As all eight members of the team began to assemble the airlock, Marette watched without supervising. The team knew their jobs as well or better than she did. She only needed to wait. . . and wonder.
VIII
"Leave."
Felix watched the single word hang in the air in front of the reporter.
"What?" Brian stalled with a glare at Felix.
"Leave." Diomedes stepped to one side of the doorway. "Now."
"Diomedes," Felix tried to make his scold cheerful to disrupt the tension, "where are your manners? No 'Hello?' No 'How are you?' No 'May I offer you some custard pie?' If you're going to keep treating my friends so rudely then I may have to stop bringing them to visit." Felix glanced at Flynn for a supporting grin, but the young man was focused on Brian and Diomedes.
"We have business." Diomedes stood motionless, glaring expectantly. Felix realized the journey into the sewers must have gone well or he wouldn't have been in such a pleasant mood.
"Obviously. Why do you think I asked him here?" Felix replied. "Well okay, I guess I really didn't ask him here," he continued without giving Diomedes an opening. "We just ran into each other in the alley. We hadn't seen each other in a bit so we've been here catching up. Met in college—not when I was in college, of course, I'm not that young. He was taking classes and I was just sort of there." Felix was rambling and he knew it. "But at any rate it's a good thing he happened into the alley back there because he'll be a big help. So what'd you find down there, Flynn?" He asked the last question in cadence with his rambling, not missing a beat and looking straight at Michael.
The young man blinked as if caught off guard by the question. He stood formulating an answer, and Felix thought he caught a trace of regret in his expression.
Diomedes spoke first. "What we found is something I tell you when he's gone."
"So you did find something, then," Felix stated. The freelancer didn't respond beyond a long glance back at the manhole. Diomedes was being stubborn, but that was to be expected. They had obviously found something, but Felix would still bet it wasn't the answer they were looking for. "That would seem to be a yes." He shot to his feet. "It seems you don't need me anymore, then. Come on, Brian. I'll buy you a beer."
Diomedes moved to block the door. Felix smiled back at him. "We're not through yet."
Felix sat back down. "I stay, he stays. It's a package. You paid for my help. Don't make your money worthless by taking away my contacts." Felix hoped that would get Diomedes's attention, but the freelancer's face was characteristically hard to read. Flynn was staying out of the discussion, hanging back in the alley, looking about. "Now why don't you just bring up whatever it is you two found down there and let's get this thing going again."
At this the freelancer turned back towards Brian, presumably sizing him up. Brian met his gaze impatiently.
"Diomedes," Felix went on, letting a little exasperation of his own show in his tone, "what's he going to do?"
"Exactly. What is he going to do?"
"Brian happens to have certain connections in a rather omniscient news agency. There are things he can find out—and resources he can access—that I can't get as. . . discreetly."
"And I'm not going to make a stink about anyone who roughs up the occasional Nosferatu, either," Brian chimed in.
Felix winced internally as Diomedes stepped toward him, anger in his eyes. "You told him?"
"You just crawled out of the sewer in an alley behind the stadium," Felix tried. "Anyone who knows half as much about this city as I do could guess you're either looking for Nosferatu or sneaking in for the next Ultimate match. Brian's no idiot. He notices things. Things I might miss. Another reason to have him here."
Diomedes remained silent and fixed Brian with a dead, unrelenting stare. Felix could tell he was thinking. If there was one thing he knew about the freelancer, it was that he was proud. He wouldn't simply relent and release control of the situation, not for nothing at least.
"It's your choice," Felix pressed. "He stays or he doesn't. If my red-headed friend screws up, if he doesn't help us finish your job, then you keep my fee." Felix ignored the suspicious look Brian himself gave him at this. "Which is it?"
Diomedes sized him up for a moment more, then abruptly turned from the door and walked back to the manhole. The moment he was away Brian whispered, "You're the one saying I can help! I'm not paying you if—"
Felix hushed him, watching as Diomedes crawled down into the hole. "The fee's hardly anything," he lied. "I don't need it."
