The Dead Pools

by Michael Hesse

  I was amazed at the simplicity of the arrangement. It all made so much sense. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

  Thomas nodded, “exactly.”

  “Bullshit,” Ramirez spat. “Even if that was true in 1941, it’s been seventy years. Are you saying in all that time everyone’s abided by this agreement of yours?”

  “Of course not,” Thomas said. “President Kennedy refused to add his name to the Accords and ordered the OSS against House Castellari. The Strega were nearly wiped out, but had their vengeance on November twenty second. The Order of the Nine moved from House Minor to Major and President Johnson signed the Accords the day after he took office. Since then it’s been business as usual.”

  “So, what’s changed,” I asked while everyone else digested the implications.

  “This Graveyard Dust,” he said flicking the vial. “It hollows out the addict’s body, leaves it ripe for possession. Fill it with the right sort of spirit and you end up with those soldiers that Stevens encountered in Peru or the one’s you saw in Bajios Noche. You said it yourself that it was a demonstration, proof that they could overcome the Deathless. Up until now, they were House Sinister’s counter to your Shadow Company.”

  “Even if you’re right,” Mac interjected. “Why now?”

  Thomas turned to Bender who shook his head. “We’re not sure,” he said after a moment. “There are too many possibilities. It’s been nearly fifty years since the last threat against the Accords. People have short memories. It could be as simple as that.”

  “But you don’t think so . . .

  “No, I don’t. It could be a move by one of the other Houses to eliminate their competition. Maybe the Thule is attempting to destabilize the country by pitting the OSS against the Houses Major. It could even be the Kennedys, after all Chamberlain is related on his mother’s side.”

  “That seems a bit farfetched,” Mac grumbled.

  “True, but the Castellari did cost them two of their sons, John in ‘63, Robert in ‘68, and they nearly succeeded with Edward in ‘69. My mother remembers the delegation that ended their feud. There were rumors that John Jr. was going public about the Accords when his plane went down in 1999. It’s possible that they felt the Houses might have been involved in that accident.”

  “That’s a whole lot of supposition without any proof.”

  Frustrated, Thomas slammed his hand against the table. “Proof? How much more proof do you need? Stevens is your proof and Julian! Even if you don’t believe a damn thing, I’ve told you, what about your own men?”

  “It does make a twisted sort of sense,” Nunez said. “Forget about all the shit with the Kennedy’s for a moment Sarge. Isn’t this exactly the sort of thing the Thule would do, undermine us from within?”

  “I hate to admit it Mac,” Ramirez chimed in, “but the bastard makes a strong case. The Captain said that Chamberlain was moving towards eliminating the Company altogether. Maybe they want something that they can control, completely.”

  Mac looked thoughtful before nodding. “Let’s say for the moment that you’re right. If that’s the case, why haven’t you done something about it? It seems to me that the Aqua Negra is just as big a threat to you as it is to us.”

  “Sergeant, I have a small organization here. I don’t wear the Iron Crown and I doubt House Sinister’s reach extends that far beyond the border. Even if it does, the Accords keep us from striking against the OSS regardless of whose hand pulls their strings.”

  “Which is why you reached out to me,” I said. “You need a Company unit to eliminate the Aqua Negra and destroy the source of the Dust.”

  Thomas nodded, but didn’t say anything. I could see the calculations running behind his eyes, feel how precarious the balance. If he spoke now, he was likely to turn Mac away from the path he’d set us upon.

  Eventually Mac came to a decision. “I’m sorry,” he said and I heard the regret in his voice. “Maybe if you’d come to us sooner, but we can’t run an operation on our own. Our Captain’s been arrested and our unit disbanded. Even if that weren’t the case, how would we get there? How would we equip ourselves in a foreign country without OSS support? It’s just not possible.”

  Thomas leaned back and smiled and I knew then that all of his maneuvering was to bring us to exactly this point.

