Courageous Page 15

  Petra gave an appreciative smile as she glanced around. “Much better. Thank you.” She took a few minutes to pull together a plate of nachos, and we ate in silence, just enjoying the quiet company. “Okay,” I said as I wiped my mouth with a napkin. “Let’s head down to the medical bay.”

  Petra frowned at me. “I thought Mrs. Rita didn’t want Megan disturbed right now.”

  I shook my head. “There’s no more time. We need to see if Megan can contact Dublin,” I said. “They won’t listen to me, but they might listen to her. She can let them know that the Boston office has been compromised. I’d love the help of two or three squads of inquisitors right about now.”

  We found Megan sitting cross-legged on a bed. “Please tell me you can get me out of here,” she said. “I’ve been poked and prodded so many times in the last hour that I’m starting to feel like a pincushion.”

  I put up my hands. “Megan, Mrs. Rita is one of the few people I will not mess with,” I said.

  “And in that, you show wisdom, Vincent,” Mrs. Rita said, rounding a corner.

  “That said,” I replied, “I was hoping now that Megan’s back to her old self, she could try contacting Dublin to let them know what’s been going on.”

  “That would be fine,” Mrs. Rita said. “I have gathered everything I need.”

  “Great,” Megan said, practically leaping from the bed. She covered way more distance than I would’ve thought possible; her undead strength had kicked in. “Can we use the big computer out front?”

  I nodded, and Megan’s shoulders relaxed visibly once we left the medical bay.

  “Are you all right?” Petra asked.

  “Petra, in the few months I’ve been part of the Boston office, I have spent more time in medical bays than I have in my entire career. I’ve been drugged, compelled, cut, kidnapped, and waylaid, and every time, I wind up back in a hospital bed. I’m starting to get a complex about those kinds of places.”

  We got to Alexis’s main terminal, where Gears had again jacked himself in. I tapped him on the shoulder and explained what we wanted to do. “Go for it, Vinnie,” he replied. “I think we might have cracked this new code that Dublin is using. You can use the communication channels while I keep working. It won’t interfere.”

  “Alexis,” I said, “contact the Caulborn communications network. Patch me through to the Care Taker’s office.”

  “Acknowledged.”

  There was a brief pause as Alexis made the connection, and then a very surprised Care Taker appeared on the screen. “Who is this? How did you access this line?” The Care Taker spoke with a thick Irish accent, and his gray hair had faint streaks of red in it. I’m sure the lines in his face weren’t due solely to his advanced age, but the set of his jaw and the intensity in his eyes made it easy to see why this man was the leader of the Caulborn. He took no shit from anyone or anything, regardless of if they were paranormal or mundane.

  “Agent ID 0741978, Megan Hayes of the Boston office, sir,” Megan said, taking a step closer to the screen. “Sir, Boston’s been—”

  The Care Taker’s expression softened immediately. “Ah, Agent Hayes, how are you feeling? I understand you’ve only recently come off of light duty. Galahad spoke very highly of you, and I’d hate to think you were overdoing it.”

  Megan seemed confused. “I’m fine, sir,” she said, and I couldn’t help but wince at her choice of words. “Sir, as I was saying, Boston’s been compromised. Inquisitor Xavier was murdered and raised as an undead. Treggen is compelling him to provide false information to you.”

  The Care Taker’s eyes widened. “Is that so? Well, I’ll need to have some people look into that. Where did you say you were, again, Agent Hayes?”

  “I didn’t, sir,” Megan said, and her voice began to edge toward her diplomat’s persona. “I have recently escaped from Treggen and am in hiding with a few other agents.”

  “Who else is with you?” the Care Taker asked.

  “Why can’t he see us?” I whispered to Gearstripper.

