Darkest Hour

by Rob Cornell

  “You mean you want to use me for your Return thingy,” Jessie said.

  Kress smiled, showing perfect white teeth, but none of the smile reached his eyes. “We want to make sure you fulfill your destiny.”

  Jessie hopped to her feet, holding the artifact in one hand while she aimed a finger of the other hand at Kress. “You can take that destiny shit and cram...” The fierce look in her eyes turned comically to surprise. Her jaw dropped. “What?”

  Ms. White Stripe cocked an eyebrow and raised her rifle a little, not quite aiming at anything, but ready to swing the barrel up on notice.

  Jessie huffed and cocked her hip. Lockman knew right then that Kate was telling her something Jessie did not like a bit. He’d seen the same reaction before when they’d been living in Illinois and Kate told Jessie to complete some chore. He could almost hear the But Mom...

  Jessie looked down at Lockman. “Mom says we should go with them.”

  Well, they had planned on contacting Kress for help before Gabriel had arrived at the base. He saw a significant difference between asking for Kress’s help fighting Gabriel and putting himself and Jessie into the man’s care, though.

  “She says,” Jessie continued, “that you won’t survive without their help and you damn well know it.”

  Lockman had grown so used to the pain in his damaged body, he had let himself forget the severity of his injuries. Kate was right. Without prompt medical attention, he was a goner, and here stood a life-flight out of this place free of charge.

  “You’re mother is near?” Kress asked Jessie.

  Jessie glanced at the cube in her hand. She ignored Kress’s question, though. “We need to go with them, Dad.”

  Kress didn’t wait for a confirmation from Lockman. He turned to his striped sidekick and made a twirling motion in the air with a finger. Stripe nodded and hoofed it out the door. “Hang in there, Mr. Lockman,” Kress said. “We’ll take good care of you.”

  Lockman laid his head back on the floor. He caught the faint scent of rain again. A coolness touched his forehead like an invisible hand feeling for a fever.

  Kate?

  And then the weight of his injuries, both physical and emotional, pushed him toward the dark. This time, he let it take him.

  He dreamed a lot. Mostly about Kate. Memories reenacted in his sleep. An unknown amount of time went by as he slipped in and out of consciousness, plugged into IVs and heart monitors, with nurses in and out to check on him, the room a fully equipped ICU, though Lockman knew it didn’t belong to any public hospital.

  Kress’s resources were staggering.

  Several times, he would wake from a dream and find Jessie at his bedside. She would hold his hand and watch him with worried eyes. He would try to tell her he was okay, but whatever kind of drugs they pumped into him through the IV tubes made him too groggy to speak.

  He found it odd that they didn’t try mojo to heal him. They had him doped up enough that he couldn’t have objected. At one point, Jessie did ask if he wanted her to help him like she had in New Orleans. She kept it cryptic like that, not coming right out and asking if he wanted to drink her blood.

  He had just enough strength to shake his head.

  No easy exits. He had earned the slow recovery. A little penance for the bad choices he’d made.

  On the third day of his recovery, Lockman received a visit from Kress. He was accompanied by the woman with the stripe in her hair whom Lockman had since learned went by Mica. She had a manila folder tucked under her arm. Kress came into the room without greeting. He went straight to a flat-panel TV attached to a hinged arm bolted to the wall. The arm allowed him to swing the TV out so Lockman could view the screen from his hospital bed.

  “You need to see this,” Kress said as he cycled through channels. He stopped when he came to a shot of the president standing at a podium in the White House’s East Room.

  Lockman watched in awe as the President of the United States addressed the nation about a horrible terrorist attack on Barrow, Alaska that cost the lives of the entire city. Details of the nature of the attack had to remain classified, he explained, for the sake of national security, but rest assured those responsible would be hunted down and brought to justice. He intimated without coming right out and saying it that al-Qaeda had something to do with the attack. Of course, Barrow’s borders and a healthy perimeter, including air space, were now blocked by a military presence, allowing for no press access. He promised to offer continued details on the attack as they came to light, and asked that all Americans pray for the over four-thousand lost in one of the worst terrorist attacks on American soil since 9/11.