  “Your Captain’s arrest and the disposition of your unit are merely problems with paperwork. I said that I had a small organization Sergeant, but trust me it’s efficient. Records can be switched, orders lost and forgotten. Already the OSS is discovering that the blood and hair samples they keep on all of you have been contaminated and are useless. How else did you think you’d avoided them for this long?”

  For a moment I thought Thomas had him, but then Mac shook his head. “It’s still no good. We’d need specialized equipment, jungle packs and food for at least a week and that still doesn’t solve the problem with how we’d get in and out of the country.”

  “Give me a list. You’ll be better equipped than any other time you’ve entered the field. And I can place you atop the crag that guards the pools, there’s no need to spend a week tramping through the jungle.”

  “If you can do all that, then we have a deal.”

  “Good,” Thomas smiled. “There’s just one thing more. In order to get you to the Dead Pools I need access to several items in my father’s estate in Clearwater.”

  “Ok, so what’s the problem?” Mac asked.

  “It’s a pest control issue.”

  Chapter 28

  Clearwater, Thursday 18:00

  Private Marina

  Thomas had a boat or knew a guy who had a boat or stole a boat. I hadn’t listened closely and I didn’t much care. All I was truly concerned with was that we were going to assault the compound from the sea.

  I hate the ocean. Just the thought of spending the day on the waves makes me ill, but no one asked for my input. Shadow Bridge was situated on a spit of land that thrust out from Ghost Key like a dagger pointed straight at the heart of Tampa Bay. It was isolated and highly defensible; twelve-foot stone walls separated the blade from the mainland. The walls were deeply spelled of course, and Thomas laughed off my suggestion of walking through the gate.

  “Until the house recognizes my authority to grant a pass, anyone who wasn’t on the original list will come under attack,” Thomas said. “Besides once you’re past the gate you’ve still got two hundred yards to cover before you make it to the house. There are wards and glyphs stitched throughout the grounds as well as a grove of Blood Oak and Devil’s Ear. They were mother’s special project and you don’t want to cross Strega magick if you can avoid it.”

  “No offense,” I said gesturing to Thomas’s hand drawn plans, “but your uncles did it, didn’t they? The assault on your birthday, the one that ended House Sinister’s civil war, it was here at the house wasn’t it? Why don’t we go in the same way they did or am I missing something?”

  Thomas looked up and shoved the plans aside. “I was only ten. I don’t know what path they took, nor do I remember half the traps my parents laid well enough to avoid them. You’re right about one thing though, we can’t go in the front door. We’ll have to go seaside.”

  “Here,” he said stabbing at the plans with a finger, “we’ll land here. From there it’s a straight shot up the beach and across the rear grounds. They weren’t spelled because I played out there as a child. All we’ll have to worry about is the infestation.”

  #

  Twelve hours later we were pushing off from a private marina in Clearwater and I was praying to the Goddess that Mac’s little seasickness spell actually worked. The sun hung low on the horizon, a bloated orange furnace that was doing little to ease my discomfort. I stood by the rail just in case.

  “Tell me again why we’re going in after dark,” Ramirez asked. “Seems to me whatever surprise your uncles have waiting for us would be easier to deal with in the light.”

  Thomas made some adjustments to the whee
l before he answered. “This is Tampa Bay,” he said, “not some Iraqi village. People tend to notice a boatload of men with guns and they call the police. We don’t want that type of attention. Besides, I’m not a daylight sort of guy.”

  Ramirez actually smiled at that. “I’m not a daylight sort of guy, I’ll have to remember that,” he chuckled. “So does your vermin have a name?”

  “No offense Ramirez, but if I knew its name, I wouldn’t need your unit to blast it back to Hell,” Thomas replied. “Talk to Bender if you have any more questions. The channel we need isn’t marked, so I’ve got to concentrate here.”

  Even from my spot on the rail, with my focus on keeping my lunch in place, I could tell that Thomas was nervous. It showed in little things, the way he gripped the wheel, how he stared off across the water as if hunting for something that only he could see. It might be the prospect of returning to the place where his childhood died, but I was afraid that there was more to it. I didn’t think it was the ghosts of his past that haunted him; it was more like a premonition of his future. Something deep and dark was reaching out for Thomas and try as he might I didn’t think he could avoid it.

