by Steve McHugh
“You killed Cody, too.”
“He would have killed you and vanished. He’s a shapeshifter; he could become anyone, and no one would ever see him again.”
“We need to find somewhere to stay until morning,” Layla said. “It’s pitch-black, and I’d rather not stumble around in the dark.”
“It’s clearly not pitch-black,” Caleb said.
“It’s just a saying,” Layla said. “It just means it’s really dark. Anyway, I heard wolves in the distance—let’s keep away from them.” She reached out with her power and began pulling pieces of the car apart, using them to create a rudimentary building that looked a lot like a shed.
“That’ll have to do,” she said when she was finished, and she stepped inside. She’d created a large enough opening in the roof to let the moonlight in, so she wasn’t alone in a small, dark space with a serial killer. She didn’t think he’d ever add her to his list of victims, but there was still a small percentage of her that didn’t trust him not to try.
When they were both inside, she manipulated the metal to close the entrance, blocking them in.
“Nice workmanship,” Caleb said, taking a seat in the far corner. “You want to use your power to put cuffs on me again? I removed them when I was in the trunk. I’ve picked my fair share of locks over the years.”
“Do I need to?”
“No, Layla. You don’t.”
“He’ll kill you, you know,” Gyda said, appearing beside Layla.
“Go away,” Layla said.
“I can’t,” Caleb told her.
“Not you. Talking to one of the spirits in my scroll.”
“He’s as bad as Terhal,” Gyda said. “You never listen to me. You never heed my warnings.”
“Because all of your warnings end with me being murdered,” Layla said. “Now is not the time for any more of them. Please.”
Gyda tutted and vanished.
“How many spirits do you have?” Caleb asked.
“Three. You?”
“Two. A man and a woman. I haven’t heard from either of them in a very long time.”
“The sorcerer’s band means you can’t talk to them, I guess.”
“It’s not that. My personality and theirs merged a long time ago. Before I started killing. You know about this, yes? That your personality and that of your spirits will start to jumble around?”
Layla nodded. “It’s come up.”
“Once it’s complete, they vanish. Only appearing when called.”
“They never mentioned the vanishing to me.”
“They don’t know it happens. Once fully bonded, they’re only aware of themselves when they’re talking to you. The fact that once fully bonded they can’t appear without your say-so is neither here nor there. The same thing will happen to me when I die and my spirit joins the scrolls. And the same thing will happen to you, too.”
“So, you’re not a serial killer? It’s the spirit who made you do it?”
Caleb shook his head. “No, I did it. I chose to kill people. I enjoy removing the worst from the planet. It gives me a sense of wellbeing. I was just making conversation about my spirits. They merged with me long ago. You think me a monster because I kill, but I would think of myself as a monster if I let those I kill live.”
Layla watched her father as he lay down and wondered whether or not she’d develop more personality traits from her spirits. She wasn’t sure she wanted them. Layla thought back to the voice she used to have in her head, the one that told her to hurt the people who threatened her in some way; the one who had told her to hurt Chloe in order to win a sparring match. She’d always thought that it was just the years of training her father had drilled into her. But now there was another possibility.
“Are you sure that none of your spirits were passed on to me when you had me?” she asked him.
“Yes,” Caleb said. “Now rest. We need to head out at first light.”
For the first time since the day the FBI arrived to arrest her father, Layla felt like he’d said something honest to her. Something real and comforting. She just didn’t know if she could believe it.
15
Kristin was furious. Not only had she been unable to capture Caleb and Layla, despite having the shapeshifter known as Cody working for them inside the house, she’d lost Diana, and been injured with a gunshot to the knee. The injury had healed quickly, but she was less than happy with the umbra she’d brought with her, who had been no help when faced with a real combat scenario. It was all well and good to have incredible power, but it was useless if you were unable to use it effectively because you weren’t trained to fight.
Kristin had set off to Winterborn, angry and alone, and had contained her rage as she entered the compound controlled by Nergal’s forces. A barebones staff, mostly blood elves, guarded the area.
Kristin ignored the blood elves and their message to go and see Nergal and had instead gone down to the prison that had been built underground. She’d walked to the nearby guard station, removed the keys for one of the cells, unlocked it, and stepped inside.
The prisoner had taken the opportunity offered to him to become an umbra, but had refused to cooperate with those who had tried to help him control his newfound power. The umbra had been disruptive, and Nergal had been forced to lock him away until he could be dealt with.
Kristin drew a silver dagger and pounced on the umbra while he slept, repeatedly stabbing him in the head and chest until they were both drenched in blood.
Despite the umbra being dead, Kristin continued the attack until she no longer felt the rage inside of her. She’d picked the umbra because he’d been rude to her several days ago when she’d explained to him that he wouldn’t be going home and that it was in his best interest to work with them, not against them.
She stood up and wiped the dagger on part of the quilt that had escaped the spray of blood before sheathing it. She left the room and saw a blood elf standing further down the gray brick corridor. The prison consisted of two dozen doors along either side of the corridor. The doors faced one another, and each led to a separate cell.
