We Hunt the Night: (Tales from the Supernatural Frontline) (Imperium Book 1)

by Richard Langridge

‘But…?’ he said.

  Grandma Stella nodded. ‘Yes—it’s really me, Jake.’

  Jake looked her over. For a dead person, she didn’t look too bad. True, her hair was out of place, like she’d just been sleeping, and she was wearing a bathrobe—which, while Jake admittedly didn’t know much about the spirit world, he still would have thought inappropriate, because even ghosts probably had standards.

  From beside him, Eliza let out a strangled gasp. Her face had turned very pale. ‘Miss Meunier! But… how—?!’

  ‘How am I alive?’ said Grandma Stella. She winked. ‘In a moment, dear—first, let me take a look at my grandson.’

  She stepped across the room, her fluffy pink dressing gown whishing around her ankles—

  Jake dived behind the couch, his hands over his head. ‘Stay back!’

  ‘Jake?’ said Eliza, turning to look back at him. ‘What are you doing?’

  He didn’t answer. It was obvious to him. His grandmother had died, and was now coming back to haunt him because he had failed to take his new position as head of the organization seriously. She would mess with his things, wait for him to be dozing off before appearing suddenly before him and screaming BOO right in his face—just really sick shit. Somehow, she’d even managed to rope poor Coleman into it—probably by threatening to haunt him, too. Ghosts just have no shame.

  He raised his finger. ‘G-g-ghost!’

  Eliza gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake.’ She turned back around, her arms crossed.

  Grandma Stella stepped up to the couch. ‘I’m not a ghost, Jake.’

  ‘That’s exactly what a ghost would say!’

  There was a moment’s silence as they all digested this statement.

  Finally, she let out a breath. ‘Well. I can see my sudden appearance here has unsettled you. How about we start again, hmm? What do you say?’

  Jake thought it over. He knew it was unwise to make a pact with the dead, but right then he didn’t see a whole lot of options. Also, all this sitting on the floor was making his thighs cramp.

  He pushed himself to his feet. ‘Okay…’ he said, his voice shaky and strangely high-key. ‘Somebody needs to tell me exactly what the hell is going on here before I start screaming—and believe me when I tell you that is something you do not want me to do.’

  Grandma Stella nodded. ‘All right—but first, will you sit?’

  Jake thought it over a moment, then slowly made his way back to the couch, holding Grandma Stella’s gaze as he did so in a way that would inform her he would indeed have a seat, but only because he wanted to.

  When he was seated again, she nodded. ‘Well. Okay, then. Now, where to begin?’

  ‘How about the part where you’re not a ghost,’ said Jake.

  She nodded. ‘Right.’ She lowered herself into the seat beside Coleman and sighed. ‘It all started a little under a month ago. I received intelligence suggesting there were agencies within the organization looking to make an attempt on my life. As we were unable to determine exactly who these parties were, Coleman and I devised a plan that would not only help me avoid getting murdered, but also root out those responsible.’

  ‘You mean you faked your own death?’ said Eliza. Jake thought for someone having just found out her boss had come back from the dead, she was taking things extremely well.

  Grandma Stella nodded. ‘Exactly. I had Coleman here make all the necessary arrangements.’ She reached over and patted his hand, to which Coleman smiled—something that amazed Jake, because he didn’t even know the guy could smile. ‘I really don’t know what I would have done without him.’

  She turned back. ‘Our intention was to have you take over in my place, with the hope that these individuals—whoever they are—would try again.’ She sighed. ‘Of course, we never expected you to find my safe room—that wasn’t part of the plan.’

  Jake blinked. He had a feeling she’d just glossed over something pretty important. ‘Wait, go back a sec—you’re saying you used me as bait?’

  She thought it over. ‘Bait is such a… strong word. Besides, we had you under constant observation. You were never in any real danger.’

  ‘Never in any…?’

  He ran his fingers through his hair. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Not only did it now turn out his whole appointment to head of branch was a sham, but he’d also been used as a pawn in a deadly game of cat-and-mouse by his very own grandmother. That was a lot of information to process, even for Jake. ‘So the thing in my apartment—you’re saying that was planned?’

