Imperium (Caulborn)

by Nicholas Olivo

  I knew he was just giving me something to do, but I was grateful all the same. Seeing Megan lying there with all those tubes poking out of her was twisting my insides. I walked in a haze until I came to Gearstripper’s workshop. On the far side of the room, Gearstripper was perched on a table, tapping away at a keyboard. “Hi Vinnie,” he called without turning. “Come on in.”

  “You have eyes in the back of your head or something?” I asked as I carefully picked my way across to him.

  “No, I have eyes in the front of my head, which let me look at the monitor that shows the picture from the closed circuit camera that points at the door. I’ve been running tests on that flower that stabbed Megan. It’s nasty, Vinnie. Really nasty.”

  “What’ve you found?”

  “Well, luckily for Megan, it looks like it was intended to kill vampires. Did you know that roses and thorns can be fatal to them?” I shook my head. “Me neither. Those kinds of things don’t make for really good special effects in the movies, I guess. From what I can tell, it was supposed to move through the body, and wrap thorny vines around an undead heart. But since Megan’s alive, the rose didn’t know what to do.”

  “It did something, Gears. Her blood’s turned green.”

  Gears made a face. “The good news is it doesn’t look like the flower will kill her. The bad news is, like you said, we don’t know exactly what it’s doing. A lot of botanical magic got pumped into her system, so we’ll have to keep a close eye on her for the next few hours.” He pointed to a series of monitors on his left. “I’m tapped into her treatment room, so we can keep tabs on her from here if you want.”

  I forced myself to look away from the screen that showed Megan on the bed. Gears sensed my discomfort and shifted the topic. “I figured out what those black specks are, too. Poppy seeds,” he said triumphantly. Gears waited expectantly and after a moment his ears sagged in disappointment. “Poppy seeds,” he repeated dejectedly.

  “Gears, I’ve had a rough day. So what are you saying, our kidnapper had a couple dozen bagels before abducting Lucille?”

  Gears shook his head and sighed. “This is another vampiric weakness that didn’t make it into the movies. You need to read more, Vinnie. One of the old legends says that if a vampire came across a sack of poppy seeds, the vampire would be compelled to count and eat the seeds. So people would spill seeds in front of their front doors to keep vampires from getting in. The vampire wouldn’t be able to move until they had counted and eaten all the seeds, and that would take so long that the sun would come up and immolate them. So someone spilled seeds in front of Lucille and she counted and ate the seeds. The poppy affected her in the same way it would affect a normal person. It knocked her out.”

  “That’s why she wasn’t fighting back,” I said. “She was drugged. But who would drug a vampire? If they were vampire hunters, why not just stake her and be done with it? Why go through the trouble of kidnapping her?”

  “Got me there, Vinnie. I’m just the hired help.”

  Well, this day wasn’t getting any better. I needed some air to clear my head. I went for a long walk as I turned what I knew over in my mind. Someone was kidnapping paranormals. I suspected Leevan, but I needed more proof. Megan’s life was in danger and I was accountable for it. My followers were being attacked by someone called Treggen. All the thoughts whirled around like a cyclone in my head. It got to be too much and eventually I wasn’t even thinking anymore; I was just walking around the city on autopilot.

  “Vinnie?” a voice asked.

  I was startled out of my trance and looked around. I was near the Seanake. How long had I been walking? “Hello?”

  “Over here, Vinnie,” Tim Finnegan’s voice called. “In the alley.”

  I stepped into the alley and walked in a few paces. Tim phased through the wall to my left, along with the spirit of a middle-aged Hispanic man.

  “Miguel,” I said, feeling my stomach knot. “Dammit, what happened?”

  “Mikey here was just crossin’ to the other side,” Tim explained. “We don’t have much time, Mikey, tell Vinnie what happened before you passed.”

  Miguel’s spirit form wavered slightly. When a person died, their spirit was supposed to go on to their destination. Ghosts like Tim were actually pretty rare. So for Miguel to stick around like this, whatever he had to say must be very important.

