The Vigiles Urbani Chronicles- Year One

by Ken Lange

  Even so, my chest spasmed, and it was difficult to breathe as agony coursed through me. While the blow hadn’t pierced my breastplate—yet—it was only a matter of time, given his strength. At that point, it would be all over…for me. The wendigo, however, would have a nice, hardy Gavin snack.

  John growled then feinted with a left swipe. I moved to avoid that, and his right landed hard against my face. My head twisted violently to the side, and my body spun on the spot before I hit the ground with a resounding thud. The resulting headache made it hard to think, or move, or generally exist.

  This wasn’t going according to plan. Then again, who goes into a fight wanting to get their ass handed to them?

  Before I could get to my feet, he kicked me hard in the ribs, and I hit the side of the building, denting it. His leg cocked back for another go, but this time I caught it and wrenched it to the side, taking him off his feet. It took a great deal of willpower to get back on mine, wobbly as I was.

  The moment he was upright, he grabbed me by the shoulders, and his bottom jaw unhinged as he pulled me closer. In a moment of pure desperation, I summoned ice and flame to replace the shadowy armor. When the ice touched his hands, he howled in pain, releasing me as smoke and mist trailed from his palms.

  I slammed my fist into his dislocated jaw, snapping it and leaving a burn mark in the shape of my knuckles on his jaundiced flesh. But it wasn’t there for long before his skin returned to its sallow, unmarred state. Shit, who was I fighting? Wolverine? That was highly unfair.

  Blue flames coated my left hand and the onyx gauntlet my right. When he came for me this time, I caught his arm, and the blue flames licked his flesh before quickly spreading across his torso.

  To my surprise, it took very little time for the wendigo to be engulfed. He thrashed about, trying to stop the inferno from spreading, but the more he flailed the stronger it became. Eventually, he stopped screaming. Then moving. And after several minutes, all that was left was a pile of white ash.

  I staggered, collapsed to my knees as nausea overwhelmed me, and lost the contents of my stomach. It was all I could do not to tumble face-first into my own vomit. Rolling onto my back, I stayed there for a long while, panting hard.

  Eventually, I worked up the energy to get myself onto my knees. Blue flames wrapped around me, and I was at the trailer in an instant. My vision darkened as Alexander sprinted toward me. My body rocked back, and I couldn’t keep my balance as the moon came into view for a split second before I fell unconscious.

  Chapter 27

  March 2nd

  The thudding of my pulse in my head was excruciating, but that paled in comparison to trying to open my eyes. I was lying on the bed in the back of the trailer, stripped to the waist, and generally feeling like dog shit. My arms weighed a ton, but eventually I got them to move and checked to make sure all my bits and pieces were still attached. Despite my discomfort, everything seemed to be in its proper place, other than the four large welts stretching from my abdomen to my chest.

  Since I was an absolute moron, I thought it was a good idea to touch them…which was when I screamed. The pain was so intense that I nearly fainted, but somehow, I managed to stay conscious. Trust me, not by choice.

  Alexander was the first through the door, followed closely by Cole and Atsidi.

  When I tried to sit up, Alexander placed a hand on my shoulder and forced me back onto the bed. “Easy now.”

  Grunting, I choked out a breath. “How long have I been out?”

  Atsidi stepped into view and frowned. “About ten hours.” He pointed at my chest. “Care to tell us how that happened?”

  I closed my eyes. “John Grant.”

  Cole blinked. “He’s a sorcerer. I thought you were immune to magic.”

  I shrugged. Or tried to, anyway. After I caught my breath, I cleared my throat. “I am. But he didn’t use magic against me.”

  Cole folded his arms across his chest. “Then what did he use?”

  The memory of John’s face as he transformed nauseated me. “He changed into a wendigo.”

  The others went silent. Atsidi shook his head. “You must be mistak—”

  Alexander cut him off. “If he says he fought a wendigo, he did.”

  Atsidi shook his head. “If that were the case, he’d be dead.”

