by Kevin Lucia
“I’ve never even heard of this so-called Consortium. I’ve a mind to call the Grant Funding Bureau for your credentials.”
“You’re welcome to. However, I still need your records.” Luckily, Bothwell had several well-paid moles working at the Bureau. Any snoopers would find nothing but solid credentials.
Stemmins grunted. “What do you need again?”
“I need to verify that all forms have proper signatures and that they match precisely the items in your collection.”
Stemmins gestured at the Franchi’s case, which Hiram carried in his right hand. “What’s that? Large case for paperwork.”
“This? Standard carbon dating tools.”
“Carbon dating?”
“Yes. To test suspect items for authenticity.”
The man stiffened. “Really.”
“Rest assured. Should I find any forgeries, if your paperwork is in order; we’ll exact justice for you, not against.”
Stemmins flashed an unconvincing smile over his shoulder. “How reassuring.”
“We do our best.”
A tight nod. “This way.”
Hiram swallowed and shoved down a cold, twisting nausea in his gut. The things inside him writhed as he fell in behind the vice-provost
Therese shifted from one foot to the other, resettling the backpack on her shoulders for what seemed like the hundredth time. Packing had been quick, really. She’d grabbed enough clothes for several days, along with all the cash and snacks she could scrounge, then dashed to the University Quarter’s main bus terminal. Because she lived on the edge of campus, that had taken longer than she’d wanted. However, she’d made it before the next scheduled wave of buses left … only to get stuck in a line that defied explanation.
It allowed her to think about things more than she wanted.
She shifted again, blew stray hair from her eyes. Ridiculous, really. The line hadn’t moved since she’d gotten here. It was almost as if no one manned the terminal, and everyone in line only pretended to wait …
A light touch caressed her thoughts. Whispering. Talking. Buzzing.
A thin, blond girl two persons ahead shuffled around, arms hanging slack, mouth open as she stared. A young man in front of the blond also turned and stared.
An alarm jangled in Therese’s head. On shaking legs she backed away and looked around. Everyone in the bus terminal stared at her. She wanted to scream, but her breath caught in her throat when she heard a soft, fleshy ripping. As her gaze shivered around the room, stomachs split open, exposing tentacles and gleaming eyes.
“Hello, Therese. Good to see you again.”
Therese gasped. The things parted to allow Its approach. Her heart jackhammered.
“N-no … no, no, no, no …” Her hand dug into her pocket for something sharp.
The Reggie-thing approached, its face scarred and twisted from the gunshot in the alley. Tentacles uncoiled from its torn belly. Nestling eyes glared at her. “Hello, Therese. Give us a kiss, will you?”
In her pocket, she found her keys. Slowly, she pulled them free.
It leaned in, reptilian tongue tasting the air. Unable to take any more, Therese screamed and jammed her keys into one of the Reggie-thing’s bloated eyes. Fluid spurted. The ruined eyeball melted, running down the stolen face.
It laughed.
Hiram set down the Franchi’s case and assessed the archival room. Statues, totems, even stone peace pipes lined the tables in rows. Masks and ancient diadems hung on the walls. “Impressive.” He walked down the middle aisle, shifted his satchel and rummaged inside.
“Quite. What now? I hate to be redundant, but I’ve work to do.”
“I don’t want to keep you.” Hiram withdrew the small, hand-held electromagnetic scanner. “I’m going to check these items against a digital manifest that lists suspected forgeries sold on the market within the past ten years.”
“You’re going to check every item?”
“We consider ourselves very thorough, Mr. Stemmins.”
“What the hell am I supposed to do until you finish?”
Hiram nodded towards the door. “Please bring me your authorized purchase orders. It would speed up the process.”
“Fine. Don’t touch anything until I return.”
“Wouldn’t think of it.” There was no answer, however, save that of a door opening and closing. Hiram turned his full attention to the scanner. He didn’t like using technology. Like magic, it felt like a cheat. In this instance, however, he didn’t have a choice.