A moment later the freelancer lifted a body from the hole, brought it to the floater, and dumped the leather-clad figure on the floor. "You stay," he spoke, pointing at Brian. "Tie him to the seat."
Felix watched as Brian took some rope from the back and bound the darkly dressed cultist in one of the near seats. Diomedes kept his auto-pistol trained on the Nosferatu the entire time. Felix assumed his primary purpose was to guard against the cultist regaining consciousness too early, but Felix guessed that he was watching their new companion just as carefully. Felix shook his head behind the freelancer's back and glanced through the doorway at Flynn. The young man had moved in again after his roommate had accepted Brian. He was also watching the Nosferatu carefully, though something in his eyes betrayed an inward distraction.
Diomedes checked the knots after Brian had stepped back. "I'm no expert, but I think those oughta hold," Brian whispered.
The freelancer ignored the comment but seemed satisfied. He motioned for Flynn to come inside. "Close the door." Flynn nodded and did as he said. He then took a seat in the front passenger chair and turned it to face the rear.
"So how far'd you have to go to find this lucky gentleman?" Felix asked as he regarded the cultist. He was covered from neck to ankle in muted black—almost like a jumpsuit but tighter and made from dull, heavy leather. His hair was short, a contrasting white, yet only slightly paler than the cultist's own skin—at least the bit that was visible. Of this, half of it was covered in a crimson tattoo of a spider's web running from eye to ear on the left side of his face. A delicate silver chain hung about his neck. Felix found the combination of color to be actually quite striking, and also found himself wondering if the cultist might have once been an art student.
"Heating room—beneath the stadium," Diomedes answered.
Felix saw no sign of physical harm to the cultist, though given his outfit, he supposed he couldn't be sure. "Gassed him, did you?" he asked of Flynn.
The young man hesitated a moment. "It wasn't. . ."
"No," Diomedes interjected with a look at Flynn. "He jumped me. Knocked him out the hard way."
"Ah."
Brian spoke from where he crouched behind the Nosferatu. "Was it just him? I thought I heard they go in packs."
The freelancer frowned at him. "Does he look like he's in a pack?" His tone was sufficient for Brian to turn his gaze back to the unconscious figure. Moments slipped away as they watched their captive breathe.
"So what do you plan to do when he wakes up?" Felix asked finally.
"You're going to ask him some questions. If I don't like his answers, I'll ask some of my own."
"And just what would you have me ask? It was your idea to take him."
"You said don't tell you how to do your job. You know what we're looking for."
"Do I?"
"He's awake," Flynn said.
Everyone looked at the Nosferatu as he sat calmly in the seat. His unnaturally green eyes—most likely simple contacts—were fixed squarely on Diomedes, staring with quiet menace as the cultist breathed faster.
"Where," he demanded, taking a short, quick breath as the word was spoken, "is Ranth?"
"Who's Ranth?" Felix asked.
"My blood mate," the cultist replied with another quick, almost lizard-like breath. His eyes did not wander from Diomedes. They only traveled up and down his body. "The other with me, when he defiled our lair." The cultist's neck shifted like a hovering snake as he reg
arded Diomedes. "Where is he?"
Felix waited to see if Diomedes would respond.
"He's dead."
It was Flynn who had spoken. The Nosferatu shot him a look of fury before he smiled an instant later to show prosthetic fangs. "Not for long," he whispered. His neck twisted back to Diomedes. "Be forewarned. My kindred shall find me. They shall find you."
Diomedes continued his silence.
"I don't suppose you'd care to answer a few questions for us while we wait?" Felix asked.
"Why should I answer the questions of a mortal?"
Felix stepped forward slightly and slipped his hands in his pockets as Brian glanced out the window into the alley. "Because my large friend here has told me that if you don't answer mine, you will answer his—something I'd imagine to be a little more uncomfortable."