  Thomas turned to me as if he could sense the subject of my thoughts. “Bender’s got your equipment. Load up heavy, you won’t be returning to the boat.”

  “And where are you going?” I asked more harshly than I intended.

  Though the wind grappled with his words I heard him mutter: “To start a war,” before he turned away.

  While Thomas wrestled with the wheel, Bender gathered us around. “You’ll feel the dread from Shadow Bridge a quarter of a mile from the shore,” he said. “This is a family dread, laid down by Thomas’s grandfather Benjamin and reinforced by his father. It is unlike anything you’ve faced before.”

  “I’ve worked with dreads before. Even cast a few myself” Stevens asked, “what makes this one different?”

  “You’ve never worked with a dread that’s been reinforced for years, nor crafted by two of the strongest sorcerers that House Sinister produced. It’s been fifteen years since the last Sinistra fed his curse and planes still avoid the airspace. The entire time that Shadow Bridge was occupied there was only one breach in security and that too was by the family.”

  “Here take these,” he thrust five battered silver coins towards the unit. No one moved to pluck them from his hand. “These are pieces of eight recovered from the Sanobel which sank off Ghost Key in 1723,” Bender continued as if nothing happened. “Each is inscribed with Mr. Sinistra’s sigil and sealed with his blood. Carrying it on you should dampen the worst of the dread.”

  After a moment of hesitation, we accepted the proffered coins. If Thomas wanted to betray us, he’d had ample opportunity in Jacksonville.

  “When you have successfully recovered the artifact that Mr. Sinistra requires you will need to return those,” Bender added. Everyone nodded. We all knew how powerful a sigil infused with blood could be. No one in his right mind would allow such an item out of their sight. It would be too easy to turn it against the caster.

  “It’s past time to explain what’s infesting the grounds,” Mac said. “We’re not stepping off this boat until we understand what’s waiting for us.” Heads nodded all around the circle.

  “Despite Mr. Sinistra’s statements to the contrary, it is not a creature of Hell,” Bender replied. “Through methods unknown, House Sinister was able to procure the services of a darkling to keep us from doing exactly what we’re attempting. It is a creature of the Void, the non-space between the layers of the veil. Objects of faith will have no effect upon it nor will spells designed to contain or banish demons.”

  “Then how are we supposed to fight this creature?”

  “You’re not,” Bender said, “but in the event that I’m unable to keep it distracted you’ll find cold iron bullets and fragmentation grenades in the crates we loaded prior to our departure. I would caution you to use those only as a last resort. We can’t confirm that cold iron is effective against darklings, but in theory they should work. Mr. Sinistra ordered the load . . .

  “In theory?” I interrupted.

  “Darklings appearance upon this plane is so rare that there are no recorded successes in fighting the creatures. Cold iron is unique to this plane; it should be disruptive at the very least. With that in mind, I’ve also included a pouch of filings as well. A circle made from those may provide some measure of protection, but how effectively or for how long I cannot say.”

  “They’ll be useful against your dead men at the Pools,” Thomas roared above the wind.

  “If we understand the mechanism behind the Dust,” Bender added. “If it’s spirits or Fey occupying the bodies, a taste of Cold Iron should drive them out. If not, it’ll leave big holes.”

  “That’s good enough for me,” Stevens growled as he pried open the crates. Nestled in felt- lined racks were brand new M4s, a McMillan TAC338 for Nunez, and half a dozen grenades. A second crate revealed enough ammunition to start a small war. The third held MRE’s and canteens of water, purification tablets, med kits, and matches, everything a growing unit needs for a few days in the field.

  “That hardly looks like enough supplies for more than a couple days,” I said.

  “If you need more than that,” Bender replied, “then we’ve already lost.”

  “And the fourth crate,” I asked. “You got a chopper stashed in there? Thomas never explained how he was getting us to the Dead Pools.”

  “Some things defy explanation. They have to be experienced to be understood.”

