The plane’s engines began to whine as the pilot applied the air brakes again in an attempt to slow us down before impact. When we hit, the underside of the plane skimmed the sea and cold water sprayed into the cabin through the gaps where the fuselage had melted. The tang of salty water filled the air, dispelling the sulfurous odor that had lingered there before. The floor vibrated beneath my boots as the ocean created friction against the aircraft’s undercarriage. A loud rushing sound filled the air and it was so loud that it overwhelmed my senses. It scattered all my thoughts as it filled my head. It was like being inside a huge washing machine. The plane lurched as it plunged into the sea. Cold ocean water began rushing in through the holes in the fuselage, covering my boots and Felicity’s shoes. Even the chill of the water on her feet didn’t wake her.
The engines roared a final time and then died. There was no sound now other than the lapping of the waves against the plane and the rush of the water filling the cabin.
I unbuckled myself and Felicity, throwing her over my shoulder and splashing through the water in the aisle, moving forward to where Baldy sat. He looked up at me and said flatly, “We’re alive.”
“We won’t be if we don’t get off this damn plane,” I told him.
The cockpit door opened and the pilot and co-pilot, both dressed in neat white shirts and black trousers, came into the cabin. The pilot was an older man with salt and pepper hair and a moustache that made him look like he belonged in a World War II fighter plane. “I’m Captain Reynolds,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.” He and the co-pilot, a much younger fair-haired man, went to the rear of the plane and opened the door there before throwing the life raft through it.
“Life jackets are under the seats,” Reynolds said. “I suggest you wear one.”
I wasn’t about to argue. I put Felicity down in the nearest seat and dug around until I found two life jackets. I put one on her and pulled the cord to inflate it.
“Don’t inflate them until we get out of the plane,” Reynolds told me.
“Unless you didn’t notice,” I said, “the water is inside the plane.” It had risen almost to my knees. We were sinking fast.
Baldy went to the weapon room and began stuffing swords, daggers, and crossbows into canvas bags. That must be procedure in case of emergency. The enchanted weapons were too valuable to lose to the sea.
I carried Felicity to the open door. The life raft was inflated and waiting, the co-pilot sitting inside it and doing his best to keep it close to the plane. “Pass me the girl,” he offered.
“I’ll hold onto her,” I said, stepping onto the raft with Felicity over my shoulder.
Baldy appeared at the door and tossed the bags of weapons into the raft. They rattled and clinked as they landed on the floor of the raft. Baldy followed them, making the raft shake as he landed inside it. At least his shades were still intact.
“Everyone okay?” Reynolds asked before stepping onto the raft and nodding to his co-pilot. The young man started a small outboard motor and drove us away from the sinking aircraft.
“Blankets for the lady,” Reynolds said, handing me a bundle of blankets. I placed them over Felicity’s sleeping form and sat close to share my body heat with her. Not that I had much body heat to share; I was cold and wet and my salt-stained clothes clung to me like an uncomfortable second skin.
“What the hell happened?” the co-pilot asked.
“We were attacked by demons,” I said. “Whoever sent that storm had some pretty powerful magic. Opening a portal on board a moving plane is a very complex work of sorcery.”
“Any ideas who it might be?” Reynolds asked. Then he held up his hands. “Never mind, I know you couldn’t tell us even if you knew. We’re just the hired help. Still, I’d like to know who destroyed my aircraft.” He looked across the waves to where the plane had almost completely sunk. Only the nose was above water and that was sinking fast as well. Reynolds sighed. “Goodbye, old girl.”
“How long until the Society rescues us?” I asked him.
He consulted an electronic device that was encased in black and yellow rubber. “Well, judging by how far we were from the coast when I sent the distress signal, I’d say we’ve got maybe six or seven hours on this dingy before we’re rescued. Our best bet is if there’s an aircraft carrier in the area. The Society will radio the Navy to send a helicopter our way to pick us up.”