“Clean this up,” Kristin snapped. “And dispose of the body however you see fit.”
The creature’s eyes widened in pleasure. Kristin knew that the blood elves left no trace of their food behind. A six-foot umbra would be a good feast.
Kristin walked down the corridor, turning several corners until she reached the cell she was looking for. Two blood elves stood guard outside of the door. “I need to speak to him,” Kristin said.
The blood elves stood aside, allowing Kristin to unlock the cell. The blood elves weren’t allowed access to the prison keys. It would be like allowing pigs free access to their food.
Kristin stepped inside the cell. She figured the room was approximately twelve feet by ten, with seven-foot-high ceilings. There was a drain in the center that was a foot in diameter: big enough to empty a lot of fluid when the room needed to be cleaned. The floor was bare concrete, but marked where people had carved words or pictures into it. At some point, someone had painted the walls a light blue, although Kristin didn’t know why they’d bothered. It was just going to get splattered with more blood.
A metal table and two chairs sat in the middle of the cell, the former of which was bolted to the concrete. They’d been added to the cell once Commander Fenix had been placed inside. Kristin picked up one of the metal chairs and scraped it along the ground, causing Fenix to wake up and look over at her.
The guards hadn’t been particularly kind to him, and he had a nasty cut above his eye that needed stitching. Unfortunately for Commander Fenix, Kristin didn’t have any anesthetic to hand. Contrary to what Hollywood would have you believe, there was actually a lot of yelling involved when a wound was getting stitched without anesthetic.
Sweat drenched his blood-stained, white t-shirt. Kristin had the blood elf guards bring in a bottle of ice-cold water. She sat and waited for Fenix to sit in the chair opposite her. T
he blood elf returned and poured the cold water into a large metal bowl that sat on the table.
“I guess if you were Layla, you’d be able to move the table to kill me,” Kristin said. “Or rather, if you were Layla and you weren’t wearing a sorcerer’s band.”
“Your hospitality has been somewhat lacking,” Fenix said. “But if you’d like to bring me a cup of tea and some biscuits, I’ll consider leaving you a good online review.”
Kristin laughed. She hadn’t meant to, but the brazen response was something she hadn’t been expecting. “You know what, if you answer my questions, you get whatever you like. You want to tell us what that bracelet does? Nergal would like to remove it from you, but he’s unsure what the runes inscribed on it do, and we didn’t want to cause any little accidents.” Kristin hoped that the sorcerer’s band and bracelet reacted negatively to one another.
“I don’t know what it does.”
“That’s what you’re going to lead with?”
“You can torture me for the information, but I genuinely have no idea. Everyone has to wear one; no one knows why. There are ideas and theories, but nothing concrete.”
“Nergal’s people will find out.”
“Or blow themselves up trying.” Fenix leaned over the table a little. “I hope for the second option.”
Kristin dunked his head into the bowl of almost freezing water before Fenix had time to react and held it there while she counted to thirty.
Fenix gasped as she released his head; his face was drenched and water ran down his chin onto his shirt, making a small puddle on the table. He moved back in his chair, as if wanting to be as far away from the water as possible.
“I can’t abide cockiness,” Kristin said. “It’s just such a low personality trait. So how about you watch your tongue?”
Fenix spat onto the ground. “Fair enough. I see you’re covered in blood. I assume it’s not yours.”
“Good assumption. Your friend Layla and her gaggle of followers managed to anger me tonight.”
“They got away?” Fenix didn’t smile.
“Yes,” Kristin said. “But their only option is to come here to Winterborn, so I just wanted you to know that you’ll be getting some roommates soon.”
Fenix’s eyes narrowed. “Just tell me what you want already.”
“Where is Hades?”
“I don’t know,” was Fenix’s response, and for the merest moment, Kristin thought that he looked surprised at the answer.
“Where is Thomas Carpenter? Or Olivia Carpenter?”
“I don’t know.”
The surprised look came back, but it was quickly replaced with a smile.
“Where is Hades’ base of operations outside of Canada?”
“I don’t know,” Fenix said, and burst out laughing.
“You think this is funny?” Kristin said, irritated by the man’s behavior.
“I really do,” Fenix told her. “This is by far and away the funniest thing I’ve done in some time.”
“You want to tell me why?”
Fenix shook his head. “I can’t answer your questions.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Well, if I could, I still wouldn’t. But in this case, can’t.”
Kristin sat back in her chair. “You’re probably wondering if I’m going to torture you. Not the beating you got—that was just a welcome-to-your-new-home kind of thing. I mean torture. Real torture. The answer is no. No, I’m not. I could, and I’m good at it, but I don’t think inflicting incredible pain is going to change your mind.”
“So do we just sit here and talk?” Fenix asked.
Kristin got up from her seat and knocked on the cell door, which opened a second later. Two more Kristins walked into the room.
“These are two of my clones.”
“They have different hair than you,” Fenix said. “And that one is a little taller.”
