The Beast

Before going to the cultists' house, I decided to stop by the home of one of the possessed to find the source of the infection to prevent its further spread. Of course, no one is likely to believe that the infection is of mystical origin, even given recent events, but I have a trump card up my sleeve in the form of an acquaintance with Commissioner Gordon. I can't say that Jim and I have such a good relationship, but I saved his life, and he won't ignore a warning from the only competent magician in his entourage.

Once again, the sculptor's spell was in full effect. I didn't even have to fiddle with the lock on the front door in a bearhugging demonstration of my skills; I just had to use my spells to reach the bolts and pull the door open to get in.

In the course of a short search, where I played the role of a bloodhound, because my faithful companion did not have true sight (by the way, we should correct this omission, Harley had already pumped her source well during the joint entertainment with Abby and Ivy, so the activation should go like clockwork), we searched all the main rooms, and soon we reached the bathroom. We had to take a short break here, giving rest to tired eyes, but after another activation of the gaze and diving to the third level, where weak magical manifestations become visible, our eyes were almost immediately caught by a small rectangular box by the sink, on which there were remnants of wizard's weaves with familiar red-black coloring.

In the real world, this box turned out to be soap of the popular brand "Mendo"... From this we can conclude that the Earth's help almost poked me in the nose, trying to prevent a global catastrophe, because in that warehouse there were more than a dozen boxes with hundreds of such surprises. Although then they were definitely without "stuffing": it is quite difficult to miss a lot of demons when they are literally under your nose, even with a complete lack of sensitivity.

However, the most interesting thing here is not the upcoming apocalypse in a separate city, the more Gotham is not used to it, but the use of a hygiene item as a vessel for an alien creature.

Someone will say, soap and soap, it is literally in every apartment, so it serves as an excellent source of distribution, but I have a serious question about the unusual method of sealing. On the one hand, the various demons are more energetic than material entities, so with a great desire they can be stuffed at least in a dime, at least in a box of matches, but on the other hand, for such a trick must be properly selected material and strengthening runes with the source of energy. Otherwise, the receptacle is too quickly destroyed under the influence of foreign energy, and in the case of soap it should happen in just a couple of minutes, despite all the tricks I know. Even ordinary wood is much better, as it is a harder material.

And while before I'd wanted to visit the Geo Populus to stop them from turning the city into a branch of the underworld, and to try out my own powers at the same time, now I had a more compelling incentive. To think that literally the lamest material in the world could hold a demonic creature in place for hours on end! And if I use at least glass, not to mention the more durable diamond, and additionally apply a containment complex that absorbs excess energy and over time becomes indestructible? Yeah, with something like that, you could take a swing at a supreme demon to create an endless battery. But I need to think about the filtration system, because pure demonic energy is not bad so presses on the brain, distorting perception, and I'm not sure that the System will help here, given that now after smoothing the emotional peak memories of the Netherworld leave a sense of euphoria and happiness.

Gordon wasn't too happy about my call to his personal phone, but he listened, and told me that the police were already aware of the situation with the soap. However, he was not aware of the mystical origin of the infection, because they had written it off as some kind of anthrax. But the information about the company that sorted the contaminated products made him very enthusiastic. I decided not to talk about the second warehouse for the time being, expecting to give the fanatics a good time first.

The new car took us quickly to the exit on the outskirts of the city, but we had to walk the rest of the way under the spell of averted eyes, so as not to alert the cultists before the time.

As we passed bare trees in the crunchy snow, we came to a view of a standard two-story concrete box with a tall barn gate that was designed for trucks. There was construction debris lying around, and the building itself hadn't seen any repairs since it was built, as the cracked walls and broken windows on the first floor made clear. There wasn't much demonic energy around, by the way, but I suspected something like that. A demonic cult with a fancy Roman name and possessed minions in a barn on the outskirts of town wasn't going to be a demonic cult, or I'd bring Abby along as heavy artillery.

In general, we saw a typical villain's lair... Only three police cars abandoned at the entrance spoiled the impression.

I even slowed down a little, trying to digest the fact that, for once, the guards had managed to be the first to arrive on the scene. But now they were doing it at the wrong time, especially if there wasn't a priest with exorcism skills or a metahuman with combat abilities among them.

"Damn, we're late! - The blonde's voice was full of genuine indignation. She was already looking forward to breaking the bastards' legs and skulls, and now it was such a bummer.

