Born of Hatred

by Steve McHugh

  "You want me still so you can kill me," she said, and spat at me, missing by a few feet.

  I stood in front of her and rolled up the sleeves on my shirt, letting her watch the orange glyphs light up on my arms. "If I wanted to kill you..." A small sphere of flame appeared in the palm of my hand, and Stephanie's eyes opened as wide as possible. "...you'd already be cinders."

  The flame vanished, and I put on my coat. "You're going to give your friends in this town a message. They have forty-eight hours to leave. To run as far away as they can. Because in two days I'm going to come back, burn this entire fucking town to the ground, and piss on the ashes."

  Chapter 22

  New Forrest, England. Now.

  After the fight with the ghouls, I waited around long enough for the LOA emergency paramedics to turn up and check that everyone would be okay, before leaving and heading home.

  Agent Greaves was almost back on his feet by the time I left, and Olivia was nursing a sore, but healing, wound on her shoulder. Everyone got away with minimal injuries, a lucky break when it came to dealing with ghouls.

  I took the time to head home, get a shower, and wash off the grime from the incredibly long day. Dealing with ghouls, finding another murdered girl, searching Vicki's house, and interviewing Neil had left me feeling emotionally, if not physically, exhausted.

  Even so, after making an important call, I managed a few hours' sleep, only to be woken by someone banging continuously on my front door until I made my way from the bed to open it.

  "Hey, Tommy," I said, with all the joy that I could muster after just being woken. "Could you possibly be a little louder? I think there are some rivets in the house that you haven't worked loose."

  "Nice to see you, too," he said stepping inside, and closing the door behind him.

  "I don't think my kitchen can take another fridge raid," I told him as we made our way to the kitchen, where I made both of us a cup of white tea.

  "I'm not hungry," he said.

  "Okay, what's wrong? You're always hungry. Are Olivia and Kasey okay?"

  He nodded firmly. "Yes, thanks for that. You saved Olivia's life. And Kasey is... concerned for her mum. She'll be okay, though."

  I waved his thanks away. "Glad to hear it. We were all in the wrong place at the wrong time."

  "They've taken Olivia to the medical clinic at my office building. We've got some of the best trained people in the world. They want to keep her in for a few days to make sure that the neurotoxin has worked its way out of her system. Olivia's pissed off and wants to hurt something, but she'll live."

  "And Agents Greaves and Reid?" Agent Reid had been found unconscious, covered in his blood a few streets away from the police station. He'd been incredibly lucky.

  "Greaves is less than happy that he's under my people's watchful attention, but he's healing well. Reid was bitten by the ghoul who used to be Vicki. He's going to be in the infirmary for a day or so like Olivia."

  "How did you come to have such a good medical team?"

  "We did some work for a medical centre whose staff was getting harassed by a pissed off ex-employee and his friends. Apparently, trolls hold grudges. Who knew? I offered them a place to work without worry, whilst we dealt with it, and they ended up staying. So they work for me, but are pretty much their own little section of the business."

  "And I guess it helps having the people who are there for treatment being right next to the people who might look into such things without notifying Avalon."

  “The thought never crossed my mind.”

  "Why are you here? I assume it's not just to give me an update on Olivia and the rest, as good as it is to know they're all okay."

  Tommy's expression changed to one of seriousness in an instant. "Ghouls, Nate. There are goddamn ghouls and a lich in my city."

  "I know, Tommy," I assured him. "I made a few calls earlier today. I'm expected at the airfield in about two hours."

  Tommy chuckled. "Off to Canada?"

  I didn't need to answer. Tommy knew full well that the answer was yes.

  "Right, well, I'll go get ready and meet you there."

  I opened my mouth to argue, but thought better of it. If I'd said no, he'd only have been at the airfield waiting for me anyway. "Fine, meet me there in two hours exactly."

  "Done," Tommy said, dashing off and out of my home seconds later.

  The old airfield had been officially abandoned years ago, leaving the twelve-foot-high chain-link fence to guard nothing more than the grass, which broke through the tarmac, and the vines, which grew over an old hanger, threatening to consume it like a slow moving predator.

  The fence kept away anyone who might get too interested, or kids thinking that breaking in would be a good for a laugh. But it was just window dressing. Anyone getting past the fence would notice that the runway further into the compound was oddly free of any grass, and the tarmac was smooth and well maintained. And a close look at the front of the hanger would make it obvious that the vines had been allowed to grow in a very specific way, never obstructing the entrance.

  Military signs, bright yellow and black, each the size of a manhole cover, adorned the fence at regular intervals. They extolled the notion that anyone caught trespassing would be arrested and charged without fail. Some of them suggested armed guards were still patrolling the area.

  The airstrip was in fact fully functional all year long, and served as a very private landing spot in the south of England. It was staffed all year, too, although most of the workers actually stayed in an underground complex, only coming up to deal with those landing and taking off.

  Whenever someone landed, the place buzzed with activity. Whoever was arriving usually supplied their own security staff to maintain the area, which was made evident by the armed guards who stood at the entrance and waved me through.

  I took the bike into the open hanger and switched off the engine.

