by E A Comiskey
“What in tarnation?” Richard whispered.
Stanley pulled Maddie’s car right up to the front door. They got out with weapons and flashlights in hand.
The slam of car doors echoed in the vast open space. The only sign of life was a racoon that scurried by carrying some treasured bit of trash in its jaws.
With safeties off, they stalked through the front door that hung catawampus from one hinge into a dark space that smelled of mildew and ancient machinery oil.
“What happened here?” Richard asked. “I ain’t crazy. I know what I saw.” He swung his light from one end of the dank room to the other. Starlight twinkled above them, visible through gaping holes in the ceiling.
Stanley ran a hand over his shiny scalp, letting his gun hang limply at his side. “The Children of Cain did this. I can’t conceive of how they did it, but I know they did.”
“So, if the factory don’t exist, where’s my granddaughter?”
Stanley met his eye, but before he could answer, footsteps tapped against the concrete ribbon near the front door and three men entered. The one in front wore an expensive suit and shiny two-tone shoes. The two who flanked him looked like extras in an old Schwarzenegger movie, all muscles, no brain. Each sported an earpiece, aviator sunglasses, and slicked-back hair. The one on the left moved with the odd gliding motion unique to species who struggled to maintain the façade of humanity when in human company.
Stanley lifted his pistol. The lead man raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Please don’t shoot me. I had this suit custom tailored. We’re with The Children of Cain.”
As if the words created some kind of involuntary response, Richard raised his own gun and pulled the trigger. The bullet went wide and ricocheted with a whining ping. Thing Number One moved so fast he appeared to teleport and wrenched the weapon from Richard’s hand. Richard saw claws pop out of the fingertips raised over his face before someone made a weird girlie-sounding whimper.
“Stop that,” Mr. Fancysuit commanded.
The dark sunglasses slipped and Richard caught a clear view of green, vertically slit cat eyes glaring down at him. The thing released him and took a step back.
“We’re not here to fight you,” Fancysuit said.
“Too bad,” Stanley said. “We were just getting warmed up.”
Richard noticed then that Stanley lay sprawled on his back beneath the bulk of Thing Number Two.
“We had no part in the kidnapping of the girl. We’d like to offer our help.”
Richard looked to Stanley.
Stanley met his eye and shrugged. Thing Number Two leaped to its feet and held out a hand to help Stanley up.
“My name is Michael,” Bossman announced.
“Is it, really?” Stanley asked. Names held vast power. Most creatures were not quick to give up their true identity.
The corners of the man’s mouth twitched upward. “For all practical intents and purposes.” He made a little shooing gesture and his thugs backed away. He stood half a head shorter than either of them, an average guy in every visible way, just a freckled red head with a good stylist and enough money to have a tailor. Richard wondered what authority he held to command the powerful creatures who obeyed him without hesitation. “The Children of Cain would like to enlist a partnership.”
“We play for the other team,” Stanley said.
“You don’t even know what the name of the game is,” Michael told him. “I’m here to explain. After I do so, you can make a more informed decision.”
Stanley’s eyes narrowed on him. “If you really are one of them, you’d know I’ve thinned your ranks considerably over the years.”
“And so you’d be dead already under any other circumstances, but The Devil has issued a hands-off order and suggested that, with the woman Burke in the enemy’s hands, you may be just the man we need.”
At the mention of The Devil, Richard’s body offered up a wild cocktail of adrenaline and testosterone that caused his blood pressure to spike. The world tilted uncomfortably beneath his feet. The last time he’d seen her, the Supreme Master of Evil had been packed neatly into a pair of snug jeans and a gingham shirt that displayed a pair of finely crafted 38DD’s to excellent advantage. They’d tricked her and murdered one of her favorite monsters. He, Stanley and Burke couldn’t possibly be very high up her list of favorite humans.
“Perhaps you’d consent to take a ride with me,” Michael suggested. “Our mutual enemy has moved from this place, but their stink lingers. We can speak more comfortably elsewhere.”
The goons flanked Richard and Stanley, leaving little illusion of choice, even though they handed Richard’s pistol back. Richard understood that, in this situation, it had all the effectiveness of a cap gun. Apparently having come to the same conclusion, Stanley retrieved his own weapon from the floor and slipped it into the waistband of his pants. “Color me intrigued,” he said. “Lead the way.”
Michael inclined his head and led them away from the empty factory.
Thing One and Thing Two waited while the three men slipped into the back of the stretch limo. Richard took in the wide leather seats, subtle lighting, and full wet bar with wide eyes. He’d never seen the inside of one of these high falootin’ cars except on television. He couldn’t imagine why anyone would need such a form of transport, but he easily understood why they would want it. The leather on the seats was softer than a sneaker full of poop.
The door closed with a soft snick, locking them into a warm dark cave. Stanley folded his hands in his lap. “So, The Devil issued hands off. Can you tell me when she did this?”
The man sprawled across the seat opposite them. “Six months ago, maybe?”
“Any idea why?”
