With a tap of a button she brought up another window, this one of a picture from one of Jexie’s accounts. It was a selfie, but only her shoulder and the side of her face were in it. The main focus of the picture was the man standing behind her: Franklin Allgeir, alive, and, judging by the look on his face in the picture, none too stable.
It seemed time had just run out.
19
I recognized the sterile surroundings in the picture right away: the hidden Allgeir lab that Darcy and I had broken into. Somehow I doubted Allgeir wanted his secret labs posted all over social media, so Jexie must have gotten the picture off without him noticing. It was a clue as much as it was a plea for help, and remembering the kinds of experiments that were being conducted there, I knew we had to hurry.
Exhausted as I was from days of running around the city and creating portals back and forth to the Vermont estate, there was no time to rest, so I decided to indulge in rest’s greatest substitution: caffeine. By the time the coffee had brewed and I had downed a cup, Lyanne, Eve, and Darcy, were all geared up and ready for a rescue mission.
“We’re not sure exactly what we’re walking into,” I informed them as I grabbed my own pack of supplies, which were thankfully already prepared for me. “Whatever Allgeir is, or what he has become, is strong enough to drop a vampire. There might also be golems, mummies, and who knows what else. Benazir herself may be present, for all we know. Be prepared for anything.”
Lyanne shrugged, not seeming the least bit concerned. “No different from what we do every day, then?”
Darcy’s shape changed until she took the form of an intimidating, burly man nearly seven-feet tall. “Ready to bust in some heads if I have to.”
Eve carefully double checked that her weapons were ready and loaded. “Don’t worry, we’ve got your back.”
I have the best women in my life.
It took a greater deal more effort in my exhausted state than I would have liked, but I managed to create a portal into the entryway of Allgeir labs. Summoning The Night Flail to me, I stepped through the portal ahead of my allies.
Right away it was apparent that the place had seen some rough times since the last time I was here. Some kind of power failure had blown the lights, leaving only the emergency lighting to barely illuminate the hall. The floors were scratched as if something incredibly heavy had been dragged down them, and here and there the walls were splotched with stains that I could only pray hadn’t come from Jexie’s blood. The front desk had been cracked in two down the middle, papers and folders scattered all about on the floor, and a glance down each connecting hall showed similar damage to furniture and fixtures.
I waited for the others to pass through the portal, then slowly we began to trace my steps of my first visit to where I knew they worked on the bodies, and where I had a tingling fear we’d find Jexie and Allgeir. My senses were on high alert, ready for anything that might try to leap out at us from the shadows. Turned out that was unnecessary, as our opponents made no effort to conceal themselves. Not that those lumbering forms of theirs could be easily be hidden. Timur and his golem twin, whom at this point I still only knew as Tweedle-Dum, stood guard outside the door to the lab and did not seem surprised to see us.
I swaggered forward with my most confident grin. “Hello again, boys. Is Allgeir in? I have an appointment. Check the name ‘Kurt the Succubus Hunter.’”
Golems unfortunately seemed to lack a sense of humor. Timur’s twin called out over his shoulder. “They’re here, just like you said they would be.”
A harried voice responded from the lab. “Well, deal with them, Baris! My work has reached a critical moment. I can’t be disturbed now.”
I could feel the women around me begin to tense up as the two golems began to lumber forward. It was time for some decisive guidance, and it came in the form of a simple statement. “I’ll take care of Thing One on the left. Lyanne and Eve, hold off Thing Two ‘til I get to him. Darcy, wait for the opportunity to get past them and get to Jexie. We’ll come to back you up as soon as we’re done here. Under no circumstances do you take unnecessary risks. If it comes to, I’ll swing the flail with my last breath. Go.”
They barely had time to shout their assent before the golems were on top of us. As I was the furthest person forward, I had both golems on me at once, my horizon taken up with a half-ton of lumbering meat and magic. I opened my sight and the warnings it gave me allowed me to just barely keep my head as a powerful fist passed over it, splitting the air with an inhuman hiss. The golems had the unpleasant quality of being both huge and hideously fast, a combination that would result in death for almost anyone fighting them.
