Paranormals | Book 3 | Darkness Reigns

by Andrews, Christopher

  Takayasu nodded, but Shockwave did not wait for the order. “Yo, look alive out there! Time to put that gurney to use!”

  The paramedics wheeled their way through the hole — two of the PCA agents had circled the building, and the only two “official” entrances had been sealed and chained when the warehouse was shut down. Vortex — his mask put back in place by Powerhouse — was carefully and cautiously transferred onto the gurney and set up with an IV, Takayasu stumbled around as he kicked his legs to get circulation flowing back into his numb feet, and Walker was awakened and examined to ensure he was all right, just exhausted, then given a towel for his gore-covered hands. Everyone gave the Gladius a wide berth, and neither Shining Star nor Shockwave turned their backs on him.

  As the paramedics wrestled the gurney back outside and the group trailed behind, Takayasu turned to Powerhouse. “Lincoln, I want you to go with them.”

  Powerhouse took so long to respond, he contradicted his own words. “Nah ... no, I’m ... I think I’m good, Lieutenant. I don’t know—”

  “You need to get checked out,” Takayasu insisted. “I know you’ve been hurt — maybe in more ways than one. I want you to submit to a full medical examination, as best they can with that tough skin of yours.”

  Powerhouse nodded, remembering how complicated it had been to evaluate and treat his broken arms last year. “... okay. Okay. I’ll go. I ... yeah, I really don’t feel too good.”

  Takayasu touched his arm in support, and pointedly ignored the derisive grunt it provoked from Shockwave. “As soon as they can give you an ‘all clear,’ I want you right by Vortex’s side. I’ll see who else I can get to back you up. Remember: Whoever, or whatever ...” He glanced at the Gladius with this last part. “... did this to Vortex is still out there. We can’t assume that he’s safe until—”

  “Guys!”

  They all, including the Gladius, spun around in response to Walker’s alarmed exclamation. The tired young man was standing halfway through the hole, but he was peering back into the building itself; he stood hunched over, very still, except for one hand that was waving to get their attention.

  Takayasu hurried over to him. “What, Jeremy? What is it?”

  Walker looked at him, his eyes wide. “That ... that wasn’t there before, right? Right?”

  Takayasu eased Walker aside so that he could step back into the warehouse, trying to follow the line of Walker’s pointing finger. The poor lighting didn’t help, but Walker appeared to have been indicating the gory mess left by Vortex. The pool of Vortex’s blood was well disturbed by this point, with smears and knee prints and footprints, and even wheel treads to one side where the gurney had been rolled. The sight remained unsettling, sure, but he didn’t understand—

  Then he saw it.

  “They weren’t there before,” Walker reiterated, as though he wanted confirmation that he wasn’t going crazy, “right?”

  “No,” the lieutenant assured him. “They were not there before.”

  Amid all the marks throughout Vortex’s red and browning cruor, Takayasu and Walker stared down at eight particular streaks — in two sets of four — which began near the center of the pool and dragged all the way through the edge. The streaks were perhaps a little narrow, a little pointed where they started, but they were nonetheless recognizable as having been created by fingers dragged through the drying blood.

  “We ... we were here,” Walker muttered in a shaky voice. “Right here. I mean I was standing right here when whoever did that.” He looked around the shadowy warehouse; having missed the augmented darkness from earlier, he didn’t know just how much darker the large open room could have been.

  “The hell?” Shockwave commented from behind Takayasu’s left shoulder.

  “What is it?” he heard Shining Star ask.

  “I can tell you.”

  Takayasu backed out through the hole — and nudged Walker to do the same — before turning around to face the Gladius.

  The Gladius stood with his arms crossed, his timeworn rucksack slung over his shoulder, the flashing lights of the ambulance glistening off the chainmail woven through the leather of his black outfit. He continued, “I can tell you without even looking: Something disconcerting has happened. Either elaborate or simple, you spotted something that unnerved you in that it was done right under our noses, without any of us having a clue what was going on.” His eyes shifted, suggesting raised eyebrows. “Am I right?”

  Takayasu held back, determined not to fall for any sort of “cold reading” trick, but Walker blurted out, “Vortex’s blood. Someone’s been, I don’t know, playing with—”

  “Lieutenant!” called one of the PCA field agents. “Lieutenant, could you join us for a second?”

  Takayasu sighed. Trudging toward the corner of the building from where the agent had called, he did not object when the others (except for Powerhouse, who was climbing into the ambulance, as ordered) followed.

  “What is it, Ensign?” he asked as they rounded the corner.

  Ensigns Martinez and Hardy were shining Maglites up on the side of the building, running the beams over something about twelve feet off the ground. Martinez explained, “Thought you needed to have eyes on this, Lieutenant. Some freaky shit.”

  “Is it blood?” asked the Gladius as the group worked their way around. “Pink blood?”

  “Definitely not pink,” Hardy answered, his eyes never leaving the wall. “But I’m pretty sure it’s blood. And it was not here when we scoped out the building before.”

  “It’s pretty high up,” Martinez scolded him, though he didn’t sound very confident. “You probably just missed it.”

