Promise: Caulborn #2

by Nicholas Olivo

  And ignited a spark.

  The explosion rumbled throughout the entire Bright Side, and I watched the mountains to the west collapse. Tremors rippled across the land, but I deflected them from the Urisk city with a wave of my hand. I sent my sight racing across the Bright Side, searching for Treggen. I would crush his heart from here once I laid eyes on the bastard.

  In the sky above, the moon and suns moved out of alignment. Natural light crept back into the Bright Side. I stayed there, searching for Treggen and watching over the Urisk for hours, until both suns were visible again. Treggen was nowhere to be found. I ground my teeth and let out a deep breath. I would find him, someday. And I would kill him. Slowly.

  Some of the Urisk’s chrysalises began to melt, the amber running to the ground in thick rivulets. They stretched as if waking from a satisfying sleep.

  Lord? Aegeon asked. He sounded disoriented. When did you arrive?

  I had no concept of time during the eclipse. Had it been afternoon? Night? “Earlier,” I said. “Are you okay?”

  The Watchers and I stand ready, Lord.

  “Good. The Urisk are waking.”

  I found Lotholio toweling amber goo from his shoulders in the cathedral and filled him in on what had happened. I’d already repaired the damage to the city, but now we needed to help the people grieve. I was especially worried about Daimin, but he was still encased several hours after most of the other Urisk had awoken. I asked Lotholio to break the news to him and headed back to Boston.

  Once I stepped through Aviorla, I caught a cab back to the office. I needed to see if Gears had been able to translate the page I’d left him earlier. A short elevator ride later and I was standing in his workshop. “Gears?” I called out. No answer. I was about to leave when I caught sight of the cardboard box on his table. Gears had told me this was some very sensitive equipment, but it was covered by a plain old cardboard box. How sensitive could it really be? If it were really sensitive, he’d need something better than cardboard, right? What the hell was under there?

  Curiosity got the best of me, and I found myself hopscotching over the discarded electronic components on the floor. I made it to the workbench without killing myself and gave another quick glance around the room. No sign of Gears. I carefully lifted the box up and found myself staring at a human brain in a jar. Wires and electrodes ran from its base to the computer that hummed on the table.

  “Vinnie? What the heck are you doing?”

  “Gah!” I started and dropped the box with a hollow thunk. Gears stood in the doorway, a pack of Twinkies in his hand. He stared at me for a moment, then sighed and closed the door to the shop.

  “I asked you not to look at that,” he said sternly.

  I looked at the floor. “Sorry, Gears. I couldn’t help myself.”

  He snorted. “I know how that works.” I looked up in time to see him hoist himself up onto one of the far worktables and then hop across them until he was standing on the bench with the brain.

  “Is this Millie von Hassen?” I asked. Gears nodded. Millie von Hassen was the mother of the gremlin race. She’d been killed by golems in Treggen’s employ, and her brain had been removed so he could draw knowledge directly from it like a giant flash drive. “I thought she was buried a few weeks back.”

  “Her body was buried, but not this,” he gestured to the brain. “They’d put it in the casket along with her body, but I swiped it. I didn’t want to see it go to waste.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Gears sighed. “The Mother knew all sorts of things, Vinnie. She created more than just gremlins, you know. She made golems and had knowledge of all kinds of folklore. Using Kira Leevan’s techniques to gather information directly from neural tissue, I’ve been able to learn a great deal about her life and about her other creations.”

  “How’s this work?” I asked. “I can’t imagine it turns her thoughts and memories into a book to read.”

  Gears shook his head. “No, you’re right. It’s more like a psychedelic multimedia show. You see pictures of what she saw, sometimes there are sounds that she heard, too. There’s other data, graphs that register touch sensations or smells, chemical equations that show what she tasted when she ate. It’s so overwhelming that I’m not sure how Leevan ever used it.” He shook his head. “But the point is, I knew the Mother very well. Because of that, a lot of the stimuli makes sense to me.” His ears drooped. “There are other sensations as well. Affection and regret. They come across as colors that serve as a backdrop to the images and sounds.” He leaned his head against the jar.

