Fractures Read online

  Doc Ryan’s voice was something like a drill sergeant. “Corinthos. Do you know what will happen if you immolate those pods? Do you know if any contaminants will be released into the room? Do you know if fire can even kill these things?”

  My head cleared, and I released the fire. I suddenly felt very tired. “No,” I said.

  Doc Ryan put a hand on my shoulder, and while his voice didn’t exactly soften, it did return to its usual gruffness. “I’ll run some tests on them. Even if they hatch, and even if they can teleport on their own, it’s unlikely they’ll be strong enough to jump all the way across to the Bright Side.” He removed his hand. “Why don’t you go sit down, have a glass of water or something. You look strung out. Take a breather, and I’ll contact you if I find anything.”

  “Thanks, Doc,” I said. “Just be careful. I don’t know if they can bond with creatures other than Urisk. And we all know how that turned out for Eddie Brock.”

  The doc’s brow furrowed. “Who?”

  “Not a Spider-Man fan, huh?” I asked. “Never mind. All right, I’ll leave you to it, but please, be careful.”

  “That’s supposed to be my line to you, Corinthos,” he replied. He looked at Megan. “And I discharged you a few hours ago. Did you miss my effervescent personality that much?”

  Megan’s dimple made an appearance as she smiled at the doc. “I’m fine,” she replied. Gah, that phrase still stung. “Galahad told me to come get Vincent. There’s a meeting starting in ten minutes that he needs to be a part of.”

  As Megan and I left Medical, I gently took her by the arm. Too much was happening too fast, but I needed to catch her up on something. “Meg, I’ve made some progress on Herb’s situation.” I filled her in on what had happened with Mr. Albert, and the celestial metal detector he’d given me.

  Megan was smiling when I finished. “If Herb’s dad, a former lich, is involved, then I actually feel a lot better.” She shook her head. “Never thought I’d hear myself say something like that. But liches know oodles about binding souls to objects; it’s how they survive. I’ll bet he can help Mrs. Rita with the healing rituals once we get enough metal to repair the Rosario.”

  “Definitely,” I replied. I still felt like I was walking on eggshells around Megan. I knew we had a long way to go before we got back to where we’d been, but this conversation felt like a step in the right direction. “I’ll keep looking for sources of celestial metal, and I’ll keep you posted on what I find.”

  “I’ve got some sources I can check into as well,” she said. “Between the two of us, I’m sure we can dig something up.”

  “Oh,” I said, raising a hand. “One other thing. Some of the kobolds told me that new vampires are coming to town. Do you know anything about that?”

  Megan gave a tight nod. “They’re calling themselves upyr rather than vampires,” she said. “Very old school from what I’ve been able to learn so far. They’re a clan from either Serbia or Russia; I’m getting conflicting information. I’ve put in a request to Galahad to tap into some security footage of the area they’ve claimed, see if I can dig anything up. But the Blood Runners and the Midnight Clan are both afraid of them.”

  If two of the most powerful vampire clans in New England were scared of these upyr, that didn’t bode well for Boston. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help,” I said, conjuring holy light around my hand.

  “Yes, maybe you could shed some light on things,” Megan said, her dimple making an appearance.

  We smiled at each other, and then Leslie’s voice came over the intercom.

  “Vincent, please report to the conference room.”

  “Oops,” Megan said, bringing her hand to her mouth. “Sorry, Vincent, I guess I made you late.”

  I smiled at her. “No worries. You’re not part of this?”

  She shook her head. “Galahad has me on light duty right now, so whatever this is must be more than that.”

  “Heavy duty,” we said together. Megan giggled.

  “Good luck,” she said, and headed for her office.

  I was in the conference room less than a minute later. Seated around the table were Galahad, Jake, and the last person I expected to see. Dressed in a black suit, white shirt, and narrow black tie, Inquisitor Corben Xavier looked every part the creepy bastard he was. Xavier was the leader of the Inquisitors, the Caulborn’s internal police force. Having him show up could not be good.