Fortunately, I’m not just anyone, and neither are my women.
The golem snapped off two more punches in a combo too fast to follow; I slipped the first and stepped inside the second, letting the fabric of his arm rake my face fast enough to give me mild rug burn. I spun away, reset, and let the flail dangle with menace from my hand, its weight a lethal comfort to me as I sized up the golem for patterns and points of attack. It was a solid, dangerous enemy of inhuman strength, but it was just an enemy. A task. A thing to be overcome and sent to wherever bad ideas and broken soul are tossed when their reach toward evil fails.
I dodged and slid my feet like a dancer, using the flail for pure defense as I marked the golem’s attacks. Time was not on my side, nor was gravity—a thing that didn’t seem to impact the golem at all—and after two hard minutes of shadowboxing with the undead beast, I felt my lungs begin to burn with the telltale signs of a fight that had gone on too long.
Just as a sucked in a deep breath, filling my lungs to bursting, a barrage of gunshots rang out and the golem called Baris was staggered by a hail of bullets. Each round hit him like a hammerblow, proving Lyanne’s investment in armor-piercing rounds-- ammunition that is not typically sold to civilians, but Lyanne once again proved the power of her connections and wealth. She theorized that bullets designed to pierce several layers of Kevlar would have a better chance of harming the creatures, and damned if she wasn’t right. Mostly.
The bullets fired by Lyanne and Eve pierced deep into Baris’s flesh, leaving gaping holes in his suit and tearing off entire chunks of skin from his face. We got a good look at the golem’s insides then: layers of flesh piled on top of each other, with large stitches holding it all together, atop a skeleton that seemed both human and artificial at the same time. The bones gleamed in a twilight between organic and machine; every surface dark with fluid and pitted, as if of a great age. Lyanne lifted her weapon again, smiling, and fired with a steady hand as round chewed into the golem’s chest, sending gouts of silky fluid spinning away from him. With meaty thumps, parts of the golem hit the floor, leaving him ragged, torn, and furious.
Baris roared and charged at the women, wounded but apparently not slowed by the assault. I had to trust that the two of them could handle themselves for a minute while I dealt with the problem at hand, and watching Eve reload, I knew they wouldn’t leave a single round unfired. If anything, Baris was in more trouble with Lyanne and Eve, because unlike them, my flail could only fire once. With two weapons, their rate of fire was doubled, and with their accuracy, it was a punishment Baris would not survive for long.
With only one golem to contend with, I found enough time to strike out with The Night Flail, but once again I found myself with the problem of not being able to strike hard enough to leave any lasting impression. The speed of our fray was such that I couldn’t get a good windup, and while I was scoring hits, they were more harassment than fatal wounds.
That wasn’t an immediate concern, as I had my own secret weapon planned. I just needed to maneuver myself close enough to use it, and that was proving to be a challenge. The hall wasn’t narrow, but it wasn’t wide enough for wide dodges or long arc swings. I kept my elbows close, my strikes tight, and began to slide around into position for my secondary attacks. The best time for a secret attack is during an attack. It’s
dirty as hell, and it can lead to a swift, decisive victory. There are no fair fights. There are only victories or losses, and to hell with the concept of rules.
Timur, perhaps sensing that he wasn’t getting anywhere with his wild assault of punching, paused and began pacing slowly around me. “Is this what it means to be Succubus Hunter?” he growled, speaking in broken English. “Dance around like ballerina until your women can handle your enemies for you?” He worked his lips to spit, but only managed to dribble on his suit.
I struggled to not show how short on breath all the exertion had left me. “Classy. I was just trying to give you a fair chance, big guy. I didn’t want to smack you down too early and have you run away like last time. You know, for such a beefy fellow, you beat a pretty hasty retreat. Must be a lot of practice, eh?”
