Jake watched him go, then retired back to his office, where he immediately began moping like a sulky teenager—an observation that, while factually accurate, did nothing to alleviate his mood.
Because it was garbage. Sure, it was nice of Vogel to think the best of him, offer him his little pep talk, the old encouraging thumbs-up. But the truth was, Coleman was right. Jake had taken his new role for a joke, and because of this a man was now seriously injured—hell, could have even been killed. And why? Because Jake had been too busy goofing off and acting irresponsibly to give the situation the proper attention it required.
He thought of Gustav, the pet rat he’d had as a child. His foster parents had bought it for him, on the understanding he would be responsible for feeding it and clearing out its cage—and for a while, that was exactly what he had done. Then summer had rolled around, and Jake had forgotten all about poor Gustav—that was, until he’d returned one afternoon from skateboarding to find the poor guy lying dead in his cage, having succumbed to a combination of starvation and sheer neglect. In his desperation, the little guy had even tried to claw his way free, bloodying his paws terribly in the process.
It was something that had always haunted Jake, because he’d loved that rat.
His foster father, Kyle, had pulled him aside shortly afterward, said, ‘See, Jake? This is what happens when you shirk your responsibilities’, and goddamn if he hadn’t been right. And now here Jake was, doing exactly that once again. He wondered, not for the first time, if there might be something wrong with him.
What would Mom and Dad say if they could see you now, Jakey-boy?
He continued to feel sorry for himself, sitting slumped in the office chair his late Grandma Stella had bequeathed to him, when suddenly there was a rap on his door.
He turned his face toward it, frowning. ‘Who is it?’
A voice from the other side of the door: ‘It’s Eliza. Open up.’
Jake groaned. Probably come to give him another one of her pep talks. Seriously, was that all anyone ever did around here? ‘I don’t want to talk to anybody. Go away.’
‘Look, I know you’re upset, but you can’t hide in there forever.’
He thought of his coach-fort again, how comfortable and safe it had felt. Like a cushiony womb. But then, they all knew how that had turned out. ‘Leave me alone!’
There was a clunk and a hiss as the door suddenly rose up, and Eliza strolled in, a cup in each hand.
Jake blinked. ‘But… what… how did you—?!’
‘How did I open the door?’ She winked. ‘I’ll tell you about it sometime. But right now, you need to drink. Here.’ She handed him one of the cups. It was one of those polythene types, with the plastic lids. Steam rose from it in little wispy tendrils. Smelled kind of funky.
‘What’s this?’ he said.
‘Green tea and honey.’
‘Yuck.’
‘A bit of peppermint in there also—you know, to give it kick.’
‘I think I’d rather drink toilet water.’
‘Oh, quit moaning. Besides, it’s good for you.’
He took the cup and sipped tentatively from it while she settled into the chair opposite.
‘So you’re thinking about leaving,’ she said as she reclined—a question that was not a question at all.
Jake blinked. As it happened, the possibility of leaving had occurred to him, though it wasn’t until she’d said it aloud that he realized it. ‘No, I’m not.’
‘Good. Because that would be a very stupid thing to do.’
‘It would?’
‘Well, let’s see; aside from the fact you just signed a contract pledging your allegiance to the cause—which is legally binding, by the way—you are now officially awakened to the “world beneath the world”. The “horrors that skulk in the darkness”.’ She waved her hands in the air as she said it, presumably for emphasis. ‘Which means they also know about you. You’d be a target. And a very vulnerable one, at that.’
Jake stared.
Holy crap, he hadn’t even thought about that. He did know about them now, didn’t he? Had he really thought they’d just leave him alone? Hell, they’d already come for him once—for whatever reason (Jake was still unsure on that part). He’d be a sitting duck.
‘But of course, you don’t need to worry about all that,’ Eliza went on, ‘seeing as you’re not leaving, and all.’
Jake sensed he’d just lost a competition he’d hadn’t known they’d been having.
