Reckoning: A Fallen Siren Novel

by S. J. Harper

  His last words are said with a hint of humor. I find myself smiling. Kallistos is nothing if not enterprising.

  I look around. “Where’s Liz?”

  “Right here.” She enters from the dining room. “Did you get the hair?”

  The image of the coffin in Craig’s apartment quickly erases the smile from my face. “From Craig’s brush.” I toss Liz the evidence bag before turning to Kallistos. “You’ll be pleased to know he’s suffering.”

  Kallistos doesn’t flinch. “It pleases me to know with assurance he won’t be draining another co-ed tonight. You may not like it or understand it, but a sire chooses his children and is responsible for them, as well as their actions.” His eyes drift to Owen and Rose. “And not merely for a decade or two. Doling out discipline isn’t only a sire’s right, it’s his or her obligation.”

  “What’s happening to Craig isn’t discipline. It’s torture.” I expect him to rise to my ire, but he doesn’t.

  “We aren’t human, Emma, we’re vampire—capable of great violence, able to bring unspeakable death. Do you have any idea how many young women Craig has attacked? If he can’t be controlled, well . . .”

  The rest goes unsaid, but I understand the implication.

  Rose is glaring at me. She warned me to leave this alone. Said that Kallistos wouldn’t intervene. But I didn’t want to believe her. I’d been picking at this scab long enough. It’s an argument I can’t win and maybe one I have no right to insert myself into the middle of. I don’t know what my relationship with Kallistos will be like when this is over, but I know it will be changed. I knew it the moment I allowed Zack to remove Kallistos’ mark. The way he’s looking at me now, he feels it, too.

  Finally, to break the long moment of silence between us, I turn to Liz. “What now?”

  Liz gestures to the woman to bring the chameleon and to the rest of us to follow her. I hurry to catch up with Liz. She’s crossed through the dining room and out a side door. I know the layout of her condo—in addition to a large patio in front, there’s this smaller, more private flagstone patio in back. Usually it holds plants and a couple of comfortable reading chairs. Today, a table and a small daybed have been placed side by side.

  “What will you do with the chameleon?” I ask when she’s had the woman place the cage on the ground. “I trust she won’t be bringing a dead reptile back to the zoo.”

  Liz laughs. “No. It will be returned completely intact, horns and all. The chameleon will act as a channeler between Craig and Owen. It is its nature, after all, to adapt its coloration to whatever message it receives from its brain. The spell will modify the message.”

  She asks Kallistos to take the woman back to the living room. When he returns, she shuts the door. Seven of us gather around the table: Kallistos, Zack, Rose, Evan, Owen, Liz, and I.

  Owen looks at the items arrayed on the table. “What is all this?”

  Liz touches each item in turn: “Incense to purify. Vervain weakens your natural resistance so that you can accept the spell. Mandrake root is a hypnotic. It will allow you to relax. Almond oil is an anti-hepatotoxicity, prevents organ damage. The poplar leaves and frankincense offer healing abilities.”

  Owen doesn’t look assured. He picks up the vervain, a dense cluster of small purple petals. “Seems like a lot of things to prevent damage. How sure are you that I’ll come out of this in one piece?”

  Liz raises her eyebrows. “I’ll be frank. I’ve worked this spell just once before.” She looks at me. “But it’s the same one I would have used on Sarah and Emma if our plan to trap Asa had worked. You know I would never do anything to put Emma in danger.”

  Owen nods, then brightens. “This sounds like something out of an episode of Charmed.”

  Liz waves him off. “Puh-lease. Charmed. Honey, stand back. You’re about to see some real magic.”

  Owen takes Rose’s hand and lifts it to his lips before sighing. “Okay, let’s do this.”

  Liz tells Owen to lie down on the daybed. Rose starts to sit beside him, but Liz waves her off.

  “You cannot touch him,” she says kindly. “It might interfere with the transference. You must join the others near the door.”

  Owen gives her a reassuring smile and Rose moves with a swish of long skirts to stand beside me.

  I’ve seen many spells cast over my long existence—magic both black and white. I trust Liz with every fiber of my being. Still, something about using powerful magic makes me uneasy. We’re about to reorder nature. Change Owen at the very core of his being.