He activated the scanner. A yellow bar appeared on the device’s small screen. He’d calibrated it for the room’s perimeter. Anything used to conjure a confluence would be highly charged with residual electromagnetic energies. Of course, a talisman needn’t be an object in this room. It could be any object that had absorbed residual confluent energy from a supernaturally turbulent event. A Slushie cup dropped by a student at the Columbine massacre or even a rabbit’s foot found at Chernobyl would work.
Worst case, the conduit would be a person. He’d certainly eliminated plenty of those. This was the best place to start, however. Perhaps, for once, he’d stumble across fortune and the conduit would be an object, and not another human life he’d have to snuff out, so soon after …
Sadie.
He shook his head. Containment first. Find the talisman, destroy the binding, banish the Tanara’ri. If the girl survived that long, he’d rescue her, too—the universe and Mab be buggered.
He coughed wetly, lungs aching. He massaged his chest and realized a cold truth: by the time this ended, he could be dead. The least he could do was kill some more monsters, save an innocent girl, and put a notch in the ‘win’ column before he took the last, big ride.
The EM scanner emitted an increasingly high-pitched screech as the yellow bar shaded to red. He adjusted the settings as he passed the last table. It whined higher. The back wall, then.
He waved the scanner over mounted artifacts. Moving outward in widening circles, the whine decreased in pitch. Reversing his direction, he slowly spiraled inward. The pitch rose as the yellow bar once again deepened to crimson. Three sweeps later the scanner produced a piercing whine over a tarnished bronze chalice, hung near shoulder height. The indicator burned bright red.
“Excellent.” He deactivated the scanner and stowed it in his pocket. “Let’s end this, then.” He reached for the chalice.
The instant his fingertips brushed metal, pain seized his hand and flashed down his arm, vibrating his muscles to the bone. Howling, he grabbed his wrist and pulled. No good. The pain only increased. Numbness crept through his burning fingers. If he didn’t do something soon, he’d lose his hand, perhaps even his arm.
“Eteru, palasu.”
Hiram’s hand jerked free. He stumbled and almost fell. Arcs of pain shot all the way to his shoulder.
“Kali’s tit! I hate magic!”
“Not a very enlightened perspective, really.”
Hiram straightened and flexed his aching hand. Tendrils of smoke wafted from his blackened fingers. He glared at Vice-Provost Stemmins, who stood inside the doorway, hands in his pockets, smiling.
“I can empathize with your consternation, though. Nasty little ward, that. If I’d let the magic run its course, the nerves in your arm would’ve been fried. You’d do well to thank me.”
He shook his stinging hand. “Well, I was going to shoot your ass, but I suppose my thanks will have to do.”
“You’re not really from some Consortium, are you? And you’re not here about grant fraud.”
Hiram faced Stemmins and adjusted his jacket in a vain attempt to restore some dignity. “Actually, that depends on what you conjured with that chalice.”
“I don’t suppose money will help this go away?”
“What? People are dead. Dammit, man, I might die, which is far worse. No, I don’t suppose money will do.” Hiram thought for a moment, then added, “Well, it’d take more than you have, anyway.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You recognize the chalice?”
Hiram glanced over his shoulder and studied it. “Looks like a remnant of the Assyrian Empire, or perhaps late Persia.”
“Quite astute. Its previous owner was the Marquis de Sade.”
“Oh.” Hiram glanced at Stemmins, impressed in spite of himself.
“Yes. If you know about the Marquis’ final days, you’ll understand my … affection for this piece.”
Hiram thought quickly. “Right. He immersed himself in the dark arts and … bloody hell. You’re using the damn thing to conjure a succubus, aren’t you? Maybe even involving a few students as well?”
Stemmins smiled an edged rictus. “Perhaps. However, I assure you no one has died. Yet.”
