Promise: Caulborn #2

by Nicholas Olivo

  I knelt at the head of the first Urisk, Daimin’s wife, presumably, and put my hand on her forehead. I had positioned her body so that Daimin couldn’t see the injury at the back of her head, and focused my attention on that. Sending in a pulse of energy to kill the maggots was easy enough, but I had to be delicate so I didn’t accidentally hurt her. I was preparing to begin when Daimin piped up.

  “Lord,” he said, his eyes suddenly shining with happiness. “Lord, whatever you’re doing, it’s working!” He pointed at the Urisk children, whom I hadn’t done anything to.

  The children moved spasmodically, their limbs twitching against the floor. Their eyes flew open and flared red. They shrieked, their mouths now filled with row upon row of razor-sharp teeth. Knowing that wasn’t standard Urisk dental work, I braced myself for a fight as they flopped over and pulled themselves up on all fours.

  Daimin cried out and tried to run to his children as they convulsed, the bones in their arms and legs breaking and reforming. They looked sort of like hairless dogs now, snarling as their jaws separated and a third row of teeth came in. They lunged at me with more force than should have been possible. They must’ve still possessed some measure of telekinesis and used that to augment their leaps.

  In Boston, this sort of thing might’ve scared me. Here on the Bright Side, I’m literally a god. It’s kind of hard to get the drop on someone who can alter the laws of physics on a whim. I made the air in front of me solidify into a sheet of diamond, and they struck it with yelps that were more animal than humanoid. I wove the diamond over them, encasing them in an indestructible dome.

  “Lord!” Lotholio squeaked.

  I spun and put a shield up around him and Daimin. The third Urisk, the mother, had not turned into a demonic wolf. Her limbs and jaws had extended, but she was even ganglier and taller than she’d been before. Her tongue, covered in purple and blue pustules, snaked from her mouth and twitched about as if it had a life of its own. Tentacles burst from her arms, and snaked toward my neck. I dodged to the side, my switchblade dropping into my hand, and slashed through the tentacles. The mutant screamed and whirled away from me, a blast of fire shooting out from her mouth.

  I waved the flames away and willed the ground beneath her feet to turn to quicksand. She flailed against it, but that only made her sink faster. Once she was up to her neck. I solidified the ground around her, then put a dome of diamond over her head.

  What the hell had happened here? Daimin was wailing, throwing himself against my shield as he tried to run to his family. I couldn’t think straight with all the noise he was making, and I couldn’t risk him hurting himself, so I pointed at him and willed him to fall asleep. Lotholio caught him and gently lowered him to the ground, and I removed the shield.

  I rubbed my temples as Lotholio stepped up beside me. “Will they be well, Lord?” he asked.

  “They will be,” I said. “I need a moment, Loth.”

  He bowed and stepped back as I let out a breath. Now that no one was trying to kill me, I could focus on the problem. I dulled the injured Urisks’ pain receptors and put them to sleep. Healing energy flowed from me into them: bones popped and snapped back into their original configurations; extra teeth faded away; and after a few minutes, I’d restored them to perfect health. A few extra probes told me that no maggots remained in their systems.

  “Loth, come here, please.” He stepped up to me, and I touched the viscous amber that was on his skin, learning how it was made. Another wave of my hand and Daimin’s family was re-encased in chrysalises as if nothing had happened.

  I got to my feet and woke Daimin. He looked around, obviously disoriented. Then he saw his family and scrambled over to them.

  “They are fine, Daimin,” I said. “Restored to health and the safety of their shells.”

  Daimin flung himself at my feet and pressed his head against the ground. “Thank you, Lord Corinthos, thank you!” The level of faith radiating off him rivaled Lotholio. I bade him rise and smiled.

  “Be blessed, Daimin,” I said. “And know that I keep the Urisk safe.” As Daimin bowed and praised my name, I gathered up the maggot-filled amber balls I’d pulled from the chrysalises earlier. I conjured a sort of viewer into the first ball, magnifying the image of the maggots thousands of times until they could be seen clearly.

  “What are these, Lord?” Lotholio asked. “I have never seen anything like them.”