  The president’s address at an end, Kress immediately shut off the TV and swung it aside. He didn’t look half as stunned as Lockman felt. In fact, he almost looked bored.

  “You have any idea what happened to the vamps up there?” Lockman asked, trying to imagine the reaction of regular military discovering a city full of creatures that weren’t supposed to exist.

  “We do,” Kress said. “We assisted with clean up.”

  Not what Lockman was expecting. “You assisted the US government?”

  “More like they assisted us, actually. After we established that the immunities Gabriel had endowed the Barrow vampires with had expired along with his...tenure...we organized an invasion team. Daylight returned to Barrow two days ago. We also found a pair of crop dusters conveniently loaded with holy water.” He gave Lockman a pointed grin. “Between the sunlight, dowsing the city with the holy water, and a whole lot of silver bullets, we made quick work of the vamps. They had nowhere to run out there.”

  This conversation felt like a dream. Kress’s ties went all the way up to the Pentagon for Christ’s sake? “This invasion team was regular military?”

  Kress shrugged. “We didn’t have much choice. The government no longer has an anti-supernatural terrorism agency, as you well know. That’s why they contracted us for this. Don’t worry. We briefed them before sending them in. And my team accompanied them, of course.”

  “This isn’t the first time you’ve work for the feds.”

  “No,” Kress said and held his hand out to Mica. She handed him the folder. “And it won’t be the last.” He offered the folder to Lockman.

  Lockman eyed the folder warily without taking it. “What’s this?”

  “Two things,” Kress said. “The first is an order from the president requesting to establish the Agency Against Supernatural Terrorism. Technically, that’s reestablish, but our sitting president doesn’t know about the previous incarnation you were a part of.”

  “Why show this to me?” Though he had to admit to some curiosity, along with a twinge of anger that it took a clusterfuck as big as Barrow to warrant the new agency.

  “That’s the second thing.” Kress extended his arm a little more, moving the folder closer to Lockman. “Take it and see for yourself.”

  For a moment, Lockman didn’t budge. His heart monitor pinged regularly. The smell of antiseptic and fresh gauze filled the room. They had scaled back his IV meds, but he still felt fuzzy. Curiosity got the better of him. He eventually took the folder and flipped it open.

  A sheaf of papers lay inside. The top sheet belonged to the presidential order Kress had mentioned, which, Lockman discovered upon scanning, included a directive to incorporate Kress’s organization into the new agency, installing Kress as the department’s CO.

  “This’ll be a nice upgrade for you,” Lockman said.

  “Uncle Sam wants to pay us to keep doing what we’re doing, I’m not going to argue.”

  “Might interfere with the movie career, though.”

  Kress’s mouth split open into a large, sharky grin, straight out of one of his trademark close-ups. “My kind doesn’t sleep. I’ll have plenty of time to ply my craft.”

  “If you say so.” Lockman flipped through the pages until he reached the second document in the folder. Another missive on White House letterhead straight from th
e president’s desk, only this one was addressed to Lockman. “What the hell?”

  “Read it,” Kress said.

  Lockman did. Every word. Twice. It was only a two-page letter, but he spent ten minutes going over both sheets, back and forth between the Dear Agent Lockman—a title he hadn’t carried for nearly two decades—and the concluding signature from the president himself. A whole bunch of those words praised “his service” and covered the broad strokes of “his heroic actions” of the last few years. Someone had briefed the president quite thoroughly on Lockman’s exploits against Otto Dolan, the vamps in New Orleans, and this latest struggle with Gabriel. Probably Kress. The move star had scary good intel. Lockman figured Jessie might have helped fill in some details the last few days as well.

  The basic gist of the letter boiled down to one thing—a job offer. The Commander in Chief wanted Lockman to serve as Kress’s second officer.

  The whole thing seemed far too surreal to take seriously.