  “Because I’m scrambling part of the signal,” Gears whispered back. “Something isn’t right here. The Care Taker’s office is trying to track this call, which isn’t surprising, but they’re also sending out an encrypted message to all operatives in the New England area. Hold on.” Gears’s eyes filled with static. “Okay, I’ve just decoded the message. It says that you, me, and Jake have gone rogue. It also says that Megan is suspected of colluding with us, and is to be apprehended into Caulborn custody as soon as possible.” Gears paused. “Vinnie, they know she’s undead.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know, but there’s a ton of chatter on the line from technicians trying to get a lock on our signal, and there are side messages circulating with photos of you, me, and Megan, along with summaries of our abilities and talents.”

  “Shit,” I whispered. “We’re in trouble.” I looked back at the image of the Care Taker onscreen. He and Megan had continued their conversation while Gears and I spoke.

  “We will of course take this very seriously, Agent Hayes,” the Care Taker said. “Uncle Dave’s your regional lifeline, isn’t he? Why don’t you radio your coordinates to him, and we’ll send a detail to pick you up.”

  “Sir, I’d much rather you focus your efforts on Treggen. The Boston office—”

  “Will be just fine, dearie, just fine. I’ll send my best Inquisitors out there straight away. Squad Fifteen’ll see things are taken care of.”

  Megan’s voice had gone so calm that it reminded me of how Galahad sounded when he was doing everything he could to keep his temper in check. “Sir, Squad Fifteen was wiped out fighting weresharks four days ago.”

  “Did I say ‘fifteen’? Gracious me, my mouth isn’t saying the words my mind’s intending. I meant Squad Fifty.”

  “Which is currently dealing with a troglodyte incursion in New Zealand,” Megan replied. “And is not expected to be back for another five to seven days.”

  “My, you’re up on the intel, aren’t you?” The Care Taker dropped all pretense of civility at that point. “Listen up, Hayes, Boston is bad news. Always has been. I never should’ve let myself get talked into letting a non-Caulborn operative run the place. Since then, all manner of sloppiness has happened. And you’ve thrown in with them. Xavier tells me that your undeath powers have manifested, you’ve killed at least one of his agents, and another is missing. I’m sending teams of people to find you now.”

  He leaned forward in his chair, his eyes becoming harder. “And if Corinthos is with you, you tell that little pissant that I don’t care who his daddy is. When we find him, we’re going to lock him in the darkest hole we have.”

  Cracks appeared in Megan’s diplomat mask. Her hands were clenched into fists, and she was shaking. Her voice, though, was that same icy calm that I’d heard the boss use so many times. “Well then, sir, understand that we do not wish to take any action against the organization. But if anyone comes after me, I will defend myself, as will Vincent and the rest of us. But don’t do this, please. You are being misled, Xavier is being—”

  “Inquisitor Xavier is immune to all forms of compulsion, you twit. All Caulborn are. He gave me his status report today, and it was as plain as the nose on my face that he was alive and breathing, not some undead monstrosity like you’re claiming. In all likelihood, your transformation into an undead, which you didn’t deny, so I’m inclined to believe, has corrupted you. We feared this might happen, so when you are found, Ms. Hayes, you will be staked as a mercy.”

  Megan’s eyes shifted, becoming black orbs with red pupils. “I would strongly caution you against that course of action. Sir.” Megan calmly folded her hands in front of her. “I don’t believe this conversation is useful anymore. Agent 0741978 out.” Megan pinched the bridge of her nose as Alexis’s screen went dark. A
fter a moment, she let out a breath, and her eyes returned to their normal ice blue. “That didn’t go well.”

  “Better than it would have if we’d been on Earth,” Gears said. “There were so many encrypted communications going back and forth during that call that it might’ve made my head spin. They were trying like crazy to pinpoint us, and it sounds like there are teams in Boston ready to deploy once that happens.”

  “Christ,” I muttered. “Well, so much for help from the agency.”

  Megan was shaking her head. “After everything we’ve done, after all the people we’ve helped, the disasters we’ve prevented, they really think we’ve gone rogue. And threatening to stake me? That’s just unnecessary.”

