by D. J. Bodden
“Sam, give me your pistol.”
“What? Jonas, what’s—”
“Now, Sam!”
Jonas took the gun from Sam’s hand and shot Fangston in the head. The body turned to ash. He’ll heal, Jonas reminded himself. Behind him, the demon roared and stood, throwing the APC clear, just as Jonas shoved the thing from his mind and woke up.
CHAPTER 28
“Jonas? What happened?” Kieran said. “Fangston dropped to the floor like a puppet with his strings cut.”
As usual, very little time had passed in the real world while Jonas was in his mind, but he felt like he’d been fighting for hours. His head hurt, and the left side of his body was numb.
“You did it, Jonas!” Eve said, and hugged him.
He shook his head, and immediately regretted it. “Demon’s still in there,” he said, then looked at Kieran. “Carry me.”
Fangston’s body began to twitch.
“Hurry,” Jonas said, and Kieran scooped him up by the shoulders and legs.
“Which way?” Kieran asked.
“Back the way we came,” Jonas said. It took all his willpower to say the words, and he felt like he was going to puke on Kieran at any moment.
Just then, Fangston’s body convulsed, his back arched, and he screamed, “Jonas!”
“Run,” Jonas said, weakly.
Kieran jogged, carrying Jonas in his arms. Jonas’ head flopped to the side; he couldn’t raise it. “Left. Down the stairs. Second right,” he croaked. Kieran obeyed without asking questions, and Eve ran beside him. An alarm sounded, and Order operatives scrambled to and fro. Kieran bowled over anyone who got in their way.
Finally, they arrived at a room in the back of a maintenance area that looked like a janitor’s closet. It was only six-by-six feet inside, but every surface was covered with traceries, runes, and small objects. To Jonas, they looked alive, as if they were wriggling along the circles and shapes that were carved and drawn into the floor, ceiling, and walls. On the floor, in the middle of a small circle, was an engraved skull wrapped in gold wire. “The skull. Break it,” Jonas said.
“Which one?” Eve said.
Jonas frowned. There were three other skulls, but the one in the far right corner was glowing. “That one,” he said weakly, pointing.
Kieran propped Jonas against the wall, walked over, and stomped on the skull. Jonas heard a crunching sound, and felt the spell unravel like a lit fuse.
Jonas, are you okay? Madoc said.
Tired, Jonas answered.
A moment later, three werewolves and a vampire burst into the room.
“Eve, a little boost?” Kieran said. Eve looked at him, and he immediately changed into his wolf form. At the sight of the winter wolf, one of the werewolves turned quickly and ran back the way he’d come. The vampire, one with a little symbol on his collar, shouted something, and the two remaining werewolves launched themselves at the white wolf. Kieran backhanded one into a wall and jabbed his claws into the other’s chest three times in rapid succession. It collapsed, mouth frothing with black blood.
The vampire attacked with a silver dagger, and Kieran stumbled back, holding his head from a fresh cut. Sensing victory, the vampire rushed in with the dagger raised, but Eve bowled into him. When he turned the knife on her, taking his attention off Kieran, the winter wolf grabbed him from behind, sank his claws into both of the vampire’s shoulders, and pulled. The vampire flew apart in a cloud of ash.
Eve picked up the knife, as Madoc connected with Jonas.
Above them, an armored door was blown open with breaching charges. The hunters and Phillip’s werewolves poured into the facility through the room that Jonas’ father had seen right before he’d been captured. They moved quickly, without pausing. They didn’t have to worry about being ambushed, since Madoc could see everything now that the ward was down.
Viviane, Jim, and the werewolf twins — Ryan and Sean — came in through the elevator. Jim kept Viviane safe, while she turned werewolves against their handlers or made vampires drop to the floor, unconscious. When two vampires, and three thralls with guns, tried to kill Jim, she made the thralls shoot their masters, then each other. Jim saw it, gave her a wink, then shot a werewolf as it jumped at her from the staircase. Ryan and Sean worked together, biting and clawing anyone they happened to run across, while Madoc directed them toward high-ranking individuals. They hunted and killed each one, throwing the Order forces into chaos.
