Void: Book Five of the Nightlord series

by Garon Whited

  “Did you get what you wanted?”

  “I think so. With this close analysis, I’m certain I can build a more long-ranged and accurate bloodsucker detector. How’s the compass working out for you?”

  “It only detects the closest one,” he answered. “Right now, that’s this guy,” he gestured at the corpse.

  “Hmm. I hadn’t considered that. That’s a serious bug and I’m not sure how to overcome it. I’ll have to think about it. Still, if it suddenly swings around and starts pointing, you know one just came into range.”

  “That’s true.”

  “In the meantime, I have a couple of observations. Last time I staked one of these things, he didn’t seem aware of what went on. I think they shut down completely when they’re impaled. It’s like the stake acts as a cork and the heart is the mouth of the power connection. You might want to test that.”

  “Someone will make a note of it.” He shifted uncomfortably. “You don’t… You can’t possibly be unaware.”

  “Of course I’m aware. There are at least eight people in the hall and I’m guessing two more in the observation room. If I were you, I’d probably have teams of two at… let me think… four points? At least four points in the facility between me and the door. I’m guessing the kid out front—Sam?—is now outside the grating and has a partner. There might even be explosive charges in the tunnel. After all, if I’m walking out, he has to assume everyone inside is dead.”

  “I hate how you think.”

  “I’m not sure if I’ve ever been told that. Why?”

  “Because you make a hell of a lot of sense.”

  “What doesn’t make sense,” I replied, gently, “is why you’re in here. I mean, you’re alone, almost unarmed, and I’m not tied down. If I wanted it, you’d be dead for two minutes before you caught on.”

  “I think you don’t want to. I think this bloodsucker project means something to you.”

  “And you’re risking your life to prove it? Not to me, obviously. Religious zealots?”

  Ted chuckled.

  “Let’s say that’s who I’m proving something to.”

  “Well, you’re right. If you’ll permit me, I’ll cast a spell on you like a gas mask.”

  “A—a what?” he asked, startled.

  “If things go pear-shaped, my partner will trigger the nerve gas. It won’t bother me or the bloodsucker—we’re both dead-ish, so we have that much in common—but anyone alive is going to die without ever knowing what happened. It’s fairly fast-acting, though, and painless. I specified something painless.”

  “What nerve gas?”

  “I built this place, Ted,” I reminded him. “I knew I would be walking into a den of danger. Did you think I wouldn’t have a safeguard against unreasonable idiots? I’m trying to get along, but, as you know, some people don’t believe me.”

  “My sons are in here!”

  “True, and I’m sorry about that. Do you want me to cast a gas-mask spell on them, as well?”

  “This is how you repay my trust?” he demanded, leaping to his feet.

  “Ted, I haven’t gassed the place. The men in the hallway haven’t shot at me, either, so I’ve got no reason to start yelling about how I trusted you. I walked in here knowing you—well, others. Not necessarily you. I walked in here knowing someone might get gun-happy and try to blow me away. They’ve set up to do it, don’t tell me they haven’t. Nobody’s dead. Nobody’s been shot or gassed. Nobody has to be. And you’re complaining about betraying your trust?”

  “I’ve got to—”

  “No, you don’t,” I countered, still seated. I wished for a chair I could lean back in if only to project a better air of relaxed calm. “The guys in the observation booth are already doing it. If they’re reasonable, they’ll realize there’s no point in sacrificing themselves without even killing ‘the monster.’ But if they want to throw their lives away in pointless self-slaughter, I will reluctantly oblige. Otherwise, I’ll walk peacefully out of here, leaving you with a bloodsucker to take apart at your leisure.”

  “My concern is for my boys. Monsters are one thing. Poison gas is another!”

  “Fair enough. Monsters can be fought. So, I tell you what. If you want to clear everyone out of the facility, I’ll bring the gas cannisters out with me. I’m strong enough to carry them. Then you can have the facility and the bloodsucker. We both go our merry ways.”

  “I’m not going to be able to sell that,” he stated, flatly.

