Never Just One Apocalypse

by Karen L Mead

  Dwight raised an eyebrow at that, but knew full well he didn’t want to know the details. “Even so, are you sure you’re good here? You can take off today, easy. Khalil and I can hold down the fort.”

  “Isn’t Khalil quitting?”

  “Who knows? He’s here today, though.”

  Sam began scrubbing a pastry plate with great gusto.

  “Honestly, there’s nowhere I’d rather be than here right now. Doing stuff like this always seems to straighten my head out.”

  “Okay,” said Dwight, watching Sam’s hands in the sink. His hands were moving preternaturally fast, and Dwight wasn’t sure if Sam was even aware of it. He decided not to point it out.

  One day, he’s not going to be able to stay here anymore. I don’t know where he’s going to have to go, or why, but someday, playing the part of a minimum-wage slave just isn’t going to cut it anymore. Until that day though, this is probably for the best….

  Just when he was about to return to work, someone he didn’t recognize busted into the break room. It was a tall, attractive woman with blond hair, dressed impeccably in a business suit. More importantly, she was cradling a gangly teenager in her arms.

  “Mike!” Sam yelled, throwing down the sponge and grabbing the boy from the strange woman’s arms. “What happened?”

  The woman, who had been putting on a brave face, seemed to crumble at Sam’s question. “I’m so sorry! I’ve never taken too much from a gift, never, but I don’t know what came over me! I’m afraid it’s too late.”

  Her crime confessed, she collapsed to the floor, weeping.

  Sam put Mike down on the couch and began examining him. Dwight put his hand on the boy’s forehead; it felt cold.

  “If he’s lost a lot of blood, then he needs a transfusion. We need to get him to the hospital right now.”

  The woman shook her head, clearly miserable.

  “We already tried; we have a doctor on call, just for this kind of emergency. But his body—rejected…” She collapsed again into sobbing.

  “Stop crying!” Sam yelled. “After we’ve saved him, then you can cry all you want, but I need information now! Is there anything we can do for him?”

  The vampire made an effort to collect herself, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “He’s fading…I brought him to you as fast as I could so that one of your vampires could change him. That is the only way.”

  “No,” Sam said, looking at the pale boy on the couch. “I can’t believe that’s the only thing we can do.”

  While Sam had been talking to the vampire, Khalil had come into the break room. He examined Mike, only with more expertise than Sam had done.

  “He barely has a pulse, guys,” he said quietly. “You’d better get one of the vamps in here.”

  “I’ve already summoned Dmitri!” Sam snapped. “He’s the closest.”

  “Alright, excuse me for not being privy to your whole psychic network!” Khalil yelled, but it was clear that wasn’t what he was really upset about.

  Dwight hadn’t been appraised of the plan to lend Mike to the Liddells for a few days, but it was easy enough to figure out the gist of what had happened. He was shocked, trying to process the idea of the annoying kid who always hung out at his shop, drinking gallons of hot chocolate and typing away on his computer, becoming a vampire. Then, out of nowhere he remembered something, and pushed past Khalil so fast he almost knocked the other man over.

  He began rummaging through drawers in his office, his pulse pounding.

  While Dwight was occupied, Dmitri entered the break room. He eyed the unconscious teen on the couch.

  “I see I’m just in time. Should I begin?” he asked, looking to Sam.

  “You….” Sam began, then trailed off. It was clear that he believed the only hope for Mike at this point was as a vampire, but he couldn’t bring himself to give the order to change him.

  “There isn’t much time left,” Dmitri said gently.

  Dwight ran back into the room, holding something shiny in his right hand. Sam nearly jumped.

  “Is that a healing potion?”

  “Yes! Serenus gave it to me two[GW7] months ago, just in case we ever needed it here.” He handed the potion off to Sam as quickly as he could.

  “Bless that busybody professor,” Sam muttered, opening the top of the vial. He began to pour it into Mike’s open mouth. Dwight tried not to look at the two painful-looking puncture wounds on Mike’s neck.

  “He’s not conscious, though, so he can’t swallow it. Will it still work?”

  “I think if some gets down his throat, that should be enough,” said Dmitri quietly. “Not that I am expert, but I have seen these things used before.”

  After Sam had emptied a third of the potion into Mike’s mouth, the boy’s body began to jerk violently. He coughed up the potion, then fell back against the couch, shuddering slightly.

  Sam cursed. “Dammit, why won’t it work?”

  “He is not compatible,” said the blond vampire, who had been all but forgotten halfway across the room. “Those potions are made for demons. They will work on most humans, but…his blood…it is a special blood.”

  “DAMMIT!” Sam yelled, throwing the potion vial across the room. It shattered against the employee lockers.

  Khalil ran his hands through his black hair nervously.

  “Sam, do your reversal thing. Reverse time or whatever so this never happened!”

  Sam swallowed.

  “I can’t do that.”

  “What do you mean, you can’t? I’ve seen you do it!”

  Sam grit his teeth in frustration.

  “Not now, I can’t.”

  “The hell does that mean?”

  Sam just shook his head.

  Dmitri knelt next to Sam and put an arm on his shoulder.

  “Allow me to change him, now. He won’t be alive for much longer.”