  The unit glanced up at that comment; pausing our load out. We were leaking questions, but we’d already run out of time. A dark hand settled over each of us, scratching at our hindbrains. Run, it whispered, flee while there’s still time. All around me the darkening skies took on a malevolent cast. Unseen eyes peered from the shadows, hidden hands sharpened blades.

  It was a trap. I knew it. I could see it in the way Thomas hunched over the wheel shooting furtive glances our way. He’d cut a deal with the OSS or his family. How high would he rise within his House when he handed over our heads? The prodigal son returns. We’d been played and betrayed, lambs being led to the slaughter.

  I reached for my Desert Eagle. I could end this fast. Bullets outpace sorcery every time. Just one shot . . . my hand tangled in my pocket as I reached for the gun. I panicked, my hand thrashing . . . fingers closing around a cool disk of silver.

  The last rays of the dying sun flashed across the deck momentarily blinding me. Panic receded, drawing away like the tide. The spell was broken. I barely made it to the rail before I puked, spewing my lunch over the side. “Holy crap,” I choked, wiping at my mouth.

  “Prepare yourselves!” Thomas called from behind the wheel as he cut the engines. “We’ve arrived.”

  Chapter 29

  Ghost Key, Thursday 1930

  Shadow Bridge

  Shadow Bridge loomed ahead of us; dark stone painted against a bleeding sky. Thomas let the boat’s own momentum carry us forward, aiming for an empty spot on the beach. All around him my unit picked ourselves up off the deck, re-holstered drawn weapons and otherwise shook off the lingering effects of the dread. If anything, Bender had understated the spell’s power. I shuddered at the thought of what it would have been like when fresh. Suddenly Thomas’s stories about House Sinister’s strength didn’t feel like boasting.

  Thomas unlocked the fourth crate as we drifted toward the beach. Ramirez laughed when he peered inside. “What good will swords do?” he asked.

  Thomas slid a dark smoky blade from its leather scabbard. “A blade never jams,” he said as he secured the scabbard over his shoulder. “Besides, there are places we are going where your guns won’t work. But don’t think I don’t appreciate a good gun,” he added and chambered a round in his Beretta.

  A minute later the boat slid to a halt and we quickly splashed ashore. The response was immediate. From somewhere deep within the grounds there
was a crash of breaking glass and then a tremendous roar unlike anything I’d ever heard. It was prehistoric; a howling thunderclap that stretched and tore across the landscape.

  The darkling assembled itself out of the gloom like a spider drawing together the strands of its web. It was a black so deep that the night shimmered around it, pale in comparison. Though we were a hundred yards away it towered above us, booming a challenge that shook the sands.

  “Protect him!” Bender shouted from somewhere to my left, before racing ahead of us.

  Thomas stumbled and looked confused, swinging his head from the silhouette of the enormous house to where Bender disappeared.

  “Which way?” I yelled trying to refocus him. Bender said he was going to distract the creature, but Thomas looked like he wanted to join him. There was a bond there as strong as any within the unit. Suddenly he wrenched his head back from his childhood nightmares and pointed east along the edge of the beach.

  “Follow the shore for a hundred yards and then we’ll make a break for the house,” he cried. “The south wing was furthest from where our bedrooms were and had the lightest protections. Keep behind me though, I don’t know what other surprises my uncles may have left.”

  We moved quickly, guns out and ready. Stevens and Ramirez moved alongside him sweeping the empty beach while the rest of us followed close behind. Thomas stopped occasionally, drawing symbols in the air or muttering something dark and twisted into the gloom. Nothing really slowed us though until we came abreast of the house itself.

  It was huge. Two full stories of dark stone and darker woods blended into what I can only describe as Victorian-fortress. Buttressing along the widows-walk provided ample cover for sniper’s nests, while the narrow windows were a modern nod to medieval arrow slits. I’d expected something dour and rotten, an aging hulk ravaged by storms and the Florida heat, but from the beach it looked as if time had passed it by. An ironwood door dominated the southern wing and offered the only ingress.