Black Fall (The Black Year Series Book 1)

by D. J. Bodden

  Then Edwards stopped by with the priest. He didn’t look like much: no vestments, just a regular guy in his mid-fifties with a rough, tanned face, short white hair, and a stubbly beard. He wore jeans and a worn navy blue pea coat. He reminded Jonas of an old fisherman. He moved from hunter to hunter, talking with them in low tones while Edwards made coffee. Comforting soldiers before the big battle, Jonas thought. He skimmed the priest’s mind and saw that he was tired, and a little scared, but seemed resigned to the task at hand. It wasn’t immediately obvious why he’d agreed to go along with the plan at all, but as Jonas pushed a little deeper, there was something else… the priest’s faith. It felt strong, like it could stand in the face of a hurricane and not budge an inch. Suddenly, it felt like someone or something had smacked Jonas on the back of the head and his connection to the priest was immediately severed.

  “Ow!” he said, sitting up. He looked around, but no one was close enough to have hit him.

  “Sorry,” said the priest, giving him a slight smile. “He doesn’t like people poking around my head. You must be Jonas.” He extended his hand.

  “That’s me,” Jonas said, and shook his hand. The old man’s skin was rough and callused, but his grip was gentle. “Who doesn’t like people poking around your head?”

  The priest smiled. “Why don’t we step outside for a minute? There are some things we should talk about before Wednesday.”

  Jonas frowned, then shrugged. It couldn’t hurt. He followed the old man to the small roof deck, waving Kieran away when the werewolf moved to follow. He and the priest leaned against the railing and looked down at the pedestrians below.

  “How are you holding up, Jonas?”

  Jonas raised an eyebrow and looked at the priest. No one had bothered to ask him that recently. “I’m okay, I think. Tired.”

  The priest nodded. “You’ve been through a lot lately, and I’m sorry for that. Do you know what you’ll be facing when you find this thing?”

  Jonas started to answer, then remembered how many times he’d gotten in trouble for making assumptions, lately. “No, I actually don’t. I’m not even sure what a demon is.”

  The priest nodded, thoughtfully. “Good for you, Jonas. That kind of honesty is unusual, at any age. The short answer, which is good for starters, is that a demon is a lie.”

  “So, it’s not real?”

  The priest shook his head. “No, it’s as real as you and I, but at its core, it’s an untruth, like ‘money can buy happiness,’ or ‘you have to be selfless to be good.’ You see, Jonas, that’s how they worm their way into people’s heads, by making them believe in lesser evils until they can take over completely.”

  “So how do I fight it?”

  “You don’t. Fighting a full possession is a quick trip to the graveyard. And never try to negotiate with it; any deal it offers will only result in more mayhem.”

  Jonas nodded. Fangston had mentioned the same thing.

  “We can always discuss this in more detail later. But for now, just get the information you need, bring the ward down, and leave the rest to me.”

  Jonas looked down at the priest’s withered hands on the railing. “Are you some kind of supernatural, too?”

  The priest chuckled. “No, you could do the same thing I’m going to do. God’s just had more time to pound me into the right shape.”

  Jonas looked away, out toward Central Park. The sun was sinking below the skyline, painting the rooftops red and orange, turning skyscraper windows into liquid gold.

  “More of them out than usual tonight,” the priest said. “That’s usually a bad sign.”

  “More of what?” Jonas answered.

  “Watchers,” the priest replied. He muttered a few words, then touched the back of Jonas’ head. For a brief moment, Jonas saw several hooded forms, in flowing gray robes, standing on the corners of nearby rooftops. They were looking down at the people below. Then he blinked, and they were gone. He turned to question the priest, but the old man was already walking back inside.

  Jonas followed.

  Inside, the priest was already talking to Eugene, so Jonas put his questions on the back burner and walked over to speak with Edwards.

  “You need something, Jonas?” Edwards asked. He’d been watching the hunters in the room, and seemed to be in high spirits.

  “I have a history question.”

  Edwards grinned. “Okay, what is it this time? You ready to upgrade to gunpowder and artillery?”

