-NS
End Coded Transmission
When we finally got into the office building’s foyer, I leaned against the wall and took a few slow breaths before heading inside.
Jake nodded to us as we got back into the office. I handed the toaster over to him. “Would you kindly carry this up to Gears’ workshop?” Jake nodded and took the box from me. He and Gears disappeared into one of the elevators.
I took the canvas bag and its gruesome contents into the medical wing. Mrs. Rita looked up at me as I walked in. “Early for you, isn’t it, Vincent?”
“Well, I had a gremlin give me a wake-up call about two hours ago,” I said. I hefted the bag. “He brought me to another corpse that I need you and the Doc to look at.”
Mrs. Rita capped her pen and put it in the #1 Mom mug on her desk. Framed photos lined the edge of her desk, showing her seven children and her nineteen grandchildren. Crayon drawings with “I love you, Grandma” were tacked up above the desk.
She gestured for me to follow, her bulky frame moving nimbly among the shelves of medical supplies. She picked out a handful of tools and then we entered one of the examination rooms. A long steel table stood in the center of the room. Mrs. Rita flicked a switch and a light slightly brighter than the sun snapped on over the table. I screwed my eyes shut and leaned against the wall for a moment. When I could finally see, I brought the bag over to the table. Mrs. Rita smiled at me. She pulled a hair net over her white-streaked hair, and washed her hands for two solid minutes. Then she put on a thick pair of glasses and motioned for me to get moving.
I set the bag on the table and gently stretched out the corpse. The silver blood didn’t bother her. She peered at it for a moment, then nodded. “This looks like what Joseph was analyzing when I came in today,” she said. Mrs. Rita was the only person I knew who called Doc Ryan by his first name. “Silver blood, eh?” I nodded. “Joseph said it looked like bodily fluids, but nothing natural. With the body, we can learn more.” She shut her eyes and held her hands about a foot above the corpse. She kept them outstretched like that, sliding up and down the body.
After a few moments, she frowned and lowered her hands to her sides. She made some notes on a pad of paper and mumbled something to herself. Then she took a long pair tweezers from a tray next to her and delicately probed one of the creature’s chest wounds. After a moment, she fished out a bullet and dropped it into a small cup.
She continued her probing, making notes about the creature’s other wounds. She paused on some depressions by its shoulders. After a few moments, she looked at the thing in disgust. “This creature was made by men. It was not birthed by nature.”
“You said that Keri Greene’s killer might not have been made by nature. Do you think this thing murdered her?”
“I will need to have the machine do some analysis, but I believe that is a strong possibility, yes.”
“It sort of looks like a gremlin,” I said. “Do you think it was cloned? Maybe someone captured a gremlin and is making enhanced creatures from gremlin genes?”
Mrs. Rita looked up at me, her dark eyes unreadable. She pursed her lips. “I will need to speak with Joseph about this thing, I think,” she said. “He will be here soon.”
I looked at my watch. It was just past five a.m.
She tipped her head to the side. “You look tired, Vincent. Rest a while.”
I shook my head. “I’m up. Let me get a couple of Pepsis into me and I’ll be fine.”
She shook her head. “I won’t have you children just living off of soda.” She dragged me back to her desk. There was a dorm fridge there. Mrs. Rita pulled out a single serving carton of OJ and a slice of banana bread that was neatly packed in wax paper. “You eat these, Vincent,” she said, handing me the food. “Honestly, I need to speak with Petra about how you eat when she’s not around.”
There are some people you just don’t argue with, and Mrs. Rita’s one of them. I accepted the food, thanked her, and went up to my office. I quickly ate, then closed and locked the door. I sat down on the floor, leaned my back against my desk, and opened my mind to my followers. Instantly their voices flooded into my mind. For the next thirty minutes, I answered prayers. I sighed as my faith reserves were replenished. It was good to have my powers back.
