Eldritch Ops

by Phipps, C. T.

  “Thank you,” I said, taking the blade. It was heavy but otherwise felt like cold steel. There was none of the supernatural “aura” I felt from most artifacts. “Wait, will lead me? You can’t just tell me?”

  Christopher shrugged. “When you’re immortal, whimsy becomes one of your last resorts.”

  Without speaking further, my ex-partner transformed into a shadow and vanished from sight. I wasn’t sure if he could shape-shift, a rare gift amongst the undead, or whether it was just a trick of the mind. It didn’t matter either way but reminded me my friend had changed beyond recognition.

  Shannon looked at the burning corpses around me. “Do you think there’s anything to his claims?”

  “The last of them said ‘God wills it’ before he died. It could have been an attempt to throw us off track, but somehow, I doubt it. The Red Room has been secular since the twelfth century, so I’m inclined to think this is a group of God botherers.”

  Countless religious groups with supernatural agendas existed alongside the House. Most of these groups didn’t last very long but included bodies like the True Rosicrucians, the Holy Hand of Allah, the Defenders of Judea, and the Poor Knights of Saint Peter. Vampires were hated by the majority of said groups. One of the few areas where I agreed with them. I was religious, myself, but felt I needed to keep a secular view of the supernatural.

  “You remember I’m Catholic, right?” Shannon said, her expression chiding.

  “I don’t hold it against you,” I said, smirking. “I’m religious myself, but I’m not the type to believe in fanaticism like blowing yourself up.”

  “You just believe it’s right to kill and die for the House—which is worse than any three major religions combined.”

  “I’m not going to argue because I might sound unconvincing.”

  Shannon rolled her eyes. Then she took a deep breath. “I know I set up the meeting, but the circumstances of this attack were pretty suspicious. Do you believe Christopher?”

  I shook my head. “Becoming a vampire changes you on a fundamental level. Vampires are known to brainwash their creations into becoming their slaves. Then there’s the whole marriage thing.”

  Shannon placed a hand on my shoulder. “Love can change even the strongest beliefs.”

  “Love can destroy someone or raise them to godhood,” I said, reciting one of my father’s favorite quotes. “If anyone asks, I’m going to be investigating this because he provided that information on Ruthford. It’s a pragmatic arrangement between two hostile foreign powers, nothing more.”

  “And in reality?”

  “You have to ask?” I looked at her, disappointed. “I protect my friends, even if they’re monsters.”

  Gods and immortals help me, I’d made my choice.

  “I’m counting on that.”

  In the distance, I saw the movement of black unmarked helicopters—the standardized transports of the Red Room. They were arriving fast, which meant that either someone had taken my request seriously or they’d been waiting in the wings the entire time. My money was on the latter. There was just one man in the Red Room with that kind of pull who also had it in for me.

  I was going to have to have a talk with the Professor.

  Chapter Three

  A Type-Three cover-up was what happened when something nasty occurred in public involving Red Room agents. In today’s age of cellphones, texts, and ubiquitous internet access, any witnessed incident could blow up into a major crisis for the Red Room’s security. Thankfully, this hadn’t involved anything overtly supernatural and merely looked like an old-fashioned shootout.

  I used to take it for granted how much effort went into covering up the supernatural. Ironic, given my job. But watching the Red Room set up hundreds of relief tents and trauma counselors while sending fake police officers throughout the area—well, I had to say I was impressed.

  Wandering through the junior agents and other people involved in the cover-up with my cutlass in hand, I came upon the sight of a tall balding African-American man in a jet-black suit. He looked like hundreds of bureaucrats who worked in Washington, D.C., only distinct now because he was standing outside a ski lodge looking pensive.

  The Professor was a former CIA agent brought into the fold by my father. As a result, he was used to a certain way of doing things that often conflicted with the old boy network the House ran. That effect was doubled when he dealt with how I did things. He’d described it as “when cowboy agents meet gross insanity.”

  Several times, the Professor had threatened to have me sanctioned (read: killed), which was Red Room speak for “shot in the back of the head and dumped in a back alley.” I’m not sure he would have been wrong, either. After my second partner’s death, I’d played it close to the edge and may have been daring him to make the call. I wouldn’t say I’d developed a death wish, but having killed and lied for a decade, I was sick of the Great Game and wanted out. Things had changed in the past year, however, not the least thing being I was now his superior rather than his subordinate. Being on the other side of the desk made me appreciate more what his job entailed.

  I still thought he was a prick.

  “Hello, Professor. How’s Mary Ann?” I said, striding up to his side and smiling in the most insincere manner possible.

  “How long have you been saving that one?” The Professor said, unimpressed.

  “About ten years,” I said. “Now I can say it to your face, though. Why were you having me followed?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “This entire set-up would take eight or nine hours. You had it ready to move within five minutes.”

  “You’re a member of the Committee, it falls onto the Red Room to guarantee your safety. I was preparing for your meeting with the Vampire Nation’s representative to go south in the way your meetings with supernatural representatives tend to go.”