  “I was in my apartment when these two guys broke in. I tried to fight them off, but one of them pulled out a freeze cannon and blasted me. Next thing I know, I’m strapped down to a bed in a white room. There were all these tubes sticking into my head, and there was this lady on another bed next to me. She was giggling to herself. I think she was nuts. Then this big dude came in, and when he saw I was awake, he futzed with one of the tubes going into my head. That happened a couple of times. Next thing I know, I’m crossing over.”

  I felt sick. “They were experimenting on you?”

  Miguel nodded. “Best as I can tell, yeah. No idea what for, though. I wasn’t conscious long enough to learn that.”

  Part of me wanted to see what I could do for Miguel, maybe ask if there was a message I could give to his family. But Tim was right, we wouldn’t have much time to speak. I needed to get as many answers as I could. I hated myself for that. “Can you describe the big guy?” I asked.

  “He was about six feet tall, shaved head, really tan. Had a tattoo of a sun right here.” He tapped the side of his neck.

  I grimaced. That was Robert Maxwell, a.k.a. Treggen, our favorite antique lover and Bright Side warlord. “Did he say anything to you?”

  Miguel shook his head. “No, Vince. I asked the guy a ton of questions, but he just ignored me.”

  “Okay, how about—”

  “That is quite enough, son of Janus,” a voice whispered. The voice was soft, but the words were hard. We all jumped.

  “Ah, bloody hell,” Tim muttered. “I thought we’d have more time. Look sharp, Mikey. That’d be the Grim Reaper.”

  Chapter 19

  To: Robert Maxwell

  The resulting virus, currently classified as ZN233, is completely fatal to humans. It also corrupts and kills fae, although at a much slower rate. Certain supernaturals, such as vampires, seem unaffected for the incubation period, then abruptly expire. The synthetic life forms, such as the golems and cloned gremlins are immune. Once the regenerative treatment has been perfected, I will conduct further experiments on this virus by injecting it into the lycanthropes to determine their resistance to it. In the meantime, I have synthesized an antidote to the virus, derived from the gremlins’ blood. Note that the antidote must be administered within twelve hours of contracting the disease to be effective. See attachment for full information. A package containing several vials of the antidote has been shipped to the address you specified.

  -Email message recovered from Kira Leevan’s computer

  We turned to see Death striding down the alley toward us. He was cloaked in a wispy black robe, and his scythe was slung over his left shoulder. His stride was determined, but neither slow nor hurried. “You,” he pointed at Miguel, “are late. Go. Now.” Miguel’s spirit vanished. He turned to Tim. “And you, you should know better. We have unfinished business, Mr. Finnegan.”

  “Oh dearest mother me, would you look at the time,” Tim said, checking his pocket watch. “I’m late to visit me poor sick aunt.” He vanished then, too.

  Death turned his hood toward me. I couldn’t see beneath it, but I got the distinct impression that he was unhappy with me. You didn’t want to piss off any of the Horsemen, but Death was the one you really didn’t want to piss off. “Come with me,” he said. He turned and took a step forward. I followed and suddenly we were in a thick fog.

  “Where are we?”

  A table and chairs formed out of the fog and solidified in front of us. “This is the Veil, the realm between the living and the dead. It is my home.”

  You need a better decorator, I thought. But there were just some things you
didn’t say to the Grim Reaper. “And why did you bring me here?”

  “To speak privately. Sit.” He gestured with a skeletal hand at one of the chairs. I sat. He took the chair across from me, and laid his scythe across the table. Then he lowered his hood. The skull that stared at me had glowing blue orbs where its eyes should have been. “Now then, you should know that delaying a spirit from crossing to its final rest can have serious ramifications.” I tried to focus on the words, but random questions kept popping into my mind. Like, how was he enunciating words like ‘ramifications’ when he didn’t have lips?

  I gave myself a shake and looked past him rather than at him, so that I could stay focused on the conversation. “However,” he continued, “I am willing to forgive this transgression if you do a favor for me.” Willing. There’s another one you need lips for. And a tongue.

  I blinked. “What sort of favor?” I asked.

