Derindi saw the bottom of the shaft rushing toward him in the green glow of the nightvision goggles. He slammed his hands and feet against the sides of the chute in a desperate attempt to slow down. At the last second, he ducked his head and used his hands to absorb some of the impact. He rolled out of the shaft and spun across the room, crashing into a stack of kegs before he could stop. He could hear the Wildsnake slosh around inside and scuttled away before any of the kegs fell over on top of him.
‘Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!’ he cried. Luckily, it seemed Nemo was attending to other matters, for there was no response from his ear drum receiver. Derindi took stock. He had no protruding bones, no gushing blood, and the rocking keg hadn’t fallen. Pain shot up his forearms, though, and it felt like somebody was pounding a beat on both of his elbows. Plus a drip, drip, drip on his cheek told the snitch that his wounded ear had bled through the bandage.
But he was alive and inside Hagen’s Hole. At least that part of the plan had worked out. He listened at the shaft, but heard no more banging. Whatever had been following him had gone, or was simply waiting for him to climb back out. From here, he could climb up into Hagen’s, spy on the patrons from a special panel that he was sure none of the bounty hunters even knew about, or move one of the kegs and gain access to an escape hatch that would get him out of Glory Hole for good.
Derindi sighed and crept under the stairway into a crawl space. This area was filled with old pipes and conduits from the time that Hagen’s had been a power station. It was a maze that extended throughout most of the basement. The floor was sticky from centuries of ooze and muck mixed with layer upon layer of dust. It was like walking through paste.
After several twists and turns, the snitch stopped and looked up at the low ceiling. This was the worst part. The spy panel was a simple sliding door, but he knew from experience what lay on the other side. The panel opened up beneath the grate floor in the middle of Hagen’s front room; the grate that constantly filled with the effluvia from the bar above.
There was normally a table set over the panel. Derindi and a few others who knew about the panel would always ‘help’ each new Hagen find the best layout for the place, taking care to preserve their own special spyhole. But Derindi knew the table only protected the panel so much and Hagen’s would likely be busy at this time of day. He slid it back as quickly as he could, pulling his aching arm down and away with a jerk.
It didn’t matter. No matter how quickly Derindi moved, the mixture of Wildsnake, spit, blood and too many other liquids too awful to imagine always sluiced through the opening and coated his forearm. He waited another minute to let the last drop of ooze drip onto the floor, and then climbed onto the pipes to stick his head through the opening.
A small section of floor above the panel had been cleared of most pipes, giving Derindi a clear view of the bar through the grate floor. A commotion must have erupted at the front of the bar just moments earlier because everyone in the bar was rushing toward the door. All he could see was feet and legs running past him, and he could hear nothing but shouting.
A moment later a single voice rang out and quieted the mob. ‘Shut up, you band of scum,’ yelled Yolanda, ‘and let me through.’ The Hole went completely quiet, and the next thing that Derindi heard made his heart skip a beat. It was the clang, clang, clang of boots against the grate, just like he’d heard on the pipe. As the crowd parted, he saw the normally graceful, long-legged Yolanda stomping toward him under the weight of a body slung over her shoulder.
As Yolanda came closer he lost sight of her face and the body as they were blocked by the table. With a thump, the body was slung practically on top of Derindi, making him jump. He almost screamed when he saw that the body was missing its head.
‘It’s Beddy all right,’ he heard Yolanda say. He pulled his eyes away from the headless corpse and looked at the legs surrounding the table. There were Yolanda’s bare thighs, Hern’s camo pants and thick boots, Gorgh’s knee-high snakeskin boots with the hidden boot knife, and Lebow’s suede boots sticking out from his tight, red pants. Across the table from this group stood someone wearing white leather strides and matching shoes: The King! Derindi knew he didn’t want to be seen in this bar today.
‘She’s been completely drained of blood,’ said Yolanda. ‘Damndest thing I ever saw.’
‘She’s not the first,’ said another voice. It was Hagen. Derindi recognised his shabby grey dungarees with the stains on the thighs where he wiped his hands. ‘The beast got Bester two nights ago and a shopkeeper yesterday.’
‘Beddy thought it was a vampire,’ said another voice that he knew to be Skreed. ‘She went out to search for it to get the bounty.’
