by Gavin Green
We negotiated on a few other little things - including me getting roped into checking up on his stupid fish - until Viggo got to his last subject of concern. "There is one more issue, perhaps the most important one," he said. "You must look after Clara for me."
There it was. I normally would've been happy to agree, no deals or barters necessary. I liked the girl. She was a little lost, a little broken, but she had a good heart. It was obvious Viggo treasured Clara like a real father would his own daughter. And, in a truly shitty move, I was going to use that emotional bond against him. "Clara, hmm; that could turn out to be one hell of a chore . . ." I drew it out like I hadn't already planned that exact scenario. "Alright, fine," I finally agreed, "I'll look after her . . ."
"Ah, good; now we can -"
"If," I interjected.
"If what?" he asked cautiously. "I thought you simply agreed."
"Not so easy, sir - you wanted to see how well I barter. I have to pay you back for tricking me into that whole extinct fish thing. Now, I'll look after Clara . . . if you give me all of your hoarded numen."
I'd never felt like a bigger piece of shit in my life. I just hoped it was worth it.
CELLS
"You do not know what you are asking for," Viggo said in a rumbling, serious tone.
"I think I have a pretty good idea, sir."
A frown crossed his cracked-earth face. "If you truly did, then you would know that I cannot agree to your terms in their entirety. And to use your sister as a pawn . . ." He shook his head in disapproval.
"Sir, we've both got our own agendas. I just had to play the game for mine. You should've known that I'll always look after Clara - you didn't have to ask. Either you doubted my character, or I'm a better actor than I thought. It doesn't matter now; I still respect you, I still look up to you, and I'll miss you while you're gone. But you have some numen stored away somewhere, and they'll do me a lot more good than they would a slumbering Eidolon. So, tell me why you can't agree to the 'terms in their entirety'."
Viggo stood, held an arm out, and said, "Let me show you why."
Void-walking into a place of darkness and stale air, Viggo told me, "There is no other way to this location than by the means we have just taken." I could tell by the sounds that he opened a nearby door and stepped into an adjoining space. A bare bulb clicked on in an overhead socket. Blinking the spots out of my eyes, I saw that I stood in a stone hallway. In front of me was the open door that led to a small room. Behind me, the hallway went for another ten paces and stopped where the bedrock had collapsed.
A large stone sarcophagus dominated the small, roughly square room. Carved onto the heavy lid were letters and runes. Near it on the floor was a box of wooden stakes. To my left was a matching wrought iron set of desk and chair, and a car battery on the floor next to them. Attached to the battery was a pair of wires that ran up the wall and across the ceiling, powering the bulb. The wires continued to my right, into another chiseled hallway.
Viggo gestured for me to take a better look down that lit hall. I stepped into the room and went to the entry of it. I stood there for a minute, looking at the hallway I dreamt of once. Into the bedrock was cut a six-foot wide passage that stretched a long way back. It looked bigger because of the high, uneven ceiling. Along both sides were rough entrances into small rooms, dozens of them, stretching away into the distance. Each entry had an iron gate for a door, with a simple latch for each.
"Holy shit," I blurted before I could stop myself, "how many hemos have you got down here?"
"The number of numen stored here is not as important as why some of them are here. Some were merely irritants," Viggo explained with a shrug as he started down the hall of gates. "Mr. Dean, for example, is in this room here." I peered into the room; the hallway lights shone on a simple wooden coffin with a manila folder lying on top of it. "I promised Mr. Tomasino I would release him," he said with a twinge of regret. "I will see to it tomorrow evening."
It was worse than I thought. Dozens of hemos were staked and thrown in boxes down there. Their cheap tombs sat in the dark cells of a lost underground tunnel. Some of those poor bastards, like Dean the douche, were prisoners only because they were pains in the ass. How much of a problem could Dean have been for Viggo? Hell, I could kick his butt when I was human. And here was a kicker: some of those hemos had been locked away a hell of a lot longer than Dean. Viggo stole their lives for being irritating. "Okay, so what about the others?" Part of me didn't want to know.