His smile was vicious, predatory. “How does it feel to know little girl is just behind that door, even now having the last of her life drained from her?” He made a show of looking back at the door. In the chaos, I couldn’t see if Jexie had managed to squeeze past. “She was alive last I saw, you know. But only just. The things he does to test subjects, they are not pretty. Even the strong begin to scream. But she was past screaming. They’re delicious at that point, just before they collapse inward. Like a tent folding up in a storm. Such a tasty little soul.”
I knew that he was trying to goad me, to try and make me lose focus, and I had to fight back as I felt my vision start to go red. Instead I turned my energies to plotting the exact path between us I would take that would allow me to deploy my secret weapon.
He continued his slow circle around me. “How does it feel to be so close, to be just feet from girl as she breaths her last? To just uselessly stand by while the life fades from her?”
In two seconds, he would be right where I needed him to be. My fingers wrapped around a cool object in my pack.
Then he said something that could never be forgiven. “Is that how you felt when your mother died?”
I had always considered the possibility that as I grew in reputation and put myself against smarter and more connected enemies that there was the likely chance that they would research me like I researched them. My life before hadn’t exactly been private. I had even considered the possibility that the more sinister among my enemies might even use that information against me.
Knowing that didn’t stop me from losing my mind. I rushed foolishly forward, The Night Flail coming hard overhead. My sight warned me of an attack coming, but my rage-addled mind couldn’t figure out the strange rectangular pattern it showed me. The answer came a moment later when Timur grabbed an overturned gurney and sent it flying in my direction. It hit me square on and sent me colliding with the wall. The impact knocked the wind out of me and I smacked my head pretty hard, causing me to see stars, white flashes, and a taste of pennies in my mouth that was quickly replaced by something entirely new: white hot anger, pure enough to cook away any semblance of reason.
I pushed off against the gurney and got my feet back under me, but by then Timur was already back on me, moving with a deceptive speed for his size. Two tree trunk sized hands wrapped themselves around my throat and began to throttle me, the bones in my throat clicking as his fingers pistoned closer together, a rigid smile on his broad face. They clenched so tightly around my neck that I was certain my head was about to pop right off, and any chance of breathing was fading fast as the room’s edges grew fuzzy and distant. I tried to gain purchase to return the assault, but Timur was shaking me so violently that I couldn’t reach my pack.
With my airways so blocked I could already feel myself beginning to slip from consciousness. I heard shouting but I couldn’t make out any of it. The world was getting dark—darker. That soft, formless deep of a world where your brain was dying, one oxygen-starved second at a time.
Using my last ounce of strength, I lashed out with The Night Flail, whipping against the arms that were holding me. Either desperation had granted me strength or I just got lucky, but either way the loud crack as the flail crashed against the golem’s arms was enough to get him to release his hold on me. It was a solid strike, and Timur’s flesh was peeled open to expose his massive skeleton, a steady drop of fluid pattering to the floor from my gift to him.
I took greedy breaths while my hand shot into my pack. I pulled out a cool metal vial, popped off its top, and slashed its contents into Timur’s face.
We had spent a great deal of time studying the golem plans we had found in Benazir’s workshop, and even more time experimenting with a sample of flesh-fabric we had taken from it. We discovered that while the flesh maintained many of its original properties, the dye used reacted strongly to a certain laundry detergent. When mixed with a few other household chemicals, we discovered a way to completely destroy the fabric, and we figured it would work just as well on the golems. Sometimes, science is simple. Sometimes it’s incredibly complex. This was a simple solution to a complex problem, and it had the added bonus of smelling like fresh laundry. If there’s a market for killing golems and adding a springy-like scent to your crypt, I intend to be on the ground floor of that market.
But for now, I watched the fluid take effect on Timur, effectively unzipping his flesh in a horrific series of wet tearing sounds. His face began to melt in rivulets, the noxious results streaming down his chest as he sucked in a massive breath and began to bellow like a wounded ox. He put his hands to his face, tore away most of what was left just by touching it, and proceeded to ratchet his shrieks to ear-piercing levels as his flesh—a fabric, really—began sloughing away in great chunks.