  “Funny, I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to inform me of these sorts of maneuvers beforehand. Otherwise, it’ll feel like you were doing this sort of shit behind my back.”

  “I wouldn’t need to do this sort of thing behind your back if I didn’t think, instead of having an evacuation plan, you’d choose to get into a gunfight with five Teutonic Knights.”

  “What?” I was shocked by my attackers’ identity. “Those guys?”

  “The Order of Brothers of the German House of Saint Mary, yes,” the Professor said, sighing. “They were almost eradicated by Napoleon Bonaparte but went underground, passing along membership through the paternal lineage as secret societies are wont to do. We thought their last Grandmaster died in Heinrich Himmler’s dungeons, but it appears we were wrong. The Teutonics direct their focus on destroying the undead and guarding profane relics. Assuming any remain after you and your partner killed an entire chapter.”

  “They started shooting first.” It was a weak excuse. Truth be told, I should have evacuated rather than attempt to engage them myself.

  But I was in charge, so I did what I wanted.

  The Professor wasn’t impressed with my defense. “If we’d lost you, the treaty with the Vampire Nation would have fallen through. Despite the way you choose to act and my own personal feelings, you are not expendable.”

  “The hit was on Christopher Hang, not me.”

  The Professor stared at me, surprised. It was the first time I’d ever seen him that way. “They turned him?”

  “A full one-eighty degrees. It’s Rambo putting on a furry hat and waving around a hammer and sickle. We can presume anything he knew about the House and its structures is now known to the Vampire Nation.”

  The Professor looked at me sideways “You’re not going to say he’d never betray us or something equally maudlin?”

  “He was my best friend. I’m not so new to the Great Game that I don’t realize he may not be the man I thought he was, either.”

  “Or even the man he claims to be. He could be a shape-shifter or someone they’ve altered to resemble him.”
>
  That was an angle I hadn’t considered. “That’s an awfully large amount of trouble to mess with me.”

  “After Agent Hang was killed, you led the most ruthless suppression of vampires in modern history. It was one of the few times I considered your over-the-top antics to be justified, as it instilled fear and respect into the undead. Fear and respect that guards our agents’ lives when they’re compromised in the field. Your death would be an excellent way to demoralize the Red Room if they intended to go to war.”

  “If they were going to kill me, they would have used a better agent. These guys were strictly karaoke night.”

  “Like an agent shaped like your old partner?”

  He had me there. “Point taken. Still, it was Christopher Hang. I know it. You can’t fake some things.”

  The Professor shook his head. “There’s no way of proving that without a DNA test and a series of divinations.”

  “Let’s move on, shall we? Have you checked out those documents he gave us?” I asked, making it a command. Rank had its privileges.

  The Professor sighed. “About Ruthford, yes. Do I have your permission to make a strike?”

  “Hit the bastard’s location so hard not even necromancy will be able to raise him. Maybe throw some holy wafers and garlic over the ashes to be sure. That’s not what I want to talk about, though,” I said.

  “What is?” the Professor said.

  “We need to speak in private.”

  “Why do I always get the impression you’re plotting against our organization whenever you say things like that?”

  “Because intra-office politics kills half as many agents as the supernatural?”

  “Touché.”

  The Professor moved down the hall as he started discussing risk management in allowing the patrons to leave for the next few days. When we were walking on the snow outside, he adjusted the Ring of Veritas on his right finger before I did the same. They were standard issue for Red Room agents and only other members of the organization could understand conversations, except for the ones owned by executives.

  “All right, we can talk freely,” the Professor said.

  “What do you know about Protocol Zero?”

  “Is that what Christopher Hang was asking about?”

  “Let’s say it was.”

  “It doesn’t exist.”

  “Doesn’t exist, or it exists but you’re denying it exists?” I asked, serious despite my wordplay. The Professor had insight into the Red Room’s operations that I didn’t, even if he’d been born outside of it.

  “It’s a vampire conspiracy theory about the House. Anti-supernatural Protocols one through seventeen all exist or existed, but zero was just the imaginings of paranoid bloodsuckers playing with half-truths and misinformation. It’s the equivalent of the moon landing being faked.” The Professor paused in mid-step. “I mean, yes, we removed the castles and so on from the photos, but we visited.”

  I didn’t know how to respond to that.

  The Professor pointed at my chest. “See? That’s how irritating your jokes are.”

  “I’d never joke about the moon landing. Some things are sacred,” I said, sighing. “Okay, say just for the sake of argument that Christopher thinks there’s more to this program than meets the eye and believes it’s responsible for his wife’s disappearance.”

  “Why are we doing favors for vampires?” the Professor asked. “I mean, you hate them more than I do, and I approve of poisoning the lot of them like Blade.”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  The Professor shrugged. “What? Wesley Snipes is a god.”

  “We’re doing this favor because Christopher’s provided us valuable intelligence that may lead to the destruction of one of the most important vampire terrorists in the world. If we can cultivate him as an asset within the Vampire Nation, it could be a serious boon to our intelligence efforts and lead to a demobilization of our resources against the undead.”

