Awakened

by C. Steven Manley

  Decision made, Israel started moving away from his spot in the grass at an angle to the incoming man. He had gotten maybe five feet when he heard someone harshly whisper, “Three, contact left!” The soldier who had been closing in on him rushed forward suddenly. Israel stood up and started running.

  He expected someone to shout for him to ‘stop’ or ‘freeze’ or something. Instead, three rapid pops echoed through the darkness and he heard a hornet buzz past his ear. Israel cursed out loud and veered quickly to his right, another trio of pops chasing him. He heard men talking loudly now, calling out positions and locations, trying to get into formation around him. He ran hard, changing direction randomly, but always with a mind for heading in the direction of the tree line. As he drew closer, trees appeared sporadically and he rushed up on a fallen one with dead, dry branches reaching like stiff spider-webs for the sky. He smiled and jumped, clearing it easily.

  The soldier he landed on when he came down on the other side shouted in surprise. “Four, contact engaged, cont-”

  Israel was as shocked as the government man and they collided like two kids on a playground. The government man collapsed under one hundred and ninety pounds of Israel and they both rolled to the ground in a tangle of arms, legs, backpack, and weapons. Israel scrambled to disengage from the man, but his back pack was snagged on something. He let his arms slip through the shoulder straps and scrambled to his feet.

  The soldier rose at the same time, tossing Israel’s pack to the side. So, not snagged, but held. The man’s weapon was hanging barrel down from a clip that was attached to his vest. His hands moved quickly to bring it to bear.

  Israel moved without thinking. He surged forward and hit the man low with one shoulder and raised up at the moment of impact intent on knocking the man from his feet football style. Instead, he heard bones crack and saw the soldier fly away from him and land in a heap ten feet away.

  “Holy shit,” he said before spinning to the sound of heavy footfall behind him. Another soldier appeared, weapon aimed forward. Israel moved to the side as the weapon erupted in a quick trio of shots accented by a faint muzzle flash. Something like a hammer blow hit Israel twice in the chest.

  He staggered and fell, knocked off balance by the blow. There was no pain, he realized. It was just a kind of numb heaviness where the bullets had torn through him. He felt cool air on and through the wounds, but no pain. No pain, but… something else. Something deeper.

  The soldier moved forward, weapon lining up for another shot. Israel rolled fast to one side as three more bullets tore divots from the earth. He was on his feet faster than he thought he could ever move. The soldier spun to face him, but Israel was faster. He moved close and caught the short barrel of the rifle as it swung toward him. Three more gunshots joined the sound of more heavy footfall coming his way. Israel yanked hard at the weapon. The clip that secured the rifle to the man’s tactical vest held and he staggered forward.

  Anger bubbled through Israel like something alien and he snarled like a cornered animal. The soldier regained his footing and tried to wrestle the rifle from Israel’s grasp. A fist clad in Kevlar and thick plastic knuckle plates collided with Israel’s nose. Israel snarled again and drove a fist into the man’s stomach. He grabbed the bottom of the tactical vest with that hand, held on to the rifle with the other. He pivoted as hard as he could and threw the soldier toward his oncoming companions.

  Israel had never seen a human being spin through the air like a Frisbee. Even through his anger, he found the sight a little unsettling. It grew even more so when the flying man hit another and he heard three more shots fire harmlessly into the sky.

  Another trio of pops and Israel felt three hard impacts tear through him. He spun and saw another sepia-filled silver outline moving toward him. The sepia was brighter now and he swore he could hear the pulsing heart in the man’s chest. Something ached throughout Israel’s bones. Scents filled the air: sweat, musk, fear, and meat.

  “Oh, sweet Jesus,” Israel heard the soldier say as he saw the man he’d just shot.

  The weapon fired again, but Israel was already moving. He hit the man like a linebacker but didn’t let go. Israel had his arms around the soldier, his limbs pinned to his side, his rifle trapped and useless between them. The scent of the man filled Israel’s nostrils, salty and sweet. Israel’s teeth involuntarily bared as he fought the irrational urge to tear at the man with his teeth and savor the sensation of it.

