by Alysh Ellis
In the fourth drawer he found it, printed on thick paper and folded. Huon spread it out on the desktop and leaned over it, tracing the strange curves of the surface world, not really understanding it but knowing that once he and Tybor deciphered it they would have the information they needed. He shoved it in his pocket and kept searching.
His hand fell on a thick file and he pulled it from the drawer and opened it. As the words penetrated his brain, he had to fight not to gasp. Hopewood had listed the weapons he’d previously used in his raids and described the effects, giving sickening details about the deaths of masses of Dvalinn. Huon’s hands shook so much he had to put them on the desk to steady them. He read about the three massacres Hopewood had conducted.
Huon flipped backward, the detail too harrowing to read. The previous pages recorded Hopewood’s plans to employ an expert to take the weapons design to a new and more efficient level and to set up a workshop here in the Venice offices.
The workshop held the key to Hopewood’s defeat but so far Huon had seen no sign of it. He knew it had to be here somewhere—Judie’s presence in the building confirmed it. At this time of the year, in flood-prone Venice, Hopewood would be taking an enormous risk if he located it on the bottom floor, and Huon already knew from his quick exploration while Judie slept that it wasn’t on the third floor. The bulk of that area was empty.
The image of the dusty spaces above him flashed into his mind and he stilled. A quick look around him alerted him to a discrepancy. The space occupied by the office area and this room did not match the dimensions of the building. Hopewood’s own rooms were at the rear, but that left a strip about fifteen feet wide, running the full length of the building, unaccounted for.
Stepping silently out of the room, he mentally measured the space again and checked for doors. Aside from those he’d already noted and a window let into a side wall, there were no other openings. His original impression confirmed, he stepped back into Hopewood’s office.
The walls of the outer office consisted of flat slabs of smooth, new, white plaster, but this room looked older, decorated with ornate paneling, dark wood decorated with carved bunches of grapes, thick and rounded and placed at regular intervals. Huon moved forward to inspect them. Each grape in each bunch seemed to have been carved separately. Huon peered at them.
The idea of a secret entrance seemed absurd, but this was Venice and Brian Hopewood had plenty to hide. For a moment, Huon wondered why Judie wouldn’t have mentioned it if her workshop could only be reached through a secret passageway, but perhaps she was so inured to what she thought was Hopewood’s insanity that she merely considered this one more of his quirks. Or maybe she thought this kind of thing was a normal aspect of Venetian buildings.
He didn’t have the time to ask. His nimble fingers ran over the carvings and he peered intently at each raised part of the design. One of the bunches of grapes moved slightly and Huon leaned in close. There were hinges, cleverly disguised but hinges nonetheless. Which meant that the other side of these panels could be made to swing free, like a door, giving him access to what lay behind. He poked and prodded and twisted until he heard a click and the panel slid back, revealing a long, narrow room, lit by the blue glow of standby lights on electronic devices stacked from floor to ceiling. The nausea he’d felt earlier rushed back and he had to swallow hard to keep from being sick. These were the weapons Judie had created from Hopewood’s designs.
Six large packs, each with a cylindrical container built into it, lay stacked on the benches. Even without ever having seen them before, Huon knew what they were. Lewis had done his job before he’d disappeared. Black death’s heads painted on the canisters warned humans of toxicity. This was the gas Hopewood planned to use to wipe out Huon’s people and contaminate their underground world forever.
He wanted to rush across the room, gather it all up and destroy it, but he had to wait, to be sure he killed every Gatekeeper as well. Tomorrow he and Tybor would infiltrate the premises once more and do whatever it took to wipe out this arsenal.
They had to strike when all the Gatekeepers were present, because only by wiping them all out could they be sure they had succeeded in keeping their people safe. The knowledge that Judie had designed some of these weapons burned at the edges of his mind, mixing with the memory of sexual release and the softness of her touch. For the first time in his life, someone had looked at him with desire, had come to him willingly, had wanted him and shown no disgust. The thought of killing Judie Scanlon sickened him, but he would do what he had to.
