Nightfall: Caulborn 5

by Nicholas Olivo

  “It does,” Carmilla agreed. “But not how you think.” And with that, she pulled a gun from behind her back and fired.

  I willed time to slow down, slapping at the chronometer on my wrist. I could do like I’d done before, get something in between Galahad and that bullet, and then everything would be fine.

  Except time didn’t slow. A message flashed across the face of the chronometer, but I didn’t read it. Instead, I watched in horror as the bullet flew from Carmilla’s gun and struck Galahad right between the eyes.

  Chapter 20

  Galahad collapsed in a crumpled heap, his sword vanishing before it hit the ground, a pool of blood spreading beneath him.

  No.

  No, that hadn’t just happened.

  No, the boss would’ve done some badass Chuck Norris move where he deflected the bullet with the sword at the last possible second, and then the bullet would ricochet around and kill Carmilla and the other upyr. The boss literally had God on his side. He couldn’t die. He had to fight the demons in the Dodici Prophecy. He had to find a way to stop them from destroying the world.

  And then something he’d said what seemed a lifetime ago went through my mind. “Twelve demons will come to our plane. They stand against the forces of light. And it looks like they win.” Did they win because the prophecy foretold that Galahad would fall? Had he known all along that he wouldn’t be fighting in that battle?

  I was snapped from my reverie as Carmilla holstered the gun and clapped her hands together. “Now that the priest is dealt with, we can finish off the godling.”

  “You will not,” Megan hissed. Tears were streaming down Megan’s face as she staggered to her feet. Her eyes were glowing so brightly that they left afterimages in my vision. She gestured at one of the upyr, the one who’d been on the roof of Thad’s building, and pointing at the other upyr in the room said, “That one is moving against your mistress and means to kill her.” And now I understood why Megan had planted that suggestion. The upyr streaked across the room and tore the throat out of its brethren in a flash. That upyr collapsed to the ground in a pool of gore, but before Megan’s compelled friend could do anything else, Carmilla spoke.

  “Little one,” she said sweetly to Megan. “You are out of your depth. I have allowed you to compel my children because Treggen specifically stated you were not to be harmed, and I am a professional. Had you not attempted to subvert my upyr, I might have offered you a place among us. There is much I could teach you, about a great many things.” Carmilla’s eyes were hungry in more ways than one. “However, do not think that even though you share my gifts, that you can use them more effectively than I can.” Carmilla snapped her fingers, and the upyr staggered back, evidently under Carmilla’s control again. The other one slowly got to its feet, its throat wound closing.

  The strigoi mort seemed surprised when the upyr wheeled around, as if to advance on Carmilla. Carmilla snarled, and the upyr stepped away, then began marching toward Megan. Between Megan’s blood loss and injuries, I knew she wouldn’t be able to hold out for long. But I could tell I wouldn’t heal in time to help her, and even if I did, I was out of faith. There weren’t any reinforcements coming. Jake and Gears were lost. Kristin was dead. The boss was dead.

  But I refused to give up. Kristin and Galahad would want us to finish this once and for all. I shut out the pain and concentrated with everything I had left, willing a portal Open. And just over Carmilla’s shoulder, a portal the diameter of a pencil sizzled into existence.

  Did you know that a rose stem and a number two pencil are roughly the same diameter?

  I pulled one of Panacea’s enchanted roses from my jacket and stabbed it into Carmilla’s neck. She screamed as the magic took hold, and the rose burrowed into her skin. When Megan had been attacked by one of these, it had only taken a few seconds to incapacitate her. Carmilla dropped to the floor, screaming in pain and clutching her chest. Mrs. Rita had told me that when Megan had been attacked, the rose had been seeking an undead heart to strangle it, but since Megan was still alive, the rose didn’t kill her.

