“Dennis?” I croaked.
“Holy shit, Adam!” The face on the screen was his human face, and concern was written in every line. “How the hell are you still alive? That was—”
“I know,” I managed to gasp out. “We need…” I couldn’t speak any more. The pain was too great.
“Hang on buddy, I got people coming to get you. Just hang on, big guy, they’ll be there…” Anything else he said was lost as I toppled sideways to the ground and blackness filled my vision.
I woke on a hard surface in a bare room. It was as much a cell as a room, except there were no bars on the door. There was no door at all, just an arched entry into the tiny room, so I did not consider myself a prisoner in any way. It is usually better for the structural integrity of the building if my egress is not impeded. The floor was bare concrete, with a drain set in the center. I lay on a metal “bed” for lack of a better word, with a pillow of sorts under my neck. I looked up at the bright white fluorescent light, then at the stark walls, and let out a dry chuckle. I was in one of the cryptid autopsy rooms at Sisters of the Sword.
The Sisters were not just a militant arm of the Church and the home of the Hunter for the Gulf region. If that were not enough for one small collection of nuns, they also were, to a woman, research scientists dedicated to the study and understanding of cryptids, supernatural or paranormal or simply odd beings that defied conventional understanding of science in some way.
I had stood on the other side of one of these stone walls, watching via video feed, as a Sister had autopsied, or attempted to autopsy, a rogue vampire. It did not end well. The problem most humans have with studying the body of a deceased vampire is that such a thing does not exist. Vampires are already dead by definition, so when the magic that animates them is removed, they either crumble to dust, or if they are more recently turned, they explode in a shower of blood and gore.
You can’t really autopsy a vampire because it’s still alive after death. But you can, with the proper precautions, take tissue samples from an animate vampire to study. Most creatures take exception to being participants in vivisection, however, and vampires are very strong. In the case I witnessed, a pain-mad vampire who already had exhibited no compunction against taking human life, ripped his arms off to get free of his bonds, then chewed through the throat of the Sister attempting to perform the autopsy. It took four of us to put the vampire down, even with no arms. It only took two to dispatch the Sister once she turned. She was much fresher than the original vampire.
Now I found myself in a similar room, the major exception being the lack of door. I sat up and waved to the small video camera mounted in a corner. “Hello. Thank you for tending my wounds. I would like to speak to Sister Evangeline now.”
A tall nun in full wimple came into the doorway a few moments later. She was a severe-looking woman, the reputation of nuns as disciplinarians notwithstanding. She did not speak, simply gestured toward the open door.
As I stood, the sheet covering my lower body slipped to the floor, and I realized for the first time that I was nude. “Pardon me,” I said, retrieving the drape and fastening it around my waist. “I seem to have lost my clothes. The nun showed neither surprise nor disgust at the patchwork landscape of scars, stitches, and seams that made up my skin, so I merely hiked the sheet up to free my feet and passed through the doorway into the hall.
This passage felt somehow as if it were underground. The muffled sounds of our feet on the stone floor, the slightly musty smell that pervaded the entire area, and the light chill in the air all contributed to a sense of a tunnel or catacomb. It was well-lit with electric light, so there was no gloomy flicker of torchlight or choking smoke to sting my eyes. My feet slapped along the cool slate paving stones until I came to a door ahead of me.
I turned to my escort, who stopped several feet behind me. “I am to enter?”
She nodded.
I raised my hand and knocked. A cheery “Come in!” rang out from the other side of the door, and I lifted the handle and pushed on the thick iron-bound wooden door. The hinges swung noiselessly, and the thick oaken door glided open to reveal a library with a vaulted ceiling and a roaring fire in a fireplace.
Two armchairs sat on a round area rug before the fireplace, and a plump smiling nun occupied one of them. “Come in, come in, love. And close the door behind you. We don’t want to let Agatha’s chill follow you in!” The woman’s voice was bright and crisp, like sunlight dancing on water, and I felt something for her that I almost never felt when dealing with mortals, particularly those associated with religion. I trusted her and felt safe in her presence. Something resonated within me, making me feel as if no harm would come to me as long as I was with her. I felt an unfamiliar warmth on the flesh of my chest, and I looked down to see the medal Oliver’s granddaughter gave me lying on my bare skin.
The Purple Heart was glowing with a faint white light, just enough for me to see it. I touched the medal, and it was warm. Not the warm of being in contact with living flesh, as I give off very little heat, but a gentle radiance that came from the amulet itself.
“You are Oliver’s friend. Adam, I believe he said your name was.” I tore my eyes from the necklace and stared at the woman. She stood before her chair, her eyes fixed on mine.
“My name is Mother Eunice. I’m glad to see the child gave you that necklace. I think you’re going to need it. Please, sit down. We have quite a lot to talk about.”
9
“I am happy to join you, but before I do, may I have my pants?” I asked.
Eunice’s laughter was a thing to behold. It swelled from within her copious bosom like a geyser, rippling out from her in waves and infusing the entire room with joy. I smiled as she laughed, but I remained standing. I did, after all, want my pants.