I, too, was upset at first, because I didn't want to spoil the image of the Joker, who was on the path of correction, and I wanted to try out another anti-Demon spell in a combat situation, but after some thought, I came to the conclusion that it wasn't all that bad. At least for us.

"Honey, there's some real possessed people inside who use firearms. What's a six-man patrol gonna do about it?

"That's right! No gunshots! - My faithful companion immediately regained her former enthusiasm and rushed into the building, pulling out a bat and a Glock with consecrated bullets.

All I had to do was follow.

"All right, bitches, get your demon asses ready! - Harley came in and decided to set the record straight.

"Cultists who have magic, please step back against the wall so you don't get splattered with your comrades' blood," I interjected, trying to defuse the tense situation. Except that instead of a crowd of demonic creatures that had taken on human form, there was a surprised man in a beige coat with a cigarette in his teeth, and Simon, who was insistently shoving a translucent tentacle grown from his hand down the throat of a fanatic wheezing on the floor. I identified the latter by the canvas bag with holes for eyes and mouth on his head, although, given the situation, it could well be a cheap analog of a BDSM mask.

"Ooh, looks like we're having a bad time..."

"Joker? Harley? - The boy was briefly distracted from his undoubtedly important occupation.

"Yeah, yeah, hello to you, too. Well, we'll, uh, we'll just go. Let's get out of your way," I took the girl by the elbow and pulled her toward the exit. - Damn, teenagers grow up so fast. Just yesterday he was confused about the simplest household issues and knew nothing about human anatomy, and today he's already involved in some hardcore BDSM porn in an abandoned warehouse. Ah, youth," I had to furtively wipe away the tears of pride.

Hearing my inspiring speech, the man in the coat suddenly choked on his cigarette.

"Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha, shit. Simon, do you know them? - he hissed, out of breath.

"Yeah, they're my friends. Just not like Rachel... And it's not porn, I was just reading his memory to find out where the mayor was," the translucent tenacle retracted back into the chimera's palm.

"Hmm, if it's not porn, we're gonna be a little late."

The delay was a little longer than planned. It turned out that Simon's new acquaintance worked as a detective in the eastern district of Gotham's mainland, and despite having a fairly broad mandate, he had to deal with the survivors of the massacre first, and then talk to his chief on the phone to try to explain the hell that was going on. The latter, by the way, turned out to be a very good idea, as the involuntary possessed infected continued to appear, but now they would at least try to capture them instead of finishing them off on the spot, realizing that there was a high chance of healing.

And while the man was busy, I was not bored, pulling information out of the guy and wondering at the twists and turns of the universe. How long had it been since I'd seen him? Fifteen hours? And he had suddenly turned from a naive young man into a seasoned devil hunter who knew a dozen rather specific spells that required demonic energy.

The Mind Eater's mind-reading projection is worth the price of admission alone! Although the Mind Eater's abilities are closely tied to the school of the mind, making it one of the most dangerous creatures in the world, it looks nothing like Illithid from the Forgotten Realms series. He is a large dark green octopus about five meters tall with many eyes and no hint of a humanoid body. In addition, this species is not particularly fond of its kin and prefers to settle far away from them, surrounding itself with an entourage of subordinate creatures.

In principle, I admit that the presence of a large number of heads and souls does not contribute to the stability of the psyche, so the character of the guy can change even every five minutes, but the knowledge of spells and the ability to use them, especially given that complex weaves are very demanding to control, can not come out of thin air.

The solution was simple, and it consisted in a partial recovery of memory, as well as in the connection to the noosphere. And if the first required only the right associative series, kindly thrown by the detective, but for the second point Simon had to go to an abandoned laboratory under the slaughterhouse, to find the grimoire in the stash, at the same time beat up the cultists, and then to create a complex spell, requiring quite specific ingredients, which he and his friend managed to get in an ordinary store where they sell magical paraphernalia for geeks. I'd never thought it was possible to find a mixture of grave earthworm and aconite and moon dew from five-leaf clover in such a place, but I wrote down the address.

And, of course, I just couldn't ignore the information about the grimoire I had found. But there were two big bummer things waiting for me at once. The book with a red pentagram on its cover, which I had taken out of my coat pocket, turned out to be a really dark artifact, and in true vision it was a clot of viscous darkness. It wasn't even advisable to touch such a thing with a meter stick, let alone pick it up, but Simon didn't care. The second bummer happened when Harley and I explained how we connected to the noosphere.