  Hardy said nothing, but grunted his low opinion of that explanation.

  Takayasu added his flashlight to theirs, and they all took in the sight.

  Smeared over the wall in literal blood red were the surprisingly neat words:

  Die now Die later

  Your little Vortex will meet

  that sweet release

  And below that, in fainter letters as the blood ran thin:

  He Will Die Gladius will cry

  “Shit,” Shockwave commented. “That’s Vortex’s blood. Isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” the Gladius answered.

  The area brightened a touch; it took a moment for Takayasu and the others to realize that it was Shining Star, whose aura had flared.

  “In his current state, Lincoln cannot protect Vortex.” The Grand Lord’s jaw was clenched so hard, he had trouble speaking. “I’m following the ambulance.”

  “I agree with Shining Star,” the Gladius stated. “I would also like to provide protection for ... Vortex.”

  Takayasu noticed that Gladius’ voice sounded a little shaky. He asked Shining Star, “Are you comfortable with that, Callin?”

  Walker jumped in first. “Guys, he helped save Vortex. Seriously, I’m telling you, without this man, Vortex would be dead.”

  Takayasu considered this. “All right.” He met the Gladius’ eyes. “You’re full of tricks. I don’t suppose you can fly?”

  He half meant it as a joke, but the Gladius answered it straight. “Levitate, yes. Fly, no.”

  “All right. Callin, are you comfortable giving him a lift, like you do with Vortex?”

  Shining Star stared hard at the Gladius, so much that Takayasu really thought he was going to decline. Instead, he pulled his eye-mask from his belt and slipped it on while releasing a clipped, “If you make trouble, I’ll drop you.”

  The Gladius nodded. “Understood.”

  “All right, then,” Takayasu stated. “Go.”

  Shining Star moved behind the Gladius, nudged his arms apart until he could slip his hands into the newcomer’s armpits, and without another word, took to the sky, arcing over to tail the ambulance as it got underway toward the hospital.

  Takayasu addressed Martinez and Hardy, “Thank you for calling this to our attention. We are retreating back to HQ.”

  Hardy nodded his
complete and utter agreement with that sentiment, but Martinez gestured at the blood-message and looked like he was about to protest.

  “This area is not secure,” Takayasu cut him off. “We are dealing with something new and different. Maybe a rogue, maybe not, but we are in the enemy’s element here. Pack it up. Now.”

  “Us, too?” Shockwave asked.

  “Us, too,” Takayasu confirmed.

  Shockwave half-shrugged, took one last glance at the blood-message, and meandered after the ensigns without further comment. Walker hustled after him.

  The lieutenant took several pictures of the message with his phone, and then followed.

  THE GLADIUS AND SHINING STAR

  The hero known to the world as Vortex — but known to John as his little brother — was wheeled into emergency surgery as soon as he arrived at the nearest hospital. Given the nature of the patient’s injuries, the medical team were also preparing to deal with forthcoming sepsis and other secondary complications, but thanks to his magic and the paranormal efforts of Walker, John knew they were all in for a pleasant surprise. Once Steve was patched back together, he suspected Vortex’s “miraculous” recovery would set some sort of hospital record.

  Assuming, of course, that the Skygger did not return to finish the job. And that was not an assumption John could afford to make.

  With this in mind, both John and Callin — whom the hospital staff kept addressing as “Shining Star” — stood sentry over the surgery from the operating theater’s observation deck. The staff initially resisted this arrangement, as the upper deck was intended for senior medical personnel and medical students, until Callin convinced them otherwise — he had mainly employed his status as a foreign dignitary (which explained the accent), but his apparent fame probably hadn’t hurt. He had also spent time using an unfamiliar communication device to pass along information to his people — “the Taalu”? — ordering them to recall a delegation from Ecuador and go on alert until further notice; apparently, he had siblings who would prove important in this area.

  From all of these little tidbits, John had figured out that there was far more to this “Shining Star” than his being a mere paranormal. And he might have pursued this out of curiosity, had he not been so preoccupied with his brother.

  John surprised himself with just how moved he was to see Steve again, let alone the fact that his brother had very nearly died within minutes of their foiled reunion. He spent so many years believing his brother long dead, the concept of Steve’s being alive after all, and needing his protection, felt surreal. And yet ... when they pulled off Steve’s Vortex mask, and John saw his brother’s deathly pale face for the first time in hundreds of years ...

  The door behind them opened. John’s right hand moved to his sword hilt on impulse, but he also noted that the sound was casual, and so he only offered a sideways glance to verify that it was one of the PCA field agents from earlier.

  But what if the Skygger takes one of these forms? What then?

  He would have to think on that.

  “Sir,” the agent said, speaking to Callin with deference, “Powerhouse is waiting for an MRI now. We explained to the radiologist that standard x-rays wouldn’t be enough, but they’re hoping an MRI might work better, so they moved him to the front of the line.”

  John tried to remember what an “MRI” was. It had been so long ... Was it like an x-ray, only better? That’s what it sounded like.

  To his casual surprise, Callin also hesitated, then said, “I take it this ... ‘MRI’ ... is necessary, Lieutenant Gant?”