Armed with the information he needed, he let himself out of Hopewood’s rooms, and out of the building.
Chapter Four
Huon lay on his back in his room in the suite, basking in the early-morning sun shining through the unshuttered window. After reporting to Tybor last night when he’d gotten back from Hopewood’s palazzo, he’d stretched out on the bed and slept.
The sound of opening and shutting doors in the small kitchen attached to their suite drew his attention, then Tybor called out, “I’m going out to get food. When we go in we’ll strike hard. I don’t want you fainting from hunger on me.”
“You’re the one with the bulk to keep up,” Huon said. “And you’re wounded. If anyone faints it ain’t gonna be me, old man.” He got to his feet, pulled on his shoes and sauntered into the kitchen. “You rest up. I’ll get the food.” He swept a handful of euro off the table and into his pocket.
“You’re not as…” Tybor began and Huon rolled his eyes. Tybor blew out a breath and started again. “Pay attention out there.”
“You lose your memory when you got hurt?” Huon asked. “You look like a Dvalinn. I got picked for this mission because I don’t. Even if Hopewood and his Gatekeepers are examining every person on the street who remotely fits Dvalinn characteristics, they won’t give me a second glance and you know it.”
“But if Hopewood can identify us another way, you’re as much at risk as I am,” Tybor said.
“If I get attacked, I fight,” Huon replied. “And unlike you, I’m not wounded. I’ll get food and anything else we need. You rest.” He grinned. “Conserve your strength.”
Tybor grunted and opened the door a crack, peered out, then leaned into the corridor. After a moment he stepped back and gestured Huon through.
Huon walked out, whistling loudly and cheerfully, deliberately trying to annoy Tybor. The man’s protectiveness was never going to change, but at least Huon could dish out some irritation of his own. A petty revenge, but sweet enough in its way.
On the street, out of Tybor’s earshot, he lapsed into silence, walking carefully, senses alert, looking for anyone who took a second look, anyone whom he saw too often, anyone who made his hair stand on end.
He strode into a grocery store, shopped quickly and efficiently and returned to the suite. Shutting the door, he leaned against it, a shudder of relief skittering across his skin. When he heard Tybor coming from the other room, he straightened and forced his shoulders downward and twisted his mouth into what he hoped was a relaxed smile.
He dumped the goods on the table. “Want to eat now?”
“Yeah,” Tybor said, pawing through the contents of one of the bags. “Then I need to do some stretches.”
Huon looked him over. His color was better and his eyes no longer looked heavy, but the white of the bandage around his arm stood out and deep grooves bracketed his mouth. Tension tautened his entire body and he reminded Huon of a bow string pulled back and ready to release.
“If you’re not up to it, I can—”
“I’m fine,” Tybor snapped. “You’re not going alone.”
“Because alone it’s a suicide mission, isn’t it?” Huon asked quietly. “You’ve known all along but it took me a while to figure it out.” He gave a humorless snort of laughter. “Without you here, I’d go up against those guys and I’d be dead.”
“Anyone who tried alone would be dead, including me,” Tybor said. “And I believe, no matt
er what, you’d have taken Hopewood out with you.”
They ate, Huon eating his way mechanically through the delicacies. His dry mouth made chewing difficult and the food tasteless. He said nothing, grateful that Tybor’s concentration on the task to come meant he too remained silent, gathering his focus.
At last Tybor stood. “It’s time.”
“The weekly meeting is about to start,” Huon agreed. “All the surviving Gatekeepers will attend.”
“Judie waits upstairs in her own apartment during the meetings, according to the notes you found last night.” Tybor’s voice was solemn. “If she comes down to investigate any noise, we’ll kill her there. If not, I’ll go upstairs afterward.” He paused and looked at Huon. “It has to be done.” His eyes closed for a moment. “Leave her to me. I have so much blood on my hands, a little more will make no difference,” he said with the weary resignation of a veteran of too many battles.
“If we spared her…” Huon said, hoping even now to convince Tybor.