When I was done, I noticed that my voicemail light was blinking. I played the message and heard Frank Grady’s voice. “Mr. Corinthos, I ran those photos past the morticians. I’m sorry, but no one recognized anyone from them. No incidents were reported at the Hope Clinic, either.” Well, that was good, at least no one had turned up dead. I hung up the phone and rubbed my temples. I needed caffeine if I was going to make any progress on this.
I was buying a Pepsi at the vending machine when Megan rounded the corner. “Morning, Partner,” she said. I glanced at my watch. How anyone could be so perky at quarter past six in the morning was beyond me.
“Hi Meg. You always start work this early?”
She giggled. “No, but I wanted to get a jump on things and finally finish unpacking the boxes of stuff I brought from New Mexico.”
I filled her in on what Gears and I had found. She listened intently.
“Okay, Mrs. Rita said that she should have some answers this morning on those vines we brought in. Let me put my coat away and we can go talk to her.” She ducked into her office as I rubbed my eyes and tried to clear my head. I knocked back the rest of my Pepsi and together we went downstairs to Mrs. Rita.
Doc Ryan was hanging up his coat as I entered the medical wing. He nodded to us. “Ah, you’re here. Good. I left a test running against that silver substance last night. Let’s see what it’s turned up.”
“Turns out it’s blood, Doc.”
“You a doctor, now, Corinthos?” We walked into the lab where Mrs. Rita was still making notes about the gray gremlin’s corpse. The Doc’s eyes widened at the sight. “What in blue blazes is that?”
“I believe it is a new species of gremlin, Joseph,” Mrs. Rita said. “The silver liquid Vincent and Megan brought in the other day is its blood.”
The Doc’s brow furrowed into an expression of concern. “I’ll be over to help you with that in a moment, Mrs. Rita,” Doc said. “Did you speak to them about the vines yet?” Mrs. Rita shook her head and the Doc turned back to me. “All right. We ran a bunch of tests against the vines you brought in. Turns out they’re enchanted aconitum.”
“Aconitum,” I said. “Right. Now, let me think, aconitum, that’s used as a spice in certain salsas, isn’t it?” The Doc whacked me upside the head.
“It’s wolfsbane, Vincent,” Megan said. “That explains how a handful of thin men were able to bring down two very strong werewolves.” She tipped her head at the Doc. “You said they were enchanted? How so?”
“Mrs. Rita said she found traces of a powerful animation spell within the vines.”
“Golems?” I asked.
“Looks like it,” the Doc replied. “Someone built those creatures intending to use them to capture lycanthropes.” And Caulborn agents, I thought, remembering the men who had captured Mikey. A golem would’ve been able to shrug off the effects of Mikey’s defensive wards.
“So that leaves who and why,” Megan said, jotting things down on a pad.
“Who, I think I can answer,” I said. I looked at the Doc. “James Gattwood?”
The Doc nodded. “Sure looks like his handiwork.”
“What’s his story? Necromancer? Reanimator? Deranged herbologist?”
“None of the above, Meg,” I said. “James Gattwood is a merchant. A man who builds golems on commission for the wealthy supernatural in the area. His customers use them for servants, bodyguards, you name it.” I turned back to the Doc. “Thanks, Doc. I think Megan and I need to take a trip uptown.”
“Have fun, you two. Oh, and Vincent, can you pick me up a carton of cigs while you’re out?”
“You shouldn’t smoke, you know,” Megan said.
“And you should do what you
r elders tell you,” the Doc replied as he handed me some cash. He winked at Megan, then went back into the medical area.
“He’ll grow on you,” I said.
Megan smiled. “He reminds me of one of my uncles. I like him. So, this Gattwood person makes golems? Is it common for people around here to have one? Can they blend in with regular people? Besides kidnap werewolves, what else can they do?”
We headed for the car as I answered. “It’s not unheard of for a supernatural player to have golems, but I wouldn’t say they’re common. They’re expensive, and Gattwood’s made a small fortune over the years. He’s got a well-deserved reputation as the best golem maker on the east coast, because yes, his golems can blend in with regular people. The golems other people make look like mud or are only vaguely humanoid. Gattwood’s can pass for human even under scrutiny. As for what else they can do, well, they’re strong and durable, but it really depends on what he’s got in mind when he builds them. I suppose they can do just about anything.”