  She shook her head, surprised. ‘Heavens, no! The X-0193 was a totally unforeseen occurrence; although, granted, its appearance there may have helped shed some light on exactly what it is these individuals are planning.’ She turned to Coleman again and nodded. ‘Show him.’

  Without a word, Coleman reached into his jacket and pulled out a small manila file, exactly like the one Jake had seen earlier upon first coming-to in the interrogation room. ‘We found this,’ he said, pointing to a photograph clipped to the file’s inside sleeve, ‘fused inside the head of the Breacher we encountered back in the subway.’

  It was a little black box, about the size of a battery. Some kind of antenna or something sticking out of the side of it, covered in gore.

  Jake grimaced. ‘The hell is that?’

  ‘Some kind of receiver, far as we can tell. We believe the specimen in your apartment had one too. We think someone has been capturing these creatures and reprogramming them to carry out specific instructions.’

  Ah, that swimmy sensation again. That feeling of reality slipping away, running through his fingers like sand.

  ‘So what you’re saying is that somebody “programmed” that thing to come to my apartment and kill me?’ He shook his head. Things just kept getting stranger and stranger.

  Grandma Stella shook her head again. ‘Not quite. We believe they were looking for this—’

  Before Jake could inquire as to her meaning, she suddenly reached into her dressing gown pocket, rummaging around for a moment before pulling out a small golden key.

  ‘A key?’ said Jake. He scoffed laughter. It was just so stupid. ‘That’s what all this has been about?’

  ‘Not just any key,’ Grandma Stella corrected him. ‘This is the key, Jake. The key that keeps the Door to the Below locked tight.’

  And then, just like that, everything fell into place.

  He blinked. ‘So these “people”, the ones who want to kill you—they’re trying to open the Door?’ He shook his head. ‘But… why? Why on earth would someone want to—?’ He felt himself blink again as the obvious dawned. ‘The Believers!’

  She nodded. ‘Exactly. We had hoped, what with the Board’s intervention some years ago, they had been all but eradicated. Evidently, we were wrong.’

  Jake fell back into the couch’s cushions, dizzy. It all made sense now—in a crazy, totally nonsensical sort of way. Grandma Stella had faked her own death to put the Believers off the scent and ensure the key’s safety. That’s why the thing had been in his apartment last night—somehow, whoever had sent that thing after him, while not necessarily having known about Grandma Stella’s intentions for Jake in the event of her death, had at least known enough about their relationship to presume she’d send the key his way. Thus ol’ Slender-orc in his apartment.

  Jake shook his head, suddenly very, very tired. ‘So what happens now? What do we do?’

  Grandma Stella shrugged. ‘I suppose now the cat’s out of the bag, I’ll return to HQ. Seems pointless me staying out here now. And besides, if the two of you can find me, it stands to reason that whoever—’

  She suddenly cocked her head, frowning

  Jake blinked. ‘What? What’s wrong?’

  She turned to Coleman. ‘Were you followed?’

  He shook his head. ‘No—not me.’ He looked around at Jake and Eliza.

  Jake blinked. ‘Us?’

  ‘Did you check to see if you were b
eing tailed?’

  ‘What? No—we were tailing you. We didn’t even think to—’

  He fell silent as lights flashed through the window—headlights.

  So they had been followed. From the second they left HQ, somebody had tailed them, had continued to do so even after Coleman had pulled his little bait and switch. The hunters had become the hunted. The trailers, the trailees.

  Jake gasped.

  It was trailception.

  The lights arced across the den’s walls as whoever approaching pulled into the drive.

  Before Jake could ask what the hell they were going to do, Coleman shot up from the couch and, snatching a bottle of something from the bar, immediately put out the fire.

  Darkness filled the cabin.

  Jake sighed.

  Oh, great. Now we’re blind, too. As if things aren’t dire enough already…

  There was the sound of doors opening as whoever inside the car climbed out.

  Jake risked a peek out the window. It was just a silhouette at this point, whoever it was for the moment shrouded in darkness.

  Then the figure stepped between the headlight’s beams—

  Jake gasped, any strength he’d retained disappearing instantly.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘No, that can’t be…’

  It was Vogel.

