Nightfall: Caulborn 5

by Nicholas Olivo

  “Vinnie,” Gears called from behind me, his voice a little nervous. “The walls are shifting.” A pause. “Hey, the floor’s changing to rock, too. How…” Another pause. The hallway widened, taking on the look of hewn stone. Petroglyphs began forming on the walls. “Wait a minute,” Gears said as we entered what had been the pinball room. “I know this place.”

  The pinball room had changed into a room with a giant computer that dominated the far wall. To my left was a large circular table with chairs featuring the emblems of Golden Age super heroes. Beyond that was a trophy room, featuring oddities such as a petrified dinosaur egg, an axe from a madman who thought himself descended from King Arthur, and a magical ring on an unbreakable silver chain.

  “Everyone,” I said, “welcome to Courage Point.”

  Chapter 13

  “No way,” Gears breathed. “Seriously? Courage Point? The sanctuary of Commander Courageous? The meeting place of the Defenders Society?”

  “The same,” I said with a smile. “The workshop is through there,” I said pointing. “Just like in the comics.” The house had expanded to match Commander Courageous’s secret lair: workshop, garage, laboratory, the works. I’d left the second story of the house intact; a set of stairs off to my right led to the bedrooms where Jake and Mrs. Rita were resting. From the outside, it’d look like a small mountain with a piece of a house at its peak had suddenly sprung up in the yard. Superhero lair and homey Colonial; best of both worlds.

  Gears started to leap out of his mech and then stopped. “Wait. Wait wait wait.” He pointed at the massive computer behind me. “Is that Alexis?”

  “I am Alexis,” the AI responded.

  The squee Gears let out when Alexis spoke could’ve been heard for miles.

  “Alexis,” I said, “contact the Caulborn data network. Grant access to anyone in this room to anywhere in Courage Point that they need. Have medical drones at the ready and fire up the fabrication lab for Gearstripper.” Now, I’m not exactly sure how Alexis links in with outside data networks; in fact, I wasn’t sure if she’d be able to, given that the Caulborn network was technically in another dimension. And yet, barely a moment later, her voice came back with a one-word response.

  “Done.”

  “Alexis, you are beautiful,” I said, turning back to the others. “Galahad, you and the others can plan our counteroffensive here. Gearstripper knows his way around, and Alexis can get you any information from the Caulborn network you need.”

  “Impressive, Vincent,” the boss said. “And thank you for arranging healing for Mrs. Rita last night.”

  “Not a problem, boss.” I glanced around. “Where’s Megan?”

  “Over here,” she called distractedly from the vicinity of the Defender’s Society table. I walked over and found her standing in front of a blackboard. “Something’s been bothering me. Well, actually, a lot of things have been bothering me, but this has been nagging at the back of my head for a while now.” She’d written out MARCILLA in large, block capital letters on the board. Then she started crossing the letters out one by one, reprinting them on a space a little further down the board.

  CARMILLA

  “Carmilla?” I asked. “Like, THE Carmilla? I thought she was just a legend, like Dracula.” If you’ve never heard of Carmilla, it’s a short horror novel that was written in 1872 by an Irishman named Sheridan Le Fanu. It predates Dracula by twenty-six years, and many people believe that Bram Stoker took some of his inspiration from Carmilla.

  “Vincent, with everything you’ve seen and done in the Caulborn, is this really that much of a stretch? Le Fanu died just a year after publishing Carmilla, and it was rumored that he had personal dealings with the supernatural. It’s entirely possible that Carmilla was real, or at least, based off of a real person. Even in the book, Carmilla would go by different names, but always made up from the same letters. Mircalla, for example. The name Marcilla had me thinking it might be an anagram, since it isn’t one that’s native to the area where this clan of upyr is from.”

  “But that sob story she told me after I brought her in,” I said. “Mist said she was telling the truth. And Marcilla didn’t have an illusion, when I looked at her, she appeared totally normal. Human.”

  Megan pursed her lips. “Carmilla was a very powerful vampire, according to the book. She could walk around in the daytime if the sun was weak. Maybe her illusions are that good?”

  I tapped the chalkboard. What Megan was saying was possible, I supposed, but I kept going back to Mist. The fylgiar could literally smell lies, and Kristin had said Marcilla was telling the truth. Then I thought about how Marcilla had commanded Mist to stand by while that other upyr had killed Kristin. Megan had said upyr could compel other paranormal creatures. She must’ve compelled Mist. And, taking that a step further, could Marcilla have compelled Mist to lie to Kristin and tell her that Marcilla’s story was true?

  “I need some answers,” I said. “I think I know where to get them.”

  “Vincent,” Mrs. Rita’s voice was weak. “Can you come here?”

  I shot over to her. The medicine woman was leaning heavily against the wall, and her face was pale and streaked with sweat.

  “What are you doing up?” I asked, guiding her over to a chair. “You should be in bed.”

  “There is too much to do,” she said.

  “If our places were reversed and I said that to you, you’d tell me to get back into bed and then you’d restrain me if necessary.”

