by DC Malone
“Now, how about we do something productive?” I said, while Carl coughed and sputtered as he tried to fill his lungs with air.
“What do you suggest?” Luka’s tone wasn’t exactly petulant, but he certainly didn’t seem very pleased that Carl was still drawing breath.
“We can start by getting some of those answers you were trying to choke out of Carl here. From there…”
“You needn’t—” Carl sucked in another long, shuddering breath. “You needn’t bother. I’ll tell you nothing.”
“But you’ve already told us so much,” I said, raising a finger to count off the points. “For one thing, we now know that Gladys Freemantle is still alive, contrary to what Luka and everyone else associated with the Congregation believes.”
Carl pressed his lips together in a grim line of defiance, but I could see the truth in his face all the same. He was too tired and in too much pain to hide his feelings now.
“And for another,” I continued. “You’ve hinted at the purpose of the revenants… They’re here to make sure no one from the Congregation can oppose this plan you and Gladys concocted, right?”
Carl snorted, then looked past me to the door. Again, it was just as good as an answer. His reaction was genuine, and I could see that I had the details wrong where the revenants were concerned.
“No… no, that’s not it.” I paced around to the other side of the bar and considered what I knew. The Bessons had been visited and fed upon by one of the revenants. But if Carl was being honest, they were apparently still alive. Which meant the creature’s purpose wasn’t to kill them or use them up until they were as good as dead…
How was it that Carl had put it? That the Bessons were only a small part of the group, and that Maggie wasn’t taking the conversion as well as Mark…
“You’re using the revenants you have to make more, right?” I didn’t expect an answer, and I didn’t get one. “You’re building an army, but not with the purpose of taking on the Congregation… you’re trying to swell your numbers so that Gladys’s world domination plan makes more sense. If the Gifted have power and numbers on their side, then what’s to stop us?”
“Us?” Carl looked at me for the first time.
I shrugged. “In a manner of speaking,” I replied, quickly averting my gaze.
I knew he was likely to see right through my ploy, but I also knew he was a man who played the probabilities. What would he read in my response? A one percent chance that I would switch sides and support his cause? A ten percent chance?
I considered it myself. I thought I knew the kind of man Carl was, and the thought of throwing in with him was mostly in the realm of fiction. But what kind of person was Gladys? A power-hungry megalomaniac, or a revolutionary who wanted to see her people in control of a world that, arguably, was being run into the ground by the current regime? Was it time to see the real power in the hands of others—people like me?
And when Carl looked at me and gauged the numbers, did he see someone who was a hundred percent certain or someone who was on the fence?
“So, the way I see it,” I said after a moment. “We know quite a lot about the situation, and there’s only one real piece of information we need from you, Carl.”
“And what is that?”
“Gladys,” I said. “Where is she? How do I—we—talk with her?”
Carl narrowed his eyes at me for a moment, then shook his head. “Gladys is dead.”
“I will start at the feet,” Luka boomed, leaning down toward Carl. “There are many small bones in the feet.”
“Would it be that bad?” Francie said suddenly, stalling Luka’s torturous activities for at least the moment.
“Would what be that bad?” I asked. Francie was giving me a look. It was subtle, too subtle for anyone but me to pick up on, but it was there. A tilt of her lip, maybe.
“I’m speaking hypothetically, of course. But what if Gladys has or had the right of it, you know? Look at the state of the world; it’s not all roses and sunshine. I’m not saying this is the right way to go about it, but what if having a smaller group, a group of Gifted people, in control of the whole kit and kaboodle is the way to go?”
“You cannot be serious,” Luka started.
“She’s not.” Carl punctuated his statement with a loud tsking sound. “It was a valiant effort, ladies, and your nonverbal communication is quite impressive, especially given that one of you is a Norm. But do not insult me… I can see your lies coming before they’ve even formed in those pretty little heads of yours.”
“Didn’t see that baseball bat coming…” Francie muttered.
