Nightfall: Caulborn 5 Read online

  Now, I’m sure that the vamp had planned for some panicked moment when I’d hurl myself into the river to save Megan and whoever was in the second cage, during which time his fish chicks here would dive in after and drown me. Or worse. My plan, though, involved creating portals beneath the cages. All I needed was for the cages to be released so they could fall through to safety.

  Two green circles of energy sizzled into existence beneath each of the cages, their exit points behind us on the river’s bank. The dull crunch they made as they hit the wooden walkways made the fish people jump. I smiled at the vamp I held pinned.

  “Thank you for your cooperation,” I said. “Now then, it’s time to start talking.”

  He glowered at me, then turned into mist. I held my breath and backpedaled, not wanting a repeat of earlier. The cloud of mist surged toward Gearstripper’s mech, and seemed confused when it was unable to penetrate into him. While that happened, the two fish people, rusalka, if my guess was right, lunged at me. I created a portal right in front of one of them, dropping her onto the gangplank leading up to the ship. There was a crack and a snap, and my earlier suspicions were confirmed when the gangplank folded up on itself like a box, then fell into the depths.

  The other rusalka slid under the portal, taking my legs out from under me. We collapsed in a heap onto the deck, the rusalka’s long fingers seeking my throat. The rusalka managed to get on top of me, her cold and clammy grip tightening around my neck. I created a portal beneath me and put the exit ten feet above the deck. As we fell, I twisted in the air so I landed on top of her. There was a crunching sound, and the rusalka screamed in pain. “Vinnie,” Gears called, still in a miasma of vampire mist. “Throw her over the side!” He pointed to one side of the boat. I created another portal and kicked the rusalka square in the stomach, driving her back and through. She fell into the water with an audible splash, and then a moment later, there was a whoomp, and a column of water forty feet high shot into the air, carrying the rusalka with it. She didn’t surface again after she hit the water.

  “What was that?” I called out.

  “Thermofusion depth charge,” Gears called back. “Neat, huh?” Steam hung in the air, and I struggled to discern it from the vampire mist. “Um, Vinnie?” Gears said.

  I turned and saw ten undead pulling themselves over the side of the boat. “What the hell?”

  “Aquatic zombies?” Gears asked.

  With the mech’s shoulder LEDs, I had no trouble making out the gray flesh and heads of scraggly hair that were dripping water on the deck. The undead wore ragged sailors’ clothes, and their eyes were nothing but dark holes in their faces. I recognized them. “Not zombies,” I said. “This is the crew of the Charles Haskell.” The Charles Haskell was a fishing vessel that was built back in 1869, and was cursed from the get go. During the final inspection to see if she was seaworthy, one of the workers slipped on a companionway and broke his neck.

  That was a bad omen, and it took a bunch of convincing to get the crew on the boat. I’m sure the captain hoped that the Haskell would have a bunch of easy days after that to calm the crew’s minds, but while she was at sea one night, a crew of phantoms came aboard the boat and began working the boat as though it was their own. The captain of the ship put back into port as soon as he could after that, and the ship was never sailed again. Some people think the ship was destroyed in dry dock, others say it was stolen, but once it docked that last time, it vanished. Since then, the ghost of the ship itself is still seen from time to time, solidifying out of mist, the phantom crew still working to haul in cod.

  One of my first missions when I’d joined the Caulborn had been to help dispel the ship and its crew after they’d tried to take over another fishing vessel. “This doesn’t seem right,” I said. “I’ve never heard of the crew of the Haskell taking a ship this far inland. These guys should be out in Gloucester.”

  “Okay,” Gears said. “Do you think we can reason with them?” One of the sailors grabbed Billy-Mech by the lapels and threw him against the wall. A loud bong sounded as the mech collided with the metal of the ship.

  “Oh, that is it,” Gears snapped. “Back, forward, low kick!” The mech shot up from its crumpled position, zipping across the deck and leaving a spectral afterimage behind it before delivering a perfect kick to the undead’s head. The sailor was launched over the railing and hit the water with a splash. “Low punch plus block!” Gears called again, and the mech dropped in a split and punched another undead right in the crotch. I winced.