  Carmilla was a different story. Black blood seeped from her nose and the corners of her mouth as the rose did its work. The upyr stopped resisting Megan and held Carmilla in place as the strigoi mort thrashed. Thorns burst from beneath her skin, and a vine as thick as my wrist erupted from her chest, Carmilla’s undead heart entangled in it. She collapsed in a puddle of gore. The thorny vines surged into the other upyr next, destroying them as well.

  I turned my head to see Megan in a sitting position, her eyes back to their normal ice blue, tears running down her cheeks.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “Need a few minutes,” I said, grinding my teeth. In truth, it felt like every nerve in my lower body was both on fire and being frozen at the same time. I screwed my eyes shut against the pain and just lay there, panting for who knows how long until finally, it began to subside.

  Megan crawled over to Galahad’s body and sat there, just staring down at him. Once I could feel my legs again, I joined her on the other side. We sat in silence for a minute.

  “—nni—”

  I looked over and saw Billy’s eye lights flickering. “Vinn—” I scrambled over and put my hands on Billy’s chest plate, Opening it. I pulled the lid aside to see not a mangled gremlin body, but a series of wires and servos. A few of the wires had been severed when the spear had passed through Billy’s torso, and I pinched them together with my fingers.

  “Gears?” I asked, “Gears, can you hear me?”

  “Finally,” Gears said. “I lost contact with Billy a few minutes ago. What happened?”

  “Where are you?” I asked.

  “Back in Courage Point. I rigged up a remote control for Billy. It let me put a whole bunch of other tech in there when I didn’t need to factor in a cockpit. So, did we win? Billy’s optic sensors aren’t online yet.”

  I looked at Galahad’s and Jake’s fallen forms. “Get Uncle Dave our coordinates, Gears. Have Ashgate send emergency teams. Hurry.”

  “Vinnie? What’s wrong?”

  “Just do it, Gears,” I said, releasing the wires and severing the connection. I walked over and looked down at Galahad’s body again. I didn’t want to think about this. As I rubbed the tears from my eyes, I caught sight of the message displayed on my chronometer’s face. “Fixed event detected, tachyon manipulation override.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” I demanded of the device.

  “It means, Vincent,” a voice came from behind me, “that Galahad Eleven’s death was an event that needed to happen in order for time to continue on its proper course.”

  I spun on the Tempus, who was stepping from one of his rifts. He must’ve paused time around us, because Megan was frozen in the act of getting to her feet. “You son of a bitch,” I snapped. “I could have saved him. Do you know who that man was? Do you know how important he was to this city?”

  The Tempus nodded. “Galahad Eleven was a good man. But all people have their time. His destiny has been foretold for decades, ever since he took up that sword.”

  “And because you wouldn’t let me save him, he won’t be able to fight against the demons from the Dodici Prophecy. The world goes to Hell, quite literally, in that prophecy, did you know that? Because of you—”

  “Because of me, the time stream stays on its predefined course,” the Tempus reiterated, his voice getting a bit of an edge. “Vincent, I understand you are angry. I understand you are grieving. But you do not understand that prophecy. Have you ever read the Dodici Prophecy in its entirety? If you do, you may interpret things differently.” He sighed and looked down for a moment. “I expect you will be mad at me for some time. So be it. But I will be here when you are ready to talk again.”

  “Take this goddamned thing off my wrist,” I hissed, holding
out the arm with the chronometer attached to it. “I want nothing to do with you.”

  The Tempus merely sighed and then vanished through a rift. A part of me wanted to just tear Open a portal to his citadel and beat the ever-living shit out of him, then figure out a way to time travel and drop him back in the Jurassic era without a means to get home. That sounded good, really good. But as I conjured the extradimensional energy for a portal, I thought about the boss. I thought about Kristin. They’d both been proud of me lately for thinking things through. I wasn’t doing that now. And random acts of destruction weren’t the way to honor their memories. They’d want me to take a breath, to consider the angles, to reason.

  “Fine, guys,” I said to the empty air. “I’ll do it your way. But if I rationally figure that the best thing to do is feed that asshole to a T-Rex, I’m totally doing it.”

