The Harbinger PI Box Set

by Adam J. Wright

  “Is that DuMont?” I whispered to my father.

  “No,” he said. “I don’t know who he is.”

  “Forgive me,” the man beneath the tree said, “I haven’t introduced myself. My name is John Polidori. Perhaps you’ve heard of me. I know who you are, of course. Thomas and Alec Harbinger, members of the Society of Shadows. I apologize for the treatment you received at the hands of my lackeys. I asked them to bring you to me, but something obviously was misinterpreted somewhere along the way and they tried to kill you. Oh well, all’s well that ends well, I suppose, and vampire lackeys are ten-a-penny these days, so I won’t have any trouble replacing them.”

  Dad looked at me and raised his eyebrows questioningly. “Do you think that’s really John Polidori?”

  I shrugged. John Polidori had been Lord Byron’s physician in the 1800s. He’d been at Byron’s Lake Geneva chateau on the night Mary Shelley had written Frankenstein. That same night, Polidori had written The Vampyre, the first vampire story in the English language.

  I’d seen a few things in my life that most people would call impossible, so this man’s claim—that he was a doctor and writer from the nineteenth century who had known Byron, Mary Shelley, and her husband, the poet Percy Shelley—wasn’t something I’d dismiss out of hand. Of course, if he really was Polidori and was alive today, looking so young, he had to be a vampire himself.

  “No need to look so confused,” he said. “Yes, I’m a vampire. That little story I wrote was partly autobiographical.” He grinned and extended his fangs.

  I drew my sword. The enchanted glow lit up the tombs and the ancient tree with a bright blue light. I didn’t care if this guy had been around for over two hundred years; if he thought he was going to take us on, he’d better have some kickass moves.

  Polidori frowned at me. “There’s no need for that, Alec. I’m not here to fight.”

  “Are you here to meet John DuMont?” I asked. “We were told he’d be here tonight.”

  “Yes, so was I. But I’m afraid he must have known we were coming. He isn’t here.” He stepped forward and floated toward us, landing gently just a few feet in front of us. Now that he was closer, I could see the pale hue of his skin in the blue glow from my sword. I still held the weapon in my hand and I wasn’t ready to put it away just yet. If he really was over two hundred years old, he’d be much stronger than the vamps we’d dealt with at the Egyptian Gate.

  So the witches had been wrong about John DuMont. They’d been right about the vampires, but had led us to believe the creatures were working for DuMont. Well, actually, the witches had been so vague that we had assumed the vamps were working for DuMont. Coming to Highgate Cemetery had been a waste of time; we were no closer to catching the traitor.

  “Why are you interested in DuMont?” I asked Polidori. “Are you working for him?”

  He laughed. “Working for him? I’m not even working with him. I came here to kill the bastard.”

  I wasn’t sure I believed him, but I asked, “Why?”

  “Because you two weren’t going to do it. He’s too powerful. So I came to lend a hand.”

  “You knew we were coming here?” my father asked.

  “Of course, Thomas. Your Society isn’t the only place one can find witches with the power of prophecy. DuMont was supposed to be here tonight to perform some sort of ritual. I was told that you and your son would arrive on the scene to capture him. I came to help you. Well, honestly, I came to kill him. He’s too dangerous to be allowed to live.”

  “I don’t get it,” I told him. “What’s your interest in this?”

  He looked at me as if I had asked the stupidest question in the world. “You know what he’s trying to do, don’t you? He’s in league with an ancient demon called Rekhmire who wants to raise an army of the dead. DuMont is trying to make that possible by finding an ancient box that powers a staff he has in his possession.”

  “The Staff of Midnight,” I said.

  Polidori nodded. “I’ve heard it called that, yes.”

  “Rekhmire was the High Priest of Heliopolis. He created the staff and the box that powers it by imprisoning a sorceress’s heart inside the box. He tried to raise an army in ancient Egypt but was defeated by the pharaoh. Then Rekhmire disappeared.”

