by Jack Conner
“Nothing we can’t handle, though.” Danielle stubbed out her cigarette and let herself unwind. “Thank goodness we’ve got Sophe and Jean-Pierre. They’ve agreed to alternate the thrones with us—at least, until we find a new leader—we don’t want to be doing this forever—or until we establish a form of democracy.”
“Democracy,” Harry said. “Ruegger, I thought you were opposed to the idea. You always said people weren’t informed enough, because of all the misinformation out there in the media, and that people didn’t have enough of a selection in terms of candidates to make a good choice. I can’t believe you’d turn presidential on me.”
Ruegger almost looked sheepish. “True,” he said. “But with a small population like the Empire, it may just work. And there won’t be any stupid parties. Just individuals, with individual beliefs. That’s it. At least, that’s what Danielle and I, Ladrido, and Jean-Pierre and Sophe, are driving for. Whether or not the population accepts it remains to be seen.”
“And if they do?”
“Check this, Harry,” Danielle said. “The Sangro Sankts have offered us positions as Chiefs of Police in the event that we can ever get ourselves uncrowned.” She shook her head again. “You never know, do you? These guys are a thousand years old, each, and they want us youngsters to be their chiefs! Talk about a lack of direction. But they’re trying hard to pioneer a new way of life—that’s something I can respect them for—and are having a hard time with it. If they want some guidance, Ruegger and I are up to it.”
“So, will you? Become Chiefs of Police?”
“It’s a possibility. Meanwhile, we’re stuck at the Castle, except for when Sophia and Jean-Pierre take over and we get some free time, like now.”
Taking the hint, Harry smiled. “Well, thanks for catching me up. Anyone up for a drink?”
They both accepted, and he crossed to the wet-bar, mixed two drinks and returned.
“Good,” said Ruegger, sipping. “But what is it?”
“Oh, just something I made up. A little orange juice, a little aged whiskey, some cinnamon …I’m becoming quite the bartender.”
“What happened to Cloire?” Danielle said.
“She left just last week. Not permanently, don’t get me wrong. She went off to find Vistrot. She’s always said she thought he was still alive out there.”
“From what Amelia said, he might be.”
“He is.” Harry withdrew a folded envelope from a pocket and extracted the single sheet of paper it contained. “I got this two days ago.”
“From the Titan?”
“None other. He says he found out about Cloire’s obsession to find him. Having his infinite resources—I’m exaggerating here; actually, it’s a pretty modest letter—he found out about me and Cloire. Hence, the letter starts with ‘For the eyes of Cloire and Harry Lavaca only’. Though he goes on to say I can tell Jean-Pierre about it, too.” He smiled. “I wonder if he placed her name that way on purpose. Cloire Lavaca ...” He ran a suddenly nervous hand through his hair and went on hurriedly: “So I can’t quite read it to you, but I doubt he’d object too much if I gave you two, of all people, an account of what it says.”
“Which is?” said Ruegger.
“He talks of the Scouring. He actually apologizes for it. Says he was swept up in dreams of world-wide power. Then his partner, Amelia, tells him to kill Kristen.”
“We’ve heard of her,” said Danielle.
“Amelia gave him this ultimatum: either Vistrot kills Kristen painlessly or Amelia makes it painful. If Vistrot doesn’t kill Kristen, Amelia kills him and/or kicks him out of the whole operation. So he has no choice, really. He says he went so far as to put his hands around Kristen’s neck, but as soon as her eyes popped open he started crying and begging her forgiveness. She grants it. He takes Kristen—and some money; he’s not a fool—and leaves for parts unknown. Doesn’t say where they went, but he wants Cloire to know that he’s out of the crime lord game altogether. He and Kristen are on their honeymoon, and she’s convinced him to lead a good life. Not that she needed to. It sounds like he made his decision the night he defied Amelia’s ultimatum.”
Finishing his drink, Ruegger said, “She told me it wasn’t really an ultimatum. She said she was testing him, and that he did the right thing. I don’t know how much of that was Amelia and how much Junger and Jagoda, but my guess is that if he’d actually harmed Kristen, Amelia would have killed him.”
“Pretty cruel test. And it may have killed an innocent girl.”
Ruegger thought on that for a moment. “Maybe not. I think Amelia saw something in him, something that hinted that he wanted more than power, something fundamentally good, and staged the test because she knew what the outcome would be. Then again, I could be wrong.” He arched his back and stretched his arms, getting himself limber. “Harry, what about Marcela—I mean, the painting of her? Did you burn it?”
