Chronicles of M: Ammit (Book 2)

By Nicholas Forristal

In this sequel to Chronicles of M, Samuel and Thomas race to find a way to purge the demon that resides in M. With the demon in complete control over M, it escapes captivity, leaving Thomas to rely on old acquaintances and new allies to help him hunt down M before he kills again.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nicholas Forristal
• Release date: Jan 4, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301598717

Nicholas Forristal

Born in the 80s during the age of Oregon Trail, Nicholas remembers the days before the internet, when the world was young and herds of dial-up BBS roamed the digital landscape in peace. Nicholas went on to college at Kansas State University and studied psychology. It was here, at the pinnacle of his lowly existence, that he met his future wife. After that, life became dull and work-centric, as adulthood typically does. So now he writes to fight back the madness, while his son plays with his imaginary friends.

Book preview

Chronicles of M:

Ammit

By

Nicholas Forristal

Copyright

The Chronicles of M: Ammit

The Chronicles of M Series

Smashwords Edition

© 2012 Nicholas Forristal

ISBN-13:9781481918992

ISBN-10: 1481918990

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission of the author. Your support of author’s rights is appreciated.

This is a work of fiction. All characters in this compilation are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

More Books by The Author

Chronicles of M series:

CoM: Ammit (Book 2)

CoM: A'loc: (Book 3)

Hitori

CoM: Consequences (Book 4)

Five Man Midget Death Squad

CoM: The Lord War (Book 5)

Short Stories:

Catch and Release

Coming Soon:

Com: The Purge (Book 6)

Contact the Author

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Prologue

How do you plan to expel the demon from M, Mr. Horn? Thomas sits back in his chair, his eyes glance from me to M and back.

I shrug. Honestly, I don’t know, but I’m betting we’ll only get one shot at this. What are we going to do about him? I point at M, who sits, unable to move and glaring at me. We can’t keep him contained like this forever.

No, we can’t. That’s why the agency built a containment room.

Containment room?

A couple years ago I had Research design a room for me that I think will hold M, at least, for a while. I had hoped to never use it, but M has gotten worse over the years and I thought I had better be prepared for the worst.

I nod. All right, where is it?

His bedroom.

Chapter 1 - So Long, Farewell

Commanding M to walk to his bedroom is like instructing a two-year-old to do the same thing. Thomas and M leave the office, but outside the doorway M stops in his tracks. He doesn’t say anything. He simply stands there, his eyes fixed straight ahead, the anger in his face flaring higher and higher like a raging inferno.

Thomas looks at M with concern on his face. I think the demon is trying to resist. Has M ever done that before?

No. Usually he does what I tell him to and that’s it. He might grumble a bit, but he does it.

Maybe the demon found a way to resist your will, or maybe M is losing the battle in there.

We need to hurry then.

Thomas nods. Agreed, follow me.

I motion for Thomas to stop and then look at M. M, you will follow us to your bedroom. You will do nothing except keep up with us. No stopping, talking or anything else. You will keep up with us and when we reach your room you will wait for further instructions. Nod if you understand.

M nods yes, but his eyes scream a murderous no.

Good, let’s go.

Thomas, M and I take off jogging towards the other side of the cafeteria. My fully healed, partially bald leg handles the movements well and only gives me a dull, overused muscle ache, like you feel from running all day. I start heading in the direction of the hall, leading to the housing section, when I realize Thomas is heading in the opposite direction with M keeping pace. I spin on my heels and quickly catch up to them. Thomas leads us down a long, narrow passageway of fluorescent lights that goes for several hundred feet and ends with a single, wooden door. Oddly, it’s the only door in this otherwise empty, plain, white hall. Thomas tries to turn the knob on the door, but it’s locked.

Thomas turns his head towards me. Please?

Sure. I look at M. M, unlock the door.

M digs in the pocket of his khaki shorts and pulls a copper key out. His hand shaking the entire time, M eventually unlocks the door. I look at Thomas, Thomas looks at me.

You open it, Thomas. I’m not going near that door unless I know it’s safe. I’ve had enough unexpected crap happen to me.

No need to worry, there’s no way M has booby-trapped his room, or anything else. I had cameras installed. He looks at M, who is shaking with rage. You honestly didn’t think I’d let you run around without supervision, did you? What do you think I do in my office all day? What do you think surveillance does when you’re topside? Half of the reason I proposed this agency to the government was to have them help me baby-sit you.

M shakes more and more with each comment. Slowly M balls up his hands into fists. Thomas and I glance at each other and then at M. I take several steps back and out of M’s view. Thomas quickly opens the door.

