I thought back to the fight on the boat. I’d thought that the upyr with the mirrored sunglasses had been compelling the rusalka and the crew of the Charles Haskell. Now, it seemed more likely that Carmilla had been compelling all of them from her perch in the cage she’d been “imprisoned” in.
As I’d been reflecting, Carmilla finished draining the man’s soul. Her teeth shifted, the front ones shortening and the canines lengthening, like a traditional vampire’s. Then she bit into his neck and drank.
She repeated the process on the second woodsman, and as she was starting with the third, the sound of someone rushing through the underbrush came to my ears. Carmilla turned as a man dressed in finery came charging through and into the clearing. “She’s over here, Father,” he hollered.
“You may be familiar with certain vampiric weaknesses,” Van Helsing said. “As you can see, sunlight is not a hindrance to a strigoi mort.” As he said it, shafts of sunlight fell across Carmilla’s face, and she didn’t even flinch. The man pulled a flintlock pistol from his belt, took aim, and fired, striking Carmilla squarely in the chest. She fell to the ground with a thud. The man rushed over to inspect his kill, and a lithe, black panther sprang up and ripped out his throat. “Silver bullets are also not a concern to them,” he said sadly. “And, as you have just seen, Carmilla can assume the shape of a giant cat. Vampiric lore has them turning into bats or wolves, but this feline transformation is unique to her. In Romania, some refer to her as colți și gheare—literally, ‘fang and claw.’”
As Carmilla shifted back into human form and began licking the man’s blood from her fingers, a priest in an old-fashioned cassock and wide-brimmed black hat burst into the clearing. He raised a cross, and she hissed at him, scrambling up a nearby tree like a spider.
“Faith in God, however,” Van Helsing said with a smile, “is one thing that remains constant. The crucifix, holy water, the Eucharist, all of these things are fatal to a strigoi mort.” Carmilla crouched in the branches of the tree, twenty feet from the ground. The priest began singing “Ave Maria,” and Carmilla put her hands over her ears and snarled. “For Carmilla in particular, hymns are quite painful. I believe this to be a holdover from her time alive.”
Carmilla’s eyes were glowing red orbs of hate. She reached under her nightshirt and drew a slender knife from a sheath on her thigh. The blade whistled through the air before it struck home, taking the priest in the eye. The clergyman collapsed to the ground, his hat falling over his face.
“And that is the final thing that differentiates Carmilla from other vampiric beings. They typically disdain weapons, believing them to be a show of weakness. Vampires often make shows of swordplay, but when they truly need to kill, they do so with fang and claw. Carmilla has trained with and become an expert on most mortal weapons. I’ve seen her kill with daggers and pistols; it’s how she’s able to so effectively eliminate clergy, as you just saw.”
Carmilla became mist, gently drifted down to the ground, and reassumed human form. She snapped her fingers, and a swarm of rats surged from the woods and began eating the priest. “Carmilla will not feed on the dead,” Van Helsing said. “And she is unable to feed on clergy. So she compels creatures of the night to do that for her. Wolves, spiders, rats.”
“What about other weaknesses?” I asked. “There has to be more than just symbols of faith.”
Van Helsing nodded. “Like vampires, rose thorns can hurt a strigoi mort.”
I slapped my forehead. Of course. The whole reason I’d gotten into trouble with that promise to Megan was because an enchanted rose had detected latent strigoi mort-ness in her and tried to kill her. “Anything else?”
Van Helsing shook his head. “No, Carmilla is a strong creature, and thankfully, one of a kind. She’s the only strigoi mort I’ve ever encountered. We are fortunate that they are not commonplace.”
“What is she after?” I asked. “If I can understand that, maybe I can beat her at her own game.”