My mother’s here, maybe my father, Jonas said.
Mother, got it. Madoc said.
The hunters made it to the officers’ quarters, and ran into heavy resistance.
Jonas sent Madoc an image of the thrall with the scar on her face. I want her kept safe.
Little busy here, Jonas.
Phillip and his werewolves were moving through the dining halls and troop quarters, while Viviane cut off the Order’s access to their armory, preventing the ones who weren’t already armed from getting equipment. Each time one of her puppets was killed she’d take control of another, making them turn and attack their comrades. She kept doing that until they gave up and retreated. When the attacks stopped, Jim shot the ones that were still under her control.
“What are you doing?” Viviane said.
“You should rest,” Jim said, “There’s plenty more if you need them.”
She gave him a funny look, then nodded.
Some of the younger werewolves were surrendering; Phillip was herding them into a room, under Billy’s supervision. Billy shot two of them for moving too much; the others did their best to look harmless.
“We need to move,” Kieran said. “The fighting is coming this way.”
Kieran slung Jonas over his shoulder, like a sack of potatoes, and the three of them headed lower, moving toward Viviane, Jim, Ryan, and Sean.
Jonas could see the problem — several high-ranking werewolves and vampires were moving toward them. He thought the demon might be with them, but Madoc was having trouble keeping track of it. Two hunters tried to ambush the group and were torn apart. Five of Phillip’s children died the same way. Ryan and Sean managed to drag one of the vampires off, kill him, then flee, drawing three of the demon’s entourage away in the process, only to lead them into an ambush.
Jonas was losing his connection to Madoc. His brain just didn’t seem to be functioning right. Suddenly, three vampires appeared in the passageway before them, two of the vampires stunned Kieran while Eve fought for her life. But just when it seemed they were done for, Phillip arrived, ripping two of the bloodsuckers apart and sending the third fleeing.
“In here, quickly!” Phillip said, gesturing toward a storeroom.
Kieran set Jonas down by the far wall, and Eve plopped down next to him, exhausted. Phillip walked in behind them - Jonas recognized him as much by his voice than anything else. The Macready pack-leader looked his way, and managed a grin, even fully transformed. Blood and ash covered his fur, and his yellow eyes gleamed.
“The others will be here soon. You just need to—”
Phillip stopped mid-sentence and looked down, confused by the silver blade jutting from his chest. He turned to Kieran, his mouth working silently, and Jonas could see the reaction from the silver spreading out from the wound, thickening his blood and turning it black. He reached out with his mind, and there was a flash of thoughts, images, and memories. Then Phillip pitched forward, dead.
The demon was there, Fangston’s body completely under its control. It squatted over Phillip’s corpse, and wiping the black blood from its hands on the werewolf’s fur. Two senior vampires and three werewolves came in behind it.
Kieran howled, the sound reverberating through the walls and passageways of the underground lair. The Order werewolves whined and took a step back, looking to the demon for help. Then Kieran leaned forward and tensed his legs to leap.
But before the winter wolf could strike, the demon blurred and knocked him into the far wall, so forcefully, that he landed in a heap,
unconscious. Eve stayed by Jonas, still holding the knife she’d taken earlier, but there wasn’t much she would be able to do against so many people.
“You gained nothing here,” the demon said, looking at Jonas. “I’m going to cut a path out of here, right through your friends. There are other cells, other plans, other cataclysms in motion. Only you’re not going to be around to see it.” It yanked the sword out of Phillip’s back, and started across the room.
Jonas was too tired to move. “Sorry… Eve,” he managed to croak.
Frank, the priest, and a massive werewolf who had to be Leticia Macready burst into the room. Leticia grabbed two of the senior vampires by their heads and slammed them together, turning them to ash. Frank gunned down a charging werewolf. And the priest, face grim, with blood on his clothes, walked through the gap.
