Eldritch Ops

by Phipps, C. T.

  “We’ve had no reason to doubt her intentions, but we’ve been careful to take appropriate precautions. For centuries, she’s been a source of the Vampire Nation’s movements and behaviors. Dracula did clue in to Annabelle’s partnership with Division Zero, so we extracted her about a month ago. She’s been helping with our efforts against high-value targets, under supervision, while we make plans to retrieve her husband.”

  I mulled that one over. “I think he’s using Christopher as a weapon to get close to her. He’s uncovered vast amounts of information about your base. If you have any weaknesses, Christopher has found them.”

  “I find that very hard to believe.”

  I struggled not to roll my eyes as we arrived at the elevators and Rebecca called one down. It was the problem with many White Room operatives. They were so intelligent in other areas they had difficulty understanding when something horrible was going to happen.

  Christopher’s experience with Red Room operations had allowed him to find out a staggering amount of intelligence about Division Zero. Whether he’d done it by tapping phones, research, or mesmerism didn’t matter. The fact was, he’d found out damn near everything about this deranged project.

  There was no protecting this place, and I needed to convince my sister of it. Whether or not she was insane, I wasn’t going to abandon her to Dracula’s wrath. He’d been quite clear in his plans for my family.

  “I’m a member of the Committee. Our father is a member of the Committee. Both of us say for you to go. Which means that you need to. It’s the chain of command. When we tug the chain, you get pulled.”

  Rebecca looked as if I was talking crazy. “I’m going to have to clear this with the Chairman—”

  “And he’ll back us up,” I lied, staring at her. I had no idea what the Chairman would say, but he’d just as likely order the place to defend itself to the last man. The man who headed the Committee was not squeamish about sacrificing lives to preserve his agenda.

  “Fine. I’ll make evacuation orders once we get to the central observation platform. We’ll be set back months, but I suppose the net value in lives saved will be worth it,” Rebecca said, relenting. The elevator arrived, its doors opening, and the two of us stepped in. “I think you’re being paranoid, though. This is one of the most secure facilities in the House. It’s not like Dracula is going to drop a bomb on us.”

  “He might,” I said, watching the doors close on us.

  She sighed. “Very well, I suppose we should take appropriate precautions. I’ve not gotten as far as I have in the White Room by being reckless. We can set ourselves up at the beta-site. The Committee has never been more enthusiastic about our work, and with the upcoming war with the Vampire Nation, there’s no chance they won’t approve all the additional upgrades I want installed.”

  Great, they were prepared for an evacuation. I knew this was too easy. “I’m glad to hear that.”

  “Funny how none of this ever landed on my desk. I think I should have been brought up to speed the moment I ascended to the Committee. I agree. The other members chose to censor your information access after you shut down so many long-standing projects. I thought it was unnecessary given you’ve always been a die-hard patriot to the cause of human advancement. Not to mention a veteran soldier of the war against the supernatural, strange girlfriends aside. I welcome your presence here because your lack of approval has always bothered me.”

  I took a deep breath, unsure how to proceed. It was hopeless trying to convince her how wrong this all was, but I had to try. Hypocritical or not, I felt I had to convince her some lines shouldn’t be crossed. “I confess to . . . ambivalence over certain details. May I ask what the endgame is here? What does Protocol Zero accomplish in the long run?”

  “You mean aside from providing valuable field assets? Turning countless monsters into weapons against other monsters?” Rebecca asked like my question was the most ridiculous thing in the world.

  “Yes,” I said, not hesitating.

  Rebecca seemed surprised by my directness. “Oh, well, I suppose I have given the matter little thought. I think it’s time the House started taking the next step. Are you familiar with the concept of memes?”

  Memes were an idea created by biologist and prominent atheist Richard Dawkins. He claimed that cultures propagated their ideas the same way couples propagated their genes. You passed down your views from one generation to the next, influencing those around you. Doctor Dawkins believed a lot of the world’s troubles were due to our inability to separate good memes from the bad.

