Blood Royal

by Will McDermott

He looked up at the young Wildcat and suddenly remembered something she had said. ‘Lysanne, right?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes.’ She nodded her head.

  ‘You were closest to the vampire when Valtin showed up, right?’

  She nodded again.

  ‘You said, he pushed the button and the vampire stopped moving.’

  ‘He – your nephew – said something about draining the power cell.’

  ‘So, how did Armand get enough power back to defeat Valtin and carry him off?’

  ‘I don’t know, sir.’

  Kal spun his weapon and thought. Drained the cell. He looked at the drained power maul. ‘Lysanne, this is important. Did you ever see the vampire absorb anything?

  ‘Absorb?’

  ‘You know, suck up – not like blood – power, energy.’

  She nodded her head, excitedly. ‘Yes. Yes. That’s how I killed that flying Spyrer. I shot the vampire and he reflected the blast at her. It was cool!’

  The whole bar went silent. Kal looked up. Vicksen and Jonas were still standing toe-to-toe, but both had stopped shouting at each other.

  ‘You killed Chimone?’ yelled Jonas. ‘Why you little bitch.’

  Vicksen slapped him hard across the face. ‘Your bitch deserved it. She killed several of my girls.’

  Kal jumped out of his chair and rushed between the two leaders. ‘Ladies,’ he said. ‘Both of you are pretty. Now, stow it. We can worry about who killed whom later. I know where Armand has taken Valtin, and I’m sure he’s still alive. But we have to hurry.’

  8: SHAFTED AGAIN

  ‘Might I have a moment of your time, captain?’ asked Obidiah Clein. He stood in the doorway to Katerin’s office, a wan smile on his doughy face.

  Katerin spread his hands apart to indicate the pile of paperwork cluttering his desk. ‘I am quite busy, Clein,’ he said. ‘Can this wait? All these extra meetings in the secure room have put me way behind on requisitions for the month. If I don’t sign them, the royal guard goes hungry. And believe me, you don’t want hungry guards.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’ said Clein. His eyebrows wrinkled in confusion.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Katerin. ‘Old military saying. Hungry soldiers make for angry villagers.’

  ‘Oh. I see.’ But it was obvious to Katerin that the young political officer didn’t see. ‘It is a matter of some importance. I think the men will get by for five minutes without their papers signed.’

  Katerin pushed the pile of papers to the side. ‘Of course, Obidiah. I’m always available for one of our lord’s advisors.’ He actually kept most of the sarcasm out of his voice.

  Clein gave another little half-smile and then slipped inside the door, closing it after him. ‘Can we speak privately?’

  ‘You did close the door,’ commented Katerin.

  ‘I mean,’ said Clein, his smile having disappeared, ‘is this room secure?’

  ‘Ah. Yes. Just one moment.’ Katerin reached under his desk and touched a switch. Before returning his hand to the desk top, he hit a second switch as well. ‘That should do it,’ he said. A bead of perspiration formed on the top of his head. He hated this cloak and dagger stuff.

  Clein pushed the papers back toward the centre of the desk and sat on the edge, forcing Katerin to look up at the short advisor. ‘I have evidence that Hermod Kauderer sent Spyrers into Hive City to murder Lord Helmawr’s son.’

  ‘Is that right?’ asked Katerin. He tried to look innocent, but the bead of sweat on his brow was already snaking its way toward his bushy eyebrows while other beads blossomed up top.

  ‘And further,’ continued Clein. ‘I have reason to believe that you are working with Kauderer in a conspiracy to seize power in the house.’

  ‘I – we, that is – I never intended…’

  ‘Do you deny it?’ asked Clein. He leaned forward, further invading Katerin’s personal space.

  The captain grabbed his handkerchief from the desk and dabbed at the sweat, which was now streaming down his head into his eyebrows and beard. He took a breath before answering. ‘What is your proof?’ he asked.

  There was only the briefest hesitation before Clein answered. ‘That shouldn’t concern you right now,’ he said. ‘What should concern you is how you can get yourself out of this jam.’

  The room fell silent for a long moment. ‘I’m listening,’ Katerin prompted finally.

  ‘If you played an unwitting role,’ said Clein, ‘then you might be saved the embarrassment and dishonour of losing your commission if you were to come clean immediately and help me expose this conspiracy. There’s no telling how deep it runs.’