Megan peppered me with more questions as we drove, and by the time we arrived at James Gattwood’s building about an hour later, I felt like I’d just gone through the “Golemcraft” category on Jeopardy. We entered a spacious reception area, furnished in cheery colors. Magazines, and recent ones at that, were displayed neatly on tables next to the chairs, and there was a television mounted on the wall. A sign reading “Please ask receptionist for headphones” hung directly below the television. The receptionist was absent, so I walked up to her desk and rang the bell.
About ten seconds later, an extremely leggy redhead emerged from the door to my right. She was close to six feet tall, and had her scarlet hair pulled back in a braid over one shoulder. The red dress she was wearing was business-appropriate, but fitted so that it left little to the imagination.
She moved with an inhuman grace and her smile was dazzling. If she’d been in a toothpaste commercial, there would’ve been a gleaming starburst off her teeth, followed by that ting sound. “Good morning, sir, ma’am,” she purred. “Do you have an appointment?”
“No,” I said. “But kindly tell James that Vincent Corinthos is here to see him.”
“Mr. Gattwood is quite busy today, sir,” she said, her smile never wavering. “I will be happy to take down a message for you.”
“I’m sure he is,” I replied. “But for me, he can take five minutes.”
“I don’t think that will be possible, sir.”
I looked hard at the woman. Something about her eyes wasn’t right. It hit me that she wasn’t blinking enough. Now I really felt stupid. “James,” I growled. “You get out here right now or I’ll find whatever magic word is spelled out on this doll’s forehead and reduce her back to her component parts.” The receptionist calmly walked to her desk and sat down. Then her head tilted awkwardly to one side and her mouth cracked open.
A moment later, the side door opened again. A balding man just an inch or two taller than Megan popped out. He had a pair of goggles propped up on his forehead and a pair of headphones hung around his neck. Doubtless these let him see through the receptionist’s eyes, hear what was said to her, and somewhere he had a microphone that would let him speak through her.
“Morning, Caulborn Corinthos,” he said in a cockney accent. “Honestly, you didn’t need to threaten poor Jessica like that. She’s quite a good girl, she is, really.”
“New mouthpiece model, huh? I imagine it’s very popular with the younger crowd.”
“The older ones, too.” James said. “Now I am busy, so what brings you to darken my door? I’ve already seen one Caulborn this month, and that was too many.”
I glanced at Megan. “Other Caulborn? Who?”
“That pale fellow with the light hair, what was his name? Ah, yes, Singravel.”
I forced my face to stay smooth. “Yes, I’ll need to speak with you about that as well. In the meantime, has anyone recently commissioned a wolfsbane golem from you?”
“Wolfsbane? Haven’t made one of those in years. Last one was for a fellow who was traveling to Romania. He and the construct were killed in a plane crash. Terrible shame, that was one of the prettiest wolfsbane golems I’d ever built.”
“Anyone express an interest in learning how to make one?” Megan asked.
“Just your man, Singravel,” Gattwood responded. “He confiscated most of the books I had on herbological golems.”
“I’ll need a list of the titles he took,” I said.
James gave me a sly smile. “You didn’t know he was taking them, did you?”
“Mr. Gattwood, we certainly understand you’re a busy man, and don’t want to waste your time with inane chatter,” Megan said. “You were about to provide us with a list of the books Caulborn Singravel borrowed.”
“Borrowed?” Gattwood began, “Stole is more—”
“As such, I think it best if you retrieved said list of titles. Additionally, I’d ask that you tell us if there are any components unique to a wolfsbane golem’s creation so we might track down whoever is creating competition to your business.”
“Competition? What are you—”
“You of all people should appreciate the dangers of unauthorized golems being set loose in the city,” Megan continued in a cool tone. “Should such occurrences be allowed to continue, the Caulborn would need to take drastic measures, which would not be limited to shutting down all golems and the operations that created them.”