  Instead, he squeezed. The soldier screamed. Ribs cracked and broke beneath the pressure. Israel turned his head away from the man, afraid his control might slip. Somewhere far in the back of his mind behind the anger and hunger, he heard a tiny voice urging him to focus.

  Israel dropped the limp soldier to the ground. He stood over him staring at the pulsing sepia glow that radiated from his chest. The smell of him made Israel groan with hunger and need. His teeth ground together. It would be so easy, so wonderful, so… delicious.

  Three pops echoed through the night. Israel’s left shoulder kicked backwards, but he didn’t stumble. He could see the fifth man coming toward him. Anger and hunger urged him forward. The tiny voice screamed.

  Israel turned and ran for the tree line. He ran faster and harder than he ever had before, driven by rage and terror and hunger and the sound of useless bullets buzzing around him.

  When he finally reached the tree line, he wasn’t really Israel anymore.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “What the hell are you playing at, Warburton?”

  Olivia looked up at the man pointing at her over her desk. Despite his obvious anger, she couldn’t help but pause at the sheer oddity he presented. Department of Genetic Research and Investigation Special Agent Hiro Namura stood just over five-and-a-half feet tall and looked every bit the son of his native Japanese parents. Black hair just tipped with gray as he approached his middle age was cut short against an oval face that carried serious eyes and a mouth that looked unfamiliar with the concept of a smile. His movements were precise and measured from a lifetime of military and government service. The oddity lay in his voice; though his parents were immigrants from Okinawa, Namura was born and raised in The United States and spoke with an accent that was pure south Texas.

  “I’m usually playing at any number of things, Agent Namura. You’ll have to be more specific,” Olivia said with a cold smile.

  “Don’t bullshit me, lady. Where are you hiding him? Down in that Hobbit Hole of yours?”

  Olivia raised an eyebrow at that. She knew some of the staff had taken to calling the holding facility on the northern portion of the estate the ‘Hobbit Hole.’ What she didn’t know was how Namura could possibly know that. She looked over at Mr. Stone who was watching the exchange from the comfort of a chair to Namura’s left. Though most people found his expressions to be a perfect fit to his name, Olivia had known Stone long enough to accurately gauge his reactions. She could tell he’d caught Namura’s reference as well.

  “Hiding whom?” she said.

  Namura smiled. “Israel Trent. Paragon level Necrophage. One of two survivors of the Oceanside breach from two days ago. Died in this office, I believe.”

  Olivia kept her smile in place. “We sweep for surveillance daily, Namura, so I know you didn’t get that electronically. Just how many people do you have embedded on my staff?”

  “Classified,” Namura said. “Give us the ‘phage.”

  “Show me a warrant.”

  “Why the hell would I need one of those?”

  Olivia shrugged. “Civil liberties? Mr. Trent is a taxpaying citizen, after all.”

  “Well, now, that’s where you’re wrong,” Namura said. “Israel Trent was a solid taxpaying citizen. That dead thing you have locked up down there doesn’t have any rights and we both know you aren’t calling the ACLU to dispute that.”

  “The Council of the Veil might have something to say about his status.”

  “I’m sure they will. Hell, they’ll probably have to d
ust off some old books to remind them how they finally managed to put down old Vlad back in the day. You know as well as I do Trent would scare the pants off every bloodline out there.”

  “Maybe,” she said. “Maybe not. We have Mr. Trent under lock down for study. He is no threat to anyone and we are using him to learn more about the Necrophagic Bloodline. He may provide us with information that could help us prevent another Barrow incident. He is contained, controlled, and cooperating fully. There is no threat there.”

  “Locked down” Namura said, nodding. “Hell yeah, you do. Locked down in a secret underground jail house that The Sentry Group neglected to inform the DGRI about.”

  Olivia raised her eyebrow again. “A clerical oversight, I’m sure. I’ll speak to my staff about it.”

  “Clerical oversight, my-” Namura’s phone chirped and he stopped talking long enough to snatch it from his jacket pocket. “Go,” he said.

  Olivia looked over at Stone. His eyes were slightly downcast as though he were waiting for something. An irritating suspicion tickled through her mind.

