by Ben Zackheim
She was really upset. She walked off and grabbed Fox by the wrist and pulled him with her. Tabitha raised an eyebrow, took a sip of her drink and eyed me. I stood in the middle of the dance floor alone.
She tilted her head to the side and walked up the stairs.
People parted for her like water.
I followed her like a dog.
Chapter 18
By the time I reached the top of the stairs, she was gone. I followed my instincts and steered right toward the Egyptian room.
I walked the halls of the museum alone. It was an eerie feeling to hear only my footsteps echo through the sarcophagi of ancient Egypt. It wasn’t creepy. I’d seen the undead walk, so a bunch of coffins lined up in an empty room with dim lighting wasn’t going to make me run away screaming.
But the artifacts were sad.
I don’t know of any other way to put it. They weren’t where they belonged. They were made for eternity to ponder, not humans.
The Temple room in the Egyptian wing was lit by a green glow from under the water of its huge, shallow fountain and the city lights outside. The massive windows framed Central Park like a beautiful painting. The Temple of Dendur was like another world.
I stood still. I felt a presence in the room but I couldn’t tell if it was hostile. The faint sound of car horns slipped through the glass. A small noise joined in.
Hissing.
The Glocks were out in one swift move. One aimed at 11, one at 3.
“Don’t try it,” I said. My voice skipped over the water and bounced off the tomb. It came back to my ear like a whisper.
I heard the hiss again. It came from the tomb. The structure is small but it has a few nooks and crannies where someone could hide so I approached it slowly.
As I walked I realized something weird. I wasn’t worried. There was that split second when I reacted to the sound but it didn’t feel like I was in danger. I’d probably find a stray couple making unsavory use of the temple.
But the real culprit was Tabitha. Her back was to me. I spotted her long black hair first. Its velvet sheen reflected the golden light that lit the stone structure. Her exquisite shape fit right in with the timeless exhibit.
Undead, eternal.
She was doing something to me. I was confused. I didn’t even know I’d slipped the Glocks back into the holster. Nothing made sense.
“Tabitha,” I said.
“Come,” she said without turning to face me. Her voice was just above a whisper. “Look.”
I wanted to be fully prepared but I couldn’t see a reason to go in with guns drawn. There was a softness to her voice. Maybe that was it. Maybe it wasn’t magic she was pulling on me. Maybe it was vulnerability.
I could see she was looking down at something but I couldn’t make out what. Her hands were at her sides and her fingers moved as if playing an instrument.
“Don’t be afraid, silly,” she said.
I stopped behind her. She smelled faintly of roses. Not my favorite smell. At least it wasn’t until that moment.
I saw what she saw and I was afraid.
The temple sometimes houses a statue of God Horus Protecting King Nectanebo. It’s a small falcon with a crown and King Nectanebo nestled under his breast. It’s usually my favorite piece to hang with when I visit the museum. Especially on those days when no one else is in the room.
But the stone of the statue was pulsating like flesh. With each beat it pushed out blood from between the feathers. The red slowly filled the plastic case that it was stored in.
“Neat trick,” I said, trying to sound cool.
“She’s in pain,” Tabitha said. Her face was unreadable but I felt her sadness. “Since she’s been here, she’s been trapped.”
“You know… her?” I asked, trying to navigate one of those supernatural conversations that Rebel was much better at handling than I was.
“Yes, she was mine when I was a girl.” I didn’t say anything. I figured my silence would get her to tell me more. “Well, not mine. But she was the protector of my family.”
“Was she any good?”
She glanced over her shoulder. Her lips didn’t smile but her eyes lit up. “I’m still here.”
"Where’s the blood coming from? That can’t be good,” I said.
"That’s what she does when she weeps."
"It sounds to me like you need to get her out of there."
"Is that what you think? What if it is not time? Do you assume that her misery is unnatural?”
“Hey, I’m just saying that if I was fond of something that was bleeding all over a plastic box I’d try to save it.”
She sighed and ran her hand over the case. The blood was swirling around behind the plastic. I wondered if it would explode. That would make it onto the Post’s front page.
“You want to get the god’s hammer,” she said. I wondered if she’d just seen a vision in the swirling red.
“What are you talking about?”
Bad. Liar.
She turned to me. “Kane, one thing immortality teaches you is to not waste time.”
“Really? I’d think it was one big, fat chance to waste…”
“Listen to me. You don’t want the hammer. You want the shield. Zeus' shield, often loaned to his daughter Athena, also used by Perseus. Most importantly, it was Baldr’s at his death. You only have a few minutes to get it.”
“I don’t know. I’m pretty damn sure I want the hammer.”
“The Arms and Armor wing, Gallery 370,” she said, looking up at me. Her eyes told me a lot but mostly they told me to get my ass in gear.
“Tabitha, I…”
“There’s no time. Do as I say or you’ve lost.”
“Who are you?”
“If you get the shield before the creature then I’m your new best friend.”
“Creature.”
“Go!”
I ran, stopped, turned. “Why do I want the shield?”
She rolled her eyes and sighed heavily and then she was gone.
I blinked. Hard. She was nowhere to be seen.