Timur gave a scream that turned into a gurgle as the fabric that composed him began to slosh off his chest, dripping down to his torso, which in turn also began to dissolve. His suit dropped off his frame as his body lost enough mass to support it, and I was left facing a skeleton covered in bits of stringy meat that looked like roadkill from an Arizona highway.
In the center of this mess’s mass, I saw a pulsating orb, what Jexie had described as the core of the golem that had attacked my home. I lashed out with the Night Flail, striking the orb and shattering it into two pieces. Immediately the skeleton came apart and collapsed into small pieces on the floor among a steaming cloud of something that smelled like fabric softener and spoiled beef jerky. After making a note to never eat beef jerky again, I tried to catch my breath.
A scream drew my attention, and my respite was over.
Lyanne was on the ground, a bullet ridden Baris looming over her, his eyes lit from within by an inhuman rage. Eve was a few feet away, struggling to her feet with one of the metal vials in her hand, but she wasn’t going to be fast enough. Baris’s arm was raised back for a strike that would certainly pulverize Lyanne’s head.
More on instinct than logic, I lashed out with The Night Flail and managed to wrap its chain around Baris’s raised arm, and with gritted teeth and planted feet I was only just barely able to slow the punch enough for Lyanne to roll out of the way. Baris jerked the flail hard enough that my teeth came together with a brutal click, and I thanked the heavens my tongue wasn’t in the way.
That turned out to be a temporary victory, as Baris grabbed the chain and pulled me toward him like an anchor being retracted from the sea floor. I reached into my back and grabbed a second vial, but the golem had seen what that did to his brother and wasn’t having any of it. He pulled me forward with such force that my feet left the ground, then he clotheslined me as I soared past him. The vial left my hand as I hit the ground and rolled away from me, its merry tinkling a counterpoint to the bitter savagery of our fight.
I tried to pull myself up despite the protests of my back, aware of the golem raising a massive foot over me in preparation for stomping my head flat. He had big boots, and I was going to get a tour of his sole, up close and personal.
He jolted suddenly once, then twice, then turned around. I saw two knives buried deep in his back and wondered who the hell was strong enough to pierce a golem’s skin.
“Hope we’re not too late to the party, old boy.” I never thought I would feel so relieved to hear that accent.
Pembroke and a dozen of his mummies stood only a short distance down the hall. Pembroke, of all things, brandished a rapier, which he cut the air with in a series of neat, wicked little thrusts.
“So underrated, the rapier,” Pembroke said. “I rather think it superior to the great sword, but don’t let my family hear such heresy.”
The two mummies I had seen practicing knife techniques were each pulling out a second set of blades, their eyes on Baris with the kind of lethal intent that I’d come to know could only result in very bad things. Behind Pembroke, Dart was vigorously sniffing the air.
“Her scent suddenly reappeared,” the bloodhound exclaimed. “We were going to tell you once we were sure you had something, but apparently you beat us here. Your nose must be even better than mine.”
Baris rushed at the mummies. I managed to pull myself to my feet and rushed to where the vial had fallen, certain they were going to need my help.
They did not. This group of mummies, at least, was very organized, surrounding the golem and taking turns slashing at him with all manner of bladed weapons, carving out bits of his flesh and letting it fall to the ground. Pembroke himself proved incredibly handy with that rapier, cutting and stabbing so many times in rapid succession that I could barely keep up with it. Baris proved a stubborn foe, though, refusing to drop no matter how much damage he took. In seconds, his skeleton was visible, his suit was a ruin, and he was listing to one side from a savage prick of Pembroke’s sword, right in a joint between hip and leg.
“We’ll take care of this one,” Pembroke proclaimed between slashes. “Go find Jexie!”
I didn’t need any further prodding. After rushing through the doors into the lab, I found Jexie strapped to a table, all sorts of tubing pumping things in and out of her. Allgeir was standing over her, his focus on a tray of needles and vials of what appeared to be murky blood. Behind him was the doctor who attempted to stick me with a needle the first time I broke into the lab.
Succubus Hunter 2 (The Succubus Series) Page 16