  Jonas smiled and said, “No, actually, I was wondering if there were any assumptions a military commander would make, if he was a few centuries old, that would be different from a modern-day point of view.”

  Edwards nodded and took a sip from his mug. “Well, the first thing to understand is that, up until World War II, your average commander had very little use for their infantry, other than cannon fodder. There was no press to comment on his tactics, and people assumed that soldiers would die. Specialists, like engineers or knights, were valued, and often ransomed back from the enemy if captured. But foot soldiers were often executed on the spot. That’s why Vietnam was such a shock to the military mind, it was the first time a population really followed the casualty count, though far from the first time popular opinion influenced a war.

  They talked for about twenty more minutes, then Edwards and the priest left. Jonas was half-asleep on the couch, having just finished the second of his books, and thinking about getting a blood pack from his room, when Madoc said, Jonas, wake up. Something’s wrong.

  Jonas sat up, and Madoc connected him into an overhead view of the city. There were dozens of people — supernaturals — fleeing the warded area in every direction. He looked at Frank and said, “Are you seeing this?”

  Frank nodded, frowning.

  I can’t track this many at once, Madoc said, sounding overwhelmed. Then the overhead view of New York flickered and narrowed to just the blocks around the warded area. That’s about the best I can do.

  The door opened and Eugene, coming back from his shift on watch, picked up a newspaper and said, “What’s going on?”

  “Not sure,” Frank replied, “Looks like they’re all making a break for it at the same time.”

  “You think they’re running away?” Jonas said.

  “That’s what it looks like, kid. Smart. We can’t contain that many, not with the number of people we have.”

  A hunter/werewolf team moved to intercept one of the fleeing groups. When the blue and red figures merged, they stopped moving for a moment, then parted ways.

  Madoc? What happened? Jonas asked. He didn’t get an answer.

  After a few seconds of silence, Frank’s phone rang. He picked it up. “What? You’re sure? I’ll take care of it.” He looked up and said, “Madoc?”

  “He’s not answering,” Jonas said.

  “Make him answer,” Frank said.

  Madoc! Jonas projected. More of the overhead view faded, and some of the red figures jumped around, like they were teleporting from place to place.

  What? I can’t do this and talk to you at the same time.

  “Jim says the group they intercepted were just kids; they let them go. Can you filter out anyone who couldn’t possibly be a threat?”

  Madoc didn’t answer, but red dots started disappearing. First there were one hundred, then fifty, then twenty, then they were all clear. The view expanded back to cover all of Manhattan.

  “They were all students?” Frank said.

  Students, instructors, a few security guards. All regular Agency personnel, and all varying degrees of frightened, confused, and angry, Madoc said, None were a threat.

  “Why would the Order do that?” Frank asked, “That was a perfect smokescreen to break out or launch an attack.”

  I don’t know, Madoc said.

  Frank ran his hand through his hair, then said, “Pull the hunters back here, Madoc. We should be prepared.

  Jonas hesitated, making sure they were done, then said, Madoc, di
d Eve make it out?

  Yes, she appears to be headed here.

  Thanks.

  “Is Madoc going to be able to handle this operation?” Frank asked. “That was just a hundred people; there are supposedly close to two hundred under the Agency.”

  I’m still here, Frank. And yes, I can handle it in a small, specific area. There are almost two million people in Manhattan, seven times that if you include the Boroughs. I can actively track and screen about three hundred at a time, close in.

  They waited. Eugene went back to reading his paper; Frank paced. The teams of hunters trickled in, asking questions that Frank didn’t have the answers to.

  “Just sit down and get some food in you. You’ll know when I know,” Frank told them.

  Eve’s here, Jonas, Madoc said.

  Jonas got up and opened the door just as Eve was poised to knock.

  “Come in. These are—”

  Viviane pushed past Eve and stepped into the room, immediately locking eyes with Jim.

  “Puppeteer!” Jim shouted, and drew a gun before the others could react. Viviane grabbed Jonas, using him as a shield. He felt a surge of mental energy, and all the other hunters drew their weapons and pointed them at Jim.

  “Well, this is awkward,” Jim said, looking at Jonas over his gun sights.

