The Vigiles Urbani Chronicles- Year One

by Ken Lange

  Wisps of shadow wrapped around me as I allowed the Grim to manifest. When the tendrils of my robe passed through the dead thing, it didn’t as much as flinch. Frustrated, I slammed my flaming fist into its face, and was met with less than dismal results. All that I’d managed to do was burn through its cheek to the bone, but the creature didn’t seem to feel pain. It appeared that the Grim was more or less useless against anything that didn’t have a soul…which meant that I was left without my best, and perhaps only, weapon against these things—a massive flaw in what little superpower I had.

  I brought the pommel down on its forehead, and it staggered back a half step. The vile thing recovered quickly and swiped at my abdomen with its bony fingers in an attempt to gut me. I deflected the blow with the gladius before kicking out and snapping its knee. It collapsed, and I drove the black blade through its brainpan. Thankfully, the thing stopped moving. The gladius, however, was vibrating, and a weird violet mist surrounded it.

  I glanced over at the first corpse, and it was just as dead as the others, so maybe headshots weren’t the only way to kill these things. Or maybe the gladius was doing the heavy lifting for me.

  Near the bridge, a bright orange glow lit up the night and highlighted the horde moving toward Cole. The Grim shimmered out of existence to reveal a thick layer of clear ice crawling up my legs and torso until it enveloped me. The blue flames normally confined to my left arm spread under the ice, and danced across my new form. When I stepped forward, I’d expected to be met with some sort of resistance, but there was none. This new armor was practically weightless and moved with a fluidity I hadn’t expected.

  I didn’t know what was happening to me, but a low rumble from Cole’s direction meant there was no time to figure it out. Testing my grip on the gladius, I gritted my teeth and leaped into the fray. I drove the sword into the back of the first body, and it dropped like a rock, taking the blade and me to the ground with it. Dozens of the corpses fell on top of me.

  The combined weight of their bodies forced me face-first against their fallen comrade. I lost my grip on the hilt, my hand slid down the blade, and it sliced through my palm. More of the things piled on, and the pressure built until I couldn’t breathe. It took all my strength, but I balled my fist and tried to force it up toward the sword once more. But a sudden impact from above forced my hand down. The moment my knuckles connected with the frozen earth, a massive shockwave rolled out in every direction, obliterating all it touched.

  The fire under the ice armor seeped through the cut, lapped at the blood I’d spilled before igniting an inferno that engulfed the area an instant later. The canyon walls funneled the flames in both directions. When it cleared, there was nothing left but ash, and an odd, silver man-sized sphere coated in ice.

  I swayed as the world around me spun faster and faster. It was difficult to breathe, my body ached, every bone felt bruised, and my head pounded in time with my racing pulse. My vision narrowed. Unable to catch my breath, I collapsed on the spot, and darkness overtook me.

  Chapter 7

  February 23rd

  The darkness ebbed away as light shone through my eyelids, which were crusted shut. My pulse was drumming out a rhythm against the back of my skull, making it difficult for me to recall my own name. To be honest, the last time I’d felt this awful was when I was a guest of the Iraqi government twenty years ago.

  It took some prodding to kick my brain back into gear, but when it finally came online, the recollection of being trapped in a canyon filled with shambling corpses flooded my mind’s eye.

  When I tried to open my mouth, my dry, cracked lips burned, and a low groan escaped me. Lifting my hand to my eyes to wipe away the grit took a monumental effort. Eventually, I opened them. Massive mistake. The curtains weren’t fully drawn, and the sun was doing its damndest to burn out my retinas.

  My body objected when I attempted to sit up. Agony coursed through me, but my scream was cut short when my chest seized, shutting off the flow of air to my vocal cords. I’d only managed a couple of inches, but when I fell back onto the mattress, it jolted every bone in my body.

  A second later, the door popped open. Cole stopped in his tracks, and relief spread across his face. “Thank God.” His body slumped as he took a deep breath. “You had me worried…I wasn’t sure if you were going to wake up.”