‘What do you care?’ he asked. ‘What’s it to you if I stay or not?’
She seemed to think very carefully before speaking again. ‘Look, your grandmother was great and all, but she had a very… principled way of doing things. Very by-the-book. But the armies of Hell are changing, Jake. Everyday there are more and more breaches. They’re getting braver. For whatever reason, they’ve redoubled their efforts, and if we want to stay one step ahead of the game, we’re going to need to redouble ours.’ She met his gaze. ‘I believe you are key to that change.’
‘Me?’ He scoffed. ‘Why? I’m just a pizza delivery guy.’
She shrugged. ‘Sure—maybe. Or maybe you’ve just been waiting for that dare-to-be-great situation to come along.’
He thought it over. ‘I’m pretty sure I’m just a pizza delivery guy.’
Before Jake knew what was happening, Eliza shot to her feet, her hands all of a sudden gripping his shoulders with startling intensity. ‘Listen to me—do you know why your grandmother left you control of this company?’
‘Senility?’
‘No, Jake. She left you this company because she saw something in you. Some… untapped potential. And for whatever reason, I see it too.’ She stared hard into his eyes. Jake noticed how close they were. ‘You were meant for this, Jake.’
They continued to stare at each other, Jake smelling the sweet, honey-like tang of her breath—
‘Uh, what’s it doing?’ said Eliza suddenly. She was looking over his shoulder, toward the stack of bookshelves that stood at the other end of the office.
Jake followed her gaze.
It was Churchy. He was standing by the wall at the opposite end of the room, little flat face pointed at the bookshelf, and he wasn’t moving.
Jake blinked. ‘Churchy?’
He had gone very stiff, his hackles visible even from where they stood across the room.
Jake and Eliza shared a look.
What the hell…?
They stepped across the office together, to the large, floor-to-ceiling bookshelf lining the wall.
‘What is it? What’s the matter, boy?’
Churchy gave a succession of little yaps, his face still pointed at the bookshelf.
Jake bent down, trying to see exactly what it was that had gotten the little dog so riled up—
He saw it at once; a soft light, emanating from a little crack under the bookshelf. It was very faint, almost unnoticeable unless you had your face pointed right at it.
He turned to look at Eliza knelt beside him, his eyes wide. ‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’
‘Well, I guess that depends—hey!’
Jake hopped to his feet and immediately began pulling out books, letting them fall to the floor with reckless abandon. At his feet, Churchy continued to go crazy.
Eliza frowned. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Quick, help me! One of these has to be—’
He fell silent as his eyes happened on a book the second shelf from the top.
Whereas all the other books on the shelves were academic, leather-bound pieces, this one was a paperback. Thin. Very old-looking.
He pulled it out, turned it over—
He burst out laughing. He couldn’t help it; it was just so ridiculous. ‘Really, Grandma? Did you not know what subtlety was?’
It was The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe.
‘Jake—look.’
He let his gaze fall to where Eliza was pointing—a little plastic-so
mething, molded onto the book’s back cover.
It was a switch.
He blinked. ‘SERIOUSLY?’
Eliza flicked it.
There was a heavy clunk, a sound like something big sliding, before the bookshelf fell in on itself, revealing a small room filled with tables, atop which several computer monitors sat, each currently turned on. In the center of the room was a tripod—what appeared to be a camera of some sort on top of it, pointed at the room’s one and only chair. Along the walls, guns of varying make and size hung like animal trophies. Long ones, short ones, ones with multiple barrels, all illuminated under a procession of tiny spotlights.
Jake stared around the room, his mouth open.
Huh. A secret room in a secret underground facility. Who’d have guessed.
‘Are you seeing this?’ said Eliza from beside him. In his surprise, he’d almost forgotten she was there.
He nodded. ‘Yeah. It’s some sort of, what… panic room?’ He thought it over. ‘But, wait—why would Grandma Stella have needed a panic room? I thought this was meant to be the most secure place in the world?’
