Bovicide, Zombie Diaries, and the Legend of the Brothers Brown

by Stephen Bills

  Chapter Thirteen: The First Brother

  Paddington drove north. When he couldn’t drive north any farther, he pushed the buzzer. The manor’s gates swung inward and he crunched down the long drive to the duke’s castle, parked, entered the already-opening door, and nodded to the butler behind it.

  “Dining room?” he asked and threw the butler his bloodstained tan coat, which left him in the same suit he’d worn all day, the top button still undone.

  “I know the way,” he told the butler, then spotted his opening mouth and added, “No, no Lisa tonight. She wasn’t feeling well.”

  As before, the dining room was empty. Was making his guests wait part of Adonis’s strategy? A subtle suggestion that his time was so important that he was late even to appointments at his own home? That everyone else must operate on his schedule?

  Once he’d checked that he was very alone, Paddington circled the table once, then stretched out on a chair, eyes closed. A few minutes later, by no discernable noise, he was aware of a presence watching him.

  “I suppose it is too late to ask you to make yourself at home,” said Adonis.

  Paddington opened his eyes and took his feet off the chair beside him. “Busy day. Your grace.”

  “Yes, I have received a truly remarkable number of complaints.”

  The rest of the Andrastes filed in and took their seats, their hair and clothes immaculate. The butler set a silver tray in the centre of the long table.

  “Have you had any luck with my… suggestion?” asked Adonis.

  “Not as yet,” Paddington said.

  “Perhaps, detective, I did not stress how important that was?”

  “Perhaps your grace should put more hours in my day,” Paddington said. “I can’t be everywhere. I could be out looking now, but you preferred to dine.”

  Adonis smiled. “Quite so. We must make time, doubly so when there is none.” Adonis started eating his meat, so his family did likewise. Paddington was already finishing his vegetables.

  “How much has Captain Mitchell pieced together?” asked Adonis.

  “He knows Lisa is a werewolf but not how she became one. He’s searching both for her and whoever bit her.”

  Adonis didn’t correct Paddington’s error about biting, so either Adonis knew less than he’d indicated – unlikely – or he thought Paddington knew less than he did and he was hoping to keep him in the dark.

  Not a good sign.

  “What will happen when Mitchell finds them?” asked Adonis.

  Quite probably Adonis would kill them all, but Paddington doubted that was an acceptable answer, so he shovelled in another mouthful of food and made Adonis wait. “I don’t know,” he said at last.

  The only sounds were the click of silver on china and soft chewing.

  “They seemed very interested in the Tree,” Paddington said.

  There were some quick glances between siblings: the Andrastes knew about the prophecy. Adonis raised his sleek eyebrows, playing it cooler than his offspring. “Do they? And you, James?”

  “I never gave it much thought. The Paddingtons aren’t believers.”

  “The Brethertons are, your mother’s side,” said Adonis. “And you excelled at school.”

  That was only because he’d excelled at everything. Theology had been compulsory, even once English and mathematics wasn’t. Many graduates went on to be lifelong church members, but never read so much as a menu.

  “Perhaps no one’s sufficiently answered my concerns,” Paddington said.

  “Perhaps.” Adonis smiled. “Would you care to hear the tale of creation? It may illuminate current events.” His meat devoured but vegetables untouched, Adonis placed his knife and fork together and began the tale.

  “It started with Idryo. She gazed upon Themself – upon the Three-God – and saw the potential for more. ‘From life: life,’ as the Book says. She gathered a strand of Her hair, a strand of Enanti’s, and a strand of Tipote’s, and bound the three into the Braid of Time: the universe from creation to end.

  “Enanti, of course, tried to destroy it, but Idryo declared creation to be the property of all three; not Enanti’s to destroy. Even Tipote, fascinated by the universe though unconcerned about its fate, was part of its creation and therefore It had right to some of it.

  “The argument raged – none can say how long, for what does ‘time’ mean where Gods dwell? – but there was no dissuading Enanti. Lacking the power to destroy creation, He instead commanded His third of it. Stars died out, planets fell out of orbits, and the universe tumbled toward entropy.

  “Idryo, in Her wisdom, offered peace. The earth, largely forgotten during the Epoch of Debate, had become full with creatures of all types. Idryo had planned to craft a new being, modelled after Herself, to live forever as She does and rule over the beasts. To stay Enanti’s anger, She offered to create beings for the other two.