“They can do that?” I wasn’t sure why I was so surprised that the Society of Shadows could order the Royal Navy to rescue us; the Society had been around for centuries and some of its members moved in powerful social circles.
“Of course,” he said. “So we just have to wait until someone comes along to rescue us.” He made himself comfortable against the side of the raft, folded his arms, and closed his eyes as if being forced out of the sky by demons and ending up on a life raft was an everyday occurrence for him.
“One thing’s for sure, Harbinger,” Baldy said; “Somebody wants you dead real bad.”
I’d been thinking the same thing myself. The red demon had known my name and said that my death had to be confirmed to its master. It wasn’t enough for it to simply crash the plane; it had to make sure there was no way I could survive.
Whoever had the Staff of Midnight wanted me dead, that was for sure, and that person had sent assassins after me before, but nothing on this scale. Maybe I was on someone else’s shit list as well and I was the target of not one, but two powerful magicians. Great, that was just what I needed.
There was nothing I could do about it out here in the middle of the Atlantic, so I settled back against the inflatable wall of the raft and adjusted the blankets that covered Felicity. Her breathing was slow and deep, as if she were sleeping. I hoped her dreams were pleasant and not nightmares of the horror she’d just faced.
Taking my cue from Reynolds, I closed my eyes and listened to the waves slapping against the side of the life raft.
It was almost three hours later when I heard a helicopter in the distance. At first, I thought I was imagining the distant sound, but the high-pitched hum got louder and when I opened my eyes, I could see a dark shape in the sky.
Reynolds grabbed a red flare from the raft’s supply box and lit it, waving it above his head to get the helicopter’s attention.
I checked on Felicity. She was still lying in the same position, breathing deeply and slowly. I guessed that the poison in the red demon’s claws was of the type that made a human sick for a few days. If it was the fatal type, I was sure Felicity would be dead by now. At least, I had to believe that. If she had been fatally wounded because someone wanted to kill me and she just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, I would never forgive myself.
The helicopter hovered above us, its blades chopping the air noisily and causing a downdraft that made the sea around us ripple outward in tiny waves. I held the blankets tight around Felicity so they wouldn’t blow away.
A man in a white helmet and blue flight suit descended on a cable until his booted feet touched the raft. The name “Carver” was sewn on the left breast of the flight suit. “I’ve got four survivors,” he said into the mic on the helmet, presumably to the pilot in the helicopter. Looking at us, he said, “I don’t know who you people are, but you must be very important to someone. Our naval aircraft carrier was rerouted to carry out a search and rescue mission as a priority. And there’s a chopper en route from the mainland to pick you up from our ship.”
“He’s the important one,” Reynolds said, pointing at me.
“No,” I said, indicating Felicity. “She’s the important one. She needs medical attention.”
Carver nodded. “We’ll get all of you back to our ship ASAP. We’ve got a good medical team on board.”
I shook my head. “The only people who can help her are the people coming from the mainland in that helicopter.” I knew the Society would send a medical team to collect us and that team would have knowledge of demon poison. The Navy medics in t
he ship we were headed to now would be baffled.
“Well, they shouldn’t take too long to get here,” Carver said. He held out a nylon harness. “Okay, who wants to go for a ride first?”
“She does,” I said, pointing at Felicity.
Carver nodded. “No problem.”
Later, when we were all on board the naval helicopter and heading for the ship, I looked back at the empty life raft, an insignificant speck in the shimmering ocean. Somebody wanted me dead, and they were willing to bring down a plane to achieve that goal. The thing was, I was pretty sure it wasn’t the person who had the Staff of Midnight. After all, if they knew I was on a plane bound for London, why bother trying to kill me at all? Why not just go to Dearmont and grab the box? If the staff could guide them to the box, then they had to know it was in Maine and that I didn’t have it, so going to such a huge effort to kill me would be pointless.
No, whoever had crashed our plane wanted me dead for some other reason.