  Alexander chuckled. “There was a time, not that long ago, when I was saying the same thing…but since then I’ve seen him survive a host of specters, deal with an ancient werepanther, a powerful necromancer, and a harpy. By the sound of things, we can add a wendigo to the list.”

  Atsidi frowned. “It would explain the marks.”

  Even though it was excruciating, I used all my strength to push myself up into a sitting position. “How so?”

  He took a deep breath. “They injure the soul more than the flesh. They don’t want to mar the meat too much, since that’s what they hunger for.”

  Well, that made sense. The wendigo hadn’t broken through my armor, but it had wounded me nevertheless. “Okay.” I glanced up at Atsidi. “So they’re cannibals?”

  Running his hand over his head, he sighed. “From what I’ve read, they’re like a snake, eating their victims whole.”

  Guess that explained the unhinged jaw.

  I pointed at my chest. “Any idea how to fix me up?”

  He scowled. “Not a clue.”

  Cole walked over to the window, pushed back the curtain, and opened it. The bright noonday sun blinded me, and my chest started to burn. When my vision finally cleared, I wished it hadn’t. White smoke trailed from the welts, which were pulsating weirdly. After what had to be an eternity, weakness overtook me as I grew numb and the pain faded away. In a matter of seconds, I drifted off to sleep…or fainted, possibly.

  When I awoke facedown, the sun was considerably lower in the sky, and Atsidi sat in the corner, watching over me. This time when I tried to move, my body was a little more responsive. While I was sore, weak, and generally trashed, the unrelenting nausea had passed.

  Atsidi held out his hand. “Don’t push yourself too hard.”

  Slowly, I sat up, and swung my legs over the bed. “What the hell happened?”

  He grimaced. “Cole tested a theory.”

  My head swam slightly as I wavered on the spot. “And that was?”

  According to legend, the wendigo can’t step into the sunlight, so Cole thought exposure to the sun would cleanse me of John’s influence—which, apparently, it had.

  I rubbed my forehead. “Next time, maybe he should give me a heads-up before doing something like that.”

  Atsidi laughed. “Would you have agreed if he had?”

  I shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

  He grinned. “Then it was best he did it this way. I’m not sure even you could’ve survived your wounds for another night.”

  The red marks on my chest were gone, mostly, and I was sore as shit. But I’d live.

  Running my hand over my torso, I sighed. “Fair enough.” I picked up my bag and pulled out a set of clothes. “I’m off to the shower, and after that, you can fill us in on what you learned from Łééchąą’í while I eat.”

  His voice hardened. “That’ll be a short conversation.”

  Tempted as I was to delve further into that comment, I shook my head. “After.”

  I got to my feet and slowly made my way into the bathroom. Once I was clean, dressed, and reasonably presentable, I stepped out. Alexander, Atsidi, and Cole sat at the table.

  Cole pointed at the food on the counter. “Take what you like. The rest of us ate earlier.”

  I filled my plate, sat, and ate, while the others spoke. Atsidi hadn’t had any luck with his pilgrimage. Łééchąą’í’s sanctuary was guarded by several large, heavily armored worms. Even after he’d rung the bells, the only one to come out to see him was an overly large, dark-skinned man with a bald head, who hadn’t said anything before ducking out of sight. The long and short of that story was, we couldn’t expect any help f
rom the tribal elders.

  Alexander’s people—all two of them—were holed up at the shop in town. They were doing their best to recruit a few more foot soldiers, but that was looking unlikely with the conference still going strong.

  As for Cole, he was back on his feet with only minimal discomfort.

  Good job, Kur.

  After finishing what was essentially a very late lunch or early dinner, I stepped outside and soaked in the rays of the sun. It wasn’t long before I felt normal…well, nearly anyway. I couldn’t shake the deep-down sick feeling in my gut. But thanks to Cole, that wouldn’t last long. I hoped.

  Alexander clapped me on the shoulder. “I’m about to head into town. Care to join me?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, I’d like to see what type of shit storm I’ve unleashed with John’s death.”

  He looked over at me. “How did you manage that anyway?”