Felix caught a flash of apprehension in the cultist's eyes. Though he might say otherwise, and even perhaps make himself believe otherwise, he must still have known deep down that he was possessed of the same mortality as anyone else. "He lacks the power to truly harm me, though I will speak with you as it suits me until my brethren descend upon you." The delusional shield was up again. Felix found himself pondering slightly what would happen if the others did come.
"Do you know why we brought you here?" he began.
The cultist grinned. "Should I?"
"There's someone," Felix began, pausing for dramatic effect and hoping to appeal to the man's own delusions, "or something that has been attacking, killing, perhaps feeding on other gangs and people in the shroud of night." He paused again to compose further melodrama. "Stalking them. Perhaps. . . tearing them apart with claws and fangs, leaving the blood to stain the streets of the city. My friend here thinks it's you or your brethren."
At this, the cultist hissed and turned to Diomedes. "So like a mortal, so driven by fear! By ignorance! For centuries your ilk has blamed and persecuted our—"
Felix cut off the rant, raising his voice. "I disagree with him but I do think you may know something if it." Felix would have been surprised if the cultist did know anything new, but there was always a chance.
"And if I do?"
"Oh, I doubt it's a question of 'if.' I'm sure there's quite a lot you and your brethren have seen from the shadows." Again, Felix doubted his own words. The Nosferatu traditionally kept too isolated to have any information of value outside of their own immediate grounds.
"You are correct, human." His eyes narrowed.
"Where did you see him?" Brian asked from the corner.
"I have not. Nor do I expect to. But I know of him."
"How do you know of him, then?"
"I have been told."
"How much have you been told?" Felix pressed. It smelled like little more than common knowledge of the rumor, but something that the cultist had said did intrigue him.
"Of his existence," the cultist said. "More did not concern me."
"Because you didn't expect to see him," Felix stated.
"My reasons are clouded beyond your vision." Felix chose to take that as a yes.
"And just why exactly don't you expect to see him?"
"We do not concern him. And he knows our power."
"Oh yeah?" It was Brian again. "And just how do you know that? Can you read his mind?"
The cultist peered at Brian with contempt. "I cannot read minds. I was told."
"Who tells you these things?" Felix added.
At this, the Nosferatu's eyes glowed with an almost sinister delight. "The One Who Sees," he whispered.
"Ah!" said Brian, rolling his eyes. "So he can read minds!"
The cultist continued to stare at Felix in a way that he couldn't help but feel was slightly unnerving. "He sees. His power is. . . to be feared."
"Who is he?" Felix asked. He was intrigued. This was a title he had not heard before.
"He is The One Who Sees."
"That much I understand."
The cultist shook his head. "You do not understand."
Felix shrugged. "Okay, then help me understand. What's his name?"
"I will not speak his name," he said quickly. "There are things I fear."
Brian snorted. "You're afraid of his name?"
"I do not fear it, weakling," he hissed. "But I fear his wrath, should I speak of it to you."
Felix glanced at Diomedes. He remained motionless, apparently content for the moment to listen and watch. "So, he's your leader?" Felix tested. To his knowledge the Nosferatu had no leader, though they did seem to pride themselves on remaining hidden and mysterious, even from the rest of the "mainstream" goth crowd.
"He is not. One with such power does not seek to lead. Only to. . . inspire."
"If he's so powerful then why haven't we heard of him?" Brian asked. "Why hasn't he used this power to make everyone fear him?"
"He shall, but for The One Who Is."
Felix couldn't tell if the Nosferatu believed what he was saying or was just trying to be enigmatic, but Felix was becoming at least mildly fascinated by the riddle it presented. "And who is this One Who Is?" he asked. "Does your One Who Sees fear him?"
"Most mortals know The One Who Is. And yes, he shall fear him, until the coming of The One Who Will Be."
"Oh, Lord," Brian mumbled, giving Felix a look that clearly said this was getting them nowhere. Felix motioned for him to wait. Brian was probably right, but this was too interesting not to hear the rest of. Okay, so maybe he was a sucker for that sort of thing. It was fun.
"And this One Who Will Be, he'll replace The One Who Is?"
"So says The One Who Sees."