“Yes, each clone is slightly different to me, and to the clone before it. Your friend, Chloe Range, killed one of them. And, last night, Layla injured another one so badly that I had to leave her to die. And she’s dead now: fractured skull, bleeding on the brain. For someone who isn’t supposed to be particularly vicious, Layla did quite the number on her. I’m going to have to have a chat with her about that.”
Creating clones meant Kristin had to give away part of her power. For every clone she made, she gave up ten percent of her power, her strength, and her ability to heal. Ten percent of what made her her. It was usually worth the risk, but once a clone was called back, she couldn’t recreate that clone unless all nine had been killed or recalled by her. Umbra powers were unpredictable, wild, and sometimes dangerous, but they were always interesting.
“So instead of you, someone else is going to torture me?”
“No, they’re just here to keep you from doing anything silly. You’re going to want to leave in a minute, and I can’t have that.” One of the clones passed Kristin a battery-powered speaker, which she placed on the table in front of Fenix.
“You’re going to torture me with music? Is this one of those things where you saw it happen on a TV show or something?”
“Not quite,” Kristin said, switching on the speaker and filling the cell with the sounds of screams.
Fenix watched the small speaker as the screams were replaced by pleading. “What’s your name?” a male voice asked.
“Jared,” came the strained reply.
There was the sound of a fist meeting flesh. “Your full name.”
“Jared Bray.”
“And where is Hades’ compound?”
“Canada.”
“No, we know it’s not. Where is the other compound?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s a shame, Jared, it really is.”
“Please don’t,” Jared said. “Please. I don’t know.”
Jared’s screams filled the air once again.
“Stop it,” Fenix said. “He can’t say.”
“And why would that be?” Kristin asked.
“I don’t know. I didn’t even know it was possible until you asked me, and I couldn’t tell you. I don’t know where Hades’ compound is outside of Canada. That information isn’t in my head. It’s like a black hole.”
“That’s disappointing,” Kristin said, switching off the speaker. “Maybe one of the others knows more, but for now, I’ll just leave you here until we have other questions. Or until Jared happens to break. I wonder what will happen first.”
Kristin left the room as Fenix called her a string of names. “Keep an eye on him,” Kristin told Clone One. She used to give them all names, but had long since changed to numbers. The amount of effort it took to create new clones was a drain on her stamina. It didn’t take long to do, but she felt weaker. Kristin didn’t get attached to the clones, but she hated when they died because she knew what it would take to recreate them.
“Anything else?” Clone One asked.
“Don’t harm him. Even if he’s telling the truth, and he can’t tell us where Hades’ compound is, we can still get a wealth of information about Hades’ collaborators.”
Clone One nodded and stood guard outside of the room as Kristin and Clone Two walked through the underground maze of corridors to the lift that took them up into the aboveground building in Winterborn.
They were met by Clone Three, who had only four fingers on her right hand. “Nergal would like to see you,” she said.
Her last three clones. Kristin could look through their eyes to see what they were doing and learn what they knew almost instantly, but only if required. Most of the time she preferred not to, since the constant updates could be somewhat overwhelming. Instead, she had them act autonomously, downloading their knowledge when she slept. It was only when they were on a mission that she allowed herself to watch them, which was partially why she was so irritated by the failure to kill Madison.
“Go rest,” she told Clones Two and Three, and they both went off to sleep. Th
ey really didn’t need food, or drink, or rest. But the longer they went without the latter, the more quickly Kristin would tire.
While the underground complex was where a lot of the unpleasantness of Nergal’s operation was carried out, the aboveground was little more than a large warehouse. Kristin went back to her room and changed, wiping off the blood from her face and arms. She would have showered, but Nergal wouldn’t appreciate being made to wait.
When she was no longer covered in blood, Kristin walked across the huge open floor where several hundred agents of Nergal’s were climbing into the backs of dozens of large military-looking trucks. She found Nergal upstairs in the largest of the offices, sitting behind a desk, looking through the window at his troops below.
“You really are useless, aren’t you?” Nergal said without anger, as if he were just stating a fact. “Dead umbra, dead clones, and no Caleb or Layla. I was going to march to Thunder Bay and oversee the glorious fall of Hades, but instead I’m here having to tell you that you’re incompetent.”
Kristin bit her tongue. She did not appreciate being blamed entirely for the failed mission. She had no idea that Cody was in the house until an hour before she was ready to go, and she hadn’t picked the umbra to take with her; they’d been sent to the prison by Nergal to assist. She wanted to tell Nergal that he could stuff his words up his ass, but instead she remained quiet. She would need to release the rage later.
“We are at war,” Nergal continued. “I cannot have this level of ineptitude when I’m in the middle of my greatest accomplishment: removing Hades as a person of power.”
“Did Cody complete his task?” Kristin asked.
“Cody was found dead this morning. He left a message last night saying he had both Cassidys, and the BMW he was driving was discovered partially stripped of its metal. A small shed was found nearby. The girl and her father are on their way here.”
“How long before they get here?”
“Depends when they left. Cody’s body was found an hour ago, at first light.”