  Galahad gestured for me to take a seat at the table. My best guess puts the boss in his late fifties, his steely gray hair neatly parted as always. The hollows under his eyes had gotten deeper lately, though. I was starting to worry about him. “Ah, Vincent,” Galahad said. “Excellent. Now that we are all here, Inquisitor, perhaps you can enlighten us on the nature of this emergency you spoke of.”

  Xavier waited until I’d shut the door behind me, then produced four ceramic tiles from his jacket pocket. Each one was about the size of a sticky note and had a rune etched on it. He placed one at each corner of the room and uttered a command word. The runes flared to life, glowing with a steady blue light. The light spread up the walls, encasing the room in azure energy. A faint hum, like a white noise machine, buzzed all around us.

  “We can speak now that I know this room is secure,” Xavier said. “Those tiles will keep anyone from eavesdropping or scrying.”

  Galahad shook his head. “I hardly think that is—”

  “Your office was compromised recently, Galahad Eleven. A criminal named Treggen placed surveillance equipment in this office right under your nose. I will take whatever precautions I deem necessary.” He nodded to himself as he sat back down. “Now then, to the business at hand. Galahad, I am enacting the Omnicron Initiative and commandeering these two members of your staff.”

  Holy shit. Omnicron? Omnicron missions are the stuff of legends. Basically, a small strike force of Caulborn agents get tapped to go on a mission that’s so important the world could end if they fail. The odds are usually so bad that a crooked Vegas bookie wouldn’t take bets on them. It’s an occupational hazard that all agents know about, but few ever have to actually embark on.

  Galahad’s voice was calm. That dangerous calm I’d come to fear. “Omnicron Initiative is not to be invoked lightly, Inquisitor. And few Caulborn agents return from Omnicron missions. I would know what crisis is so dire that you are taking two of my key staff.”

  Xavier’s voice held a don’t-screw-with-me tone; something I was sure Galahad wouldn’t appreciate. “I am taking these two because they had direct contact with an extradimensional being during the recent incident at Ashgate prison. That Warden Garside had made contact with said being, whether by accident or by design, was a horrible moment for humanity. Caulborn agents had successfully banished it from our realm over a hundred and fifty years ago, as your security guard well knows.”

  I looked at Jake. “As Jake knows? How is that possible?”

  Jake shifted uncomfortably in his seat and looked at the table. Jake is a small mountain of a man with dark hair and gray eyes. I’d never seen him look nervous before, but at that moment, he looked like he wanted to crawl under the table. Xavier barked a short laugh. “Really, Galahad? Your own people don’t know each other’s talents? It’s no wonder this office is such a mess.”

  “Yes, Inquisitor,” Galahad replied. “I believe my people are entitled to their privacy, and I do not force them to divulge their personal lives to one another. I have my hands quite full with running an office with a skeleton crew, since all the resources appropriated for my office were diverted into your pet project to forcibly reform paranormals. A pet project, which, coincidentally enough, resulted in Garside making contact with this being you are speaking about right now.”

  Xavier’s mouth was a hard line. Galahad returned the inquisitor’s gaze. I’d seen the boss square off
against a Horseman of the Apocalypse. If Xavier thought he could beat Galahad in a staring contest, he had another thing coming. I was proven right when a moment later, Xavier turned to look at Jake.

  “Jake, eh? Not going by Jacob anymore?”

  A pencil and legal pad sat on the table within Jake’s long reach. He picked up the pencil, hastily jotted something down, and held it up. In neat block letters, he’d printed: Jacob is too formal. Jake is more accepted today.

  I didn’t care for Xavier’s expression. He was taking pleasure in making Jake squirm. “Yes, I can see why you wouldn’t want Jacob, or even your previous ‘Giacobbe.’”

  “Gia-what?” I said.

  Jake frowned and scribbled for a bit. When he held up the pad, it read: My father named me Giacobbe. When I came to America in 1852, the Caulborn agents renamed me Jacob, due to the anti-Italian sentiment that was growing in the nation.