  “Well, he’s a demon now,” Polidori said simply. “And he’s using DuMont to find the box so he can raise another army of the dead.”

  “We have to stop him,” my dad said.

  “Yeah,” I said. I looked at Polidori. “But I still don’t get why you’re so interested in stopping DuMont. An army of the dead sounds like a vampire’s wet dream to me.”

  “An army of zombies destroying the human race is not what any vampire wants,” Polidori said. He looked genuinely offended that I could suggest such a thing. “We have co-existed with humans for millennia. Rekhmire’s motives are apocalyptic. Tell me, Alec, how would you respond if someone threatened to destroy all the cattle on the earth?”

  “So that’s what humans are to you? Cattle?”

  He sighed. “To the younger vampires, that is true enough. They see humans simply as a food source and nothing more. But to the older generation, like myself, and those I serve, who are much older than me, humans are much more than simply food. You are entertainment, friends, sometimes allies, sometimes enemies. The relationship between vampires and humans is much more than consumer and food. But, yes, if Rekhmire destroys all of humanity with his army of the dead, the vampires will eventually starve. We need your blood for our own existence to continue.”

  “All right, you’ve convinced me we’re on the same side where Rekhmire is concerned.” I sheathed my sword. “So what do we do now? How do we stop him?”

  “We can’t get to Rekhmire,” he said. “He has DuMont doing all the dirty work for him. I wouldn’t be surprised if Rekhmire is in a different realm of existence at the moment. But we can stop Rekhmire by thwarting DuMont. And we do that by using the box against him.”

  “Use the box against him?” I didn’t tell him that I knew where the box was. I didn’t trust him that much.

  Polidori grinned at me, a flicker of amusement in his dark eyes. “Alec, I know you must have the box. I was told by a witch that you are destined to destroy the heart inside it. Rekhmire and DuMont have obviously heard the same thing, which is why they’ve been trying to kill you.”

  My father looked at me with a shocked expression. “Alec, is this true? You have the box that DuMont wants?”

  I gave Polidori a dirty look and sighed. “Yes, Dad, I have the box.”

  His brows knitted together angrily. “And when were you going to tell me that snippet of information?”

  I shrugged. “I didn’t know it was DuMont who wanted it.” I looked at Polidori. “Are you sure that’s what I’m supposed to do? Destroy it?” I had no intention of destroying the damned heart inside the box; I didn’t want to be cursed by the “one year to live” thing.

  “That’s the prophecy,” Polidori said. “But that doesn’t mean it’s necessarily going to happen. These things are much more fluid than that. Otherwise, I would have simply stayed out of the way and let you do what you are prophesied to do. But here I am, trying to kill DuMont myself. I don’t trust prophecy, Alec.”

  “Neither do I,” I said. “And I have no intention of destroying the Box of Midnight.”

  Polidori said, “Hmm, I know why.” He nodded almost imperceptibly toward my father and raised his eyebrows questioningly. I shook my head. My dad knew nothing of the curse attached to the box and I wanted to keep it that way. Polidori nodded at me, telling me he would keep quiet about it. I hoped I could trust him on that.

  My dad was no fool, though. He noticed the non-verbal exchange between Polidori and me. “What do you mean? Why won’t you destroy it?”

  I fielded his question casually but I doubted I was fooling anyone. “You know what it’s like destroying magical artifacts, Dad. Most of them can only be destroyed by certain methods and the
n you have to deal with the sudden release of magical energy. It’s a pain in the ass.”

  “But worth it if it means we can stop a madman from causing an apocalypse,” he said.

  He was right. Maybe it was worth it. If I destroyed the box, I would only have a year left to live, but wasn’t that a small price to pay for saving the world? If DuMont got his way and raised an army of the dead for Rekhmire, we’d all end up dead anyway.

  “If we don’t destroy it,” Dad continued, “perhaps we can hide it somewhere DuMont won’t find it. The Society has a number of vaults that are hidden and well-guarded.”

