Imperium (Caulborn) (10 page)

I thanked Mrs. Rita, shrugged into my coat and left the office. I took the T back to Mass General, and ducked into the alleyway Megan and I had visited last night. I tapped the Urisk’s faith in me and summoned a few dozen rats. They rushed up to me, and formed up in rows, like tiny rodent soldiers. I kept my instructions simple. I pictured the shadowy forms and the vine and chain men in my mind. Watch for these. If you see them, send word to me. Pass this on to your brethren.

I snapped my fingers and the rats took off into the night. I knew that I’d done everything I could for the evening, so I took the train back to my neighborhood. I live in Quincy, which is just south of Boston. The train pulled into the last stop on the red line and I walked out into the cold night air. There was a steady flow of traffic and no shortage of lights. Apartments, stores, gas stations, everything almost as bright as day.

The people I passed on the streets kept their eyes on the ground as they walked. Everyone hurried along, minding their own business, not wanting to bother anyone else. So I tried to be as nonchalant as possible when I realized something was following me.

Chapter 8

Begin Coded Transmission
As more and more Urisk witnessed Corinthos’ actions, more and more began to believe that he would save them from the advancing hordes of hobgoblins and trolls. Until the Godling’s arrival, the Urisk had been cowed by the sheer numbers and ferocity of the hordes. Those who resisted were killed slowly and brutally, so that despite their psychic powers, the Urisk lived in fear.
As Corinthos fended off more and more attackers, the Urisk were emboldened and began to fight back. Corinthos organized them into ranks, and built up a small militia of psychic warriors. Years passed, with the hobgoblin and troll war chiefs suffering more and more losses. It is believed that at this point, the Urisk actually began worshipping Corinthos. As his following grew, so too did his power.
-NS
End Coded Transmission

It stayed in the edges of my vision, and when I casually swept the area, whatever it was disappeared. I didn’t change my pace, but I checked that my switchblade was handy and readied the Urisk’s faith in me. I dashed across a street, just making the walk sign. I heard a skittering behind me, but when I turned, I didn’t see anything. The noise stopped too. I let my eyes go out of focus, and just caught a shadow at the edge of my vision again. I didn’t turn. Instead, I lashed out with a blast of telekinetic force.

I hit something. It was short, maybe two and a half feet tall, and weighed about fifty pounds. It lurched as I hit it, and I could make out a shimmering form, like a rippling shadow. I latched onto it telekinetically and pulled it toward me. The thing shrieked and yelled at me in another language. German, maybe? Hearing the high-pitched disembodied voice was unnerving, and I struggled to keep it trapped. Then something caught me in the knees from behind and I collapsed to the ground. I wasn’t about to give whatever had suckered me a chance to move into for the kill, so I sent out a quick telekinetic push in all directions.

I hit both things hard enough to throw them to the ground, but their near invisibility kept me from pinning them down. I heard a retreating series of clicks and the shadows were gone. I groaned and was barely able to push myself up to my feet. The legs of my jeans had been slashed through and blood was running freely. Damn. I limped back up to my apartment. I locked the door and made sure the wards against intruders were active. Anyone who tried to enter the apartment who wasn’t me or Petra would get a nasty surprise.

I leaned against the door and put my hand to my head. My forehead was getting hot already. My leg was tingling and my nose was getting stuffy. That was actually a good sign. I needed to clean up and use the phone before the healing fever really kicked in.

I headed straight into the bathroom. I grabbed a washcloth and scrubbed the blood from my leg. The cut was closing before my eyes. Another three or four minutes and it would be totally scabbed over. I rubbed some salve into the cut anyway and changed into a pair of sweats. I threw the jeans over the back of a chair. I’d sew them later. Yes, I can sew. Then I picked up my cell phone and scrolled to the entry for Uncle Dave.

He picked up on the second ring. “Yello,” came a thick Boston-accented voice.

“Hi Uncle Dave, it’s Vincent.” Uncle Dave was the code name for the Caulborn’s lifeline. If you got jumped in the field, if you were in over your head, or if you weren’t going to be in the office for a while, you contacted Uncle Dave. Then he could notify Galahad and send in the cavalry. If you were out of the office, Uncle Dave called you twice a day, every day, until you got back.

“Vinnie, my boy, how’s my favorite nephew?”