  “Peace with vampires is like peace with Nazis. I don’t care what one hundred years of romantic fiction says.”

  I wasn’t sure I disagreed. “Freeing up resources used to monitor and contain groups we have treaties with will allow us to eliminate esoterrorist groups we’re just managing to hold our own against. We took a serious hit from Cassandra, and even the death of the Wazir and the majority of the Emerald Eye hasn’t allowed—”

  The Professor raised his right hand. “You don’t have to justify yourself to me, Derek. That’s what being on the Committee means. I may disagree with your choice of actions, but it’s my job to support you when you make your decisions. That’s what being part of an organization means.”

  “No wonder I hate it.”

  The Professor glared. “You should take whatever evidence you’ve compiled to Doctor Danvers-Hawthorne. If it is Christopher Hang you met with, it must have been some pretty compelling evidence to convince him a nonexistent branch of the House is behind his wife’s kidnapping. He was not a stupid agent, even if he had a little too much of your paranoia.”

  “You’re not paranoid if they’re out to get you.”

  The Professor smiled and turned to me. “But which they?”

  I smirked. “I see. You think this is a setup.”

  “Obviously,” the Professor said.

  “The Teutonic Knights?” I suggested.

  “No, they’re too straight-forward for this sort of action. More likely, they were manipulated into this by a third party. Given they were willing to risk eliminating leaders from both the Red Room and Vampire Nation’s leadership, whoever is responsible is either desperate or confident enough he can deal with the retaliation by both.”

  I nodded. “So, someone powerful or too arrogant to realize how dangerous this is.”

  “Which can go hand in hand. Should I bother warning you this is too dangerous for you to investigate personally?” The Professor crossed his arms.

  “Probably not. If I die, the rest of the Committee will have you promoted before my body is cold.”

  “I’d feel guilty about that. For at least an hour.”

  I was starting to like the Professor. I’d have to nip that in the bud. “Thank you for your advice. I’ll get Lucy right on the cutlass.”

  “I was wondering why you were carrying that.” The Professor turned to the rest of the group. “Then I realized I didn’t care. Is there anything else, or can I get back to the job of covering up your little shootout?”

  I wasn’t about to mention I’d agreed to look into this for Christopher. “No, I’m fine.”

  “Then Godspeed.” The Professor departed.

  Turning around and walking over to a series of crimson tents set up far from the rest of the lodge, I saw the White Room lab junkies sorting through the remains of the snowmobiles and the deceased Teutonic Knights. In a few hours, they’d be transferred to the laboratories back in D.C. for further examination, but I didn’t expect much information to be obtained.

  In the central tent, I saw Shannon talking to my sister-in-law, Lucy. Lucy Danvers-Hawthorne was a year younger than me with long black hair she kept tied in a ponytail. She had pale skin and was on the short side, coming up to my chin. Today, she was bundled up in thick blue winter clothing and earmuffs with a white scarf around her neck.

  Lucy was the smartest person I’d ever known, a polymath among polymaths, but was far too nice for the work she’d been called upon to do. If not for my sister’s relationship with her, I’d suspect she’d have gone crazy long ago. Hell, since their marriage, Lucy had gotten much better mentally. The very fact she was outside of the Division One laboratories was a vast improvement on her previous behavior. Until last year, when we’d been forced out by an esoterrorist threat, she hadn’t been off-site in a decade.

  “The Teutonic Knights’ bodies were damaged by the grenade blast, but I’m inclined to think they may not have been operating on their free will any more than the individual Derek incapacitated,” Lucy said, talking to Shannon as I
approached. Neither seemed to notice me, but I didn’t think I could sneak up on Shannon in the middle of the night during a bombing run.

  “Have you had a chance to investigate him? Was it vampire mesmerism?” Shannon asked, her arms folded across his chest.

  “No,” Lucy said, frowning. “That’s the weird part. It appears to be something similar to vampire mesmerism but induced through a mixture of light-to-retinal manipulation and subliminal suggestion. Replicating that sort of mind control is possible with the House’s resources, implying Protocol Zero exists, but that’s adjusting evidence to fit theories rather than adjusting theories to fit evidence.”

  Brainwashing and mesmerism were the one area the Red Room had a strict rule against. On my watch, the rules had been relaxed to help provide alternatives to dealing with witnesses to supernatural activity. There was less need to kill someone for knowing too much if you could just remove their memories of an event, after all. I still debated if revoking the ban was the right decision. I suppressed those thoughts for the time being. “Interesting.”

  “I got that from Sherlock,” Lucy said, sticking up her thumbs. “Love that show.”

  “So, we’re dealing with non-magical mind controlled Teutonic Knights trying to kill me at a ski lodge?” I shook my head, calling attention to myself. “Only in America.”

  “Actually, the technology is in prototype form in Japan. Nothing concrete, but enough certain parties could reverse—” Lucy started to say.

  “We’ll follow up on that,” I interrupted her, waving my sword at her. “I was curious if you might do me a favor and examine something.”