"Many of them are the reason I cannot fully agree to your request. Some have developed serious derangements." I almost made a comment about the irony of him saying that. "Others," he continued, "have succumbed to the dark ardor; they have degenerated into beasts in constant states of blood-lust. None of them should be allowed to rise again, although it is not for me to end their existences."
I wondered if Viggo ever listened to himself. He'd already passed judgment, so why half-ass it? Then again, I got why some of them were down there in the first place. "Does anyone else know about all of this?" I asked. It'd be good to know who knew what.
"Only to a vague degree," Viggo casually answered. "I did state at Lady Le Meur's last Gathering that I was the cause of disappearances within the collective over the years. But as for all this, only Aldo and you have seen it. Clara, through her insights, is aware of it. Aldo has offered in the past to do away with those individuals who are unfit for society. For his sake, I did not allow it; systematic elimination such as he proposed leads down a cold, dark path. I presume you have no intentions of placing any of these individuals into his stern care?"
"No - hell, no," I quickly replied. "That might make me greedy like him, but I don't care. Skala won't get anything from me other than hospitality and a thin layer of respect."
"Although he is one of my own scions, I understand your perspective."
I wanted to ask about the Deviants who were most likely locked away - Harlan, Wayne, Pedro, and Ragna at least - but I figured we'd come across each one soon enough. I planned to read the folders of each and every hemo down there, and make my list of who I wanted.
Yeah, I know, that was pretty damn judgmental on my part, too, but I couldn't take them all. By the sound of it, there were some hemos better left down there. I couldn't fix 'em, and I wouldn't kill 'em, so there really wasn't an option. Sometimes having a conscience sucks.
NUTSHELL
Reading files and making my own notes took a while, but I'd made my selections of hemos who wouldn't automatically go ape-shit when I woke them. We were both sleepy by the time we were done. Viggo slept in the sarcophagus. He decided to get used to the padded interior since it was where he planned to take his extended slumber. Good placement, too - no one would ever find him down there.
I had no other options than to lay down on the cold, hard floor for some shut-eye. Nothing new there; I'd had to deal with the same type of accommodations a few times while on military missions overseas. That didn't mean it didn't suck. Surprisingly, though, I didn't have any sore muscles or numbness when I woke up. It was one of the few perks of being a hemo.
Moving filled coffins and ourselves via the void, Viggo and I stepped out into one of Traeg's warehouses. I chose that location to temporarily store the chosen hemos because there was room for them to be hidden, it was relatively safe, and I couldn't think of another good spot. Viggo called Traeg to let him know what we were doing and not to fuck with the cargo. Once the coffins were stacked in a corner and covered with a tarp, we void-walked back to the thunderdome.
Up in the lounge, Viggo commented on my place. He said it was functional and had its uses, but he hadn't planned for it to be a permanent residence. He called it drab, and that the neighborhood was lean for proper feeding. I didn't want to look a gift-horse in the mouth, but I had to agree.
"No scion of mine should be relegated to such a locale," he stated. "Leo, I offer you better lodgings of your choosing. Bear in mind that it should either be completely hidden,
or given a public purpose for the sake of camouflage. What would you desire?"
"Public purpose . . . You mean like a business or something?" When he nodded, I said, "Well hell, if there was a house or apartment magically attached to a shooting range, I'd be tickled pink."
Then it was time for more red-tape bullshit. Considering I'm referring to people's lives, that sounded pretty glib. Then again, getting bogged down in the morality of it all wasn't going to do me any good.
For the next goddamn week, it was nothing but meetings, discussions, messaging, and more meetings. Getting all the minions organized and deciding on plans was a brain-numbing pain in the ass, all just so Viggo could take an extended vacation in a stone coffin. I'm not gonna drag you through the details, so this is it in a nutshell in case you give a shit:
* My mentor turned out to be Grigori Olinchenko. Viggo had the wandering Outsider pay off his debt by sticking around for a while to help me if I needed it. Grigori didn't seem to mind.