Because we might be calling Uncle Dave from places non-paranormals can overhear, we had to speak in a sort of cant. “Hanging in there. Had an unexpected chat with a couple of strangers.” Translation - Two unidentified creatures attacked me.

“That’s nice. Do you think they’d like to meet some of your friends?” Do you need agent assistance?

“Not now, everyone’s busy tonight. I just got home and wanted to say hi.” No assistance necessary. I’m safe, well, and reporting the incident as required.

“All right, kiddo, if you’re sure. You let me know if you need anything, though. I’ll say hi to Aunt Matilda for you, but you should stop in tomorrow and visit her, okay?” I’ll report the incident to Galahad XI, but give him a full report in the morning.

“I will. Thanks, Uncle Dave,” I said and hung up.

I kicked off my shoes and headed back to the bedroom. I was so tired that I bumped into my dresser as I walked in. My favorite action figure, a limited edition Commander Courageous tumbled off. I snatched him up with my telekinesis, and looked at the green and scarlet costumed figure. On several occasions, an advisor sent by my father had spoken to me through this toy. In fact, he’d recommended how to handle the army that had attacked the Urisk city.

“Any words of wisdom tonight, Commander?” I asked. The Commander looked at me with his confident smile and his, “I’m a hero, dammit,” pose. I set the action figure back on my dresser and crawled into bed.

As I shakily pulled the blankets up over me, I tried to figure out what had attacked me. I racked my brains for anything about two-foot-tall-quasi-invisible-beings, but my brain refused to focus as my body grew hotter. I wasn’t worried. The onset of the fever was comforting.

When I was in sixth grade, my class went to this place called Camp Sargent. We spent a whole week there in February, learned how to cross country ski, what sort of animals were active in the winter, how to make a fire, stuff like that. I’m sure there was more to it, but I spent most of the time in the hospital. The second day we were there, I fell off my skis and broke my leg.

One of my teachers, Mr. MacLeigh, splinted my leg and carried me to the hospital cabin. I don’t remember much about the walk, I just remember getting hot and fading in and out of awareness. I woke up in a bed some time later with my mom and a nurse standing over me, looking worried and confused. I found out later that I’d been unconscious for almost seven hours, and in that time, my leg had completely healed, but I was running a fever of 106. Nothing had been able to bring the fever down, and they’d moved me to one of the local hospitals when the fever had suddenly broken.

That was the first time I’d ever experienced the healing fever. It was one of the perks of being half-god; most physical wounds healed in an extremely short period of time. The downside was I always got a really high fever that knocked me out for several hours and left me feeling like I’d been flushed down a giant toilet.

A few minutes later, the healing fever overwhelmed me and I fell asleep.

***

It felt like I had just closed my eyes when my cell phone played the opening bars of Firefly’s theme song. Gearstripper was calling.

“Sorry to wake you, Vinnie,” he said. “But something’s wrong at Axlesnapper’s. I need you to come over here right away.”

I wanted to ask Gears a series of intelligent questions to determine what was going on. What came out was, “Huh wha?”

Gears’ voice was agitated. “I said I’d help you find Axle, Vinnie, remember? I decided to go over to her place; it’s behind that old gas station near our office, so I had Jake drop me off. When I got there, all her security systems were activated, the door was open, and Vinnie, there’s a corpse there.”

That got my brain in gear. “Is it Axle?”

“I don’t think so, but I didn’t go inside.” He lowered his voice. “I was scared.”

“You did the right thing, Gears. Let me get dressed and I’ll be right there.” My fever was gone and my leg was completely healed. I untangled myself from the sweat-soaked sheets and got dressed. The clock said it was just past 2 a.m.

I slid behind the wheel of my Nissan and headed out of the parking lot. I hated driving, which was why I usually took the train or a cab. But sometimes, you don’t have a choice. I rolled the windows down and let the breeze clear the final cobwebs left over from the healing fever.

I drove to an old gas station a few blocks from Caulborn HQ. I parked the car and found Gears crouched between the pumps. He gave me a nervous smile and led me around to the back and over to a freestanding garage. The bay doors were all closed, but the person-sized door was ajar. A dim green light pulsed around the crack of the door every few seconds.

I looked down at Gears. “You went in through that door?” I asked.

