Blue Shadow

by Brad Magnarella

  I took a deep breath and plunged in. The medium was just as Takara had described it—less liquid and more like a gel. I swam through it in powerful strokes, the goggles doing their job of keeping the stuff out of my eyes. I fixed my sights on the child in the very back, a young girl I recognized as Julia, the fifth child taken. Tubes began to wriggle from the walls. Muted cracks sounded as Takara shot through them, allowing me to focus on the child.

  When I reached her, I looked over the tubes running into her face. Were they draining her life? Keeping her alive? Both?

  Only one way to find out.

  I took the wormwood Chepe had given me, and rubbed it along the tube entering her left ear. The segmented tube contracted and spasmed as though trying to shrink from something noxious, then withdrew from her ear. The other tubes followed suit. Before they could recover, I wrapped an arm around Julia’s waist. She jerked, as though from a cough reflex, and her eyes shot open.

  I turned and swam hard for the opening. Moments later, we were out. Julia gagged until a gout of greenish fluid poured from her mouth. She spit several times and began to cry. A good sign. I set her on her side and plunged back in.

  This time, I recovered two kids.

  “Keep it up,” I told Takara as I set down the gagging, crying children.

  She nodded as she changed mags, oblivious to the blood flowing from her thigh and pooling around her right boot.

  Two more trips netted me five more children, including the boy who had been grabbed by the undead bull. Just had one to go. The final child was Miguel Bardoza, the first child taken, and belonging to the family who had seen us off earlier in the day. As I swam toward him, I thought of his parents’ desperate eyes and his sister, who had acknowledged my wave with one of her own. The boy’s curly hair fluttered gently in the suspension.

  When I arrived beside him, I repeated the ceremony with the wormwood. The tube writhed from the contact, but instead of releasing Miguel, it worked in coordination with the others to tug him deeper into the chamber.

  Was the wormwood losing its strength?

  I surged after Miguel as rounds zinged past me, severing the tubes reaching from the walls. I squinted past the boy to see where the tubes were taking him. In the back wall, a mouth was opening. But it was less like the ones on the stalagmite creatures and more like a fleshy sphincter.

  The tubes are pulling him too fast, I thought as I struggled to find a higher gear. Not going to reach him in time.

  And the angle of the tubes doing the pulling was such that Takara wasn’t going to get any clean shots.

  I stretched an arm back and gave her the cease-fire sign. When shots continued to rip through the tubes reaching for me, I repeated the sign with more emphasis. Takara had to be wondering what in the hell I was doing, but the shots stopped. As tubes wrapped me, I made sure to keep them off my right arm. They began pulling me after Miguel, pulling me toward the mouth.

  I let them, even straightening my body so I would move through the suspension more cleanly.

  It’s working. I’m gaining on him.

  We were almost to the mouth when I drew even with Miguel. With a gurgling roar, I slashed my talons through the tubes binding my legs. They fell away in pieces. I planted a foot above the mouth’s muscular lips and slashed again, this time through the tubes wrapping my body. Freed, I reached over, grabbed Miguel as he was about to enter, and sliced through the tubes around his head.

  Drawing him to my side, I thrust us from the wall. But something was happening—a force from the mouth was pulling us toward it.

  Its draining the room, I realized, sucking all the suspension out.

  I signaled wildly to Takara, my lungs beginning to burn from lack of oxygen. I prayed she understood my message. Seconds later, grenade rounds punched past us and into the sphincter.

  I covered Miguel as the detonations went off. Several shards of shrapnel hit my Kevlar. One knifed through the side of my neck, but that was all right. I could heal. More importantly, the suction force had stopped. I looked back to find the sphincter sagging like the mouth of someone who had suffered a major stroke.

  Takara switched back to the automatic rifle as I stroked toward her, blood from my closing wound trailing behind me. I emerged from the chamber with a gasp and looked down at Miguel. His eyes remained closed. Worse, he wasn’t trying to breath. Around us, the eight other children were coughing and crying, but Miguel only lay limp in my arms. I held his chest to my ear until I picked up the barest pulse. I flipped him over and began a modified Heimlich, using the large knuckle of my thumb.