  “Say again,” Namura barked, his face growing red through the olive complexion. “Copy that. Lay out a search grid. I want eyes in the sky ASAP focusing on his last known heading. I’ll be on site in five.”

  Namura ended the call and faced Olivia again. “Well, looks like your little Hobbit Hole ain’t the lock down facility you thought it was. Trent’s gone. Took out two of your guys and four of my professional bad-asses after they put a number of high-caliber holes in him. What was that about him not being a threat?”

  A chill swept through Olivia’s guts. “He killed them? You have to quarantine those bodies, Hiro.”

  “I know the protocols, Olivia.” He accented her name in a way that reminded her he wasn’t some employee to be flattered by the use of a first name. “Nobody died, though one of my guys has a crushed ribcage and is probably looking at an early disability retirement. They’ll all go through the usual decontamination procedures. In the meantime, the DGRI will handle the manhunt. I am officially ordering Sentry to stand the hell down while we sort out your mess.”

  “Why did you have an armed team on my grounds?”

  Namura smiled. “Well, I just knew that you were going to be your usual cooperative self, Olivia.” The DGRI man turned to go.

  “We can help you,” Olivia called after him.

  “Don’t need it. The phage dropped a backpack in the fight. We’ll find him.” Namura stopped and looked back. “We’ll also find out who gave him a backpack full of supplies. Be seeing you, Olivia.”

  Olivia gave Namura a full minute to get out of the house before she looked at Stone and said, “What the hell did you do?”

  Stone held up a hand and raised a phone to his ear. “Did you hear all that? Right, then, burn the phone.” He listened for moment. “Don’t fret,” he said. “I’ll tell her.”

  Stone ended the call and faced Olivia.

  “Michelle?” she said, nodding at the phone.

  Stone nodded. “It was bad enough we had him locked up,” he said. “I wasn’t about to let those DGRI wankers take him, too.”

  “Oh, for god’s sake, Stone. We talked about this.”

  “We didn’t talk about them,” Stone said, pointing after Namura. “He said it himself: They don’t even consider the lad a free soul anymore. You know what they would do, Olivia.”

  Olivia did know. She had seen the results of DGRI experimentation on a member of the Lycan bloodline in 1974. It had nearly caused a cold war been the DGRI and the Council of the Veil, but Olivia’s family and the newly formed Sentry Group had managed to negotiate a peace between them based largely on the DGRI agreeing to ban any sort of non-voluntary experimentation. So far as she knew, the government agency had been true to its word, but Namura had been right about the Council’s view on Israel Trent. They wouldn’t care what happened to him so long as he was put down.

  “What exactly did you do?”

  Stone spent the next couple of minutes filling her in on Israel’s release and the plan to make contact later. “I thought he’d be fast enough to get lost in Panola before Namura’s goblins reached the Hobbit Hole. I didn’t count on a team being there already.”

  Olivia lightly dropped a fist onto her desk. “So, he’s out there without any supplies, injured and almost certainly overcome with hunger. If he hasn’t turned already then he will soon, and if he finds a populated spot-”

  “I know,” Stone said. “I know.”

  “Find him, Stone. Find him before this thing escalates.”

  “I’ll put the word out.”

  “No,” Olivia said. “No. You, the Twins, a few more that you trust explicitly. Hiro knew far too much about the holding cells, right down to their exact location and what the staff had nicknamed them. That’s a bigger leak than I’m willing to tolerate, but we’ll deal with that later. Right now we prioritize Israel.”

  “And if the lad turned?”

  Olivia let out a slow, exhausted breath. “Give him what mercy you can.”

  Stone nodded and left the room. Olivia spent a few minutes in deep thought. Options and predictable or possible outcomes flowed through her mind. Finally, she pulled a keyboard from a tray under her desk and tapped a few keys. The doors to her office closed and she heard the click of heavy locks engaging. A few more key strokes and the large television on her wall flickered to life. Seconds later, a man dressed in a crisp and flawless gray silk suit appeared on it.

  “Hello, Sebastian,” Olivia said.