For some reason, I wasn’t only important to the Society of Shadows; I was important to the bad guys, too. And I had no idea why.
As we got farther away from the crash site, the tiny speck that had been our life raft vanished among the gray expanse of the sea.
Chapter 9
It was almost ten in the evening, London time, when a black Bentley dropped me off outside a large building near Hyde Park. The tall building’s only identifying feature was a gold plaque that read MYSTERIUM IMPORT AND EXPORT on the wall next to the heavy wooden doors. I always wondered if using the Latin word for mysterious as part of the Society’s cover was some kind of inside joke. I pressed the button on the intercom next to the door and looked up into the camera mounted above it, knowing that a facial recognition program was attempting to identify me right now, and I was being checked out by the building’s magical wards.
A heavy click told me that the doors had unlocked. I pushed through them and stood in a grand marbled lobby that certainly didn’t belong to any import and export company. Walking into the Society’s headquarters was like stepping back in time to the Victorian era. Although the Society moved with the times and was just as tech-savvy as any other organization, its outward appearance spoke of antiquity and a bygone age. Portraits hung on the walls that followed a wide, curving staircase up to the upper levels. The walls themselves were dark and wood-paneled. A rich yet subtle scent of smoky wood hung in the air and I was sure it was part of the outer illusion of age, probably emanating from incense in the ventilation system.
A large, curved, wooden reception desk was situated by the door and there were two men and a woman, dressed impeccably in dark gray suits and a dark gray dress respectively, working behind it. I had no doubt that if, despite the camera and wards, someone got into the building who didn’t belong, these three would be more than capable of taking care of the problem.
One of the men smiled at me as if he were the receptionist at a hotel and I was here to check in. “Mr. Harbinger. It’s good to have you back with us. I trust your journey was a pleasant one?”
“Not really. I was in a plane crash, then I spent an hour on an aircraft carrier waiting for helicopter to bring me to the mainland. Then I spent two more hours in the car you sent to collect me from the airfield worrying about my friend who’s been taken to the hospital.”
His smile never faltered. “I’m sorry to hear that, sir. Your father is expecting you. I’ll get George here to escort you to his office.”
“I know where it is,” I said, walking toward the bank of elevators across the room.
“You know the policy, sir.” He looked at this colleague. “George, would you escort Mr. Harbinger to his father’s office, please?”
George, a dark-haired man who looked like he was all muscles and steroids beneath his suit, nodded and came out from behind the desk. “This way, sir.” He led me to the elevators and pressed the button to call one.
Yeah, I knew the policy of this place. Nobody was allowed to go anywhere without an escort, and that included the preternatural investigators. In fact, the policy had probably been put in place specifically to stop P.I.s from wandering around the place. As far as the Society’s ranking system went, we were on the bottom rung of the ladder. And it wasn’t a ladder I wanted to climb either; I was happy enough out in the field. I’d probably go crazy if I had to work in a stuffy office and deal with politics and social niceties.
The only downside to being one of the Society’s drones was that I had to be escorted around the building like a naughty child.
The elevator took us to the fifth floor where George led me along a wood-paneled corridor to a door bearing a plaque that read THOMAS HARBINGER. He knocked and waited until my father’s voice said, “Enter,” before opening the door and ushering me inside.
I went into the office, which looked like a cozy library in an old house more than a place of work. Stuffed bookshelves covered every wall, floor to ceiling, except where a large stone fireplace had been built into one wall. In front of the fireplace were two leather armchairs, each with its own side table upon which sat a lamp with a dark green glass shade. The fire was lit and crackling gently.
An old desk sat at the far end of the room, covered in papers and books and, the one item here that confirmed I hadn’t actually stepped into the past, a computer. My father, who had been sitting behind the desk, grinned when he saw me and came over to greet me.
He looked a little more tired than the last time I’d seen him, but I guessed he had been worrying about his son being involved in a plane accident. Or maybe not. There was probably some aspect of the job keeping him up late.