And the statue’s clear plastic case was clean. No sign of blood. The light in the room was also different. It was like I’d just emerged from some kind of trance.
“I HATE VAMPIRES!” I yelled into the vast chamber.
“Fuck you too, buddy,” a man’s voice said from somewhere nearby.
I ran for Arms and Armor.
Chapter 19
I usually found the endless hallways and infinite nooks and crannies of the Metropolitan to be kind of charming. But at that moment it was annoying the hell out of me. I took a wrong turn at Renoir and ended up in a room of nudes. I had to sneak past two guards but that wasn’t a problem.
I felt like I had the whole museum to myself until I noticed other people wandering around certain rooms. Vampires, if I had to guess. A couple of them looked at paintings as if they yearned for something in them. Maybe they were looking at home.
I finally spotted the entrance to the Arms and Armor room. The dim lights barely revealed the spears and breast plates. In the middle of the room was a large boat. A Viking ship used for battle. It had been a while since I’d visited that wing. Maybe even since I was a child. I didn’t remember the ship being intimidating, but it was. I could picture it emerging from the sea’s mist, packed with warriors ready to kill and have a Viking good time.
I immediately felt another presence in the room but I couldn’t see anyone yet. I sneaked around a few large display cases, being careful not to reveal myself to whoever may be there.
The first proof that I wasn’t alone wasn’t a sound, but a smell. A stench is more like it. If I had to explain it, I’d say it was a cross between rotten broccoli and any corner of New York City in the summertime.
I gagged. And that’s when I heard something. I assumed it was the creature that Tabitha mentioned. If she was real. Even though I was on the edge of a battle I found myself stuck on that idea. What if she’d been a mirage? Part of an elaborate
trap. What if all those feelings I just had a few minutes ago had nowhere to go anymore?
I shook off the thought. There wasn’t time to crush on ancient Egyptian vampires. But if I made it out of there I knew I had a new type that would be pretty goddamn hard to find in real life.
I checked the map and saw that the shield display was right around the corner. I bent at the waist without taking a step and I peeked around the boots of a long-dead pillager.
Whatever the creature was, it used to be a man. But he was long-dead. He looked like a zombie, but he was the strongest-looking zombie I’d ever seen. He stood upright, shoulders back, face forward and he studied the case with the shield.
He reached out a hand and touched the glass as if to get closer to the relic inside.
Then he snapped his head and looked right at me.
His eyes were wet and sheer-white and his skeletal face resembled the best-preserved mummies. He opened his mouth and a sound like a distant scream filled my head.
Glock time. But by the time I’d aimed, he was gone. I walked slowly from my perch. I sensed that he knew where I was. But I had no idea where he was lurking. My least favorite situation. That feeling? It’s like being a seal treading water in the ocean with a Great White.
I could smell him. The odor was strong. Close.
I grabbed the top edge of the case and pulled myself up. I wanted to get on top of it. It was a risky move but it might buy me the edge if I didn’t get picked off.
Something grabbed my ankle and yanked me down.
I smacked my head on the floor and managed to scramble back on my hands and feet as he stepped toward me. He cocked his head, which made a sick crispy sound and clattered his teeth together. It wasn’t a threatening sound this time. It felt like a warning.
Then he turned his back on me and walked to the shield again. He glanced down at me and I stayed where I was. I had a clear shot. But I wanted to see what he was up to.
He pulled his rusted sword from its haggard scabbard and ran his bony fingers over the blade. Then he reared back and smashed the case into pieces with a single swing.
I was happy he hadn’t done that to me a few seconds before. He could have.
He reached for the shield and wrapped his hand around the edge. It looked right in his hands. It matched his crusty old armor.
“I can’t let you leave with that, buddy,” I said, aiming at his eternal smirk.
There was a moment there when I thought he’d make a run for it. He faced me and placed the blade back in its scabbard.
Then he was tackled from behind.
The two of them rolled out of sight and I made a run for them, both Glocks out and ready.
The zombie was reaching for its sword but its attacker was slapping its hands away as he placed his other hand over the dead warrior’s face. It wasn’t going to be a long fight. The zombie was getting thrashed by the same Vampire that had stolen the hammer. The one with the white mask. Now that I was close to him I could tell it was an armored mask of some kind. He also wore a white chest plate under his coat.
“You like to let other people do the dirty work for you,” I said, firing off a shot at the end of my sentence.
The Vampire dodged left and threw a piece of the zombie at me. It slapped against my face and made me miss the next shot. When I got my senses back the Vampire was running from the room, shield in hand.
I ran after him but couldn’t help noticing the zombie on the floor. He was face down and he grabbed at the carpet.
If it’s possible for a dead man to cry then that’s what he was doing.
He dissolved into dust.
“Sorry Baldr,” I said. I’m not sure how I knew he was Thor’s friend, Baldr. Maybe it was Tabitha’s clue.
I ran after the Vampire motherfucker.
Chapter 20
The place was dimly lit, but I spotted the Vampire’s flowing black coat and white armor in the Renaissance Art wing. He was headed up the stairs. He probably had a ride out of there waiting on the roof.
I heard Tabitha’s voice in my head again.