  *

  There was a moment where Jake’s brain failed to process exactly what it was he was seeing. Like the CPU running it all, confused to the point of near madness, had since committed harakiri, and now he was just outer casing with little-to-no processing power. He was all outside, with no functioning inside to make sense of things—this was what his life had become.

  He heard a small voice from somewhere behind him whisper. Sounded like Eliza. ‘Is that who I think it is?’

  ‘Uh-huh,’ said Coleman. Even in the dark, Jake could tell he was frowning.

  Vogel stepped forward toward the house, arms swinging by his sides in that carefree way of his. He was easier to see now, up this close, the light from the car’s headlight’s reflecting back off the house’s siding and lighting up one half of his face like an actor in a poorly lit community-theatre production. He raised his hands to his mouth. ‘Hello? Mr. Fisher? Mr. Fisher, are you there? It’s Pete Vogel.’

  Jake frowned. He didn’t sound overly like a crazy cult-person—not even with that faux-British accent. But then, they never did, did they? At least, not until the Kool-Aid comes out, by which time it’s probably already too late anyway.

  There was the almost undetectable sound of a window sliding open, before Coleman’s voice erupted through the night air like a gunshot. ‘That’s far enough, Vogel.’

  Vogel froze—so quick it was like he’d just walked into an invisible wall. He blinked. ‘Coleman? Is that you? Good heavens, man, what is going on?’ A pause, then, ‘Is Jake with you?’

  ‘What are you doing here, Pete?’

  ‘We found Avery tied up inside Miss Meunier’s office. He said that Jake and Eliza took his clothes. They weren’t at HQ, so we tracked GPS on Eliza’s car—which led us here.’ He shook his head, frowning. ‘But—why are you here?’

  Hmm. It sounded like a feasible story. They had come to check on Jake at his office, and when there was no answer, they had let themselves inside. They heard Avery moaning from behind the faux-bookshelf and untied him, where he had then promptly relayed to them what had happened. And so on and so on. Totally reasonable—so then why did Jake have the sudden sinking feeling the guy was lying?

  ‘Do you think he’s telling the truth?’ he whispered.

  Nobody answered. Outside, wind blew scatterings of leaves against the side of the house.

  They all stood there, the silence spinning out, Jake so tense he thought his heart was going to explode.

  Finally, Vogel let out a breath. ‘That’s it—I’m coming in.’ He stepped forward—

  The gunshot boomed through the darkness, the unexpectedness of it sending Jake’s heart leaping into his mouth.

  A spray of dirt kicked up from the ground mere inches from Vogel’s feet, making him jump.

  ‘Not another step,’ said Coleman. ‘Move so much as an inch and I swear to every god out there I will end you where you stand.’ There was no anger in his voice. Just a cold matter-of-factness about it that was equal parts impressive and terrifying.

  Meanwhile, Vogel was glaring silently down at the ground. He looked outraged. Jake guessed it had been a long time since anyone had last shot at him. ‘This… how DARE you?! I am the—’

  ‘Who’s with you?’

  Vogel stiffened. ‘Nobody. I’m alone.’

  ‘Oh? Then you won’t mind if I do this—’

  Another gunshot tore suddenly through the air, sending Jake jumping backwards, followed shortly after by the tinkle-smash of glass breaking.

  Jake looked back out the window, surprised to find the car’s windshield now a puckered mess of broken glass.

  Seconds passed. Then—

  There was the clunk of doors opening.

  Jake watched as a half a dozen men and women emerged from the car, all dressed in suits, more of those obscene-looking guns in their hands. Not a smile among them.

  ‘You were saying?’ said Coleman.

  Vogel sighed and lowered his head.

  When he looked up again, he was grinning. ‘You know, it really didn’t have to be this way,’ he said. ‘We could have worked something out.’

  ‘That so?’

  Jake blinked, surprised. So Vogel was a bad guy, after all—that, or Jake had just misheard him. In all honesty, there had been so many revelations in his life lately that it was hard simply to keep track of who was who.

  ‘Join us,’ Vogel continued. ‘Leave this mortal business behind. Join us and I’ll see to it He makes you a general. Wouldn’t you like to control the armies of Hell, Coleman? Think of the power you’d wield.’

