From the door, I heard a single sentence. The voice was like a choir of ten thousand damned souls. “Impressive.”
The doorway shut and my mind emptied of all thought, too much having happened to process.
The rest of my party, horribly wounded and battered, looked on in a mixture of relief and shock. Both emotions vanished as more explosions caused more pieces of the stone above our heads to fall. The building was coming down on us, and I wasn’t certain we could escape in time.
This was when I slumped over, unconscious.
Chapter Thirty-Six
This time, there was only blackness. I heard explosions, shouts, cries, and recriminations, but nothing roused me from the darkness I was surrounded by. It was surprisingly peaceful, the emptiness. I wondered if I was in Hell, damned to spend however many lifetimes here until I reincarnated as someone better.
My father had always raised us to believe hell wasn’t a suffering place. The God he believed in was not the sort to condemn souls to endless torture, but instead leave them alone with their sin. I decided not. I didn’t believe in that sort of Hell. As merciful and pleasant a prison as God or the Jade Emperor may create, the damned would make it a suffering place. After all, look what humans had done to the Earth, and that was including the good ones.
Time passed, and I realized I wasn’t dead by the sound of music penetrating my ears. It took a second for me to identify the song as “Diamond Dogs” by David Bowie. Not something you’d expect to hear when coming out of a coma.
Fluttering my eyes, I realized I was in the Division One-controlled Saint Magnus’s hospital in downtown Washington, DC. I’d spent enough time over the years to recognize it by sight. I had an IV in my left arm, several monitors and cords attached to my right arm (which I couldn’t feel), and a pair of tubes stuck in my nose. There was also a catheter stuck in me and my immediate reaction was to get it out.
Instead, I lay there, taking in my surroundings. The room was almost completely white, even the furniture, and had a single wooden door leading to the outside while the bathroom entrance was covered in a glass one. There was an absurd amount of equipment in the room, enough that I felt like I was in a spaceship rather than a medical bay.
At the end of my bed was my father, reading The Return of the King out loud. He was sitting at my bedside wearing casual attire and looking like the caring father I didn’t want him to be. The image of Rebecca flashed across my mind and I knew we could never reconcile now. He’d sent me to kill someone I’d loved for a second time.
And worst of all, this time I’d done it.
“You know, I’ve read that book a few hundred times,” I said.
My father didn’t react to my awakening with surprise. “I was hoping the sound of something familiar would awaken you sooner. I’d like to point out I started with The Hobbit.”
“How long have I been out?” I asked, my voice dry.
My father handed over a juice box. I found I couldn’t lift my right hand, so I took it with my left, taking a drink of strawberry lemonade.
“A little more than two weeks,” Nathan said, looking distressed. “You’ve had numerous surgeries since then, complete with magical healing. No expense spared, but even then, it was touch and go. Your insides were pretty ravaged by black magic. I don’t suppose you know anything about that?”
I knew the question was rhetorical. “Must be an aftereffect of my fight with Dracula.”
“Yes, first the Wazir and now Dracula. You’re becoming quite the legendary hero, my son. It’s almost enough to make the Committee overlook all your indiscretions. The Vampire Nation remnant has failed in all of its attempts to bring the Warlord back to life, which indicates he’s not coming back.”
“I didn’t kill either alone. What do you mean, remnant?”
“The Vampire Nation is finished. Like the Nazis after World War 2 or the Knights Templar, they have been crushed by the weight of history.”
“Or your armies,” I said, not believing his confident statement. Dracula had been their war leader but the rest of the Council of Ancients was still alive. Indeed, Dracula may have been weighing them down since he’d always been a proponent of living apart from humans.
“Just so,” Nathan said, closing the book in front of him. “The war had no greater call to arms than the Vampire Nation’s heinous attack on a civilian chemical plant in broad daylight with the entire US Navy witnessing it.”
“Which is not, at all, what happened.”