"I take it that I would consider this a bad thing?"
"For you and your kind. Upon the coming of The One Who Will Be, men will seek death, but will not find it. They will long to die, but death will elude them."
Felix turned around to Flynn. He was watching out the window at the covered manhole. "Bummer," he said before turning back. "Interesting prophecy. The One Who Will Be isn't coming before next Tuesday, is he? I've got a friend coming in from out of town that day I'd rather not miss."
"You do not believe," the Nosferatu stated, eyes narrowing.
"Oh, no, I believe. It's just that I'd rather not be longing to die just yet and I have a tendency to cope using humor. Your One Who Sees is certain of all this, is he?"
He flashed Felix another unnerving grin. "They shall come to pass unless The One Who Might Be can stand against The One Who Will Be." Felix raised an eyebrow. Brian choked down a laugh. Okay, so this was becoming ludicrously convoluted.
Diomedes smacked the Nosferatu across the face, startling him and the others alike. "Enough!" The side of the cultist's face flushed from the impact. "Now I ask."
Felix moved forward to speak with the freelancer, trying to nudge him back so he could do so privately. Diomedes neither looked at him nor budged. "He doesn't know anything," Felix whispered. "Not what you want. Don't punish him for it. This is a dead end here."
"He hasn't told you everything." The freelancer didn't bother to lower his voice. His gaze remained anchored to his prisoner.
"That's because he doesn't know it. We don't have time for this."
Diomedes looked down at him. "No, we don't. Get out of my way."
"You're not going to kill him," Felix told him.
"He'll tell me what he knows."
"They will come for you!" the Nosferatu hissed from behind them.
In two swift motions, Diomedes knocked the cultist into unconsciousness and pointed at Flynn. "Go outside, across the alley. Stand watch." He turned back to Felix. "Go with him."
"I'm not leaving you alone with him," Felix said.
Diomedes turned to Brian after a moment. "You. Stay here." The freelancer lowered an expectant gaze on Felix as Flynn moved for the door. Felix turned, considering, as Flynn checked his gun. He waited as the younger man stepped from the vehicle before looking back to Diomedes. Perhaps one more thing. . .
"Just remember," he whis
pered, "leaving a trail of bodies around doesn't make it any harder for Wallace to send the wrong kind of attention your way."
In the split second after the freelancer's hand wrapped around his throat and pressed him against the window, Felix cursed artificially boosted reflexes. He looked back at Diomedes and forced himself to appear calm. "That wasn't a threat. It was a bit of advice."
The freelancer relaxed his grip slightly but still held him. "How'd you hear?"
"I keep my ears open. And I'm not the only one who does. Ken Wallace is slime, but I'm sure there are others who wouldn't care. Just be careful is all I'm saying. I don't need anything happening to one of my steadier clients."
The freelancer dropped his grip. "I'm always careful," he said with a nod.
Felix stepped for the door. "You're always paranoid, Diomedes. There's a difference." He moved to close the door, adding, "Just make it quick so I can get on with helping you find who you're really looking for."
With a last glance at Brian, he slid the door shut.
IX
When the integrity of the airlock's seal against the structure was confirmed at one hundred percent, Marette ordered the team to prepare for the first entry attempt. As the team moved toward the remaining smaller crates to unpack the weapons and sensing equipment, she opened a channel.
"Alberto," she said, "join me inside, please." For a moment she considered giving a specific reason for the order, but Alberto knew the reason well enough, and fabricating one for the others' benefit would only call more attention to the command. She gave an order, and it would be followed; for them that would be enough.
After Alberto was inside and the outer door was sealed, Marette joined him in the junction to the airlock as he removed his helmet. She handed him the small device she had been fingering in her pocket. "Connect this to the transmitter on your sensor junction." Alberto nodded and opened a compartment in the leg of the pressure suit to install the device. "I want you to double check that it is active before you go in. We must ensure we get our own source copy."
"What's our comm-channel?" he asked, resealing the compartment.
A Shadow in the Flames (The New Aeneid Cycle) Page 10