  “The world has changed much over the years,” he said. “People have developed new technologies, new medicines that extend life. I have no quarrel with that, for everyone comes to me eventually. However, there have been many people in this area who should have died recently and have not. There is a facility nearby called the Hope Clinic which seems to be the link between those people. I need you to investigate this for me and stop whatever is happening.”

  Whoa. Whatever Leevan was doing was so bad that Death himself wanted it stopped.

  “You will determine the cause of these unnatural extensions of life and put an end to it.”

  I tried to keep my face smooth. “I suppose I don’t have a choice, do I?”

  “No. And I will have your oath on it.”

  “Now, that’s not necessary,” I said, raising my hands.

  “It is. Your word, or I will bring you early. Since you have willingly delayed a spirit yourself, I have the right.” He tapped his scythe for emphasis.

  Damn. Damn. Damn. I took a deep breath and forced the words out. “I promise that I will find who is responsible for these unethical treatments and stop them.” Another tightening in my chest. Shit. Death nodded to me and stood. I did likewise, and the mists faded. We were back in the alley.

  “I leave you to your task, Vincent Corinthos.” He faded away like a ghost.

  Another form appeared at the mouth of the alley. “You’re a busy man, aren’t you, Vinnie?” Orcus grinned. “C’mon. You know the drill.” We went back to Orcus’ book and I signed a second page. Orcus thumped the book shut and shook his head at me. “Kid, you really gotta learn to keep your mouth shut. I like you, and I know you got good intentions, but the road to this place is paved with them.” The little hole opened above the book again, giving me a view of the damned gods within.

  “Orcus,” I said, not really sure how to ask. “The promise I made to Megan. If she pulls through, is that promised fulfilled?”

  Orcus removed a pair of thick black reading glasses from his inside suit coat pocket and perched them on the end of his nose. He turned back to the page I’d mentioned and tapped it a couple times. After a few moments, he said, “Well, kiddo, I don’t think so. There’s nothing here about context or time. It says you promised that she’d be fine. That could be interpreted as you’ll always make sure she’s fine.”

  “Forever?” I asked. “But Megan’s mortal, she’ll die sometime. Will you think I welched on my promise when that happens?”

  Orcus removed his glasses and sighed. “That’s why I say you gotta learn to keep your mouth shut, kid. A promise like that is binding and eternal. The only way out of it is if she releases you from it.” The book snapped shut with a crack. Well, that was a relief; at least there was a way out. We shifted back to Boston and Orcus vanished.

  I sighed and began the walk back to the Caulborn offices. I checked my watch. It was just past three. The city moved around me; people, cars, lives, and I didn’t notice any of it. I felt wronged for being held accountable for Megan’s condition, and I hated myself for feeling that way. She was my partner, I was supposed to watch out for her.

  It was quarter past four when I got back to the office. I headed straight to the medical wing and was shocked to see Megan up and about. She was back in her street clothes, her skin had returned to its normal hue, and her eyes were as bright as ever.

  “Wow,” I said. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

  She grinned. “Thanks. I feel much better.” Doc Ryan and Mrs. Rita came in. They nodded at me, and the Doc began reviewing some charts with Megan. I gently put my hand on Mrs. Rita’s shoulder.

  “How’d she recover from that so quickly? A few hours ago she was in agony. I thought she’d be out for weeks.”

  Mrs. Rita rubbed her chin. “That sort of magic was intended to kill undead,” she said. “Roses are toxic to vampires, you know. If that flower had burrowed into a vampire, it would have torn the vampire apart from the inside out. But it didn’t know what to do with a living body. So it worked its way through Megan’s system and though it caused her pain, did no permanent damage.” She shook her head. “Such magic is very advanced, but its execution was almost amateurish.”

  “It looked like it worked pretty well to me,” I said.

  She frowned at me. “That’s not what I meant, Vincent. Think about it. You create a flower that’s capable of killing a vampire. Wouldn’t you want to ensure that it only animated when a vampire picked it up? Otherwise, it’s a waste of magic. Whoever created that flower is new to this, and for that we should be thankful.”