Harry sighed. “No. I put it in the attic. In the end, I figured that, symbolically speaking, burning that picture would be destroying my past. At one time, I thought that was the healthy thing to do. Now, though, I think it’s a vital part of me, that I shouldn’t forget it … but by no means should I hang it on my living room wall, either. When I’m ready, someday, I’ll go up to the attic and confront it. But not yet.”
Cloire had helped him in that decision, he remembered. He couldn’t wait till she returned, but he didn’t want this talk to turn maudlin. This should be a celebration.
Apparently Danielle felt the same way. She patted Ruegger on the chest. “Come on, baby, let’s go show Harry what all this means to us, what this whole experience has done.”
Ruegger groaned, but followed her lead inside the house, presumably to their suitcases. Harry waited, taking out a case of cigars and lighting one. The still-warm breeze carried the smoke lazily away, past the rustling palm trees and the white beach, beneath the benevolent eye of the moon, high and nearly full.
The odd flock reemerged, and at the sight of them Harry nearly fell out of his chair he was laughing so hard. Tears came to his eyes. Both still wore their black jeans and black steel-toed work boots, but their shirts ... Danielle wore a psychedelic tie-dyed affair, while Ruegger wore an honest-to-God Hawaiian shirt. Still laughing, Harry rose from his chair and embraced them both.
“My,” he said. “I’d never have thought ... color. I thought I’d seen it all when I saw dragons!”
He mixed another round of drinks, thinking that with all they’d been through, all the horrors they’d escaped, the most visible sign of that change was a broadened wardrobe. And yet, really, it said quite a lot. Colors. No more doom and gloom.
He herded them back toward the table, where they all took up cigars and drinks, their conversation calmly set aside for the moment. A time of peace and friendship overcame them. They sat and smoked and drank and watched the undulating liquid movement of the ocean and the waves crashing on the moon-drenched shore. Overhead, the sky blackened and the stars twinkled behind the thin shifts of near-translucent clouds. The smell of the sea, of a good cigar, the feeling of being with friends ... Harry felt at peace for the first time in what seemed like forever.
At last, Danielle said, “I think we should have a toast.”
They raised their glasses, then paused.
“What should we toast to?” said Ruegger.
“We should …” Harry considered. After all they’d been through, what single toast could possibly sum it up? As host, he felt it his duty to speak it.
“Guys, I love you like family,” he said. “In point of fact, after this cigar I’m going to take you inside and fix you an old Mexican specialty of mine I haven’t made since Marcela died. So I can think of a thousand toasts to love, to friendship, to honor ... but tonight, at this second, I think the only possible thing we can sincerely toast to is this—to the hell of it!”
“To the hell of it,” they said, and raised their glasses to the night.
THE END
AUTHOR�
��S NOTE
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The Atomic Sea
I'm probably best known for my Atomic Sea series, which is a mixture of epic fantasy, steampunk and science fiction, with a dose of Lovecraftian horror. It's gotten rave reviews and has made it to the Top 100 on Amazon. What's it about? Here's the tagline: In a time of global war, one man will have to unlock the secrets of the Atomic Sea or the whole world will be plunged into nightmare.
The Atomic Sea features action, adventure, romance and mystery, with a crazy backdrop of zeppelins, world war, mutants, sea creatures and dense atmosphere. The Atomic Sea: Part One can be found here:
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Continue turning the pages for a sneak peak at Chapter One of The Atomic Sea.
If you're looking for another epic series to start, try my five-part medieval epic fantasy Lord of the Black Tower or my contemporary fantasy / horror series The Living Night. If you're interested in "traditional" epic fantasy, a la Lord of the Rings (but darker and more action-packed), check out Lord of the Black Tower. You can grab the first two volumes, which together tell a complete story, in the Lord of the Black Land Omnibus:
When a dark power rises, only one man can stand against it.
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PS: Turn the page to read the first chapter of The Atomic Sea: Part One.
THE ATOMIC SEA
VOLUME ONE
by Jack Conner
Copyright 2014
All rights reserved
Cover image used with permission
PART ONE:
From the Depths
Chapter 1
Whale songs groaned through the hull of the ship as Dr. Avery and the sailors played cards. The cabin reverberated to the sounds—long, tapering peals that stood hairs on end—and alchemical lanterns threw drunken green shadows against the walls. Sailors glanced around uneasily.