  “Hold low kick,” Gears said. “One Mississippi, two Mississippi.”

  I Opened a portal in the deck below one of the undead that was approaching and dropped him over the side of the boat.

  “Three Mississippi,” I heard Gears say.

  One of the sailors lunged for me, a long knife in its hand. I twisted away from it, Opening a portal to my left and putting the exit just behind the undead. I popped out on his other side and snapped out my switchblade, driving the blade squarely between his shoulder blades. The undead stumbled, but didn’t fall.

  “Four Mississippi.”

  Another one rushed at me. I spun, yanking my switchblade from the first undead and bringing it up in time to deflect a strike from this new one. They were starting to press in around me.

  “Five!” Gears called. With a lurch, the mech launched itself off the ground, flying impossibly as if on an invisible wire. Billy’s feet were a flurry of kicks that battered the undead away from me, flinging them back as if they were made of straw. The mech landed and gave a dramatic kung fu pose.

  One of the undead got a grip on me and pulled me close. White pinpricks glowed in the centers of its eyes. That wasn’t right. The crew of the Haskell had pure black eyes. I pushed it back and created a portal beneath its feet, dropping it over the side of the boat.

  “They’re being compelled,” I called. “Gears, where’d that vampire go?”

  Billy spun around, his eyes shifting through who knew how many spectrums of light. “Up there, Vinnie!” he cried, pointing at a spot just above the ship’s bridge. Indeed, there, just a misty humanoid outline, was the vampire. I portaled up to him, the Olympian steel of my switchblade flashing out and through his incorporeal form. There was a spray of blood, and he screamed as he turned solid again and fell to the deck. Not for the first time, I was grateful for this particular birthday gift from Uncle Heph. I cocked my head to one side as a song worked its way, unbidden into my mind. A drinking song.

  Sung by kobolds.

  The vamp hit the deck with a thud, his sunglasses clattering from his face and onto the deck as he scrambled to his feet. I portaled right behind him and stabbed him in the kidney. A hand closed on my shoulder and an undead sailor spun me toward him, cutlass up as if to deliver a fatal overhand slash.

  “Get over here!” a hollow voice roared from behind me. The point of a spear burst through the undead sailor’s chest and then it was being hauled back. The spear was tethered to a cable emerging from Billy’s other palm.

  “As I was saying,” I said to the vamp. “You have some questions to answer.”

  “I do not answer to you, Corinthos.”

  “You have me at a disadvantage,” I said, shaking him. “Who are you?” Behind me, Billy slid across the deck of the ship as if it were made of ice and kicked two more of the undead off the boat. This vamp must’ve been amazingly strong to hold his compulsion on the crew of the Haskell while speaking to me.

  The vamp looked at me, his eyes nothing but milky white orbs. I punched him in the face before he could try to compel me. Not that it would work, all Caulborn are immune to mental domination, but still, it was the principle of the thing. He grabbed me by the arms, no doubt intending to use his strength to just snap my bones.

  But that drinking song I’d just heard had been a prayer of thanks, and t
hat gave me a tiny amount of kobold faith, just enough to conjure holy light. The vampire screamed as his flesh sizzled and smoked.

  “Let’s try this again,” I said, seizing him by the collar. My holy light was pulsing along my arms, and the vamp knew that if he moved, he’d be turned into a pile of ash. “Who sent you?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough,” he said with a hoarse laugh. I spun him around, so his back was to the ship’s bridge.

  “I am running out of—”

  There was a clicking noise, and a harpoon shot through the vampire’s back and exploded out his chest, the point coming to within an inch of my own. The vamp chuckled one final time and collapsed into a pile of dust. “What the hell?” I asked.

  “Looks like he had a remote control rigged up,” Gears said, bending down to pick up the key fob I’d seen the vamp use earlier. “He probably would’ve used it on you, if you’d given him a chance.”