  “C’mon,” I urged.

  I thought again of his parents and sister as he jerked with the thrusts. Finally, he ripped one of the loudest belches I’d ever heard, and a torrent of the green stuff splashed over the floor. Miguel spit a few times, then rubbed his eyes. I turned him back over, and he blinked up at me.

  “Un lobo?” he rasped. A wolf?

  “That’s right,” I laughed in relief. “Un lobo.”

  I set him down and keyed my earpiece. “We’ve got ’em,” I said, before realizing we didn’t have a connection down here. What had Chepe said? When we were ready to come back, magic would show the way?

  “Over there,” Takara said.

  I followed her finger to where a line of purple light was glimmering into view: the way out.

  “My arms are big enough for six or seven if you can handle two,” I said, putting my gear back on. “How’s your leg.”

  “It will be fine,” she said, even as she limped on it.

  Hopefully Yoofi or Chepe would be able to heal her once we were out. I pulled on my helmet last, then began gathering the kids. Some accepted being scooped up, others struggled and screamed. I left the two who were standing for Takara. She took one in each hand and cocked her head for me to lead.

  I followed the trail of purple light, vigilant for anything else that might fly or drop down on us. But the Chagrath seemed to have amassed his forces in front of the hidden chamber that had held the children. Our way was clear. I didn’t like the rumbling around us, though. Something told me it was the Chagrath redoubling its efforts to undermine El Rosario.

  I moved at what was about quarter speed for me, glancing back to make sure my teammate was keeping up. She was, even though she winced every time she planted her right foot.

  “Come on, Takara. You can do this.”

  She narrowed her eyes as though I’d just insulted her. “I’m fine.”

  After what felt like a mile, we turned a corner and an opening appeared ahead. Beyond, I could make out Chepe. He was sitting cross-legged at the edge of the portal, his face aglow in candlelight.

  “We’re almost there,” I called back.

  When I turned to face the hole again, a force hit me in the side, and the kids went flying. I landed on my back and looked up. The clown Baboso was standing over me. Only he was much bigger down here. I couldn’t remember seeing him smile before, but now his red-painted mouth stretched into a grin revealing a pair of metallic fangs. Their scent was unmistakable.

  Silver.

  26

  I leapt up and spread my arms so that I was between Baboso and the children. None of the little ones seemed to have been hurt—the floor of the cavern was soft and wet. I listened to them crawl to the wall behind me, where they gathered in a sobbing huddle. Takara had shoved her two children to the ground and was advancing with both wrist blades extended.

  As precise a shot as she was, the corridor was too crowded for a firefight. I slung my MP88 around to my back, then yanked my gloves off. Baboso’s blood-speckled eyes moved from me to Takara and back.

  Then they shifted to the children.

  “Forget it,” I snarled. “You’re never touching them again.”

  I eyed his fangs warily. I wondered briefly if the gang to which this vampire had belonged was at war with werewolves, hence the silver-plated teeth. Regardless, he’d never faced a wolf like me before.

  I lung
ed in low and pistoned a hand up. The black blades of my talons tore through cold, bloated flesh. By the time the vampire clown’s entrails spilled out, the talons of my other hand were arcing toward his throat. Blood jetted up, but not from the clown.

  A sensation like molten fire exploded through my hand and down my arm. Without me even seeing him move, his silver-plated fangs had punched through my palm. The pain boiled my blood.

  With a roar, I drove my free fist into his forehead. The impact dented his skull and drove him, stumbling, into the far wall. But he was still grinning, only now with a hairy slab of my hand dangling from his teeth. I staggered back, holding my wounded hand to my stomach. The tissue was regenerating, but not as fast as the clown’s. His stomach closed at the same time his forehead popped back out.

  He swallowed my piece of hand and came forward.

  Takara met him this time, blades flashing. But in another faster-than-the-eye-can-see move, Baboso pummeled her with a backhand. The blow knocked Takara to the ground, where she rolled several times.

  Need to slow him down, I thought, which is going to mean a stake through the heart.