  I tried to speak, but all I could manage was to choke on my own tongue, and make some incoherent noises.

  Cole held out his hands. “Hold on, let me grab some water.”

  The first sip was cold, refreshing, life affirming. Honestly, it was difficult to think of a time when something so simple had tasted so good. But my hands were still shaky, and I spilled the rest before I could get a proper drink. With Cole’s help, I managed the second glass a little easier, even if it did take ten minutes to get it down.

  Again, it took the two of us to prop me against the wall of the trailer, but I was feeling somewhat better. Taking a deep breath, I gave Cole a once-over. “Not that I’m not grateful, but how in the hell did you manage to carry me back here?”

  Cole blew out a long breath. “It took a little doing with you being unconscious and all, but I’m stronger than I look. The most difficult part was trying to balance you as I made my way up the wall of the gorge out there.”

  My cheeks burned. “Sorry about that…and thank you for taking care of me.” My hands shook as I lifted a third cup of water to my lips. “How long was I out?”

  He winced as he rubbed his forehead. “A day and a half.”

  I blinked. “Shit. Any idea what happened?”

  His hands shook, and he sat on the edge of the bed. “Not exactly. In truth, I was hoping you had some answers. There were a crap ton of the chindi then there was a rumble a few seconds before the gorge turned into a raging blue inferno. Once that cleared, you were covered in the same weird flames. You staggered, fell to your knees, and promptly went to sleep on the job.”

  His summation made me laugh, but the pain made it come out more as a series of coughs. “Is that what I did?”

  He shrugged. “After being forced to carry you back, that’s how I’m seeing it.”

  I grinned. “When you put it like that, I sound like a lazy bastard.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, you do…but it gave me some time to work on the truck while you slept.”

  A pain shot through my hand, and it made me wince. “How’s that coming?”

  Getting to his feet, he growled. “Whoever it was didn’t fuck things up too badly, but they did steal the distributor cap. Without that, we’re dead in the water.”

  I leaned my head against the wall. “Goddamn it.” Shaking my head, I sighed. “What happened to the zombies?”

  Cole threw up his hands in defeat. “They’re ash…not that I understand how you managed it. And while that’s impressive, and a wee bit terrifying by itself, that isn’t the weirdest part.”

  I popped my head off the wall to give him a curious look. “What do you mean?”

  Rolling his shoulders, he sat on the edge of the bed again. “Those flames, they didn’t feel hot. I mean, they turned a bunch of corpses to dust, but when they surrounded me, I thought I was going to freeze to death on the spot. That’s fucking strange, man.”

  Thinking back to the incident with Brad, it made sense. For a fire to burn hot enough to turn a body into a charcoal briquette, the room should’ve heated up like a blast furnace, but none of the triumvirate members had as much as broken a sweat.

  I took a moment to mull that over, before turning my attention back to him. “Okay…that is a bit weird.”

  He snorted. “Just a little, but, believe it or not…there’s more.” His gaze hit the floor, but after a few seconds, he glanced up at me. “The sword you were using is stuck in the bedrock…I can’t even wrap my hand around the hilt without getting thrown back on my ass. It’s almost as if the thing is alive and knows I’m not its master.”

  That wasn’t really a surprise. While I co
uldn’t tell you how, or why, the gladius was sentient, possessing a keen intellect…and perhaps even a soul. I know that talking about an inorganic object like it has a life of its own is a bit peculiar, but there you have it.

  Nodding, I said, “I’ll tend to it shortly.”

  Cole patted my leg. “I’d suggest some food and a shower first. After that, let’s see how you’re feeling.”

  I ran my hand over the top of my head. “Probably a good idea.”

  He insisted on feeding me before I got clean, which wasn’t an awful deal, but the real turning point in my day came with my shower. Nearly all the cobwebs in my head cleared up, and the aches and pains became manageable. While I was still pretty messed up, I could walk and talk without too much effort, so I counted that as a win.

  An hour later, I stepped out of the trailer to find a massive black scar marring the land around the mouth of the ravine, and the ragged evergreens caught in the blast radius were now dead.

