by Will Hill
“You spared me?”
“I spared you. And you saw what I got for my trouble.”
Jamie looked at her. Her grey shirt was torn in places, stained almost black with blood, but she wore it with nonchalant confidence. Her faded blue jeans were also torn, and the scuffed toes of brown boots protruded from beneath the denim.
Her dark hair was long, swept carelessly away from her forehead. Her face was – beautiful, she’s so beautiful – a slim oval, her eyes wide, the dark brown irises sparkling under the fluorescent lighting of her cell. Her nose was small, too pointed to be classically perfect, but in keeping with the slender aspect of her features. Blood coated the bottom half of her face, garish against the milky white skin, obscuring the shape of her lips. Streaks of crimson caressed her neck.
She coughed, pointedly, and he shook his head, trying to focus on what he needed to do.
“Why did you spare me?” he asked.
She smiled again.
“I didn’t feel like killing you,” she replied. “That’s not really sparing me, is it? That’s just not feeling like it.”
“Semantics.”
“Not to me.”
She looked away from him, inspecting her bloody fingernails, shifting her weight from one leg to the other. When she looked back at him her smile was more dazzling than ever, and Jamie felt something flutter through his stomach.
“So you’re not going to let me out?” she asked.
“I can’t let you out, even if I wanted to. I don’t have any authority here.”
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“Even with your famous surname? Oh well. That’s a shame.”
They eyed each other through the shimmering UV field, and Jamie asked her the first of the two questions he really wanted her to answer.
“Why were you trying to kill me?”
Larissa narrowed her eyes.
“I wasn’t trying to kill you. If I’d wanted to kill you, you’d be dead.”
“So you weren’t trying to kill Matt either?”
“Who’s Matt?”
“The boy whose garden you landed in. The one whose throat you pulled out with your fingernails. He’s in a coma upstairs.”
“Good for him. Maybe he’ll pull through.”
“Hopefully. So why did you attack me? What did I ever do?”
“Orders.”
“From who?”
“From my master.”
A chill danced up Jamie’s spine, and he remembered the thing in the grey coat that had let itself into the house he had shared with his mother. He remembered the pale madness on its face, the way it had leapt into the air when Frankenstein fired his huge weapon, before it disappeared into the sky like a missile.
“Alexandru,” he said, softly, and Larissa flinched. “You know his name?” she asked. Her voice had lost a touch of its easy confidence.
“I was told it,” he replied.
“By the monster?”
“By Frankenstein, if that’s who you mean. Who is he? Alexandru.”
The smile returned to her face.
“They didn’t tell you?” she asked.
“Just his name,” he replied.
“He’s the second oldest vampire in the world,” she said, with obvious relish. “His brothers are the first and third. He’s more powerful than you can imagine.”
“Like how powerful?”
“Like a God. Like that powerful.”
“I don’t believe in God.”
She smiled at him again, and this time Jamie saw the white triangles below her upper lip, and he shivered.
“You should,” she said. “You really should.”
For several minutes neither of them spoke. Jamie lowered himself to the ground and crossed his legs, looking directly at her. After a few seconds, she mirrored him, and they sat like this for a while. They did not smile at each other, not exactly, but they did not scowl or frown either. Jamie was concentrating on projecting calm, but inside he was a maelstrom of anger and frustration.
She’s not your friend, you idiot. Why are you talking to her like she is, you stupid, stupid idiot? She might have killed you twice yesterday, and she might know where your mother is. Snap out of it, for God’s sake. Make her tell you what you need to know.
When he finally spoke, he did so bluntly.
“Is my mother alive?” he asked, taking care not to let his voice tremble at the thought. Larissa sat forward and brushed strands of dark hair away from her face.
“I would think so,” she replied.
Calm, calm.
“You don’t know?”
“She was alive when I met up with them after it was over. But then Alexandru got a tiny bit angry with me for not killing you, so I got torn to pieces and dropped out of the clouds into some family’s garden. So after that, no, I don’t know.”
She smiled at him, and her tongue darted out and licked a tiny spot of blood from her lower lip. He tried to ignore it.
“Where would he have taken her?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Larissa shrugged. “That’s your prerogative. But it’s the truth. Only Alexandru and Anderson knew where we were going next.”
“Who’s Anderson?”
“Alexandru’s right-hand man. Simple, but vicious. Like a guard dog.”
“So you don’t know anything that can help me?”
“I know where they were until yesterday. And I know how to find out where they are now.”
“How?”
“By asking someone nicely.”
“Asking who?”
“That would be telling.”
“Yes. It would. So tell me.”
“I can’t,” she replied.
Anger surged through Jamie. “Why not?” he asked, his voice rising. He couldn’t help it.
“Because then you won’t come back and see me.”
“This isn’t a game!” Jamie exploded. “This isn’t funny! My mother’s life is in danger!”
Larissa’s eyes flashed red, then settled back to their dark brown.
“That’s right,” she said, in a voice like ice. “Her life. Not my life. Just a single, anonymous human life. What difference will it really make if she lives or dies?”
“All the difference in the world to me!” Jamie bellowed. “Tell me where she is! Right now!”
