by Alysh Ellis
He’d taken the latest batch of weapons away to assess them. She hadn’t asked exactly how he conducted the tests, real demons being suspiciously unavailable, she imagined. Still, however he did it, he seemed to have found a flaw and it was her responsibility to fix it.
She studied the diagram again and picked up a soldering iron. The weapons conceived in Hopewood’s mind might not bring down any demons, but once she brought them into production they emitted electric pulses at the varying frequencies he demanded. As long as they did that, Hopewood seemed satisfied. She applied a dab of solder and reconnected a loose wire. As soon as the solder had cooled, she reassembled the weapon and pressed the trigger. The blue light she’d put in just so Hopewood would have something to look at lit up. She felt the soft, vibrating hum that indicated that waves of electrons were pulsing out of it. The pointless device was functional once more.
She had just pressed the shut-down button on her computer when her intercom buzzed.
“I need you.”
She sighed and stood up. What now?
At Brian Hopewood’s open door, she waited for him to acknowledge her presence and invite her in. He knew she was there. He’d sent for her. The man liked his little power-plays.
After a few minutes he looked up. “Have you finished? Does it work properly now?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.”
He picked up his phone and tapped his finger against it. “Did Abraham Lewis happen to mention to you that he’d be out of touch today? Or that he was having trouble with his phone?”
“No, sir. But I wouldn’t necessarily expect him to tell me. He might have told one of the other men.”
Hopewood pursed his lips. “I’ve rung all the others and none of them has seen him. I’ve called a meeting. They should be here soon.”
He picked up an ancient book lying open on the table. Judie winced. She might think most of the stuff contained in the book was fantasy, but she had great respect for anything of that age and beauty. Hopewood treated it like a day-old newspaper.
When the other five team members were gathered around the desk in the main office, Hopewood strolled in and took his place at the head, sitting with his hands steepled together and his face grave.
“Abraham Lewis is missing and I am very much afraid he has fallen victim to a demon.”
Judie resisted the impulse to roll her eyes. Sure he had. If Hopewood had said Lewis had come to his senses and quit, or fallen victim to a mugger, or that he’d taken off for a little fun time with a woman, she might have been able to believe it. If you discounted his obsession, Abraham Lewis was quite good looking, with a fit, toned body. Pity he kept it that way to help him fight imaginary demons.
“Sir,” Dawson, another man said. “How would a demon know to target Lewis? They don’t just go around killing people at random, do they?”
“I recruited the five of you,” Hopewood said, looking around, “from information from your social networks. You displayed an interest in the supernatural and you all have military backgrounds. When you agreed to join the Gatekeepers, you agreed to come to Venice to train.” He drew a deep breath. “I had not planned to brief you on this information yet, but Lewis’ disappearance has forced it upon me. Abraham Lewis and I have made raids on demon strongholds.”
The gasps from the five men around the table drowned out Judie’s intake of breath. The man was delusional. She listened, stunned, as he continued. “With the weapons we devised, Abraham and I were able to destroy entire populations.” He paused and looked around. “The range and effectiveness have been greatly increased.”
Judie shuddered. This was the first time she’d heard Hopewood’s intended purpose for her devices. The man was not only delusional, he was frightening.
“You will soon get an opportunity to use these weapons,” Hopewood continued. “Demons emit their own subtle electrical impulses and, again with Ms. Scanlon’s assistance, we’ve developed a sensor that allows us to detect their presence. Abraham Lewis was testing one of these devices when he disappeared.”
Murmurs broke out among the five men seated around the table.
Hopewood held up a hand to silence them. “Ms. Scanlon will equip each of you with a sensor and a weapon as soon as she can put them together. You will then be able to hunt down the demons with complete accuracy and infallibility. In the meantime, I want you out on the streets, looking at anyone and everyone. Demons look human but they are not used to the surface world and their actions may give them away.”
