The thick red pile of the carpet crunched softly as he padded down in his gleaming brogues.
Damn damn damn they’ve found me. Someone talked. That means poor old George is probably dead and the Court have the key to the vault of this place. And the town, the poor, poor town. I’m supposed to protect it.
Debruler had been secretly preparing for this eventuality for years. Like his father, grandfather and great grandfather, Edward had been instructed as a Magi from a young age under the care of the Black Star. He was inducted into the ancient society as soon as he drew breath. He never felt, if he was honest, particularly suited to it.
His entire life Edward had been aware of the secret doorways and thin spots dotted all across the world, where creatures from the Unseelie Court had crawled through to terrorize, kidnap and kill. Their society The Black Star had provided some of the earliest first-hand accounts of the Unseelie, their scribes had documented and categorized, their artists made sketches and even some infamous paintings that could fetch millions in the secretive black magic markets of the world.
Edward had hoped never to have to engage in battle, he was not a violent man. Truth be told he was seen by the society as somewhat of an embarrassment. The Black Star was a pious and academic bunch, and rather Calvinist in their outlook. They like the word secret in the term secret society and never liked to draw undue attention to themselves. Ever since his days at Cambridge, Edward had been seen as too flippant, flamboyant and indulgent, using the family’s wealth to explore the world and take in its beauty. The Black Star wanted Heathcliff to protect the bones of Lilith. What they got, in their opinion, was Bertie Wooster.
Yet Edward’s responsibility was inherited from his father, and he had reluctantly accepted it.
Within various societies they were known as the Gatekeepers, the Keyholders, and the Custodians. Quite unlike the military culture of the Special Threats Group, who primarily used technology to battle the supernatural agents of the Unseelie Court, The Black Star had harnessed magical energy that leaked through from the portals themselves and over the centuries become highly adept thaumaturgists in their own right.
In truth, compared to the raw power emanating from the other side, the magi of the Black Star were scavengers, drawing in the dregs and the leftovers from the magical energies left residually in our world after each crossing. Yet they had become adept at it in their own way.
The old mansion whose stairs Edward descended had been built to very clear specifications by his ancestors. From the outside it looked like a rather crumbling old ancestral pile built in the Scottish baronial style. Yet to an eye who could interpret thaumaturgy, it was criss-crossed with ley lines, sigils and wards. The old mansion was to all intents and purposes a giant magical artefact with the sole purpose of keeping the dark magic of the Unseelie Court out.
Edward’s father had even over the course of thirty years constructed the Debruler mansion’s greatest and most important defence. It was a bubble of pure magical energy surrounding the entire outer fence of the house that could be activated in time of direst emergency. It soaked up too much energy to last for long, a day at most, but Edward hoped it would hold out long enough for him to somehow escape with the artefact he was sworn to protect.
Nothing mattered more than the bones. The Black Star had long ago discovered that although the entity that had been the Queen of the Dark had been killed, her bones could not be destroyed by any means they had, either then or now.
Their fear was always that a skilled Necromancer would one day be able to cross over and using her physical remains resurrects the Queen whole again. That could never be allowed, and Edward had been raised from an early age to believe that nothing and no one was more important than their protection.
If the town of Carnival was to be sacrificed, so be it. That had never sat well with Edward Debruler.
He reached the vaults beneath the mansion and flicked a switch. A low hum ensued followed by a flickering then harsh overhead lighting flooded the underground vault.
Benefits of having my own generator. Can’t imagine anything electrical in Carnival is going to be working when that mist hits it.
Compared to the rest of the mansion, the vault was surprisingly modern and sparse. Its walls and floor were cased in three feet of dense concrete. The floor was cut with concentric circles, between each one a line of magical defence in occult symbology. In the centre of the vault was a single large box made of smooth polished black crystal.
There was nothing else in the room. It looked harsh and sparse and more akin to somewhere to house radioactive materials than a supernatural artefact. The room had been designed to keep out all remote viewing and other psychic probes, to withstand heavy artillery bombardment and magical attack.
