Nightfall: Caulborn 5

by Nicholas Olivo

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Continue reading for an excerpt from Torment

  Chapter 1

  Author’s Note

  Also by Nicholas Olivo

  Nightfall

  Copyright © 2016 by Nicholas Olivo All rights reserved.

  First Edition: December 2016

  www.nicholasolivo.com

  Editing by: Holloway House Editing and Proofreading

  hollowayhouse.me

  Cover and Formatting by: Streetlight Graphics

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  Chapter 1

  If someone tells you they hear voices, chances are you’ll smile politely, slowly back away from them, and make for the nearest exit as quickly as possible. Even in the circles I run in, people who hear voices in their heads are unstable, or potentially dangerous to be around.

  Unless you’re me. I hear voices in my head all the time, but they aren’t the imaginary kind. When I hear voices, it’s because someone’s praying to me. My name is Vincent Corinthos, and I am literally a god. Until recently, I had two groups of fae worshippers, but after an event of Crisis on Infinite Earths-level proportions, only one small clan of kobolds still worships me. And typically, they pray to me through drinking songs. The prayer I was hearing now, though, was unlike any I’d ever heard before.

  Vincent Corinthos, I open these locks in your name.

  It was spoken softly by a female voice, and was accompanied by what I can only describe as a small tag, like the kind you’d get on a birthday present. Something like “To Vincent, From Jeal,” where Jeal was the kobold praying to me. The tag was a near-tangible thing in my mind, and I reached out, figuratively speaking, and tugged on it. Immediately, a vision came into my mind, showing me a pair of three-fingered hands covered in scales, working a lock with a set of picks. It was like I was riding along in the kobold’s mind, seeing through her eyes.

  The lock she was raking looked like something you’d see binding chains around Harry Houdini just before he was sealed in a coffin and then submerged in water. Without really understanding how, I blessed Jeal and increased her skills at lock picking. Like I’d temporarily made her more competent at the task. The lock opened with a click, and I felt her faith in me surge.

  Through her eyes, I looked around the room she’d just gained access to. The only light came from the hallway outside, revealing shapes inside but no details. Green lines rippled across my sight as Jeal activated her night vision. Details of the room sprang into view, and it was not a pretty sight. At least half a dozen people, men, women, and a handful of humanoid creatures I couldn’t readily identify, were chained to the walls. The smell of urine and feces hung heavily in the air, and I felt Jeal’s nose wrinkle in disgust. She forced down her revulsion and moved to the closest person, a human woman who looked like she was in her mid-forties.

  The woman’s hair was a tangled mess, and her clothes, once likely a pantsuit that you’d see a middle manager wear, were covered in filth and waste. Her shoes were gone, and her ankle was manacled to the wall. It was her eyes that threw me, though. They had the look of someone in complete and utter shock; borderline catatonic. She was aware of Jeal’s presence, but she gave no real reaction to the kobold’s appearance. Sure, it was dim, but there was enough light in there that at that range, the woman would’ve been able to make out Jeal’s form, which looked nothing like that of a human’s.

  Kobolds are maybe three feet tall and look like miniature T-Rexes that have been Disneyfied. They have lines of horns running down their snouts, their fingers end in bony claws, and they’re covered in scales. In short, most people have never seen anything like them before, and the fact that this woman didn’t react at all meant something was very, very wrong with her. Either she was a member of the paranormal community who’d seen it all, which I found unlikely, or…

  Jeal brushed the hair from the woman’s face, revealing two puncture marks on her neck.

  Or, the woman was being kept as vampire cattle.

  Okay, fun bit of information about being a vampire’s cow: after you’ve been fed on six or seven times, the toxins in the vampire’s saliva start to impact your neurological functions. The fight or flight reflex gets worn away, leaving behind a person who, well, isn’t exactly content to sit there and be fed on, but accepts it as part of life. People can recover from this state, but it’s a long and slow process.

  I couldn’t see much beyond what Jeal was looking at, but by focusing on her peripheral vision, I saw that the man just a few feet away had a similar expression to the woman’s. What the hell was Jeal doing? Where was she? Part of me wanted to speak to her telepathically, via the god-to-worshipper connection she’d initiated, but I could feel how focused and how on edge she was. Breaking her concentration seemed like a bad idea, so I decided to just watch for the time being.

  Jeal moved from person to person, unlocking their manacles. Her picks worked quickly, my earlier blessing still giving her a skill boost. It wasn’t until she got to a man in a much cleaner T-shirt and jeans that her routine was interrupted. “Who are you?” he whispered. His voice was slurred, but his eyes were mostly clear. He must not have been here as long as the others.

  “I am Jeal of clan Dreggo, Prime Liberator of the church of Corinthos,” she whispered, her voice a high-pitched rasp. “I have come to free you.”

  Prime Liberator? Now, I’ve had high priests before, but they mainly preached, or oversaw the well-being of the people. What the heck was a Prime Liberator? Before I could consider that further, another of Jeal’s thought-prayers came through to me.

