Darkest Hour

by Rob Cornell

  The hairs on the backs of his arms stood on end.

  He looked to the floor, expecting to find the carpet worn out along the path he’d been pacing for the last forty minutes. He was supposed to be getting some shut-eye. His body had other ideas. He couldn’t even make himself lie down. The one time he tried, he thrashed back and forth on the bed, unable to find a comfortable position. That’s when he got up and started pacing.

  His hands were tied. Either the scientists would figure out their wormhole or the team would finally pull together traditional transports. Eventually, they would get to Alaska. In the mean time, Lockman could...do nothing but worry.

  Now this shiver and sense of foreboding about Kate?

  Lockman never claimed to have sensitivity to mojo. He liked to think he was dead to that kind of thing. But his body once belonged to Gabriel, and mojo flowed through the body as much as it did the soul. So he couldn’t deny what he felt might have some validity. Kate might be in trouble.

  If she was? What could he do about it?

  Another example of his impotence.

  He swung his foot out and kicked the cheap set of drawers that kept his clothes. The bottom drawer cracked and popped off the track so that it canted sideways. He wanted to take another swing at it, but controlled himself. Breaking furniture wouldn’t solve anything.

  The knock at his door sounded like a song of angels. Finally, something to act on.

  He answered the door and found Obstermeyer standing on the other side with a huge grin on his face. “It was almost too easy,” he said, the pitch of his voice girlish.

  Lockman narrowed his eyes. “You’ve done it?”

  “I was right the whole time. You need exotic matter to hold open a wormhole. Nothing’s more exotic than magical energy.”

  None of that made any sense to Lockman. He only had one more question. “How much did it cost?”

  Obstermeyer’s giddy expression crumbled. His brow wrinkled. “The tech for the wormhole we have on loan. The power supply is pretty large, but well within our—”

  “I’m not talking about money. How much blood?”

  “Oh. Yeah, that.”

  “How much?”

  “I thought the donors were all volunteers. Does it matter?”

  “It matters to me.”

  Obstermeyer shrugged. His curls waved from side to side. “I don’t know. About six-hundred liters.”

  They had a store of blood, some provided, as Obstermeyer said, by volunteer donors. The rest commandeered from blood banks across the globe. Nothing to create a shortage for those who needed it. Still, Lockman imagined what six-hundred liters of blood might look like. That was roughly one-hundred sixty gallons. Or, in starker terms, about one-hundred people’s worth.

  If they took the blood by force, from unwilling donors, and fresh from wounds to the body, it would require a lot less to power their experiments. Blood only had so much value if you took away the pain of its shedding. So, for them, it took more.

  Six-hundred liters.

  “Are you all right?” the physicist asked. “You got what you wanted and you got it fast, but you look like I just told you your dog died.”

  “I’ve never had a dog.” Lockman shoved past Obstermeyer and headed out to find Adam. “Thanks for your work.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Kate shoved back in her chair and shot to her feet. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Kress barely looked her in the eye. “Getting you ready.”

  The other diners began to scootch out their chairs and stand as well. The scraping of chair legs on the floor sounded like a team of barking seals. Eventually, everyone was standing and focused on Kate.

  “You son of a bitch,” Kate said. “I can’t believe I agreed to stick around. I should have known after the first time you had me killed you were psychotic.”

  “This is the fastest way to focus your power. Use it. Protect yourself.”

  He no sooner said this when Mica launched herself up onto the table. She knocked aside glasses and crunched onto plates with her boots. She put a fist up by her mouth.

  Kate had seen that gesture enough times to know what came next. She ducked.

  A tinkling, like the fall of crushed glass, rang overhead. Kate glanced over her shoulder and watched the cloud of sparkling pixie dust float past her. She snatched a steak knife from the table and slashed out with it, not at Mica, who stood out of reach on the table. She swung at Kress.

  Kress hadn’t expected the move. He flinched, but not in time to miss getting cut across the cheek. His skin split and bright red filled the wound. He staggered backward and put a hand to his face.

  Kate didn’t hesitate. She went after him again, this time jabbing with the knife, going for his gut. He dodged and used her momentum to shove her past him and into the wall. He followed up with a kick into the small of her back.

  Pain jagged up her spine. She had no time to recover. Kress grabbed her wrist and knocked her hand against the wall repeatedly until her fingers went numb and the knife tumbled out of her grip.

  The next minute, the whole room spun and she felt herself sailing through the air. Kress had grabbed her under the arms and tossed her as easily as a sack of flour. She slammed onto the table at Mica’s feet. China and glass broke underneath her and the jagged edges cut her arms and shoulders.

  Mica pinned Kate down with a foot on her chest. “Not so tough now, love?”

  Rage bloomed in Kate so hot her skin felt like it did after sitting in the sun too long. She grabbed Mica by the ankle and tried to lift her foot off. Mica had all the leverage, though. And the strength. This was the same foot that had kicked the door across Kate’s apartment.

  But I’m the one who threw her into a wall and almost crushed her.

  From the corner of her eye, Kate saw a cut on her shoulder from the broken glass. She saw the blood. Instinct took over. The blood flared like a brake light. The edges of the cut glowed like burning paper. All at once, Kate felt a new strength within her. She shoved up on Mica’s ankle.