  “Yes, and I’m unimpressed. Richard Dawkins isn’t the first man to come up with the idea of cultural ideals having a life cycle of their own. The Catholic Church did a pretty extensive analysis of good and evil for irony points.”

  “I don’t believe in good or evil, Derek, just beneficial and harmful behaviors. I think with my research, we can start tackling the harmful behaviors of the world.”

  “You want to start applying your research outside to the rest of the world?” I somehow managed to contain my horror. Who did this to her? “Civilians?”

  “I sense your skepticism. Think about how much change we can enact if we no longer must rely on wrong choices. We could start small, dealing with pedophiles and psychopaths, then go higher and deal with things like error. The House will become a guiding light to the world. We could bring about a new age of prosperity.”

  I wouldn’t trust the House to mow my lawn without putting mines in it, let alone direct the fate of humanity. There was a reason the House stuck to containing the supernatural. When it tried to influence the regular world, things like the Black Sun and stock market crash of 1929 tended to result.

  I tried to figure out how to reply without being condescending. “Yeah, and we could put ‘This is your god’ on money. Only you wouldn’t be able to see without your special glasses.” Okay, I failed. That was very condescending.

  “That’s a movie reference, isn’t it?” Rebecca asked, staring at me as if I hadn’t put down her suggestion.

  “They Live,” I said.

  “Ah,” Rebecca said, nodding. “I’ll stream it.”

  I bit my lip. I didn’t want to yell at my sister even if I thought she sounded like a lunatic. “I’m sorry, but I . . . don’t approve. At all. I think altering people’s decisions via coercive methods is, at best, reprehensible. At worst, I think it runs the risk of disrupting something precious within the human animal and causing it to . . . break. What you’re proposing could drive humanity mad.”

  Rebecca shook her head, as if I were denying the existence of evolution or global warming. “You underestimate me, Derek. I’m not rushing into this half-cocked. This is a research center as well as a place of correction. People talk a great deal about free will, but what we think of as choice is a reaction to stimuli. What shapes our decision-making process is created by our parents, home nations, religions, neighbors, media exposure, and a thousand other people pouring a constant stream of data into our heads. Don’t be fat, don’t vote for the other guy, don’t like Muslims, do like Christians, hate homosexuals, buy our product. It’s an exhausting array of contradictory and nonsensical commands that every human being is overwhelmed by. Countless immoral views from sexual practices to war exist because bad data has accumulated. We can make a real difference by starting to edit the world’s views on a large scale. Which, yes, will involve a lot of subliminal commands and low-scale mesmerism.”

  “All . . . right.” I really had no idea what to say to that little rant.

  “You understand, don’t you?” Rebecca asked, realizing I’d been uncharacteristically silent.

  “I think I do. At least, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt on this.” If I’d said water was dry, I’d have been lying less.

  “Thank you, Derek,” Rebecca said, giving me another hug. “I’ve wanted to reveal this facility to the rest of the family for some time now. This is the future of the House and a chance for us to make c
hanges to the entire world. We don’t have to play peacemaker with the monsters anymore. We can take the fight directly to them. Hell, we can turn them all into assets against the worst of humanity. An army of supernatural killers purging the world of child molesters, war criminals, and worse. The sick can be separated from those who are willfully ignorant and the former cured while the latter are eliminated. Hell, we may not even need to eliminate the latter at all. We can just fix everybody.”

  There was no way I could continue letting this horrible place operate, but my options were limited to becoming the sort of esoterrorist I’d always opposed and sororicide (a.k.a. murdering your sister). Shannon, Malcolm, Penny, and whoever they brought were making their way here even as we spoke. All of them would be happy to help me bring this place collapsing down around Rebecca’s ears, but I wasn’t willing to make the call that needed to be made.

  Rebecca needed either to die or to have her memory of her research erased. That was tantamount to torture, though, and torture of someone infinitely closer to me than the people she was abusing. For a man known by a wide variety of names, all meaning “Killer,” I was a pussy cat when it came to my family.