  Grant that I may get these people to safety, Vincent Corinthos.

  I blessed her a second time, again, not quite sure what I was doing. In the past, when the Urisk had prayed to me, they usually just wanted assurance that I would protect them, or blessings of health and peace. Essentially, all they’d ever wanted was the prayer equivalent of a hug and someone telling them everything was going to be all right.

  Jeal here, though, wanted something else entirely, and I wasn’t quite sure how to handle that.

  She managed to get all the people to their feet and then produced a bundle of paracord from her pocket and ran it through belt loops, or holes in the people’s clothing, connecting everyone in a long line. Satisfied, she gave a quick nod and then led the lot of them from the room.

  Here’s the thing about vampire cattle. They’re kept by vampires. And vamps don’t typically leave their larders unguarded. And this place was no excep
tion, as a suave-looking undead stepped from the shadows and straight into Jeal’s path. In an eye blink, Jeal produced what looked like a flashlight from her pocket and shined it directly in the vamp’s face. The light had a purple tint to it, and as the vampire’s skin smoldered, I realized Jeal was packing a UV light. Not as good as sunlight, but enough to cause the vamp to cry out in pain and temporarily blind it. Jeal threw her arm forward, and a bolt of fire shot from her fingers, setting the vamp’s head ablaze. Kobolds can turn invisible, sling fire, and turn into small dragons. Jeal was pulling out all the stops as she assumed her dragon form and ripped the vampire’s throat out with her teeth.

  She shifted back, barely missing a beat as she grabbed up the cord again and began tugging the people down the hallway. The walls were bare concrete and there were no lights on. So was Jeal in a sub-basement of one of the vampire lairs? I rubbed my chin. That couldn’t be right. The Caulborn, the secret paranormal agency I work for, has a pact with the local vampire clans; they agree to only feed on willing humans and get the rest of their blood needs from non-sentient sources: pigs, cows, and stuff they can procure from blood banks. Keeping living human snacks is a definite no-no.

  Now, I’m not heavily involved in vampire politics, but I did know that Tom Bruli and Madeline Adasten, the heads of Boston’s two vampire clans, knew better than to pull something like this. Then I remembered Megan telling me that a clan of upyr had moved into the city recently. Maybe this was their buffet that Jeal was liberating?

  Lights snapped on, dazzling Jeal’s night vision. She dismissed it, and when the purple and blue afterimages faded from her eyes, three vampires were standing before her. Each was dressed in a black suit and tie, making them look like the undead Men In Black.

  “You are causing us quite some trouble, little one,” one of them said in a voice tinged with an Eastern European accent. “I think it is time for you to be done.” I felt the waves of compulsion slam against Jeal’s mind. Jeal staggered back against the first woman in line, and dropped the cord. She pressed her hands to her head as she tried to resist, but another compulsory wave slammed into her, and her knees buckled.

  Enough was enough. I didn’t understand why Jeal was there, I didn’t know who these jokers were, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to stand by and watch one of my followers turn into a snack for the undead.

  Jeal’s eyes were narrowed, and her vision blurred as she struggled against the compulsion, but I could still see through her eyes well enough to create a portal to her location. A heartbeat later, an oval of green extradimensional energy sizzled into existence, and I stepped from my apartment into the basement.

  There was a near-comical moment when the vampires blinked at me. There was another pause as I threw out my arm, intending to slam all of them into the wall with waves of telekinetic force. As I reached out to the place where my Urisk faith reserves had once been, all I found was a cold, dead spot in the center of my chest. The Urisk didn’t worship me anymore. I’d been blocking that out, and as a result, had forgotten I didn’t have telekinesis anymore. I cursed myself for losing the element of surprise as one of the vamps raised a hand to his ear. “Corinthos is here, repeat, Corinthos—” A quick blast of kobold elemental fire blew his ear off, and then I Opened a gateway to the Undercity PD. “Get them through,” I called to Jeal. The little kobold just stared at me. “Jeal,” I snapped. “Go, now!” She gave herself a shake, grabbed the cord, and pulled the prisoners through. I tapped a bit of the kobolds’ faith and shined holy light all around me, bathing the area in purple luminescence.

  The vamps shied away from the light, and I ducked through the portal to join the others. As it sizzled closed behind me, I saw Lt. Thomas Chadwick walking down the stairs to the street. “Agent Corinthos,” he said. “What’s going on?” I’d met the lieutenant earlier this week during the aftermath of the Ashgate situation. Dressed in a long tan trench coat and rumpled pants, he reminded me a bit of Columbo.

  “Got some normal folk here who’ve been kept as vampire snacks,” I said. “I’ll get you a full report in a bit, but for now, can you see to their well-being?”

  “Of course.” He called to a couple of uniformed officers, and they began gently leading the people into the station. Kristin had commented recently that the UPD was only good at breaking up fights among the Undercity’s citizens, but we both knew that they also helped return regular people who’d stumbled into the supernatural world back to “normal” Boston. A few memory modifications, a few words with employers, and everything would get smoothed over. They were the experts at that, and I left them to it.