  Sam exhaled. It sounded painful, like his throat was sore. He put his head in his hands.

  “Do it.”

  Chapter 37

  When Cassie came to, her midsection was hurting her. Sammael, partially back to human form, had her slung over his shoulder, and was walking down a long flight of steps; every step sent his shoulder blade digging into Cassie’s ribs.

  “Ow! Put me down, that hurts!” she cried out.

  She had a limited view of Sammael, but she could tell he was in a strange state; one minute, she was looking down at his human body, then her vision would shimmer and the odd-shaped limbs and torso of his other form would appear, only under his clothes.

  “Put you down, so you can turn all of Realm into a bleepin’ Sea World? I’m never giving you that chance again.”

  “I didn’t do it on purpose,” Cassie wheezed. With so much pressure on her chest and stomach, it was hard to talk.

  After what seemed like hours, they reached the bottom of the staircase. Cassie tried to squirm around to get a better look at her surroundings, but it was all very dark. She could see torches on the wall, but they didn’t seem to throw much light—probably by design.

  “Are we in a dungeon?”

  “Damn straight we are. And you’re not leaving for a while. Maybe never. You’re a walking calamity of Biblical proportions, you whiny little brat.”

  Cassie heard the sound of a heavy metal door open; it was painful to hear, not unlike nails on a chalkboard. It was like the sound of hundreds of years of rust complaining.

  Then she was airborne; Sammael had actually thrown her into a cell of the dungeon. For a fraction of a second, she was terrified that she was going to break her back upon landing and become paralyzed (or worse), but something cushioned her fall; it felt a little bit like landing on an air mattress. She still had the wind knocked out of her, but it didn’t really hurt much.

  That must have been my barrier…wait, I don’t have it anymore? I think I lost the barrier when I lost consciousness. So what just broke my fall?

  She turned around, but there was nothing behind her; j
ust dirt, dust, and suspiciously shiny rocks. In fact, there seemed to be a huge pile of rocks just few feet behind her, but it was too dark for her to see what exactly what kind they were.

  Sammael put his hands in the doorframe and looked down, panting. To Cassie’s surprise, he looked exhausted; this was the first time she’d ever seen him in such a state. After taking a few heavy breaths, he looked up and glared at her. She was pretty used to him fixing her with a mean look, but there was something different this time. His eyes were glowing white-blue instead of red, which was unusual enough, but something more mundane in his face caused her stomach to drop. There was no humor, no droll condescension, in that look. He wasn’t amused, not even a little bit.

  “Stay here until I decide what to do with you. Don’t do anything.”

  Then he slammed the door and went away. The fact that his last words to her were so straightforward, without the slightest hint of his usual snark, added to the feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach.

  For a few moments she just sat there, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. Even when she was acclimated to the level of light in the dungeon, she still couldn’t see much. She could tell there were more cells like the one she was in, and a hallway disappeared into the darkness. Without being able to see more of the hallway, she had no way of knowing how big the dungeon was.

  He’s really serious. He might leave me here forever if he decides it’s the safest thing to do. Will he even feed me, or….

  She gasped for air, suddenly feeling out of breath. Her pulse hammering in her ears, she tried to take deep breaths, but she couldn’t seem to do it. Instead she took quick, shallow breaths, which only made her feel worse. Soon her chest was burning and her eyes were watering.

  To her shock, someone came forward and put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

  “Easy now. Physically, you’re fine. You’re just having a panic attack. Just do your best to breathe, and it will go away eventually.”

  Cassie wanted to look to her right and see who was there, but she was afraid to move her head; it felt safer just looking at the ground between her feet. With effort, she forced herself to take deep breaths, even though her impulse was to hyperventilate.

  Who’s in here with me? I know that voice…but from where?

  Cassie didn’t know how long she spent recovering; perhaps five minutes, perhaps half an hour. At some point, the fight-or-flight response wore off, and she felt more or less normal. The air in the dungeon smelled funny, filled with something Cassie couldn’t identify, but it became easier to breathe regardless.

  “Good girl. It’s not easy to calm yourself down once that happens. You did very well.”

  The voice was deep, with a noticeable British accent. At first Cassie refused to believe who it was, couldn’t believe he would be here, but once she was finally able to look at her companion, there was no doubt.

  “Dr. Cordley? What are you doing here?”

  The doctor sat back from her and rested one arm on his knee.

  “I see you remember me.”

  Cassie changed position too, so she was facing him.

  “How could I forget? You were the first demon to ever kidnap me. We should have given you an Early Bird Discount or something.”

  He laughed at that. His voice sounded hoarse, and Cassie wondered how long he’d been stuck in Sammael’s dungeon.

  “Not one of my brighter moments. My niece was dying, or so I thought, and I completely lost my head. She’s in remission now.”

  “She is? Congratulations, that’s wonderful!” Cassie said. It was awkward, congratulating him on the health of his family while sitting on the floor of a dungeon, but she felt it was important to say it regardless.

  He laughed again, softly.

  “You really don’t hold a grudge against me for what I did, do you?”

  Cassie had to raise an eyebrow at that.