‘It is.’
‘So then why—?’
They saw it at the same time; a flashing, coming from the camera’s little flip-out screen.
They stepped over to it, Eliza wrestling it from its mount.
BATTERY LOW.
She frowned again. ‘Quick—look around! There has to be a charger for it somewhere.’
Churchy dancing around their feet, they hunted around the little room, lifting up stacks of paper and yet more strange-looking guns before eventually finding one beneath the table furthest right.
They plugged it in.
Immediately, the screen lit up, offering them an image of a woman in a pristine two-piece business suit. She was a tiny thing. Slim. Dark gray hair, cut to a style like that of a school principal, or presidential candidate. She looked different to how Jake remembered, but there was no mistaking who it was he was looking at.
From the camera’s tiny flip-out screen, Grandma Stella’s piercing blue eyes glared at them.
Jake’s face fell flat. He began to ask what on earth he was looking at, when Eliza shushed him.
‘Be quiet—she’s about to speak!’
‘My name,’ said Grandma Stella, from the camera’s dinky display screen, ‘is Stella Meunier, and I am branch head for the Human Defense League’s New York Division.’ She spoke very deliberately, each word carefully measured. ‘For the past thirty-two-years, I have led the fight against those who would wish us harm—often to great personal sacrifice. Which is why it is with great sadness that I come to you today.’
Jake glanced at Eliza, who was staring unblinkingly at the screen. He didn’t think he’d ever felt more confused—which, given recent events, was really saying something. ‘What’s she talking about?’
Eliza ignored him, her gaze fixed on the little camera in her hands.
Grandma Stella went on. ‘It has recently come to my attention that there are agencies out there plotting to make an attempt on my life—agencies that, I fear, may have already infiltrated our organization.’
Jake blinked. An attempt on Grandma Stella’s life? But that didn’t make any sense. She was the branch-head, the one everybody rallied to protect. She was the head of the snake. He couldn’t understand why anybody would want to—
He fell silent as Grandma Stella spoke again. ‘It is my hope that, in coming to you, I can—’
She turned away from the camera, her attention having been caught by something in the other room.
The camera went abruptly dark.
They stood there, in the little room, the two of them staring at the camera’s now-dark screen. Neither of them moved, just stood there in shock, all dazed, like in the aftermath of some terrible car accident.
‘Oh my God,’ said Eliza eventually. Her voice came out very small. ‘Do you understand what this means, Jake?’
Jake only barely heard her. All of a sudden, his head was full of bees. He couldn’t think properly.
‘And the date stamp—you saw it, right?’ she went on. ‘She must have made this right before she died!’
Jake spun on her, frowning. ‘So, wait, what are you saying?’ He feared he already knew, though.
‘Your grandmother…’ she said, her eyes wide and staring. ‘I think she may have been murdered.’
A MOUSE AMONG CATS
‘This is insane!’ said Jake, pacing across the room with his hands in his hair.
It was five minutes later. They were back inside the office, the Narnia-door now once more shut up tight behind them. ‘I mean, murdered? Why would anybody want to hurt Grandma Stella?’
It didn’t make sense. From all he’d been told, everyone had loved his grandmother—a fact made doubly apparent by the palpable sense of loss he’d felt upon first arriving. Evidently, not everybody had shared the same affection for her.
Eliza sat forward on the couch, hands folded under her chin. ‘Well… I mean, it’s understandable some people may have held contempt toward her. She was the branch head, after all. And God knows there are a lot of people out there vying for that position.’
‘So you’re saying it was, what, political? Someone looking to further their career by getting rid of the one person standing in his or her way?’ He shook his head. All of a sudden, his life had become an episode of 24.
She nodded. ‘I’d put money on it, yes. And then you showed up, and whoever it was got stiffed out of the position again.’
‘Right. But who would stand to gain from Grandma Stella—?’