  Clein leaned back away from Katerin and let the wan little smile cross his face again. The captain was amazed at the transparency of the political officer’s interrogation tactics. After years of bantering with Kauderer, who was a master at eliciting information, these amateur attempts seemed as obvious as if Clein had come in with a cattle prod and a whip.

  Still, he dabbed at the continuing flow of sweat before answering. ‘What would I have to do?’

  Clein slipped off the desk and took a seat on the chair. Katerin knew this was supposed to make him feel like they were equals again, working together to right the horrible wrong. ‘Help me gather evidence, more evidence against Kauderer. Perhaps record your conversations with him.’

  ‘Then we’ll turn the evidence over to Lord Helmawr?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Clein. Again there was the slightest hesitation. ‘We’ll put all the evidence together, yours and mine, and present it to him.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ said Katerin. ‘Recording Kauderer won’t be easy, and could be dangerous. He is a master spy after all.’

  ‘Yes, but he trusts you,’ said Clein. ‘At least as much as he trusts anyone. You’ll be fine.’

  Yes I will, thought Katerin. But I have my fears about you. He let a worried smile cross his face as he got up and shook Clein’s hand. After the little man left, Captain Katerin closed the door and returned to his desk. He wiped his forehead and then heard a panel open behind him.

  ‘You heard everything?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes I did,’ said Kauderer, as he stepped into the office. ‘Very interesting.’

  Katerin looked up at the spy who’d been in his closet. ‘He knows what we’re doing.’

  Kauderer came around the desk and stared at the door. ‘But has no evidence yet.’ He turned to look at the sweating Captain of the Guard. ‘You did well. I honestly thought he had you worried.’

  ‘I was, a little,’ admitted Katerin. ‘At first, but the man is an amateur.’

  ‘Still it is good to worry,’ said Kauderer. ‘We need to act quickly.’

  Now he smiled at the captain, but Katerin could never read the man’s hawkish face, so couldn’t be sure if it was genuine compassion or an act to get his cooperation. At this point, it didn’t really matter.

  Katerin sighed. ‘What do you need me to do?’

  ‘How do you know Valtin’s not dead?’ asked Yolanda. She sat at the bar, still wearing the Spyrer rig. She’d crushed three bottles of House Special in her gloved hand before getting the hang of controlling the rig’s enhanced grip. Good job she hadn’t had to contend with any intimate itches in the meantime, she thought to herself.

  ‘It’s simple, really,’ said Kal. He paced the length of the bar as he explained, pausing at critical junctures for dramatic effect. With Kal it was always fifty per cent substance and fifty per cent performance.

  ‘How many Hivers has Armand killed and drained?’ he asked as he paced. He didn’t wait for an answer. ‘Two dozen, perhaps more now with the Van Saar? And how many has he dragged off? A few to drain in a less public place or to hide away and keep his secret safe.’

  ‘So?’ interjected Jonas. ‘He’s dragged some off, just like he dragged Valtin off.’

  ‘Not exactly just like Valtin,’ said Kal. ‘Every single body he dragged off was already dead, and all were found within several hundred metres of w
here he killed them, drained and left to rot.’

  He paused to let it all sink in, but the group seemed less than impressed by his oration. ‘But where is Valtin’s body?’ He must have carried it out of the dome with him. Why would he continue to carry Valtin’s dead body when he could have easily drained him on the catwalk and left him with the other Van Saar bodies?’

  Again, he was met with blank stares. Even Scabbs looked bored. He sat at the table, tinkering with Valtin’s gadget and absentmindedly picking at the scabs on his arms.

  ‘Quit the theatrics, Kal, and get to the point,’ said Yolanda. She grabbed at her bottle, but accidentally spun a web around it instead.

  Kal threw his hands up into the air in desperation. ‘Armand carried Valtin out of Hive City even though we weren’t chasing after him. He could have easily drained him before leaving, but opted to carry him instead.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Vicksen.

  ‘Aha!’ cried Kal. ‘Exactly. Why would he do that? That is the question we need to ask ourselves…’

  ‘Kal!’ pleaded Yolanda.