Van Helsing’s smile was sad. “The motivations of a being such as Carmilla are complex. Or perhaps they are just so simple that an old man like me can’t help but think they must be complex. I once thought that Carmilla was out for revenge on those who had turned her, but I learned later that she took control of that clan, and Vasylna is now her lieutenant. Marjana, well, she mysteriously wound up outside and unable to enter her coffin one night.” Van Helsing shook his head. “I thought for a time that perhaps Carmilla’s motivations were what Le Fanu wrote in his novel, that she was trying to restore her family to power. Neither of those seemed to fit, though.” He shrugged. “I wish I had more to tell you, son.”
“Trust me, Dr. Van Helsing, what you’ve told me has been a tremendous help.” I shook hands with the hunter of undead, and suddenly, I was back in the Loremaster’s sanctum.
The big man took his hand away from my face and regarded me. “I trust your research was successful?”
“Yes, thanks. I hadn’t expected to meet Van Helsing himself.”
The Loremaster smiled. “True, I could have just given you access to his books, but it seemed a waste to not let you experience his knowledge more intimately.”
“Thanks again, this has given me exactly what I need.” We parted company, and I left the Loremaster’s sanctum and portaled back to my house on Olympus. I found Galahad sitting at the Defender’s table rubbing his temples.
“Boss? You okay?”
He looked up, startled by my sudden appearance. “Ah. Yes. Fine. What did you learn?”
I told him of my time with the Loremaster and what I’d learned about Carmilla. “So I’m thinking once we learn where the upyr are holed up, we can deal with them once and for all. After what I discovered, I think that we can use the same botanical magic that hurt Megan earlier this year to kill Carmilla. Arm everyone with one of those roses, well, everyone except Megan, and we’ve got a great chance at defeating her.”
“The problem there, Vincent, is that we do not have the expertise to do such a thing. Dr. Ryan cannot craft such a weapon, nor can Gearstripper. Mrs. Rita may be able to, but in her present condition, I cannot ask her to attempt such a demanding task.”
I ran a hand through my hair. Damn, that had seemed such like such a good idea. I’d always taken Mrs. Rita for granted, but Galahad was right. “There might be another way,” I said.
“But?” Galahad asked.
“But I’m not going to like it.”
Two minutes later, I was walking up the path to Aphrodite and Hephaestus’s place. Heph’s workshop, an unassuming brick structure was out back, the sound of his hammer ringing against whatever mythical creation he was forging. But I hadn’t come here to see Heph. I rang the doorbell. It actually sounded a gong. A nymph wearing a diaphanous nightie answered the door a moment later.
“I need to speak to Aphrodite,” I said, ignoring the fae’s nudity.
She frowned at me. “The goddess is indisposed,” she said. “You can come back later.”
As she started to close the door in my face, I heard Aphrodite’s voice. “Wait, Milana.” The door opened again, and the goddess of love faced me. Aphrodite barely came up to my chin, her long blonde hair flowing over her bare shoulders. She was going old-school fashion today, clad only in a white toga that hugged her in all the right places. A golden cord cinched about her waist was her only adornment.
“Son of Janus,” she said. Her voice was cool, but not cold. Well, this was off to a better start than I’d been expecting. “Hephaestus is out back.”
“I came here to speak with you, Aphrodite.”
“You are speaking to me. I have things to be about, so be quick.”
I did my best to swallow my pride. “I humbly request your assistance, Aphrodite. A clan of upyr has attacked my friends and me. I would ask that you enchant roses that could destroy them.”
“You wish me to take my favorite flower and turn it into a weapon to be used to save mortal lives?” She shook her head. “No, son of Janus. My idiot husband may be sympathetic to your plights and causes, who knows why, but I am not. If you are in danger, then you are not a man or a god if you cannot get out of it yourself. I fail to see what my daughter sees in you.” And with that, she slammed the door in my face.
I let out a breath. It’d been worth a try.
“Why did you go to her?” A voice asked from behind me. I jolted and saw Panacea standing there.
“What?”
“Aphrodite. You know she doesn’t like you. She rarely misses an opportunity to say how little she cares for you. Any time someone brings up Petra, Aphrodite tsks and launches into a longwinded list of all your faults and shortcomings.”
