Prophecy: Tome of Magic

6. Wrath

Monica was a survivor; she always had been. That was how she knew for certain that she would make it out alive, on top, even though things were not looking well for her. Despite the fact that Andreegys had refused to ally with her, she still had a few tricks left to play, but before she pulled the trigger on anything she needed to do a little leg work. Before, it would've been her underlings that took on surveillance duty-Larry or Stephanie-but she was at the bottom now, and she had to do it herself. Yet she didn't complain too much as she followed Andreeygs from the shadows, watched him as he left his lair and departed into the outskirts of the city. She wasn't sure what he was up to, but she understood that knowing what he was planning would be pivotal to her and her survival.

"I don't understand," Liam called as he trailed his new master, "I thought you said you were going to wait until he came back to you."

"I am without doubt that Byrenion will return to me-the call of a god won't be ignored much longer, even with the impure vessel he's in. But I am out of patience, have I not waited long enough already?" The immortal looked at him as they came to a stop, standing in the center of the ominous scene. The sun had just gone down, and night was upon them, bathing the cemetery in a dark shadow as a light fog rolled along the ground. It had been weeks now since he'd last spoken to Byrenion, and that was all the time he cared to waste.

"Okay, that's great, bud, but what the hell are we doing here?" The cyborg wondered, echoing the same curiosity that Monica had while she hid out of sight, invisible as she used her Karthix ability.

"We're here to expedite his return. He is torn, that much I can see, and all he needs is a small push in the right direction. He won't be able to hide himself away when I am burning this city to the ground. I want to raise a little hell." Andreegys held out his hand, a thousand transparent wisps emanating out of it and whizzing from his palm. They flew around him in a whirlwind, kicking up the fog before darting out and embedding themselves in the ground. Together with Liam-and even Monica who remained unseen-they watched as the first hand erupted from the cold earth, and the old god's undead army began to rise.

Coincidentally, the things he raised were not the only living dead in town, and over at Cliff's apartment, Percy hovered around the space-just as dead as she'd always been. She glanced over at the former cop who sat almost perfectly still in his chair, watching TV with that same vacant expression. None of the jokes made him laugh, and none of the drama made him cry, and she wasn't sure what the point was of her being there. Nina had been stuck with patrol duty, and she had been concerned about leaving Cliff alone, believing that he'd had a particularly rough day, so she'd practically begged the ghost to babysit him.

"You could at least put some pants on, considering you have a guest over. A female guest." Percy scolded, observing the entirety of his body and being grateful that he was at least wearing underwear.

"You're not a girl, you're a ghost." He replied, not bothering to even look at her. "It's my place, at the end of the day I want to relax the way I want to-feel free to leave if you don't like it, there's the door. I'd say don't let it hit you in the ass on the way out, but you're, you know. It's not like I asked you to come over anyway, you're not exactly the most pleasant company."

"I could possess you, you do know that, right? Keep on and I'll just hop right in your body and do whatever I want to you, so quit being a dick. Speaking of which, I can see yours through those boxers, you know." She smirked, watching as he opened another can of beer. She had lost count of how many he'd drank in just the short time she'd been with him. "Really? Never mind the moral implications of drinking that much-like, seriously, even I'm judging you and that's saying something-but your liver is probably shriveled up by now."