Gattwood’s mouth hung open. “You’re saying someone else in my city is making golems?” I nodded. “Come in the back,” he said gruffly. I smiled at Megan. Her dimple made an appearance as she winked at me. Gattwood grumbled under his breath about upstarts worming their way in on his territory. He made a handful of gestures and Jessica languidly got to her feet and opened the door for us.
We walked into a small office. It was furnished in stainless steel; the desk, the chairs, the cabinets, everything was metal. Jessica strode over to a chair, sat, and then resumed her head tilted standby mode. Overall, the shop spoke of a man who wanted all the things around him to be solid. Metal shelves lined the walls, and many of these were filled with books. A two foot section of one shelf was completely bare, and here James paused. Then he grabbed a pad of paper from the desk and scratched down some names.
“Herbological golems are some of the easiest to make,” he said. “The books I gave Singravel were standard construction manuals. Nothing fancy there. He just said the Caulborn needed them for research purposes.”
“I see. And are there any materials that are unique to a plant golem’s construction?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Just the plant that you want the golem to be made out of. If you want to imbue it with other abilities, then you need other items.”
“What sort of items? And did Caulborn Singravel take any books on imbuements?” Megan asked.
“He did, and it was a pretty comprehensive book. I don’t think there’s any one item in there I could tell you about; there are just too many of them.”
“Is there anything they might have in common?” I asked.
“Sure.” Gattwood nodded. “Age.” I looked at him blankly. He sighed. “Always have to spell it out for you lot, don’t I?” He shook his head. “Look, when you make a golem, you incorporate things into its body. Let’s say you want a strong, fighter-type golem. Then you want to include some weapon, say, a sword, into its makeup. The nature of the item helps determine the nature of the golem. In that case, the older the sword, the more powerful the golem will be, because the sword’s nature is more firmly ingrained.”
“So if you make one golem with a sword that was forged yesterday, and a second with a sword that was made in medieval England, then the second one will be stronger?” Megan asked.
“Ten or twenty times stronger, yes,” Gattwood replied.
I swallowed as something clicked. “Just curious, would you ever use lenses in a golem’s construction? Like from old telescopes or reading glasses?”
/> Gattwood nodded. “Sure, if you wanted a tracker.”
“Tracker?” Megan asked.
“A golem that can see things people can’t. Sometimes it’s footprints, sometimes it’s auras. What the golem can see is largely determined by the age of the lenses and the type of glass used. So a pair of reading glasses with a red tint might let the golems see auras, while an old telescope would let it see very far, or perhaps even through solid objects. These are the hardest to make, you understand, because while man’s been making weapons for tens of thousands of years, lenses are a more recent invention.”
“I see,” I said, taking the list from Gattwood. “Thank you for your time today, James. We’ll be in touch, and I’ll be sure to get Caulborn Singravel to return the books he borrowed.”
Megan and I showed ourselves out. “Nathan Singravel?” Megan asked as we walked back to her car. “Didn’t you say he was Miguel Gomez’s ex-partner?”
“Yes. Nathan was kicked out of the agency for selling Caulborn secrets. He was sentenced to fifty years at Ashgate.” I didn’t like where this was headed. If Singravel had escaped Ashgate, we should’ve heard about it. And now he was impersonating a Caulborn agent and had obtained information used to create golems that were kidnapping Boston’s paranormal citizens.
And he was building them with parts that had been ordered from Thad’s antique store.
Chapter 10
Begin Coded Transmission
As time progressed, more and more of the Urisk worshipped Corinthos. While the Urisk had other gods at one time, the allure of seeing one perform miracles in person converted the majority of the Urisk. It is said that some of them still cling to their old faith, but this is only a small percentage of the population.
With so many Urisk actively worshipping him, his powers increased exponentially, and he has stated that while on the Bright Side he can change the physical composition of the landscape, alter the realm’s weather patterns and heal his followers with a touch. He may border on omnipotent, but Corinthos is not omniscient, and is as fallible on the Bright Side as the old Greek and Roman gods were on Earth.
Imperium (Caulborn) Page 9