The Vigiles Urbani Chronicles- Year One

by Ken Lange

  He waved. “Okay.”

  The office was almost exactly how I’d left it, which meant there was a large pile of books on the floor and an empty set of shelves on the far wall. Oh, and an ever-growing pile of papers on the desk. From the look of things, someone, most likely Andrew, had been by to drop off some files.

  I picked up the folder on top—a dossier on Commander Kevlin. It was pretty bare bones, to be honest, containing rank, years in the military, and previous assignments. Nothing classified, or informative, for that matter. There were twenty-four additional files for each of the men who’d come with him to reclaim the box now in my possession.

  But they could wait. What I needed now was nourishment and good company.

  When I returned to the kitchen, Gabriel was at the table reading through a bunch of yellowed index cards and a pile of ancient papers. “What are those?”

  He pushed a few my way. “The old recipes I told you about.”

  I glanced down at them; they were in French. “You’re able to read those?”

  He lifted his gaze to mine. “Yeah…Mom insisted I learn as many languages as possible. You know, in case I had to…travel unexpectedly.”

  Translation: in case he was ever discovered and had to run. The Archive, much like the human population, was full of racist assholes. They hated weres on principle and had enslaved them for no other reason than that they could. Nephilim, however, were a different story—they were to be killed on sight. If I hadn’t been the first to find Gabriel, it was doubtful he’d still be amongst the living.

  Inhaling deeply, I blew it out slowly. “Sorry.”

  He grinned. “Don’t be. That was in the past. Thanks to you, my future is very different than the one she imagined, and for that I’m grateful.”

  I patted his forearm. “You’re welcome. I’m just sorry you had to go through it in the first place.”

  There was a ding, and he got to his feet. “Time to check the food.” He pointed at the counter. “I made a second one…in case you were hungry.”

  When was I not? I couldn’t tell you if it was my stone or the Grim that had turned my appetite up to eleven…not that it mattered. The only thing that did was my ever-growing hunger and ability to pack food away like a bear preparing to hibernate. It was getting pretty bad, and more than a little concerning.

  We were about halfway through the first pan—Gabriel had two servings, and I was on my fourth—when Heather got home.

  She stepped into the dining room wearing a puzzled expression. “Is that lasagna?”

  I nodded and pointed at Gabriel. “Yeah, someone was kind enough to make dinner this evening.”

  She turned to him. “I’ve got to know your recipe. That smells just like my grandfather’s.”

  Gabriel blushed. “It probably is. I found some recipes stuffed in the back of a drawer in the kitchen. Actually, there were a bunch of them in there on loose notes and in a small notebook.”

  Heather’s eyes widened, and a smile crossed her lips. “Really? That’s amazing. I’ve been here for years and haven’t run across them.” She walked over and hugged him. “Thank you.”

  He beamed. “My pleasure. I’m not surprised you didn’t find them. When I was cleaning up in the kitchen, one of the drawers was stuck, and it took a little persuasion to get it to open.”

  She snickered. “The one on the far left?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, that’s the one.”

  Shaking her head, she said, “I’ve always meant to do something about that thing…wish I had now.”

  He shrugged. “Glad to be of service then.” Excitement tinged his voice. “Try some…I think it turned out pretty good.”

  “It did.” I gestured at her chair. “Have a seat. I’ll bring you a plate, and you can find out for yourself.”

  Her bag made a heavy thud when it hit the floor. “Sorry, I brought home a bunch of crap from work.” She took her seat. “I’m still transferring ownership of the land from the Grants to the tribal council, and it’s taking a lot longer than expected.”

  Handing her the plate, I said, “I’m sure they’ll be grateful for the assistance.”

  She nodded. “They seem to be, especially now that Isaiah’s no longer serving as an elder.”

  I blinked. “He’s not? When did that happen?”

  She shrugged. “Not long after your trip. Thing is, he neglected to tell anyone he was quitting. One day he was there, the next, he was in the wind. It took me a couple of weeks to realize that nothing was happening on his end, and after contacting the other elders, I was forced to duplicate a lot of my emails and filings since he’d been my original point of contact.”