  “That is true,” Mrs. Rita replied. “But the situation is not reversed. You are not me. And I have things that must be done. Megan, you and I need to determine right now if your connection to Treggen is still active. If it is, then you cannot be part of any further work or hypothesizing.”

  Megan balled her hands into fists, but her voice was icy. “I am sick and tired of dealing with this,” she said. “I have been sidelined because of injury or illness or some kind of possession all while the rest of you rush around trying to save the world.” She screwed her eyes shut and took a ragged breath, struggling to compose herself. After a moment, her breathing slowed and she opened her eyes again. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Rita, that was uncalled for and unprofessional.” Her voice had calmed, but I could tell it was a forced calm. “I want to help. I want to do my job and keep the world safe.”

  “I know you do, child,” Mrs. Rita said, her voice still weak, but filled with compassion. “This is simply a safety precaution. Come with me, please. You, too, Vincent.” I followed the two of them into the parlor. “Sit down, Megan,” Mrs. Rita said. Megan took a seat in a wooden chair, and Mrs. Rita set a pink crystal down in front of her.

  “Where’d you get that?” I asked. I was pretty sure none of Mrs. Rita’s crystals or talismans had made it through from Boston, and Alexis couldn’t replicate magical artifacts.

  “I was fortunate to have this in my pocket,” Mrs. Rita said. “Many of my other tools have been lost, but this is all I need to see if Treggen’s presence still lingers.” I remembered the crystal now. It was the same one Mrs. Rita had used when she’d initially determined that another presence was tethered to Megan. “Be watchful, Vincent,” Mrs. Rita said as she tapped the crystal and then began a series of elaborate gestures with her hands.

  A moment later, a hazy pink mist fuzzed around Megan. The last time this had happened, the outline of a man had appeared just over her shoulder, complete with the sun tattoo on his neck. I watched and waited. After five seconds, nothing had happened. Ten. Twenty. Still nothing. The mist faded.

  “Nothing,” I said. “No other outlines.”

  Mrs. Rita fixed me with a hard stare. “Nothing at all?”

  “Just a hazy pink mist,” I said.

  Mrs. Rita’s mouth was a thin line. “I see. Well then, Megan, I suggest you find Galahad. I am certain he will welcome your ass
istance.”

  Megan nodded, smiling for the first time I’d seen in a long time. “Thanks, Mrs. Rita,” she said giving the other woman a hug. “I’m going to start strategizing with Galahad.”

  She darted out of the room, leaving Mrs. Rita and me alone. “So, why don’t you look happy about this?” I asked. “If Treggen’s presence isn’t showing up around Megan anymore, that’s good, right?”

  “Perhaps,” Mrs. Rita said, tapping her lips. “But there are other possibilities. It could just be that here on Olympus, Treggen’s influence is not strong enough to reach her. Or it could be that Treggen is no longer bound to Megan. In which case, we should seek to understand why. The last thing we need is more surprises.”

  Chapter 14

  All of my post-transfer tests have been successful. I can still project myself into my clones, and there don’t seem to be any adverse effects so far. I will conduct additional tests over the next few days, but it is looking like I’m finally free of that Caulborn.

  -From Treggen’s personal journal

  I found the boss and Megan at the Defender’s Society table, Megan in Lady Undeath’s seat, Galahad in the Gray Saint’s. I was about to sit down with them when Alexis chirped, “Data has been recovered.”

  “Woo,” Gears called as he skittered over to the massive computer. “Alexis, I love you. Are you seeing anyone?”

  “My programming does not allow for romantic relationships. I am quite married to my work.”

  “Dang,” Gears said. “Okay, well, whattaya got?”

  I joined Gears in front of Alexis’s massive screen as a series of text files appeared. “Looks like an email thread between Treggen and Carmilla’s second-in-command, Vasylna. Makes sense, everyone thought she was calling the shots.”

  “Yeah,” Gears said as he paged down through the file. “Reading this, the upyr were gathering all the information they could on us.” He paged a few more times. “A lot of this is about you, Vinnie.” He paged a few more times. “Wow, most of it is about you.” His clawed finger machine-gunned on the Page Down key for a few seconds. Gears can read and process information way faster than I can, even with my new temporal powers. I opted to let him skim it first and then I’d take a look. “Okay,” he said slowly when he was done. “That wasn’t what I was expecting.”

  “What’s it say?” I asked, starting back at the top of the file.

  “Like I said, it’s mostly about you. There’s a bunch of stuff about your ability to create portals, along with possible ways to nullify that ability with a set of runes. Carmilla was very interested in that. According to this, the runes that Treggen provided her with can block your ability to portal into or out of a warded area.” He gestured at the screen. “There is a bit here about how a being of your capabilities may be able to force open a small portal within the confines of the runes, but that seems to be mostly hypothetical.”

  “How small is small?” I asked.

  Gears frowned. “Seven to twenty-five millimeters,” he said.

  “Great, so I can make portals what, the size of a bottle cap?”

  “Pretty much,” Gears replied. “Thing is, this thread isn’t just limited to your fighting and secondary powers, which is what I thought they’d focus on. There’s some weird theoretical stuff about your nature as a divine being that makes up about eighty or ninety percent of the information.”

