“Damn, go ahead without me,” he stage-whispered from the other side of the fence.
“They’ll want all of us, you’re almost seven feet tall, just flop over,” I replied, but right about then, the screaming started. Human screams at first, then higher pitched, inhuman howls. I glanced at my magically repaired phone: it read 00:02. Shit. The tourists. That little boy. The vampires were awake—and they’d be hungry.
“Jack, stay where you are. There’s a group of tourists hiding by the gate, the vampires are up, and they’re going to tear them apart, there’s a little boy…we’ve gotta go back!” I yelled, my words rising to a frenzied pitch as my nightmare visions came true.
“The hell you are,” Jack growled, and a heavy, military surplus backpack appeared out of the darkness and smacked me in the face. Before I could respond, Jack had taken off down the hill like a rhinoceros in heat, crashing through the underbrush and drawing renewed fire.
I looked in the backpack—Jack had given me the Sigilum. “We have to go—”
“No, we have to get to Kensington and Chelsea Cemetery and put these creatures back to sleep,” Mia commanded, her crisp, aristocratic English snapping out with an assumption that she would be obeyed. She matched actions to words, and before I could answer, she was trotting long-leggedly down the small road that ran along the cemetery boundary, a pistol gripped confidently in her hands.
I followed along behind Mia. “How can you leave the vampires on the loose?” I asked, trailing smoothly behind her, all of my muscles feeling fresh after my trip to the Dreamscape.
Mia glanced over her shoulder at me, rolled her gray eyes, and whispered, “I’ve been a loyal member of the Sons of Perseus my entire life. I would never leave those people defenseless. I promised to bring you a large number of well-armed, well-trained agents, and that’s just what I did.” To underscore her words was the chatter of over two dozen semiautomatic weapons opened up in Highgate. I understood then just how cold Mia had been—after the Sons had turned on her, she had used herself as bait and managed to lure the backup here, leading them into a buzz saw of fangs and gore. Even in the warm summer evening, I felt a sudden chill.
Leaves and branches crashed to our right, back toward the cemetery, and Mia and I froze, taking cover pressed up against trees that were a couple of yards apart. The crashing noises resolved into footsteps, and a figure lurched into the road, trailing dirt. The figure took another couple of steps, moving into the glow from a street light, and I saw that it was a man. He had brown muttonchop sideburns and wore an ochre vest over a stained shirt that might have been white once and bell bottoms. His eyes glinted red, and I watched his nostrils flare. He brought a hand to his mouth—literally. The vampire slurped at the ragged end like a child trying to get the last bit of slushy from the bottom of his cup. I thought of the screams that I’d heard. Screams that probably came from people who were my coworkers only a few hours ago, who I might have had a drink with last week. This vampire needed to die. I reached for my powers, but before I could do anything, Mia spoke up.
“Excuse me, but do you have the acquaintance of Mr. Newton?” Mia asked in a tone that would have been more appropriate to someone asking directions on a busy high street.
“What?” the vampire said in a voice made glutinous by the half-congealed liquid running down his throat. The creature charged Mia from a couple dozen yards away, moving at the speed of an Olympic sprinter.
Mia ignored the question and held up one hand. “Let me acquaint you with him. Asshole.” She switched to a language that was never made for human throats and choked out something that sounded like, “Ptah, nyah nyah. S’kraptrix, shub shub shub, tindalos t’ptah ai ai ai!” As the last syllable rang out, she made a slashing motion with her upraised hand, and I felt a sense of vertigo like I was on a fairground cyclotron that was pulling me in two directions at once. I think that the vampire felt the same thing because his eyes went wide and he stumbled—just before his legs flattened down to the ground like a beer can under a redneck’s boot heel and his upper half exploded, fountaining into the air to patter down around us a few moments later.
I looked at Mia, my jaw hanging open. “Did you just control gravity?”
The touch of a satisfied smirk turned up the corners of her mouth. “You don’t get to be a Auditor in the Sons of Perseus by collecting bottle caps, you know.” She took a step forward and almost fell before I could grab her elbow to steady her.
We reached Mia’s car, moving much more slowly as she recovered, without further incident. “Maybe I should drive?” I said, concerned at the way she wobbled as she made her own way to the driver’s side.