  "You took your damn time," Tommy said from a nearby chair, his feet up on the table beside him.

  I took notice of the sandwich in his hand, the wonderful smell of bacon wafted toward me and my mouth watered. "Yes, you look incredibly pained," I said.

  I turned and took in the jet that sat idly on one side of the huge hanger, and was surprised to see a young girl exit the plane. "This is awesome," she squealed and almost jumped down the stairs connecting the jet to the hanger floor ten feet below.

  "Kasey," I said with surprise, and turned to Tommy. "You decided it was a good idea to bring your daughter."

  Before he could answer, Kasey raced over to us. "What's the plane called?" she said with obvious excitement.

  "It's called a Pegasus, or a Pegasus 1488, to give it the full name."

  "It's amazing," she said. "I've never seen a plane like it."

  The Pegasus was an incredible feat of engineering. Its owner, like most of the truly powerful members of Avalon, was probably four or five generations of technology ahead of anything humans had access to. The jet was a sort of amalgamation of a Concorde at the front and an SR-71 Blackbird at the rear. I'd been inside it several times on long journeys, and was fully aware of the luxury it contained.

  "It has beds in there, Dad."

  "I know, Kase" he said with a smile. "She's a bit excited," he told me.

  "Never would have guessed. I thought eleven-year-olds were meant to be on their way to being permanently surly."

  "She likes flying." Tommy grinned. "Kase, why don't you go on board and pick yourself out a chair."

  She didn't need to be told twice, and was off like a shot, taking the steps two at a time until vanishing back inside the fuselage.

  "What the hell?" I asked.

  "I couldn't leave her with Olivia. It's too dangerous."

  "Does Olivia know whom we're going to see?"

  Tommy nodded.

  "Does Kasey?"

  He shook his head. "If I told her, she'd ask a million questions. And as it's a four hour flight. I'd rather not have to go the whole way
sitting with the Spanish inquisition."

  "She has a bunch of questions for me, doesn't she," I said with sudden realisation.

  "A whole notebook full," Tommy confirmed. "It's in her backpack. She's looking forward to it."

  "You could have stopped her, you know."

  "Could have, didn't want to."

  Before I could call Tommy a very rude name, a female flight attendant came over and informed us that we'd be leaving shortly. I thanked her and she smiled, flicking her long blonde hair off her shoulder before walking back to the jet.

  "How do you do that?" Tommy asked.

  "Do what?"

  "Have beautiful women want to drop their pants after talking to you?"

  I shrugged. "Didn't know they did. Must be my inherent charm."

  Tommy laughed all the way over to the jet. "Yeah, that must be it, the charm."

  The flight attendant was waiting for us inside the jet with another winning smile. She motioned for me to take a seat, and I selected one of the dozen black leather chairs that I knew to be as comfortable as they appeared.

  The door slowly closed, and the jet began to taxi to the runway as Tommy sat opposite his daughter, across the aisle from me.

  "You're Nathan Garrett," the flight attendant said, drawing my attention after I'd found myself looking out of the window.

  "Umm, yeah, that's me," I said.

  She bent down and hugged me tightly, her hair falling across my face and tickling my ear until she pulled away. "I just wanted to say thank you," she said.

  "No, thank you," I managed.

  "You don't know who I am, do you?"

  "Sorry," I said.

  "Nineteen forty-two, Berlin. You saved my life."

  I studied the woman's face, which I suddenly realised hadn’t changed in over seventy-years as an image flashed in my head. A woman being held by the throat by a man. A knife was in his hand, a Nazi insignia on his arm. The memory came flooding back to me in a rush. "I remember Berlin," I whispered.

  "You saved a lot of people that night. I've always wanted to thank you for it."

  "You're welcome," I managed, and she walked off behind a curtain at the rear of the fuselage.

  "Charm, my ass," Tommy said with a laugh. "I didn't know you were in Berlin during the war."

  "I get around," I said and noticed Kasey scribbling something in her notebook.

  She glanced up and caught the frown on my face. "I had a question about the second world war," she said, and went back to writing notes, causing Tommy to laugh.

  Chapter 23

  I am not a good flier. I don't panic or run around screaming, but I do get very tense and drink far too much alcohol. So it was probably for the best that the flight attendant who had kissed me earlier placed an eighteen-year-old bottle of Japanese goodness in front of me with a crystal tumbler. I knew it was crystal simply because no one who owns a jet as expensive as the one I was in supplies anything but the best in tableware.

  So, as we banked left, and I caught a glimpse of the ground, several thousand feet below me, I knocked back my third glass and poured another.

  "Flying is the safest form of travel, you know," Kasey said as she stared out the window.

  "So people tell me," I replied. "It doesn't make me any less thrilled about having to be up here."

  "Who are we going to see?" she asked with a smile on her face that I was certain was meant to melt my heart.

  "Does that work on your parents?"

  "Daddy," she said in a needy voice.

  "Yes, it works," Tommy said. "I'm going to sleep, so you're on your own, Kase." He glanced at me. "Good luck."

  Kasey made a humph-like noise, and crossed the aisle, taking a seat opposite me. She placed her notebook and pen on the table between us, opening it to the first page. "You said you would," she reminded me when she saw the trepidation on my face.