  “Evidently, Xavier’s word carries that much weight,” I said. “We’ll figure a way out of this, Meg. We always do. And on the plus side, they can’t touch us while we’re here.”

  “That’s true,” she said. “But we can’t hide on Olympus forever. We need to find Treggen.”

  “We’re already working on that,” I said. I filled her in on the plan to use Xavier’s hand to perform a necromantic trace, and then turned back to the massive screen in front of me. “Alexis, patch me through to Brymstone’s lab.” A chime told me the connection had been opened, and a video feed into the lab appeared. “How we doing, Herb?”

  Herb stood over a bowl, stirring its glowing orange contents with a silver spoon. “This is just about ready. Dad’s tuning the spell,” Herb said, nodding to where Albert was scratching some arcane letters into Xavier’s hand with a stylus.

  “Done,” Albert said, dropping the hand into the bowl. “All right, Herbert. You should be able to get a lock on him now.”

  “All right,” the necromancer replied. “Just give the word, and we can begin the tracking process.”

  “Consider the word given,” I said. “Do you know how long it will take once you start?”

  “Tough to say. We’re in another dimension from where Treggen is, so that may impact this.”

  “Should we go back to Boston?” Megan asked.

  “I’d rather not if we can help it,” I said. “If the Care Taker really has deployed other Caulborn operatives in the city, I don’t want to go back there until we absolutely have to. Treggen’s assholes are bad enough. I don’t want to have to fight our own people.”

  “They aren’t our people anymore,” Megan said, her voice getting a bit of an icy edge to it. “I understand the Care Taker is acting on inaccurate information, but to not even consider our words makes me sick.” Megan’s jaw was clenched, and I had a good idea why. It was more than just being unjustly hunted. Megan’s life ambition was to be Care Taker herself. To lead the Caulborn and form alliances and peaceful relations with all manners of beings, whether they were human, paranormal, or extraterrestrial.

  The Care Taker’s complete asshole reaction toward her transformation had understandably pissed her off. Being told that she would be staked on sight by the man whose job she wished to have undoubtedly was doing bad things to her.

  I placed a hand lightly on her shoulder. “We’ll make this right, Megan.”

  She gave me a weak grin. “I know. We always do. In the meantime, I’m going to see if there’s anything I can do to help Herb.”

  “Cool, I’ll be down in a few minutes, too.”

  Megan nodded at me and left, and I glanced at Gears, who was still sitting atop Alexis’s keyboard, still jacked in via his USB finger. “I’m going to go check on Cynthia and Jake,” I told him. “Do me a favor and keep an ear on the Caulborn communications, will you?”

  “What do you think I’m doing, Vinnie?”

  “Leveling your paladin in World of Warcraft.”

  Gears pffd. “Okay, well, yeah, I’m doing that, too, but I’m tuned into the comm network as well.”

  “Hey, any chance we can get anything from Uncle Dave?”

  “Dave’s lines are being monitored,” Gears said. “Even the old ones from back in the sixties. I’ll say this for the agency, they’re thorough.”

  “Keep me posted,” I said and went up to the workshop. Cynthia was sitting much as I’d left her, her head bowed, her hair a silvery curtain covering her face. “Cynthia?”

  “Hello, Vincent,” she said, without raising her head. “I had a visitor earlier. Psyke said that I am expected to make a full recovery. She also told me that she took the evil presence from me and stored it in a bit of metal from my body.”

  “Yes, she gave it to me.”

  “I can sense it,” she said. “It is calling to me right now. It wants to be reunited with me; it thinks we can do great things together.”

  “Is that a good idea?” I asked.

  “Absolutely not,” she replied. “Great things are not always good things, as someone such as yourself should know. I have no desire to join with that force again.” She raised her head then, and I could see that she’d been crying. “Psyke told me this emotion is normal, that it is a typical aftereffect of combat. I am experiencing a rush of feelings, pain, regret, and even some excitement.”

  “She’s right. That’s normal after a fight,” I said. “And after an ordeal such as what you’ve had.”