Avery tossed his cards face-down and said, “Well, then, lads, if no one will match me, I believe that pot is mine.”
The seamen muttered as he raked in his winnings. Some were big men, whalers, hairy and covered in tattoos. The Navy men and women tended to be slimmer, neater. The room smelled of oil, leather and cigar smoke, some of which curled up from Avery’s own cigar clamped between his teeth. He was not a large man, but somehow that made him stand out all the more. His smoke drifted around his balding head with its black comb-over and joined the cloud that stirred against the ceiling.
“That’s your fourth haul tonight,” said Janx, one of the whalers, tall and rawboned. His nose had been torn off in a whaling catastrophe years ago, and a piece of leather covered the hole where it had been, held in place by straps that went round his head. “And three without showin’ your cards.”
“Feel free to match my bet next time,” Avery said. “It has been an unusually good night, I must admit.”
It was Janx’s turn to deal, and the cards fluttered with surprising grace through his rough, scarred hands. Scars and tattoos seemed to mark every inch of his body. His shaven head gleamed in the light.
“Your luck’ll turn, Doc,” he said. “See if it don’t.”
Avery raised his eyebrows. After a look at his cards, he said, “I think not.”
“You’re bluff—”
The door burst open. Lt. Hinis stormed in, dressed in her environment suit, huge and bulky with its bronze helmet and grilled visor. “Doctor, come quick, we need your help. There’s been a killing.”
“Another one?” Janx said. “Damn.”
“Has the killer been caught?” Avery asked.
“No,” Hinis said. “But the patrols are out. The murder happened outside.”
Avery crossed to the wall, where with Hinis’s assistance he donned an environment suit of his own. Like hers, it resembled a diving suit of antiquity, all treated canvas, brass joinings and big brass helm. There were no true diving suits anymore, of course; no one was insane enough to use one, not for a thousand years. In the background, the whale songs bellowed louder—closer—and whalers glanced at each other soberly.
As Avery reached the door, Janx grunted, and the doctor looked back to see that Janx had flipped over Avery’s cards. A two of jades nestled against a three of fates.
Janx shook his head. “Never saw a worse hand.” He hesitated, then said, “Y’know, Doc, the killer could still be out there. Might be I should come with you.”
Avery waited while Janx shrugged on an environment suit, and they followed Hinis out into the night.
* * *
Avery braced himself against the wind. Shouldn’t have had that second bourbon, he thought as the wind battered him, dragging at his legs, tugging at his arms. It gusted up from the south, whipping mist off the waves that pitched and flung the ship like a cork. Huge and metal-hulled, a fully-armed warship in a time of war, the GS Maul plowed the dark waters, and the ocean responded with fury.
As Avery inched his way toward the stern behind Lt. Hinis, their life-lines connecting them to the gunwale, he gazed out over the sea—the eerie sea, the infamous sea. The Atomic Sea. Ever since research had begun into atomic energy some twenty years ago, people had slapped that label on it, accurate or not. Finally, more than a thousand years after the sea’s transformation, people had a name for it that wasn’t mired in superstition. And the ocean did emit radiation, at least in certain quarters. But that wasn’t why people h
ad named it what they had. One glance explained it.
Lightning blasted from wave-top to wave-top, some bolts arcing high into the night, lancing the very clouds overhead. The whole sea roiled and bubbled, as if someone had turned up a giant stove burner on the sea floor. Occasionally a bubble as big as a boat would burst from the depths. The gas alone was enough to kill, but sometimes a stab of lightning would hit a pocket and the whole thing would go up like an Uracuth candle. It was a frothing, mad, electric sea, and the things that plied its waters were strange and dangerous.
“Look at that,” Janx said, pointing to something in the distance.
Far off, the geyser-like plumes of whales expelling water caught the star-light—beautiful, strange, and too close for Avery’s liking.
“Gorgeous, ain’t they?” said Janx. “You’d never guess what terrors they are.”
“I can imagine.”
“I remember one time years ago when one big bastard smashed me ship—killed everyone aboard, but me. I was thrown up on a strange beach, and, oh, it was a sight. Glittering black rocks far as you could see, great big mountains stretching off into the distance.”
“An island?” Avery almost smiled. Half of Janx’s stories began with him being washed up on some island.