“Oh, now, wait a minute,” Judie protested. “If Abraham Lewis is missing, call the police.”
“The police would not be able to find Abraham Lewis when a demon has finished with him,” Hopewood said, his tone dismissive and condescending. “His remains will be nothing more than an ethereal pile of ashes drifting on the foul miasma of hell, as weightless and insubstantial as a flame.”
* * * * *
“This human weighs a ton,” Huon panted.
“Shut up.” Tybor whispered. “It’s late and it’s dark but that doesn’t mean you have to announce to all and sundry that we’re disposing of a body.”
“If we could have loaded it into a car or van, it wouldn’t be a problem.”
Tybor grunted. “If you’d found a gondola closer to the hotel it wouldn’t be a problem, either.”
“I thought I was close. All the smaller canals look the same to me.”
Tybor took a firmer grip on the blanket-covered body. If it killed him he wasn’t going to admit just how exhausted he was and how much the weight seemed to be increasing.
“Our hotel is right next to a bridge. You could have noticed that.”
“The boat I found is tied up right next to a bridge.” Huon sounded defensive. “It just happened to be the wrong damn bridge.” He hitched the body up higher. “And before you say it, there wasn’t any point trying to move it again to get closer to the hotel. We don’t want to be seen on the Grand Canal, even at this time of night. It will be hard enough trying to find a way out to the lagoon. The whole place is a decaying, waterlogged maze.”
In spite of his weariness, Tybor laughed. “This is one of the most beautiful cities in the world. You don’t seem to have the right level of appreciation for it.”
“I might appreciate it a bit more if it weren’t populated by people who leap out of nowhere to try to kill us and who then have to be disposed of by night through streets that have so many steps you can’t even chuck the body in a wheelbarrow to get it to where it needs to be.”
“Once we get onto the water, we’re set.”
“I won’t be set until we’ve got rid of Hopewood and headed for home.” Huon looked around at the beautiful old buildings. “They say this place is slowly sinking into the lagoon. As far as I’m concerned, the sooner the better.”
“Ah, the young are such philistines.” Reminiscence took Tybor’s mind off his pain for a moment. “Venice has always been a city of learning, a repository for books from around the world, a gathering point for students of the occult. Ley lines deep within the earth meet under this city. For centuries human and Dvalinn have been drawn here. You know the cemetery island, San Michele, is a portal.”
Huon’s head swung round from his position at the head of their little parade. “You came here? For books?”
“Books and intellectual discussion.”
Huon’s mouth gaped open and Tybor laughed.
“What’s the matter? Didn’t think I’d be interested in that sort of stuff?”
Huon turned back to face ahead but his words carried back. “You’re not an intellectual. You’re a soldier, a fighter.”
“I don’t know whether to be flattered or insulted,” Tybor grunted.
Huon didn’t answer. He took another couple of steps and turned a corner.
“Here it is.”
“At last.” Tybor looked down on the sleek black craft rocking gently on the water. “You go aboard and I’ll ease the—ah—parcel
down to you.”
Huon leapt down, light and nimble on his feet, balancing more easily on the narrow boat than Tybor would have expected from a land-born creature. He held up his arms and Tybor pushed the corpse down to him. Huon caught it and staggered back, pulling the body with him. Rigor mortis kept the body stiff so it lay across the seats like a board.
“Maybe we should have stolen a Venetian funeral boat or one those cigarette boats. They’d be faster.”
Tybor glanced around him. “Boats like that are not just left tied up with no security. This will have to do. At least it’s quiet.”
As soon as Huon had the body settled, Tybor stepped onto the rear decking and picked up the single oar. Huon plucked it from his hands.
“I’ll do that. You’re wounded, remember.”
He held the oar across his body like a machine gun, then shifted his grip, leaned to one side and dipped the oar in the water. The boat heeled to the right and Tybor flung himself to the left, slamming his hands onto the body and holding it to keep it from rolling off into the canal.