  “I do not like this, Vincent Corinthos. I do not want more combat or violence in my life.” She tilted her head at me then. “Did you ever read the Chronicles of Narnia?”

  “One or two of them,” I said.

  “Aslan the lion made Narnia as a place to go where men could be happy. And in the end, he had to create a different space for them, where they could be without pain or suffering. I wish to go to a place such as that. A place where I do not need to fight. A place where I can help, rather than hurt. Do you know of such a place?”

  “I don’t think any one place is completely free of violence and hurt, Cynthia,” I said. “Even when I was a god on the Bright Side, and did everything I could to keep the Urisk from suffering, bad things still happened.” I took a seat next to her on the bed. “There’s no way to make a world completely free of pain and suffering. But I think if you can leave each situation you face a little better than how you found it, you’ve done well.”

  Cynthia sighed and lowered her face again. “I believe I have more reflection to do. But in the meantime, the Breath of Life is complete, Vincent Corinthos.” She held up a silver sphere about the size of a billiard ball, which I accepted. “I am tired now. You can give this to Jacob, but I need to rest.” And without another word, she curled up into a ball on the bed and went still.

  I took the Breath of Life from Cynthia and moved over to the table where Jake was stretched out. “All right, big man,” I said, bursting the sphere under his nose like smelling salts, “wake up and smell the coffee.” Electric blue wisps of smoke floated up Jake’s nose, and the security guard’s eyes snapped open. Jake sat up and looked around, confusion plain on his face. “Alexis,” I called, “I need a Gizmatronic Telepathy Helmet.”

  “A telepathy helmet is located on the third shelf of the fourth cabinet on your right,” Alexis’s disembodied voice replied.

  “Thank you,” I said, retrieving the item and handing it to Jake. The big man gave me a weary look, as if to say, “Really?” He’d once referred to this helmet as a cybernetic dunce cap, and he wasn’t far off. It was about eleven inches high, conical in shape, and had a series of cords spiraling around it.

  With a sigh, he put it on. I hate this thing.

  “I’m sorry, Jake, but it’s the only way we can communicate without you having to write everything down.” I spent a few minutes catching him up. “Listen, Jake, I had a conversation with Psyke a little while ago. She wanted to know if Cynthia was imbued with any weaponized enchantments when she was made.”

  Jake’s brow furrowed. No, if she had been, she might have been able to fight off the nirrin that attacked t
he church that night. Or she could’ve held off Carmilla’s forces the other day.

  “Hmm. So much for that theory then.”

  Though now that you mention it, some of the artifacts that were used in her creation had to be disimbued first. I seem to recall at least one of the items, a short sword, if I remember right, had some particularly nasty enchantments on it that needed to be removed.

  My mouth went dry. “What did it look like?”

  Jake closed his eyes and held his hands about a foot and a half apart. It was about this long. His brow furrowed as he dredged up a description from nearly two hundred years ago. It was shaped something like a crucifix with flared points. Extremely sharp. I remember one of the Reverend’s men nearly lost a finger when it slipped in his grip.

  The reverend in question, a man named Spear, had been influenced by an extradimensional being he knew as the Electrizer. The Electrizer had helped Spear design Cynthia, and provided him with the tools and techniques to give her life.

  “Do you remember what it did? The enchantments on it, I mean.”

  Nothing springs to mind. I remember Reverend Spear using some of the Electrizer’s science to purge the enchantments, and that particular one caused them a good deal of trouble. It took them several tries before they finally dispelled whatever the blade had been imbued with.

  “Are you sure it was dispelled?”

  Jake gave me a quizzical look. I had no reason to believe otherwise, but I am not an artificer, Vincent. Why do you ask?

  “Was this the sword?” I pulled the Rosario from my back pocket, still in its switchblade form. Jake started to smile, as if I were playing a joke on him, but I willed the weapon to shift to the short sword form I’d found it in when I’d retrieved it from the Museum of Science.