It was known simply as The Bunker.
Edward walked over and ran his fingers across the polished black crystal.
“Well old girl, it looks like your husband is finally coming to get you back. I’m terribly sorry, but I cannot let that happen.”
A sudden crack appeared in the pristine lid of the container, echoing sharply through the silence and causing Debruler to leap back. He took a few moments to catch his breath, looked around the vault and felt the magical warding holding everything tight.
“I know, I know. You want to be found. Well you can kick and scream all you like, you’re not getting your body back. Now sit tight, I’m closing this place down.”
Debruler back off towards the door, switched off the light, bolted the heavy blast door, and made his way back up the stairs.
12.
Empire One had touched down in Canadian airspace within the last half hour. Usher and his team stood in the aircraft hangar next to the sleek black shapes of the stealth helicopters that were being safety checked and fuelled in preparation for their insertion.
Empire One were fully kitted out in body armour, ballistic helmets and tactical vests. Their harnesses were stacked with a range of specialist ballistics designed to neutralize a variety of supernatural foes. They packed Kelvin rounds for shape shifters, depleted uranium for Djinn, and the newly developed serenity projectiles to pacify Berserkers. Each one of the team had to be honest however, on this occasion they had absolutely no idea what they were going up against. They were all silently glad to have the Soulblade strapped against their thigh.
In their experience, when in doubt, taking something’s head off with a razor sharp blade usually did the trick. Unfortunately that meant getting close enough to get bitten.
As a primary weapon Usher had chosen a C8 SWF carbine with attached grenade launcher and suppressor. On his right leg in a safari holster was a Sig Sauer P226 pistol and across his chest was an X-26 Taser on the off chance they needed to take someone or something alive. The rest of his team, having more freedom than the regular military, had chosen weapons that they felt most at home with.
Beside the other helicopter, the second team were checking their kit. Empire Two was a mostly Canadian affair, having some local knowledge of the terrain. They looked like a capable bunch and were led by a red haired serious looking man named Cavell. Usher had noticed the man’s cold eyes glancing over at him since his team had arrived.
Usher was still feeling shaken if he was honest. He had mentally prepared himself for witnessing all manner of supernatural horrors over the years, and the Unseelie hadn’t disappointed. Empire Teams were carefully vetted and pressure tested to the highest level, but there had been occasions where a team member has simply cracked, unable to cope with the daily task of having to fight things that ought not to exist. There were a few ex Empire Team members who had gone to live off the grid completely, as far from humanity and the events of the world as possible. Some ended up drifters, moving from town to town, trying to walk away from the things they’d seen. A few even ended up in mental institutions, or worse took their own lives. What Usher had never in a million years prepared himself for was seeing the face of his wife again. It had brought all the o
ld pain flooding back. He knew it wasn’t her but the pain still cut deep.
Usher slung his carbine and stood over with the rest of his team. They looked capable and ready. He took a measure of the people whose lives depended on his leadership.
Brock, the bull-framed Dane who looked like he belonged to a Viking raiding party, twirled his blond braided beard as he surveyed the mission brief. He folded his arms and his biceps bulged beneath his army fatigues.
Stromberg, the sun bleached Australian surfer dude was as happy go lucky as always, sitting on a deck chair with his feet up against the helicopter and reading a comic book.
Santiago, the tattooed Hispanic knife expert, flashed Usher his icy grin as he sent a shower of sparks off his Soulblade with a sharpening whetstone.
Isaac, Usher’s brooding and womanizing right hand man sat playing solitaire with a deck of cards at the table, his dark eyes flashing in deep concentration, as if seeing a secret tarot message in each turn of the card.
Jeter was the team’s aloof German operator and ex GSG-9 sniper. He sat with his eyes closed disassembling, cleaning and reassembling a pistol with almost robotic efficiency. His uniform looked starched and perfect compared to the ragtag assembly of the rest of Empire One.