“The Pact, the Caliphate, Catholic Church, and other allies all believe it. Those who suspect otherwise have no reason to doubt our version of events.”
“The Dead Coyotes—” I started to speak.
“Remember something different.” Nathan said, waving his hand as if hypnotizing me. “Don’t worry, we released them back to the Pact with no injury save to their memories. The pack refused medals, so I arranged for a wire transfer in the effect of six figures. I understand Malcolm is using his share to build a school.”
“And Christopher?”
“Your pet vampire donated six pints of blood, which we filtered and used to keep you stabilized through the process of recovery. He then disappeared before he could be brought up on charges and exterminated. Almost like someone left him in an unlocked interrogation room, near the exit.”
“Thank you.”
“I didn’t say it was me. It will be a difficult world for him to survive in now that the Vampire Nation is destroyed and scattered. Like most dictatorships, it was controlled by Dracula’s cult of personality. With him gone, they are doubly pressed to survive our assassinations.”
“I’d like to see files on the war.”
Nathan shook his head. “Sit, rest, and recover. There’s nothing you can do. You must learn to choose your battles. The Committee suspects you were behind Rebecca’s death but will not press the issue. Tend to your wounds and protect those you love from recrimination.”
“How bad are my wounds?”
“Your right arm under the elbow is artificial,” Nathan said.
My eyes widened.
“Lucy called in specialists from around the world and helped incorporate the magitech to make it appear indistinguishable from a regular one,” Nathan said. “Full Empire Strikes Back technology. This device will be harder to adjust to than your false eye, though, and the technology is less proven. You will suffer pain in it from time to time and will never be able to use magic through it again. I can’t say what effect it’ll have on your shooting.”
I stared at my arm. “Great, I’m becoming more machine now than man.”
“Speaking as someone who has lived through a great number of American wars, I request you don’t make comparisons of prosthetics to Lord Vader. Far too many good and decent men lack access to devices like the one you now sport—another failure of the House system.”
“Sorry. Pain always puts me in the mood to quote Star Wars.”
Nathan snorted. “Then it’s a wonder you aren’t quoting it all the time. You should consider retiring from field work. You were too old for it before you became one of the most powerful men in the world.”
“I’ll never involve myself in a case again,” I lied.
I never wanted to involve myself in anything House-related again, but there was nothing I could do about that. No one left the House unless it was in a body bag, and they’d probably send out assassins after Christopher once they’d given him a sufficient head start. He was right that I’d probably no longer be doing missions on the ground, but I couldn’t just flick off my instincts like a light switch.
“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Nathan took back the juice box.
“Anything else I should know?”
“We did a complete neurological and mental scan of your brain after doing three separate exorcisms. There’s no sign of the Bloodsword’s demon. I wrote down there were indications she was using a low-level mind control to influence you into trusting her, but there were none. Why, f
or the love of God, were you working with that thing?”
“I dunno,” I said. “I guess because Mary saved my life.”
Nathan looked annoyed. “Well, promise me you won’t get involved with any more black magic. The sorcery you worked almost killed you and would have given enough time. The sole reason you’re not riddled with cancer is Hoshi’s nanites.”
“What does the family think happened to Rebecca?” I asked, looking away.
“You missed the funeral. I gave a moving speech about her sacrificing her life for the House. Penny knows the truth but would never betray your confidence. Everyone else thinks she was researching medicine.”
“I wanted to find another way—”
“Rebecca is the sixth child I’ve lost and the second I fear for the soul of.” Nathan stood up from his chair. “If you decide to continue studying the paths of sorcery, Derek, I suggest you do not pursue the path of longevity as I have. It wears on the soul.”
I asked him one final question. “What happened to the Bloodsword?”
“If I had your gift for quips, I’d say it was being researched by top men. In truth, though, I have no idea.”
“No idea?”
Nathan walked to the door before turning to me and nodding. “It disappeared soon after our researchers acquired it. Lucy is beside herself. In my mind, I suspect it will show up whenever your friendly neighborhood demon wants you to have it again.”