Let's just say it's not meant to be used by humans at all. Firstly, the connection is made through the call of another demon with an excessive number of tentacles, which means that the caster will be injected with a decent amount of demonic mana during the energy exchange, and here it follows, secondly, in fact, between the mind of the demon and the mind of the user will not be any buffer zone, so that to lose their own soul in the process or become someone else's puppet quite easily. And thirdly, the amount of information is really huge, and the human brain is hardly able to withstand it, without catching in passing a couple dozen strokes. A banal query about the structure of a dandelion will produce a ton of related information because of the associative range, starting from cooking methods and ending with the exact coordinates of the nearest thousand pieces. And if the last point can still be solved by properly selected search conditions, then nothing can be done with the previous ones without breaking the foundation.

The other spells proved to be less demanding, but no less dangerous to the caster, and the curious thing was that Simon didn't give a damn about most of the restrictions. Demonic energy? It's splashing around in him as it is, doing no harm. Demonjuga on contact trying to steal a piece of soul? The chimera has nineteen of them at once, and available under the contract in the ritual itself as if does not take part. Access to consciousness is a similar nonsense. Maybe the heart should stop when the spell is cast. As it stopped, it will start again, even if it takes ten minutes.

To summarize, the weaves in the grimoire were created for Simon, or vice versa: he was created to be able to use them without serious consequences. But either way, the main limitation for me is the use of demonic energy in the weaves. There is simply no normal converter for it, unlike the same light mana, although there are some nuances with it, so there are several options of varying degrees of reliability. Either sell your ass to one of the Lords, or dabble with summoning, using demonic creatures as a mediator, or create a storehouse with the right type of energy in advance, using the previous point, hoping that it will not run out at the most crucial moment.

The fascinating conversation was interrupted when a man who had finished his business approached us. It was only now that I could get a good look at his aura, and I didn't like what I saw. It looked a lot like Simon's: dead, undead, half-demon, half-zombie. But it was many, many times weaker and less static than the blacksmith's creation.

"Detective Thomas Kirk," he introduced himself politely. - I look forward to your help in the upcoming case.

"Hold your horses, detective. First, tell me what the problem is," I didn't like the whole situation with the possessed, even though I enjoyed the investigation and anticipated new knowledge, but our awesome duo was obviously going to be signed up for some murky bullshit.

"You didn't tell them?"

"I didn't have time," Simon said guiltily. - Joker started asking me about the new spells, and I...

"Shit," Tom grumbled, interrupting his companion's sluggish explanation. - To summarize, the demon lord decided to get out into the real world. To do this, his subordinates kidnapped the mayor, who can take the key to the gate. We must if not save the mayor, then at least kill him, so that the key is safe.

"So you're saying there's a gateway to Hell somewhere in Gotham, and the mayor just happens to have the key to it? No, I admit that there could be a dozen or so gateways to another dimension in the city, Gotham's reputation being what it is, but as far as I'm concerned, Senator Moss is an ordinary man. Why the fuck would he have access to something so important?!"

"It's not about tenure. Moss is the son of the previous Custodian. We were sure that with his death the vault became inaccessible because of the many security seals, but the Geo Populus must have found a way around the restrictions."

As they say, oops. So much for the consequences of changing the infofield.

"Why don't we just wait for them at the gate and set a trap? - Harley suggested.

"That's right! A couple of liters of consecrated napalm, burst cartridges, and suppressive seals: even a senior demon would be sad, not to mention the usual possessed."

The man wrinkled his nose.

"If it were that simple, I'd be mining the vault right now, but the past Guardian made sure no one knew exactly where the key and gate were."

"Taboo... I see."

To be honest, I didn't really feel like venturing unprepared into foreign territory. Right! The ancient enchantments weren't so easy to bypass by simply capturing a Guardian relative, so the soap situation had something to do with it.

"I suppose the creation of new possessed should also weaken the seals somehow?"

"There's no reason for it... They just want to cause pain. A lot of pain, celebrating the arrival of their Overlord," Simon interjected, wrapping his arms around his head to keep the pain out of his mind as his eyes glowed with an otherworldly blue light. - The mayor had already handed over the key. The beast with a thousand eyes stands at the Gate. He has one last step left to take.

"Damn it, we gotta stop this! Where are they?! - The detective grabbed the guy by the shoulders and gave him a little shake.

"Pinkerton Mansion," he answered through clenched teeth, and in a moment he was unconscious.