“Son of a bitch. Two confluences in the same place?” Hiram scowled at the man. “Why does this shit always happen to me?”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. No matter.” Smoothly, Stemmins drew a nickel-plated Walther PPK from his pocket, thumbed the safety off, and pointed it at Hiram.
Hiram’s spine froze as a ludicrous situation shifted to a deadly one. “Hold on. If all you’ve done is conjured hell-whores for some demonic shagging, I’ve got no quarrel with you.” He calculated how quickly he could draw the Webley and didn’t like the odds. “There are much bigger things going on here.
“Honestly—I don’t care.”
“What? Why the hell not?”
Stemmins shrugged but kept the gun trained on Hiram. “Because I’ve done things no one can know about. Blasted Catholics and Protestants are a bit persnickety about black magic and decadence, you see. Wouldn’t put me in a very good light, now would it? And, ironically, I did misuse a research grant to purchase the chalice.” He shrugged. “You see the job-related implications. I’d be sacked. Ruined.”
“Honestly, man, I haven’t the time for …”
His insides quivered. Behind Stemmins, several shadows filled the doorway. A low buzzing assaulted his mind; an oily feeling of dread, loathing, and naked hunger brushed his spirit.
FEED!
Hiram’s knees buckled. His head pounded and stomach churned. The creatures in the doorway had partly gestated. Slimy masses with pulsating eyes nestled in their distended abdomens. Maggot-riddled faces leered as they lurched forward.
Stemmins frowned. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
No longer worried about Stemmins, Hiram backed up, digging into his satchel while They pressed against his mind.
FEED!
The beasts crept into the room. Thousands of voices screamed in his head. He’d suffered psychic attacks before, but this was different. It melded with him until he couldn’t tell where he ended and it began, and his mind burned under their gazes …
Therese shook as they surrounded her. Their oily skin leaked awful fluids, and they stared with empty eyes. Rivers of maggots squirmed from their slack-jawed mouths. Their bellies curdled as things pushed against thin skin. Others had great holes torn in them, from which tentacles flailed. Something in the dripping hollows of their guts blinked hungry eyes.
And Reggie … poor, insecure Reggie … stood before her, maggot-ridden face oozing. Viscous fluids trickled from the eye she’d stabbed. Patches in his hair exposed raw swaths of red meat. His belly had split open, revealing the thing inside. Serpentine tentacles coiled around his body and reached for her.
The Reggie-thing laughed as It plucked the keys from the ruined eye, tipped Its head back, and swallowed them. Smacking pus-slick lips, It buzzed, “Not nice, Therese. Not nice at all.”
The horrible voice clanged against her ears, and a primal, liquid fear slithered in her thighs. This thing that wore Reggie’s face was simply not right. She tried to speak, scream … but she wilted inside.
“Shhh. It’s all right, Therese. You’ll understand everything when you’re part of the Hive.” A bloated finger caressed her cheek, left behind a thin trail of slime that crawled on her skin, felt alive. “You’ll know everything, because you’ll be one with us … forever.”
The coiled thing in Its belly shifted, expelling rank odors, making her gag. She closed her eyes, so she wouldn’t have to see it when they took her.
“N-no, no, no, no, no …”
“Poor Therese. We’ll make it easier. We’ll allow Reggie back up for a bit.”
Silence. Something shifted. Then the being spoke in such an eerie imitation of Reggie, she was almost convinced that if she opened her eyes, he’d be there.
“Hey love. Sorry for this.” It paused. Therese sobbed and bit her lip. Something squelched and slid. She imagined the slit in his stomach widening as tentacles billowed out to envelop her. Something leathery coiled down her leg, wrapped around her thigh, knee, curled at her ankle. She gasped as something wet clasped her hands.
“I never treated you right, Therese; never really deserved you. I see that now.”
Bits of her soul tore away. Therese shuddered, weak with exhaustion, fear, hopelessness. The darkness behind her closed eyes spared her the horrible sight of this thing wrapping around her, but also tortured her because she wanted to believe that Reggie held her close, and not this monster.