‘I’d say she found it,’ said Yolanda.
‘Where’d you find her?’ asked Hern
‘That depends,’ said Yolanda.
‘On what?’
‘On how big the bounty is on this beast.’
‘Two thousand credits,’ said a voice Derindi recognized as Scabbs. ‘Hi Yolanda. Am I glad to see you!’
‘In that case, Hern, that is information for me and my partners only.’
‘Make that partner,’ said Scabbs.
There was a pause and Derindi gulped as he guessed what was coming next.
‘Why? Where’s Jerico?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Scabbs. ‘He’s been gone for hours. I kinda hoped he was with you.’
Oh crap, thought Derindi. He dropped down to the floor and closed the panel. He needed to make a report to Nemo. The spymaster wasn’t going to be happy about this.
Obidiah Clein and an entourage of royal guards escorted Kal, fully clothed once again, through the lush quarters of Gerontius Helmawr’s estate. The affluence of the palace gave the bounty hunter some pause. The walls were a mosaic of individually carved and highly polished stones arranged to depict scenes from the history of House Helmawr. The floors were carpeted in a plush, white fabric that made it feel like he was walking on piles of fur. At one point, the guards marched him past a series of real wooden doors, carved in bas relief with the busts of House rulers from ages past.
Then there was the light. The light never ceased to amaze Jerico. Sure, he’d experienced it before. He’d grown up a Spire brat, and had even spent some time recently above the Spiral Gates. But this was his first good look at the palace, and the sunshine shone with a brilliance here that was unsurpassed anywhere else in the Hive. The light streamed in from banks of windows. Every room, every hallway, every corridor was bathed in the golden rays of the sun.
It was almost enough to make Kal think of giving up his life in the gloom of the Underhive, but as he looked at the faces of the guards who, even without their uniforms, all looked alike, Kal knew he was not built for this life. Too many rules. Too much boredom. March here. March there. Do what you’re told. Don’t talk back. Kal Jerico had never been very good at obeying orders.
But now here he was, marching to the beat of Lord Helmawr. The whole thing left a bad taste in his mouth, like a half-bitten snake. Of course, the Spire did have its perks, like sunshine, liquor that wasn’t strained through Hagen’s old socks, food you could actually taste and clean women who could do interesting tricks with grapes. Hell, just eating fresh fruit was a trick in the Underhive.
So, he’d listen to his lordship’s proposal, for why else go to all the trouble of dragging him up to the very top of the Hive except to make him do something he didn’t want to do? Kal didn’t do anything without payment, and Helmawr would have to come up with some amazing bounty to make Kal Jerico sit up and salute, and perhaps that same payment might just make it worthwhile.
As he ruminated on what his price might be, the group came to a sudden stop outside a plain-looking door. Kal noticed he was no longer bathed in sunlight. In fact, he now realised that the last few rooms had gotten gradually darker. The door opened. It was thick, like the door to a vault, and moved slowly inward. The room beyond was pitch black, except for a bank of lights shining in the
distance.
The guard behind Kal pushed him into the room. Kal instinctively swivelled and kicked the man in the groin. The other guards drew weapons and pointed them at the bounty hunter. ‘Sorry,’ said Kal with a slight smirk on his face. ‘He touched me, I touched him.’ He looked down at the guard curled into a ball. ‘Better get some ice on that.’ Kal turned and strode across the black room toward the light. Clein followed, but the guards remained at the door.
The scene at the other end of the room was almost surreal. A lone desk sat in the dark with lights blaring into the faces of five men, two of whom obviously dominated the others. One freakishly tall with sharp features who glared at everyone and another who reminded Kal of a battle tank, a massive battle tank ready to run over anything in its path. There were also shapes in the shadows behind the desk, but with the light in his eyes, Kal couldn’t see anything much beyond the top of the desk.
‘Who is this?’ asked a voice from the shadows.
Clein answered. ‘Kal Jerico, your lordship. As you requested.’
‘I requested?’ asked the voice. ‘Why would I request to see someone I don’t even know?’
Kal heard the collective sigh from the other men in the room. All, that is, except Clein, who leaned in to Kal and whispered, ‘He has good days and bad days.’