“I am sorry, my son,” she said after a moment of mirth. “Your clothes were either burned horribly or torn to shreds in your fight with the demon. Then there’s the matter of the demon blood eating through much of the fabric, and your own blood soaking the remainder. There really was very little worth saving. We have nothing here to fit a man, much less a man of your size. Your friend Dennis is having some clothes delivered from your hotel. Once those arrive, they will be brought to you.”
“You have spoken with Dennis?” I asked.
“Oh yes, my son,” she said. She reached over to a table between the two chairs and held up my abused cell phone. “I would hand this to you, but I am aware of the lack of pockets in your current wardrobe.” She put the phone back on the table and motioned to the other chair. “Won’t you sit by the fire? I find these tunnels to be a little chilly, and it helps my arthritis to stay warm.”
I moved to the chair and sat, then asked, “If it is uncomfortable for you down here, why not simply work aboveground?”
She waved an arm around us at the bookshelves. “The books, love. I can’t take the books upstairs into the humidity. The Louisiana atmosphere would destroy this old paper in a heartbeat. We are digitizing everything as fast as we can, but it’s not a quick job. So as long as the collected knowledge of the Sisters resides here, I stay underground, and every once in a while, I stoke the fires with another copy of this drivel.” She gestured to a kindling box near the fireplace, where a stack of popular, and well-worn, romance novels stood. “I do, of course, have to read them all multiple times, just to make sure they’re drivel. Wouldn’t want to torch a literary masterpiece by mistake.”
“Perish the thought,” I said, feeling an unaccustomed smile stretch my features. Something about this funny little woman put me very much at ease. I found myself enjoying her company, with her romance novel habit and her arthritis. She was obviously hard at work down here, protecting the accumulated knowledge of her order, but she just as obviously loved her work.
I cleared my throat and drove on toward my initial purpose in New Orleans. “I had hoped to speak with Sister Evangeline,” I said. “Her assistance would be welcome in my current endeavor.”<
br />
“Finding the Horn of the Herald?” Mother Eunice asked. My face must have registered my surprise because she laughed again. “When I spoke with your digital friend,” she nodded to my phone, “he told me who you are and what you are doing here. We typically stay far from Council business, but this seems important. Evangeline isn’t here, however. She is hunting in the swamps. We have had several bodies appear in recent weeks, and the most recent was a teenage boy who went out frog gigging last weekend. His body was found Wednesday. His legs were not.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” I said. “Do you think you could help me?”
“Our archives and my knowledge are at your disposal, but Evangeline is the Arm of the Order. She is the only Sister who bears weapons. The rest are all pure researchers.”
This took me aback, and I let that show. “I was led to believe that the Sisters of the Sword were a military order.”
“We are,” Eunice replied. “But we are much more the weapon development side of the military. All our Sisters are trained in the arts of war, and all can bear arms if the situation warrants it, but unless the end times are truly upon us, Sister Evangeline is the only armed one among us.”
“So, I can use your library, but you won’t stand with me against whoever is calling demons in New Orleans,” I said.
“Unless His Holiness in Rome orders us to do so, which I doubt even your friend Luke could persuade Him to do.”
So she knew about Luke. That almost certainly meant they knew exactly who and what I was and had plans to deal with me if I became unruly. That put a damper on any arguments I had planned, so I switched tactics. “You knew Oliver?” I asked, pointing to the necklace I wore.
A sad smile crossed her face. “I did. We know most of the major practitioners in the city and have traded knowledge with them over the years. Oliver was a good man, and he cared deeply for his friends. He spoke often of you, wishing that you would visit more frequently.”
“I wish it, too, now.” I found the words to be true. No matter how diligently I worked to avoid human connections, the stolen heart in my chest kept drawing me back to the short-lived candles. It was just like a fire, warm and comforting right up to the second it burns. That is exactly how humans are to me. They are sources of such inspiration and joy, and the source of almost all my pain as well.
“I think whoever called the demon today is the same person that murdered Oliver,” I said. I hoped that this information would persuade Eunice to join my hunt for his killer.
“I believe you are almost certainly correct,” she said.
“And still you will not aid me?”
“I will lend you every bit of aid that we can. We have healed your wounds, added a number of impressive stitches to the patchwork quilt of your flesh, and I am here to walk you through our library in search of any information you need. But we will not become involved in your quest, either the one for vengeance or for the Horn.”
“Not vengeance,” I said. “Justice.”
“Be careful that you can tell the difference between the two,” she replied. “Many men cannot.”
“I have known both in my time,” I said, remembering the feeling of a delicate throat beneath my fingers. Murdering Victor’s bride had been vengeance. There had been no justice in taking her life. She never harmed me, and killing her did not balance accounts between my “father” and me.
“Do you know who this man is that is killing magic users in New Orleans?”
“I do not,” she replied.
“Do you know if he is the one who summoned the demon to attack Jermaine?”
“I do not,” she repeated. “But it seems likely.”
“Where is Jermaine?” I asked.
“He is here. We can keep him here, or you can take him to Evangeline. If this man is as dangerous as we believe, then it may be best if he is not within the city.”
“Where is Evangeline?”