  “Let’s get to Megan and make sure she’s all right.” In truth, I knew Megan was all right. If Megan was anything other than “fine,” I’d be on a one-way trip to Tartarus right now. We found her in one of the cages, breathing but unconscious. I Opened the lock and tried to rouse her, but she was out like a light. Gears’s LEDs showed a young girl in the other cage, maybe fourteen. She was dressed in a white T-shirt and blue jeans, and she wasn’t wearing any shoes. Her ragged black hair looked unwashed, and her skin too pale. Her breathing was shallow, but I didn’t see any obvious injuries on her. I was out of kobold faith, having used my last bit to conjure that holy light.

  “You have any medical scanners on that thing, Gears?”

  “Not really,” he replied. “But I can see that their body temperatures are dropping. It’s cold out here, and this girl isn’t exactly dressed for winter in Boston. We should get her back to HQ before she contracts hypothermia.”

  “My thoughts exactly.” I touched my earpiece. “Uncle Dave, Gears and I have recovered Megan and another guest. We’re bringing them both to HQ. Ask Galahad to have Jake standing by in Medical.”

  I created a portal and picked Megan up. Gears slung the girl over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry, and together, we stepped from the boathouse to the alley behind HQ. As we walked, I couldn’t help but ask, “So about your fighting techniques back there. Do you have all the Mortal Kombat characters’ moves programmed in?”

  “No,” Gears said sadly. “Just the core characters from the first two games. And even then, I only have a couple of moves from each of them. Rigging up a holographic projection to display Billy’s afterimage during a Shadow Kick took a lot more work than I was expecting, and it chews up power really fast. I’ll need to upgrade the power cells if I want to do any serious combos.”

  As we rounded the corner, I was grateful for the enchantment that veils our office building; the sight of two men carrying two unconscious women into a building at night would definitely raise some awkward questions. We got through the front door and into Medical. I laid Megan down on one of the tables in an empty exam room, and Gears did the same with the girl. Galahad was waiting for us when we got out, Leslie, his secretary, just behind him.

  “What happened?” the boss asked. I gave him the short version, and he nodded. “Mrs. Rita will be here shortly. Leslie, I need to take Vincent and—who’s this?” He gestured to the Billy-Mech, as if just noticing it for the first time.

  In response, the mech hiked up its shirt, and the chest cavity popped open, revealing Gearstripper. The gremlin beamed at Galahad as he waved from his command console, a chunk of Hershey bar in his free hand. “Hi, Galahad,” he called.

  The corners of Galahad’s mouth tugged up. “Just when I think I’ve seen it all,” he said. He turned back to me. “Both of you come upstairs with me. Leslie, please stay here, keep an eye on the patients, and alert me when Mrs. Rita arrives.” He turned his haggard gaze around the room. “Every sick bed we have is filled now,” he said, almost to himself. “This is a dark day.” He gave himself a shake. “Come,” he turned and headed toward the door. “We have work to do.”

  Chapter 4

  It was a good thing they decided to flood the town of Dana to create a reservoir. That much water allowed us to submerge the body of the demon Belzatha safely and prevent her spirit from being able to return to her body. I’m sure she’ll splutter in the Pit for a few hundred years, but she’ll get over it. It’ll take a while for the body to degrade, but as best as I can tell, it’s useless as an inhabitable vessel now.

  — From a report dated June, 1938, from Boston Caulborn operative Shannon O’Reilly

  A few minutes later, Galahad, Gears, and I were in the main conference room. Gears had parked his mech in his shop and was now sitting on the edge of the table, munching on a pack of Twinkies. Galahad pulled a keyboard toward him and began tapping out commands. A moment later, the TV on the far wall came to life, the Caulborn logo displayed prominently.

  Words scrolled down the screen in green text, and then finally the phrase, “Code 41 Cypher Active.”

  Gears blinked. “Code 41? Whoa, we’re about to hear something heavy.”