  Lockman closed the folder and handed it back to Kress. “This is fucked up.”

  “The world’s changed,” Kress said. “Barrow made it so our government can’t ignore paranormal threats. Gabriel Dolan almost got his wish and exposed the world at large to what really lurks in the shadows. You can bet with all the normal terrorism out there, the White House would rather not introduce the American people to something much worse.”

  “You’re a supernatural yourself. Wouldn’t you rather have equal rights or something?”

  Kress huffed. He tapped his thigh with the folder. “I don’t know if Kate told you my team’s primary focus. Working for Uncle Sam won’t change that. We want to facilitate The Return. That’ll give us supernaturals an opportunity to go back where we belong.”

  She had told him about that. Lockman did not object to the idea. Kicking out the supernaturals from the mortal plane sounded like good policy to him. He found himself skeptical of the possibility, though. Especially the part about Jessie’s supposed role. He couldn’t see how she fit in at all.

  Just another prophecy.

  “I know you’re not much of a joiner,” Kress said. “But the president would like an answer within forty-eight hours. He wants to get the ball rolling on this project as soon as possible, and we’ll need a second in command to make it happen.”

  Lockman’s skin tingled. A shiver ran down his spine. Maybe a side effect of the pain meds. But he didn’t think so.

  “I don’t need forty-eight hours,” Lockman said. “I can give you my answer now.” Then he said—and he couldn’t believe this was coming out of his mouth—“I’m in.”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  “Are you sure about this?”

  Jessie threaded her fingers into Lockman’s and squeezed.

  They stood before a plastic window a foot thick that looked into a bare room with iron walls. The only thing in the room was the cube-shaped artifact that carried what remained of the love of Lockman’s life. That and the explosives attached to it.

  Kress stood on the other side of Jessie, a detonator in his hand. “Her spirit is bonded to the artifact. If we destroy it, she will cease to exist. No chance of getting her back.”

  Did the man think Lockman hadn’t already thought about these things? Hadn’t gone over them a thousand times, looking for some way out? Through Jessie, Kate had made her wishes clear. She wanted the artifact destroyed. This time, no matter how much it hurt, he would not defy her.

  “We can’t chance Gabriel getting loose again,” Lockman said. “We have to end this.”

  “You agree with your father?” Kress asked Jessie.

  Lockman wanted to clock the guy for dragging this out, but that was no way to start a relationship with your new commanding officer.

  “It’s what Mom wants,” Jessie said as if that should end all dispute.

  Not for Kress, though. “I don’t think you understand. Your mother’s soul will be obliterated.”

  Jessie gave him a hard look. “Then so will Gabriel’s.”

  Kress sighed, shook his head. He clearly felt like he was dealing with a pair of dummies. “Very well.” He held the detonator out to Lockman. It had a bright red button at the top. “But I won’t be the one to do it.”

  Lockman took the detonator without comment. He looked to Jessie. She squeezed his hand and nodded. Lockman nodded back, looked through the window at the artifact, and whispered, “Goodbye, Kate.”

  He pressed the button with his thumb.

  Lockman and Jessie moved into a two-bedroom suite in Kress’s complex down the hall from Kate’s room, which had been refurnished and repaired since Kate had stayed there. Unlike Kate’s room, however, their suite did not have windows. Jessie could walk freely in the living space without worry of catching any sunlight.

  They were provided with clothes and various creature comforts like TVs, computers, smart phones, IPods pre-loaded with thousands of songs. It all seemed a bit excessive to Lockman, but the things seemed to keep Jessie occupied—especially all the music—and help her cope with the loss of her mother.

  Kress and company left the two of them alone for a couple weeks while they got settled. The suite included a fully stocked kitchen with an extra refrigerator specially designed to hold bottles of blood for Jessie.

  They developed a routine where Lockman woke early, did his exercises, then made breakfast for himself and had a bottle of blood warmed in the microwave for Jessie. They would have their breakfast together in silence. Afterward, they would sit together on the couch and watch TV. At first, following the news reports on Barrow, then switching to DVRed episodes of The Walking Dead, which seemed less fictional to them than the news from Alaska. Washington had managed to convince everyone that residents of the northern city were victims of a biological attack.