‘I can guess which this is,’ replied Kal. He pushed his way past the hawk and the tank and jumped up on the desk. ‘It’s me, Father,’ he said into the darkness. He kicked at Clein who began pulling on his ankle. ‘Kal Jerico, bounty hunter.’
‘My son?’ asked the voice. ‘I don’t have any sons.’ Kal could hear another noise in the darkness, like rats scrabbling on the ground. He squinted to see in the gloom. There were four young men in white tunics and breeches, busily writing on parchment they held in their hands.
‘Yes, you do, sire,’ Clein said. He’d given up on pulling Kal off the desk, and was obviously trying to move the meeting along. ‘Many, in fact.’
‘I doubt you remember Mother,’ said Kal. He sat down on the dark side of the desk and looked at his father. Helmawr looked like a man of fifty, with a thick shock of silver hair and chiselled features that reminded Kal of his own face. Of course, Jerico knew that the Lord of the Spire must be well over two hundred years old. The body had held up well. Too bad about his mind, though. ‘I’m your son, all right,’ he said. ‘Not that you ever gave me any birthday presents.’
‘Never?’ asked the still confused Helmawr. The scribes busily wrote down everything said in the room. ‘Clein, give my son something fitting,’ he said. ‘I know. Give him the spear I received on my last birthday.’ He leaned in toward Kal. ‘I think you will like that one, and I don’t have much use for spears these days.’
Kal easily resisted the urge to give the old man a hug. A slight cough from Clein behind him made the bounty hunter realise he should move this along. ‘Well, I’ve taken up enough of your time,’ he said as he stood. ‘I’m going to go talk with these men about that job you wanted me to handle.’
The light of recognition still failed to flare in the old man’s face, but the canny Clein was more than ready to handle the situation. ‘Yes, sire,’ Clein interrupted, ‘young Kal is the man who I earlier recommended might be of use to use in the… present situation.’
‘Ah yes,’ groaned Helmawr. ‘The Armand problem. My other son. Well, one of my other sons. Very bad one at that. Stole from me. Go find him, Kal. Find him and bring back–’
‘Yes sir!’ cut in Clein. ‘Mr Jerico’s right. We won’t take up any more of your time. I can brief Kal on the particulars while we retrieve that birthday present.’
Without another word from Clein, Jerico found himself surrounded by guards again, who hustled him out of the room. The one he’d kicked kept his distance and glared at the bounty hunter as they left the gloom and made their way back toward the light.
‘He’s not coming back, is he?’ Yolanda asked. Hagen’s hole had finally calmed down. Most of the mercenaries had left to search for the vampire. Yolanda was fairly certain it wouldn’t come out of hiding for a while after its large Beddy meal, so she wasn’t worried. Besides, she was the only one who knew where to start looking.
‘No, I don’t really think so,’ replied Scabbs. ‘He didn’t even say goodbye. He must have been pretty mad at me.’
‘Wasn’t you he was mad at,’ said Yolanda, staring into the nearly empty bottle of Wildsnake. She’d been nursing the bottle for an hour or so, waiting for Kal to return. She hated the vile stuff, but you couldn’t be one of the boys unless you drank the ‘Snake. The whole ‘Snake. So there she sat, staring at the little guy wriggling in the bottom of the bottle. It would be so much easier if she could just shoot it, but no, the code said you had to swallow the snake or bite it in half. Neither was all that much fun, really, but if there was one thing Yolanda was known for, it was for taking the whole snake, usually in one go. ‘I guess I shouldn’t have walked out like that, but he didn’t even try to stop me, so good riddance I say.’
Scabbs nodded, which caused a cascade of dried skin to flake off his face. ‘It’s not like this is the first time he’s done this disappearing act,’ he said. ‘And we do just fine together without him.’
‘You saying you want to team up again?’ asked Yolanda. The snake was still wriggling.
Scabbs nodded again. ‘Yeah. We had fun together.’
Yolanda smiled. ‘Like that time with the plague zombies? Now that was a hoot.’ Scabbs had stopped nodding, but Yolanda barely noticed. She was getting caught up in the moment. She picked up the bottle, swallowed the last swig along with the snake, then slammed the bottle down and jumped up from the table and grabbed Scabbs around the shoulders as he peered around the bar, as if looking for a means of escape.