“Alright, I guess we do this Luka’s way, then.” I walked over to face Carl directly. “Is that really how you want this to play out? I mean, you already failed to get me out of the picture. Doesn’t that mean your plan is likely to fail? Is that really worth enduring what Luka has in store for you?”
I darted a glance behind me. Luka’s eyes still held a kind of fire-lit rage, and he seemed perfectly content with the prospect of extracting the needed information by force.
I made a mental note to never cross the big man.
“You won’t let him torture me,” Carl said smugly.
“Is that really what you think? I’m starting to have some major doubts about those supposed powers of yours, Carl.”
Carl’s eyes darted to Luka for a split second. “There’s a really good chance you won’t let him hurt me…”
I held the image of what happened to Linus in my mind for a couple of seconds. Carl was at least partly responsible for that. And Maybe Linus wasn’t an innocent—far from it, I would have bet—but no one deserved that kind of death. The fact that Carl and the enigmatic Gladys seemed to think they were doing the right thing didn’t make it one tiny bit better. Half of the atrocities I could think of came down to people thinking they were doing what was right.
Still, Carl wasn’t wrong. I didn’t want Luka to torture him. Every fiber of my being was against it, in fact. But we were short on choices and short on time, and it wasn’t an exaggeration to say that the fate of the world might hang in the balance.
I shrugged, fixed Linus’s face firmly in my mind, and moved aside. “Looks like it’s playtime, big guy.”
“You can’t—”
Carl’s words were cut off by his shrill and sudden scream. With a speed like lightning, Luka had swooped over and yanked the older man into the air, feet first, to dangle like some jungle explorer caught in the rope trap of a primitive tribe in one of those old black and white adventure movies.
“I don’t want you to pass out,” Luka said in a voice as cold as frozen stone. “So, I will start small and work my way up.”
“Wait-wait-wait,” Carl gasped. “I can’t tell you about Gladys, but I will happily give you—”
Carl’s next scream was so sharp and loud that I took a couple of involuntary steps away. The man’s face, which had previously gone beet-red from the rush of blood, became mottled with ashen patches.
“If you do pass out,” Luka boomed, “you should not expect to wake. Now, do you have anything of value to say before we continue?”
“I… can’t,” Carl gasped.
“Very well.”
The next scream sounded very far away as I stared numbly at what was unfolding in front of me. I nearly jumped out of the bar when Francie’s fingers lightly tapped against my arm.
“This isn’t right,” Francie whispered. “There has to be another way to get what you need, Mer.”
I stared at the small, frightened man as he wriggled in the angry giant’s grasp. Luka, for his part, had been nearly killed by Carl’s direct actions, and it looked as though that anger might fuel him through to whatever end Carl chose.
But I didn’t have that same level of hatred for the man. Disgust, maybe, and a fair amount of anger, certainly. But murderous rage? No, it didn’t go that far for me. And right then, all I could see is a scared old man, his once-dapper hair now splayed out
in wispy tufts, hanging there in front of me.
The words were on my lips. I knew I could stop Luka, get him to see reason, but I bit down on my tongue to stop myself. There was no other way. We needed Gladys, and we needed her quickly. Carl held the only key.
I stepped back as Luka adjusted his grip, readying Carl for some other painful maneuver, and tried to sear the image of Linus in my mind’s eyes again. The dead vampire came forth easily enough—I had a feeling his final moments were going to haunt me for a very long time—and it was almost enough to blot out the horror that Luka continued to dole out. Almost.
“Meredith.” Francie hissed.
I didn’t look over, knowing that one look into her eyes and I would cave.
Linus. He was the embodiment of the evil Carl had wrought—of why this was justified. If I could just tell myself that long enough to let Luka work his magic, I could deal with the fact that I really didn’t believe it later.