He felt his body go stiff as the obvious dawned.
‘Coleman!’
‘What?’ Eliza offered him a suspicious glance. ‘No, that can’t be right. I mean, he’s head of Operations—’
‘Come on, Eliza! Besides, you said so yourself. He was due to be next in line for branch-head, wasn’t he? And then I showed up and ruined it all, and that’s why he’s been such a jerk to me this entire time.’ He shook his head, all the pieces finally slotting into place. ‘God, it all makes so much sense, now!’
Eliza stared at him for a very long time. ‘So… what do we do? I mean, if you’re right, and the head of Operations really did murder your grandmother, there’s no telling who else might be involved. We have no idea how big this thing could be.’
He nodded. ‘A conspiracy.’
‘Which would mean that whoever murdered your grandmother is probably planning to murder you too.’
‘Exact—’ He frowned. ‘Wait, what?’
‘Think about it, Jake; they murdered your grandmother so they could be branch head. Then you appeared, and ruined it all. What, do you think they’re just going to give up?’
She was right. God, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t even thought about it yet! He was the obstacle to their prize. A roadblock to be circumvented—or, if recent events were anything to go by, simply plowed straight through like a market stall during a chase scene in one of those old cop movies. They wouldn’t give up just because fate had decided to put him, little ol’ Jakey, in their path.
And what was worse, with Moss now out of action, he’d be a sitting duck. A fish in a barrel.
He slumped into the welcoming fabric of his office chair, deflated. ‘Holy crap. I’m screwed.’ He thought it over. ‘Unless…’
‘Unless?’
‘What if we got there first? We find out whoever it is that’s planning to take me out, then once we have some tangible evidence, we go to the Board, show them what we’ve got. I mean, they’ll help us, right?’
‘Well… yes, but—’
‘So it’s settled, then?’
She shook her head. ‘It’s not as easy as you’re making it sound, Jake. I mean, how are we supposed to find said evidence? Just walk up to them with a tape recorder and ask them to confess?’
‘We follow them.’
‘Follow them?’
‘Uh-huh—starting with Coleman
.’
Eliza stared hard at him, her forehead creased. ‘You know this is a terrible idea, don’t you?’
He nodded. It was.
*
As it turned out, it was a lot harder getting out of HQ than they’d initially assumed.
Being the head of this particular branch of the HDL, his wellbeing was of the highest priority, and as such it was imperative that all parties be informed of his whereabouts at all times. And while under normal circumstances Jake would one hundred percent agree with this policy, now, with unknown forces inside HQ rallying to snuff him out like the last ember on a dying fire, the constant observation was beyond inconvenient.
‘Are we there yet?’ he whispered, his words coming out all muted and muffled. He readjusted the towel around his head, the damn thing constantly trying to unravel on him and give them away. ‘I can barely breathe in this thing.’
‘Shush. Quit talking before someone hears you. Besides, we’re almost there.’
‘I can’t help it—it’s so hot.’
In order to solve their “visibility” problem, they had been forced to become a little inventive, culminating with Jake hailing Avery to his office over radio, where, after a certain series of unfortunate events transpired, they had tied Avery up inside the Narnia-room before stripping him of his clothes and his ID badge.
‘I’m really sorry!’ Jake had said as he’d pulled off the guy’s shoes, resisting the urge to sniff the inside of them before slipping them onto his feet—you know, because hygiene. ‘I promise you’re going to get the biggest raise when I get back!’
Avery had said nothing—probably because of all that tape over his mouth. But his eyes, though. Holy crap, his eyes had screamed.
They continued on down the corridor, Jake bent low with the towel over his head, letting Eliza lead him toward the elevator as he tried desperately not to bump into absolutely everything.
They rounded a corner—
‘Eliza?’
Jake recognized that voice immediately.
He stiffened. It was Vogel.
We Hunt the Night: (Tales from the Supernatural Frontline) (Imperium Book 1) Page 7
