Threats did not become Sabree. A black eye or two would make my point if he called me by my full name. I leaned across the table. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Ignoring my abruptness, Sabree reached for a sugar pack. “Perhaps a camaraderie will develop between us—or a smidgen of friendship. Don’t laugh; it’s not that outlandish.”
I faked another sneeze, this curse fouler than the last.
“You should avoid the portal until you learn more about it.” His eyes darkened to a dangerous azure.
Portal Smortal. My sister’s gaze darted from me to Sabree and caught sight of his exquisite eye color. Sleeping Beauty turquoise. Gag. I noticed her sly smile.
“Let me review the Caderen archives by accessing the clan’s computer,” he said. “Can you wait until I finish?”
“Okay, I’ll wait, but not for long.” Although my tone was laced with skepticism, maybe Sabree believed I conceded to the absurd request. Let him think he was in control. I almost laughed aloud at the visual of Sabree using a computer. Our guide, Sarieff, admitted that the interpreters had only translated ten percent of the scrolls. If true, then Sabree’s so-called research would be short-lived if not bogus. This might also buy me time to arrange the next scavenger hunt.
3 3 3
Sabree dropped them off at the top of the driveway. Ariane folded her arms and waited while he parked the Ford. With her hand at waist level, she secretly waved when his mist carried him to the top of the ledge. No need to let Brian in on the polite gesture. It took her brother little time to enter the ranch and probably take refuge inside his bedroom. No escape for you dear brother, not this time. Ariane marched toward the ranch with one purpose in mind—the portal.
Inside, she greeted Jesse first and told him they were going after the flash drive his Navajo friend Bob Whyte hid. Surprisingly, Brian had been waiting for her in the hall outside his office. Before she entered, Ariane whispered to Jesse, “I’ll fill you in later on.”
Brian followed her inside and closed the door. His eyes kept glancing at the open blinds. “I guess we shouldn’t delay the inevitable, huh, Sis.”
Her stance relaxed. He called her Sis whenever he became vulnerable and sensitive to her needs. “What about Sabree?”
“None of his creepy crawlers in my office. We are bug free.”
Without wasting another second, Ariane sat on the small loveseat and patted the empty spot next to her. “Sit then.”
Brian drew the blinds, grabbed his computer chair, and rolled it over. He straddled the seat backward, leaning against the chair back with his eyes focused on the wall behind her.
Ariane read his body language as reluctance. Up for a challenge, she asked, “What’s this about the portal?”
“Back in Scotland, Eric found an amulet buried inside the tomb. The one I showed you.” Brian pulled up his sleeve and rolled his wrist, so she could see the front and back of the bracelet.
“That piece of steampunk junk you bought in Edinburgh?”
“Good one, Sis. Apparently, Turian used to wear this to enter portal worlds inhabited by the Malakhim. To exile the Fallen, the Malakhim grounded them by plucking their wings, all except for Turian’s. He wore the amulet to stay in contact with them.”
Ariane blinked. “Cayiel mentioned them. What did you think of his explanation? Are they really angels?”
“God no, well sort of, maybe.” Brian smirked. “Look, here’s what I found in the archives and from Sabree’s blathers. It’s best if I list everything for you.” He sucked in a breath until his chest puffed out. “First, on Earth we have wingless beings, the original Fallen thrown out of the heavens. Sabree is one. Those born from the Originals here on Earth are also the Fallen, related to clans like the Caderen and DanJal. We cannot reproduce with humans.”
Ariane tried to speak, but Brian hushed her.
“Second, in the alternate universes, these beings are known as the Malakhim—the lowest caste of angels known as winged messengers. Transcending them, the archives mention the Lighted Ones, energy-like omnipresent beings who call upon the Malakhim and other angel castes to do their bidding. Sabree said the Lighted Ones rarely appear on physical planes or worlds because of their fiery brightness. As far as angelic visits on Earth, the Malakhim are primarily guilty of that. Religious scripts report the messengers—winged creatures—still visit Earth, making sure they avoid the Fallen.” A hand waved in front of Brian’s face. His eyes focused on her. “What?”