“Stop!” Francie shouted, stepping up where I wouldn’t. “This is my bar, and I’m not going to stand by and watch someone be tortured here.” When Luka didn’t reply, she smacked the palm of her hand against his stone-like bicep. “Did you hear me?”
“I will take him to the alley.” Luka took a step forward, causing Carl to moan with pain at the movement.
“That’s not what I’m—”
The argument washed over me as I tunneled down in myself. I didn’t think Francie could win this one. Luka was too angry and too single-minded. And to cap it all off, he was probably right as well. I certainly couldn’t see any other solution.
Their voices seemed to melt together into a rhythm like turbulent waves over a craggy shore. Francie’s sharp, righteous words crashed down only to be beaten back by the cold, implacable refusals from Luka.
And through it all, I focused on Linus until it was like the man stood right in front of me. It wasn’t the version of him that I saw in my vision that first time. Not the calm, dangerous vampire who had never known the feeling of fear or lack of control. No, it was the Linus in those final minutes, the one with wide terror-filled eyes who had looked upon his impending doom and had not known what to do.
The vision of him there, standing between me and the escalating fight over Carl’s fate, became as real as anything else in the room. Maybe more so. I was almost sure I could reach out and touch him.
“Meredith?” The vampire’s plastered-on expression of fear morphed into one of confusion as he spoke my name.
Chapter 23
“Linus?”
The argument between Luka and Francie screeched to a halt as they both turned to look at me.
“Mer? You okay?” I could see Francie casting a worried glance at Luka, but I couldn’t yet bring myself to look away from the spontaneously arisen vampire.
“Are you really here?” I asked, ignoring the increasing confusion from my friends.
“Am I?” Linus examined his hands for a moment. “I—I do not think I am. Or… perhaps, it is that I should not be. The last thing I remember…”
I held up my hands. “That’s okay, really. I already know the last thing you remember, and I remember too well already.”
“Meredith?” Luka’s voice no longer held the cold edge of anger from a moment before. “What do you see?”
I wasn’t sure how to answer that question. I had dealt with shades or spirits long before I even knew I was a Gifted, so talking to a dead person shouldn’t have been that much of an event. But I also knew that this shouldn’t have been possible with a vampire… I had seemingly summoned the shade of Linus at will, but I was pretty sure vampires didn’t even have shades.
“It’s, uh, a vampire.”
Luka shot a quizzical look to Francie, then lowered Carl onto the floor. The older man rolled onto his side but didn’t otherwise try to go anywhere.
“A vampire?” Francie asked. “Are you…”
“There are no vampires here,” Luka said gently. “Perhaps, this has been too taxing a—”
“I’m not crazy,” I interrupted. “And I know there aren’t any vampires in the room with us. The one I’m talking to is dead.”
“It sounds so final when you say it like that,” Linus quipped.
“Well, it is pretty final…”
“I am no expert,” Luka said, “but I have never heard of a Necromancer who could commune with a deceased vampire. Their kind is dark and hollow, without soul or continuance.”
Linus took a halfhearted swing at Luka, but his hand passed right through the big man’s chest. “Would you do me a favor and smack some manners into your monolithic friend?”
“You might want to keep those kinds of comments to yourself,” I said to Luka. “You’re not going to win over any vampire friends saying stuff like that. And as for how any of this is possible, I haven’t the foggiest.” I waved a hand toward the space now occupied by Linus. “But there he stands all the same.”
“Wait,” Francie said, “is this the same vampire you told me about? The guy that one of those revenant things, uh, got to?”
“I think the word she is looking for is massacred,” Linus snarked. “Slaughtered works as well. Annihilated, butchered, obliterated…” Oddly enough, he seemed rather chipper for a dead guy.
“Yeah, that’s the one,” I said. “As a matter of fact…” I walked around to the back of the bar and motioned for Linus to follow. He took the short route and slipped right through the middle of the polished wooden surface of the bar.
“Well, now,” he said when the dead revenant came into view. “This alone may have been worth being summoned from the dark null space of oblivion.”