  “I have,” I replied. “They’re paranormal silk worms.” Apparently they’d eat more than just the dead. How the hell had these things gotten onto the Bright Side? Maybe they’d hitched a ride on my clothes? I slammed my fist against my thigh and Lotholio jumped. “This cannot be allowed to happen again,” I said through clenched teeth. My mind raced. I toyed with the idea of somehow altering the ooze the Urisk made to create the chrysalis, but I wasn’t sure what that would do to them. Instead, I knelt down and pressed my hands against the floor of the hut.

  Aegeon, I sent.

  I stand ready, Lord.

  Good. You’re going to have a few new friends soon. I sent my mind into the ground and churned the atomic bits of metal and earth into what I wanted. A few moments later, a colony of crystalline spiders rushed from a small mound in the floor. About thirty of them crawled up to the ceiling and stopped as they all turned to regard me.

  “Lord,” Lotholio said. “What are those?”

  “These are Watchers,” I said. “They will watch over each chrysalis once it’s formed and if a worm tries to penetrate it, they’ll pop on and eat them. They’re mentally linked with Aegeon, so if one of them detects a worm infestation, it will tell Aegeon, who will in turn tell you.” I relayed this on to Aegeon, who acknowledged his understanding.

  Lotholio swiped at a patch of ooze that was running from his side. The amber was thicker, more like molasses, and its surface crackled as Lotholio brushed at it. “My shell comes, Lord,” he whispered. We said goodbye to Daimin and walked to the cathedral, Lotholio leaving soggy amber footprints. His limbs seemed stiff, but he politely refused my help as we went to his chambers on the second floor. The ooze was glistening on his skin and in his feathers. “I will see you soon, Lord,” he said. The amber sheen began to harden and envelop him in its protective cocoon. I set some Watchers over him and rubbed my temples. I wanted to stay and watch over all the Urisk personally, but I had business to attend to back in Boston. Reluctantly, I left the Bright Side.

  The one downside to the Bright Side is there’s no cellphone coverage there. Once I was back in Boston, I pulled out my phone and called Doc Ryan. “If one of those worms eats living paranormal tissue, the worms take control of the body,” I told him. “I’ve got a sample of them I’d like to bring by for analysis.” I held the ball of amber that I’d pulled from Daimin in my left hand. Part of me wanted to pitch it into the ocean and drown the hateful little things. But knowing my luck, they’d probably infest some sea monster, and then the Caulborn would have to fight off lousy Godzilla-wanna-be villains on top of everything else.

  I caught a cab back to HQ, dropped off the amber with Doc, and met up with Megan and Herb. We all piled into Megan’s Tercel and headed over to Monument Square. Police cruisers were parked along the road, and a handful of barricades had been erected. I saw Frank Grady talking to some reporters and he waved us past the barriers.

  “—just some training exercises,” Grady said. “The BPD is committed to ensuring the public’s safety in any circumstances, and these new training exercises help ensure we stay sharp. The park will be open to the public again this evening.” I gave Frank a wave as Megan, Herb, and I walked further into the park and away from the public’s field of vision.

  The Bunker Hill monument loomed above us, its shadow a long straight line across the grass as the sun set behind it. Most of the park was covered with a couple inches of snow, the main exception being the walking paths, which had been plowed. It looked like the police had successfully evacuated the park. Good. I didn’t want any innocents involve
d with what was about to happen.

  “So how’s this work?” I asked as we got out of the car. “Do we just hang out and wait for them to show up?”

  “Not exactly,” Herb said. “I’m going to lay out some items that every draugr would’ve loved in life. Then I’ll enchant them with the same sort of magic that was on your pirate coin. The draugr will sense that and believe those items are part of their hoard.”

  “So how do you know what’s important to them?” I asked. “Is there some kind of Advanced Necromancy course that you take to learn about this stuff?”

  Megan’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that’d be handy. In fact, I think all Caulborn agents should have to take classes like that. Herb, is there a class like that? Could you teach it?”