He wore a dark green suit and tie over his robust frame and he was as well-groomed as always, his gray beard trimmed close to his cheeks and chin, his hair neatly combed and cut. The tiredness was in his gray eyes, which were a little bloodshot and didn’t shine with their usual spark of clarity.
“Alec,” he said, spreading his arms and coming in for a hug, “how are you?”
“I’ve been better,” I said as we embraced.
“Yes, I heard about what happened. Terrible business. At least you’re here safely.”
“I can’t say the same for Felicity,” I said, breaking away from the hug.
“She’ll be fine, Son. I’ve heard from the hospital that the poison was mild and she’ll sleep it off in a couple of days.”
I let out a slow breath of relief. During the drive here, my anxiety over Felicity’s health had slowly built until it had become a tight knot in my gut. Now, that knot unraveled slightly.
“Do you know who attacked the plane?” I asked.
He nodded. “I have a good idea. Let’s have a drink and talk about it. Scotch?” He went to a wooden cabinet and opened it to reveal a bar stocked with an assortment of liquor bottles and glasses.
“I could use a beer,” I said.
His face fell slightly. “I’m afraid I only have spirits here.”
“Scotch is fine.” I took a seat by the fire, my eyes roaming over the imposing bookshelves. Most of the books were on occult subjects, in many different languages. I saw some French and Latin titles I recognized and knew that if they were in my father’s library, they were first editions.
He came over with the drinks and sat in the chair facing me. “How are things in Dearmont?”
I shrugged. “I’m working in a couple of cases.”
“Anything interesting?”
“You wouldn’t think so. I’m sure they aren’t as exciting as running the organization.” I took a sip of the scotch. It burned as it slid down my throat. It was definitely the good stuff, though.
“I don’t run it alone, Alec, you know that. I’m just a cog in a big wheel.”
I arched an eyebrow at that. As cogs went, he was an integral one, as far as I knew.
“I sometimes miss my days in the field,” he said before taking a drink. “The work seemed more … honest. I have to deal with politics now, where you only have to fight monster
s.” He grinned and added, “Perhaps those two things are actually quite similar.”
I smiled but I wanted him to get to the point. I wanted to know why I’d been summoned here in the first place and who he thought had attacked the plane. As soon as I had that information, I was going to get a cab to the hospital so I could visit Felicity. Anything beyond that didn’t interest me. I didn’t give a damn about political in-fighting among the Society’s upper classes.
“So,” I said, “why am I here, Dad?”
“You always were one who liked to get straight to the point,” he said. “I suppose I should explain why I called you here.”
“Well, I know it wasn’t for a father-and-son chat,” I said.
He gave me a thin-lipped smile. “No, it’s business.”
“I didn’t expect anything else.”
He sighed. “Fair enough, I’ll get straight to the point. Have you ever heard of an organization called the Midnight Cabal?”
“Yeah, of course. They were a secret group of occultists. They were around in the seventeenth century, weren’t they?”
He nodded. “The Midnight Cabal is as old as the Society of Shadows. When the Society was formed, it pledged to protect humanity from the monsters in this world. The Cabal had the opposite goal. They were bent on the destruction of mankind and a return to the Dark Ages, when magic and superstition held sway over everyone from farmers to royalty.”
“So it’s a good thing the Cabal vanished two hundred years ago,” I said. The serious look he gave me over his glass of scotch told me everything I needed to know. “They didn’t vanish, did they.” I said. It was more a statement than a question.
“They seemed to have vanished,” he said. “As far as the history books are concerned, the Midnight Cabal disappeared entirely around the year 1745 or so. However, it seems that they simply went underground. Just like everyone else, the Society thought the Cabal was gone, but we now know that they still exist today. They’ve been biding their time, making plans to destroy the Society of Shadows and all of mankind and throw the world into darkness.”
Buried Memory (Harbinger P.I. Book 2) Page 8