  I frowned. “Burned him to death. His ashes are probably covering half of Grants by now.”

  Laughing, he shook his head. “You’re a very interesting man.”

  Chapter 28

  At the shop, I found Samantha Wilson, Alexander’s second, and Dean Branscomb. Sam was a small woman with long blond hair, and fit hardly began to describe her. While she wasn’t unattractive, she wasn’t what you’d call a knockout either. All the parts were there, but they didn’t seem to work well together.

  As for Dean, he was average height, heavily muscled, dark haired with hazel eyes. His most pronounced feature, however, was his southern drawl. When he started rattling things off, it was difficult to understand him at times. But he was exceptionally polite, and one of the nicest people I’d ever met.

  I locked the door behind me. “Evening, and thank you both for coming here to help. I know you guys have things that need to be tended to elsewhere.”

  Sam cracked her knuckles. “Think nothing of it. After the last few weeks of sitting on my ass and talking about my issues, I’m ready to knock someone’s block off.”

  I laughed. “Guess therapy isn’t for you.”

  She grimaced. “That isn’t therapy. It’s a goddamn bitch fest.” Annoyance crossed her face. “Why didn’t you just push the law through?”

  Alexander chuckled. “If he had, the old guard within the Archive would’ve tried to skirt the new laws.” He paused, and lifted his gaze to hers. “If that happened, there’d be a lot of pushback from our kind. Eventually that could lead to a war…and none of us want that. Going about it this way allows them to voice their opinions and gives them the illusion of having input.”

  She harrumphed. “We’ll see how well this works out. I have a feeling there’ll be bloodshed no matter what.”

  I nodded. “I’m sure you’re right, but in the end, I hope we’ll keep it to a minimum.”

  Dean raised his glass in a toast. “That would be awesome.”

  Sam cut her eyes at him. “Not all of us are pacifists here.”

  He frowned. “Obviously, neither am I, otherwise I wouldn’t be here, would I?” She started to interrupt, and he held out a hand to stop her. “I’ve fought in more wars than I like to think about. So, if there’s a chance for peace…or at least less fighting, you can count me in to do whatever it takes to make sure lives aren’t carelessly wasted.”

  Sam’s gaze hit the floor. “I know, but—”

  He grinned and patted her on the shoulder. “But, you’re impatient.”

  She shrugged. “At times. I just want my kids to grow up in a world that doesn’t view them as slaves.”

  Dean nodded. “You need to have kids first.”

  Grinning, she said, “You offering?”

  He shook his head. “Not today, but get back to me when this is all over, and we’ll see what we can work out.”

  She smacked his ass and winked. “That’s my boy.”

  I smiled. “You two finished?”

  Dean snickered. “You’ll have to forgive her. She’s wound a bit tight.”

  Alexander sighed. “I can’t take you guys anywhere.”

  Sam shrugged. “What did you expect? You’ve had me negotiating with those knuckleheads in Europe for weeks now.”

  He shrugged. “A little appreciation for getting you out of there.”

  She folded her arms. “Please. I’ll be appreciative when I cave in a few necromancers’ skulls. Do you have any idea how frustrating the French representatives have been?”

  Alexander rolled his eyes. “You act like you’ve been there all on your own. Have you forgotten that I was there with you?”

  She frowned. “No, but you’re always too fucking nice.”

  Alexander chuckled. “Okay, but I did manage to get the Germans to allow the weres full rights…and how far have you gotten with the French again?”

  Sam’s expression soured. “Their representative is a royal pain in the ass. Do you have any idea how arrogant the man is? I mean, it was all we could do to get him to sit down with the weres in the first place, and then to have me, a woman, discuss the details infuriated him.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe next time unbutton your shirt a little more, or God forbid, flirt. He’s a man, for God’s sake. Show some skin, and he’ll do whatever you want.”

  She put a hand to her mouth and made a choking noise. “Please stop. You’re making me ill.”

  Dean shook his head. “Christ, this isn’t about you. It’s about our entire community. Swallow your goddamn pride, and get it done.”