* ShadoWorks gave my LLC, Norbeck Limited, a chunk of land in a growing eastern K.C. Suburb; that land had a recently vacated bowling alley on it (closed because of lease violations).
* Viggo had his construction minion design and began rebuilding the interior of the bowling alley into an indoor shooting range, complete with a restricted-access apartment below part of it.
* I named the shooting range 'Corrective Action'.
* A huge chunk of starting capital was given to Norbeck to cover all fees, construction costs, décor and fancy touches, upcoming salaries, full inventory, and any other damn thing I could think of.
* Gwen chose to work for me. Traeg was farmed out to Skin - a logical move.
* Viggo insisted - more like demanded - that I include two of his personal property managers, reclusive Keith Pierson and Norwegian Rolf Staalsen, as minions. I did.
* Besides Gwen, Keith and Rolf, my other necessary minion choices (because of how long they'd been serving Viggo) were the Water Department supervisor and the construction company owner/operator.
* Rune, one of Viggo's elder minions (and the only one I knew), decided to continue in my service; her candid opinion of Skala was unflattering.
* I offered Gwen a job as general manager of Corrective Action, and contacted Diego (who had been relegated to light contracts at Silas) about the floor manager position; they both accepted.
* Skin took over Gwen's security tape scanning duties; Barnabus was given Agent Rutherford of the FBI, the janitor at Realm, and Natalie at the IRS.
I realize shuffling all of Viggo's minions around like that makes it sound like we were herding cattle and bringing them to auction. . . Well, shit, that's pretty much what it was. I wasn't fond of the idea or the practice, but Viggo made it clear that having human pawns increases the odds of a hemo's survival. And I was all about survival.
FAREWELL
It was time to say goodbye to Viggo. All the loose ends were tied off, all his ducks were in a row, and he was ready to go. More than ready, actually - I'd never seen him so mellow and content. He, Aldo and I were once again in the Deviant cave, the one with modern electronics, a bed in an alcove, and bits and pieces of history scattered around the big room.
I had to ask, "Sir, why are we meeting here? I thought we'd all be down where your sarcophagus is."
"You were hoping to perhaps tuck your sire in? How sentimental," Aldo interjected with a sour tone.
"Could you stop being a condescending shit stain for one minute?" The words slipped out before I could stop myself, but I didn't regret saying them.
"Scions, please," Viggo said casually from the comfort of a recliner chair. "I will not let bickering be the last words I hear for centuries. Leo, to answer your question, Aldo has not mastered the Gift of the Void to the degree I have. He can transport himself only, so you would be trapped there. That limitation is why your blood-brother flew into town; he wanted two of his minions with him."
I was in no position to throw that in Aldo's face. "Oh, okay," I said quickly to move past it. "What about Clara? Why isn't she here with us to see you off?"
"I have already spoken with her." He turned his head to Aldo. "She has been made aware that you will also be leaving this evening, and that she may call you at any time for any reason." Viggo ignored his frown and said to me, "Clara has also been informed of the location of your future residence, Leo."
"And she'll always be welcome there, sir. Don't worry, I'll keep my word."
Satisfied with my response, Viggo changed the subject. "Aldo, you only slumbered for 144 years, but you were woken prematurely. I expect to rest for much longer. However, I will allow you, Leo, to rouse me once you are able to travel to my resting place."
"What, you mean void-walk? Uh, okay." I turned to Aldo and asked, "How long did it take you to learn the Void Gift to that level?"
He locked his shark eyes on mine. "The stronger the ability of a Gift, Mr. Beck, the longer it takes to acquire it." With an implied challenge, he gave me the answer. "I practiced for nearly four centuries to learn void-walking."
Well, fuck. I couldn't picture forty years ahead, let alone four hundred.
Viggo spoke again, pulling me from my thoughts. "None but you, my own progeny, know without doubt that I am going to take my slumber at last. It would be best to keep that secret, if only for the sake of keeping the local collective wary."
"What of the two Deviants to whom you offered a number of your lesser minions?" Aldo asked.