“Is that where you were before this?” I asked. “Just… nowhere?”
“Oh, I don’t know, to be honest. I just liked how grandiose it sounded when I said it. I think I was somewhere. Maybe. I have a hint of a memory of existing in some form, and I don’t think it was a bleak or torturous existence. If I had to put a word to it, I think I would say I was… comfortable.”
As far as a description of an afterlife of some kind went, that didn’t sound half bad. I could have thought of a hundred worse possibilities that seemed at least reasonably likely. Comfortable. Given the choice, I’d gladly take that one when my time came.
“How did this come to be?” Linus gestured to the partly disassembled revenant, snapping me back from my wonderings. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you. But the creature looks like it was hit by a train.”
I pointed to Luka. “Meet the train.”
Linus didn’t reply, but he looked more than a little impressed.
“This is all very interesting,” Luka grumbled. “But we have more pressing matters than entertaining a dead vampire. Perhaps, Carl has had enough time to rethink his allegiance to Gladys.”
It didn’t look to me like Carl had had time to consider that or anything else. The man was unconscious and in a semi-fetal position where Luka had dropped him on the floor. My guess was that a crack to the skull with a baseball bat and two likely broken feet were just a bit more than his system could handle.
“Gladys?” Linus asked. “That’s what this little tableau is all about? If anyone here cares about the opinion of a dead vampire, as Mr. Train so eloquently phrased it, I suggest forgetting that name and running as far in the opposite direction as you can. And I’m talking from firsthand experience.”
“Wait, what can you tell us about her?” I asked. “Do you know where to find her?”
That seemed to perk up Luka’s ears. “The vampire can help us?”
“Oh, I see. I’m no longer the dead vampire when you think I have something to offer. As far as helping, I already did. It would be far more helpful for me to keep my mouth shut than to point you toward that horrid creature…”
“But you can point us in her direction?” Maybe my summoning him here wasn’t completely by chance after all. On some level, I had to know he would have important information. He had been killed for exposing himself to me.
<
br /> Linus shrugged and paced back through the bar. “I can. But you will not like what you find. She is not what you think, and no longer what she once was.” He turned his dark eyes on mine. They were full of depth and life, which was rather strange, given the situation. “To say an encounter with Gladys would be dangerous is like saying a stake to the heart would be uncomfortable.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I replied. “I have to stop her. And I’m not alone.”
Linus shook his head. “Mr. Train’s brute strength will not be enough, and I doubt the barmaid over there will fare any better.”
He narrowed his eyes at me and walked closer, moving through several of the barstools on his way over. “But you… I do not know the full extent of your powers. Perhaps, there is something in that bag of tricks of yours that could serve you where others would fail. I know too little of your kind to say for sure.”
“My kind? Necromancers?”
“Yes… and no. But you already know that, don’t you?”
“Maybe, but only hints. What do you know?”
“Only hints as well,” Linus replied with a shrug. “The Old Ones. The Dark Ones. The Eldritch-touched. Your people are storied among my kind. But those stories are ancient and fragmentary and mostly dismissed.”
“But you knew what I was the moment you saw me,” I said. “Surely that means you know something more. Anything.”
“I knew you in the same way you would recognize the Boogeyman in a nightmare. You might be able to tell me what he is, but I would be surprised if you could tell me anything more.”
“That’s it?” I sighed. “I’m the Boogeyman? Well, that’s great… thanks.”
“Well, that’s not entirely all.” Linus grinned. “There is one story. One that’s held onto most of its pieces since a time long before humans began scrawling on stone tablets. It involves the death of one of The First’s children. She was called Waela.”
“And where do my people factor into it?” I asked.
Linus paced across the room to stand near Luka and Carl. “Well, The First was beyond distraught, for Waela was his favorite daughter. And while he had amassed more resources and wealth than any other being of the day, he still lacked the power to challenge the finality of death for his beloved.”