The demon spun. “Kill the priest!” it shrieked.
One of the werewolves launched itself forward, unchallenged. Leticia was busy fighting three smaller werewolves at once, and Frank had his back turned. Jonas felt his neck tighten. Then, just as the werewolf was about to slam into the priest, there was a gust of wind and a tearing sound. The werewolf stopped in his tracks, stood perfectly still, then fell apart in two smoldering halves.
“Did you see that?” Eve said.
Jonas nodded. Only he hadn’t actually seen anything, other than a spontaneous vivisection.
Everything seemed to slow down for Jonas. He sent his last thoughts to Eve; she looked at him with wide eyes. The demon charged. The priest looked up, but instead of flinching or running, he raised his palm toward the demon, touching its forehead, and spoke. Fangston’s body went limp.
The priest sat back against a wall, exhausted like he’d just run a marathon. Frank guarded the exit. Leticia rushed to Phillip’s body, cradling her husband in her arms and rocking back and forth. Kieran staggered to his feet and walked toward Fangston, murder in his eyes.
“Kieran, no!” Jonas said.
Kieran stopped and looked at Jonas, blue eyes glowing. “He was all I had, Jonas. I never got to—”
“It would be murder, Kieran. I gave him my word.”
From the look on Kieran’s face, Jonas may as well have been the one who’d stabbed Phillip instead of the demon.
Jonas passed out.
EPILOGUE
Jonas woke to the glare of fluorescent tube lights, the bare feeling of a hospital gown, and the itchiness of an institutional blanket. A plastic tube snaked up from his left arm to a half-full bag of blood hanging from an IV pole.
Some of his father’s belongings — the old Bible, two sheathed daggers, and a few of the coins — were laid out on his nightstand, and the leather jacket hung from a hook on the wall. His mother watched him from a chair in the far corner of the room. She had an amused smile on her face, and wore her usual black dress and rose pin, as if she spent every day in mourning.
“We won, then,” he managed to say, his throat dry and sore.
“In a manner of speaking, yes,” she answered, staring at him with her inky black eyes.
“How long was I out?”
“You’ve been in a coma for five days, while your brain repaired itself.”
Jonas nodded. He’d never expected to emerge from the fight with Fangston unscathed.
“Did you find Dad?”
There was the faintest pause, then she answered, “No.”
“Eve?” he asked.
“Busy reorganizing your life. She’s quite the young woman,” Alice said, smiling.
“Phillip?”
“Dead, along with several of his kin, some hunters, and a few civilians. But you killed or captured all the members of the Order that were in the base at the time of the attack.”
Jonas felt a lump in his throat. People were dead because of him — people he hadn’t meant to get killed. He forced himself to sit up and thought over what his mother said, remembering Fangston’s comment on the subtlety of old vampires. “Doris escaped, but we got Fangston,” he said. “Is he alive?”
Alice nodded. “Kieran spared him, on your orders. He may never forgive you for that.”
“Where is he?”
“Guarding the door. I’m one of the few people he lets in here.”
Jonas sighed. He felt physically exhausted, but at least he’d woken with his barrier in place. Part of him wanted to shout at his mother for leaving him, to cry for the friends he’d lost, and mourn the abrupt end of normality, but he smothered it under Alice Black’s unblinking gaze.
She broke the silence. “By the time I was your age, my mother and father had been murdered for their lands. I was bartered as a bride to a forty-year-old man in exchange for political goodwill, refused him, was sent to a convent, escaped, joined a pair of mercenaries to pay for my meals, and killed one of them when he found out I was a girl. I’ve buried good friends and seen countless people die. If you survive long enough, so will you.”
“Is that an apology?” Jonas said.
“No. An acknowledgment. You did well.”
“And if I hadn’t?”
“We’d both be dead.”
A shiver ran through his body. He took a deep breath, not because he needed to breathe, but because it calmed him. “Dad’s alive.”
“Yes, but Marcus doesn’t know where he is.”