  Isaiah was an asshole through and through, but I never thought he’d just abandon his position.

  “That’s very strange. Have you spoken to Cole about it?”

  She shook her head. “No. But I’m glad the guy’s gone. He did nothing but stonewall me when I first got involved. Atsidi has been much more helpful.”

  I made an ugh sound. “Isaiah’s a douchebag. I’m sorry you had to deal with him.”

  She put a forkful of food in her mouth and closed her eyes in ecstasy. “Oh, my, god. This is awesome.”

  Gabriel chuckled. “I’m glad you approve. I’d hate to be the guy who ruined a childhood memory.”

  Her voice was filled with happiness. “You did wonderfully.”

  Chapter 19

  To the untrained ear, the two explosions would’ve sounded like thunder shaking the bedroom. I, however, knew better. Someone was using breaching charges at either end of the house. As I rolled to my feet, my shadow armor wrapped around me with an audible snap. It seemed we had visitors, and this was their way of knocking.

  I sprinted through the bedroom, crashing into the doorframe before launching myself down the stairs. When I reached the ground floor, the smoke hadn’t cleared yet. A man dressed in black riot gear with a tinted face mask stepped over the threshold, and I slammed my forearm into his chest, sending him sprawling back into his five identical brethren.

  The sharp click of Heather’s heel sounded against the hardwood floor behind me. Her tone was hard. “Move.”

  I hit the floor and rolled back toward the sound of her voice. She stepped past me with a cold fury burning in her eyes. It was a look I’d never seen before and never wished to see again.

  Just beyond her, Gabriel lay on the ground, grasping at the rather large piece of the back door protruding from his chest. He was hurt, but he’d likely live. I turned my head to the front entrance as the men regrouped to attempt another entry.

  Heather held out her hand, and something solid yet transparent formed between us and what remained of the front of the house.

  She nodded at Gabriel. “Help him. I’ve got this.”

  She pressed her hand forward, and whatever she’d created shattered like glass. Hundreds, if not thousands, of shards hurtled toward the invaders, slicing through them as if they were little more than wet tissue paper.

  Two of them simply fell where they stood. The others…not so much. Legs, arms, heads, and other assorted body parts hit the floor at odd intervals with a sickening thwap.

  The invaders at the rear had gained a foothold, and their leader charged Gabriel, lifting his weapon to finish him off. With a thought, I created a sphere of ice that flew at the man, catching him in the eye. I let it bore in through the socket before forcing it to expand to the size of a basketball, tearing his skull apart in an instant. Gory bits of tissue splattered the walls and ceiling. His compatriots opened fire with automatic weapons.

  Bullets thudded against my torso, arms, and legs like heavy rain. Blue flames crawled down my right arm as I sprinted forward. Grabbing the nearest body, I burned the man to a crisp. An ice gauntlet formed on my left arm with a sharp, jagged point that stuck out several inches past my fist. I slammed it into his partner’s neck, letting his carotid artery paint the nearest wall crimson.

  Three more men entered and leveled their w
eapons in my direction. With a thought, the Grim enveloped me and removed their souls. Their corpses hit the ground with dull thuds.

  I stepped back and wrenched the stake out of Gabriel’s chest. He jolted upright, grasped the wound with his right hand, and a brilliant white light poured into his chest, completely healing the injury.

  A few seconds later, he glanced up at me. “Your bedside manner sucks.”

  I opened my mouth to respond when something metallic hit the floor. It took me a half second to process that it was a goddamn grenade. Wrapping a thick layer of ice around it, I flung it out the door. I barely had time to duck behind what was left of the doorframe before it exploded. There were several screams of pain, and I quickly followed it out.

  I found four men on the ground and two doing their damnedest to escape. With a flick of my hand, two blades of ice sliced through the back of the runners’ legs about mid-calf, leaving bloody stumps in their wake.