“No,” Tybor said. “We take no risks.” He gathered up the components of the fireballs and prepared himself for battle and Huon followed suit.
Everything else, they left where it was. Either they would complete their mission and go home or they would die. They would not come back to these rooms.
* * * * *
Tybor welcomed the adrenaline that prepared him for the battle ahead. At Hopewood’s building, Huon made use of the keys he’d stolen from Judie. By now she must have noticed they were missing, but if she’d reported their loss, Hopewood hadn’t had time to change the lock. He would have had time to change the keypad code, though, and Tybor braced himself for the blare of an alarm as he punched in the digits. When the green light came on he let go of his held breath.
Judie had, for whatever reason, given them time to prepare themselves.
In the hallway, Huon and Tybor took off their shirts, leaving themselves naked from the waist up, prepared to fight or die as Dvalinn warriors.
After a final check and each holding a fistful of chemicals ready to be squeezed into life, they mounted the stairs two at a time.
The door to Hopewood’s outer office slammed open under the force of Huon’s kick. He launched the first energy ball before the sound of the door smacking against the wall died away. It hurtled toward Hopewood, who was seated at the head of the table. Chairs clattered and tumbled backward as the five men flanking him scrambled to their feet. One of the Gatekeepers instantly hurled himself sideways, putting himself between Hopewood and Huon as he threw the first fireball. The Gatekeeper screamed as the ball exploded and burned. An acrid stench filled the air and the man twitched once and lay still.
Another Gatekeeper pulled out a gun and fired. Huon ducked, his slender body curving into a concave arch, and the bullet sailed past, embedding itself in the wall behind him. He dipped and rose with an energy ball in his hand and launched it with deadly accuracy at the gunman.
Leaving Huon to his battle, Tybor launched his own fireballs. He took out the man on Hopewood’s right and prepared to launch another ball at Hopewood, left exposed by the death of his protector. As the ball left Tybor’s hand, Hopewood leapt backward, and the fireball exploded harmlessly against the closed door of his office.
“Tybor.” Huon’s shout drew his attention. One of the two remaining Gatekeepers snatched a long, curved sword from under the table. Tybor ducked and the blade whistled over his head. Before the man had a chance to attack again, Huon hurled a fireball at him. Then he leapt into the air, turned and threw yet another ball, and the last human in the room fell.
“Sorry,” Huon shouted. “I didn’t check under the table.”
“You redeemed yourself,” Tybor panted. “You took out four of them. Hopewood is in his office.”
“He can’t go anywhere from there. There are no windows.” Another energy ball appeared in Huon’s hand. “We wait him out.”
“What if he uses the poison?” Tybor asked.
“If he does he’ll kill himself too. I didn’t see any gas masks in there,” Huon replied.
“Did you…” Before Tybor could complete his sentence, his mouth went dry and a gray mist blurred his vision. He shook his head. He couldn’t succumb to weakness now. Fuck! Huon had taken out four of the five men and Tybor was about to faint like a damn weakling. He looked across at Huon and saw him stagger and put a hand to his head. A sick feeling rose in Tybor’s stomach.
The door to Hopewood’s office slid open and the man stood in the gap, holding a matte black rectangular box about six inches square and two inches deep, a small blue light blinking on the top, ominous and deadly. Tybor reached into his pocket, wrapped his fist around the fireball chemicals and pulled them out. He tried to close his hand, to squeeze, but his fingers refused to obey.
“You cannot fight against this, demon,” Hopewood said, holding up the box. “I will destroy you and all your kind.”
“I am not a demon. I am Dvalinn.”
“Call yourself whatever you like,” Hopewood sneered. “You are evil and you will die at my hand.”
“The Dvalinn are not evil.” Huon’s voice sounded frail although his chest rose and fell as if he were trying to gather enough air to shout. “Like humans we want to live our lives, raise our families. We never harmed you.”
“You lie, just like all of your kind.” The sweeping gesture of Hopewood’s hand encompassed the charred remains of his Gatekeepers. “Everything you do is evil and good men lie dead because of it.”