“Take a breather. Let me absorb what you’ve said so far.” Her brother leaned into his seat and twirled in place. The chair squeaked with every revolution. That racket wasn’t going to help her think. She slapped his knee after half a dozen spins to end the squeals. “Okay, now that we know who’s who, how do you relate to the portal?”
“Remember the nightmares, the hallucinations? The crazies I suffered from since the transformation?”
“Yes, but what’s changed?” She laughed before his scowl formed. She reached for his hand. “Just kidding. Go on.”
“I believe they are Turian’s memories implanted inside us. However, his memories appear to be dormant in you.”
“Damn right, they are.” She never wanted anything to do with this vampire, angel crap—not now, not ever. She had taken double-doses for a month or so to help prevent the inevitable. Now the serum ran low. Ariane urged him to continue.
“Maybe because of the serum, but I was never daft. Just my way of dealing with the weird onslaught of information overload. Now that I wear this amulet, I can enter the alternate universes—the portal.”
“What!” Ariane cried as she jumped out of her seat and circled around his chair. “When? Why? Did you even think about the danger? How do you return?” Apparently, her brother adopted his new life as an angel slash vampire more seriously than she had imagined.
Brian grabbed her arms and held her still. “No worries, Sis, nothing bad happened except for the damaged roof.” His eyes gleamed. “Yes, that was my first visit, I think. Not sure though, because some of my dreams seemed so vivid.”
“First and last visit,” Ariane said, breaking free of his grip. In her opinion, he was crazier than she originally thought—experimenting with the unknown. “Sabree’s right.” A sigh slipped out for having to admit it. “We’d better wait until we know more. Let him do the research.”
Brian shook his head as he scratched his scalp. The action signaled how much he disliked the idea. “You heard Sarieff. None of them know how to decipher the scrolls.”
And only her brother could do so. How unfair for him, especially his safety, and unfair for her because she didn’t have the same abilities even if she denied all things vampire and angel. Ariane clutched his hand. “Please, Brian, for me. We need the journal more than ever. I asked Jesse to contact his friend about the next drive.”
Tears moistened her eyes as she swallowed her anguish. “I don’t want to be part of this world. I need the serum.” She gazed into the amber eyes that gleamed with raw emotion. He hated to see her so close to a breakdown; however, desperation and the meager supply of anti-vamps urged her to hasten the search for the journal. Brian would kill her if he found out she had squandered the supply by double-dosing for weeks. In reality, she never thought the search would drag on this long.
“Agreed.” Brian squeezed her hand. “We will go as soon as Jesse gets the map. He also mentioned a video.”
A weight lifted off her shoulders. Before the trip, she planned to dig up more information from Sabree. Use some of her feminine wiles. She refused to lose Brian to this portal madness, now a reality instead of imagined insanity.
41
BITES THE DUST
A riane eyed the crumpled map Jesse handed her. Bob Whyte, a Navajo EMT from Flagstaff and avid spelunker, stashed one of the drives in White Sands Socorro County, New Mexico. The single clue on the map pointed to the north fence of a desolate missile site surrounded by dunes and high plateaus. She, Jesse, and Brian had trekked ten miles sou
th of the operational base, geared up to descend five hundred feet into an abandoned underground laboratory. The only way in was to climb down the empty elevator shaft, the car removed so nothing could get in or out. The deserted stronghold once belonged to a lesser clan of the Fallen, the Sconcia. Unlike Area 51, it used to be a universal secret until now.
Ariane shook her head and bit her lower lip. Her brother had managed to tangle his legs in the hip harness, putting it on backward. “Let me help you with that.” She grabbed the harness and inadvertently yanked the strap into his groin.
“Easy!” Brian slipped the harness off and tossed it onto the sand. “I don’t need this stupid contraption.” He adjusted his leggings to ease the fabric away from his family jewels.
“Look, mister, I’m in charge of this expedition, so put it on.” Arms folded and chin held high, Ariane stood her ground until he picked up the harness. “Sunset won’t wait, so snap to it.” While Brian donned his gear, she and Jesse reviewed the details of the labs. Back home, all three of them downloaded Bob’s video onto their phones, certain there’d be no service this far out.