  “It doesn’t matter where we hide the box; DuMont can find it as long as he has the staff. The two items are connected to each other.”

  “DuMont has great magical power,” Polidori said, “given to him by his infernal master. No matter how well-guarded your vaults, I fear DuMont would break through your defenses.”

  “You have to destroy the box, Alec,” Dad said. He had no idea what he was saying, what the consequences were.

  “Yes, you do,” Polidori agreed. He knew exactly what he was telling me to do and he seemed amused by it.

  I shrugged and said, “Sure.” I had to get back to Maine anyway. DuMont was bound to show up there sooner or later once the staff led him to the box. I might be able to come up with a different plan in the meantime, one that didn’t involve me getting cursed with a death sentence.

  “I’ll fly back home tomorrow,” I told my dad. “And do what has to be done.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  “You need to be here, Dad, to root out the other traitors in the Society. I can handle this one on my own. Besides, there are a few people in Dearmont who will help me.”

  Polidori nodded to me. “I’ll see you in Dearmont, Alec.”

  “There’s no need for you to….”

  “Still, I’d like to make sure that you do what you are destined to do.” He grinned knowingly at me.

  He wanted to make sure I went through with it. What was he going to do if I didn’t? Force me to destroy the sorceress’s heart?

  “Fine,” I said.

  Polidori gave my father a nod and said, “Mr. Harbinger, it was a pleasure.” With that, he turned and disappeared into the night.

  “Well, this was an interesting evening,” my dad said.

  “Yeah, we should go hunting together more often,” I said.

  We walked back along the Egyptian Avenue and past the gate where we’d killed the vamps.

  “Would you like to come back to the house for a drink?” Dad asked. “We could both use one after tonight. I’ve got some beer in especially for you.”

  “I’d love to, Dad, but I need to get back to the hotel and get some sleep. Can you arrange a plane to take me back home tomorrow?”

  His face fell for just a moment but then he hid his disappointment. “Of course. I’ll arrange a flight for you and Miss Lake first thing tomorrow morning.”

  “Felicity won’t be going back with me,” I said, feeling the loss of my assistant sharply as I spoke the words. “She’s decided to stay here.”

  He looked surprised. “Oh, so you won’t have an assistant. I’ll see to it that you get someone new as soon as possible.”

  I stopped walking and spun him around to face me. “Why, Dad? Most investigators don’t have assistants, so why is it so important to you that I have one?”

  He shrugged, searching for an answer. “You’re my son. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

  “No, there’s more to it than that. You sent Felicity to spy on me. I want to know why.”

  “You don’t want another assistant,” he said, ignoring me and setting off along the moonlit path again. “That’s fine, Alec.”

  I caught up with him. We were almost at the main gate now and he was striding along as if he had to get through it as quickly as possible. He couldn’t escape me that easily; we still had to drive back together.

  “I just want to know why, Dad. I never had an assistant in Chicago, so why did you send Felicity to spy on me when I moved to Dearmont?”

  “Because,” he said, turning to face me angrily, “your mind had been played with by that damned satori. I wanted to know what damage she’d done, how you would be affected.”

  “All she did was remove a couple of days from my memory,” I said. “It was no big deal. Certainly not a big enough deal to send someone to spy on me.”

  “Well, I thought it might be. Aren’t I allowed to worry about my own son?” He turned on his heels and started for the gate again.

  “You never worried about me before, so why start now?” I shouted after him.

  He marched through the gate with no reply.

  I followed him out to where I’d left the Land Rover. He was talking on his phone. After ending the call, he turned to me and said, “There’s no need to give me a lift back. My driver is coming to pick me up.” He folded his arms and stood staring at the road, his face stony.

  “Look, Dad, there’s no need to….”

  “You go back to your hotel and get some rest. I’ll text you the details of your flight.”

  There was no talking to him when he was in his “wounded martyr” mood, so I threw the weapons and shackles into the back of the Land Rover and climbed into the driver’s seat. I didn’t start the engine, though. I wasn’t about to drive away and leave my father standing alone in the dark. So I made myself comfortable and waited.