  I started to nod my agreement, then hesitated. I had picked up the flower and nothing happened to me. But when I gave it to Megan… “Would the flower work on a Strigoi Viu, if there was such a thing?”

  Mrs. Rita paused. “Now there’s something I hadn’t considered,” she said. “That might make sense, yes. The flower would sense the latent vampirism in a Strigoi Viu, but since Megan hasn’t died and become a vampire yet, the flower’s magic was ineffective.” Her eyes widened. “So there’s a chance that we’ve just found a way to determine which Caulborn are destined to be afflicted with vampirism.”

  “Wait a sec, Mrs. Rita. Strigoi Viu are just a myth. No Caulborn has ever become one.”

  Mrs. Rita fixed me with a hard stare. “No Caulborn agent has ever become one, Vincent. But do you honestly think that every child born with a caul is recruited? No, Strigoi Viu are extremely rare, but they’re as real as you and me. I will speak with Megan about this privately later. Joseph,” she called to Doc Ryan. “I need to speak with you about something.”

  The two of them put their heads together as Megan joined me. “I’m fit for duty.” She grinned. “Let’s go catch some bad guys.”

  I couldn’t meet her eyes. For starters, I was ashamed that I’d let her get hurt. Second, I now knew she was condemned to become an undead. Third, part of me wanted to ask her to release me from that promise I’d made. But how did you even bring something like that up?

  Instead, I said. “I need some time to put a few things in order. Meet me in my office in thirty?” She nodded and I went upstairs to talk to Galahad. After telling him about Miguel, I went back to my office and closed the door. I wanted to forget about Miguel for a while. I shut my eyes and opened my mind to my followers. They were stronger now, the rebuilding was going well, and they felt safe behind Aegeon. Their faith flowed into me, and my batteries recharged. Only a handful of prayer requests had come in, and I tended to these as best as I could.

  That done, I logged onto my computer. I did some searching on what the Hope Clinic did. Going by the materials on their website, the clinic had only opened a few months ago, and specialized in helping people who didn’t have insurance or had fallen on hard times. Dr. Leevan had recently been recognized with an outstanding citizen award for the work she was doing. As I skimmed the data, Megan poked her head in. “Is now okay?”

  “Yeah,” I said as I gestured her in. “I’m doing some research on our favorite doctor.”

  Megan’s nose wrinkled as she lo
oked at the photo of Leevan. “I just don’t like her,” she said. “I take it we need to go back there?” As I nodded, Gearstripper scampered into the room.

  “Hiya, Vinnie, Megan,” he said as he climbed up on my desk chair. He had a canvas pouch slung over his shoulder. “I finished that special project for you, Vinnie,” he said as he handed the bag over to me. I opened the bag and pulled out a modified shock baton. It was about as long as my forearm and heavier than it looked; I could see why Gears was breathing hard.

  “It has a variable rate of discharge,” Gears said. He scooted up close and pointed to a dial on the base of the handle. “The higher you turn this, the more juice it puts out. At the lower settings, it’ll be enough to stun your average human. Medium level will handle shape shifters and maximum strength should disable just about anything.” He looked at me pointedly. “You only get one or two zaps at max power, so don’t go that high unless you really need to.”

  “This is terrific. Thanks, Gears.” I’d asked Gears to build something that could incapacitate all manner of adversaries, but not a gun. Guns are great, but I’m a lousy shot. Now if my faith reserves ran out, I’d have more to fall back on than just my switchblade. Gears looked at me expectantly. “Oh, right.” I reached into my desk drawer and pulled out a box of Violet Crumble bars. Gears took the box and tore it open, ripping into one of the candy bars. Chocolate and bits of honeycomb crumbled down his coveralls as he bit into it. A sublime smile spread across his face. He sighed contentedly.

  “That’s the stuff,” he said when he was done chewing. “A pleasure doing business with you, Vinnie.” Gears grabbed the box up and scampered out of the room.

  “Do you always pay him in candy?” Megan asked.

  “Nah. Sometimes he wants macadamia nuts.”