make a fine army to use to return and destroy the goddess and all that she had touched. But first thing was first. It had to take care of the boy-mage and his allies.

It had been studying the human all the time while it had regained its strength. It knew his weaknesses and it knew how it could exploit them. All it needed was the proper timing and some allies. The wall between the worlds was thin here but it had not been about to breech it until it had fully recovered. It was too likely to be discovered. But now it had little choice. It could not act directly yet, not when there was so much light above. But it could still act through its pawns and use them to spread its influence.

It wondered again if it was being manipulated. After all it had waited a thousand years last time before acting. This impatience was simply not normal. Well either way there was little to be done. It was not about to abandon the fight when victory was so close. Putting the thought from its mind, the entity known as the Enemy gathered its powers and began.

Harvey Brighton, also known as the Mystical Maxismo, stood outside the garishly painted store front and debated with himself. On the one hand, he did not feel like opening the store. He was a mediocre medium and paltry psychic at best and today he was simply not feeling creative. On the other hand, he had an appointment in ten minutes with Mrs. Gladys Henderson. She always insisted he call her Mrs. even though her husband had been dead for nearly ten years. She was a thoroughly irritating woman but one of his best and most loyal clients and her weekly visits had been the difference between making his rent payments and being evicted more then once.

With a sigh, Harvey pulled out his keys and unlocked the door. He would just close up early today. There was nothing in the afternoon that could not be shuffled around. Besides it made him look busy and in demand to be closed during peak hours and that could only help his business. Maybe he would even get back a few of his old clients. Word of mouth is a powerful thing in the mystic circles and if it got out that he was turning down customers they might just swarm to him. Or at the very least he would get some sleep. He had been out at the bars until closing without success. The girls seemed immune to palm reading and aura sensing last night. All he had gotten for his trouble was a pounding headache and a mouth that tasted like the bottom of a beer can after someone put a cigarette out in it.

Harvey shuffled into the cool dark of his store thankfully. Whoever had invented the hours between last call and noon should be dragged through the streets and shot. The store was a little hole in the wall but it was cheap and had all he needed. The entire room was maybe fifteen feet wide and twenty five feet deep. Harvey had brought in a foldable partition to section off the back of the room where he stored a small microwave and a mini-fridge with beer and frozen entrees.

The rest of the room was an absolute riot of color. Just looking at it made Harvey’s head spin for a moment. The walls were covered with overlying scarves, drapes, and wall hangings in every perceivable color. It was supposed to look like a gypsy tent but looked to Harvey more like a crayon box had vomited on his walls. The floors were just as bad with rugs and carpet scraps laid together without any sense of color scheme or taste. But it seemed to work with the sort of people that actually would come to a psychic in the first place. The only furniture was a small round table with three chairs around it.

A quick glance at his watch showed Harvey that it was only five minutes to his 9 o’clock appointment and Mrs. Henderson was never late. He wished for a few minutes to brush his teeth and freshen up but it was obviously not to be. Harvey quickly donned his black robe with the faded stars and planets sewed on it and wrapped a red scarf around his lank and thinning hair. A quick glance in his crystal ball showed a specter that looked more like one of the homeless panhandlers then a gateway to the beyond. Harvey had always been thin and with the blood shot eyes and day’s worth of stumble he looked absolutely awful. Luckily Mrs. Henderson was a true believer, maybe he could pass off his appearance as a result of a lot of turbulence in the spirit world.

At precisely 9:00 there was a single sharp knock on Harvey’s front door. Mrs. Henderson never knocked more then once and was always very annoyed if it took Harvey more then ten seconds to answer the door. Not for the first time Harvey wondered what had become of his life. He had been a fairly respected psychic once. He could actually communicate with the dead and had even been called in by the police a couple times to help find out where the bodies had been buried. But time and booze had taken their toll and now he was reduced to bilking widows out of their insurance money in order to stay off the streets.

Of course if he wanted to avoid those streets for a little bit longer he had best hurry up and answer the door. Mrs. Henderson gave him a sour look when he hurriedly opened the door but thankfully did not comment. She was a short and round woman whose face seemed to be locked in a permanent expression of disapproval and whose voice could stun the birds out of the trees. Her grey hair was pulled back in a rather severe bun and her face had enough makeup to cover a fair sized wall. Harvey had always expected that her late husband had died just to get a moment of peace. And in fact there were sessions when Harvey rather envied the late Mr. Stanley Henderson’s escape from the woman.