  Forty minutes later, a set of car headlights appeared on the road and a black Bentley rolled up to my dad. Without a wave or even a look in my direction, he got into the back of the car before the driver even had a chance to get out and open the door for him. The Bentley drove away.

  I cranked the engine on the Land Rover and told myself that everything would seem better in the morning. But I knew I was lying to myself. I was about to fly home, leaving Felicity behind, and probably expose myself to an ancient curse that would kill me.

  Yeah, things were really looking up.

  17

  I arrived in Dearmont the following day, driving up Main Street and past my office. The lights were out and the place looked cold and lonely, despite the bright morning warmth. I felt guilty about leaving without going to visit Felicity again, but she had made it clear that she didn’t want to see me, and I’d decided to respect that. That didn’t make it hurt any less.

  I was tired from a lack of sleep in the hotel last night and a boring flight during which I’d drifted in and out of a light doze. At Bangor International, I’d downed two big cups of coffee before getting into the Land Rover and hitting the road. But even the caffeine couldn’t keep me from feeling like death warmed up. I needed my bed in the worst way possible.

  When I got to my house, I got out of the Land Rover and glanced over at Felicity’s empty house next door. She had loved living there, loved this little town, and loved her job. I still couldn’t believe she’d thrown it all away.

  I went inside my own house and called out, “Mallory, you here?”

  There was no answer other than the low hum of the AC. I cursed my sleep-deprived brain. Of course Mallory wasn’t here, her Jeep wasn’t on the driveway or street outside. I went upstairs, kicked off my boots, and fell onto the bed, barely able to keep my eyes open. Before I let myself slide into sleep, I checked my phone. No messages. No voice mail. Not a word from Felicity.

  I put the phone on the nightstand, not sure what I’d been expecting to see. A text from Felicity saying she’d changed her mind and wanted to come home? That was just wishful thinking. I had to face the fact that I was now the sole employee at Harbinger P.I. That shouldn’t be so bad—it was how I’d always run my business before coming to Dearmont—but the thought of arriving at the office to find Felicity’s desk empty was depressing.

  I closed my eyes, drew in a deep breath, and then let it out slowly, trying to calm my mind. There was no way I was going to sleep if I kept thinking about Felicity. Hell, maybe her staying in England
was for the best. If I was going to destroy the sorceress’s heart and curse myself to just one more year of life, it wouldn’t be fair to grow close to Felicity only to leave her in twelve months’ time.

  Or would it be better to have a great year and go out with a bang? I was contemplating that question when I smelled something that reminded me of a damp cave. I knew I was in my bedroom and not in an actual cave, but my senses acted as if I were deep underground. The sound of dripping water reached my ears. I’d experienced this sensory overload enough times now to know that it was a memory returning. I kept my eyes closed and waited for my mind to recollect images connected to the memory.

  As the images came into focus, I realized I was sitting in a cave that was lit by candles. The candles were positioned around a chalk circle that had been drawn on the stone floor around me. As well as the circle, magical symbols had been drawn on the floor and walls of the cave. In the flickering candlelight, I could make out dark shapes dancing around the circle like liquid shadows, chanting something unintelligible in low, muttered tones.

  I watched the dark figures as they danced and I tried to count them. There were nine. Nine women in dark cloaks, their faces hidden in the depths of their cowls.

  As the memory played out, I realized that these nine women were the witches of the Coven. There was another figure standing in the shadows, just out of reach of the dim candlelight.

  “We will remove it from his mind,” one of the witches said softly.

  “Lock it away,” said another.

  “Behind a door.”

  “A door not to be opened.”

  “He shall not know what he is.”

  “All memory of it gone.”

  “His power is too unpredictable.”

  “Causing death to those around him.”

  “Lock it away.”

  I had no idea what they were talking about. The witches resumed their chanting. I sat still, feeling that I couldn’t leave the circle even if I wanted to. My limbs felt heavy. My thoughts were becoming confused.