  I had no plans for dealing with what I’d found here. This was different from an operation designed to re-educate a small number of renegade operatives and sleeper agents. Camp Zero was a full-on military prison that represented a substantial investment for the House. Even if agents complained, it was just as probable the Committee would order a purge of dissenting elements versus shutting this monstrosity down. This was too valuable an asset to stop and might end up in every Division if I exposed it. A House that wanted to brainwash thousands of enemy species into loyal soldiers would not balk at a housecleaning of its own ranks.

  Hell, there was no end of House personnel who’d approve of access to mesmerism and mind control techniques. If Rebecca’s research was as far along as she claimed, it would open a new field of research for agents to specialize in. I was in the Manhattan Project of the mind, and the fate of free will on Earth was on the line.

  The elevator door pinged and its doors opened. Rebecca straightened her shirt. “Oh well, it’s time to meet with Miss Jones. Be on your best behavior, as we couldn’t have completed this project without her.”

  Give me a sample of her blood and I’ll do what must be done. Bloody Mary’s voice was cold but firm.

  I’m not going to let you kill my sister, I said.

  I can do other things, Bloody Mary said. Either way, though, she is a danger. Eviller than many of the monsters you have put down. I would know.

  She is what the House created, I said.

  So are you, Bloody Mary said.

  Following Rebecca, I took in Camp Zero’s central observation room. It was a white room with hundreds of monitors, holographic read-outs, and a dozen Greys working in cooperation with White Room scientists. The screens cycled through images of torture before switching to monsters praying to posters of Rebecca or the House seal. I looked away, searching the room for Annabelle and finding her.

  She was so obvious, I had to shake my head that I’d missed her in my first view. A woman in black mourning attire with a large hat and veil. Annabelle Jones was lovely, her features sculpted like an angel’s, with long dark hair trailing down past her neck. The Elder vampire held an open parasol over her shoulder

  Standing beside her was John Ruthford, six foot five, with a patrician face and perfectly combed blond hair. He was wearing a black shirt and slacks, which underscored the sheer power which radiated off him. Annabelle Jones was probably more powerful than Ruthford, but the terrorist had more of an obvious mystical presence.

  Moving like she was floating, Annabelle turned and approached me, closing her parasol and turning it down like a walking stick. “Ah, Derek Hawthorne, so good to finally meet you. You’re just in time.”

  I faked a smile. “Just in time for what?”

  Annabelle stared at me with cold, unfeeling eyes underneath her veil. It was the gaze of a monster. A bipedal animal out for my blood. “For the end of Camp Zero.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Rebecca looked confused. “Excuse me?”

  “I said Camp Zero is going to be destroyed.” Annabelle practically purred. “And not a moment too soon. Really, I’m surprised Dracula waited this long. I suspect he wanted to make sure you were here, Mister Hawthorne. You’ve managed to irritate him more than any other mortal in the past century, if my contacts are correct.”

  The various people sitting at the controls around us continued to work without acknowledging what Annabelle said. They continued at their positions, oblivious to outside stimuli. This despite the fact the monitors showed images of huge cargo ships docking on the shores of the island, ropes coming over their side, and cranes off-loading huge metal containers.

  We were being invaded. Annabelle curled her lip into a sneer, the contempt in it beyond measure. It was hard to imagine Christopher falling in love with such a woman, beauty aside, which made me wonder how much Dracula had altered his mind to achieve such a result. Was their entire relationship a lie? I hoped so. Otherwise he would hold it against me when I cut her head off.

  “You heard what I said,” Annabelle said. “The sun sets on the House this day, and none too soon for their most Frankensteinian creation.”

  “Actually, I’m quite fond of Frankenstein’s Monster. He helped raise me,” I said, watching the workers shut down all of the automated defenses before turning off the alerts. Camp Zero’s metal doorways opened, leaving the invasion path wide open.

  “You have the staff here mesmerized,” I said, making an observation. “Even the Greys.”