Ariel Speedman, the occult advisor attached to the team was frantically scribbling in the little leather notebook he carried everywhere, whilst simultaneously studying five open tabs on his tablet. He looked up at Usher, adjusted his glasses and resumed writing.
Lastly Charlie, the youngest member of Empire One stood sucking on a cigarette near the hangar entrance. Cocky and built like a bulldog, he exuded a swagger that would have seen him at home as an East End gangster.
The team had changed over the years, a few got promoted, some left, and some good friends they had lost to the darkness they fought. Usher touched the pendant he wore, a protective amulet that had belonged to his good friend Christi, an outstanding soldier who had been betrayed by one of their own. He missed her terribly, but the team as it was now was solid and strong. They had been on countless drops together and all come back alive. This one would be no different.
Usher had to believe that.
He was broken from his reverie by the sound of his commanding officer’s clipped voice.
Greystone stood before them next to a map board showing the wide expanse of the Canadian wilderness they were about to be dropped into. He cleared his throat then began the mission briefing.
“Good morning gentlemen. As you are aware you have been mobilized at short notice to deal with a spontaneous incident that has arisen here in Canada in relation to the Unseelie attack in Paris yesterday. Empire One, you will be working closely on this mission with our Canadian counterparts in Empire Two. Some of you may already be familiar with one another, by reputation at least. Yes Major Cavell?”
The red haired leader of the second assault team had raised his hand and sneered.
“Colonel, I want to know why we are going in with a team with no experience in this environment, led by someone with a personal involvement in this incident. It’s messy and I don’t like it.”
Usher’s jaw tightened but he said nothing.
Greystone frowned. “Your concern is duly noted Major. Empire One does indeed have no experience on your native soil, that’s why we have your team as guides. However as a unit Empire One have more experience dealing with the Unseelie Court than any other assault team in the organization. There can be no doubts whatsoever cast on their professionalism.”
Isaac flicked up one of his playing cards between finger and thumb to reveal an ace of spades. He flashed his grin at Cavell.
“They don’t call us the Lucky Few for nothing. Why don’t you boys just have a pancake and relax.”
A few of Cavell’s team laughed and cast some derogatory hand gestures at Isaac. Ripping into each other was part of what soldiers did, testing the resolve of potential teammates, but Cavell didn’t see the joke. He shook his freckled head at the frivolity.
“Well my team don’t rely on luck. If you cowboys want to just roll in there guns blazing and hope for the best, be my guest. We do things by the book in Empire Two.”
Danny Stromberg’s tanned face creased in a mocking grin.
“What fucking book, mate? There are no books that cover this. Not one of us has any fucking idea what is gonna come through one of those doors next. We’re talking about magic mate, breaks every rule by its nature. You can’t control it you just gotta roll with the punches.”
Santiago gave the opposing team a small bow of his head. “Jeet Kune Do, boys, be like water.”
A couple of the Empire Two boys started making exaggerated kung Fu noises and hand gestures, but Cavell shut them up. “Look I just want it said for the record that I don’t like going into something like this unprepared. We have absolutely no idea what we’re getting into.”
Usher raised a placatory hand to his opposite number.
“Major Cavell. I appreciate and share your concerns. We don’t like going in blind either. I’ve raised my doubts as to the preparedness of this mission through the chain of command. But when push comes to shove we are soldiers, and we follow orders, even when we’re scared. What my men are trying to say is that what sets Empire Teams apart is our ability to adapt, to not need rules and structure when none exist to support us. I have every confidence in you and your team and our ability to work together.”
But I can tell you don’t feel the same way.
Colonel Greystone snapped his cane onto the map board.
“Well, if you’ve all strutted about sufficiently and had your pissing contest, let me let you what we have.”
The teams quickly quietened their banter and sat to attention.
Greystone pointed to a photograph of the Paris crime scene pinned to the map.