  “You’d take the deal,” I guessed. “You’re a practical man. It’s those stupid zealots who won’t listen.”

  “Damn right.”

  “Try to explain it to them. If I walk through the hatch from this room to the corridor, guns go off, and gas floods the place. I still walk out, but everyone else is dead. If they leave, they live—plus they get a nice secret headquarters.”

  “It’s not secret,” Ted sneered.

  “Oh, right. I know about it. Okay, you get a nice expendable laboratory for monster dissection. Useful while it lasts. Fair?”

  “More accurate, anyway.”

  “Try and sell the escape.” I checked my wristwatch. “You guys have eleven minutes before I start for the exit. After that, whatever happens is because of the path they chose.”

  “You sound as though you don’t want to be held responsible.”

  “You have no idea, Ted. I’ve been trying to duck responsibility since I was six.”

  “How long ago was that?’

  “A lifetime. Get going. You can quiz me about my age some other time.”

  Ted studied me through narrowed eyes, the gears in his head spinning fast enough to smoke. At last, he nodded, a curt, single jerk of the head, and stomped out of the room. I rested my elbow on the table, next to the staked bloodsucker.

  “I’ll give you three to one the pragmatists beat it outside. I’ll also give you three to two the fanatics won’t. They’ll be too blinded by their own unreasoning need. They won’t show wisdom, only zeal.”

  He didn’t take the bet. I wasn’t surprised. I only hoped my comment was heard in the observation booth. It was only for their benefit, anyway.

  I kept an eye on my wristwatch, counting the minutes. There was a heated argument in the hallway, some of it done in loud voices bordering closely on shouting. I suspect there will not be an alliance of religious vampire hunters and secular vampire hunters. Radically different priorities among the field operatives, you know?

  The hatch, when I checked it, was bolted from the outside, naturally. If they could keep me penned up until sunrise, they would have me at their mercy, or so they thought.

  All right. Things had quieted down in the corridor. If they wanted to be that way, we could play their game.

  I kind of wished I had installed an emergency nerve gas system. Next time I build a secret lair…

  I approached the observation window, cupped my hands, peered in through the glass. Two people were in the room, both pressed to the back wall and holding up crosses. Fair enough.

  I drew Firebrand and it lit up, becoming a steel-cored bar of flame. With one solid thrust, we penetrated the glass and stuck half the blade into the room beyond. A quick burp of fire caused the edges of the hole in the glass to run freely, as well as fill the room beyond with a cloud of flame. Screaming—more in terror than in pain—told me they were suitably distracted.

  I grabbed one thing from the containment room before I let Firebrand play plasma cutter on the door. In less than a minute, the steel hatch was a glowing-edged piece of metal. I yanked it into the room and thrust out the thing I grabbed.

  It was the bloodsucker. I held him, still staked, by the back of the neck, and stood him up in the corridor like a puppet. He made an excellent decoy. Gunfire went off like crazy, bullets zinging down the hallway, some of them hitting their target. He began to smoke heavily, like a pile of tires set ablaze, and I could feel the pricking tingle of a faith-based force on my arm. I found it interesting how the en
ergies directed down the corridor reacted so differently between him and me. He smoked and caught fire. I sizzled slightly. Because we’re different types of vampire? Probably. Whatever it was humans did, whether it was their own energies directed through faith, or other energies channeled through them, it had an intense reaction to the Boojum’s breed of bloodsucker. It didn’t like me much, but it really didn’t care for them.

  The gunfire slackened as people emptied their weapons, but the heat of the religious fervor intensified as they switched to divine attacks. The fact they didn’t catch on to my dummy I attribute to both the thick, black smoke in the hallway and their high levels of excitement. As my smoking decoy actively caught fire, I took a step into the corridor, using the cut-out door as a shield. I eyeballed the distance through the smoke and the supernatural glare and threw my vampire at them. There came an immediate decrease in the intensity of their concentration and several screams. I was happy about that because it allowed me to take better look through the smoky air and see what I was facing. They started as three ranks of three men, front rank kneeling, the back two staggered, all of whom were directing both mundane and divine fire in my direction. Several were now out of position to avoid the burning bones of a former vampire.