“Mr. Maxismo” she said with disgust in her voice. “You look like something my cat dragged in. If my business is too much for you I can take it elsewhere. My poor Stanley will simply be undone if I can not speak to him this week and you do not appear to be fit for the job.”

Harvey forced a smile and nodded politely. “My apologies, Mrs. Henderson. The spirits kept me awake all night. Something must have stirred them up, they were howling in my ears until dawn.”

If anything her expression got more unpleasant. “The type of spirits that have been besetting you Mr. Maxismo are the kind that come from a bottle wrapped in brown paper.” She raised a hand to forestall any comment. “But I am here and my Stanley is waiting for me. Just do not let it happen again. You are not the only one in town capable of contacting the spirit world after all.”

Harvey bit his lip and kept his mouth shut. Even if she had been wrong, trying to argue with Mrs. Henderson is a completely pointless act. He ushered the older woman to the small table and waited until she was seated before taking his seat opposite her. The client seats were small and hard and meant to discourage anyone from sitting for too long. After all Harvey was paid by the session no matter how long it lasted and had no desire to feign interest while the customers droned on for hours on end. But Mrs. Henderson settled in with the air of someone that was not moving any time soon. So much for the slight hope that she was disgusted enough to want to leave early.

Settling himself into his own padded chair, Harvey attempted to relax. He allowed his eyes to roll closed and slowed down his breathing. He always at least attempted to contact the spirits when he had a client. Sometimes it still actually worked and it was much more impressive then faking it. Besides with the way Harvey felt this morning he was not sure he could come up with believable lies to give Mrs. Henderson her money’s worth.

At first there was nothing, not that Harvey was actually expecting to find a ghost willing to visit him. Once they flocked to him, he could barely close his eyes without being surrounded by the things. But now he could rarely even penetrate the veil between worlds much less find a willing spook. After a couple of minutes he was ready to give up. The fake moaning would not be much of a stretch, but flailing around was definitely out unless he wanted to throw up all over his best client.

Just as he was about to start his possessed by the spirits act, Harvey felt something. It was definitely a spiritual contact but it felt odd to him. But odd or not it was a ghost and it seemed to be reaching out to him. Harvey was excited, he had not felt a ghost in months and even when he was younger it would have been hard to make a connection when he was this hung over. Trying his best to focus, Harvey allowed his mind to reach out and touch the spirit, get a feel for it and hopefully draw it into his body. A real spirit would definitely impress his client and maybe she would spread the word for him.

The spirit came on and Harvey did his best to reach out to it. It was a very strong spirit, he could feel that as it approached. There was always a bit of risk when dealing with the really strong ones, but Harvey had never had any real trouble before. Still he was not at his best and so he began to retreat from the realm of ghosts and return to his body. After all a good show was not worth risking his own well being. He would just have to hope his act was not bad enough to cause Mrs. Henderson to suspect him as a fraud.

As soon as he felt safely settled into his own body, Harvey began moaning and flailing around as best as he could. There was no way he was going to manage rolling his eyes into his head, so he added a bit of foaming spittle to the act. He was well into being ‘possessed’ before Harvey realized he could still feel the spirit approaching him. That should have been impossible. Even when his powers were full, he could never feel the ghosts unless he made a conscious effort. The spirits are like infants that way, if you do not see them then they can not see you. But this one did and it was coming straight for him.

Harvey started to panic. Where could you hide from a ghost? He took a deep breath and tried to shut down his connection to the spirit realm. It was difficult while he was wailing and flailing around for his client but he managed. But the results were the same. He tried to build the walls in his head to shut out the phantom but that too failed. He went through every technique and ritual he could think of but it was as if he the connection was being held open by something far more powerful then any spirit. As it drew closer Harvey could feel its power and malevolence and realized this was not any sort of ghost. It was something far worse then that. He started screaming for real, which seemed to startle Mrs. Henderson who had been watching his performance intently.

The screams turned to moans and gasps as the dark entity slid into Harvey Brighton’s mind. He tried to fight the influence but it was like trying to hold back a flood of raw sewage. Harvey he struggled for a minute but was soon pushed down and buried under a tidal wave of blackness. His struggles grew weaker and weaker and his body stopped responding to his commands. He could not longer see or even feel anything. His last true awareness was the sound of Mrs. Henderson screaming. And her screams went on for a very long time.