  “And this is how the Three Races were created. Idryo took the attributes of the greatest beast on earth and fused it with Her essence, creating a fast, independent, elegant being that existed forever on earth, and named her Woman. For Enanti She made another: slower, designed for society, modelled after the enemy of the greatest beast, to exist forever after death, and named him Man; he was the first of the ‘werewolves’. For Tipote She created the third Race, to exist forever in death, and named it That; the first of what we term ‘zombies’.

  “Of course, your girlfriend and Mr Winslow are the palest shadows of their former glory, but there you have it: creation laid bare.” Adonis smiled that pointed smile.

  “The story isn’t finished.” Paddington said. “Where did humans come from?”

  “Ah, well… Idryo made these creatures in a land of great power and gave them every freedom save one.”

  “The Understanding Tree…” Paddington said.

  Adonis nodded, clearly enjoying the lesson. “Each Race was told that it was unique from the others. For Woman and Man this was enough. However, the vile That sought to know the lives of the other two, to understand more than its share. Unable to reach the fruit itself, it instead tricked the Woman and Man into eating it. When they did, they became confused. They believed that they would live forever – as Woman was designed to – and that there was eternal life after death – Man’s destiny – but also that death was the ultimate end and there was nothing beyond it – as it was for That.

  “The Three-God, knowing of their sin, sent an angel to cast them out of the forest and sealed its mighty gates. Woman, Man, and That were deposited far from home with the promise that one day their descendents would dwell there again.

  “In time, Woman and Man had children, in whom the attributes of each Three-God fought for control and power. As humans spread across the globe, the divine blood thinned – though I believe that on Archi exist the purest forms of those original creatures.”

  Among the great many flaws in this explanation, Paddington picked one. “If everyone came from the same two people, how could some descendents have purer blood than others?”

  “Please, detective,” said Adonis, in his soft bass rumble. “One does not discuss blood over dinner. Let us leave it that Woman, Man, and That each had a way to propagate their Race. And although all of Woman and Man’s children were born human, some were more like one Race than the other two and more powerful if turned. If the term ‘destiny’ offends you, label it random genetic predisposition; they mean the same.”

  Paddington nodded. “Thank you, duke. I’ve never heard the story told so eloquently.”

  “It helps to know of two of the Races. The more pieces of the puzzle one has, the clearer the picture.”

  And the clearer one can see which pieces are missing, lost, or hidden.

  Paddington smiled. “Indeed, sir, and on that topic I would like to say something.” He stood, laid his napkin on his mostly-empty plate, and took up his water glass. “You have welcomed me so warmly, so very warmly – for this is all my fault. These Mainlanders are here because
of me; Lisa is my girlfriend; and if I’d done my job right, I would have found Marion before she created a horde. Conall has cleaned up my mistake there, and I thank you for that too.” He placed his hand over his heart. “Yet through my many failings, you trusted me and for that I am so thankful.”

  He raised his water glass in a toast to them, then placed it to his lips and drained it. The Andrastes did likewise. As Paddington sat back down, Adonis cleared his throat.

  “Of course, your lying hasn’t helped,” Paddington added, as an afterthought. “And your secrets. Those are, well, less than excellent.”

  Melanthios toppled sideways from his chair, clutching his throat. Other Andrastes coughed like sandpaper. None could stand or run, but some managed not to collapse.

  “For example, duke,” Paddington continued, “you know I’ve seen all three Races, you just didn’t think I’d recognise you.”

  The clatter of glasses and crockery and raspy breathing forced Paddington to raise his voice. “Fantastic thing, the internet. Lots of lies, but if you know where to look… Magic!”

  He smiled. Adonis stared back, red-faced.

  “You see, vampires are like werewolves: too many myths to know what’s real. Yes you’re tall and slender, pale-skinned, dignified, aloof – all the usual indicators – but policemen don’t deal in appearance, they deal in facts. So I considered what I knew. First, my girlfriend doesn’t become some evil half-human creature; she becomes a wolf. One hundred percent, from wet muzzle to fluffy tail.

  “Second, I thought of what I knew of you. One, your teeth: carnivorous. Two, your daughters aren’t monogamous; they’ll bed anyone. Three, your eyes: I forget what you called it, but the common name is ‘cat-eye syndrome’. And four… none of you touched your vegetables.”