  Sure enough, as I skimmed, I saw Gears was right. While there was information on the others, the majority of the file was dedicated to me. It seemed the upyr wanted to know what being a half-deity meant, and they weren’t satisfied with the initial explanation that I could do anything my followers could. There were several back-and-forths where Treggen had supplied intel, and then the upyr had wanted more. The final attachment in the exchange appeared to be a complex dissertation on the nature of how half-gods received their powers and the limitations they might possess.

  I rubbed my chin. “This goes beyond being thorough with your homework,” I said to Megan, who’d come up next to me. “Any idea what they might be looking for here?”

  Megan’s ice blue eyes scanned the screen, her lips pursed. “Honestly, no. The initial information Treggen provided about your powers and how they work looks pretty comprehensive.” She tapped the Page Down key. “This first exchange makes sense, as they’re questioning if you inherit any of the limitations or weaknesses of your followers, but everything beyond that seems like overkill. She has more than enough information at that point to find a way to kill you.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I said.

  Megan shrugged. “Just saying.” She returned her attention to the screen. “And this says I’m off limits in their contract. Treggen wants me alive.”

  “Must be something to do with that connection he has to you.”

  “The connection he had to me,” Megan corrected. “If that’s really gone, like Mrs. Rita thinks, then why would he want me alive?”

  “I think for that, we’ll need to know what the connection was for in the first place,” I said. “And we haven’t been able to figure that out. I’ve got a hunch that it went beyond just spying on the Caulborn.”

  “I think you’re right,” Megan said with a shudder. “But we’ve got a more immediate problem to deal with right now.”

  I nodded. “I’m going to the Athenaeum,” I said, turning to Galahad. “I have a contact there who can validate Megan’s Carmilla theory.”

  Galahad nodded. “Be careful, Vincent. The upyr are still out there. And they are more resourceful than we expected.”

  “I think the big advantage we have going for us, boss, is they believe we’re dead.” I gestured over my shoulder to Alexis’s giant screen, where newsfeeds from Boston were being displayed. A reporter was describing the destruction of the building, which was nothing more than a smoldering pile of rubble.

  “They would have known that I couldn’t create portals out of HQ. They think we’re done. As long as I keep a low profile, I should be all right.”

  “Perhaps, Vincent,” Galahad said, waving to the reporters. “But once the upyr see that no one else was killed in that explosion, they’re going to start hunting us again.”

  “You’re right, boss,” I said. “We need to buy ourselves more time and throw the upyr off guard.”

  Galahad regarded me. “I know that look in your eye, Vincent. What are you thinking?” I told him. “That might work,” he said, rubbing his chin. “How long will you need?”

  “I’m pretty sure Thad’ll have what we need on hand,” I replied. “Give me twenty minutes.” Galahad nodded and wished me well. I stopped at one of the closets upstairs, grabbed a new leather bomber, and then Opened a portal to the back room at Antiquated Treasures. It’s an antique shop run by an old friend of mine who just happens to be one of the most talented artificers in the world. Beanpole thin and well over six feet tall, Thad’s pretty easy to spot even when he’s not wearing his trademark bright pink shirt and penny loafers.

  “Vincent,” he said, throwing his arms around me in a bear hug. “Sweetie, I’ve been trying to call you. When I couldn’t get through, I thought you were a goner. Petra and I have been worried sick.”

  “Is she here?”

  “Vincent?” her voice came from around the corner, and then I was caught up in a second hug.

  “Hey, babe,” I said, hugging her back. After a moment, I said, “Um, love, you’re cracking my ribs.”

  “Oops,” she said, and set me down. I stepped back and got my first good look at her in a few days. Petra’s brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she wore a black Harley Quinn T-shirt over a white thermal undershirt. Blue jeans and black Converse high-tops finished her ensemble. Her dark eyes locked with mine. “What happened, Vincent? I saw on the news that your building exploded, and Thad hadn’t heard from you, and I couldn’t get
ahold of Gearstripper, and I thought maybe…” Tears welled up in her brown eyes as she hugged me close again.

  I patted her back. “It’s a lot harder to get rid of me than that, Petra,” I said. “I’ll fill you in on all the details in just a minute. First, though, Thad, I need you to whip up something special.”

  I described what I wanted. “Ugh, that’s gruesome stuff, Vincent, but I can do it. A necromancer could probably do a cleaner job of it, though.”

  “Sadly, of the two necromancers I know, one’s in a coma and the other’s lost all his powers.”

  “Righty-o, then,” Thad said. “I’ll get to work on this. Do you have hair or nail samples?” I handed Thad a plastic baggie containing a few hairs from all the Caulborn staff who were currently hiding out with me on Olympus, and a couple of Gears’s skin cells. He nodded and then headed over to his worktable.

  I turned back to Petra. “The Caulborn and I are someplace safe. I’ll bring you and Thad back there once this is done.”

  “Can’t Thad do his thing in that place?”

  I shook my head. Mortal magic doesn’t work on Olympus, and none of the gods friendly toward me would be able to do what I needed. There were plenty of others who could, but being indebted to an Olympian is often worse than the situation you started out in. “It won’t take Thad long to do this.”