Seven Deadly Sons

by C. E. Martin

  Kenslir frowned again. "How do we kill him?"

  "I'm guessing the furnace will do it. Assuming that's ethical."

  Kenslir raised an eyebrow in surprise.

  The door to the refrigerated lab opened and Dr. Guerrera and Javi Wallach came out.

  "Everything all right out here?" Dr. Guerrera asked.

  Laura smiled broadly and stepped up close to Kenslir, looping one arm around his waist. "We're doing just great."

  Kenslir stepped to the side, pulling free from the redhead. "Dr. Olson was just telling me that the subject has some vampiric characteristics, but not others."

  "Like a chimera?" Dr. Guerrera asked. "Characteristics from more than one being?"

  "Yes," Laura said, putting her hands in the pockets of her labcoat again. "A living, thinking, momentarily-not-breathing chimera we captured."

  "Meaning?" Javi said.

  "Meaning he's a prisoner," Dr. Olson said, smiling mischievously. "A prisoner we'll have to keep frozen. It's not like we can just execute him."

  "What about interrogation?" Javi asked. "Can you do that?"

  Kenslir looked at his watch. "Possibly. But not tonight. It's almost sunset and I need to join the surveillance team on Greenberg's apartment."

  "Go right on, Marky," Laura said. "Dr. Guerrera can assist me in putting the rent-a-cop back in cold storage."

  Kenslir started to object, but Javi cut him off. "That sounds like something I'm not qualified for. I'll tag along with you, Colonel."

  "Yes, I think that's a good idea," Dr. Guerrera said. "I should really monitor Dr. Olson's vitals as we get closer to midnight."

  "What happens at midnight?" Javi asked.

  "That's when we get to see if I'll stay a real girl," Laura said, smiling and winking at Kenslir.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  "You know, you could be back at the hospital with your partner," Josie said, watching the small house three blocks away. She was on the highest level of a parking garage, holding a large spotting scope.

  "I'd rather catch the bastard that did this to her," Alvarro Sierra said, shivering. Crouched beside Josie, he was using a pair of binoculars to occasionally watch the target house. He had a thin windbreaker on over a fresh shirt but was still cold in the night air.

  "How are you not cold?" Alvarro asked. Josie was wearing a long-sleeved black t-shirt and black fatigue pants with an assault vest covered in bulging pockets and pouches. She also had on a pair of tactical shooter's glasses pushed up on her forehead.

  Josie smiled and pointed to a cup of coffee Alvarro had set on the low wall running around the top of the garage. It turned solid, ice crystals forming across its surface and down the sides. "I am cold."

  "I was going to drink that," the detective said.

  "There's more in the van."

  Alvarro frowned and looked through the binoculars again, checking the street. They were east of the house, which fortunately was located on the edge of a subdivision with plenty of vantage points for he and Josie and the other surveillance teams to watch from.

  "So," Alvarro said after a few minutes. "You and the werewolf?"

  "Yep—much as my dear old grandpa hates it."

  "Your grandfather knows about him?"

  Josie laughed quietly. "The Colonel."

  "The Colonel what?"

  "The Colonel is my grandfather."

  Alvarro thought she was joking for a moment. Then he looked closer at her jet black hair and her dark green eyes. Not as dark as the Colonel's, but still unusual enough to be more than a coincidence. Their faces weren't that close, but now that he knew, he could see the resemblance.

  "What, he's a time traveler?" Alvarro would believe just about anything at this point. He'd seen a lot of weird shit on the force, but in the past twelve hours things had been revealed to him he never would have imagined.

  "No," Josie said, laughing again. "At least, I don't think so. I don't know, though. We only met this year."

  "Then how?"

  "He's a lot older than he looks," Josie explained. "A lot older."

  "But how did you not know him?"

  "Funny story. Apparently, the government tried to make more soldiers like the Colonel—by cloning him. It didn't quite work out—they were just normal kids—and my dad ended up in the foster care system."

  Alvarro tried to imagine an army of Mark Kenslirs. Not a reassuring thought—or was it? America might be a lot safer with an army of men like him. Even one or two could make a world of difference for Miami Metro.

  "Are he and your dad close?"