  Code 41 is only used by the Codex and the Care Taker, and it’s so encrypted that it took Gearstripper nearly two days to crack just a single phrase from one of its transmissions. A moment later, the image of a woman in her late fifties, maybe early sixties, appeared onscreen. She wore a purple turtleneck and had a silver chain looped around her neck, with matching silver earrings. Her white hair was cropped and parted on the side, and while the wrinkles on her face indicated laugh lines, there was no humor in her expression now.

  “This is the Codex, secret keeper for the Caulborn,” Galahad said. “Codex, I believe you know Gearstripper.” The gremlin gave a friendly smile and waved. “And this is Vincent Corinthos.”

  “A pleasure,” she said. Her accent wasn’t what I’d expect from Dublin. The Codex sounded like she was from the Midwest. Not a twangy Midwest, just that odd, non-accent that you find in the central states. “It’s been a long time since we’ve spoken, Galahad. I wish the circumstances were better.”

  “Several of my operatives have been attacked,” Galahad said. “What can you tell us about the situation?”

  The Codex’s expression was grim as she began tapping the keyboard in front of her. The TV screen split, letting us see her on one side and a document on the other. “We have recently learned that one of our top-ranking agents in Dublin is a traitor.”

  “Let me guess,” I said. “Maxwell Roberts.”

  The Codex nodded. “Yes. We have learned that Roberts’s true identity is a criminal known as Treggen. He has been stealing Caulborn secrets for months now, and yet we only recently were alerted to his activities.”

  “How is that possible?” Gears asked. “I’ve been in Dublin, I know how tight everything is over there.”

  “I’m willing to bet,” I said, “that if someone in Dublin is working really hard, doing everything right, and maybe even going above and beyond in his duties, especially if those duties included something like, oh, contingencies for if agents went rogue, then the higher-ups might not suspect that person to be capable of treason.”

  The Codex’s gaze was cool, but unruffled. She reminded me a bit of Megan in that respect. “You are correct, Vincent. Roberts’s work on the Corinthos Contingency Committee was exemplary.”

  “Corinthos Con— Annabelle,” Galahad said, eyes wide. “You knew about that? How could you do such a thing? Why was I not made aware of this?”

  “It is a sad necessity, Galahad. Vincent Corinthos is an extremely powerful being. More so than many of our agents. If he went rogue, we would need a way to deal with him.” She held up a hand forestalling him. “I hate to tell you this, old friend, but it is standard procedure for anyone who has magical or paranormal talents above a certain threshold. There are files like that for nea
rly everyone in this office, with the exception of Dr. Ryan and your secretary.”

  Galahad’s voice went to that icy calm that I’d come to fear. “You are implying that the agency doesn’t trust us. That they monitor us and probe our weaknesses even though we’re on the same side? That is absolutely reprehensible.” An edge I’d rarely heard before crept into the boss’s voice. He was close to losing his temper.

  The Codex spread her hands. “Like it or not, that is how the world works, Galahad. And that’s why we’re talking now. Those files have been compromised.”

  She gestured to the screen where a series of email messages were displayed. “After Inquisitor Xavier returned from the incident with Sakave, he told us about Roberts’s true identity. We suspended all his access to Caulborn information and attempted to apprehend him, but he eluded us.”

  “You mean you had him cornered and he turned into a pile of dust.” I said flatly. Treggen had escaped me twice by pulling that trick. Suffering any injury, no matter how trivial, caused his body to turn to a pile of ash, and then somehow he’d regenerate later. We still hadn’t been able to figure out how. Doc Ryan and Mrs. Rita suspected some kind of cloning technology, but they hadn’t been able to dig too deeply into that yet.

  “That is correct. Standard procedure in this scenario is to go through all of the implicated’s communications and determine the severity of the breach. We found an encrypted email thread between Treggen and this woman, Vasylna Kalienkov.” An image of a striking woman with raven-black hair and piercing green eyes appeared onscreen. Her skin had the telltale paleness of undeath. “Vasylna is believed to be the leader of a clan of upyr assassins.”