  Mica shrieked as she flipped over backward off the table and pounded to the floor.

  Kate scrambled to her feet. Now she stood on the table as if on a stage, all the supernatural things Kress had said he hoped Kate one day saw as her family staring at her with murder in their eyes—if they had them. What kind of dysfunctional family did Kress envision here?

  “Stop,” she shouted. “The next one who moves I’ll make blow up like a watermelon with a stick of dynamite in it.”

  Nothing moved. For a second.

  Then they all charged.

  The various howls and screams made Kate’s eardrums ring. She braced herself. Her mind reeled. What was she going to do? There were too many of them. Creatures of all kinds. They would rip her apart.

  No.

  This was a test. Kress believed she could somehow survive this. She had to survive this. She had to find Jessie, and this gaggle of freaks would...not...stop her.

  There were still cuts on her arms and shoulders. Not many. Not very much blood. But Kress!

  Kate spun on her heel and jumped off the table, tackling Kress. They both crashed to the floor. Kress jabbed an elbow in her gut to shove her off. She slapped her hand on his face, right over where she’d cut him.

  The sound of chairs toppling over and the continued battle cries of thirteen different kinds of monster swelled behind Kate. She twisted to face them while keeping her hand on Kress’s cut. Her muscles clenched. Her stomach flipped. Dizziness turned her head. She held out her free hand, fingers splayed, palm facing the oncoming attackers.

  Then Kate screamed.

  The blood against her hand on Kress burned like liquid fire. Yet it didn’t hurt. In fact, it sent a quiver of pleasure through her body a lot like the last pulse of an orgasm. From her other hand came an invisible force as strong as the aftershock of a passing jet. Her arm kicked back like a fired cannon.

  The force blew away from her in a wave. It h
it the table first, flipping it up on its long end until it collided with the chandelier. The chandelier exploded sparks and shards of glass while the table slammed back to the floor. The wave continued forward, lifting the entire baker’s dozen of supernatural creatures—even the ghost—off the floor and sent them sailing backward.

  The clear blob smacked the far wall and stuck there like a hunk of gel. Several others also hit the walls, some of them cracking the polished wood paneling. Little Wertz cart wheeled through the air and landed on top of one of his compatriots like a tossed doll.

  Every one of them fell to the floor and stayed there.

  The broken chandelier dropped a few more pieces and sparked again. The tick of falling splinters settled. Grunts and moans filled the following silence.

  “Unbelievable.”

  Kress.

  Kate whirled back to him, ready for a fight, but he lay propped against the wall grinning. The cut on his face had disappeared completely. A quick check showed that her own cuts had done the same. Kate had no understanding of how that worked, but this healing side-effect of using blood for magic seemed worth it all on its own.

  “You’re even more powerful than we could have hoped.”

  Kate scanned the floor, found the knife she had cut him with, and scooped it up. She pointed the business end right in his face. “Give me one reason I shouldn’t kill you right now.”

  “For starters, you’re not a killer.”

  “I didn’t used to have magic power either. Things change.”

  “No. I know what the eyes of a killer look like. You don’t have them.”

  She shook the knife threateningly. “What the hell are you trying to do to me?”

  He raised his eyebrows, looked beyond her to the wreckage, said, “Isn’t it obvious. I’m trying to awaken you.”

  She snorted. “I’m wide awake now. And I’ve had my fill of you and your surprises. I’m leaving.”

  He nodded as if expecting her response. “I’ll have Mica show you out.”

  Kate pushed the knife a couple inches closer. “Just give me directions. I’ll see myself out.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  They had constructed the thing behind the science building. To Lockman it looked like the entrance to a tunnel without the tunnel. A metal arch about two-hundred feet wide stood between a pair of blocky machines with matching computer terminals built in. A man in a lab coat stood at each terminal, staring at the screen in front of him and occasionally typing something, first one, then the other. Lockman realized they were texting back and forth, communicating whatever needed communicating between the stations.

  Adam had already rolled up their convoy of vehicles for the trip, which included a pair of crop dusters each on its own flatbed towed by a semi. The bulk of the vehicles were basic troop transports. A fleet of them large enough to take eight-hundred bodies through a magic portal/wormhole hybrid and to the northern most city in the United States. A city trapped in night and overrun by vamps.

  The portal wouldn’t drop them right in the middle of the city, of course. They targeted an open region to the east far enough away to cover their arrival. This was why they had the vehicle transports rather than having everyone march on through on foot.

  Lockman watched from the sidelines some of the higher ranked members shout orders and organize the gathering. Troops in heavy snow gear and armed with automatic rifles filed into the transports, their sizes so diverse it was almost comical. One look at these troops would tell even the most civil of civilians that these guys didn’t belong to the standard military.

  Adam crossed the way over to Lockman. “We’re looking at about another hour before we head out.”

  “I can’t believe these guys pulled this off. Four days ago we were facing weeks to fully mobilize into Barrow. Now it’s an hour.”

  “Obstermeyer said you looked a little worried about the blood use. You had him panicking, thinking the stores were low.”