I shrugged. “Roses are a sacred flower to Aphrodite,” I said. “I need some specially enchanted ones to deal with some nasty undead back home. None of my friends can make them, and I thought she might help me.” I didn’t add that I’d been hoping since Petra had stood up to Aphrodite, that the goddess may have turned over a new leaf. Maybe I should’ve had Petra ask for the flowers. Too late now.
Panacea tipped her head to one side, considering. “Roses are sacred to many goddesses,” she said. “Including me. I could help you.”
I hesitated. I’d also gone to Aphrodite in the hopes that if she did give me the flowers, she’d do it out of respect for the relationship I had with Petra. Other gods and goddesses would likely want payment in one form or another for a request as big as this. I eyed Panacea warily. “And what would you want in exchange for such generosity?”
She blushed and looked at her bare feet, which, despite the fact that she’d walked across dirt to get here, were perfectly clean. “There is one thing,” she said. Her voice was so quiet I had to lean in to hear her. “I wish an introduction.”
I blinked. Who did I know that Panacea could possibly be interested in, let alone be so shy about it? “It would depend on who it was,” I said cautiously. “And understand that I cannot pledge or make anything on that person’s behalf. An introduction, yes, I could likely do that, but I cannot offer anything more.”
Panacea was nodding vigorously. “Of course, of course.”
“All right, so who would you like me to introduce you to?”
“The doctor.”
For a moment, I almost did the Doctor Who? joke to her. Then it hit me who she meant. “Doc Ryan? You want me to introduce you to Doc Ryan?”
“Is there something wrong with him?” she asked earnestly. “He is quite handsome.”
“Doc? Wha— He—” I just didn’t have words. Then again, since Doc’s regeneration back to a man in his forties, he did look a lot better. Good enough to catch a goddess of healing’s eye, anyway. I put up my hands. “Okay, I’ll talk to the doc and see if he’s interested. But I can’t promise anything. Wait here.”
I portaled back to my house and found Doc peering into a microscope. “Doc, I need to talk to you.”
“I’m busy, Corinthos,” Doc Ryan said.
“Doc, I’ve got a goddess of healing who wants to be formally introduced to you.”
He turned from the microscope, a look of complete disgust on his face. “Jesus Christ on a cracker. Kristin is dead, we’re on the run, and I am in no mood for jokes, Corin—”
“No jokes,” I interrupted. “Panacea’s willing to make enchanted roses for us to use against the upyr. Her price is an introduction to you.” I held up a finger, and put another to my lips. Then I opened a peephole-sized portal near Panacea, giving Doc a look at her. I snapped the portal shut a moment later.
“She’s the one who was here last night,” Doc said, running a hand through his now thick hair. “The one who healed Mrs. Rita.”
“Yep. She can heal just about anything, but that potion of hers is limited in the number of times it can be used. If I recall, she was interested in mortal medicine. You guys would have quite a bit to talk about.”
Doc was stunned. “Is this like a date?”
“A little less formal than that, but yeah.”
“I haven’t been on a date in years,” Doc said. And for the first time since I’d known him, the doc looked flustered. “What do I even say?”
“For starters, say yes. Then she comes over here tonight, you guys have some snacks, you chat, you can share stories from the operating room for all I care. But for god’s sake, Doc, just say that you’ll do this.”
Some of the confidence was coming back into Doc’s voice. “A pretty young thing like that can help us fight the upyr, and she wants to go out with me in return.” A smirk appeared on his face, and he swaggered a little as he walked toward me. “What am I doing? I’d be crazy to say no.”
“That’s the spirit, Doc. I’ll tell Panacea the good news.” I portaled back to the spot where I’d left her. “Dr. Ryan would be honored to make your acquaintance, Panacea,” I said. “When should I ask him to expect you?”
Panacea clapped her hands together in delight. “This evening. Would you be willing to host us?”
“Of course,” I said. “Come by my house here on Olympus, and he will be waiting for you. What sort of attire will he require?”