“Nice try, Mr. Adler.”
I climbed into the passenger seat of the Aston-Martin. The big engine roared to life, we rocketed around the first bend—and the wall in front of us exploded. Mia slammed on the brakes, but I felt us hit something with a meaty thwack, and both airbags deployed. Dust and smoke swirled inside and outside of the car, making it hard to see anything more than a couple of feet away.
“What the hell was that?” I asked Mia, coughing and cradling a bloody nose.
Mia rubbed her eyes and blinked, trying to clear her vision. Based on the egg-sized knot on her forehead, I didn’t think that was going to work. “If one had to guess, one might hazard that that was a rocket-powered grenade hitting a 150-year-old wall,” she muttered, a trace of an ever-so-slightly foreign accent slipping into her concussed speech.
“Who in the hell would be firing an RPG?” I asked.
“The better question would be: ‘Where’s the thing that they were firing it at?’”
As was ever so typical lately, the answer to that question made itself known in the most terrifying way possible as the front of the car started to lift. Obviously, they’d been firing at a vampire, and we’d just run it over.
“Bloody hell,” Mia muttered, and I heard the chunk of the pistol’s slide action being worked as the front of the car jerked up and then dropped back to the ground with a jolt. I held the “oh shit” handle on the door, so I was okay, but Mia’s head smacked on the steering wheel again; she groaned and went still.
I reached over and snatched her pistol from the floor of the car just in time for the vampiress to grasp the door handle and yank. I quickly slammed the lock down, but she countered my clever stratagem by punching through the light aluminum-composite panel and ripping the door off. I had a second to take in the vampiress. She was about five foot six, with blond hair and light-colored eyes. Her figure looked more athletic than curvaceous under a black sweater and denim skirt—oh, and she was covered in gore. Red-black ichor dripped down her chin, was splattered over her face, and caked her arms, chest, and hands. She held the door and hissed at me. Now, I grew up in Wisconsin, and we have our fair share of poisonous snakes, so I did what I’d been taught as a boy; I shot whatever was hissing first and asked questions later. Mia’s pistol, a .45 special, barked three times, the vampire jerked from the impact of the big rounds, and she hit the ground hard, groaning. I glanced at Mia for a moment, but when I glanced back, the vampire was gone. Shit.
I’ve watched a lot of horror movies over the years; I think of them as “training videos,” so I was pretty sure that I knew what was going to happen next. I slid down in my seat as low as I could and drew my gladius. I only had to wait about ten heartbeats before my instincts were proven right by a screech of tearing metal as the vampiress slammed her fingers through the roof of the car. If I hadn’t ducked down, I reckon I would have been staring down at my own neck stump, but as things were, I lashed out with the razor-sharp sword. The dream-forged steel sang through the air, and I hardly felt any resistance as it sheared through the protruding forearms. The vampire emitted a noise like two cats making love in a tumble dryer and pulled her spurting stumps out of the car.
I figured that my only chance to put her down was relentless attack, so I grabbed my AK-47 and exited through the conveniently empty, door-shaped hole in the
car. The dust and smoke from the RPG/wall demolition/car crash was clearing, so I was able to spot the monster about ten yards away. She was motionless, staring down at her hands as the ends of her fingers finished growing back. Cheating-ass negative entropy-attuned monsters. I pulled up the gun and squeezed the trigger.
A stream of bullets leapt out of the muzzle and slammed into the vampiress, making her grunt and knocking her to the ground. She did one of those ninja-flip things back onto her feet and lunged at me. She made it three steps, stumbled, and looked down. The holes that the bullets had made were already healed, but suddenly smoke curled up from the punctures, and she fell to the ground, writhing in pain. I sighted on her again and stitched a line of bullets across her chest. Every hit was followed by a blossom of white flame.
“Enjoy the silver bullets, leech,” I growled, proud of the anti-vampire measures that I’d prepared in the Dreamscape. The vampiress looked up at me, hatred in her eyes, and I took aim right between said eyes, ready to deliver the coup de grace.
“Freeze, freak,” an alto voice rang out behind me.