“Take it easy. We want this guy overboard, but not until we get out of the city.”
Huon pulled the oar from the water and stepped back into the center.
The boat rocked wildly from side to side, then steadied. Huon glared at Tybor as if daring him to say something. He looked around, his gaze settling on the S-shaped piece of wood, like a serpent with a gaping mouth.
Tybor nodded. “The oar goes—”
Huon didn’t let him finish. “I can figure this out for myself. You don’t have to tell me everything.”
He put one foot onto the starboard side but when the boat began to list, he pulled it back, dropped to his knees and reached over to slide the oar home. When it was seated firmly, he stood up and changed his position on the rear deck until the boat lay flat and balanced in the water.
“I watched them doing this yesterday. It shouldn’t be too hard.”
He pushed down on the handle of the oar, lifting it out of the canal, then pulled back so the blade moved forward. He raised his hands and made a long, deep sweep. It took more force than he’d expected. The gondola surged ahead a foot, then stopped dead. The impetus made him stumble forward. He righted himself, resumed his position and tried again—with the same result.
“Permission to speak?” Tybor barely got the words out without laughing.
“What? You think you could do better?”
Tybor grinned, at this moment more lighthearted than he’d felt for centuries. “I’m sure of it.” He couldn’t suppress his amusement any longer. “First of all, I’d…” A chuckle escaped and he had to breathe deeply to be able to speak. “I think you’ll find it’s much easier if you untie the mooring rope.” He fell back against the side of the boat, laughing so hard tears rolled down his cheeks. “If you could see yourself.”
Huon tugged on the rope until the boat bumped against the red-and-white-striped pole on the dock. He lifted the loop over the top and threw it down into the well of the gondola, then took up the oar again. This time the boat glided away. The grin he sent Tybor was so smug it set the laughter off again. When the next stroke sent the gondola skittering along a wall, Tybor stood up.
“Enough is enough. I told you I spent time in Venice. I know how to do this.”
Huon opened his mouth but Tybor stilled the protest he knew was coming. “I’ll show you how it’s done, then you can take over. Okay?”
Huon relinquished the oar and Tybor began to move in a rhythmic, rocking motion.
“The key is to be steady and smooth and not take too deep a bite of the water. You control the direction by the way you move the oar in the oar lock.”
He demonstrated and the boat slipped, silent and straight, down the canal.
They came to a junction and Tybor backed the oar until the boat turned to the left, then rowed in the new direction.
“How did you know which way to go? Have you memorized every canal in Venice?”
Tybor shrugged. “We know the Grand Canal is that way.” He gestured with his chin. “It runs like an S through the city. All the canals empty out into the lagoon eventually, so as long as I move away from the Grand Canal we should be fine.” He lifted his face into the evening breeze. “Besides, I can smell open water.”
“You’re amazing. You know that?” Huon blew out a long breath. ”You can do everything better than me, even with a fucking torn artery.”
“Which is making my arm ache and my head spin.” He thrust the handle of the oar to Huon. “I’ve shown you what to do. You take over.”
As always, Huon demonstrated what a quick learner he was. His movements mimicked Tybor’s and the boat continued on its way. Tybor subsided onto a seat. Because there was no room, he leaned against the body.
More than just his arm ached. Weariness made his muscles shake and he longed to close his eyes and sleep.
He turned back to Huon. “You’re right. I’m not strong enough yet. I should have let you row. You’re quick—you’d have picked it up without my help.”
The oar stilled in the water for a moment. In the dark, Huon’s eyes were wide, still wells of black. “I’m grateful for the lesson anyway. For all the lessons.”
Tybor shrugged. “I’m not sure there’s much more I’ll need to teach you. It’s no longer teacher and student. From here on in, we’re a team.”
A smile spread across Huon’s face but he quickly turned his head away.
“Which way?”
“What do you think?”
Huon looked behind him, then pointed down a dark, narrow canal. “There.”
Tybor nodded.