‘Besides, Scabbs, old pal,’ she said as she pulled him hard against her leather-encased bosom, ‘when our partner left us, he took the bounty with him.’
‘You mean?’
Yolanda nodded again. ‘Yep. We’re broke.’ She pulled him towards the door. ‘Now, let’s go find us a vampire. I’ve got a great plan. We’ll wait until it’s hungry again, and then give it something really scabby to eat.’
Derindi saw Yolanda and Scabbs leave Hagen’s Hole from his hiding place on the roof of the bar. He was still a little spooked from his last trip across the conduits, but now realised that the heavy footsteps had belonged to the amazonian Yolanda weighed down by a dead body. He slipped out from behind the pipes and scrambled across the top of the conduit to cross the street behind the retreating duo.
With Jerico missing, Nemo had told Derindi to follow Scabbs and Yolanda. They would almost certainly lead him back to the wayward bounty hunter. As he landed on the roof where the first vampire attack took place, Derindi felt the hair on the back of his neck tingle. The place spooked him, and he didn’t want to become a vampire meal, but it was still preferable to the unbearable and unending torture he would face if he failed.
He ran across the roof, keeping his eyes up in the air to spot incoming vampires. Unfortunately, he didn’t see the hole in the roof. As he fell into the darkness, Derindi yelled, ‘Oh crap!’ and then instantly regretted it as his inner ear exploded with the response from Nemo.
Kal strapped on his weapon belt and checked the many daggers placed strategically about his body to make sure he hadn’t missed any. They had returned to the quarters where he had spent a sleepy night and fun-filled morning with the girls. Sadly, their contract had obviously run out, because they were no longer in the suite.
‘So, basically, you just want me to find this Armand Helmawr,’ said Kal, ‘who, if I understand you right, is bat crap insane and sporadically homicidal, and then relieve him of some item. But you won’t tell me what the item is, you have no idea where he’s gone, and I can’t tell anyone else what I’m doing or who I’m looking for. Does that about sum it up?’
‘Yes,’ said Obidiah Clein.
‘Not a problem,’ said Kal. ‘And my fe
e for this bounty hunt is?’
‘I have been authorised by Lord Helmawr to grant you full diplomatic privileges as an heir to the throne of House Helmawr, rightful and just rulers of Hive Primus.’
‘Would I get an allowance with that?’ Kal asked as he searched his pack and bags.
‘Each of Lord Helmawr’s legitimate heirs gets an annual stipend in the amount of 100,000 credits.’
‘Annually? Huh! That’s a decent bounty.’ Kal straightened up. ‘Say, you didn’t see a head in my stuff when you guys stripped me, did you?’
Clein cringed. ‘Yes. It was disgusting. We had it incinerated.’
‘Then you can add fifteen hundred credits to that stipend,’ Kal said. ‘That’s what that head was worth.’ He slung the much lighter pack over his shoulder. ‘Oh, and before I go, where’s my birthday present?’
‘I sent Valtin Schemko to get it,’ admitted Clein. ‘He will meet us at one of the secret entrances to the Helmawr estate and escort you back to Hive City.’
‘Whoa,’ said Kal. He stopped and stared down at the short administrator. To Clein’s credit, he didn’t flinch a bit. ‘I thought I was to work alone. You know, not tell anyone about who I’m going after? I don’t need some pernickety bureaucrat hanging around while I’m working. I have a certain style, and that tends to get crimped by little toadies getting themselves killed around me.’
‘This is non-negotiable,’ said Clein. ‘Valtin will accompany you and return with you and the item if you are successful. You need not fear for his safety. He is one of my personal guards.’
Kal looked around at Clein’s entourage. One of the guards was missing. He got a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach as he searched their faces. Yes. He was right. The missing guard was the very same one he had kicked in the groin. This was going to be so much fun.
Clein smiled. ‘Please take good care of my guard. Without him, you’ll have a very difficult time getting back into the Spire once the job is done. Remember, 100,000 credits per year, plus access to girls like Candi, Brandi, and Sandi any time you like.’
Blood Royal Page 7