  She hung her head and nodded. “You’re right. Sorry. I’ll do better when we get back.”

  Taking a seat, I said, “Hopefully, that will be soon. Right now, we’ve got a host of problems.”

  Alexander grimaced. “That we do. We’re dealing with a bunch of necromancers, a horde of undead, and,” he pointed at me, “Gavin put a wendigo down last night.”

  Dean ran his hand over his face. “Christ Almighty. That’s one hell of a list of bad guys.”

  I nodded. “It is, and the sad thing is I’m not sure we know who all the players are yet. This town seems to be a haven for some really sketchy characters.”

  He clenched his fist, and several of his joints popped. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  Not as sorry as some of these assholes were going to be. Dean was one of the strongest, if not the strongest, in the clan. He’d never challenged Alexander for leadership since that wasn’t something he was interested in. Add to that that he’d been a highly decorated soldier in several different conflicts over the centuries all around the world, and you wind up with one truly badass individual.

  An explosion rocked the store, sending shards of glass, bits of steel, and chunks of brick hurtling our way. I brought up a shield of ice that kept most of the shrapnel from slicing us to pieces. When I lowered the barrier, Steve, along with several of his buddies, plowed through the shattered façade. Sam was the first to react, transforming into her were—a massive light brown bear on two legs—and charging the intruders. Steve ducked out of the way and dashed toward me. Shadows formed around his fists, and his eyes glowed red.

  That was just freaking great. The last asshole whose eyes had lit up nearly killed me. But this jerk wasn’t a wendigo…or at least I hoped not. Alexander and Dean transformed as they made their way to the entrance, stemming the tide of unwanted guests. That left me and my new dance partner alone to finish the conversation we’d started at the restaurant the other day.

  He clasped his hands together, and the dark ichor between them solidified into a dozen specters. They were different from the ones I’d faced previously, as they appeared to be more substantial…almost solid.

  The Grim wrapped around me in an instant and tore large, gaping holes out of them. Even though the attack staggered them, they remained upright…until the strength I’d absorbed from them pulsed through my body with a power unknown to me and ripped them apart in an instant. My vision turned a dozen shades of crimson, and my form expanded.

  Steve stood there, dumbfounded. I slammed my onyx hand
into his throat and snapped his neck. When I pulled back, I removed his soul and tore it to pieces before consuming its remains. Hovering several inches above the floor, I floated to the doorway, waved my hand, and the dozen men before us fell dead. The building groaned as their essence poured into me.

  Dean was quick to react, grabbing Sam and Alexander before forcing them out ahead of him. A moment later, the building shattered. Some of the debris fell in, but most was blown out into the desert and street. It took several seconds for me to regain control of myself and force the Grim back into his cage.

  Alexander cocked his head to the side. “I’m surprised there aren’t any sirens.” He turned to me. “You weren’t exactly subtle just then.”

  I shrugged. “Sorry.”

  He stepped out into the street and looked both ways.

  Tapping him on the shoulder, I asked, “What are you looking for?”

  “Cops.” Thumbing over his shoulder, he said, “The last thing we need is to wind up in jail this evening.” He gestured at the devastation. “It isn’t like this will go unnoticed for long.”

  I pointed at the SUV. “You guys head back to the trailer. I’ll clean up the mess and any fallout that follows.”

  Sam shook her head. “No way.”

  Glancing at her and then Alexander, I tilted my head. “I’d really rather you go with them. Trust me, I’ll be fine.”

  Alexander put his hand on her shoulder. “Come on, let him tend to this. And if that fails, it isn’t like they can hold him.”

  Dean’s expression turned dark. “No, I wouldn’t think they could.”

  She didn’t care for the idea, but she relented in the end, and they piled into the rental. It took them a few minutes to negotiate the rubble before they were able to make their way down Route 66 to the safety of Atsidi’s place.

  Chapter 29

  It’d taken me a while to get all the bodies inside what was left of the building, which was little more than broken walls and rubble. Honestly, I was surprised the police hadn’t shown up. Now that I thought about it, there hadn’t been any cars in the last few hours either.