  "Nope," Josie said, her tone lowering and her face becoming somber for a moment. Alvarro knew he'd hit a nerve. "My dad died when I was very young. I barely knew him."

  "Sorry."

  "S'okay." Josie laughed. "You should have seen my mom's face when she met the Colonel."

  "Clones, hunh?" Alvarro asked. "There a lot of them around?"

  "More than you'd think."

  CHAPTER NINE

  Yadid Greenberg had lived a long full, life. Somehow, he'd defied all the odds in that life. He'd survived the concentration camps. He'd survived the Six Day War, defending a new Israel. And he'd managed to hunt the Nazi bastards that killed his family—in secret, without his amazing wife ever finding out. In fact, she'd gone to her grave never knowing her husband was a spy.

  Before she'd passed, they'd retired together to Miami, settling in to enjoy their last few years together. As always, Yadid's luck had held and he'd remained healthy into his eighties, outliving his beloved wife. It had made him wonder if he was ever going to die.

  On a cool December evening though, he was told death was a very real and imminent threat. Oddly, he hadn't felt relieved after all. He'd felt a little scared.

  "So, what's a pretty little thing like you doing without a husband?" Yadid asked the busty blonde seated across from him. She was the FBI agent who'd come to Yadid's home with a boy and whole team of agents to take him into protective custody just hours ago.

  "I can't seem to find the right one," Pam Keegan said, finally making up her mind. She picked up her pawn and moved it two spaces forward.

  The duo were seated in a lush apartment on an upper floor of Argon Tower—the Detachment's tall headquarters overlooking Biscayne Bay. When given this assignment, Pam had hoped it was because the Colonel was genuinely worried about her. But as many times as the old man across from her had peeked down her loose blouse, Pam knew Kenslir was just being clever again. Have a pretty girl watch an old man, and he wouldn't complain.

  "I have a nice young nephew or two," Yadid said, considering the board. "I could give you their numbers."

  Pam Keegan smiled. "That's very kind of you, Yadid, but I've never had trouble finding a man."

  Yadid smiled, then moved a rook. "I can see that."

  Pam laughed and took a sip of the diet soda she held in one hand. Her off-hand. She kept her right hand free, ready to quickdraw the pistol loaded with silver bullets she had on her right hip. They might be in one of the safest buildings on Earth, but Pam's gut was all twisted up. She could feel trouble coming.

  "So who's the big klutz in the closet?" Yadid asked, sipping his tea.

  Pam smiled, but wasn't surprised. You'd have to be deaf not to hear Jacob Isaacson moving around. The stone soldier was fidgety—eager to see some action.

  "Just a little extra security for you, Yadid."

  "He must be shy."

  Pam smiled again. "We prefer for you only to see our prettiest faces."

  "You have a pretty face?" Yadid asked. "I hadn't noticed."

  Pam laughed out loud. "If only you were a little younger, Mr. Greenberg."

  ***

  "Is this really necessary?" Laura Olson asked as Dr. King listened to her breathing through a stethoscope pressed against her back. "I feel ridiculous."

  Laura, Dr. King, Jason and Dr Guerrera were all in a sub-basement vault, counting down the minutes to midnight. But where King and Guerrera and their young as
sistant had comfortable chairs, Laura was seated in a hard, metal-mesh chair placed in the middle of a small children's wading pool.

  "If you do loose cohesion, we want to be able to recover all your ashes," Dr. King said, stepping out of the empty wading pool. "We can then reconstitute you again."

  "Wow. Thanks. That's a great bedside manner you got there, Bill," Laura said. "Way to make a girl feel safe."

  "We're in uncharted territory here, Dr. Olson," Dr. Guerrera said, adjusting one of three camcorders on tripods placed around the room to record the event. "Even during my tenure here at Argon, we never had an opportunity to evaluate the Fountain's curse to this degree."

  "Do you honestly think I'm going to turn back to dust?" Laura said, glancing over at Jason. "Junior says I'm clean."

  "There's always some kind of repercussion," Dr. Guerrera said. "And the lack of etheric energy in your body now is most troubling. You should be brimming with it, Doctor Olson."

  "Oh, please—call me Laura."