  I guessed there might be more vehicles outside by now, as well as quite a lot more people.

  I launched the door like an awkward Frisbee. The door wasn’t designed to be a missile weapon, but it worked surprisingly well. I would not be shocked to learn several of them died under the impact. I hurled it as hard as I could, skipping it off the floor just in front of the first rank. If any of them came out of it unscathed, it was a miracle.

  Of course, I followed it up with a blast of fire from Firebrand. There is no kill like overkill, and anyone with a crushed limb as well as burning clothing is unlikely to concentrate on anything beyond his own injuries.

  I walked away from them. I refused to run. If any of them retained enough presence of mind to take note of me, I wanted their only impression to be one of unhurried indifference.

  Once around the corner, however, I had no need to put on a show. I sprinted like hell for the shift-booth. Nobody was in the way—they were all posted to keep me away from the main door. I made it through the hidden panel and closed it behind me, shifting instantly to Apocalyptica.

  “Diogenes?”

  “Yes, Professor?”

  “Any word on the shift-booth bomb I just exchanged places with?”

  “Please exit the booth, Professor.”

  I did so. A robot entered and closed the door. It opened again almost immediately.

  “The shift-booth in question is no longer functional, Professor. My observation links in the facility report an explosion and an ongoing fire in the shift-booth location.”

  “Hey!” Mary said, through my Diogephone. “What does this mean? Do I stay or do I go? I’ve got several targets outside the mine.”

  “Those would be Ted and his cronies,” I told her. “Are they interfering with Bronze?”

  “No. She just circled around onto the access road and is leaving.”

  “She’ll pick you up. I got what I wanted. They can have whatever is left.”

  “Are you sure? I’ve got a fat guy with obvious religious jewelry on him. He could be someone important.”

  “Unless he’s wearing a Karvalen symbol for the Lord of Light, I don’t care.”

  “When you say you don’t care, does that mean I can shoot him?”

  “Bloodthirsty wench,” I accused.

  “Guilty. So, can I shoot him?”

  “Do you need my permission?”

  “No, but I like to avoid screwing up your plans. Can I shoot him?”

  “I appreciate your restraint.”

  “And I’m pleased with my restraints, but we can talk about those later. Can I shoot him?”

  “Fine! Fine! Do what you like, but leave Ted and his guys alone. Fair?”

  I heard a faint sound through the phone. It reminded me strongly of a subsonic, high-accuracy round being fired from a silenced weapon directly into someone’s brain. No idea why. Then I heard it again, but this time it sounded more like it was headed for someone’s heart.

  I don’t think Mary likes these religious guys. I know I don’t.

  Apocalyptica, Tuesday, October 7th, Year 11

  Bronze picked up Mary and tore down the road getting her back to the local lair. Meanwhile, I started working on my Boojum-hunter spell. I made good progress while Mary and Bronze were in transit. They had to stop for the sunrise, so they had a bit of a delay. When they reached the house, Mary called. I answered.

  “Ancient Evil, Incorporated. How may I direct your call?”

  “You’re in a good mood,” she observed.

  “It’s not every day I escape from my own deathtrap.”

  “True, I suppose. Diogenes tells me there is no nerve gas built into the facility. Did you add it yourself?”

  “I bluffed.”

  “I suspected. Going to tell Ted? Or is he just going to live with a constant fear of suddenly dropping dead?”

  “I bluffed with the explosive vest, too. He’s not likely to forget it. I told him gunfire would make me set off the gas. There was gunfire, but no gas. He’ll figure it out.”

  “Okay. Do you have any more plans?”

  “Yes. More probe-gate enchantments and a Boojum hunting spell.”

  “Good luck with those.”

  “Eh? I was thinking you could help me enchant more probe gates.”

  “I was thinking of handling some mail, phone calls, contracts, and closures. We’ve got final closures and deliveries to take. As much fun as it is to play your personal sniper, I’ve been putting off lawyers’ questions about the liquidation stuff.”