  Chapter 21

  Singravel told me of twelve demons that were imprisoned beneath Park Street Church, and a prophecy that was related to them. I’ll do some research on this; twelve infernal allies could be quite useful in what I have planned.

  — From Treggen’s personal journal

  It was two days later. A light rain was falling as we went into the church. Yesterday, the handful of us who remained held a service for Kristin. It had been a small gathering, just us and a few of the paranormals she’d worked with over the years. It hadn’t seemed like enough, like there should’ve been more people there to acknowledge the sacrifice Kristin had made.

  In contrast, the service for Daniel McPherson, known only to us as Galahad XI, had brought out dozens of people, many of whom spoke highly of Father Dan. I heard stories of how he comforted them when loved ones had died; how he had told jokes during the wedding ceremonies he’d performed, and how many of those brides and grooms had gone on to name their children after him. In fact, a bunch of the young teenagers in the assembly were named Daniel or Danielle.

  I heard other stories about how Father Dan played on the church baseball team, where he had a mean slider pitch, and how he’d given insecure players confidence. I heard how he’d encouraged kids who were thinking of dropping out to stay in school, and how those kids then went on to have successful lives.

  I wanted to tell a story of my own, but didn’t. The bulk of the people here were normal humans, and would likely think I was making fun of Father Dan’s memory if I claimed he’d once beaten a horseman of the apocalypse in a swordfight.

  The boss’s remains had been cremated, and his ashes had been given to a nephew I’d never known about. Apparently, the boss wanted his ashes scattered over in Ireland. Gears, riding in the Billy-Mech, sat next to Petra and me. Jake, Megan, Mrs. Rita, Doc, and Leslie were there, too. When the stories were done, there was a lot of hugging and tears. People laughed as they recalled the happy memories, which turned to sobs just as quickly. Then people began drifting out of the church by ones and twos until it was only the Caulborn remaining.

  The Codex approached us. I hadn’t realized she was there. “I want you all to understand just how sorry I am for your loss. Galahad was a wonderful person, and a fantastic leader. I am glad to have known him.” She hesitated, as if uncertain how to proceed. “The Boston Caulborn office will continue to operate. I’ve already put word into Dublin for more agents. They should be arriving in a few days. As for new leadership, Inquisitor Xavier will oversee the office until a suitable field commander can be found. He is finalizing a few details now, and should be here tomorrow.”

  “Do we have a new office yet?” Megan asked.

  “We’ve secured some space down in the Undercity,” the Codex replied. “I’ve had Uncle Dave send the address to your mobiles, report there tomorrow morning at seven. I will stay with you until Xavier and your new agents are installed.” She looked at each of us again. “You have my sincerest and deepest condolences,” she said, then excused herself.

  Jake and Gearstripper left a few minutes later. We ducked into an unused side room, and I gave them a portal back to my house on Olympus. Megan went with them to check on Herb, leaving me, Petra, and Mrs. Rita in the church foyer. We walked over to where Leslie was standing by a photo of Galahad that someone had put up, and it looked like it might have been just before he’d been given the sword.

  “You know,” she said, “I was in love with the original Galahad.” She chuckled. “Well, loved him from afar. He was so good and pure, noble and responsible. He never lied, was honorable—everything a knight of the round table should be.

  “I have personally overseen and guided every person to wield the sword since. It was my way to honor my love, to ensure his legacy was done right. Each time the sword was to be given to another, I was there.” As Leslie spoke, the lines in her face began to fade, her hair gradually changed from silver to blonde, and her glasses faded from around her neck.

  “I was whatever they needed. To Joan of Arc, I was a sort of lady in waiting. To General Washington, I was a seamstress. Always a position that could be close at hand to the blade’s wielder so that I could keep an eye on things. I became Daniel McPherson’s secretary once he was given command of the Boston Caulborn, and used my magic to age myself to look the part. He used to joke that I was trying too hard to look like one of his congregation.”