“If these are good men who have been killed, then they were also deluded men.” Tybor’s voice too was weak. “We wanted to live in peace with humans, but you hunt us down. If you come to destroy us, then we must fight back. If killing you and your Gatekeepers protects my people, then that is what we will do.”
The sound of Hopewood’s laughter sent a chill rippling down Tybor’s spine. “But you didn’t kill me, did you?”
The hand holding the electronic device lifted, Hopewood’s thumb pressed down. Numbness weighed upon Tybor’s limbs. His feet would not move—all his strength could not lift them. The electrical pulse was like a chain, tying him to the floor. From the corner of his eye he saw Huon buckle and fall.
“This transmitter is set to broadcast at a frequency that disables all demonkind.” Hopewood’s lips curved cruelly. “You are not like us, no matter what lies you try to concoct. Humans are unaffected by the resonance.”
Hopewood sidled around the room until he stood next to Huon. His foot drew back and he kicked Huon hard in the side. Then he kicked again, into his belly. Huon’s eyes rolled but no sound emerged from his open mouth.
Behind the outer door something squeaked and scraped and Hopewood spun around. “There are more of you.” His fingers twitched on the control button, then he turned slowly back. “No. Any demon within a hundred feet of this device would be immobilized.” He walked back over to a chair and sat down, staring at Huon. “You puzzle me.” One foot swung out again, connecting with Huon’s side. Tybor heard the air rush from his lungs. “You don’t look like a demon, yet you are affected by my device. If you had not shown such skill with demon weapons and were not now lying helpless before me I would not have believed you were a demon. But perhaps that was the idea, hmm?”
The foot retracted, lifted, then Hopewood slammed it into Huon once more, hard enough to break bones. Sadistic pleasure turned Hopewood’s eyes a cold gray. A hard lump of dread formed in Tybor’s chest.
“You’re really a very pretty boy,” Hopewood said. “Let’s see how long it takes to break your resistance so I can ride your broken body back to your foul nest.”
Another kick landed on Huon’s ribs. How could he stand the pain and not be able to yell, to give voice to his agony? His eyes remained open and he glared at Hopewood.
In a rush of motion, Hopewood stood and hurried into his office. When he returned he held a knife in his hand. It glinted in the artificial light of the office as Hopewood drew it across the mu
scle of Huon’s chest. A thin red line bloomed along the path of the cut. Pain flared in Huon’s eyes.
Hopewood leaned in. “It hurts, doesn’t it? When you can’t stand it anymore, when I have flayed the skin from your muscles, when the point of my blade grazes your liver, your ability to keep me out will fail. As you die you will transport back to your city and I will use the same electronic link that now holds you immobile to tie you to me so you will be forced take me with you. You will die knowing you are responsible for the deaths of so many of your Dvalinn kind.” He spat the last two words through curled lips. “I must be prepared.” He placed the box on the table and stepped back into his office.
Two steps and Tybor could grab the device, turn it off and free himself from this hideous lethargy, kill Hopewood…but he could not make his muscles drive his legs forward. He dropped to his knees and tried to crawl but he could only rock backward and forward. He slid to his side, to roll or squirm like the lowliest earthworm, but Hopewood returned with a gas pack strapped to his body.
“Oh, no, you aren’t going anywhere,” he said.
Tybor rolled his eyes and saw that Huon had inched his way a foot or two closer to the table, leaving a trail of blood in his wake.
“A commendable effort but it would never have worked,” Hopewood said. “I will punish you for it all the same.”
He made another sweep with the knife and blood flowed from a cut on Huon’s forearm. Tybor strained against the electronic bonds. He had to get free. If he died in the attempt, he accepted that, but he had to try to protect Huon.
Huon’s powers of transportation had been stripped from him. He could never transport Hopewood back to their city. For a wild moment, Tybor believed if he were free he would offer to take Hopewood to the city himself if it would spare Huon the torture. Looking at Hopewood’s face, hearing his high-pitched, maniacal voice, Tybor had no doubt Hopewood would do all he could to prolong Huon’s pain. The signs of sadism were there.