  "Dr. Olson, I assure you, if you do revert to ashen form, we will revive you in the morning," Dr. King said, again checking his watch. He motioned for Jason to step closer.

  Laura swallowed, a bit nervous. "You really think that's possible? Powder is the same thing as twice dead?"

  "Well, no," Dr. King said. "But the Fountain's curse has previously returned subjects to a state of death equal to that before their resurrection. And since you were ash-"

  "I'll go back to ash," Laura finished. "Great. Just what I wanted to hear."

  A thought seemed to occur to Dr. Olson. She abruptly stood up and stepped out of her heels.

  "Laura?" Dr. Guerrera said. "Are you all right?"

  "If I take a powder I don't want it—me—on these shoes. I paid good money for them. What if I scratch the leather?"

  Laura reached down and set her shoes outside the wading pool, then began to unbutton her blouse. "And what's my critical mass? How much powder do you need to bring me back?"

  "Dr. Olson, what are you doing?" Dr. King asked.

  "This is a silk blouse, Bill. One of my favorites. I'm not ruining it."

  Jason Trumball turned away, cheeks reddening. Olson didn't believe in bras.

  Dr. Guerrera walked forward, stepping slowly over the edge of the wading pool and putting a hand on one of Laura's. "Doctor. Laura," she said calmly, almost in a whisper. "You'll be fine. Everything will work out."

  Laura hesitated, her shirt half unbuttoned. "Mark always said the Fountain took back twice what it gives."

  "You can't be double dead," Dr. Guerrera said.

  "Go. Go!" Dr. King said as his watch alarm started to beep. He turned Jason Trumball around and pushed him toward Laura.

  The young man reached out, apprehensively, and touched the redhead's back with one hand.

  Laura Olson's eyes were watering now--she reached up and wiped away a tear. "Look, I'm melt-"

  Her final one-liner was ended by an abrupt scream—a primal roar that welled up and out of her as blue and red lightning flashed from her back, arcing up and around Jason Trumball's arm like glowing snakes.

  CHAPTER TEN

  "Do you think he'll show?" Jimmy Kane asked, his voice a low whisper.

  "Quiet," Mark Kenslir said.

  Jimmy rolled over in bed, careful to keep Yadid Greenberg's sheets pulled up almost over his head. He twisted in place, trying to get comfortable, but one of the old man's dirty t-shirts was digging into his back.

  "And why all these clothes?" Jimmy said, trying to get comfortable. "I mean, aren't his dirty sheets enough?"

  Across the bedroom, hiding in the shadows of an open closet, Mark Kenslir gritted his teeth. "We're masking your scent, Kane."

  "Easy for you to say," Jimmy whispered. "You aren't laying in a dirty clothes hamper." He finally managed to move the shirt out from under him, pushing it against the other soiled clothes all around him in the bed.

  "Kane—shut up!" Kenslir hissed. "Vampires have excellent hearing, too."

  Jimmy lay quietly for a few minutes, but the boredom was too much for him. And Yadid's pillow was really uncomfortable.

  "I need to talk to you about Josie," Jimmy said.

  "Kane," Kenslir said in a low growl.

  "Look, I know how you're old-fashioned and all, and technically you're her grandfather-"

  "Kane, you really need to be quiet."

  "You're not broadcasting are you?" Jimmy said, suddenly embarrassed. While the team normally stayed in constant communication with Command during all missions, Kenslir hadn't wanted to take any chances. He'd ordered that he and Jimmy be completely dark for the ambush.

  "Whatever you want to talk about can wait, Kane. We have a job to do."

  "I want your blessing," Jimmy blurted out.

  The room was silent for several long seconds. Jimmy felt the hair on the back of his neck rise up.

  "My blessing?"

  "I want to ask Josie to marry me," Jimmy said, rolling over again. Even in his human form, his eyes were still superior to those of ordinary men. He should be able to make Kenslir out in the closet if he just strained enough. But once again, Kenslir was ninja-like in the shadows of the dark room.

  "This isn't the time or place-"

  "When is it? We're under surveillance twenty-four hours a day. I'm beginning to think you have my bathroom bugged," Jimmy said.