  “That’s messed up,” Jessie had said shortly before they both decided to stop watching the news for good. “The idea of a biological weapon that can wipe out a small city is less scary than what really happened.”

  After two weeks, Mica came to collect Lockman for his first day on duty. Lockman refused to leave with her until he had made sure Jessie would be okay alone. Jessie insisted that she would, though Lockman could tell even with all the provided toys, she was getting stir crazy. He felt it himself.

  Mica led Lockman to a newly furnished floor of the complex, designed specifically as the home office to the newly minted Agency Against Supernatural Terrorism. Lots of glass cubicles, fancy tech, and government grade office furniture. The smell of new plastic permeated the place. It startled Lockman when he first stepped off the elevator. The layout was completely different, the technology a lot more modern, but the feel of the place brought Lockman right back to the old days. He half expected to find Creed behind the desk in the main office instead of Kress. Hell, their names even sounded similar.

  Mica opened the door to Kress’s office, then stepped aside, directing him with a tilt of her head to go on in. She shut the door behind him, leaving him and Kress alone.

  Kress gestured to one of a pair of chairs set in front of his desk. Lockman took a seat.

  “We’ve already got an assignment for you,” Kress said. “You ready?”

  Lockman took a deep breath, nodded. “I’d like to make a request first.”

  Kress made a show of checking his watch. “Thirty seconds on the job and already making requests.”

  “I was brought in on this for my expertise not my blind loyalty. At least, I assume so.”

  Kress leaned back in his chair and stroked his chin. It was hard not to imagine him playing one of his dastardly characters. Lockman had no doubt Kress carried his acting skills beyond the set. Lockman made a note to never forget this.

  “I was merely teasing,” Kress said. “We might now stand under the umbrella of the government, but you won’t find things as stuffy here as your old agency.”

  That didn’t comfort Lockman as much as Kress probably thought it would. “In any case, I’m second in command, so ex
pect my input.”

  “Of course.” Kress held out a hand in a let’s hear it gesture.

  “Jessie,” Lockman said. “I want her instated on the team.”

  One of Kress’s eyebrows lifted. “Really?”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “Actually, it isn’t. I would love to have her aboard. I didn’t think you would approve.”

  “I don’t love the idea. Still, she needs...an outlet. She’ll go mad cooped up in that apartment for much longer.”

  “Fine,” Kress said. “Consider her the first of the team I need you to assemble to investigate the activity in New Orleans.”

  A stone seemed to drop into Lockman’s stomach. “New Orleans?”

  “I know. Seems you’ve come full circle.”

  “What’s the situation?”

  “Best we can tell, we have a team of rogue demon slayers on our hands, and they’ve staked out—no pun intended—New Orleans as their killing grounds.”

  “Doesn’t exactly sound like our kind of problem.” Actually, it didn’t sound like a problem at all. Hadn’t Lockman himself been a part of a rogue group of vamp killers in the Big Easy himself? More power to whoever wanted to lay waste to the remains of the king’s army.

  “Normally, it isn’t. But this crew is sloppy. They’ve left bits and pieces of vampires all over the French Quarter for any old mortal to stumble upon.”

  There was the crux. “So our new agency is really more about clean-up and suppression than anti-terror. Figures.”

  “Don’t get all idealistic on me. You didn’t let me finish. This vigilante group has also taken out mortals. They’re killing anyone even associated with supernatural elements over there. And I’m not talking about unsavory types like the Dolan brothers.” He tipped forward, eyebrows raise, his stare dead even with Lockman. “Innocent civilians, Craig.”

  It irritated Lockman that Kress thought he could push Lockman’s buttons so easily. Invoke the phrase innocent civilians and win him over like a dog doing tricks for a leftover t-bone. It irritated him even more that it worked. He felt the hinge of his jaw tighten.