I froze, and Agent Paula Smith, dressed in paramilitary gear from head to toe, including a pair of night-vision goggles and a camouflage sling for her injured wrist, stuck an 9mm pistol in my face.
“Look, we’re on the same side. You have to let me finish her. You know how dangerous those things are,” I said, being careful not to make any sudden move. Half-a-dozen more Sons agents, including one with an RPG, trotted up and fanned out around me.
She waved the gun in my face. “All I know is that the Chapter Master told us that we had to take you in. Get on the ground.” I glanced at the vampire. Or at least where it had been a moment before. Shit. I did just what the agent asked and dropped to the ground. All 120 pounds of bloodsucker lurched out of the shadows and pounced on Paula. There was a crackle of bones snapping, a spray of blood, and the other agents opened fire. The cacophony of a half-dozen automatic weapons was deafening, and I heard bullets ricocheting wildly, so I crawled over to the car, put my head between my legs, and kissed my ass good-bye. An arm thumped to the ground next to me, and I closed my eyes. After about twenty seconds, the fire slackened off and then stopped. I ventured to look up.
“Are you ready to save the city yet, oh great and brave hero?” Mia asked drolly. I peered around—the vampiress was lying on the ground, dead, with a stake through her heart. Three of the Sons’ agents, including Paula, were down. Of the other three, one was nursing a clearly dislocated arm, but he didn’t look as uncomfortable as the dark-haired young woman, with Chinese or maybe Korean features, who stepped forward to address Mia.
“Auditor Mia Noel. I’m Senior Agent Darcy. I’ve—I’ve been ordered to arrest you,” the woman, who had a slight Hong Kong-English accent, said, her voice trembling as she started to raise an MP5 in Mia’s direction.
“Tell me: on whose authority?” Mia commanded, her tone brooking no objection.
Darcy unconsciously snapped to attention. “On the orders of Chapter Master Cole.”
Mia paced in front of the three agents like she was a drill sergeant inspecting troops on parade. Her voice started quietly but rose in volume as she spoke to the men and women in front of her. “Chapter Master Cole has been taken by the enemy. They want us weakened. You saw what happened in the Bank last fall. You saw what happened in Cairo this spring. It’s getting bad. I’ve fought the forces of evil my whole life. I’ve helped take down my own father. I’ve given everything that I have to the Sons of Perseus. Don’t doubt me. Join me. Together, we’ll be a light in the darkness!”
There was a cheer from the shadows, and a dozen members of the Sons that I hadn’t even realized were there, including my long lost triad-mate Bensen, appeared from concealment on the side of the road. I gave him a quick wave.
Darcy stepped forward. “We’ll follow you. There’s no way that we should be wasting our time hunting down our colleagues, our friends, when there are three dozen vamps loose in London.”
“Three dozen? I thought that there were nearly fifty?” I asked.
“There were,” the injured agent, who was cradling his arm, said with a weary, lopsided grin. I was impressed but also saddened at the thought that each vampire killed also cheapened Gerald’s long years of sacrifice.
“Yes, and there were nearly sixty of us chasing Mia. Now there’s just the three of us still together,” Senior Agent Darcy said, and turned to the newly arrived Sons. “Did you come with any new orders?”
“Well, sir, we didn’t exactly come on anyone’s orders,” a short man said, and a crackle of electricity leapt between his fingers. “But we came in order to push back against the night. If you lead, Auditor, then we’ll follow.” There were nods all around the circle.
“We need to get back into the fight before the vampires disperse and start butchering the city.” Mia proceeded to issue a staccato stream of directions for half a minute while I considered the situation. Cooper was dead, Mia had slid back into her role as an Auditor, and Jack was missing. I still had the Sigilum, though, leaving me to wonder if Dana and Badger had made it to Kensington and Chelsea Cemetery safely. They’d left their phones off to avoid being tracked, but I still would have expected to have seen at least some reinforcements from Badger’s Antiquities Department by now.
“Excuse me, can you please tell me if you know why this place isn’t swarming with police?” I interrupted, causing over a dozen pairs of eyes to focus on me.
“The Chapter Master told us that he’d called in some favors to divert the police tonight,” Senior Agent Darcy said.
“But the Sons didn’t have any favors to call in,” I said.