  ‘Because Armand’s rig malfunctioned,’ he said. ‘Or, and this is the more interesting notion, Valtin somehow drained its power cell with that gizmo.’ He pointed at the table just as Scabbs pulled two of the pieces apart. ‘Try to fix it, Scabbs, not break it even more. We may need it.’

  ‘Okay, fine,’ said Jonas. ‘Cousin Valtin is alive and well…’

  ‘Until Armand can recharge the rig’s power cell,’ finished Kal.

  ‘So how does that help us find him?’

  ‘It doesn’t,’ said Kal.

  ‘Then why in the Hive are we sitting here listening to you prattle on?’

  ‘Because I do know where he went,’ said Kal. ‘I think Armand has a base of operations in the Underhive. That’s where he’s gone to recharge. That’s where he’s taken Valtin; probably for a snack later on. And that’s where we’ll most likely find the item.’

  ‘Where is it?’ asked Jonas.

  Kal looked at the Spyrer and smiled. ‘As soon as that gadget is working again, I’ll take us all there.’

  ‘Helmawr’s rump!’ exclaimed Dutt. ‘Tell us where he is!’ He slammed his fist down on the window sill. ‘I can’t believe the luck of that bounty hunter. There’s no way he knows we’re listening. I could have gotten the jump on them all.’

  Bobo just sat and smiled. For the moment, Jerico’s luck was his luck. ‘He doesn’t trust the Spyrers any more than he trusts Nemo,’ he said. ‘Looks like it’ll be a rat race all the way to the end, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Gets the blood moving, doesn’t it?’

  The little spy popped another handful of synthnuts into his mouth and stared through the window at The Breath of Fresh Air across the courtyard. With his photo contacts, he could peer into the dimly lit bar well enough to see the bodies moving around the front room. While Dutt sat and fumed about missed opportunities, Bobo enjoyed his synthnuts and waited for Jerico’s uneasy coalition to get on the move.

  Over the next half-hour, Bobo watched Scabbs working at the table. He couldn’t tell what the little half-breed was doing at this distance, but he could hear him muttering and swearing through Nemo’s hidden voxbug. The rest of the crew alternated between silent drinking and heated arguments over such trivial matters as life and death.

  As he watched, Bobo noticed some movement at the other end of the square. He refocused his photo contacts and took a closer look. ‘What in the–?’ He looked again and started to laugh.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ asked Dutt.

  Bobo pointed and continued to laugh. He could hardly breathe, let alone speak, at the moment. Dutt stared at the spot where Bobo pointed with a puzzled expression for a moment and then broke out laughing as well.

  In an alley at the far corner of the square, Derindi attempted to climb a water pipe attached to the building. There must have been decent hand and foot holds down low, but once he got about halfway he kept slipping as he tried to scramble up to the roof. The two spies watched in amazement as the snitch clawed his way up the side of the building.

  ‘Pretty determined, isn’t he?’ asked Dutt.

  ‘I wonder what he’s doing here?’ mused Bobo. He grabbed some more synthnuts and watched the show. The little weasel was far more entertaining than Jerico and his crew at the moment.

  Dutt was oddly silent. Bobo glanced at him. ‘He’s working for Nemo? Why in the world would Nemo use that bumbling idiot?’

  Bobo could see Dutt working through some inner turmoil. Finally, he removed his transmitter tooth and pocketed it. ‘Okay, we’re working together, right? Nemo told him to keep an eye on Jerico, but he was just supposed to be a diversion. We all assumed he’d get caught as soon as he started, which would allow me to work in secrecy. Funny thing is, he’s pretty good at staying hidden.’

  ‘Most snitches are,’ agreed Bobo. ‘At least the ones who live long enough to snitch on anybody.’

  They both turned to watch Derindi again. He had gotten one hand on the lip of the roof, but had lost his footing and was just hanging there by his fingers while his legs flailed and kicked at the building.

  ‘Now you owe me something,’ said Dutt. ‘I shared with you, you need to reciprocate.’

  Bobo thought about it. ‘Hmm,’ he said. ‘That was pretty trivial, but okay. I’ll give you a nugget. Of course, you’re going to owe me back after this one.’

  ‘I’ll be the judge of that,’ said Dutt. He chuckled and pointed at Derindi. The snitch had both hands on the edge of the roof and had just slammed his forehead against the wall.

  ‘Nemo’s man inside House Helmawr is not what he appears.’