  Liz has a small hot plate on the table. Steam rises from an iron pan. She lights an incense stick, waves it around the area, and places it still burning in a holder. She takes the beeswax candles, the five red ones, and places them around the daybed. The black one she puts near the chameleon’s cage. She anoints Owen’s forehead with the almond oil, drips a drop onto the chameleon’s back. The lizard snaps up at her through the wire of the cage. Its tongue springing with lightning speed.

  One by one she adds bits of the herbs and leaves into the simmering pan. She’s murmuring in a language I recognize as early Greek. This is truly an ancient spell. With a start, I realize it may even be one of Demeter’s. She was a chthonic deity in whose shrine people often hid tablets appealing for aid. But she was also capable of working powerful magic. My presence here proves that. At the same time these thoughts wash over me, I’m hit by the fragrance of jasmine. Demeter’s favorite. I look around to see whether anyone else is affected. All eyes are still on Owen and Liz. Is this a message to me? Is Demeter granting her blessing? Is she pleased that her magic is still being used and for this purpose?

  I don’t know whether to be reassured or frightened but it’s too late to stop the spell now.

  Liz is stirring the mixture in the pan with the poplar twig. The last ingredient she adds is the bit of Craig’s hair.

  A hiss emanates from the simmering brew. Steam rises, becoming a dense fog that seeps over the pan and onto the floor. It surrounds Owen and the chameleon. Owen’s eyes are closed, his body relaxed. The chameleon becomes agitated, twitching in the cage, its tail whipping from side to side. It turns bright red, from snout to tail. Then the fog encloses it and it’s hidden from view. Owen, too, as the fog seems to solidify, encasing him in a rigid cocoon.

  I gasp. We all do, but Liz continues to intone her ritual, still stirring, still focused on the fog as it settles over both Owen and the chameleon. It seems like an eternity before slowly, the haze melts away. First from the chameleon, whose color has returned to normal. Once again, he snaps at his cage.

  Then, gradually, the image of the daybed and the still figure on it becomes clearer.

  Liz is silent now. We press forward.

  I hear Zack’s breath hitch.

  No longer is it Owen lying motionless before us. It’s another man, red haired and thin mouthed. The jeans he’s dressed in, Owen’s jeans, ride up his ankles. They are short by a good three inches.

  We are looking at the young man we left in a casket at Craig’s apartment. We are looking at Craig. At first I think something must have gone terribly wrong. The prone figure before us displays no evidence of life. But maybe it’s not supposed to just yet. I think about what Kallistos is like when he goes into stasis, or sleep. He’s still, unmoving. I wait for Owen to wake, to stir. He doesn’t. I look up at Liz, her lips pressed together in a thin line. She’s concentrating. Worried.

  “Liz? Is he—?” I ask haltingly.

  Rose beats me to Owen’s side. She takes his hand. “Why isn’t he waking up?”

  But before Liz can answer, Owen’s chest heaves. He sits straight up. “Did it work?” He looks around at us. “I guess from the looks on your faces, it did.”

  Rose flings her arms around his neck. “This is a good look for you,” she says, laughing. “I like you as a redhead.”

  Owen grins. “Anybody got a mirror? I’d like to check myself out.”

  Kallistos steps between them. �
��Okay. Enough. We’ve got work to do. Owen, we need to get you to Craig’s apartment in time for the car to pick you up.”

  “I can drive him,” Rose says.

  “No.”

  Both Kallistos and Owen answer in unison.

  “Zack can take him,” Kallistos continues in a tone that brooks no argument.

  I register the fleeting look of surprise on Zack’s face. He checks the time, palms his keys. “Actually, that’s a good idea. We should get going,” says Zack. “Especially if we’re going to get back here in time to suit up and test the communication setup. We still have a lot to do yet.”

  “I could go tonight, too,” says Rose. “With you, Zack, and Emma.”

  Kallistos softens when he sees the concern on her face. He reaches for her hand. “Don’t worry. We will be fine, and in constant contact. You are my eldest living child, my Queen Regent. You must be kept safe. You’ll stay here with Liz and Evan.”

