Serpent's Tooth. James Axler

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      THERE WAS A GRIM SILENCE when Fargo finally joined Kane, Lakesh and the others in the mat-trans chamber. Obviously, Lakesh had spoken of their conversation. Domi’s eyes had a particularly demonic aspect to them, the blood-colored jewels glaring at Fargo as if lit from behind by the fires of hell. The archaeologist winced, looking to the others, whose quiet demeanors held more than just impatience. He looked down to the floor of the chamber, spotting a small pyramid-shaped device.

      “That’s the interphaser?” he asked, hoping to change the subject.

      “Yeah,” Grant spoke up. “Go ahead and pick it up.”

      Fargo heard the unstated threat in the giant Magistrate’s words, and wisely kept his distance from the pyramid.

      “Dumb enough to talk shit about me,” Domi spoke up. “Smart enough not to commit suicide…more or less.”

      “Enough,” Kane interrupted. “We’ve got work to do. Brigid, fire her up.”

      Brigid input the coordinates, and the mistlike appearance of plasma waves surrounded the six travelers and the interphaser.

      Fargo winced as the mat-trans chamber blurred from view. As reality opened around them, Fargo felt a momentary jarring, as if he were unplugged from the Earth. The reality of the situation wasn’t much different from his initial perception. His body, and those of the others, were shunted through a wormhole and hurled across the planet at the speed of thought. The transit felt as if it lasted minutes for the millennialist, and when his senses returned to normal, he was in a darkened, cavernous temple.

      He recognized the markings on the floor, despite the cracks and wear of antiquity. They were in northern India, and he didn’t doubt that they were near the countryside where he’d encountered the murderous Nagah squadron. He remained still and glanced at the others, who were obviously accustomed to the disorientation of matter transfer.

      “A temple?” Fargo asked.

      “Many of the ancient peoples knew that there were places of power favorable to communicating with their gods,” Brigid said. “Those areas were actually parallax points, convergences of magnetic lines of force that allowed access to other dimensions.”

      “Like Ley lines?” Fargo asked. “So where they cross, the fabric of reality is thin enough to open a wormhole?”

      “Right,” Lakesh confirmed. “The interphaser is programmed with remote access points.”

      “The little pyramid is useless otherwise?” Fargo asked.

      Lakesh shrugged. “A good magician never gives away his secrets. You’ll have to pry the secrets out of my skull.”

      “Don’t tempt him, Moe,” Domi cut him off. “Who knows who this bastard’s shacked up with.”

      Lakesh nodded at Domi’s warning, causing Fargo to exhale an exhausted sigh. “What do I have to do to get you assholes to trust me?”

      “Die taking a bullet for one of us,” Grant suggested.

      “Or how about you quit calling us assholes?” Brigid added.

      Kane returned from a perimeter sweep of the temple, and Fargo glanced at him for support. “They never let anything go, do they?”