  The man on the screen smiled at her with a fondness she rarely saw. The teeth that showed in the smile all came to small, sharp points. His features were angular and long, which was common among those of the Fae bloodline. His hair, while short and neat, was the color of burnished copper and almost perfectly matched his oval eyes. “Miss Olivia,” he said with a slight southern drawl. “It is indeed a pleasure to see you.”

  “And you, Sebastian. How are you doing these days?”

  “Quite well, thank you. I just attended the ribbon cutting on my newest restaurant. It’s in Charlotte and we call it ‘The Wagon Road Seafood House’, trying to play on the city’s history and all. You should try it if you’re ever out that way.”

  “I will. Is The Arcane available?”

  “Oh dear, I knew this wasn’t a social call. He’s in a meeting but I know he wouldn’t mind being interrupted by you if you think it’s important enough. Might even appreciate it, come to think of it. The Infernal lobby is pushing for more freedom in the ‘adult entertainment’ arena.”

  “Of course they are,” Olivia said. “Yes, it’s important. Definitely more so than porn starlets with scaled skin and horns.”

  “Horn Porn,” Sebastian said with a slight giggle. “That’s what we’ve taken to calling it. You hold on, Miss Olivia. I’ll get him for you.”

  The screen went gray for a few minutes. Olivia waited patiently until it flickered to life again and a man’s face appeared. He was of an age with Olivia and had hair that was thick but solid gray and brushed straight back from a face that, while aged and sagging a bit, still carried the character and intelligence of his youth. He greeted her with a broad smile.

  “Olivia,” he said with a slight British accent, “thank you for calling. You rescued me from an hour of listening to how the Veil could be maintained with special effects technology. Makes me want to deafen myself.”

  “Hello, Arcane. You’re looking well.”

  “Uh oh,” he said. “You called me Arcane instead of Thomas.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning you only use my title when things are getting serious. What’s happened?”

  Olivia told him. She started with their investigation into the reports of the Progeny abducting random people, the Oceanside incident, Israel’s and Erin’s Awakening, and everything that had led up to their current conversation.

  When she finished, The Arcane of the Council of the Veil was no longer smiling,
but his eyes studied her with gentle concern. “First of all,” he said, “my condolences on Matthew’s passing. He was a good man.”

  Olivia thanked him.

  “Secondly, and as your friend, I have to say I understand your reasoning. If this Trent fellow maintained his reason and personality despite the Necrophage within him Awakening, then there is little doubt he is, indeed, a Paragon. The opportunity to learn from him, particularly with his cooperation, is a prodigious and once in many lifetimes opportunity.”

  “Buuut…” Olivia said.

  “But,” The Arcane said with a passing smile, “as Arcane, Stone’s actions have left me in a difficult position. A Necrophage Paragon, Olivia? He has the power to shred the Veil and end the world if he’s smart about it. Is that worth the potential benefits he offers? There is a very valid reason we put down all Necrophage.”

  “I know,” she said, “but the world isn’t the same as when Dracul rose. Conquest, kingdoms- these are not things that interest this man. If anything, I consider him a bit of a repressed scholar.”

  “Who could inadvertently create any manner of undead if he spits in the wrong place,” The Arcane said. “I trust your judgment of people, Olivia, but that in no way changes what he is. He must be found and dealt with one way or another. I can’t offer you support without bringing in the Council.”

  “I know,” she said. “I really just wanted you to hear all of this from me instead of some report.”

  “What of the other one? The female.”

  “Erin Simms,” Olivia said. “We have no idea where she is. I saw her vanish into thin air, Thomas. Literally vanish. Have you ever heard of a bloodline that could do that?”

  “No,” he said, with a slow shake of his head, “but I can get Sebastian to look into it. You know he loves his history.”

  “I’d appreciate that. Thank you.”

  The Arcane nodded his acknowledgment. “I can give you forty-eight hours before I say anything to the others. I can tell you now they’re going to push for a Bloodhunt, especially the Seraphim and the Lycans, but if you have him locked down by then, I’ll be able to hold them off. If not, things are going to get tense.”