“Following the robbery at BNP Paribas in Paris, the main item that was stolen was a safety deposit box, a box belonging to a man called Edward Debruler, a French Canadian educated at Oxbridge. He is the sole surviving heir to the Debruler family fortune, a fortune based on mining. He is well known in socialite circles, both on this side of the Atlantic and in Europe. Reputation for eccentricity, and extremely protective of his privacy. This is the most recent photo we have of him from a visit to Cannes.”
Greystone pointed to a paparazzi shot of a man coming out of a restaurant. He was around thirty, and dapper in a tuxedo but with a shock of unruly hair. He attempted to shield his eyes from the flashing cameras and didn’t seem comfortable at all.
Usher raised an eyebrow. “What interest would the Unseelie Court have in a wealthy industrialist?”
Greystone nodded to Ariel Speedman and the scruffy young scientist and occult investigator stood up next to the Colonel. He adjusted his spectacles and nervously addressed the soldiers.
“Because Major Usher, Edward Debruler is also one of the highest ranking members of the oldest occult society in Europe, the Black Star. They have connections with the Templars, Freemasons, the Bavarian Illuminati, The Thule society, even the Skull and Bones at Yale. Yet their relationship is always behind the curtain even within these societies. It is widely believed that The Black Star was formed in the twelfth century to serve as an early form of protection against the Unseelie Court. Some of the earliest manuscripts and artwork attempting to categorize and define the creatures coming through the portals are attributed to members of this society. The Debruler family has been an active part of this secretive group for as far back as we can trace.”
Major Cavell spoke up. “So do we know what was contained in this safety deposit box?”
Greystone shook his head. “The box contained a single key. The bank has no records of what it was for. My contact within the Black Star has informed us that this key can access a magically sealed vault within the Debruler mansion. Within that vault is something that Major Usher’s contacts have informed us would be an extremely powerful weapon for the Unseelie Court. Something that the Black Star has k
ept hidden and the Court cannot be allowed to possess. More details provided by Major Usher are contained in the hand-out on your desks.”
Cavell snorted.
“This contact of Major Usher’s, I assume that’s his reputed ‘friends’ from the other side? How can we possibly trust anything that comes from those creatures?
Usher scowled across at him. “My sources are reliable and trustworthy Major Cavell.”
Cavell screeched his chair back on the floor. “So you say. So it’s a straightforward extraction. We get Debruler and whatever he’s protecting out of there and into our safe custody before this Unseelie agent and his team.”
Ariel pushed his spectacles up on his nose and nodded.
“Unfortunately the Unseelie seem to have gotten there before us. Whatever this red mist consists of, it seems to act like some kind of electromagnetic pulse. We can’t get any communications in or out of the town. Heat signatures don’t seem to show through it either. The best we have are these satellite images, which as you can see, show the obscurity of almost everything for about three miles around the town of Carnival.”
Greystone gestured to the waiting helicopters.
“Your objective is to infiltrate the town of Carnival and intercept the Unseelie agent. Locate Debruler and assist him in defending his mansion against all insurgents. If you can, rescue any survivors from the town you can and lead them to safety., but that is not your priority. We don’t want to bomb that site while there may still be people alive. We have to assume this Necromancer fellow is somewhere in there trying to complete his mission. If you encounter him, neutralize with extreme prejudice.”
Usher sat up straight in his seat. “Colonel, can I rewind a moment there. Did you say bomb the site?”
Ariel Speedman cleared his throat and looked to the Colonel for permission. He got the nod and shrugged at Usher.
“An anti-thaumaturgic bomb that the STG, including myself, have been working on for some time. It’s all very hush-hush I’m afraid, sorry I didn’t tell you about it sooner. Theoretically it could be the turning point in the war against the Unseelie. I won’t bore you with the science of it, but it basically eradicates anything even vaguely magic in about a five miles radius. It’s essentially penicillin to the bacteria of dark magic.”
The Last Line Series One Page 42