  CHAPTER 24

  “Jonas, why are there hunters in your apartment?” Viviane hissed in his ear.

  “They’re friends,” Jonas said.

  “They don’t look like friends.”

  “Frank, you mind pointing that gun somewhere else?” Jim said.

  “Can’t do it, Jimmy,” Frank said through gritted teeth.

  “Yes you can, Frank. She can’t do this many at once, not if you’re all fighting it,” Jim said. He wasn’t smiling, which was a first for Jonas.

  Viviane shuddered, and Frank quickly swung his weapon to point at her.

  “Jonas, you need to stop this,” Eve said.

  “Atta boy, Frank,” Jim said. “Billy, how ‘bout it, buddy? You gonna let that bloodsucker make you dance?”

  Billy scowled, his arms twitching.

  “Even if you break two away, the others will still shoot you,” Viviane told Jim.

  “I’ll shoot you first,” Jim said, winking at her. “And if I don’t, Frank will.”

  Eugene and Steve suddenly swung their guns on Frank, while Billy’s arms continued to tremble. Then Kieran walked into the room and said, “Uh, guys? What’s going on?”

  “Damn it, Billy! Show a little self-control!” Jim said.

  Jonas noticed sweat running down Billy’s face and neck, just as the man snarled, broke free, and pointed his gun at Viviane.

  Why didn’t you tell me she was with Eve? Jonas asked Madoc.

  I couldn’t see her.

  “That man is insane,” Viviane said, her voice filled with wonder. “Mad as a hatter.”

  “Thank you,” Jim said.

  “Guess we know what Fangston was trying to do, sending them all out at once,” Frank said. He aimed for Viviane’s head and started to squeeze the trigger.

  “What?” Viviane said.

  “Jonas, do something!” Eve said.

  Jonas could feel the amount of power emanating from Viviane, but she was struggling to maintain control of eleven people at once. And Jim probably counted for more; his mind – like a black hole – was swallowing her attempts to control him. Remembering how much he’d strained just to make two people see a slightly different version of the apartment, Jonas couldn’t imagine how she was managing complete motor control of people who’d been dealing with vampires for years.

  It didn’t take much, just the equivalent of a mental shove.

  Viviane stiffened. “Jonas? What are you—?”

  She crumpled to the floor, unconscious. The hunters, who’d still been under her control, all started moving at the same time, shouting and pointing their guns. Except for two of them, who also collapsed.

  “Freeze!” Frank shouted, stopping the hunters in their tracks. “Unload and show clear, gents. Nice and steady, now. Lots of firearms being waved around, and far as I can tell, no one needs shooting.”

  The hunters grumbled as they ejected their magazines, racked their weapons, and holstered them, as Frank tapped each of them on the shoulder, one by one, and said, “Safe.”

  Jim went straight to Viviane, hooked his arms under her armpits, and dragged her to a chair.

  “What are you doing with her?” Eve asked.

  “Tying her up and blindfolding her. Any objections?”

  There was a chorus of no’s around the room, except for Eve, who said, “Yes! Absolutely!”

  “Handle your girlfriend, Jonas,” Jim said, as he zip-tied Viviane’s wrists together behind the chair.

  “Excuse me?” Eve’s eyes narrowed, she curled her hands into fists, and her face turned bright red. Jonas had seen the look before, during training.

  “Uh, guys?”

  The hunters were picking up their gear, talking in twos and threes, while throwing dirty looks at Viviane. Kieran was staring at Eve, his eyes glazing over.

  “Guys!” Jonas shouted, adding a little force to it with his mind. The conversations stopped; even Eve turned to look at him.

  Jim said, “I’ll shoot you too, kid. Don’t test me.”

  “Enough, Jim!” Frank said. “Jonas, what is it?”

  “Guys, I’d like to introduce Eve. She’s very capable, and doesn’t like to be ignored, and if you don’t shut up and listen for a minute, she’s going to make you listen.” He glanced at Eve and whispered, “Is that about right?”

  “Yes, that’s about right,” she muttered through clenched teeth.