  By now all of the Andrastes had fallen to the floor. Most had already lost consciousness, but Adonis was scratching his way toward the butler’s bell. Paddington crouched in front of him, blocking his way, and flicked Adonis’s hand off his mud-stained shoes. “You were right, Adonis. I’m too good a policeman for simple tricks. Rather than twist the facts to fit the rumour, I found out what fit my facts and it wasn’t a vampire. It was a kitty-cat.”

  Adonis’s head jerked up in surprise. His hands tugged at Paddington’s trousers.

  “You know,” Paddington said, “until last night I had no idea that cats had sacrificed their intestinal tract to decrease weight and increase speed. I had no idea that, since their livers are so poor at detoxification, they get ill from eating plant matter or anything even slightly toxic. It doesn’t even have to be poison. It could be wine, or vegetables… or aspirin.”

  Paddington withdrew from his pocket an empty plastic baggie of the white powder he’d tipped into everyone’s water glass when he’d been alone in the dining room at the start of the night.

  “This shouldn’t be a lethal dose,” Paddington said. “Come morning you’ll be fine.”

  Paddington stepped over Erato – who was trying to lie seductively – and entered the hallways. He worked through the labyrinth by memory and on the third try he found Adonis’s private library.

  The walls were lined with ancient texts and hunting trophies: mostly deer, with a few cattle and what looked like a buffalo, but Paddington had eyes only for the display case in the room’s centre. He grabbed a tome from the bookcase and smashed the glass with it.

  Paddington tipped the broken glass off the Book of Three, then tucked it under his arm and ran back into the corridors. After a few twists he felt he was going in the right direction. Probably. Yes, the final turn was just up ther—

  A door opened to his right and a figure stepped out. Paddington raised the Book to protect his neck, then lowered it when he recognised who was there.

  “’Ello, Jim,” the figure said.

  “Richard?”

  “Nope.”

  “Thomas, sorry.”

  “What’s going on?” Thomas asked.

  Why was Thomas Brown here? And why was he wearing a suit and tie? The presence of his many freckles and dull stare were somehow reassuring.

  Paddington glanced around. How long before one of the Andrastes induced vomiting or the butler came to check on them?

  “We’re escaping,” Paddington said. He grabbed Thomas’s hand and dragged him toward the front door. “Come on.”

  “Why are we escaping, Jim?”

  “Because…” Paddington tried to think of a reason that didn’t involve explaining what a vampire was or telling Thomas that Lisa had devoured one of his Barbaras.

  “Because they’re imprisoning you,” Paddington said.

  “The duke said I was his guest.”

  “Only until you try to leave.”

  “I don’t want to leave,” Thomas said, digging his heels into the plush carpet. “Them young ladies were right kind to me.”

  “Anything they promised you was a lie.”

  “And I should trust a Mainland-lover, should I? A man who can’t keep his woman on a leash?”

  Paddington found he had pinned Thomas’s throat to the wall with the Book of Three. “What?”

  Thomas struggled against Paddington’s grip. “Richard said your girl was in his field, starkers.”

  Paddington released him. His mouth was very dry, all of a sudden. “She’s… not been feeling well.”

  “Not surprised, sleeping on the grass with nought but ’er hair on.”

  “What?”

  “Hair…” Thomas said, pointing to his straw-coloured mop. “What’s got in your goat tonight?”

  “Nothing. I mean, you’re not safe here.”

  “Sure I am. The duke’s daughters have been making sure of that.” Thomas’s bushy eyebrows leapt up. “They said they’d be back after dinner and, well, there’d be some fairly strong sinuations.”

  “They’re going to kill you!” Paddington didn’t know if it was true, but it sounded compelling. It would have compelled him, anyway.

  “Jim, I’m not that old.”

  “Thomas, these aren’t good people!” Paddington whispered as loudly as he dared.

  Thomas stepped away. “Watch your language, young Jim! O’ course they’re not good. Them’s a better class of people.”

  Paddington had a sudden revelation of what it had been like for Lisa five days ago. “Thomas, they’ve—”

  “They’ve what?” Thomas sighed. “I don’t know about you young people today.”

  Thomas turned back and walked for his room. What else could Paddington say? Unless he spent an hour explaining the situation, Thomas wouldn’t understand. Even then, he may need diagrams.

  Plus, Paddington didn’t have any idea why the Andrastes actually wanted the old farmer. Maybe they really did mean him well.

  A bell tolled in the silence. The butler would be in the dining room in seconds, and probably at the front door with a shotgun shortly after that. Paddington didn’t have time to chase down stubborn farmers.

  With a final glance at Thomas, Paddington legged it for the door.