  “You found how she felt about you?” I asked softly.

  “Turns out I was her favorite,” he whispered. “Until I turned on her. It seems like she understood, though. Her later years are laced with regret for how she treated us.” The glass jar plinked as he tapped a claw against it. “Galahad doesn’t know about this. Please don’t tell him yet. A man of faith like that, well, I’m not sure how he’d feel about what I’m doing.”

  I mimed zipping my lips. “No problem.”

  Gears gave me a smile and then turned back to his workstation. He tapped a monitor, the one that was still running simulations on how someone had gotten in to plant the cameras. “The other thing I’ve been looking for is when Treggen supposedly contacted the Mother and recruited Axlesnapper for espionage.”

  “Supposedly? Treggen flat out told me that he’d done that.”

  Gears turned to me, his eyes wide. “Gee, Vinnie,” he said in an innocent tone. “I can’t imagine a bad guy ever lying, can you?”

  “Touché, Gearstripper.”

  Gears flashed a grin before turning back to the monitor. “Thing is, I can’t find any times when they met. I’ve found memories of the Mother and Kira Leevan, but never with Treggen. In fact, I haven’t even been able to find any mentions of Treggen in there. Kira Leevan mentioned Robert Maxwell once or twice, but that’s all.”

  “Your mother was suffering from Alzheimer’s,” I said. “Maybe those memories are gone.”

  Gears shook his head. “Leevan’s techniques work exactly as advertised. I can get at memories from any part of her brain, from any time. There’s no degradation or anything like that.” He turned to me. “Vinnie, I don’t think that Treggen ever talked to the Mother or Axlesnapper. Someone else planted those cameras.”

  I rubbed my chin. “What about Nathan Singravel?”

  Gears froze. “The traitor,” he said flatly.

  “Yeah, him.” Nathan Singravel had sold Caulborn secrets to several of our enemies, including Treggen. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of him before. “He was released from Ashgate right before that whole mess with Treggen started. He’d know the layout of the place as well as you do.”

  Gears started to nod, then shook his head. “No, Mist would’ve scented Nathan. Even if he figured out how to bypass my security, he wouldn’t have gotten past her nose.” Mist, Kristin’s Fylgiar, is a sort of invisible dog with hyper-acute senses.

  “Damn, you’ve got a point there.”

  “I’ll keep working on it,” Gears said, tearing open the Twinkies package and taking a huge bite from one of the cakes. “Something’s bound to pop sooner or later.” As he brushed yellow crumbs from his coveralls, a series of chirps and warbles came from one of the computers to our left. “Finally,” Gears said. He pulled out a keyboard shelf and tapped out a series of commands. The monitor in front of us switched to a view of green characters streaming down in vertical columns.

  “You watching The Matrix?”

  Gears snorted. “This is the Mother’s work. I’ve had her decoding that page you brought in earlier. It was one of the most sophisticated ciphers I’ve ever seen. What you’re looking at there is her trying to make a pattern out of every known form of communication to crack this one. And now she’s done it.”

  Gears tapped out a few more commands and the columns of green characters began to freeze and fade, leaving behind a message in plain English. It re
ad:

  Should standard defensive measures be deemed insufficient, relocate subject MEGAN HAYES to Outside, at coordinates specified below. Place her in stasis, using standard humanoid settings. This will ensure she will not age nor suffer from any mental trauma. Set Occupant 664 as guardian to prevent physical damage. Her condition will remain “fine” so long as these measures are taken and thus satisfy our bargain with the godling.

  There was a series of numbers at the bottom of the page. Gears turned from the monitor and looked at me. “Vinnie, are you the godling they mentioned?”

  I swallowed. “Yeah, Gears. I made a mistake by going to these guys for help protecting Megan.”

  Gears’s face was a mask of confusion. “Protect her from what? Megan’s tough and smart. She can take care of herself.”

  I didn’t want to get into the details right now. “Long story. Where is this?” I asked, pointing to the coordinates.