She sighed, and rolled her eyes.
“Such bravery,” she said, softly. “From behind an impenetrable barrier.”
“I’d open this cell right now if I could,” Jamie spat. “I’d kill you with my bare hands.”
“No,” Larissa said, looking at him with terrible sadness. “You wouldn’t. And you know it. You’re not a killer. Not like me. If you arrange for my release, I will take you to the person who can tell us where your mother is. If you won’t, or can’t, then I’m afraid you’re on your own.”
Tears rose in the corners of Jamie’s eyes, and he stumbled to his feet. He walked quickly, almost running, down the corridor away from her, determined that she would not see him cry.
Her voice floated down the cellblock after him.
“Come back soon,” she cried, her tone warm and friendly. “I’ll be waiting.”
Chapter 14
SPLINTER CELL
By the time he stepped out of the lift on Level 0, Jamie had more or less pulled himself together. His eyes were red, but that was as much a result of rubbing them dry as it was the tears that had spilled from them. A soldier in black armour walked down the corridor towards him, and Jamie asked if he knew where he could find Admiral Seward. The soldier looked surprised at the request, but he told him where the Director’s quarters could be found. Jamie thanked him, then made his way down a grey corridor that looked like all the others.
In front of the door to Admiral Seward’s quarters was another soldier, his black uniform covered in armour plates and webbing, the purple visor of his helmet lowered over his face. He saw
Jamie as soon as he turned the corner.
“Identify yourself,” the soldier said. He did not raise his gun, but his right index finger rested steadily on the outside of the trigger guard.
“I’m Jamie Carpenter,” he replied.
The soldier distanced his finger from the trigger, reached up and flipped open the purple visor.
My God. He’s only a few years older than me.
“Say again,” the guard said, a strange look on his face, a look that Jamie didn’t like at all.
“I’m Jamie Carpenter,” he repeated. Disgust curdled on the guard’s face. He strode down the corridor towards him, and Jamie took a step backwards, his hands rising involuntarily in front of him in a placatory gesture. The soldier backed him against the wall, and leant in until his face was inches from Jamie’s own.
“Carpenter?” the guard hissed. “Is that what you said? Carpenter?”
Terrified, and incredibly aware of the heavy black gun hanging inches from his body, Jamie nodded.
“And you have the nerve to be standing here? In this building?”
Jamie didn’t reply; he was too scared to speak. He stared straight into the cold, hard face of the guard, then a voice he recognised called down the corridor.
“Stand down, soldier.”
The guard and Jamie looked in the direction of the voice, their heads turning in unison. Admiral Seward stood in the open door to his quarters. Behind him, looming above the Director, was the enormous shape of Frankenstein.
The soldier stood up straight, but did not back away.
“Sir, I must protest,” he began. “This is the son of—”
“I know perfectly well who he is, Private,” interrupted Seward. “Now stand down, son. That is a direct order.”
The guard stepped back into the middle of the corridor and stood to attention, facing the Admiral. His face wore a look of blazing anger, but he said nothing more.
Seward stepped out into the corridor, holding the door open.
“Come in, Mr Carpenter,” he said. “We have much to discuss.”
Admiral Seward sat behind the long desk on one side of the room, while Jamie and Frankenstein occupied the two armchairs next to the fireplace. Jamie glanced at the huge man next to him, who favoured him with a thin smile.
“Jamie Carpenter,” said Seward. “I would like to welcome you to the headquarters of Department 19. Or Blacklight, as it has always been called by those who are aware of its existence.”
Blacklight. I feel like I’ve heard that word before, a long time ago. Blacklight.
Then a strange thought arrived, unbidden, in Jamie’s mind.
It feels like home.
There was a long silence, then Admiral Seward continued.
“I haven’t seen you since you were a baby. You look like your father, has anyone ever told you that?”
“My mother,” replied Jamie.
“Of course,” said the Admiral. “I’m sorry to hear what has happened to her. She was a fine woman.”
“She still is,” said Jamie, staring at the Director of Department 19.
Seward moved a pile of papers from one side of the desk to the other, nervously. He seemed unwilling to meet Jamie’s gaze, and this infuriated the teenager.
Look at me, old man. It’s the least you can do. Look at me.
Frankenstein, as if able to read Jamie’s thoughts, reached out and placed an enormous hand on his arm. The message was clear: stay calm.
“Sir,” Jamie said, as politely as he could manage, and when Seward looked up, he continued. “Why did the guard outside in the corridor have a go at me? I haven’t done anything.”
The Admiral looked at him, opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again and said, “Don’t worry about that. It’s not important. We need to focus on what we are going to do with you now.”
“Let me look for my mother,” Jamie said, instantly.
“Out of the question,” Seward replied. “We have no idea where she is, or even if she...”
He trailed off, straightened a line of pencils that lay in the middle of his desk.
“If you won’t help me,” said Jamie, his voice low. “I’ll do it on my own. Let me out of here, and I’ll find her myself.”