  "Okay, hit me with your best shot."

  "What attacked my mum?"

  "A ghoul," I said.

  "Is that what murdered those women?"

  I shook my head. "No, ghouls are... primal. But they're also intelligent and maintain their human brain power. It's just that now, they're more interested in causing pain and suffering."

  "Is my mum safe?"

  "She's surrounded by her agents; she's safer than we are up here."

  Kasey chuckled. "So, what's the difference between ghouls and zombies?"

  "Have you ever seen a zombie movie? The zombies either run or shamble slowly, but the main part is that they eat people, and those who have been bitten turn into zombies themselves."

  Kasey glanced over to Tommy, checking that he was asleep. "Yeah," she whispered.

  "Well, those movie zombies are a combination of two different species. Firstly, you've got zombies themselves. They're created when someone who has died forcefully has their soul shoved back inside them. Zombies do shamble, because their bodies don't work properly, but they couldn't eat anyone if they tried. They basically have the ability to move very slowly and talk. That's it."

  "They're not dangerous?"

  "Only to themselves. The process of raising a zombie is painful for the soul of the person being reanimated. It's frowned upon because it's a bit too close to torture for many in Avalon's liking. And in truth, very few people even bother, unless they're truly desperate for answers, because once you've forced a soul back into its body, the only way to send it back is to kill the person again."

  "And the second species?"

  "The second are called the barren. They used to be humans, before they were bitten by a ghoul."

  "Does that mean my mum...?"

  "No," I assured her quickly. "They only turn humans. In your mum's case the venom simply acted as a powerful paralysing agent. But in a human, it kills within a few minutes. And they come back... empty." I tried to think of the right way to explain it. "Humans who are turned this way only want to kill. That's it. In that respect, they're a lot like the zombies in the movies, the ones that can run. All they do is kill and feed. A bite won't turn you into a barren, but it will draw blood, which will let every single barren within a mile know that you're alive and bleeding."

  "And how are ghouls created?" Kasey asked, without looking up from her furious note taking.

  "Two ways. Either through very powerful blood magic, where you kill someone and then force the soul to stay inside the corpse, corrupting it until it changes into something malignant."

  "Or?"

  "Or you get a lich to do it."

  She looked up at that. "What's a... Lich?"

  For a second, I thought about brushing the question off, or lying to her, but I knew neither of those things would help. "They're monsters. Sorcerers who had themselves killed in a violent way, so that they could come back as something twisted and wrong."

  "Why would they do that?"

  "Some people use blood magic too much--the really vile stuff, sacrifices and really horrific curses. Dark magic that strong corrupts them, makes them paranoid. It drives them mad with anger against a perceived threat. These are people who are already insane before the magic does its work. Once that sort of power gets into your head, it's difficult to shake free. Someone with a lot of hatred and some power at their disposal comes across the ability to turn into a near un-killable monster. Some of them jump at the opportunity."

  "You think one of them is involved in these murders?" The scribbling in her notebook had long since ceased, replaced with a quiet silence as she paid utmost attention to my words.

  "I really hope not. But it's a possibility, and that's why we're flying across an ocean."

  Kasey didn't reply for a while. The flight attendant brought out a cheeseburger and fries for her, which allowed me to doze before I was woken by a jab in the arm.

  "I thought we'd finished," I said with a glance at my phone to check the time. We had a few hours left before landing in Toronto. I got the impression that Kasey knew exactly how to fill that time.

  "There are o
ther things I want to know."

  I glanced at Tommy who was still asleep. The bastard.

  "If you're going to work with my dad, I need to know more about you," she continued.

  "Okay, go nuts."

  "Have you ever met anyone famous?"

  I raised an eyebrow. "You mean like actors and actresses? Because I have no idea."

  "No, I mean famous people in history. Have you met any?"

  "A few kings and queens of various countries, alongside a few popes, emperors and people of varying levels of influence. I've met Leonardo Da' Vinci a few times--nice guy, if a little skittish."

  "Skittish?"

  "His brain is always working three or four sentences ahead of everyone else. It makes him difficult to talk to for any length of time, as he'll often say something and then run off to get some paper and a pencil to draw or write."

  "Was he human?"

  "Leonardo? No, not human. He was, sorry is, an alchemist."

  "He's alive?"

  "Was last time I saw him a few years ago."

  Kasey wrote something in her book. "Anyone else?"

  "I've met most of the Olympians. A few Titans, too."

  "What happened to Zeus?"

  The question surprised me, not least because it wasn't a conversation I'd had with too many people. "Don't know," I said. "No one has seen him for about three hundred years. Most assume he's dead, but no one is really sure. Why do you ask?"

  "Someone at school said that he was murdered by Hera so that she could let Ares take over his businesses."

  "That might be true, but tell your friend never to say such things in public. People who have voiced their discontent with the official version of Zeus's disappearance have sometimes vanished themselves."

  "You think those responsible would go after children?" Kasey asked, clearly shocked.

  "I think at least a few of the parents at your school probably work for Hera or her cronies. These things have a way of getting back to them, and eventually to Hera, too."