Again, Jesse grunted his dismay. “One trip too many.”
After several reviews of the video, the underground facility dark and creepy, he refused to climb down with them. She was thankful he offered to stay atop as the lookout.
An hour later, following the descent through tangled wires, torn metal I-beams, and all types of creepy crawlers that threw off colossal shadows, Ariane touched ground. She switched her helmet headlamp to wide scope so she could examine the area beyond the elevator.
The dark hallway littered with boxes, notebooks, and laboratory equipment looked exactly the way Jesse and his friend originally found it—abandoned in haste. They had reviewed the video of the first descent several times; however, it never captured the foul stench of death that accosted her nostrils. The rancid stench of one animal carcass was putrid enough, but this place stunk like a graveyard of zombies. She pulled the collar of her turtleneck over her nose and glanced up the shaft to check on her brother’s progress. Only a few feet above her, his bobbing headlamp stung her eyes.
“Sorry,” Brian said, landing on his feet and unhooking his harness. One deep breath and his nose wrinkled from the stench. Unlike her, he gagged.
“How in God’s name did Bob find this place?” she asked.
“Jesse said he had a vision during a sweat. Navajo stuff, I guess. At least he and Bob brought a GoPro.” Brian glanced at his phone to compare it with the hallway and grunted. “Bob loaded the video onto YouTube, but someone removed it. Didn’t even last an hour. My guess is the Fallen police.” Brian wrinkled his nose again and chuckled. “Come on.” He took the lead and entered the first laboratory. “What a mess—crap everywhere.” His elbow knocked over a flask. Glass shattered all over the floor.
The racket startled Ariane. Anger infused her tone. “Watch it—don't touch anything. It might be contaminated.” Her uneasiness increased, surrounded by broken equipment and God knows what else. An apocalyptic virus? She fought off the heebie-jeebies. “Let’s find the drive and go. It’s creepy down here.”
She sifted through a stack of notebooks piled on top of a desk. “According to the video, the flash drive’s in here.” Her gaze perused the lab. “Wait, something doesn't look right.” She walked over to the decontamination chamber in the back. Examining it, she recalled Bob hid the drive inside a small office. “Wait here, Brian, while I check across the hall.”
“Not a good idea to split up. Make it snappy.”
3 3 3
Alone and not happy about it, I flipped through a journal until movement inside the decontamination chamber caught my sideways glance. Behind the glass, six-foot-tall glass containers stored pickled mutations of various shapes and sizes. The oddly arranged apparatus evoked a nightmarish scene from Frankenstein's laboratory.
Curious, mostly reckless, I hit the control on the sealed-glass door. It slid open and I stepped inside, forgetting decontamination doors automatically sealed shut. The glass columns reached the ceiling. All at once, horror and sympathy curdled my gut as I stared at the deformities suspended in piss-yellow gel. Smattering dots of reddish-purple slime lined the inside of one tube.
An attempt to dodge it delivered me face-to-face with a large monstrosity crammed inside a vessel. Curiosity won over common sense. I leaned in to inspect the humanoid creature, the height of an adult male, suspended in thick gel. The creature’s veins, organs, and skeletal outline beneath its gray translucent skin intrigued me in a gruesome way. Elongated fangs protruding from its cadaverous jowls freaked me out. Giving in to morbid curiosity, I traced a finger across the glass to outline its fangs.
Zombie-gray eyes fluttered. Its mouth flew open. The fangs smacked into the glass when the creature rammed its head forward. The glass cracked. Yellow goo seeped through.
“Holy shit!” I dove for the exit. The glass door wouldn’t budge. I leaned against it using my full weight. “Ariane, help,” I yelled, rapping on the glass to get her attention. “These things are alive!” When I whacked the door again, my fist paused in mid-strike. The room was probably soundproof. She’d never hear me from across the hall. I tapped the decoder next, and when that failed, I pounded it, denting some of the keys. Despite the million-to-one odds that my fist would release the lock, I pulverized the decoder. My knuckles bled.