“Fangston’s conscious?”
“No. I’ve been digging through what’s left of his mind. You did an incredible amount of damage, considering how old Marcus is. Care to tell me how you managed that?”
Jonas stayed silent.
“You’re growing up, Jonas.”
He shrugged, feeling pleased by the comment, but not wanting her to know. “What happens now?”
Alice sighed. She stood and walked over to his bedside, brushing her fingertips against the leather cover of his father’s Bible. “We clean up the mess. There was damage done to the city, civilians killed, a lich set free… you’ve created a real nightmare for the new Director.”
“Who’s that?” Jonas asked.
“Me,” she said, smiling wryly, “and one of the first things I did was make you, Eve, and Kieran provisional enforcers.”
Jonas blinked in surprise. “I’m not sure what that means.”
“It means the Agency can’t afford to have a trainee saving the New York branch. It means you’re a clan leader and I needed to give you a title the council will respect, now that Phillip’s gone. It means people will follow you, and die for you, and you’ll have to train harder than ever to be worthy of them. And, unfortunately, it means your childhood is over. But you’ll see and do things no human would dream of, so I’m excited for you in that respect.” She tousled his hair the way she always did.
“And if I choose not to stay with the Agency?”
Alice gave him a sad smile. “I tried that. It only lasted sixteen years, and it cost me your father.”
Jonas nodded. There was no escaping it. In a way, it had been his choice. He could have run, or turned the journal over to the Order. Now, he had Eve, Kieran, the Macreadys, and others to think of.
“Before I go, Madoc wanted me to give you this,” Alice said. She handed him a thin, metallic tube on a silver chain. It felt warm, and Jonas could see a thin tracery of light woven around it.
“What is it?”
“Madoc’s phylactery. I suggest you never take it off, and don’t tell anyone what it is. He’s trusting you with his life.”
Jonas put the chain around his neck and tucked the phylactery under his hospital gown.
“Good. Now get some rest.” She leaned over, kissed his forehead, and then walked out.
After she’d gone, Kieran poked his head in. The look on his face was one of mixed relief and sadness. Jonas waved weakly, and Kieran nodded, his mournful brown eyes flat and lifeless. He lingered for moment, and then was gone again, the door closing softly behind him. I did this to him… to all the Macreadys, Jonas thought. He wondered how many people were also mourning Eugene, Jared, and
all the others who’d died in the past week.
Feeling shaky, Jonas laid back and pulled the covers up to his chin, before rolling over and curling up on his side.
Are you alright, Jonas? Madoc asked. Jonas felt warmth emanating from the phylactery as the specter spoke.
Yeah, I’m just feeling a little trapped in here, Jonas replied. He was hurt, exhausted, and wanted to go home.
Maybe I can help, Madoc sent.
Jonas felt the phylactery pulse, and his view lifted clear of his body. As he passed through the wall of the hospital room, Kieran’s head turned in his direction, and the werewolf’s eyes gleamed bright blue. Then Jonas was sailing through the hallways, past groups of trainees, enforcers, and Eve, as she walked toward the room where he’d left his body. Then he shot up the elevator shaft, through the roof, and into the night sky. Aside from Kieran, no one seemed to have noticed him.
The police barriers were gone, and the sidewalks were deserted. As he rose higher, soaking in the weightless freedom, he suddenly realized it was snowing.
It’s winter, Jonas thought.
He’d been so focused on staying alive, that the end of a season had snuck up on him. Expecting to see red leaves on black branches, it was somewhat of a shock to see that the trees had shaken free of their baggage, which now lay buried under a thin blanket of immaculate white. Edwards was his ally, Bert was dead, the demon was banished and, somewhere, his father was alive. Eve would be waiting for him when he woke up. It was over. Months of tension fell away, and a deep, engulfing fatigue took their place.
He felt Madoc release him as he drifted off to sleep. He dreamt of black blood on white snow, and the gleaming eyes of wolves stalking him in the light of a blood red moon.
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