  Owen stands, takes Rose in his arms, and kisses her. A deep kiss full of promise. “I’ll be back.” He glances down. “Maybe we can try out this new body.”

  Rose grins. “I’ll be waiting.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Zack has been on the phone with Simon ever since he returned from dropping Owen a few blocks from Craig’s apartment.

  “Testing. Testing. One. Two. Three.”

  Suddenly, I can hear him through the earpiece I’m wearing.

  “You’re coming across loud and clear,” says Simon. “Emma?”

  “Yes?”

  “Say something. How about: Kallistos is nothing more than a plaything to me, Simon. It’s you I really want. Do it in a low, breathy voice,” he says.

  “I can hear you,” replies Kallistos, his tone a blend of amusement and annoyance.

  Simon claps his hands and then drums on the table. “Well, all righty, then. Nonmystical communications are up and functioning. What about the connection between you and Owen?”

  Kallistos, who’s sitting at Liz’s dining room table, has traded in his suit for a pair of black jeans, a long-sleeved black shirt, and a leather jacket. “He’s in the apartment. He’s anxious and wondering if maybe he should wait outside instead.”

  “I think that’s fine,” I tell him. “Let’s do what we can to help him manage his anxiety.

  Kallistos nods.

  My earpiece goes silent. Simon and Zack exchange a few more words over the phone; then Zack hangs up. He’s commandeered the large flat-screen on the living room wall and has his computer hooked up to it. A map of downtown San Diego is displayed with a bright red blinking dot over Craig’s apartment building.

  “You put tracking on him before dropping him off?” I ask.

  Zack shakes his head. “No. I thought that would be too risky. If I were Lamont, I’d have all of the bidders screened and blindfolded. I prepared Owen for that, blindfolded him and practiced on the way over to Craig’s. He’s a natural. Kallistos just has to relate what Owen is experiencing.”

  Liz places a tray of sandwiches on the table. Next to them are half a dozen bags of blood and a pitcher of iced tea. “I don’t understand. If he’s blindfolded, what will he be able to relate?” she asks.

  Zack selects a ham and cheese. “Turns, stops, variations in speed. It won’t be exact, but it will be close. You and Rose will be able to watch from here. We have another monitor in the van.” He takes a bite of the sandwich and pours himself a glass of tea.

  I’m too nervous to eat. I check the time on my cell. “Shouldn’t the van be here by now?”

  Zack puts down his sandwich and walks over to me. “He’ll be here. Malcolm’s a pro. Come here.” He circles around me, lifts up the side of my sweater.

  Kallistos watches, his eyes dark and dangerous.

  Zack continues as if he is unaware of Kallistos’ glare. “I want to tighten this strap.”

  He does. The sweater drops back into place over the vest. “That’s better.” He pulls what looks like a custom-made tactical double-draw shoulder holster from the bottom of the bag and holds it out to me like he would a jacket. “Slip this on. I’ll help you adjust it.” It crosses comfortably in back. Another strap snaps around my torso, keeping the weapons securely in place.

  Zack hands me his Glock. “I’ll have enough with my rifle.”

  “Thanks.” I slip his gun into the left holster. Mine I slip into the right.

  “No problem.”

  Zack takes another bite of his sandwich. He doesn’t look at Kallistos, but he gives me a surreptitious wink. He’s wearing a black T-shirt and cargo pants. Between bites of the ham and cheese he slips on his own vest and checks his weapon once again. His phone chimes. He glances at it. “Showtime.”

  * * *

  Zack, Kallistos, and I are sitting in the back of an unmarked white panel van that’s decked out with the latest in high-tech surveillance equipment. Malcolm is driving, the man who delivered my early Christmas present. He’s yet to say a word. He’s yet to look at us. He’s focused on the road, on following orders, on otherwise being invisible—the perfect soldier. We’ve just pulled onto the 163 and are heading north. The space seems unbearably small. Zack is positioned in front of a console that contains a monitor. Kallistos is standing behind him, looking over his shoulder. The expression on his face is intent.

  “They’re curving to the right,” he says.

  Zack taps the screen. “They’re going east on Highway 8. Have him tell you when he notices a change of speed and whether he can sense the direction.”