  Bobo let the statement sit there in the silence that filled the room. It was a fishing expedition, pure and simple, but he didn’t want to push too hard. Dutt was good, and if he tried to set the bait too soon, he’d lose him for sure. He’d wiggle it in front of him again later. He knew Nemo must have a man on the inside. Finding out who would not just mean a promotion, it might just answer some of the nagging questions he had about this whole mission.

  Instead, he stared intently at Derindi, who had gotten one leg over the edge and finally pulled himself onto the roof. At that moment, the two spies heard Scabbs say, ‘I got it!’ In less than a minute, the gang of nine emerged from the Fresh Air, with Wotan the metal dog nipping at the Spyrer legs as they strode across the courtyard.

  ‘Looks like we’re on the move again,’ said Bobo.

  He glanced one last time at Derindi, zooming his contacts in to see the weasel’s face. Along with his other talents, Bobo was a pretty good lip reader. Derindi, seeing Kal and company crossing the square, swore profusely and then headed toward the water pipe to climb down again. Bobo just laughed.

  Valtin sat with his back up against the pipes. His head had cleared a little and Armand had been kind enough to prop him up, so now he could see more of his surroundings. He suspected that the only reason Armand had moved him was to keep an eye on his hostage.

  Valtin sat on what appeared to be a service lift in an enormous utility access shaft. Pipes of all sizes lined the walls of the shaft, disappearing into the darkness above him and past the mesh floor below. He could just barely see the far side of the shaft in the dim light of the work lamps, which he could now tell were wired to the railings of the lift platform.

  His ankles were bound tight with copper wire which dug into his skin every time he moved. His wrists were bound behind his back, and from the pain he felt, Valtin was sure Armand had used copper wire for that task as well.

  The lift sat just outside an alcove or access tunnel. The back of the tunnel was pitch black, so he couldn’t tell if it ended or not. Armand paced back and forth near the mouth of the passage, which he had lit with a few extra work lamps. At first, Valtin wasn’t sure what the elder Helmawr was doing, but then he saw Armand holding part of his rig.

  Tubes ran off the top and flopped around on the ground as Armand twisted it back and
forth, as if looking for something. He finally found what he needed, and then grabbed a tool from a box at his feet. He worked the tool for several minutes and then dropped it back in the box and set the hunk of rig aside.

  He came toward Valtin carrying a thick, grey disc about the size of a dinner plate. Valtin immediately recognised the object. It was the power cell for Armand’s rig that he’d drained during the battle. Valtin pulled his knees up, hoping to get a chance to kick the cell out of Armand’s hands, but his uncle never got that close.

  He stopped at the edge of the lift, next to one of the work lamps. Casually, with the calm air that only the truly crazy attain, Armand yanked the lamp from its housing and tossed it over the edge of the lift, leaving nothing but bare wires. Valtin counted the time it took before the lamp hit bottom, but while he heard it bang against the walls, the clattering simply continued to grow fainter and fainter until he simply couldn’t hear it anymore. It was a long way to the bottom.

  Valtin looked back at Armand. It was hard to tell what he was doing now because of the missing light, but it seemed like he was trying to connect the live wires to the power cell. Valtin could see power jumping from the ends of the wires to Armand’s fingertips, but there was no recognition of pain on his face. Once he finished hotwiring his power cell, Armand set it down on the handrail and turned to go back into the access tunnel.

  They hadn’t talked since Armand’s manic rant about the tainted Helmawr blood. Valtin wondered if he could get any useful information out of his crazed uncle. He cleared his throat and said, ‘Um.’

  Armand twirled around and stared at Valtin, his eyes wide open in an honest look of surprise, as if he had no idea anyone else was there with him in the shaft. ‘Nephew!’ he said. ‘Good to see you again. Don’t worry. Supper won’t be long now.’ He then turned and disappeared into the darkness at the back of the passage.

  Hermod Kauderer sat at his desk trying to determine the best course of action against Obidiah Clein. The hawkish Kauderer kept a spartan and tidy office. He had no personal effects, no books or bookcases, no files or filing cabinets; not even any desk drawers. He kept everything he needed in plain sight, and placed in positions precise to within a millimetre at all times. It would be next to impossible to hide anything in Kauderer’s office that he could not spot at once and remove.