The man smiled, displaying deep dimples in his clean-shaven cheeks. One look at this guy and Maddie would be playing matchmaker faster than a chicken would pounce on a June bug. “Said she finds you entertaining.” He chuckled. “I can’t even imagine what you must have done to earn such high praise from her. Kudos for coming out of it alive.”
Stanley squirmed. Strictly speaking, he’d died in that conflict, at least for a little while.
“Anyway, in unrelated news, we have a situation that has spiraled somewhat. We consulted with her, as the highest authority, and she suggested we look you up.”
“By look me up, you mean corner me and kidnap me? Not exactly how you win friends and influence people,” Stanley said.
“And yet, here you are,” the man noted. “Exactly where I want you.”
Richard scratched the scruff on his cheek, wondering if he was supposed to figure out a way to kill this guy and escape, or take notes like a secretary, or what. His presence seemed distinctly secondary, and he found that rather disquieting. If they didn’t need him, they didn’t have much incentive to keep him alive.
The car had yet to move. The goons stood outside, breathing through their mouths.
“Let me guess,” Stanley said. “Your situation has something to do with Umbra. He’s gone rogue?”
The man chuckled again. “You really are an ignorant little speck, aren’t you? Running around in the woods staking wild vampires and assuming you’re making a difference.”
“Makes a difference to the one who’s neck is on the line.”
“Does it? I’m unconvinced. They’re going to die anyway. What matter if it’s today or tomorrow?”
“The same could be said of you,” Stanley pointed out. “All of us end this journey, eventually. Some just travel longer than others.”
Michael tipped his head as if considering. “Touché.” He tapped neatly manicured nails against his knee. “You’re half right. It’s Umbra.” His eyes darted right and left, revealing the first hint of nervousness.
The hairs on the back of Richard’s neck stood on end. Merely mentioning Umbra set a fellow like this Michael on edge? They’d definitely wandered up the creek without a paddle. This was entirely different territory than chasing a chupacabra away from some little Podu
nk village on the edge of nowhere.
“Umbra’s not a ‘he,’ though. Not anymore. Some time ago, he passed the mantel on to his daughter. She’s the scariest bitch you’ll ever meet. She makes your Queen of the Damned look like a kitten.” He picked at an invisible piece of lint and flicked it away. “All well and good as long as she was on our side.”
“You two have a lover’s spat?” Stanley asked.
Michael’s dark eyes crinkled at the corners. “Nah. I’m not her type. She might take to Burke, though. I hear she’s quite attractive.”
Richard clenched his fists.
The man went on, either not noticing or not caring about the reaction his words stirred. “They say power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely.”
Stanley concluded, “And no one on Earth is more powerful than the one who calls the shots for The Children of Cain.”
“And the Umbra family has done so for much longer than you suspect. It was an Umbra who chose the site for the tower of Babel. It was an Umbra who decided which side would win the crusades.”
Richard dug into his memory for facts learned in a history class way back in the days when said facts were scrawled on a blackboard by a teacher who used the flat side of a ruler to keep students in line. Who had won the crusades, anyway?
“For centuries, they ruled with wisdom and discretion. The very fact of their family’s age and continuous reign are proof of their gifted leadership. Upon her father’s pronouncement, Miss Umbra held in the palm of her pretty little hand, all the power of every creature on Earth. Then, one day not so very long ago, she met Jones.”
“The good lookin’ guy on the news?” Richard asked.
The other two men turned toward him as though surprised to find him still sitting there.
Michael recovered quickly. “One and the same. He convinced her that all the power of every creature on earth was not enough, not when there is more to be had.”
“She commands the shadows,” Stanley murmured under his breath.
“Shadow demons, among other things,” Michael agreed. “The Children of Cain have long trafficked with the many, varied beings on Earth, but we understood there are doors that are closed to humankind, for good reason. Those doors ought not be opened. Not ever. Not even by one such as Umbra. Maybe especially not by one such as her.” He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “She’s founded a new organization, the Daughters of Kali, and they’ve opened the doors. They’re playing with forces no beings of flesh can hope to maintain control over. It can only end in catastrophe.”
Richard had followed the back and forth between the two men well enough, but there was one question that they didn’t seem to be addressing. “What’s all that have to do with flying to Mars?”
Michael leaned back. One dark brow lifted. “They’re not just flying to Mars, old man. They’re building a colony there.”
“Yeah, well, that’s good then, right? They’re taking their troubles right out of this old world.”
The man looked at Stanley. “I’d expect someone with your reputation to have chosen a cleverer sidekick.”
“It’s not an invalid point that Dick’s making,” Stanley said.
Richard felt a little flutter that might have been something like gratitude at Stanley’s loyalty.
“It’s a military base. A breeding colony.” Michael paused and looked back and forth between them. “It’s a farm.”
“A world where creatures rule and humans are no more than cattle,” Stanley said.”
Michael gave a tiny nod.
Stanley connected the next dot. “And they want to take Burke with them.”
“She’s got valuable skills as a programmer. She’s strong and, while not an ideal age, not yet so old as to be of no use. When that nitwit assistant brought the partner of the venerable Stanley Kapcheck to the launch party, he gained a status his puny little mind had never conceived of. In a single evening, he was elevated from glorified receptionist to big man on campus. Granted favor. Guess what wish he asked for?”