  I grabbed the stump of the nearest one with my flaming hand to cauterize the wound. It wasn’t pretty, but he’d live…probably. His friend was a bit more difficult as he struggled to get free, which meant his leg was more of a charred mess than his companion’s.

  As a courtesy check, I knelt and took the pulse of the man who’d taken the brunt of the blast—unsurprisingly, he was quite dead. His buddy lying next to him had a terminal case of missing half his face, and a half-dozen perforations in his esophagus. The third man had been a bit further away but suffered injuries to his chest and throat.

  When his gaze met mine, I recognized him. This idiot had been manning the gate when I’d found out Commander Kevlin was in town. His name was…Bernard.

  Wasn’t he supposed to be swimming in the Gulf, or possibly the River Styx, right about now?

  Gabriel was out the door, looking none the worse for wear. “You okay?”

  I pointed at the two survivors. “Make sure they don’t go anywhere.”

  He furrowed his brow. “Ah, they’re missing a leg each. I don’t think they’re trotting off any time soon.”

  “Then it’ll be easy.” Without another word, I marched into the house to find Heather.

  She stood in the foyer with gore, flesh, and bone littering the floor all around her.

  I paused at the base of the stairs. “You okay?”

  She nodded. “Yeah.”

  Wiping my face, I said, “Call Baptist. We need him here as soon as possible.”

  “Okay.” She pulled out her phone. “Where are you going?”

  I pointed up. “The office. Be right back.”

  It didn’t take me long to grab the files my uncle had dropped off and get my ass back downstairs. Since the bodies in the backyard were more or less intact, I started there first. While it took me several minutes to sort through them, they were definitely all members of the team that’d been here in New Orleans.

  On my way down the hall, I stopped. The wall here had been coated in blood, but now it was clean, minus the pockmarks where bits of bone had dented it. As a matter of fact, the entire foyer was gore free. I stood there, dumbfounded, but my befuddlement was interrupted by a massive crack that sounded throughout the entire house, causing it to shudder and me to nearly crap my pants.

  It only lasted about thirty seconds but felt like an eternity. When it did stop, everything was eerily still. The ensuing silence was painful then there was a loud click followed by something grating against the floor upstairs.

  Clamping the folders to my waist, I took the stairs two at a time and turned into the office. The bookshelf had swung ajar. Off-kilter footsteps echoed in the background as someone stumbled toward the opening. A tired-looking man with dark skin, deep brown eyes, and salt-and-pepper hair stepped into view. He stood just under six feet tall and was handsome in an older European, permanent five-o’clock shadow way.

  There was a sharp intake of breath behind me as someone pushed past. Heather rushed over to the stranger. “Pépère, is that you?”

  The man squinted at her, and relief spread across his face as he wrapped his arms around her. “Ma chèrie. It’s been so long.”

  His legs gave out, and Heather caught him. “Pépère, are you okay?”

  His eyes closed, and she laid him on the floor.

  She turned to me with panic in her eyes. “It’s my grandfather.”

  As I made my way over to them, the case slid closed again, keeping its contents secret for now.

  I checked his pulse, and thankfully found one. “He’s alive, but we should get someone over here to look at him. Call your mom and see if she knows a doctor who could make a house call.” When she didn’t get to her feet right away, I put my hand on her shoulder. “Please, call your mother…I’ll tend to him in the meantime.”

  Swaying on the spot, she got to her feet, and pulled out her phone. “Mom. You need to get to my house right away. I’m fine, but— Will you please let me get a word in edgewise? Pépère is alive… I don’t know how, but he’s… He’s unconscious… Can you please get here and bring help? Oh, are you with Andrew? Okay, we’re going to need him as well. There’s a mess here… See you soon.”

  I scooped Henri up and carried him to the bedroom.

  Heather followed me in. “How is this even possible?”

  I shook my head. “No idea.”

  Sirens blared outside as police cruisers skidded to a halt in front of the house.