  Annabelle’s voice was entrancing to listen to, like music. “Indeed, Mister Hawthorne. I was the one who gave hints and clues to Christopher, so he could pass them along to Dracula. Now, an army of the dead and half-living will descend upon this place and a bloody war will be fought.”

  “You won’t be able to release the prisoners,” Rebecca said, shaking her head. “Only I can.”

  “A matter of little concern,” Annabelle said. “I have no wish to minimize the casualties the Vampire Nation’s forces will suffer.”

  Annabelle folded up her parasol and raised her veil, revealing a woman whose beauty made me weak in the knees. I took a deep breath and pushed away my awe, remembering she was my enemy. Annabelle was an Elder vampire, which meant anyone who wasn’t conditioned to level six or higher was helpless before her gaze.

  I narrowed my eyes, forcing away my awe at her looks. She was disgusting, and I should remember that. “What is your game, then? Dracula’s attack here will destroy this place, but the House has the Vampire Nation by the balls. The House’s forces hopelessly outnumber anything the Council of Ancients can bring to bear.”

  “Good,” Annabelle said, smiling her bright red lips. They contrasted sharply against her marble-like skin. “I’ve wanted the destruction of the vampire race for centuries. Yet even the Hebrew God betrayed me in the end. The House is every bit as evil as those I have long desired the destruction of. Which is why Camp Zero is such a perfect tool to bring against them both. The Vampire Nation will lose this war, but it will carry stories of the horrors here, and proof of the House’s perfidy, to all corners of the globe. The House can defeat one of the great supernatural nations, but it cannot defeat them all. When the Truth comes out, the world you believe in will burn.”

  “Why would you do this? We trusted you and gave you purpose. We were going to build a better world.” Rebecca’s reaction surprised me.

  Annabelle looked at Rebecca sideways. “My dear, your definition of a better world and mine are quite different. I was going to mesmerize you, but difficult as that would have been, it proved unnecessary. Your unchanged mind is more horrific than any creature I could have turned you into.”

  “So, you led Dracula here. A lot of vampires die, but they bring word of Protocol Zero to the rest of the world. Anarchy reigns?” I asked, raising an e
yebrow. “All for revenge?”

  Annabelle shook her head. “Revenge is far from what motivates me. Hate for a lost loved one lasts only a short while, it turns out. At least, for the immortal. No, Mister Hawthorne, this isn’t about revenge. This is about the realization that there’s something fundamentally wrong with the world and doing something about it.”

  “Even if millions die,” I observed, remembering my vision.

  Annabelle wrinkled her nose. “Millions die every year. It is the process of life. Billions will be able to live because of what I am doing.”

  “What about Christopher?” I asked, surprised I cared more about him than all the House agents who were going to die in a few minutes. “He scoured the world for you. Stole the Bloodsword. Betrayed the Vampire Nation to me. He loves you. This entire sordid business is because he wanted to rescue you from some deep, dark hole he thought you were being held in.”

  “Christopher fell in love with me because he was made to,” Annabelle said. “Dracula controls his minions by giving them what they desire most. Freedom from conscience. Lovers amongst the damned. Wealth. Power. For a time, it was enough to distract me from my beliefs, but Christopher was never anything more than a means to an end—for both me and the Warlord.”

  “Mother, may I?” Ruthford said, seething during our conversation. Gone was the earlier display of a serene brainwashed figure. In its place was a wild animal containing unimaginable rage, every inch of his body radiating fury.

  “Of course, John,” Annabelle said, pulling her parasol down from my chest. “Enjoy yourself.”

  Ruthford then sped around the room, barely visible to the naked eye. The necks of scientists, Greys, monitors, and security guards broke or were torn in two. The vampire terrorist slaughtered everyone inside the control chamber with a furious speed, killing dozens in a span of seconds. It was unnatural, since even the most psychotic vampire would stop to feed with so much blood spilled. Instead, Ruthford’s actions were that of a madman driven to kill.