  “Not really. You’re really the only person who ever tried to kidnap me who had a really good reason.”

  He laughed again, shaking his head like the whole idea of her repeated kidnappings was amusing. She supposed it was, when viewed from the outside.

  She shifted position, getting more comfortable. Even if she was stuck in the dungeon, that was no reason to get a leg cramp.

  “Listen, what are you doing here? What do you have to do with Sammael?”

  Cordley sniffed and looked off to the side.

  “What else? I summoned him, made my demands, and offered my soul as payment. He took me up on it.”

  “What?” Cassie exclaimed, mind working feverishly. At first she thought that Cordley must have sold his soul in exchange for his niece’s health, but that wouldn’t work; even powerful demons couldn’t heal people, only curse them. Beyond that, she couldn’t imagine what he would consider worth selling his soul for.

  He shrugged noncommittally.

  “I’m not the most popular fellow at the Eastern Court these days. I had to get out of there somehow, and they weren’t about to let me get on a plane and fly to Hawaii. If I could get transport for a certain magical artifact, so much the better.”

  “What magical artifact?”

  Cordley continued like he hadn’t heard the question. “Joke was on me, because my second request was a bust. Sammael couldn’t have transported the Rod of Moses with me even if he wanted to; demons can’t even touch it.” He smiled sheepishly. “He neglected to mention that until after I had already made the deal with him, however.”

  “Yeah, that figures,” Cassie mused. “Wait, so…this artifact, the Rod of Moses. Were you trying to smuggle it out of Europe?”

  “Basically. The current leadership of the Eastern Court has lost their collective mind; I couldn’t trust them with it anymore.”

  “So if it’s still there, isn’t that really bad?”

  Cassie had never heard of the Rod of Moses, but just from the name, it was obvious that it was important. You didn’t name something after one of the greatest prophets to have ever lived if it wasn’t powerful.

  “It’s not there anymore. I’ve made…other arrangements.”

  He chuckled, like he couldn’t help himself.

  “What arrangements?”

  “Let’s just say your entourage should be receiving a special delivery very soon. Any day now.”

  Cassie tried to put her own situation aside and think about the big picture. If Cordley had betrayed the Eastern Court and given away their trump card, that was probably a good thing; there was less of a chance they would attack. Maybe the Rod of Moses would be of some use against the Watchers too, although she doubted that highly.

  “I know this may be hard to believe, but we have bigger problems than the Eastern Court,” Cassie began. Maybe it was crazy to confide in Cordley, but she needed to talk to someone, and now, they weren’t just former enemies; they were dungeon-mates. “It’s the Watchers, the Rebel Angels. They want to attack the whole world, and they’re going to use me to do it.”

  The doctor took a moment to process that information. He shook his head sadly.

  “Idiots, the lot of them. Both courts, plotting against each other for centuries, when they should have been putting up a united front in case something like this ever happened. I should have guessed that now would be the time we needed each other the most, for maximum irony.”

  “I don’t know if it matters. I don’t know if you could fight them, even all of you together. They’re…not like us.”

  “How are they going to do it? Will they compel you to summon them, somehow?” Cordley asked. Even in the dim light, she could see he looked animated, excited even. He wasn’t happy to hear about the Watchers, but the intellectual in him couldn’t help but be curious. In that moment, he reminded her a lot of Serenus, and remembering the professor made her feel a twinge of homesickness.

  “That’s the worst part, I don’t know,” said Cassie, shrugging. She pulled her knees into her chest and hugged her legs. “I know they need me to change, somehow. Like I’
m not good enough yet, but when I level up or something, that’s when they can go forward with their plan.”

  Cordley was silent for a long moment. His eyes looked over her body, but not in a lecherous way; clearly, he was looking at something else.

  “Does it have something to do with the, ah…physical change in you, since I last saw you?”

  Cassie had no idea what he was referring to.

  “What change?”

  Cordley stroked his jaw, slowly.

  “My mistake. I assumed you had been like this for a while, but I guess it must have just happened. Now that I think about it, it’s probably why Sammael put you in here…hmm, that stands to reason….”

  “Seriously, what are you talking about?”

  In the dim light, she saw his expression change to something more detached, professional. She had a feeling that this was the mood he adopted when he had to give one of his patients some bad news.

  “Cassandra, please tell me. Can you…feel your back?”

  Chapter 38

  Khalil knew it was useless to keep checking Mike’s pulse, but he couldn’t help himself.

  “He’s dead.”

  “For the moment. He will awaken, sooner or later.”

  Khalil stood up and looked at the ashen-faced boy lying motionless on the couch. Mike had always been pale, but now his skin was nearly milk-white. It could have been the early effects of vampirism, but his ghostly pallor was probably due to losing so much blood.

  Sam was sitting nearby, staring down at the surface of the plastic table in the break room. He kept his eyes trained on the table like he was afraid to move them.

  “How long?” Sam asked.

  Dmitri made a small shrug.

  “It depends. Usually a few hours, but he was so close to death, it may be longer.”

  By the door, the blond vampire, Helena, was still sitting on the floor. Her silent sobbing was the only noise in the room.

  “How did this happen? What was he doing giving blood to vampires?” Khalil asked.