  Herb shook his head. “I’m not much of a teacher,” he said to Megan. To me, he said, “Think about this part of the world. It’s a melting pot. People from tons of different countries came in and set up shop in Boston. Irish, Italian, German, Vietnamese, Chinese, French Canadian, Spanish, English, you name it, and that’s not counting the multitude of Native American tribes that were here first. Each one of those peoples brought over their own unique culture and superstitions. With those superstitions came undead. I had to become an expert on all manner of folklore in order to be ready for what’s out there.”

  I could respect that.

  “Vincent, your job will be to keep them occupied once they’re here. Megan, I’ll need you with me, in case anything slips by Vincent.”

  “Roger Wilco,” she smiled.

  Herb grabbed a worn blue duffel bag out of the trunk and set it on the ground. I could barely make out a faded Adidas logo on the bag’s side. What came out of the bag definitely wasn’t what a typical athlete would carry to the gym: a battered helmet with a pair of yellowed animal horns pointing up; a short sword with a notched blade and worn leather scabbard; a mummified hawk, complete with a tiny leather hood for the bird’s head and a cuff for the falconer’s wrist; and a leather sack that jangled as if it were full of coins. Herb muttered phrases in a language I didn’t know as he placed each one on the ground. A shimmering orange aura flickered about them for a moment and then vanished. Herb’s eyes flickered along with them. He stepped back and surveyed his work. “That’s it,” he said. “Now we just need them to take the bait.”

  “How long do you think before they can sense it?”

  “Not long,” Megan said, pointing to a blue mist that was rising from the ground ten feet away. “Wow, Herb, you’re good.”

  Herb blushed. He actually blushed. We were about to fight some serious badass undead, and he was blushing at a compliment. I shook my head. “You guys stay sharp,” I said.

  Herb’s eyes glowed a brighter orange. “Wow,” he said. “Even in this mist state, they’re incredibly powerful. I’ve never seen anything like this before.” He chewed on his lip for a minute. “I’m going to have to get creative,” he said, half to himself.

  “Well, whatever you’re thinking of, do it fast,” I said, trying to ignore the brand on my arm that was now burning beneath my bomber’s sleeve. The undead had formed in front of me and drawn themselves up to a height of seven feet. Had they gotten taller? Let’s start this off on the right foot, I thought, sending a telekinetic punch into both of the undead’s crotches.

  They doubled over and let out low, painful groans, and I allowed myself a smile. Very few beings, undead or not, could shrug off a telekinetic nut shot. Herb was already chanting, the characters in the air appearing in translucent green this time.

  I ran to the left, shooting off lances of fire at the undead. “C’mon, guys, try and keep up.” The draugr threw their heads back and their bodies grew. They’d doubled in size in less than five seconds. They charged after me, the ground quaking beneath their feet. Part of the reason we’d chosen this place for our attack was that there wasn’t anything for the draugr to throw at us.

  I realized a flaw in this plan at that moment. While the park didn’t provide much in the way of things for them to throw at me, the wide-open space let the draugr take full advantage of their ability to increase in size. One of the draugr leapt at me, shot into the air, sailed over my head with plenty of room to spare, and landed in front of me. The impact of its landing was like being at the epicenter of an earthquake and knocked me to the ground. The draugr spun and kicked out a leg as thick as a tree trunk. I brought up a telekinetic shield, which dampened the impact, but didn’t stop me from being launched off the ground like a football and hurtling through the icy air.

  The frozen, snow-covered ground did very little to cushion my fall. In fact, I dug a shallow trench in the snow as I skidded to a halt, snow and ice bunching up inside my coat and down the back of my pants. My landing scared a group of pigeons that had been pecking about in the snow for bread, and the birds shot up into the bare branches of a nearby tree, squawking at me. A part of me thought this might be a good time to take a rest, slow it down a bit. Instead, I groaned and hauled myself to my feet.

  “Vincent, get down!” Megan hollered. I dropped back into the depression I’d just made as a park bench whistled through the air where my head had just been. I stood corrected—there wasn’t much for them to throw at us. Megan fired off three shots from her 9mm. I risked a quick glance over my shoulder to see one of the draugr hit the ground, its kneecap cleanly blasted off.