  Kallistos nods.

  It’s strange, watching Zack and Kallistos work together like this.

  Seconds stretch into minutes.

  “You were right about the mask. Right to prepare him,” Kallistos says. Giving Zack the deserved compliment seems to cost him something.

  “We could be in for a long drive,” I say.

  But Kallistos shakes his head. “No, they are slowing down. Owen thinks it’s an exit, but he can’t tell if they are going left or right. Feels like they’re going straight. Maybe traffic just slowed down?”

  “My bet is they took the Fairmont exit. It runs parallel to the highway. Let’s see if he comes to a stop.” Zack touches his earpiece. “Simon, can you start to pull up all of the nearby properties that contain hallowed ground?”

  Kallistos holds up a hand. “Wait. He’s come to a stop. They’re turning left. I know where they’re going.” He pauses, takes a seat, points to a spot on the map. “The Mission Basilica San Diego de Alcala.”

  “How can you be sure?” Zack asks.

  Before Kallistos can answer, Simon’s voice echoes in our earpieces. “Yep. That’s a good guess. It’s the biggest piece of hallowed ground in the area and Kallistos knows it well.”

  Zack and I both turn to Kallistos. “Lamont must have heard about the tunnel system. He’s using it to store the girls, avoid detection.”

  “A tunnel system?” I ask. “Under the mission?”

  Kallistos nods. “The knowledge has been lost to most, but there’s a network of tunnels underneath the church grounds. They were built after a night raid by the local Indians in 1775. Father Palou put me in charge of the planning. I know them like the back of my hand. Although it’s been many decades since I’ve used them for anything.”

  I don’t know who is the more surprised—Zack or me. “A priest put a vampire in charge of protecting the mission?” Zack finally asks.

  Kallistos waves him off. “Long story.”

  One I’ll have to remember to ask about.

  “Point is, it’s the perfect place to hide. Originally we built one entrance within the mission and an exit about a thousand feet away.” Kallistos points to a spot on the map that looks to be deep in a nearby canyon. “The mission has since been rebuilt. The original access to the tunnels, here, in the canyon, was closed off.”

  Simon has been monitoring our conversation. Architectural drawings, photos of the mission’s interior and exterior, and the most recent surveying pl
ans are now popping up on the computer screen.

  “So the entry point is gone?” Zack asks.

  Kallistos shakes his head. “No. I built another. I used the tunnels during Prohibition, to stash booze. It’s blocked by a sizable rock. Between the two of us, we should be able to move it. Perhaps I could now do it by myself. It’s been many years. In any case, the entry is about two hundred and fifty feet from the circle.”

  “The circle?” I ask.

  We’ve exited the highway, turned left onto Fairmont, and are now on Mission Road. Kallistos points to an apartment complex on the left. “Pull into that lot,” he tells Malcolm. “We can go the rest of the way on foot.” Then he turns to me. “The tunnels were built to be a fail-safe. A place the mission inhabitants could take refuge should another raid occur. Food and water were stored there. Midway between the mission and the exit, we carved out a half dozen or so rooms that opened onto a central circular space. My bet is they’re holding the girls in one or more of those rooms.”

  We come to a stop. Kallistos wastes no time opening the door to the van. He jumps to the ground.

  Zack follows.

  Malcolm douses the van’s lights. It’s pitch-black. It’s a waxing crescent moon and high, thin clouds dot the sky. I slip the night-vision goggles on. I don’t have the biological advantage that Kallistos and Zack both have.

  “You lead,” Zack says to Kallistos. “Emma can follow. I’ll take the rear.”

  Kallistos grows still. He holds up his hand. “Owen’s mask has been removed. He is, as I suspected, in the circle. They’ve erected a staging area on one side that’s about six feet above the ground. A long, narrow table has been set up. Seating for ten. White tablecloths, crystal glasses at each spot. Three vampires are already seated. Owen makes four.” He pauses. “One of the three is unknown to him. The others are a pair of brothers who have been a pain in my ass for years. Lamont is there. So is Ford, along with a handful of other vampires who are talking with Lamont. Owen counts four. Guards, he suspects. Plus a human he doesn’t recognize.”