  Gears looked at me for a long moment before turning back to the keyboard and tapping in the coordinates. He frowned and tapped again. A third time. “Whoa.” When a gremlin says whoa like that, there’s a good chance something really mind blowing is about to happen. That, or the building’s about to explode. I hoped it was the former. “I don’t think these coordinates are on Earth, Vinnie.” He tapped a few more times. “They might not even be in this universe.”

  “So I need to not only find out where this is, but then I also need a way go get there.” My mind raced. I could adjust where a phasilion opened, but they could only open between Earth and the Bright Side. I’d been unable to successfully make portals of my own. Maybe I could ask Forculus for help?

  “Thanks, Gears, I’ll catch up with you later.” I left the office and caught the T back to my apartment.

  I sprinted up the stairs and shot into my apartment, coming to a screaming halt in my bedroom. The clock said it was quarter to midnight. I wondered what kind of hours the Olympians kept. Only one way to find out. “All right,” I said to my Commander Courageous action figure. “I need you to get a message to Forculus. Please ask him to contact me as soon as possible.”

  “This fast enough for you?” said a voice from behind me.

  I leaped a foot in the air and collided with the dresser. Commander Courageous toppled into a dish of pocket change. I spun to see Forculus calmly reclining in Petra’s rocking chair.

  “You could warn a person,” I said, crossing my arms.

  “Nah, this is way more fun. The look on your face,” he made an exaggerated expression of surprise, “ah, now that’s priceless.” Gods must get off on surprising other beings, because Orcus did something like this to me once, too, popping in behind me and generally scaring the bejeezus out of me. I wasn’t amused then, either. Forculus let out a breath and got to his feet. “But enough fun. Why’d you want to see me?”

  I hastily explained the situation. “So I need you to help me figure out where this Outside place is, and then show me how to open a portal there.”

  Forculus put up his hands. “Sorry, Vincent, you’re on your own with this one.”

  “What? Forculus, my partner—”

  “Is perfectly fine, as you requested,” he said. The joviality left his face and he pointed at my chest. “You’re dicking around with Orcus, Vincent. Just because he’s the equivalent of a deific lawyer doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous. If anything, a lawyer god is more dangerous than a bunch of lightning-throwing ones. I’m not touching this with a ten-foot pole.” I clenched my fists. Forculus regarded my expression, genuine confusion on his face. “I don’t get it. You’re off the hook, Vincent. What’s the big deal?”

  “A woman is being denied her life right now, and it’s my fault.”

  “So what? How are things bad for her? She’s safe. No sickness, no aging, you’re in the clear.”

  “It’s not fair to her,” I said.

  Forculus rolled his eyes at me. “Now you sound like your father. He got attached to mortals, too. They’re just mortals, Vincent. Their very existence is temporary. In the grand scheme of things, this woman is insignificant. So what if she sleeps for her entire existence? If you want to look at it like that, at least she’s not doing anything destructive, and nothing bad will ever happen to her. And to top that off, you figured out the mother of all loopholes. If Homer were alive today, he’d write that into a ballad.”

  “She’s a person, Forculus. She has hopes and dreams, and she deserves a chance to live those out.”

  “She’s a mortal, Vincent,” Forculus replied, exasperated. “Mortals are good for one thing: granting us power. They’re like bees; they make honey, and we take it. Sometimes we farm them. Sometimes we find them wild. Either way, their only purpose is to give us something useful.” He laughed when he saw my expression. “Oh, don’t get all high and mighty on me, godling. Look me in the eye and tell me you aren’t the least bit excited about the powers your followers bestow upon you. Tell me that you don’t get a bit of a thrill when you realize they may be able to give you new abilities or powers. Tell me that you genuinely listen to all their prayers and help each one of them.”

  The smile he gave me was absolutely wicked. “Or, perhaps instead you give generic blessings in exchange for their prayers? Put their minds at ease without actually solving their problems? Let them think you’re listening when, in fact, you’re just replenishing your power? Hmm?”

  “You don’t get it,” I said through clenched teeth.

  “Guess I don’t,” he replied with a shrug. “And I’ve no desire to. Good luck with whatever you decide, Vincent.” He opened a portal and was gone.