Gears looked back up at me. “Yeah, how’d you think I’d get in?”

“I dunno. I thought you might have a secret entrance, or a cat door you’d sneak through or something.”

Gears looked at me flatly. “A cat door?” I tried to keep a straight face. After a minute he just shook his head at me and pointed at the door.

“That light is a searcher,” he whispered. “It’ll latch onto you and shoot. If it sees you, hide. I helped Axle set up some of the security. I know she can deactivate everything from her computer. I’ll try to get to that.”

“Where’s the body?”

Gears pointed again. “It’s just inside the door.” We went in and Gears clicked the door shut behind us. It was dark inside, and the place smelled of old motor oil. I pulled my flashlight out of my coat pocket, but Gears put a tiny, clawed hand over mine.

“No lights,” he whispered. “Security’s not just swirly lights. Wait here. I’ll go disable the systems.”

“You’re awfully confident. I thought you were scared.”

“I was scared of the body, Vinnie, but you’re here now, so that’s not so scary.” His sharp-toothed grin gleamed in the sliver of light coming in from the door’s window. “And I’m certainly not afraid of machines. Wait here. I’ll turn the lights on when it’s all clear.” He scampered off into the darkness. I stayed crouched next to the door. The roaming green search light spun around the room, illuminating worktables and tool cabinets. I hadn’t known Axlesnapper, but she seemed a good deal neater than Gears. Besides the tables, there were a handful of stools strategically placed between workbenches and tool chests. If Axle was as nimble as Gears, she’d be able to vault back and forth across the shop via the stools.

I could see a small, crumpled form next to one of the worktables. In the passing green light, I couldn’t get a good look at it. I was itching to turn my flashlight on; I wanted to know what we were dealing with here. I heard tiny clicks on the floor next to me. “What’d you forget, Gears?” I whispered. I turned and saw a pair of silver eyes staring back at me. The eyes vanished, and something jumped onto my back.

I did not scream like a little girl. I screamed like a little girl who had something scary jump on her back. I lurched to my feet and staggered forward, slapping at the thing. It flailed wildly and clawed at my shoulders, trying to gain purchase. I turned and slammed the thing into one of the tool chests lining the wall. I heard a snapping and a grunt of pain, followed by a curse in what sounded like German.

I twisted and spun, and finally managed to get a grip on my assailant. I threw it to the floor and knelt atop it, trying to keep it from fleeing. In the pool of green light I saw its gleaming eyes and dark, leathery skin. It could’ve been Gearstripper’s big brother. Same big ears, same teeth. But this gremlin was a foot taller and about twenty pounds heavier.

Wait. Green light?

A gun began firing. The rounds were small caliber, but that could still kill me. I rolled hard to the side and the light moved with me. I tapped the Urisk’s faith and created a wall of telekinetic force. The gray gremlin took off in the other direction. I strained as the bullets bounced off of my makeshift shield. Deflecting a single bullet was one thing, but this was a concentrated stream. I could feel my powers weakening; I needed to replenish my faith reserves soon. Assuming I lived that long.

There was a brief pause in the gunfire, and I figured that Axle’s security needed to reload. But knowing gremlins like I did, she’d probably rigged up thousands of rounds. So I dropped my shield and glared really hard at the green spotlight.

Urisk are highly psychic creatures. They can perform telepathy and telekinesis with ease. But a few rare Urisk are also gifted with pyrokinetic talents. Humans would call them firestarters. And luckily, I count some of those firestarters among my followers. I sent a sphere of blue flame about the size of a golf ball surging forward. It struck the light with a violent pop, the green light vanished, and sparks rained down from the ceiling.

I pulled out my flashlight and rubbed grit from my eyes. Adrenaline was keeping me going right now. I swept my beam across the garage. “Gears?” I caught movement at the far corner of the garage. I cautiously picked my way over and found the larger gremlin holding Gears up by the throat. They were standing in front of a computer desk, a monitor with a Star Trek screensaver flashing images of Captain James T. Kirk in the background.

Gears’ tiny claws raked at the thing’s arm, but it didn’t look like it even felt the slashes. And Gearstripper’s claws are as sharp as razors. It sneered at him. “
Ünterlegen
,” it spat. It turned to me and pointed. Then it rattled off a few sentences in German.