“Great,” I said, taking deep breath. “When do I get discharged?”
“You just emerged from a coma. Trust me, we’re all aware of how tough you are.”
I didn’t want to spend any more time here. “I’ve been in a coma twice before. The White Room had me wakened from them within hours and sent back into the field.”
Nathan frowned. “A few days but, given your body-control abilities, you might be able to leave any time you want. I wouldn’t recommend it, though.”
“Goodbye, Nathan.”
Nathan departed, leaving me alone in the room. I looked to my right arm and stared at it, willing it to move. It didn’t make any grinding noises like in a science fiction movie, but looked and felt like an ordinary arm.
I moved my fingers several times and wondered why they hadn’t tried a transplant or tissue growth like they did in Europe. Was I incompatible, or did Lucy just trust technology over flesh when trying to patch me back up?
I was wiggling my fingers when I saw Shannon pop her head in. She was wearing a round white hat and a red-threaded anachronistic nineteenth-century suit. I had to blink a few times to make sure I wasn’t seeing things. In her right hand was an umbrella.
“You’re awake?” Shannon said, walking in.
“Why are you dressed like you just stepped off a stagecoach?” I asked, staring at her.
“Wetwork waits for no one. My current mission is at a steampunk convention.”
“And I missed it?” I asked, feigning horror.
“There’s still a couple of days,” Shannon said, looking at my new arm. “How’s the wrist action, Tin Man?”
“So far so good, but it feels heavier than my regular arm. I’ll have to try it out on delicate tasks,” I said, lacing my words with innuendo.
Shannon snorted. “Just make sure you have complete control before you bring that thing anywhere near me.”
“Will do,” I said.
Shannon walked over to my side, put down her umbrella and looked at me. “I want to hug you, but I’m not sure how to get around all these wires.”
“I’ll have a nurse remove them,” I said, annoyed by my surroundings. I needed to get away from all this. The House, the conspiracies, the lies, and the murder. You couldn’t leave the Committee, but maybe they’d let me take a leave of absence. “I want to check out within the hour.”
“Are you sure that’s wise?” Shannon looked even more concerned than Nathan.
“Better than waiting here in a prone state until the Committee decides my handling of the Camp Zero situation was suspicious,” I said, shifting in the bed. “Though I suppose if they were going to kill me they would have just let me die.”
“No one wants you to die,” Shannon said, placing her hand on my right hand. I felt the warmth of her hand against my artificial skin. I had to commend Lucy’s work. “Everyone in the House is talking about your heroic defeat of Dracula.”
“How a vampire, three werewolves, a witch, and a lilin helped me kill him with black magic?” I asked.
“Sounds like a video game, doesn’t it?” Shannon joked.
“A little,” I admitted.
Shannon smiled coyly. “Yeah, that’s why they edited it into a more sanitized story. I think it involves rescuing me from being kidnapped since I’m a helpless damsel in distress.”
I snorted.
A dark look came over my face. “Shannon, there’s something you need to know. My sister, Rebecca—”
“I figured it out.”
“Do you still want to be with a kinslayer?”
“I’m an ex-serial killing Satanist and you’re asking me if I want to be with you after you killed your psycho sister.”
I stared at her. “Yes?”
“The warrior-poet-assassin thing is usually pretty hot, but drop the angst, Derek. We have enough trouble in our lives worrying about things we need to without you angsting about someone who doesn’t deserve it.”
I didn’t respond.
Shannon leaned over and gave me a kiss on the lips. “You’ve got another couple of visitors outside.”
“You brought a meal for us to enjoy?”
Shannon raised an eyebrow. “Really, Derek? You’ve had your entire body completely bit to shit and you’re thinking about a threesome?”
“You’re a succubus, Shannon. It’s entirely your fault. Besides, I want to see if this new hand works as well as I’m hoping.”