  As Baboso tracked Takara, who was laboring up to a knee, I drew a stake from my belt with my good hand and lunged forward. He caught the hand and buried his fangs back into my flesh.

  I staggered from the fresh torrent of pain. I’d almost forgotten how much silver hurt.

  The stake fell to the ground. The clown giggled around my hand between slurps of blood. He was draining me—and way too fast. I tried to muscle him back, but I was too weak. I brought my weapon around on its sling. When he giggled again, I jammed the rifle barrel into his mouth.

  “Suck on this,” I grunted.

  The burst of automatic fire blew out the back of his head. The big clown fell ass down and stared at me in a daze, his eyes jittering in different directions. On instinct, I dropped the barrel to his chest, but I’d heard a couple of the rounds carom off a moment before. I was lucky none had struck the children. With a blood-caked hand, I recovered the stake from the ground and made another lunge for the clown’s heart. He clubbed my hand away. On my next attempt he hit me even harder.

  His eyes straightened as he rose to his feet.

  “The Chagrath is tapped into him somehow,” Takara said. “We can’t defeat him this way.”

  No wonder the clown was moving so damned fast. The Chagrath’s realm, the Chagrath’s rules. I glanced at Takara, then at the back wall, where all nine children were huddled now.

  “Take them,” she said.

  “I’m not leaving you here alone.”

  “Take them!”

  Her voice was changing, becoming more piercing. When I glanced at her again, she was changing. The red light blazing from her eyes and palms was radiating around her, creating the same feathered dragon I’d glimpsed during our one-on-one exercise a week earlier.

  Only now the dragon was growing to fill the corridor.

  “Go!” she shrieked. But her lips hadn’t moved. The word had come from the dragon’s beaked mouth. “And don’t return, unless you wish to die.”

  I backed away and then turned toward the children. “Vamose!” I said. “This way.”

  I herded them toward the portal and the end of the purple trail that still glimmered along the floor. The children complied, anxious to escape what must have seemed like a never-ending nightmare.

  The portal rippled with the first child’s passage. Beyond, I saw Yoofi startle back before understanding what was happening. He took the child by the hand and ushered her over to the blanket against the wall. Olaf moved into a position to stand guard over her.

  When the rest of the children peered back at me, I made a brushing motion with my hand, telling them to join Olaf and the girl. They did, plunking through the portal like pebbles into a well.

  I noticed one child standing frozen beside me. It was Miguel. The bits of jelly over his face glistened red as he stared back down the corridor. When I followed his gaze, I understood why. The vampire clown Baboso, the one who had abducted him, was thrashing inside a firestorm. Takara hovered above him, no longer my teammate, but another being entirely, the fire seeming to radiate from her feathery form. Flesh blew from the vampire clown’s screaming body. I swallowed, finding the show of power both beautiful and terrifying.

  “Go!” the dragon shrieked again.

  I wrenched my gaze away, lifted Miguel into an arm, and carried him through the portal.

  “Mr. Wolfe!” Yoofi exclaimed. “You are all right!”

  I nodded and handed Miguel to him. As he took the child and sat him on the blanket with the others, I noticed the shaking around us wasn’t just the vertigo of having returned from the Chagrath’s realm. The entire mountain felt like it was about to come crashing down.

  Amid the chaos, Chepe continued to sit cross-legged at the edge of the portal. Light from dozens of candles wavered over his closed eyes. The bag with the wormwood rested in the palms of his upturned hands.

  “We’re just waiting on one more,” I told him.

  When he didn’t answer, I turned to Yoofi. “How close is he to being ready?”

  “How close?” he said. “He’s been ready for hours!”

  “Hours? But we were only down there for…” I trailed off as I remembered Takara’s last experience in the realm. What had felt like a few hours to her had, in fact, been an entire day and night.

  “Yes, yes!” Yoofi said “It is almost midnight! Where is Takara?”

  “She’s coming,” I said, peering into the portal. But I still couldn’t see anything beyond the ridges and teeth that dropped into blackness. They shuddered in violent quakes.