  “And who was your father?” Xavier asked. His tone implied he already knew the answer. He was enjoying tormenting Jake.

  Jake hesitated.

  “You don’t have to answer him, Jake,” Galahad cut in.

  But Jake had already written down a name on his pad and spun it around.

  Leonardo da Vinci.

  The room was dead quiet for a moment. Galahad broke the silence. “And now that you have pried into Jake’s past, Inquisitor, perhaps you would kindly get to the point.”

  “Jake was a member of the security detail that fended off this being back in the 1850s.”

  I cut in. “Okay, is there a reason we’re doing this Harry Potter he-who-shall-not-be-named bullshit? We’re talking about Sakave, right?”

  Xavier’s face went crimson. “All the details about him have been classified. How do you even know that name?”

  “A couple of nirrin assholes jumped me while I was in the Undercity. They were talking about how Sakave was going to return to this plane and implied it would be bad if we didn’t play nice with him.”

  “You were accosted by nirrin? Tell me everything.” Xavier demanded. I took a few minutes and explained what had happened. “And why didn’t you report this?” Xavier barked.

  “Oh, he reported it,” Galahad cut in. “Unfortunately, the name ‘nirrin’ just brought up ‘Insufficient Security Clearance’ messages when I tried to learn more, and my requests for assistance have as yet gone unanswered by your helpful staff, Xavier.”

  Xavier waved away the boss’s remark. “You must not have submitted your request properly, then. It seems that improper filing of reports is endemic in this office. You didn’t report that Corinthos had manifested the ability to create extradimensional portals. We had to learn that through necromantic interrogation of the late Warden Garside.”

  Whoa, I thought. Necromantic interrogation? I hadn’t known the Inquisitors could do that.

  “I think you’ll find,” Galahad replied, “that updated personnel reports aren’t due in until the end of the month, and I do have a draft sitting on my computer detailing this new development, which I will be happy to share with you. So, my dear Inquisitor, again I say, enlighten us. What are nirrin, and why should we be so worried about this Sakave?”

  Xavier’s distaste at being questioned was written all over his face. Likely when he told his inquisitors to jump, they’d ask “How high?” But Galahad was more or less the same rank as the inquisitor, and he had to answer the boss’s questions. “Sakave is a warlord who moves from plane to plane, imposing his own brand of law on all life forms. Places he visits become safe, in the same way that Nazi Germany was safe for German citizens that Hitler deemed worthy. As long as you don’t question him, don’t ever raise your voice, and don’t ever try to think for yourself, you’re fine. Otherwise, you die quickly, brutally, and your family is tortured extensively to serve as an example to others.

  “As for the nirrin, they are primarily ground troops, though some of them have a degree of magical aptitude—a limited ability to warp dimensional energy and minor control over plants.”

  “And you are tapping two of my agents for an Omnicron mission against this being and his forces?”

  “Of course not,” Xavier said. “A frontal Omnicron assault would be useless against something as powerful as Sakave. You may not be completely aware of this, given you were not originally trained as a Caulborn agent, Galahad Eleven,” Xavier’s tone was filled with disapproval, “but Omnicron’s not just about suicide missions. Omnicron exists so that an inquisitor, such as myself, can take the resources he needs for those missions that are of the utmost importance. This is such a mission, and it will be successful by stealth, not by force. We were alerted to Sakave’s potential return by a former ally of his. He provided us information about where Sakave will try to break through into our realm. I will take Corinthos, Jacob, and the Infant to this location, and we will reinforce reality there to prevent him from entering.”

  “Christ, too many secrets, Xavier,” I said. “Who’s the ally? And did I hear that right, you want us to take a baby along?”

  Xavier waved a dismissive hand at me. “I will let Jacob explain the Infant to you on your own time, Corinthos. He knows its purpose. As to the ally, I shall introduce you to him now.” The inquisitor reached below the conference room table and produced a metal box, maybe a foot and a half square. The latches popped open soundlessly and the sides fell away, revealing a bronze metal orb about the size of a bowling ball. The last time I’d seen it, I’d been on the deck of a damned ship, this ball in the grip of an angry wight.