My face mashed against the glass, I wheezed in a breath and held it. Behind me, the incessant tapping like Morse code grew more rabid. My jaw clenched as I turned around and stared at the ceiling-to-floor tube that housed the creature. Its emaciated limbs slithered against the barrier until it contorted its body into a pretzel. The tapping came from its fangs in an attempt to break the container.
I prayed the glass would hold. Could it smell my blood? I sucked on my knuckles. Something had changed. Why didn’t these monstrosities star in Bob’s video? Another glance at the exit revealed no sign of my sister.
3 3 3
A freaky eeriness crept over Ariane, nearly asphyxiating the breath from her lungs. Her psyche, the Fallen intuition she typically ignored, warned her she was no longer alone. She tiptoed to the door and peered down the hall. Her headlamp cast a ten-foot narrow beam. Beyond the light, a shimmer in the darkness rippled. She sucked in a long breath. Did something move or were her eyes that tired? She glanced at the adjacent lab, certain she heard a muffled sound. The jitters hijacked her rational mind. Shot icicles down her spine.
Ariane had wasted enough time in the wrong room, so she crossed the hall to fetch her brother. Maybe he could recall which lab Bob hid the flash drive in and then they could leave this place ASAP. Another wave of her flashlight revealed the hall was still empty. She took two giant steps, glanced inside the lab, and froze. Her brother was behind the glass door in back, pounding on it like a fool. Ariane rushed over to him. A smirk parted her lips. “WTF? Are you stuck inside?”
Brian pointed to his ear and shook his head. Eager to accept her help, he pointed at the creature in one of the glass containers.
How could the creature be alive after all these years? Ariane clicked a few keys on the door decoder, clicked a few more until she pounded the entire pad when nothing else worked. She backed away, lunged at the glass door, and bounced off. Desperation won over common sense when she grabbed a metal stool and raised it over her head. She waited for Brian to wise up and take cover. The stool flew into the door and bounced off the Plexiglas straight at her. Crying out, she dove to one side to avoid the airborne stool. When she glanced back at Brian, it looked like he was laughing.
“I don’t see anything funny.” Her lips pursed, hands on her hips, she glared at him. His grimace was one of sheer terror as his fists beat against the glass, screaming at her to redirect her attention. He clutched his skull. She cocked her head when he tried good old-fashioned pointing.
Behind her? Ariane glanced back and shrieked at the emaciated, corpse-like humanoid that fell into the lab. Bloated e
yeballs nearly popped from its sockets. It slithered across the room on bony legs, its sunken jaw open to reveal long thin fangs. Urine colored foam oozed from its mouth when it sniffed the air. The ravenous nosophor, unclothed and obviously male, screeched to announce its lethal intent.
The unearthly shriek made her jump. Tears began to stream down her cheeks. She leaned toward Brian, slapped the glass with both hands, and whirled around again to find the seven-foot zombie-vampire had crept closer, baring its fangs and thrashing six-inch nails that stuck out like briar branches. Flashes from one of her brother’s nightmares rushed her mind. She swooned as a wave of dizziness almost overtook her.
Curses echoed off the laboratory walls when Ariane punched the decoder lock with her fist until it lodged free of the case. The door remained shut. She glanced behind her. The creature was a few feet away. “Open, damn it,” she cried.
Her breaths soon became wheezes as Ariane hyperventilated between sobs. She sank to the floor and hunched over into a fetal position against the glass door. The creature took a swipe at her arm. Thin eyelids covered its eyes, but she could see the pupils rolling upward like a shark ready to bite into flesh. Frothing blood spewed from its mouth. Its jaw cracked when the bony protrusion clamped down on her shoulder, mashing fabric and tissue. She screamed between gasping sobs as the fangs dug into her flesh. Her blood flowed freely. The room began to spin.
Ariane refused to accept inevitable death. Refused to be eaten alive by such a foul creature. A burst of adrenaline gave her the strength to slam her fist into the monster’s head and shoved it several feet away. The separation tore her shoulder, shredding tissue and skin. It shrieked repeatedly as it retreated to nurse its broken jaw. She leaned against the glass door to catch her breath. Too much blood flowed from the wound, most of it turning into crimson dust. She wrapped the sleeve of her shirt up over her shoulder to suppress the bleeding.
Amongst the Fallen Page 26