  Jake sighed.

  Yep—definitely a bad guy. Goddamnit.

  There was a worrying moment’s silence where Jake wasn’t sure if Coleman was considering Vogel’s offer, or reloading his gun.

  Then Coleman scoffed. ‘Thanks—but I think I’ll pass. Besides, I’m allergic to crazy. I come out all in a rash.’

  Vogel shook his head, looking, from what Jake could tell, genuinely disappointed. ‘Such a shame.’ He sighed. ‘All right. I’m going to give you one last chance to bring out the Key before I send my men in there to get it by force. Believe me when I tell you the quality of your death relies solely on your willingness to cooperate.’

  ‘Just try it,’ scoffed Coleman. He chambered another round.

  Vogel chuckled. ‘Defiant, till the end, I see. Very well.’ He looked back over his shoulder at the rest of his group. ‘Surround them! I don’t want anybody getting away!’

  Immediately, the men and women began to move, circling around the side of the house, their guns raised high, faces determined.

  They were surrounding them. In a couple moments, they’d be completely—

  He was interrupted from this train of thought by the sudden sound of a door slamming.

  Jake looked toward where the noise had come from—

  He gasped.

  ‘Grandma Stella!’

  She was walking toward Vogel, one hand clutching the pink fluffy robe to her waist. In the other was the Key. Moonlight danced off of it, making it glimmer and glow.

  From somewhere in the darkness to his right, Coleman shouted, ‘No!’

  Grandma Stella paused and looked back at them, wind whipping at her robe, sending it flying around her ankles. Her face was set, her eyes pinched to slits. She looked pretty epic, Jake thought—like the heroine in some big-budget action movie, off on her way to what was surely to be her final battle. Jake didn’t know it then, but it was how he would always remember her.

  ‘It’s done, Coleman,’ she said, face unflinching, even as the wind blustered around it. ‘They’ve won. Either way, they’re not going to be leaving
here without the Key.’ She turned back to Vogel, who was staring at her with a stunned expression. ‘I want your word, Peter. Your vow you will not harm my grandson.’

  Vogel stared at her, his face a combination of amusement and surprise. ‘Miss Meunier! I must say, for a dead woman you’re looking especially ravishing.’ He laughed and shook his head. ‘Although, I guess I should have expected as much from the “Mistress of Lies”…’

  If Grandma Stella was at all offended by his words, she didn’t show it. ‘Your word, Peter. Jake walks. He isn’t a part of this. You know it as well as I do.’

  Vogel stared at her for a moment, his forehead creased hard in thought. Then he nodded. ‘All right, Miss Meunier. As you wish.’ He held out his hand. ‘Now bring it to me—slowly.’

  She hesitated a moment, then stepped forward, robe flapping, hair dancing.

  She held out the key.

  Vogel reached forward to grab it, still smiling that self-righteous grin—

  What happened next was little more than a blur.

  Grandma Stella brought her other hand around in a swooping arc toward his face. Clutched inside it was another of those demon-guns.

  To her credit, she almost made it—surely would have, too, had Vogel not been thinking the exact same thing.

  There was a flash. Another deafening roar of gunfire.

  Grandma Stella flumped to the dirt, still as the surface of a lake on a cold winter’s morning.

  Everybody in the house gasped.

  Jake stared, his mouth open, unable to process what it was he was seeing. It felt like absolutely everything inside him was recoiling.

  Vogel stared down at Grandma Stella’s body. He tilted his head. ‘You know, I‘ve got to hand it to you, Stella—you sure were one tough old gal. I can see why the Board were so fond of you.’ He bent down, pried the Key from her fingers—

  She lifted her head. ‘You have no idea.’

  She pulled the trigger.

  Vogel let out a cry and fell backwards onto the dirt, hand now a bloody mess of flesh and what may have been too few fingers.

  He stared at what remained of his hand, eyes wide. ‘You—look what you’ve done! My hand!’

  She laughed—a wet, rattling sound. ‘I’d clap, but I wouldn’t want to rub it in.’ Then she collapsed, her head hitting the dirt with a soft thud Jake could hear all the way from the house. It didn’t get up again.