She pursed her lips. “Are those tuxedos still fashionable on the realm of men?”
“They are.”
“One of those, please.”
“Of course,” I said.
“I will need a bit of time to craft the roses,” she said. “I will bring them to you when I meet the good doctor this evening.”
“Panacea, you are a lifesaver.”
She beamed at me. “Excuse me, Vincent, but I have preparations to make.” And with that, she vanished in a pulse of purple light.
I’ve done some really bizarre things in my life. I’m a god. I’m a secret agent. I count dragons and ghosts and gremlins as friends. My girlfriend is an animated statue, and at some point in the future, I’m going to become my favorite comic book character. But of everything I’ve done, everything I’ve seen, playing matchmaker for Doc Ryan was surely one of the most unexpected.
I portaled back to the house and told Doc Ryan about his engagement that evening. “Where am I supposed to find a tuxedo on such short notice?” he asked, when I told him about Panacea’s request.
“Got you covered, Doc,” I said, and led him upstairs. While Commander Courageous had been what the comic books would call a Man of Mystery, he generally flew around in a scarlet and green outfit, and didn’t play the part of the gentleman spy very often. However, this had been my father’s house before it was mine, and Dad kept fashions from every period in time. And, the beauty of Olympian fashion was that it magically retailored itself to fit the wearer.
I pulled a tux from a closet, handed it to Doc, and gave him a wink. That done, I made my way down to the workshop. Gearstripper was a green blur as he shot from tool chests to workbenches. The Billy-Mech was lying on a worktable, his chest cavity open, small wires protruding from the console where Gears sat.
“Vinnie!” he squealed with glee when he saw me. “This is the coolest workshop ever! Well, next to Santa’s. He has elves. You don’t. But this has all of Gizmatron’s equipment!”
Gizmatron 3000 was a time-traveling robot that Commander Courageous had befriended in the “Courage Throughout Time” story arc. The robot came from a future where humanity had wiped itself out in a nuclear holocaust, and he’d traveled back in time in search of heroes to stop the impending disaster before it ever happened. Equipped with technology that was still considered to be brilliant science fiction today, Gizmatron was a fan favorite and periodically still enjoys new mini-series.
“I’m upgrading Billy,” Gears said with a grin. “I’d planned on augmenting his strength, putting in new
servos and the like, but Gizmatronian technology? I never even dreamed... Okay, let’s be honest. I did dream, but I didn’t think it would be possible. When I’m done, Billy will be nearly as strong as Petra.”
I grinned at the gremlin’s enthusiasm. I’d reacted the same way when Commander Courageous had given me my first tour of Courage Point. Of course, his had been in a pocket dimension, not on Olympus. I wondered how that future version of me had acquired such a thing, or if I still would, given that the time stream had been altered.
I shook my head. Focus on the here and now, Corinthos. “Gears, I’m going to need you to rig up something that can do surveillance for us. I’ve got Cather and the kobolds scouting out the upyr’s lair. Once they’ve found it, I want a drone or something that’ll let us thoroughly examine where they are.”
Gears nodded. “That’ll be no problem. Gizmatron’s probes should do the trick.” He gestured to a handful of silvery spheres about the size of billiard balls. “I found the control module for them, just give me a little time to get the feel for them.”
“Great.” I glanced around at the shop. “Do you think you’ve got the right sort of equipment here to repair Jake?”
“Are you kidding? With this stuff, I could put Humpty Dumpty back together again.” Some of the enthusiasm left his face. “Problem is, with no Breath to animate him…” Gears trailed off and spread his hands.
“All right,” I said. “Give me a few minutes to work on that.” I went upstairs to the room where I’d imprisoned Cynthia. She was still bound in the chains, but her eyes were blue again, and her expression had changed to something that more resembled the little mechanical girl that I knew. Older, though, as if she’d matured into a woman overnight.
“Cynthia,” I said gently. “Cynthia, can you hear me?”
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