  "You need to be asking Josie's mother this," Kenslir finally said.

  "I know—you're not her dad, you've only known her a few months... but she thinks of you as her grandfather. As her blood. And Josie's an old-fashioned girl. I guess she got that from you."

  Mark Kenslir felt at his wrist in the closet. The Braille watch he wore revealed the time. Midnight. If the monster responsible for the killings was coming, it would be any minute now according to Wallach.

  "Kane. We'll talk tomorrow. Just be quiet. It's time."

  Jimmy started to say something but relented. He felt better finally getting this off his chest. Now if he could only get all this stinky laundry off his chest.

  ***

  The sudden rush of cold air nearly took the breath away from Pam Keegan. It was like a physical blow to her chest. It was completely unexpected and took the seasoned agent completely by surprise. She was trying to gasp for a breath when she saw the source of the cold.

  Ten feet away, right near the wide, floor-to-ceiling windows of the apartment, the air was shimmering and swirling, distorted and out of focus, like looking through a large lens. The circle was at least seven feet in diameter, reaching from floor almost to the ceiling. And something more than bright, white light was coming out of it.

  Its foot was long and tipped with claws that could rip through flesh like knives. Fur—white, streaked with tan—wrapped around the foot and up the leg emerging from the shimmering circle. The leg was attached to furry hips that led up to a wide torso rippling with huge muscles beneath its pale pelt. Arms reached out, seemingly grabbing the sides of the strange circle of cold and bright white light. The creature was pulling itself through from wherever the impossible opening originated.

  Pam Keegan fired her pistol into the creature's wolf-like head with one hand as she shoved Yadid to the floor with the other.

  "Get down!" she screamed.

  ***

  Laura Olson had finally stopped screaming, Now she panted like an injured animal, hunkered over the small wading pool, her body convulsing and bulging all over, as though pockets of air were going to erupt beneath her skin. Her slacks and silk blouse were shredded, her once creamy skin heaving up and out of the ripped fabric like throbbing boils.

  Dr. King and Dr. Guerrera had stepped back now.

  So, too, Jason Trumball had broken off contact with Olson when the crackling of energy he was pulling from her body abruptly ceased and she began her convulsing.

  "Doc?" Jason said, a scared expression his face. He was looking to Dr. King for guidance.

  "Laura?" Dr. King called out. "Laura—can you hear
me?"

  Laura Olson, or what had been Laura Olson, dropped to one knee, and the convulsing increased. Now though, instead of stray upheavals of flesh swelling here and there on her body, her entire frame began to grow.

  "Jason!" Dr. King said, gesturing for the young boy to move in.

  Jason Trumball stepped in, grabbing at the grotesque, mottled pink and red flesh swelling on Laura Olson's back. Blue and purple veins throbbed in the meaty flesh and he hesitantly pressed both palms against it.

  Again, red and blue lightning-like discharges erupted from the gap between his palms and Laura Olson's back. But this time the energy was not being drawn from the redhead's back, it was being draw from Jason.

  Twin knots of flesh formed on Laura's back, each the size of a basketball. Skin split open as the knots suddenly burst, exploding blood and bodily fluids out in a vile spray. Along with the exploding meat, twin shafts of flesh extended, growing rapidly. They extended to lengths of nearly ten feet, then snapped open—leathery, bat-like wings.

  The monster in the center of the room suddenly rose to its feet, spinning in place. It backhanded Jason Trumball, knocking the terrified teen off his feet and sending him flying into a wall.

  Teen met concrete, and the reinforced gray wall crumbled from the impact. Jason tumbled to the floor, apparently unconscious.

  Then the monster turned toward Dr. King and Dr. Guerrera.

  Where before Laura Olson had been a beautiful young woman with creamy skin and a face suitable for modeling, a demonic-looking creature now stared at the doctors with malevolence in its yellow eyes. Its face was like the rest off its misshapen body—covered with boil-like lumps on purple-veined flesh knotted with cords of inhuman muscles threatening to explode free. Four horns stood out on the creature's forehead—each several inches long and glistening with fresh blood from having erupted through the former doctor's delicate skin.

  Maria Guerrera began screaming for her life.