A few minutes later they broke free of the surrounding buildings and floated onto the lagoon. Huon twisted around, looking behind him then turning to peer into the darkness over the prow.
“I think this is somewhere near where I arrived in Venice.” He pointed. “The cemetery island is over there.”
“We won’t make it that far. This human is destined for a watery grave.” Tybor waited while Huon rowed. “That’s far enough. The water is getting choppy.” He braced his back against the side of the gondola and put his feet on the body. “I should be able to roll him from here. You get ready to balance the boat once he goes overboard. I won’t be able to move quickly enough.”
Huon shipped the oar and waited, poised on the balls of his feet.
Tybor straightened his knees with a jerk and the body rolled, toppling into the water with a splash. Huon dropped to the right-hand side of the craft, arms spread along the gunwales, and waited until Tybor uncurled from his position and took a seat. Then he picked up the oar, reinserted it and turned the gondola back toward the city.
Tybor grinned. “We make a good team.”
“Yeah, we do.” Huon leaned over and picked up a gondolier’s straw boater hat that had been hidden under the blanket-draped body. He slapped it on his head, the red ribbons fluttering rakishly in the breeze. He winked at Tybor. “And here we are, just a gondolier and his customer, taking a late-night cruise.” He drew a deep breath and began to sing. “When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie…”
“Shut up,” Tybor snapped, the good humor disappearing as if it had never been. “We got rid of one Gatekeeper. We know there are more.”
Sobering instantly, Huon snatched the hat off his head and applied himself to rowing the gondola silently through the water. “We have to see Judie Scanlon again, and this time we have to get something more than sex from her.”
“And then we kill her,” Tybor said grimly.
In the stark, white light of the moon, Huon’s eyes looked huge. “If we can get the information we need without killing her, that will be enough, won’t it?” he asked, and Tybor could hear the note of pleading in his voice.
“She’s Hopewood’s weapons designer. She’s as guilty as he is,” he replied. “Don’t go soft on me just because you enjoyed her body. It was just sex. Sex is not special. She’s not special. She�
��s the enemy. Never forget that.”
Neither of them spoke again. When Huon brought the gondola bumping into the mooring, he tied the rope off and they made their way back to the hotel, avoiding any alley where people moved, sticking to the shadowed side of the streets and holding themselves still and hidden when they heard human voices.
They reached the hotel and Tybor put out his hand to stop Huon. “We can’t stay here. Now that we’ve got rid of the body we have to find somewhere else to stay.”
“I’ll go up and get our gear,” Huon whispered and he slipped up the stairs.
* * * * *
After a sleepless night, Judie spent the morning tidying her lab. Brian had sent the remaining five Gatekeepers out onto the streets, looking for a trace of Abraham Lewis. After lunch, Hopewood strode in to her workspace, shouting instructions, ordering her to prepare weapons for the Gatekeepers’ return
“They haven’t been tested yet, Brian,” she protested. “They’re electrical devices, I don’t want anyone hurt.”
“They’re meant to kill demons,” he replied. “As long as they do that, you’ve done your job.”
Except of course her job was a complete waste of time. It didn’t matter what her weapons did. Brian was sending his Gatekeepers out to murder fictitious creatures. He might as well have pointed his finger and yelled “bang”. As long as Brian thought he’d killed them, they were dead.
“Where are the detectors?” Brian asked, searching through the guns, wires and battery packs on her workbench.
“There are only two.” Judie yawned. “You have one and Abraham has the other one.”
“Make more,” Brian snapped. “Have them ready by tomorrow morning.”
“Can’t,” she said, stifling another yawn. “We don’t have one of the major components.”
His face grew blotchy and his nostrils flared, so she raced through her explanation.
“They’re made specially to order from a lab in the USA. It will be another three weeks before they get here and nothing can be done to speed the process up.” She took a quick breath. “I told you about that. You said as long as we had two working models you could wait.”