  “Well… all right. You’re excused. I’ll do what I can by myself.”

  “I have faith in you, my lord.”

  “Now cut that out!”

  “What? I believe you’ll perform miracles.”

  “Please stop.”

  “Something the matter, my dark angel?”

  “You’re not funny.”

  Yes, she is, Firebrand opined.

  Yes, she is, added my altar ego.

  “Yes, I am,” she countered.

  “I give up.”

  I gave up only in a limited sense. I still checked in on people and things.

  Trixie was fully recovered. She was also having a grand time practicing with her sword. There used to be ivy climbing along one side of the manor house. Not anymore. I’d worry about the ecological disaster of a pixie with a sharp object, but I know Trixie. She’ll lose interest soon enough.

  My pyrotechnic family was doing well. Tymara wanted to know when I would visit again. Tianna and Amber don’t ask because they know I don’t know. They’re all simply happy to see me.

  I also checked in with Heydyl. He was surprised and pleased to get a mirror call—I popped through shift-booths to do my base-touching. I haven’t figured out a cheap and easy way to make a magic mirror connection between universes.

  “Is this to encourage me for the next test?” he asked.

  “No, but I encourage you to do well on it. What test?”

  “I will be taking the Test of the Unfallen Drop.”

  I resolved to have a word with my altar ego. In the meantime, I did my best to keep my confusion from showing.

  “I have every confidence in you, Heydyl.”

  “You’re not going to tell me I should wait?”

  “Not if you feel ready for it.” Seemed like a safe remark.

  “Thing is,” he said, thoughtfully, “I’m not sure I am. I’m hurrying so I can go to the war, and hurry isn’t what the test is about.”

  “Maybe being in a hurry and not showing it—or not giving in to it—is what the test is all about.”

  “Is that a hint?”

  “It’s a question. If I answered a question, that would be a hint.”

  “Hmm. I’ll have to t
hink about that.”

  “Other than that, how are things?”

  “Busy. Deveas Beltar has forbidden sicaricudo until further notice. Those practicing for their healing ribbon are relieved of other duties to tend those recovering. Several of the unshelled are being rushed through their armor enchantment training, and the circle of shadow-skin is in constant use.”

  I realized I was going to have to have a longer talk with my altar ego then I thought. I’m not up to speed on my own religion.

  “But how are you?” I insisted. “I can get a report from anyone. I asked about you.”

  “Busy,” he repeated, smiling slightly. “I’m hoping to get to go, but I don’t think I’ll make it. I’ll probably be stuck on Temple duty.”

  “Oh?”

  “I haven’t got my shell, yet. I’m pretty far down the list. I’m still wearing steel even though I have a sword.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “I don’t suppose you’d make me a present of some armor?” he asked, half-jesting.

  “Maybe. We’ll see what progress you make.” Heydyl’s expression went from half-smiling to startled to grimly serious. I saw more than a little of my own face—back when I was human, anyway—in his, and wondered if I was ever as dangerously determined. Somehow, I doubt it.

  “I will do everything in my power,” he assured me.

  “It’s not your power I’m testing,” I told him.

  “It isn’t?”

  “Nope.”

  “What, then?”

  “You cannot test the qualities of a man by telling him what qualities you want him to display.”

  “Hmm. I’ll have to think about that.”

  “Do that,” I suggested, and signed off. I shifted back to Apocalyptica and went straight to the room of prayer wheels. The whirring of the spinning discs was loud to my ears.

  “Hey, you!” I called out.

  No need to shout. I’m right here.

  “What’s the Test of the Unfallen Drop? And what’s a circle of shadow-skin?”

  The Test of the Unfallen Drop is a test of patience, determination, and coordination. Two glasses are on pedestals. One full, one empty. There’s a long, narrow beam between them. The knight-candidate has to dip his naked finger in the water, collect a drop, walk the length of the beam, and touch the inside of the glass to let the water trickle down inside.