“I can’t do that,” replied Seward. “We’re taking you off the grid.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that in a little over forty-eight hours there will be no record that you ever existed. It’s for your own safety, and the safety of anyone you’ve ever been in contact with.”
Jamie’s head swam.
“You’re erasing me?” he asked, incredulous. “Is that what you’re saying?”
Seward nodded. “It’s standard procedure in a case like this. Alexandru may try to get to you through people you have known. And his existence, and that of others like him, must remain secret. It’s our top priority.”
Anger flashed across Jamie’s face.
“My mother is my top priority,” he growled. “I don’t give a damn about yours.”
“You see?” said Seward, looking helplessly at Frankenstein. “How am I supposed to...” He hesitated, then returned his gaze to Jamie. “Your father was one of my closest friends,” he said. “Did you know that? No, of course you didn’t. But he was. When I joined the Department he was already a legend. He was one of our finest Operators. For it to end the way it did...”
Jamie waited for the Admiral to say more, feeling the heat beneath his skin, pushing his anger as deep as he was able, but the old man appeared to have finished. The glaze had returned to his eyes, and he seemed to be lost in his memories, remembering better days. When Jamie could take the silence no longer, he tried a new approach.
“What about my mother?” he asked in a low voice. “Why didn’t she tell me the truth about what Dad really did? After he died, I mean.”
Frankenstein spoke in a low rumbling voice, like a landslide.
“She never knew anything about Department 19. It’s forbidden to tell anyone that it exists.”
“So he lied to her his whole life?”
“Yes,” said Frankenstein. His vast face was expressionless, but his eyes never left Jamie’s.
“It’s not so unusual,” said Seward, and the teenager and the monster turned their attention back to the wide desk. “All the Security Services require it; MI5, SIS. And Blacklight is classified far beyond either of them.”
“So how come I would have been asked to join?” Jamie asked. “Don’t you have to be selected, like for the SAS?”
A flicker of admiration passed across the Admiral’s face, and he nodded. “You’re very sharp, Jamie,” he replied, “just like your father was. The document that founded Department 19 entrusted the protection of the Empire to the five founder members and their descendants, in perpetuity. It was later amended to include your family. Over the years, we’ve needed to expand way beyond just the members of six families, and those men and women we draw from the armed forces, the police, the Security Services, just as you suggested. But descendants of the six families listed in the original document are always asked to join, automatically. A tradition that has served us well; a descendant of the founders has headed Blacklight during every year of her history, from Professor Van Helsing’s founding reign until now, when the honour has fallen to me.”
Curiosity temporarily pushed concern for his mother from Jamie’s mind.
“Were any of my family ever in charge?” he asked.
Admiral Seward sighed. “No,” he said, and his voice, which had swelled with passion as he talked about the history of Department 19, now sounded deflated. “That was part of the problem.”
“What problem?”
Admiral Seward’s gaze flicked towards Frankenstein, and Jamie followed it. The huge man’s jaw was clenched tight, the veins in his neck standing out, but he nodded.
“All right,” the Admiral said, a resigned look on his face. “I suppose it’s better you hear this from me than from one o
f the soldiers.”
“Hear what?” Jamie asked, knowing as he did so that he didn’t really want Seward to answer.
“Two years ago, the day before he died, your father betrayed us. There was an attack, here at the Loop, and a number of men were killed. The attack was carried out by Alexandru, the same vampire who took your mother last night, who ordered Larissa to kill you. Your father gave him the information that allowed it to happen.”
A terrible icy cold crawled up Jamie’s spine and into the back of his head.
Impossible. There’s no way Dad would have done that. Impossible.
“I don’t believe you,” he said, his voice little more than a growl.
“I know it must be hard for you to hear this—”
“No. It’s not,” interrupted Jamie. “It’s easy. You’re wrong.”
Seward looked at Frankenstein.
“You see? He’s too young to understand this.”
“I’m not too young,” said Jamie. “I just don’t believe you.” He looked at Frankenstein and continued. “There were things in our garden the night Dad died. I saw Larissa through our front room window. There were vampires there just before he was shot. If he sold you out to them, why were they there?”
“There were no reports of any supernatural activity in the area around your house that night,” said Frankenstein, softly. “There were—”
“I don’t want to hear this!” cried Jamie, his voice suddenly loud in the small room. “I don’t want to hear any more. Why are you saying this to me?”
He turned on Admiral Seward.
“You told me he was your friend. Why are you saying this about him?”
“I was his friend,” replied Seward, but he dropped his eyes to his desk, unable to meet Jamie’s furious gaze.
“I was his closest friend, Jamie,” said Frankenstein. “I knew him for almost twenty years. What he did broke my heart. But it’s the truth.”
“But why? Why would he do it? You said he was a legend. Why would he have done it?”
“A year before he died he led a mission into Hungary,” Frankenstein replied. “He was following a lead on Alexandru. When your father’s team arrived at an estate outside Budapest Alexandru was gone, but his wife Ilyana was still there. Julian destroyed her, and brought the team home. But he knew Alexandru would stop at nothing to have his revenge, on Julian, and on you and your mother. So he made a deal; he sacrificed us so you would be safe.”