  “Croatoan,” I snarled.

  “You,” the ball hissed back at me.

  Angry red lights began to spin around Croatoan, and I was on my feet, a telekinetic shield in front of me and a wreath of fire around my hands.

  “Vincent,” Galahad called. “Hold!”

  At the same time, Xavier shouted, “Croatoan, stand down!”

  The ball and I regarded one another, and then Croatoan’s red lights winked out. I dropped my shield and released my fire.

  “What the devil was that about?” Xavier barked at me.

  “We’re acquainted,” I said, glaring at the ball. “He’s the one responsible for the disappearance of the Roanoke colony. He turned all its settlers into wights and then took to the sea.”

  “That is classified information,” Xavier barked. “How do you know that?”

  “Because I was there,” I said.

  Xavier’s face reddened, but Croatoan spoke then. “He’s telling the truth, Xavier.” The disembodied voice wasn’t as calm as I remembered it. I’d encountered Croatoan in an odd sort of time warp, when I’d been thrown back in time to the sixteenth century. He and I had words, and it had ended with him sending dozens of undead Roanoke settlers after me. I’d escaped, barely, but it seemed the sentient little bowling ball here held a grudge. “This human and I have met before. You do not know everything about my past.” The ball was quiet for a moment, then added, “However, that encounter has no bearing on what we currently face. This realm is in danger. And if I must work with this”—I got the distinct impression he was referring to me—“then I will put the past aside and do what is necessary.”

  “You will explain this to me later,” Xavier snapped at Croatoan. “But for now”— he turned his attention to the rest of us—“for now, let me address your concerns, Galahad. Understand that Croatoan knew Sakave, was in direct contact with him for a time. Croatoan turned against him and is partially responsible for the success we had back in 1854. He can sense Sakave’s taint, knows where he will try to come into our realm. He will lead us to the exact place. We will reinforce reality so Sakave can’t enter, and deal with any nirrin we may encounter.”

  “So where is this apocalyptic event going to occur, Croatoan?” I asked. I didn’t like the idea of working with Croatoan, and I didn’t trust him as
far—well, I could probably throw him really far, so let’s just say I didn’t trust him. But there is that old saying: the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Just the same, I was going to keep a close eye on the evil bowling ball while we were on this mission.

  In response to my question, Croatoan projected a map onto the far wall. It started out at the global level, then gradually zoomed down to the U.S., then to Massachusetts, then to a spot about thirty miles south of Boston. I groaned. “The Bridgewater Triangle? Seriously? This day just keeps getting better and better.”

  You’ve probably heard of the Bermuda Triangle—a place where boats and planes go in and then mysteriously disappear without a trace. UFOs and odd lights are seen there, and radios and other technology suddenly stop working for no reason. Maybe you’ve heard of the Dragon’s Triangle, a place off the coast of Japan, which has a similar reputation. Here in Massachusetts, we have a triangle of our own. It encompasses a 200-square-mile area and is roughly centered on the town of Bridgewater. And yes, there are mysterious disappearances there, cattle mutilations, cult sacrifices, UFO sightings, as well as reports of giant birds with twelve-foot wingspans, oversized alligators, and giant dogs and cats that are immune to bullets and can disappear like smoke. All in all, not a place I was keen to visit.

  “He will break through here,” Croatoan said. “In the center of Hockomock Swamp. Reality is weak in the triangle to begin with, but it is weakest there. Also, it is the weakest point in reality that is closest to Ashgate, where Sakave first retouched this realm.”

  “So what about the nirrin?” I asked. “They’re going to be fighting us every step of the way.”

  “That’s why this is a stealth Omnicron mission, Corinthos. We sneak in, do what we need to, and sneak out.”

  “Sounds fine on the surface, Xavier,” I said. “But why do I get the impression you’re holding back on us?”