“There, there. It’s all right. No more tears. The Hive has shown me wonderful things. In a moment, you’ll see. Then we can be together, like we were meant to be.”
Something licked her face and swabbed the tears off her cheeks. A buzzing choir of thousands pierced her mind with one refrain: EAT YOU, EAT YOU, EAT YOU …
Something inside her snapped. A wall tumbled down and released what had been growing there: Rage.
She hated this thing that dared appear as the man she might’ve loved. She hated how It invaded her mind, pushed into her dark places. She hated them all. She wanted them to burn.
Her body tingled. From a well deep inside, a white, blazing river flowed. She mounted it, rode its waves.
She opened her eyes. Everything glowed in shades of bluish white… except them. They pulsed, black splotches of death and decay.
They needed to be cleansed.
The artifact room shuddered, throwing Hiram and Stemmins to the floor. Across the room, the Tanara’ri shrieked and collapsed. Hiram rolled onto his stomach, blazing with newfound resolve as the pressure against his mind faded. He still felt weakened from the things inside him, but for the moment, his mind was free.
Tentacles thumped against the ground and beat out weird, staccato rhythms as the creatures wailed. Something had hurt them. “Therese.” He stood.
The beasts howled again. Stemmins rolled over and screamed like a teenage girl. Maybe even worse than the girls he’d ministered to in this very room. Poetic, really.
From his satchel, Hiram plucked two magnesium flares. A Tanara’ri flipped to its humanoid feet and howled in a language that burned against his brain. Its humanoid face morphed into a low-slung maw. Clusters of malevolent red eyes blinked in its twisting belly.
“Holy … SHITE! Grange, what the hell is that?”
Hiram strode past the man. “That, Stemmins, is what I meant by ‘bigger things going on.’” With his teeth, he ripped the plastic end caps off the flares and they burst into silvery-white nimbi of fire. Hiram’s lips and cheeks burned where glowing embers landed.
The beasts screamed again. And of course, past them was the Franchi.
“D-did I do this?”
“No! They’re the reason I’m here, not your precious little demon sluts. They would’ve been much easier to deal with, however! More fun, too!”
The lead Tanara’ri lumbered forward, screeching. To his disgust, the things inside him twitched, yearning to be connected to their Hive. Something oily brushed his mind. Hiram’s teeth ground as psychic fingers pried deep into his thought
s.
EAT YOU EAT YOU EAT YOU EAT YOU!
Hiram swept the flares low and focused on his goal: the Franchi. There were too many of the things for his Webley to be useful for long. He needed the wide fire of the shotgun’s special slugs.
“On second thought, this might also be fun.” Hiram readied himself for a charge.
The Tanara’ri roared. Stemmins screamed. Hiram bellowed.
The beasts flung themselves forward.
Blue fire. Pulsing in waves from her, touching everything, purifying, burning away blackness.
W-what is this?
What’s happening to me?
I … I don’t understand! Please!
No!
The power faded, and the white river receded into its well. She still sensed it there: a silvery, glowing pinprick, trapped behind a wall once more. It had left a tendril behind. For now, it lay inert.
Therese came back to herself as sputtering droplets of water fell on her brow. They multiplied into a downpour. Therese shivered, soaked. She felt cold … but she lived.
She opened her eyes and gasped at the destruction before her.
The room was scorched, piled ash sludging under the emergency sprinklers. The tables and chairs in the terminal waiting area were twisted, melted beyond recognition into burnt metal and charred plastic. Everything sizzled and popped and hissed. Steam rose in swirling columns. Here and there, small fires flickered and died. The air shimmered with the lingering heat of her destruction.
Her destruction. From her hands. She’d done this, destroyed everything. A hollow pit opened in her stomach as she recalled the merciless voice in her head. Burn it down. She looked around again. The monsters had been destroyed, all of them except …