“She’s up by Baton Rouge in the Atchafalaya Wildlife Refuge. There have been reports of a black gator up there that’s gone man-eater. She went up three days ago. We confirmed this morning that she is staying at a cabin in the swamp, hunting the creature.”
“I’ve never heard of a black gator,” I admitted.
“I would be surprised if you had. It is not a natural gator,” she said. “It’s a zombie gator. Some of the priestesses out in the swamp raise them up for security. They’re big, strong, and terrifying, but they tend to be very docile as long as their creator maintains tight control over them. That has not happened in this case, and several people were killed by the creature. Evangeline is also looking for the person who raised the alligator. She has expressed a desire to have a conversation with them.”
I was not surprised by this. I would be surprised, however, if the voodoo practitioner left the “conversation” unscathed. I had seen the results of Evangeline’s conversations before. They often featured brass knuckles, and once or twice, a shotgun.
“I will take Jermaine to stay with Evangeline in the morning,” I said.
“Why do you wish to wait? If you leave as soon as your clothes arrive, you could go and get to Evangeline before full dark.”
“Jermaine has a show tonight,” I said. “I would hate to deprive him of that income, particularly since part of his home was destroyed today.”
She smiled at me, a tight, mirthless grin. “And you think that the man you seek may come to this show, giving you an opportunity to kill him.”
“Killing a man in a crowded nightclub, even if the man murdered one of my few friends, is not something that I would consider a wise choice.” I paused and touched the medal hanging on a chain around my neck. “But I would not speak ill of fate should it place me in an alley with the man who attacked Oliver.” I offered up a mirthless smile of my own.
“Well, far be it from us to keep you from your chosen path of destruction, Adam.” She stood, and I got the distinct impression that I had disappointed her somehow. I felt a brief pang for that, but it subsided quickly. I have spent over a century disappointing people; it has become almost second nature to me.
“I will go to the club, watch Jermaine’s set, and make sure that he is not attacked and that the Horn remains safe. Tomorrow morning, we will set off to find Evangeline, and hopefully she will be able to keep him safe until the threat has been resolved.”
“You will not offend me if you use the word killed, Adam,” she said with a smile.
“I doubt you have such delicate sensibilities,” I said. “But some things are better left unsaid.”
Eunice stood and motioned for me to follow her. “Let me escort you to a room where you can change. I believe the delivery man should be here with your clothes by now.”
We stepped into the hall and walked down a different corridor than the one I had taken to her library. “Is there anything you can tell me about this medal?” I asked, fingering the heart with the cross affixed to it.
“I don’t know very much about it,” Eunice admitted. “I blessed the crucifix in the waters of our sanctuary, and I believe Oliver mentioned fashioning some protective spells into the medal, but if it possesses any mystical properties, I am unaware of them. Why? Does it bother you?”
“It doesn’t bother me, but when we first met, it glowed and grew warm to the touch, as if letting me know that you meant me no harm.”
I saw her nod, but could not see her face, walking behind her in the narrow hallway. “That seems like the type of protection Oliver would have imbued the medallion with. He was very concerned with some of your associations. He felt that many people would attempt to manipulate you, and that you may not always be sophisticated enough to see it, given the isolation you typically prefer.”
I closed my eyes against a rising tide of annoyance. Oliver spent decades working to convince me that Vlad was the monster the books made him out to be, and nothing I ever told him would change his mind. I had no doubt that he, or Harker, was the manipulator that Oliver intended to protect m
e against.
“Well, I don’t need a personal good intentions meter, but if it contains any additional protective capabilities, I would be a fool to discard it,” I said.
“It may well be the thing that kept you alive this afternoon by dissipating the demon warrior’s fire just enough for you to slay it.”
“I wouldn’t mind if it had dissipated a little of the piercing agony I had in my hands, but I suppose that is too much to ask,” I said.
“It is a very small necklace, Adam. It can only do so much.” She stopped before an unmarked door and opened it. A room very similar to the autopsy room I awakened in lay before us, but this one had a pair of shopping bags on the bed. I ducked through the doorway and turned back to Eunice.
“Thank you,” I said. “I appreciate your help. Were it not for your healing magics, I would undoubtedly be incapacitated, and that could prove ruinous to our quest. I do not wish to seem ungrateful, for I certainly am thankful for your aid.”
She smiled, a warm thing that spread across her face like dawn. “Of course, Adam. Some of us are required to walk a darker path while some of us are fortunate enough to stride through the light. Your path is a shadowed one, but you may take some of our light with you on your journey.” She reached out and placed a hand on my chest, covering the amulet Oliver left me. I felt the medal grow warm and saw a golden light bleed out through Eunice’s fingers.
“Go with God, Adam. May He watch over you always.” She turned and walked back down the hall as I stepped inside the room to dress.
“Thank you, Eunice,” I whispered as I closed the door. “But He might not want to see all the things I have to do in His name.”
10
I stepped out into the evening air, the muggy Louisiana heat fading with the moonrise, and pulled the new phone from my pocket. I pressed a button on the side, and Dennis’ unicorn face appeared.
Angel Dance: A Shadow Council Case Files Novella: Quest for Glory Part 3 Page 6