  “She’s just a kid,” Steve said, “what could she possibly—” Eve snapped her head toward him and he went limp, falling backward. His head bounced when it hit the floor.

  “Eve?” Frank said, clearing his throat. “Jim’s just going to finish tying up the lady here, but we won’t hurt her. Otherwise, except for Steve, you have our undivided attention. I’m assuming he’s just asleep?”

  Eve brushed a lock of hair from her face. “He’ll be fine,” she said. “Probably have a headache and a nice sized bump on his head, when he wakes up.” Then she turned to Jonas and nodded toward Frank. “Who’s in charge, him or you?”

  Jonas wasn’t sure how to answer. But before he could speak, Kieran said, “Frank is second in command of the hunters, but Jonas is in charge of the whole operation.” Frank started to say something, but Kieran put a hand on his shoulder — the way Jonas had seen Phillip do to Bert — and whispered something that Jonas couldn’t hear.

  Frank nodded, “Kieran’s right. Jonas is in charge.”

  Eve huffed. She pulled off her gloves and scarf, unbuttoned her coat and placed everything neatly on top of the makeshift dining room table, while everyone waited. Billy shuffled his feet and looked at Frank, who shook his head. Eugene chuckled, sat back on the couch, and picked up his newspaper. Jim finished tying a dishtowel around Viviane’s eyes.

  Eve turned back to face them, and said, “Viviane’s been protecting me from the Director for the past two days. There are non-enforcers with weapons in the Agency, now. Most of the real enforcers were sent on missions over the past month. Fangston tried to summon me to his office, alone, three times in the past twenty-four hours, and Viviane sent his goons packing. He’s been increasingly erratic, beat at least two students, and dismembered one of the zombies. So I told Viviane everything we’d found out. She didn’t believe me until this evening, when Fangston let Doris out of the lobby.”

  “He what?” Frank, Kieran, and Jonas said at the same time.

  Eve reached out to Jonas with her mind, and he saw it through her eyes — walking through the lobby of the building, the smell of burnt rubber in the air. The security guards were dead, their mouths open, their skin shriveled, their eye sockets empty. The charred bodies were still smoking. Jared, the security chief, slumped over the podiu
m, his corpse twitching irregularly.

  Jonas felt like he’d been punched in the gut. I should have moved on the Agency sooner, he thought. Jared is dead because of me.

  Eve’s eyes were watering. She sniffed and said, “Anyway, Viviane ordered the evacuation. She got as many out as she could.”

  No! How could I have missed this? Madoc said.

  “What’s wrong with the specter?” Frank asked.

  “You found him?” Eve said.

  “I did,” Jonas answered. He turned to Frank, “I’m not sure. Something to do with Doris.”

  “Who’s Doris?” Steve said, rubbing his head.

  “A lich,” Frank replied.

  Eugene groaned. “I hate those.”

  “Everybody hates liches,” Jim said.

  They’re dead, Madoc said.

  “Who?” Frank and Jonas asked at the same time.

  All of them. Homeless man, slumped against the side of Grand Central. A full subway car on the ‘6’ line. A couple and their nine-month-old child in Central Park. A taxi driver, dead at the wheel, cars honking behind him. Thirty people are dead, and I didn’t see it. I have no idea where she is, but she’s headed this way.

  Frank frowned. “What do you mean? It’s just one person. I thought you could—”

  She’s a lich, Madoc said, More powerful now than she was in life. If I look wide, she’s invisible. If I look too close, she’ll shred me. Same goes with other magical creatures. There’s nothing I can do.

  “What about this one?” Frank said, nodding toward Viviane.

  She was hiding herself, somehow. Puppeteers are weird.

  Jim chuckled.

  “It doesn’t matter, I know what Fangston’s doing,” Jonas said, grabbing his coat.

  “What’s that?” Frank said.

  “Giving me a choice, same as he did when he put Kieran in Grand Central — bring him the journal or more people die. We need to move on the Agency… now.”

  Eve touched his shoulder. “Jonas, Fangston can’t control Doris. She’s just feeding to regain her strength. She could keep killing no matter what you do, or she could be off the island already.”