You don’t want the hammer. You want the shield.
He ran into the Modern Art wing. I knew the room had stairs to the roof. I’d landed my helicopter there on one of my first solo flights to impress a date. It didn’t work out.
I needed to get ahead of him. I caught a glimpse of where he was, opened my portal and stepped in. I emerged where he’d just been. I looked down the stairs and saw him looking up at me.
I waved. “Hey. Shield please. Na-ah. Don’t run. I can do this all night.”
He ran anyway.
I slid down the banister, rolled, and ran.
Fox and Rebel stood in front of a Picasso. Their bodies were wrapped together. From where I was standing they looked like a Picasso.
“Hi guys,” I said. “You see someone run by?”
“What the fuck? Kane!”
“I’d zip up and get ready if I were you.”
“What is it?” Fox said.
“Vampire. The one who stole the hammer. He got the shield.”
“What shield?” Rebel asked.
But that was the moment when the armored Vampire leapt up to the large filtration pipes over our heads. He looked at us and ran the other direction, his boots clanging on the thin metal.
“Fox, throw me,” I ordered.
Surprisingly, he threw me.
He didn’t even hesitate.
I always wondered what it would be like to have a partner who actually did what you told them to do. Now I knew. I liked it.
I soared over the art and landed nicely on a massive duct. The Vampire was about twenty yards away. He held the shield up like, well, a shield. He knew I wouldn’t shoot as long as the relic was in danger. Smart. This guy thought ahead and he fought like he enjoyed it. I wondered if he was a Vampire after all. He definitely worked for them. But was he human? There was something about the aggressiveness…
Rebel suddenly landed behind him. He turned, swinging his fist. She punched him in the face. I still have no idea how she managed to have fingernails like that and still make a fist. His head snapped to the side and he slid off the vent and hit the floor below with a thud. I dropped down and took a couple of shots at his rolling body. One of the bullets tore through the Jasper Johns which was a total accident even though I hate the fucking thing.
He’d rolled behind the wall of Matisse and appeared to be getting something ready for us.
But Fox dropped on top of him out of nowhere. I heard the grunts and thuds of a fight going on. I ran to help only to find that Fox had lost that round. The armored guy was turning a corner, headed back to the stairs. Slippery fuck.
“Rebel!”
“On it!”
She ran an interception route I watched from the middle of the room.
I could see them both headed for each other.
He leapt in the air at the exact same time she did. His leap was higher but hers was targeted, precise, Rebel-y. She’d guessed he was going for a man-sized grate that would support his weight. And she was right.
I saw The Lines. I knew exactly where he would land and I knew where Rebel would be when he did.
I could tell what his trajectory would be from the fall.
I could see where his center of balance would be.
I could make a really good guess about what his body would tell him he needed to do to survive.
I aimed at where he would roll and run in two seconds, one second.
Bang.
Bang.
I hit him in the chest and the face, the two armored spots. I didn’t want to kill him. I wanted him alive. He’d kicked our asses last time and I needed to know who he worked for. I needed to know who he was. Something in me told me it was critical that we ID him. He was going to be a formidable foe or a vault of information.
My second shot to the face had made him drop the shield. It rolled out of sight so I ran for it.
I almost ran into
Rebel. She had the shield in her hands.
She smiled and tossed it at me. I caught it.
“I can feel its power,” I said. “What the fuck?”
“That’s a great question, and well-phrased, Kane,” Rebel said. “I don’t know the answer but it’ll have something to do with the symbols on its face, I bet.”
“Let’s snag the creepy guy,” I said.
We both turned the corner.
“Dammit,” I said. “Three seconds. I took my eyes off him for three seconds!”
He was gone.
“That mother fucker is my new number one enemy,” Rebel said.
“I hate being number two,” I said.
“Then you’d better take him out, right?”
“We got the shield. That’s what counts.”
“Why? What does it have to do with the hammer?”
“I don’t know. But Tabitha told me we need to have it.”
“Oh, did Tabitha?” Rebel asked, coyly. At least I think it was coy. It sounded coy, but you never know with her.
“We need to interpret the symbols on the shield. They may hold a clue.”
Rebel studied the circle pattern of symbols. “I’m a little rusty on my loop-de-loopy, old-looking, Sanskrit, cursive hieroglyphics.”
“I know someone,” I said.
Rebel cocked an eyebrow and then her eyes widened. Followed quickly by a frown.
“You are kidding me, right?”
“He’s in New York,” I said. “He can read and speak every language that man or myth has ever spoken.”
“He sounds valuable,” Fox said, turning the corner to join us. He rubbed his head.
“He’s a fucking shitwipe,” Rebel had to add.
“He’s our fucking shitwipe, though. Come on.”
Chapter 21
A lot of people look for magic and claim they never see it. They’ve never been under the spell of Manhattan.
It’s like a magic spray of anonymity.
New York City is a place where a lot of people go to disappear. You can get lost in the numbers. You can even be alone in the numbers. Its barrage on the senses is so intense that it acts as both a stimulant and a shield against the rest of humanity. You can also dive right in and find the brightest spotlight in the world, dooming yourself to a relentless attack of attention for fifteen minutes.