“Burke’s affection. It’s why she agreed to go with him a second time,” Richard said, remembering how he’d wondered at her bizarre behavior the morning Albert showed up at Maddie’s place.
Michael made a little gun of his thumb and pointer finger and fired it in Richard’s direction with a click of his tongue. “Bingo. Your girl, Burke, has met her magic man, quite literally. She’ll never come home to you willingly unless you kill the little rat. You’ve got three days until launch.”
“What do you want us to do?” Stanley asked.
He spread his hands wide. “I should think it would be obvious. We want you to stop the launch. Blow the whole operation to hell. It won’t stop them forever, but it will slow them down long enough for us to put some power players into key positions. We’re confident, from that point, we’ll be able to restore the balance.”
“By balance, you mean you’ll be in power again. Would you deny that this vision of humans as cattle is any different in your organization?”
Michael’s grin returned, the dimples even deeper. “Ah, Stanley. You are entertaining.” He shrugged. “At least in our way of doing things, you’re free-range cattle.”
Richard stared down at his hands, which trembled on his skinny knees. Fear, rage and confusion blew around his brain like the stormy gray clouds of a thunderhead. “We have to save her. I have to. She’s in this because of me.” Six months ago, he’d been the one to call Burke for help in their moment of need. No way would he abandon her in her time of need. If that meant facing an army of shadow demons with their very own rocket ship, so be it. He’d find a way. Stan Kapcheck could do as he chose.
Stanley gave his shoulder a quick, reassuring squeeze. “Tell us what we need to do.”
Michael fingered a switch on the door and the window sank with a hiss. “We need to take these men to storage and have them properly outfitted.”
The goon closest to the car nodded and they both climbed into the front seat. The limo floated out of the parking lot as if the tires hovered above the blacktop.
Richard glanced at his wristwatch. They’d already been gone for two hours. Maddie was going to be hysterical by the time they got home. Assuming, of course, they actually managed to return home. At that point, he was all too aware that there were no guarantees.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Albert
The biggest room in the hidden, subterranean portion of the Coleum Corporation Tower was the war room. Made of reinforced steel with imbedded signal-disrupting magnets, it also sported rows of light boards across the door and walls. At the flip of a switch, sigils could be turned on or off, allowing whichever species was desired to enter and exit at will, or preventing them from doing so. Tubes made of titanium and filled with salt lay across the entrance and the single air vent.
Albert allowed the thing in his brain to take control. It kept the sheer panic in check. Two creatures with fangs, one with wings, three with yellow eyes, and what appeared to be two humans all focused on John Jones. Something else was in the room. His brethren—murderous, loathing of this place and of the task before them—were bound by magic unlike any they’d seen before. They were helpless to fight the power of their master, slaves to Jones and the one whom he served.
“The mission to capture the hunters was a complete failure,” Jones stated in his matter-of-fact way.
The thing inside Albert squirmed. He’d been given a direct order: bring the hunters back, dead or alive. He hadn’t done it. Failure was the same as disobedience, and no crime ranked more foul than disobedience.
Jones asked the question the Albert-thing had been waiting for. “What are we going to do about that?”
“I have an idea, sir.”
“Do you, Al? Fantastic. Please share it with the group.”
All attention turned on Albert, but he was ready. The thing inside and he agreed. It was a fantastic idea. “We need to go to Burke’s mother’s house. They
don’t know where Burke is, and they won’t leave the area without her. They’ll go back to the house and we can capture them there. The old lady might even prove to be good leverage after the other two are disposed of.”
“How many times in the next few days do you think we’ll need to divert resources from our primary operations to deal with this particular Charlie Foxtrot, Albert?”
“I don’t need a lot. I need a driver who’s good with a gun and permission to call my brothers.”
Jones laughed. “You’re mad. I’m not giving you permission to call upon the legions at your will.”
“I don’t need the legions. Give me—” Albert paused to calculate. The hunters were old, but preternaturally good at their job. Maddie was a non-factor. The driver would be a help. “Give me a dozen. I can utterly overwhelm them with a dozen.”
“A dozen.”
“Yes, sir.”
The two men stared at each other until Albert broke and looked away.
“Do you think you’ll be able to manage subduing three senior citizens with the help of only a dozen powerful supernatural entities?” Jones asked.
A deriding snicker passed through the creatures seated at the table.
“I will destroy them,” Albert promised.
“For your sake, I do hope so,” Jones replied. “Take what you need then and do not disgrace me again.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Richard
Michael and Stanley launched into a verbal tennis match of questions and answers about shadow demons and ancient, cursed weapons, warded armor and repelling skills.
Richard closed his eyes and turned his hearing aid down in an attempt to form a decent thought. Something flitted around the edge of his consciousness, and the faster he chased it, the farther away it flew. Burke was always pushing her New Age ideas about breathing and meditation on him. He suspected that having been a better student would have served him well, but he tried his best. With his head back against the seat, he took a series of big breaths that made his belly swell like an overblown beachball.