  Chapter 20

  May 7th

  Due to the large number of body parts, the CSI unit was having a freaking field day trying to figure out which piece went with what corpse. Normally, they wouldn’t have been as thorough as they were tonight, but these guys belonged to the UCD and, much like Baptist, they’d been shunted to the side. From what I gathered, Pete had been moved out of the coroner’s office and was doing all his work out of the MCC’s headquarters over on the edge of the French Quarter. As far as the NOPD was concerned, the UCD and anyone associated with us were no longer welcome to the city’s facilities.

  On the upside, while there were still bits of flesh lying around, all the blood—save for that out in the yard—had disappeared. That’d save us from cleaning up, but it was a wee bit creepy.

  As for the downside, I had a couple of folks that needed talking to.

  While the others were tending to the house, I moved Heather’s car out of the garage then gave my two prisoners each a chair.

  “Evening, gentlemen.” I looked down at their files and pointed at them in turn. “You’d be Derek and your buddy here is Marc.”

  Derek spat blood onto the cement. “Go fuck yourself.”

  Andrew walked in and closed the door behind him. “Mind if I join you?”

  I shook my head. “Not at all.” Gesturing at the two men, I said, “I was taking a moment to introduce myself to these fine gentlemen.”

  Andrew leaned against the doorframe. “I see.”

  Marc grimaced. “We’ve got nothing to say.” He gestured at his leg. “You’re going to pay for this.”

  Chuckling, I said, “Unlikely.”

  Derek shook his head. “We want our lawyer. We know our rights.”

  I glanced over at Andrew. “Isn’t that cute? They think we’re cops.”

  He waved a hand at me. “Well, technically, you are…just not one of their kind.”

  I nodded. “That’s true.”

  Derek growled. “There are laws—”

  My vision turned crimson as my eyes burned orange. “You’re right, there are…but those no longer apply to you. Do you have any idea who we are?”

  Marc used his one good foot to push his chair back several inches. “What the fuck are you?”

  I allowed the blue flames to coat my left hand. “That’s an excellent question and one a lot of people have been asking themselves lately.” The Grim enveloped me an instant later. “You’re going to tell me what I want to know.”

  Derek didn’t seem impressed. “Fuck you. You’re all bluster. As long as we keep our mouths shut, you won’t k
ill us. So, take your spook show and shove it up your ass.”

  A long tendril of smoke slammed into his chest hard enough to knock him out of his chair. “You’re right. I’m not going to kill you.” I forced the Grim back into its cage and gestured at Andrew. “But he’s not as nice as I am.” I walked over and shoved Derek back into his seat.

  Andrew stepped forward. “Last chance, boys. Agree to answer our questions, or I’m going to tear it out of your skulls piece by piece.”

  Marc eyed my normal-looking uncle and snorted. “I don’t think so, old man.”

  Andrew sighed. “Son, you’re not going to like what happens next.”

  Over the next hour, they gave us what little information they had. They’d been hired by Hirtenlicht, the company out of Berlin, to assassinate me. Their instructions were that any collateral damage would be rewarded with a healthy monetary bonus. Double if there were additional fatalities.

  Wow, the Gotteskinder were a whole other level of special.

  They’d always intended to kill Commander Kevlin, but were forced to step up their plans when they’d been placed on a plane headed back to Italy. Which meant they’d slit Kevlin’s throat before overpowering the pilots to stage the crash near the panhandle of Florida. Afterward, they’d made a night jump into the Gulf where they’d arranged for a small boat to pick them up. Once on dry land, they’d chartered a private aircraft back to New Orleans in an attempt to collect a paycheck at my expense.

  For generally pissing off Andrew, they were left a drooling mess. Andrew assured me they’d recover in a few days, but it was enough to give me pause. If he’d wanted to, he could’ve given them nightmares or destroyed their minds entirely. I finally understood why people feared him.

  One of Baptist’s people took them to Touro to make sure they wouldn’t die of an infection. After that, they’d be thrown into a cell at the UCD to await trial within the Archive’s legal system…which wouldn’t go well for them.

  Andrew bumped my elbow. “Got a minute?”

  “Sure, what’s up?”