  The other draugr leapt at me again. I telepathically compelled the pigeons to leave the tree and fly at the draugr’s face. They streaked from their branches like tiny missiles, and I was grateful that pigeons didn’t migrate south for the winter. Unfortunately, as they got closer to the draugr, I felt their sanity shatter and the psychic backlash from that was enough to stagger me. There were another three shots and the draugr buckled. I glanced over at Megan who shifted her aim and fired twice more. The draugr shimmered into mist, and the bullets whizzed harmlessly through it. My eyes were drawn back to Megan as she rolled her wrist and her gun flickered. It looked like the same gun, but I knew this was her quick reload trick: pull a second gun from her pocket dimension with a full clip and get on with life.

  A glowing string of green characters nearly four feet long shimmered in the air above Herb’s head, and the necromancer was furiously adding more. His face was beet red, his eyes were screwed shut, and his voice was strained.

  The mist of the nearest draugr began to coalesce. I telekinetically latched onto the metal frame of the shattered park bench and flung it at the draugr, aiming for where I expected its head to appear. Instead, the bench sailed through empty air and shattered against a large snow-covered rock. When the coalescence completed, instead of the human-shaped undead I was expecting, a giant undead bull stared at me, its eyes glowing red.

  “The hell?” I heard myself ask as the undead beast charged me. The bull’s gray hide had been flayed, and I watched, frozen, in sick fascination as its dead, exposed muscles pumped as it barreled toward me. Something tackled me and the bull tore past. I could feel the vibrations of its hooves through the frozen earth, and the stench it left in its wake made me want to retch.

  “Okay, that’s just gross,” Megan said as she pulled herself off me. She’d sprinted from Herb, knocked me aside and now had her pocket cannon out. She sent off a pulse of shimmering blue light that seared toward the bull, which shifted into mist before it hit. “Sugar,” Megan cursed. She took off at a full run to Herb, the second draugr having taken humanoid shape behind him. She fired off two quick blasts, the first grazing the draugr’s left arm, the second blowing the arm off at its elbow.

  The draugr roared, so loud and deep that I felt it in my chest. The sound staggered Herb, who stumbled forward with his hands over his ears. The glowing green character he’d been crafting fizzled out. The string of other characters, now five feet long, became blurry as he lost focus. The one-armed draugr brought its hand down like a hammer to strike Megan, but she was suddenly on the other side of the draugr. I blinked. It was like she’d teleported.

>   Megan seemed just as surprised as the draugr and I were, but she recovered first, spun, and blasted the thing full on in the chest with her pocket cannon. The hole it made was the size of a pumpkin. Her blaster whined; it was out of power. I took the opportunity to telekinetically latch onto the twisted broken frame of the park bench and hurl a length of it like a spear. It streaked toward the draugr, who turned into mist. My projectile was now heading straight for Megan.

  Time slowed down. I could clearly see the trajectory the metal would take. In less than a second, it would impale Megan through the chest. I couldn’t stop it. Shit shit shit.

  And then, just for an instant, a figure clad completely in black appeared in front of Megan and took the bar right in the chest. Just as suddenly, the figure was gone. I gaped, and then had to push down a swell of giddy laughter. The Keepers, it seemed, were holding up their end of the bargain.

  Time returned to normal speed, and my heart slid back down my throat to where it belonged. Herb, still on his knees, cried out and threw both his arms forward, the string of characters sharpening back into focus as he regained his composure. They spiraled out and sped through the air to bore into the nearest draugr-mist. The mist instantly formed into a giant undead who bellowed in what seemed both pain and surprise as the letters flashed all over its skin. Then cracks of light began to appear in its flesh. Those cracks broke open with audible snaps, accompanied by more screams, these all pain.

  The draugr exploded in a cloud of blue and green mist. I threw up a shield to protect us from a shower of fleshy debris. It splattered wetly against the wall of force. Looking at the goo, I was thankful I’d gotten the shield up in time. No telling if a stain like that would come out of my bomber.