  “Just seems like a lot of blood.”

  “A lot less than what the vamps in Barrow have shed, I’ll bet. Or what they’ll shed if Gabriel gets involved.”

  “You don’t have to sell me, Adam.” He pointed at the archway. “Things are already set to go.”

  “I know. I’m just trying—”

  “To comfort me?” Lockman turned his head and spat. “Nothing’s going to comfort me until we get Jess back and Gabriel’s gone.”

  The moment of truth.

  Didn’t sound like an apt phrase to Lockman. More like the moment of craziness. His gut turned to stone at the mere thought of walking through the scientists’ contraption. His luck, they’d end up teleported to the moon.

  No backing out now, though.

  The machine hummed to life before an audience of over eight-hundred. Many of them hunkered in the trucks, the trucks running, plumes of blue exhaust blooming from their tailpipes. Others on foot around the transports, weapons ready, to form a perimeter as they arrived. Lockman remained on foot as well, Adam at his side. He and a few of the other ranking members would take up the rear. Another difference from the old days, where he would have found himself on the frontlines, one of the first to charge in.

  Leadership had its rewards. Everyone else became cannon fodder for your protection.

  “Maybe I should head in with the lead group,” Lockman said, knowing Adam’s response to that idea.

  The ogre grunted. “Shut the fuck up.”

  A more terse response than expected. Still, Lockman shut up. Too late to change the plan anyway. A flash, like lightning, filled the arch in the machine. Another several strobes quickly followed, accompanied by an ear-jabbing crack. Then the light became solid, filling the arch like a glowing sheet of glass. But unlike a window, Lockman couldn’t see anything on the other side. A complete whitewash stood between them and their destination.

  Adam shaded his eyes against the light with a hand. “Move out,” he shouted.

  The front crescent of troops on foot strode toward the light, about a dozen of them, and hesitated as a group for a second, turned to silhouettes against the glowing sheet stretched across the arch. The second passed. All twelve hefted their rifles and stepped through.

  Lockman’s jaw ached; he clenched his teeth so hard.

  No screaming. No flying sparks or explosions.

  They passed through the light and disappeared.

  Lockman and Adam exchanged a glance. Lockman could tell from the ogre’s face that, despite all his pep-talking and support of the plan, even he had expected something to go wrong.

  “Looks like we’re good,” Adam said.

  “We’ll see.”

  The whole group continued to move forward through the arch. The transports next, driving through as if pulling into the Lincoln Tunnel. Still, nothing blew up or caught fire or so much as broke down. The scientists standing by to one side of the machine, including Obstermeyer, all wore self-congratulatory grins. Lockman expected them to start black-slapping each other any second.

  When it was their turn to go in, Lockman never hesitated. If he could command all those ahead of him to go through, he could go through himself. Adam apparently felt the same way, as he tracked alongside Lockman up to the light, both of them squinting. They carried matching rifles. If Adam hadn’t been two feet taller and green, he and Lockman could have been twins.

  The mermaid in her electric chair, the Golem, Dixon, and the shape shifter still in her little girl form—who in hell knew why—did not move forward as quickly. The hesitation told Lockman a lot more about their character than any of the arguments they’d had around the table in the War Room. Dixon’s fear didn’t surprise him. Those that shouted the loudest usually were trying to drown out the voice of doubt squawking in their souls. But Alexia and the shape shifter? The golem?

  Did they sense something to make them pause?

  Lockman didn’t have a chance to ask. He kept on moving and stepped into the portal, clutching his rifle a little tighter. He sho
uld have asked, though.

  Because what he found on the other side changed everything.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Kate followed Kress’s directions on how to get out of the building, getting twisted around only once in the maze of hallways and stairwells on the way. Finally, she came to a hall that led to a set of double doors trimmed in gold and painted red. The hallway itself had no decorations, made of cinderblock walls painted a matching red to the doors. A red carpet with a golden pattern woven through it ran the length of the hall. The strangest feature, though, was how the hall looked at least a hundred yards long.

  Had to be some kind of optical illusion. It made Kate dizzy to look at.

  Where was she?

  What was this place?

  She shook off the questions and started down the hall. None of that mattered. She needed to get the hell out. End of story.

  The hundred-yard walk ended in five steps.

  One moment, the doors at the end looked tiny enough to fit a dollhouse. The next, Kate found herself almost smacking face-first into them. When she looked over her shoulder, the hall stretched at least a hundred yards behind her.

  The doors themselves hummed like an old-fashioned humidifier. When she placed a hand on the surface, she felt a vibration buzz through her. She reached tentatively for the handle to one door, half-expecting to receive a shock. All she felt was that same vibration, though.

  What happens when I open this door?

  She recalled the endless grasslands seen from Kress’s penthouse and out her bedroom window. A trek through miles of nothing stretched before her. No wonder Kress had so happily told her how to reach the door. She had nowhere to go.

  But she couldn’t stay here. Not any longer. Not after all they had done to her.

  What about finding Jessie?

  She clenched the door handle. She knew how to bleed. She could figure out the rest on her own. Maybe she could even use magic to somehow travel as well. Only one way to find out.