“The Chapter Master has an entirely different circle of friends to call on for favors now,” Mia said, her voice filled with regret.
“Damn,” I spat. If the police were against me, then I couldn’t risk getting back into a car—it would be too easy for them to pull me over. But I had to get to the cemetery. I turned back to Senior Agent Darcy. “Also, you haven’t seen an enormous, fabulously dressed private eye running around, have you?”
Senior Agent Darcy looked sheepish. “Yeah, we did see someone like that. He was on our list to arrest, and when we followed him, he led us straight into a pack of vampires attacking some tourists. We chased them off and then took him into custody. Ummm…Agent Paula told us not to worry about being too gentle. He’s probably back at HQ by now.” Some of the attuned murmured, but a glance from Mia quieted them.
“Okay. Thanks.” I knew that I had to get going to the cemetery, and by the same token, it was obvious that Mia’s path lay elsewhere. I turned to her. “I’ll see you on the other side of the night.”
She nodded in understanding. “I’ll handle this, and I’ll see what I can do for Jack,” she assured me, so I burst into a pell-mell sprint. London underground, here I come.
Chapter 25
0030–0130, Thursday, June 23, 2016
If New York is the city that never sleeps, London is the city that gets a good kip in. So even though I ran all the way to the station, I had to dive through the doors to catch the last train south, and I only caught that because it was running five minutes late. Today had been a whirlwind, and there were a lot of things that I was going to need to process. For example: How would I be affected long term by healing myself in the Dreamscape (I really hoped it didn’t involve tentacles), and what would I do if I kept seeing the future? However, I really needed to focus on what was going on now and what I needed to do next.
I was still energized from my trip to the Dreamscape; my body felt great, but my skin was covered in goosebumps despite the summer heat. I was alone. Again. Just as I’d been in my final vision. I leaned against the back door of the carriage, trying to look casual, and scanned the train. I saw the usual mixture of drunks, late-night workers, and lost tourists, but I didn’t see any sign of pursuit, supernatural, shadowy secret society, or otherwise.
I reached Tottenham Court Road wit
hout any problems and hiked across to the Central Line platform, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible while concealing a semiautomatic weapon, a sword, and several grenades under a trench coat during a warm summer night. Being London, there was a good chance that I could get away with it. For the sake of my fellow Londoners, I was relieved when I made it to the other underground train without needing any of my weapons, and managed to get my favorite seat—one of the leaning ones at the end of the train.
Once I was safely settled in for the ride back to Ealing Broadway, I gave the empty car a quick scan and took the opportunity to mentally prepare for what was coming next. When I got out at the end of the line, I’d still have a solid two-mile journey to Kensington and Chelsea Cemetery. Sloane didn’t necessarily know where I was going, but he knew I’d be somewhere in the area, so I could expect him to try to intercept me—provided he was still after the Sigilum. He had left it at Highgate, and he was a vampire now. That kind of thing tends to change a man. Or so I’ve heard. Even if Sloane wasn’t after the Sigilum, there was still the issue of the Sons and the police to worry about. I’d enjoyed being on the side of the establishment for a while, but I should have known that it wouldn’t last. A lot of things in my life didn’t seem to be lasting at the moment.
God, I missed my little girl.
But I still had my wife, and she trusted me to get the big lump of wax hidden in my backpack to her so that we could complete the ritual to help our child—but didn’t things change now that Edward Sloane had been turned? The option was still there to use it for ourselves…however, people had died to help me get the opportunity to stop the vampires. But I’d promised Dana to help our child, and did a little, unborn baby deserve to suffer? Hell. It wasn’t just a little, unborn baby. It was my little, unborn baby. I had to weigh that up against the lives of hundreds, maybe thousands of strangers. If I had to choose to sacrifice myself to protect my child, I would in a heartbeat—I’d made that choice before. However, sacrificing my child to protect others? I didn’t know if I could do that. If I was meant to save London, then why wasn’t I given a damn sight more power to do it with? In the Dreamscape, I could stride around like an all-conquering hero. Here I was just one small step up from an average schmuck. Still, this slightly above-average schmuck needed to run the gauntlet from Ealing Broadway to Kensington and Chelsea Cemetery in Hanwell.
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