  Kur shivered. “Such is the power of a Reaper’s blood…it is able to give or take life, depending on the intent.”

  I glanced down at my hand. It was completely healed, and as per usual these days, there wasn’t a scar to show for it—not that I needed another one. Cole guided me down a fissure that gradually led into the canyon, so I didn’t have to climb down, which was an absolute bonus given how unsteady I was on my feet.

  He stopped short and stepped out of the way. “Here it is.”

  The gladius was wedged into a crack in the charred sandstone. I slowly wrapped my fingers around the hilt, took a deep breath, and jerked up. That was a mistake, because the blade came free the moment I tugged on it. Which meant the rest of the momentum I’d built up landed me on my ass.

  Cole chuckled. “I guess you didn’t need to pull so hard.”

  I sheathed the sword and pushed myself onto my feet. “Ya think?” Before he could respond, a moan drifted out of the distance. Frowning, I turned to Cole. “Tell me you heard that.”

  He nodded, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “Yeah.”

  Pushing the pain aside, I quietly jogged over to the far side of the gorge and made my way up, with Cole right beside me. The whimpering was becoming more frequent, which made it easier to follow. There was a large boulder in front of us, and I motioned for Cole to go left while I went right.

  I picked up the pace, and a few seconds later, I found a wounded man propped against the sandstone rock. The side of his face, both arms and legs were charred. He must’ve gotten caught by the blast when I destroyed the zombies.

  His head listed my way, and his eyes bulged. When he finally spoke, it was with a heavy Russian accent. “St…stay back. I’m dead already, thanks to you. Just let me die in peace.”

  My gaze swept over the man’s exposed chest. There was a thick black circle with nine blades running to a center ring, giving it the look of a deadly wagon wheel. At the base of each blade was an inscription I couldn’t read. Kur’s consciousness squirmed at the sight of them, and the Grim stirred with an inexplicable anger.

  Kur whispered, “Necromancer.”

  Even though I tried to fight it, the Grim wrapped itself around me, and long black tendrils shot out to heft the dying man off the ground. Without much thought, I lifted my onyx-covered hand. A thick pillar of darkness poured out, tearing through his tattoo and chest before slamming into the sandstone hard enough to crack it. It stopped, and I removed his soul, mixing his power with my own. Shadows of red and orange swirled into my cloak and backlit the darker strands before it returned to its natural state.

  Just as quickly as he’d arrived, my alter ego vanished, leaving me to tend to the now-lifeless man, who fell back to the earth with a squishy thud. Shit. On the upside, my wounds were healed, and I felt normal again, but it would’ve been nice to question the man before executing him. Mind you, it was a little late to beat myself up about it. All I could do was hope to do better in the future.

  When I glanced up, Cole was standing there, white-faced, and shaking. Eventually, he found his voice and stammered, “What…what the hell was that?”

  I held up my hands and stepped back from the body. “It’s okay, I promise… That was the Grim.”

  He shivered. “And that is what, exactly?”

  I shrugged. “No idea. As I’ve said, I’m still new to this world.” My gaze fell on the corpse, and I sighed. “And my inexperience has just killed our one and only lead… Any chance you know the guy?”

  Shaking his head, he frowned. “I haven’t the faintest idea who he is…” He squared his shoulders, and his tone hardened. “Just how new are you to your abilities?”

  My cheeks burned, and I suddenly found the pebbles near my feet very interesting. “They manifested the day I became vigil, and a day or two after I found out I was a Stone Born.”

  His jaw dropped. “Seriously?”

  I nodded. “Why would I make something like that up?”

  Cole ran his hand over his mouth. “That’s the craziest shit I’ve ever heard, but the denarius is never wrong about power. Those things are drawn to it like moths to a flame.”

  The comment caught me off guard. “Huh? What’s that supposed to mean? What—”

  He held up a finger to stop my questions. “Let’s take care of one thing at a time.” Pointing at the corpse, he said, “This guy isn’t ash, so we’ll need to bury him.”