  Right now, I needed to talk to my “Prime Liberator.” I placed a hand on Jeal’s shoulder and portaled us to the roof of Caulborn HQ. There were two camp chairs and a small telescope set up on the roof. Mrs. Rita often came up here to consult the stars, and sometimes, Megan or Kristin or I kept her company. I gestured for Jeal to take a seat, and I sat down across from her. I snapped an elemental fire between us, taking the edge off of Boston’s wintry chill.

  “So,” I said after a minute. “What was going on there tonight, Jeal?”

  “Those vampires had stolen people off the street to keep as food. I followed them to an abandoned apartment building and snuck past their sentries to free them.”

  “I understand that,” I said. “What I was asking about was why you were doing it?”

  “I was doing your will, Lord Corinthos,” she replied. When I didn’t respond right away, she continued. “You freed us from the redcaps. You broke our bonds. You liberated us from certain death at risk to yourself. I was there; I watched it happen. I was the one who healed Kleep after he fought the redcap who was beating you.”

  “I remember,” I said.

  “You saved us,” Jeal said. “You freed a people because they needed freeing. You did this without expectation of reward, for we had nothing to give you, and you did not ask us to worship you. You did not bargain with us, or hold us in your debt. You simply saved us. We have never asked why, but it is my belief, a belief that is shared by my brothers and sisters, that you did it because it was the right thing to do.”

  That was pretty much it. The redcaps had imprisoned the kobolds and were tormenting them. Even though I’d been in the middle of trying to rescue Megan from her kidnappers, I couldn’t ignore the kobolds’ situation. Jeal was right; I’d saved them because that was the right thing to do.

  “You were inspirational to my people, Lord Corinthos,” Jeal continued. “Kleep serves you as a priest, leading us in prayers, extolling your virtues. I wanted a more active role. I wanted to exemplify that which I found most admirable about you. So Kleep and I created the role of Prime Liberator. It is my solemn duty and privilege to free captives in Boston, so that they might return to a normal life and prosper, as we have.”

  She tilted her head to the side when I didn’t respond right away. “You do not approve?”

  “I completely approve,” I said. “And I commend you for your bravery tonight.”

  “Yet I have failed you.”

  I blinked. “How so?”

  “You felt the need to rescue me. If I had truly been worthy, I would have been able to do this task on my own.” Her jaw set and her yellow eyes locked with mine. “I will do better, Vincent Corinthos.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say to this, but Commander Courageous had always told me to act like I knew what I was doing when dealing with my followers, so I said, “Jeal, from what I saw tonight, you are resourceful and capable. I have every confidence that you will make Prime Liberator a title coveted by all kobolds.” I held up a hand. “That said, you need to be careful.”

  When I spoke with the Urisk, I’d tried to sound formal, regal. The kobolds pray to me through drinking songs, and they view games like Magic: The Gathering and Dungeons & Dragons as sacraments. Speaking regally wasn’t the way to go, so I w
ent with the first thing that came to mind. “Have you played Curse of Strahd yet?” I figured a D&D module dedicated to vampires was probably the best analogy I could come up with here. Jeal nodded. “Imagine you’re a level one rogue who just arrived in Ravenloft. You’ve got a dagger that deals 1d4 points of damage and a set of mundane thieves’ tools, and the first thing you do is go after Strahd himself, a vampire with a variety of spells and dark artifacts at his disposal. How well would that end?”

  Jeal dropped her eyes. “Not well.”

  “Don’t misunderstand me, Jeal,” I said. “I’m not criticizing you. What you did tonight was incredibly brave, and my coming to your aid wasn’t because you weren’t worthy, it was because you were outnumbered and outgunned. I’m never going to abandon my followers in a situation like that.”

  Jeal looked up at me. “I am not a failure?”

  “Not by a long shot,” I said with a smile. “Now, do me a favor and picture the location where you rescued those people.” Jeal complied, and I got an image of an abandoned apartment building on the South Side. Hmm. No other vamp presences from what Jeal had seen; the place was literally just a larder. That seemed off; vamps typically keep their food near their base of operations.

  “Come on,” I said to Jeal, “let’s get you home. I think you’ve earned the rest of the night off.” She nodded, and I portaled her back to Cather’s place. The dragon himself wasn’t home, so I gave a few blessings to my followers and then checked my watch. I needed to talk to someone about what had just happened. Petra wouldn’t be home for another few hours yet and, not for the first time, I wished that Commander Courageous was still around. Well, the Commander was out, but Galahad could probably help me.

  I went back to HQ and found the boss getting a cup of coffee from the kitchen. The hollows under his eyes were more pronounced than ever, but the former priest looked sharp and alert. He took one look at me and said, “You have the look of someone with a problem, Vincent. What’s on your mind?”