  I stood in my bedroom, fuming. Forculus’s attitude was typical of an Olympian deity. The vast majority of them saw humans as pawns or playthings. I’d been stupid to even hope for his help. After a few minutes of focused breathing, I was able to get my temper under control. There had to be a way to fix this. As I struggled to come up with something, my phone chirped out the theme to Firefly. “Hey, Gears,” I said.

  “Vinnie, does your ‘Open Sesame Seed’ trick use extradimensional energies?”

  I decided not to address the “seed” part of that question. “Yeah, why?”

  “Because I just found mention in the Caulborn archives of a device that can channel and purify that sort of energy. John Hays Hammond Jr., Vinnie. John Hammond was working on it.”

  “Should I know that name?”

  Gears’s voice was incredulous. “He was the father of the remote control. Held over four hundred patents. He was a total genius, Vinnie, and I think he might have designed a device that you could use to open a portal to this Outside place.”

  “Holy shit. Can you build it?”

  “I could if I had the schematics. The archives just say that agents back in the 1940s were keeping tabs on Hammond, and that he’d made some progress on a device that channeled that sort of energy. Unfortunately, we don’t have copies of his work here.”

  “Where do they have copies?”

  “That’s the best part,” Gears said, his voice rising an octave in excitement. “Hammond had a castle, an actual castle, built in Gloucester. We can be there in half an hour.”

  “Then let’s go on a field trip,” I said.

  Gears squeed. “Will do, Vinnie. See you in a bit.”

  Okay, this was progress. Of course, even if I could control the energy necessary to open the portal, I still had no idea where to open it. This had been one hell of a week. Keepers, grave robberies, undead pirates…

  Pirates. Pirates had navigators on their ships. And I knew a guy who was really good at dealing with pirate ghosts. I fumbled out my phone and dialed Herb Wallenby’s number. I got that sickening “it’s important but I’m going to have to leave a voicemail” feeling on the third ring, but then Herb picked up.

  “Herb, it’s Vincent Corinthos. I know where Megan is.”

  “Where? Is she safe? Let’s go get her right now!”

  “Easy, big fella,” I said. “I know where she is, b
ut I don’t know how to get there. Can you summon up a ship’s navigator who could read a set of coordinates that were outside of this dimension?”

  “Gosh,” Herb said quietly. “That would have to be one heck of a navigator.” He paused. “Yes, yes I can. It will require a relic, though.”

  “Where is it?”

  “Hammond Castle, over in Gloucester.”

  “You’re joking,” I said.

  “No, that’s our best bet. Why?”

  “I’m heading there later tonight.” I told Herb what time to meet me and hung up. We might pull this off yet. Hang on, Megan, I’m going to make this right.

  I got back to HQ and rounded up Gearstripper. Five minutes later, we were in the lobby. Jake pulled out the special backpack Gearstripper rides in when we take him places. Gears moved Jake’s water bottle aside as he pulled out a fistful of candy bars from the big man’s desk. He was humming the theme to Star Wars.

  “You’re in a good mood. Usually you hate riding in the backpack,” I said.

  “That was before Leslie fixed it up,” Gears said as he held open the bag. “The backpack’s main compartment is way better insulated now, and it’s velvet lined. There’s a little beanbag for me to sit on and a hard plastic case that keeps me from getting squished. She even sewed in a little pocket so I could put in a portable wireless hotspot.” Gears’s sharp-toothed grin would’ve looked menacing if I hadn’t known him better. “It’s super comfy, Vinnie.”

  Jake got my attention and gestured at a monitor on his desk. He pointed at a pudgy man who was squinting up at the camera and raised his eyebrows. “That’s Herb. He’s cool, Jake. Buzz him in.”

  Jake complied and a moment later, Herb walked in. “Hello,” he said to Jake, who nodded. Jake’s not much of a talker. Herb turned his attention to me. “Is this the technological genius?”

  “That’d be me, actually,” Gearstripper said, popping up onto the desk. He held out a tiny three-fingered hand. “Name’s Gearstripper.”