  I stepped toward the corpse and gestured at it. “Whoa, slow down there. Don’t you think we need to call the authorities or something?”

  A sly smile slowly broke across his face. “You are the authorities.”

  That was something I’d have to get used to. In the end, there was no higher authority to contact about such situations. I blinked dumbly. “Oh…yeah. Sorry, I keep forgetting that.”

  He gestured at the corpse. “Do me a favor? Pat the guy down, and see if you can find anything useful before we stick him in the ground.”

  I shook my head. “You search, and I’ll walk back to the trailer to find a shovel. No need for you to suffer because of my mistake.”

  He grimaced. “I don’t carry gardening tools with me when I go camping.” Cole kept a healthy distance. “On top of that, I need a few minutes to get comfortable with the idea of…what did you call it…the Grim?” I nodded, and he continued. “Well, I’d like to…you know…keep you where I can see you, until I get used to you having multiple…forms.” He held out his hand to stop me from saying anything. “Think about it, in the last few days, I’ve seen you as…whatever that was in the canyon, this Grim thing. and your normal self. It’s a lot to take in. You understand…right?”

  Nodding, I sighed. “I suppose I do.”

  He gave me a nervous smile. “Good.”

  I grabbed my phone and started taking pictures. “Are you sure you don’t want any help digging that hole?”

  Cole frowned. “I’ll be fine, and in case you missed it, I’d like to keep some distance between us for the moment. I’m not saying I’m scared, but watching you punch a hole through someone’s chest without meaning to makes me a bit gun-shy.”

  Wish I could say he was being overly dramatic, but I’d gotten a good look at myself in Reaper form, and it was nothing nice.

  After snapping several photos of the area around the hole in his chest where a few of the markings remained, I flipped him over and repeated the process. Checking his back pocket, I found a wallet with thirty dollars American, twenty-five hundred rubles, and a battered ID that read Mikhail Ivanov. I knew enough Cyrillic that I didn’t need Kur to translate it for me. Holding the photo up, I compared the faded black and white image to that of my newly dead friend; they were a match. According to the birthdate, he was supposed to be sixty-one years old, but he didn’t appear to be out of his twenties.

  If I had to guess, this was his first state-issued identification card. Heather told me that a lot of the supernatural community held onto the mementoes of their youth. Witness protection offered by the U.S. government didn’t
have a thing on the Archive. They’d perfected the art of building entire new identities for their members, thanks to centuries of practice.

  This was due to one of the less popular Archive laws that required every member to move to a different city, or preferably country, and take on a new persona every so many decades. In fact, it was my good fortune that I’d returned home when I did, because Andrew wouldn’t have been there in a few more years. I wasn’t looking forward to the day it would be my turn, but it was unavoidable.

  Holding up the tattered piece of paper, I asked, “Does the name Mikhail Ivanov mean anything to you?”

  Cole shook his head. “Nope, but as small as the towns around here are, someone is bound to know who he is.”

  A long strand of silver emerged from each of his hands and merged into a thick tendril of gleaming light about two feet in front of him. It stretched out another several feet, and he moved it toward the ground. It cut into the soil, disappeared for a few seconds, and when he lifted his hands, a large mound of dirt came up with them. He deposited it at the side of the six-foot-long by three-feet-wide oval pit.

  I understood now why he’d wanted to dig, because that meant he didn’t have to fondle a dead guy.

  He stepped back and eyed Mikhail’s remains. “Done with him?”

  “Not yet. Give me a second.” I’d lied—it took nearly another minute, maybe two, to ensure I’d searched him thoroughly and emptied his pockets. “Okay, all done.”

  Cole took a few steps back and pointed at the hole. “You killed him. You drop him in. After that, we can move on with our day.”

  I glanced between Cole and the wide berth he’d given me and sighed. “Honestly, there’s nothing to worry about. I’ve got the Grim under control. Promise.”

  He shrugged. “I believe you, but if it’s okay, I’ll believe you from over here… Don’t worry, I’m kind of getting used to the idea, which is why I’m not halfway back to camp by now.”