  She sighed. “Every Galahad has been a wonderful person. Daniel, though… Daniel reminded me the most of my Galahad. Hardworking, dedicated, loyal, and fearless. I will miss him, but someday, when it is my time, I will see him and all the other Galahads in Heaven. For now, though, I must leave.”

  “Leave?” I asked. “Leslie, we need you.”

  She shook her head. “I am bound to the sword, Vincent, not to the Caulborn. That is why I couldn’t go with you into the upyr lair, or on any other mission. I am only here to advise the wielder of the blade, and can’t get caught up in other mortal matters, despite how much I may want to. When another Galahad is chosen, I will need to be there to guide him or her.” The thought of another person being given the title of Galahad made my stomach twist. Sure, I knew it was a title that had been passed down over the centuries, but as far as I was concerned, it was a title that belonged to the boss.

  “Has another already been chosen?” Mrs. Rita asked.

  Leslie nodded. “Yes, but it is not time for her to receive the blade yet. Rita, will you look after these Caulborn?”

  “Daniel would want me to,” Mrs. Rita said. “So of course I will.”

  Leslie smiled, then hugged each of us. “You are wonderful people. And don’t fret; our paths will cross again. Take care.” And with that, she pulled her jacket on and faded from sight.

  Mrs. Rita sighed. “Joseph and I need to procure some medical supplies for the new office, Vincent. We will see you later.” I nodded. Petra took my hand, and we walked out into the rain. We didn’t have a destination in mind; we just walked.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking,” Petra said after a few minutes.

  I shrugged. “I’m torn, Petra,” I said. “When someone dies, the people who are grieving say that the deceased is in a better place, and they try to convince themselves and one another of that, even though they don’t know for sure. Thing is, I do know. I know that there is a Heaven, and I’m damned sure that Galahad Eleven went there.” I gave a mirthless laugh. “In fact, I certainly wouldn’t want to be his God, because the boss is going to want some answers once he gets upstairs.

  “But I’m sad. And it’s a selfish sad. I’m sad because a person that I knew and respected is gone from my life. I’m sad because I won’t have him to guide me or counsel me again when I’m stuck. I’m sad because there’s one less good person in the world.”

  Petra squeezed my hand. “I didn’t know Galahad as well as you did, but when the Caulborn first put me back together, he was the one who coordinated my return into society. He pulled the strings to get me identification papers, and even
offered to help me find jobs.” She giggled. “You should’ve seen him blush when I told him I wanted to be an underwear model. I’d seen them on Gearstripper’s television and thought, hey, I could do that. But he was always respectful and kindly toward me, even though I wasn’t human. That was what made him special; he saw the humanity in the inhumans.

  “It is terrible that he is gone, Vincent. And you’re right; there won’t be anyone else like him. Even if his sword is passed to someone else, that person won’t be the Galahad you knew. The thing is, we need to honor his memory. And it seems to me that the best way to do that is to try and be as good of a person as he was, which may inspire someone else to lead as good of a life.”

  “And that may inspire others, who would in turn inspire more,” I said. “Have I ever told you just how smart you are, Petra?”

  “Every time I beat you at Trivial Pursuit.”

  “That’s totally not fair. You lived through most of the events in the History category.”

  “Just the important ones.”

  We walked on in silence for a few more minutes. The rain gradually faded and slivers of sunlight broke through the clouds. I looked up at the sky and wondered what the boss was doing right now. Maybe he was being reunited with the loved ones he’d lost; or maybe he was giving his God an earful for the crimes the clergy had committed against children; or maybe he was sitting at a big round table with all the other people who’d wielded his sword. I held on to that last image; I could picture the boss at a table like the Defender’s Society had, with high-backed wooden chairs that had Roman numerals indicating which Galahad the seated person had been. I saw the boss, sitting straight-backed, an XI emblazoned above his head, speaking with George Washington and the rest. That was how I wanted to think of him; gone from this world, but still looking out for others in the next. That was exactly what he’d do.