Viggo shrugged. "Although Mr. Merritt and Mr. O'Shaughnessy have strong suspicions of my plans, they have no fact or proof. I did not insult them with lies, but neither did I disclose any motives behind my generosity. While they may have most likely come to the correct conclusion, I believe they both have the wisdom not to speak of their presumptions."
"Yeah, I don't think they would," I agreed.
Viggo pushed himself out of the chair. "It is time to bid this age of gadgetry a fond farewell." We stood, and he shook our hands. "My good scions, I must depart. May you fare well and account for yourselves honorably. Auf Wiedersehen." He straightened his coat and walked back into the shadows near the bed. As an expanding pocket of the void gathered in front of him, he turned and looked at me. "Leo," he said, "you have begun well, but you should have had better insight when you bartered with me. The 'hall of gates', as you called it . . . Did you think that was the only one?"
Son of a bitch - I should've known. I was about to say something, but he turned and disappeared. No long, weepy goodbyes for my sire. Viggo was gone. There was an unexpected loneliness attached to that fact, and also a mild sensation of freedom. I wasn't going to dwell on it.
"I must be on my way as well," Aldo announced, like it was just as big of a deal. "Kurt and Karl have my luggage and await my presence."
Trying one last time to be nice, I asked, "Did you want a ride back out to the airport?" I was hoping he'd say no, but I at least made a half-assed effort. A wasted effort, as it turned out.
"No need," Aldo replied with a surly tone. "Goodbye, Mr. Beck." He went to the same dark spot as Viggo had and, without another word, created his own void and stepped into it. I wasn't sorry to see Aldo go. I wondered why he stuck around as long as he did. Then again, he was gone, so I stopped giving a shit.
I stood there in silence for a few seconds, alone in a cave decorated with someone else's extensive past. On my way out, I noticed something on the table next to the sturdy iron door. On a whim, I thought, Eh, fuck it, someone's bound to take it - may as well be me. The helmet full of coins jingled as I made my way up the narrow stairs.
STRANGE
Three nights later, it was only about an hour before dawn when I pulled my truck into the big garage of the thunderdome. It'd been a good night. I was actually happy. Go figure.
I woke up with an idea of how to plan my minion feedings. Viggo needed to feed his minions every five weeks or so. With my slightly weaker blood, the time got condensed. So, I thought of the lunar cycle. Every
new moon, I'd meet all my minions individually. Not a bad plan, right?
The evening started with a meeting I'd arranged with Gwen and Diego at the refurbished fire station. I figured since they were going to be running my gun range, they'd better get used to each other. Gwen knew how to run things and keep a tight ship; she did it all at Silas. Diego, besides being good with people, knew more about guns than I ever would. I was relieved to have them both.
I'd planned ahead, and Gwen was on board. I let her and Diego talk for a while before I made myself known. Using a trick I learned from Viggo, I used strips of the void to cover my face within the hood of my jacket. Diego freaked out a little, but not too bad. Gwen and I talked to him about the well-hidden, darker existence we were involved with. I gave him the choice to be part of it.
Gwen drank first from my Viking horn. With her assurance, Diego sipped and then gulped. He stopped smiling when I let my face be seen, but his stare was one of intense curiosity rather than horror.
After the meeting with Gwen and Diego was another short one with Ed Lockwood, the construction company boss. I met him at his house with the intention of getting to know him better, and also to get a set of keys to my new place. While I was there, I told Ed I wanted a big garage bay attached with a security door from the storage room. Hey, I was a business owner; I wasn't gonna leave my truck out in the parking lot.
The sign for Corrective Action was up, the reworked exterior was almost complete, and the lot had new tar and paint. The inside was coming together quick. Permits were hung on a wall, codes were being met, and there was probably less than a week's worth of work to be done.
There were plans to open the doors around the first of September after Gwen and Diego hired a staff, got a website going, advertised, and stocked up on inventory. All I cared about was getting a t-shirt with the cool logo on it. You know - priorities.