“That’s not creepy.”
“I need my hands for two things.”
“Shooting and eating?”
I smirked at her.
Shannon poked me in the shoulder, which hurt a bit more than would have been comfortable for sex, even if it were possible in a hospital where we were undoubtedly being watched by all manner of the House’s security.
“I really think you should take these two.” Shannon pulled away.
The smile ran away from my face. “Oh?”
Shannon nodded. “I’ll talk to you afterward.”
Now I was curious. “Send them in.”
Shannon walked to the door and waved to someone outside of my sight, leading to my uncle Ben Talbot coming in. Ben stood well over six feet in height with broad shoulders and over three hundred pounds of muscle. His face was riddled with scars, and I knew the rest of his body was equally covered in them. Ben was the real-life inspiration for Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein.
A century before Shannon, he’d been the House’s first supernatural agent and had a storied career spanning decades, against everything from demons to Ghost Hitler. Today, he was wearing an extra-large Hawaiian shirt and a pair of baggy beige cargo shorts with flip-flops. A pair of mirror sunglasses rested on his nose.
It was a ridiculous look, but one that was entirely him. Behind him, Christopher entered the room. It was insane—suicidally so, really. The House was extremely good at detecting supernatural infiltrators, and we were now at war with the Vampire Nation (what was left of it).
He was at least dressed differently. He’d adopted a brown overcoat over a blue sweater with a scarf. Christopher was even wearing blue jeans, which was a sharp contrast to the richly dressed man who had greeted me at the ski lodge. Christopher looked more like himself now, but that couldn’t change the fact that he still was a vampire and always would be.
At least, until he was killed.
“Hey,” I said, wondering what had managed to bring him out of retirement. “A vampire, succubus, and Frankenstein walk into a hospital bed to visit a cyborg blood mage.”
Shannon rolled her eyes.<
br />
Christopher looked to Shannon. “Shannon, if you don’t mind, could you give us a couple of minutes alone?”
“Sure.” Shannon departed, shutting the door behind her.
“This feels foreboding,” I said, looking between my guests. “How the hell did you two meet?”
“Hard work on his part,” Talbot said, putting his hands together. “I met him during my vacation in Hawaii. He couldn’t get in touch with you after the events on Nassau so he wanted to use me as an intermediary.”
“He shouldn’t be here,” I muttered.
“No shit he shouldn’t be,” Talbot said. “However, he is.”
“Okay, but if this turns into a secret plot to kidnap me and drag me off to some hostile nation—”
“That’ll be Thursday,” Christopher said.
“Point taken.”
Christopher looked over his shoulder, as if worried Red Room agents would burst in at any second. “We need to talk.”
“Do we?” I said, looking at my artificial arm and flexing the fingers. “Dracula is permanently dead, Protocol Zero is no more, the Vampire Nation has taken a serious hit and probably will lose this war without revealing the Truth, plus your wife is dead along with my sister, but it’s okay because they were both assholes. Am I missing anything?”
“The House set you up.”
“Did it?” I asked, not at all surprised.
Christopher explained his theory. “The only reason you didn’t have layers upon layers of security at Aspen, that Dracula was able to pick you up, and that I was even able to get a meeting with you is because the rest of the Committee wants you gone.”
I sighed. “Christopher, if the Committee wanted me dead, I’d be dead. The only reason I’m alive is Nathan.”
“That’s what he wants you to think. I think your father is the one who wants you dead.”
I stared at him. “No.”
Talbot looked away, giving more credence to the theory than I was comfortable with. He’d once been my father’s best friend.
Christopher sighed. “You’ve changed the game board. Twice. The Emerald Eye and Vampire Nation are both collapsing. The House was weakened both times, but it’s going to grow in power now. That’s going to give you security in your position. The other Committee members may not see you as an equal, but you’re going to be their hatchet man from now on. The Dragon they use to guard their treasure.”
Eldritch Ops Page 31