One more time, Mr. Horn. Have him lay on his bed. Thomas points at a twin-sized bed across from the doorway.

M, go lay on your bed and stay there.

M stands still, a low growl echoing in his throat.

Now M, go lay on your bed and stay put! I feel like I’m yelling at a child. In a way, I am. A very violent, erratic, rabid child that could kill me at any second.

M slowly starts walking into his room. Each step is heavy, stiff and forced, like he’s walking into the winds of a hurricane. Seconds feel like days while I watch him walk across the small room. I breathe a sigh of relief when he reaches his bed, but it’s a breath breathed too soon. In a flash, M spins around and sprints back towards us, screaming like a banshee. I don’t know what to do. Even if I wanted to I can’t outrun M, not for long. I definitely can’t fight him; I’d have as much chance as an infant against a professional boxer. So, instead of running for my life, or readying myself to go down fighting, I stand still. I stand in paralyzed fear, like a deer in headlights, waiting to die.

Thomas jumps in front of the doorway and stretches his arm in front of him, pointing at M. Epoom! At least, that’s what it sounded like, in a guttural, raspy, maybe Japanese way.

Something invisible hits M in the gut like a shock wave and throws him across the room. He slams into the wall behind his bed, backside first, with such force that the cinder block crumbles from the impact and plants him into the wall. M slowly picks his head up and looks at us through icy, cold, wicked eyes. The whites of his eyes are completely red from ruptured blood vessels. M grins from ear to ear, baring his teeth.

Thomas keeps his arm extended towards M. All right, M, that’s enough. I’ll destroy you if I must. You know I can.

But you won’t, M says in a high-pitched, wicked, evil voice that sends a shiver down my spine and drains the blood from my body.

M plants his hands and feet against the remaining wall and springs head first at Thomas, extending his body out like a pouncing cat. M never makes it halfway across the room. Thomas speaks another word that sounds less like a word and more like a caveman grunting. A purplish mist flies into M’s face, stopping him in mid-flight, and he falls straight down on to the carpeted floor, unconscious.

Thomas turns to me. Help me put him on the bed. I don’t know how much time we have.

I don’t ask, I just run over, scoop up M’s feet and help Thomas toss him onto the bed. Cinder block dust falls as the bed rocks back and forth.

All right, now what?

Stand in the doorway, I need to set up a field. With a flick of his wrist Thomas moves M and the bed to the center of the room. I’m glad M never wanted furniture now. He looks up at the corner of the room closest to the door. Ready.

In the ceiling, a small opening above M’s bed appears and a long wooden rod lowers down to a foot above the bed. Thomas grabs a copper cylinder at the end of the rod with his left hand and bows his head. From the tip of the rod a swirling disc of blue mist forms, growing and spinning faster with every moment. The disc grows past and through Thomas, extending to the length of the square room.

Above the disc, Thomas makes a spinning motion with the fingers of his right hand, like a DJ on a record. The disc slows more and more with his hands movements, until the only thing moving is the essence of the disc, which swirls and pulsates with unnatural life. Thomas raises his right hand into the air and brings it down hard against the disc. It vibrates in response as the mist shifts into a solid, flat surface, making it look like a giant metallic Frisbee. Thomas strikes the disc again with his right hand and the disc molds around the bed frame, forming a large, transparent blue dome.

Thomas steps back and takes in a deep breath. There, that should work for now.

How long?

Between the sleep spell and the force field, maybe a day. It’s hard to tell. I’ve never trapped a demon before, let alone whatever, he points at M, you call that.

Can’t you do anything else to keep him caged longer?

Yeah, step into the hall and I’ll show you.

Thomas walks outside M’s doorway and feels the wall with his hands. Hmm, where is it...? His fingers run over the mortar of each stone. There we are. He pushes a stone into the wall. A series of loud clanks and hisses blare through the wall.

Thomas yawns. I need a nap, or some coffee.

The floor starts to rumble like an earthquake. I brace myself, not sure what to expect. In the blink of an eye, a large metal wall slides down into the door frame, blocking the entrance.

All that for a metal door?

Steel to be precise, and not a door, a wall. Well, a steel box.

M’s entire room is a steel box?

It is now. Before it was just cinder block. The machine behind this wall, Thomas knocks on it, moves the steel plates into position, boxing the room itself in. From the inside, it only looks like the door is sealed.

Why didn’t you box in the other sides of the room permanently?

I didn’t want M to know about this at all. With his violent tendencies, I was afraid he would punch the wall and find out.

How long will this hold him?

Thomas shrugs. I don’t know if it will. That demon has a lot of power in him and we really don’t know much about any demon, let alone a soul eater.