  Almost midnight? I checked my watch. Fucking hell.

  “C’mon, Takara,” I whispered toward the portal.

  I keyed my earpiece, which was working again. “How’s it going down there, Rusty?”

  “Not good, boss. We’re talking non-stop seismic activity for the last hour. I’m losing equipment left and right. My monitor for Drone 1 crash-landed right before you called. Trying to reroute the feed…” He grunted. “Reroute the feed to one of the few computers still standing.”

  “Hang in there. We got the kids out.”

  “Well, hot damn!” Rusty said in relief.

  “A few more minutes and Chepe will hit it with the wormwood.” I continued to watch the portal for Takara. “And we’re still clear up here?”

  “Last I checked. Like I said, the monitor took a swan dive. Shit. Someone’s pounding on the door.”

  “See who it is first,” I said.

  “Lost that monitor too, but it’s gonna be the mayor. She called a little bit ago and we got cut off.”

  “No, you need to—” I started to say, but was drowned out by the unmistakable sound of a shotgun blast through the feed. “Rusty!” I shouted. The children who were crying stopped long enough to stare up at me.

  “Son of a bitch,” Rusty seethed.

  “What happened?” I demanded. “Are you all right?”

  Sounds of scuffing and struggle took hold with Rusty swearing between grunts. My first thought was that Nicho, the possessed boy, had shown up with the stolen shotgun. But Rusty had too big a fight on his hands, and the boy didn’t weigh more than sixty pounds soaking wet. If Rusty was up against something undead, I hoped to hell he was putting his training to use.

  Finally, the sounds of struggle stopped.

  “Rusty?”

  “Yeah,” he panted. “Still here.”

  “What in the hell was all of that?”

  “Son of a gun surprised me with a chest full of shot. Good thing I was suited up.”

  “What surprised you?”

  “What was the kid’s name? Nacho?”

  “You’ve been fighting a ten-year-old this whole time?”

  “Hey, he was out of his mind. Scrapping like a wired dog.” Rusty paused to catch his breath. “Finally managed to cuff him, but it took a dose of chloroform to put him down. Jesu
s, Joseph, and Mary.”

  “If we get out of this, we’re going to need to work on your hand-to-hand skills.”

  “If we get out of this, I’ll be spending the next month at the Bunny Ranch in Vegas.”

  “Get those monitors up,” I ordered.

  The portal rippled, and Takara staggered through. I lunged forward and caught her before she collapsed. The red light was waning from her eyes as smoke drifted from her body.

  “The clown is destroyed,” she murmured.

  I helped her down and then turned to Chepe, but he was already on his feet. Power hummed around him and the bag of wormwood as he chanted in a low, resonant voice. Beyond the portal, bright green and orange spots were breaking out over the Chagrath, while the shaking around us intensified, seeming to rise to another pitch.

  “Let’s get everyone out!” I shouted to Yoofi.

  “No. Chepe says we’re protected in here. Not protected out there.”

  He was probably referring to some sort of magic the shaman had cast over the space. I peered around, not convinced the walls were going to withstand much more shaking. But there were avalanches outside, and we were a good half mile from the tree line. I looked at my watch—bare minutes to midnight—then back at Chepe, who was reaching into the bag of wormwood.

  One way or another, this was going to be over soon.

  “Boss!” came Rusty’s urgent voice. “I restored Drone 1’s feed and was going back over the footage—you’ve got someone coming up!”

  The next sound I heard was a shot. Not from Rusty’s end this time, and not from a shotgun. The explosion had originated from a 9mm revolver. The bullet ripped through Chepe’s side and dropped the shaman. Dried wormwood fluttered from his outstretched hand and fell harmlessly over the cavern floor.

  I turned toward the figure emerging into the light of the cavern. Amid the confusion and my suppressed senses, I hadn’t heard or smelled him.

  “I told you he was a devil!” Salvador Guzman screamed. “I told you he would bring the end upon us!”

  27

  Olaf swung his MP88 toward the preacher.

  “Stop!” I shouted, already bounding toward him. “He’s possessed!”