I look down the hallway and think about running for the elevator. I can’t do it. As much as I’d like to run and pretend all of this isn’t happening, I can’t do it. This thing will eventually escape, tear this entire place apart and then find its way to the surface. No one will be able to stop it then. I have to try, before it’s too late.

Thomas puts his hand on my shoulder. Come on, let’s head back.

I keep pace with Thomas, which isn’t difficult. The spells seem to have worn him down.

All right, what’s the plan? What do I say to send that demon packing?

No idea. What was it the real M said to you in the car?

I think back to earlier today, when I was tied down and forced to witness the lengths this demon would go to so that it could justify murder. It was at the peak of this rampage that the real M managed to speak to me.

He said, ‘You aren’t controlling him, you’re controlling me’. That, and he asked me to end it between him and the demon.

Those were his exact words?

Yes.

Thomas rubs his chin. "Well, if that’s the case, then there’s nothing you can say that will control the demon. So, you’ll have to do it through M, but how?’

Yeah, it’s not as though I can say, ‘Hey, M. I command you to kick the demon out’. If he could do that, he would have already.

I think we need to do some research.

Into what? Brainwashing?

Thomas chuckles, No, not brain washing. I’m going to go look up the spell version of mental suggestion. I want you to talk to Dixie.

Wait a second, spell version? If you can magic that demon out, why don’t you?

What you can do naturally is at least twice as effective as I can do magically, and that’s even if I was proficient with the spell. The most I can do is get you to think about it.

What about those hand markings you told me about? Couldn’t you draw some of those and boost the spell?

The runes? No, those wouldn’t help here, this spell is too complex. The runes only help me produce elemental spells like fire, or water. This spell requires words, memorization and far more energy from me. Even more than that force field over M.

Okay, so why am I talking to Dixie?

Maybe she has some ideas, or maybe in talking to her you’ll come up with something. If you have a better idea, I’m all ears.

I don’t see how talking to Dixie is going to help, but she is a psychologist and that insight could be useful. I should probably say goodbye to her, anyways. She’s a nice kid. Goofy, but nice.

Where is she?

Probably in surveillance. Head that way, I’ll give her a call from my office and send her there, just in case.

I glare at Thomas. Do I need to worry about Stage One zombies, or liquor store hoodlums, or frigging exploding rooms?

Thomas looks at me, clearly not amused. No. They are a little paranoid about strangers though. It’ll be all right, so go and wait in Dixie’s office.

I leave Thomas behind, making my way towards the elevator in the cafeteria. Two weeks ago, I would have laughed in Thomas’s face for saying I have this superhuman ability to control people with mere words. Now, after everything I’ve seen and done, I can believe it without question. The only problem is – does it matter?

Does it matter that I have this ability if I can’t stop the demon that lives in M? If that demon takes over M’s body completely and gets topside, all hell will break loose. So, what do I do? What do I say? I don’t know what I’m going to do about M if I can’t control the demon directly. Even the indirect approach, through the real M, seems to be working less and less, but why? I press the elevator button and the glass doors open with a hiss. I step in and lean against the back wall, preparing myself for a long ride to the first floor.

There are three floors to this agency’s underground headquarters: surveillance, research and everything else. The research floor houses all the labs that the scientists, the coats, use. With no restrictions, regulations or budget restraints, the coats are pretty much free to do as they please, sometimes with disastrous results. My one and only experience with them amounted to an explosion that knocked me on my ass, a slap fight between two geeks and some sort of super healing goo that mended all the damage a couple zombies had caused to my leg a few days before.

Everything else, or EE, is the least used floor, but takes up the most space. EE is a living space made up of housing, a gym, Thomas’s office, a cafeteria and a fantastic park. The park is every bit the equal of its aboveground counterparts, except this one somehow doesn’t require the sun to survive and it also supplies the breathable air for the entire HQ. It’s designed so well that you forget you’re even deep underground.

I haven’t been to the surveillance floor and with the way this place is designed, I don’t know what to think. I half-expect it to look like NASA: a single, open room with a giant screen at the front with rows and rows of desks, each with its own computer. The other half of me remembers that this place is insane and it’s better to go in not expecting anything, except that something, or someone, may try to kill me. That seems to be a theme around here.

The doors of the elevator slide open and I step into an empty, white room with a single wooden door across from me. So far, every door in this place has been locked in some way. So far, any time I’m alone something tries to kill me. I don’t try to open the door. I don’t get near the door. I stay as close to the elevator as I can and throw my wallet at the door. The wallet smacks its center and falls to the ground. Nothing happens.

I look around at the room, expecting there