  “Yes, sir. The neurologist says that Powerhouse ... well, he’s showing signs of having a concussion.”

  “A concussion?”

  The agent shrugged. “Yes, sir. I can’t explain it, sir, I’m just passing it along.”

  Callin did something with his head, a sort of odd bobble on his neck that, from context, suggested he was nodding. “Understood. Keep me informed, Lieutenant.”

  “Yes, sir, Shining Star,” the agent said as he left.

  The door closed, and the two resumed their quiet vigil over Steve and the surgeons surrounding him. Why was “Shining Star” so surprised — shocked, really — to hear that Powerhouse might have a concussion? John could only assume he was one very tough paranormal.

  So they went back to waiting. John was tempted to try another Sentietiam spell, but not only had his magical clairvoyance proven unreliable when it came to the Skygger, he was reluctant to turn his focus that far inward in front of this stranger with whom he held a tentative truce.

  Without warning or preamble, Callin declared, “We need to talk,” and removed his goggles as he turned his remarkable silver eyes upon John.

  There it is. John had known this was coming, was surprised that it had taken so long to arrive. And it wasn’t that he didn’t want to share information with these people — far from it, if they were going to fight the Skygger together, to protect Steve. But he found it difficult to look away from his brother, so vulnerable below them.

  Wouldn’t Dryal be surprised to see me behaving so ... flappable.

  “Agreed,” he said at last. “If I may ask something first ...?”

  “All right.”

  “Earlier, before our ... misunderstanding ... when I stated that I knew what had sliced open—” He came a hair’s breadth from saying “my brother,” and course-corrected. “... your friend, you latched onto the ‘what.’ As though it meant something to you?”

  Shining Star cocked his narrow head to one side and remained silent for a moment. For the first time, John noticed that there was something strange about his hair, too — it looked almost sponge-like; very dark and unnaturally dense. And that was on top of those silver irises of his, and his odd teeth. But before he could dwell on any of this, Callin spoke up.

  “Earlier tonight, before Vortex cried out, I saw someone. Someone whom I did not believe was still alive. This person — allegedly my grandfather — warned me that a creature ‘from another dimension’ had come to Earth. He told me that this creature was cruel, and very dangerous.” Callin glanced down toward Steve. “Is that what attacked Vortex?” he asked — except it was less a question, and more a rather regal demand for information. “You proclaim to know something of what is going on. Is it this ‘creature from another dimension’ that struck down my friend?”

  “I believe so, yes,” John told him. “As I shared back in the warehouse, the creature is called the Skygger, and yes, it is from another dimension. And as your grandfather told you, it is very cruel and extremely dangerous.”

  Callin grunted, “I am not convinced that it was my grandfather.”

  John nodded. “And nor should you be.” He turned to face the other, though only so far that he could continue to monitor the operating theater from the side of his eye. “The Skygger is, among other things, a vicious trickster. It has demonstrated the ability to pluck things from a person’s mind — images, personal information — and to couple that with its power of illusion. It gives the impression that it is a shapeshifter, though I am not entirely certain how much of that is literal or hallucinatory.”

  “My grandfather ...” Callin mused. “He looked almost exactly the same as the recordings I have seen of him. Somewhat older, but not nearly enough, considering the forty or so years that have passed.”

  “Then it is entirely possible that your ‘grandfather’ was, in fact, the Skygger. Although, I must admit, I don’t see the advantage in its warning you about itself. In my experience, it should have, at best, left you in a disoriented state, or at worst, killed you while your guard was down.”

  Callin faced fully ahead again, peering down at Steve. “Do you think that’s what happened to Vortex?”

  John nodded. “Yes. And, based on his reaction upon seeing me in that lucid moment, I suspect the Skygger may have appeared as me.” The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he could not deny that it made sense — going forward, his dealings with Steve would
be even more complicated than before.

  “Why?” Callin challenged him. “Why would it choose to appear as you? Why would the illusion of you allow it to get close to him?”

  John chose his words carefully, still uncertain as to the wisdom of sharing his true identity. “It must have known I was following it, hunting it. Since it did not kill your friend outright — for reasons all its own — it may have hoped for exactly what it got: Vortex was afraid of me, and that turned all of you against me before I could explain myself, almost before I could save him.”

  Shining Star pondered that, and John let him. Finally, the paranormal said, “It might not have known about Jeremy Walker. Truthfully: If you, and you alone, had attempted to save Vortex from that wound ... especially after the delay brought on by our confrontation ... would he have died?”

  John fought to keep his voice steady as he answered, “Yes. I have no doubt.”

  “So ... it appears as you. Gets close enough to Vortex to mortally wound him. We arrive, then you arrive. Then Vortex expresses fear at seeing you, we waste time fighting ... and, if it weren’t for Jeremy, he would have died. Died in front of you.”

  “Yes.”

  Callin turned to him once more. “You told us that you arrived at that abandoned warehouse to protect ‘someone you care about, someone threatened by the Skygger’.”

  John held his breath a moment before saying, “Yes.”

  “Who?” Shining Star’s challenging tone was back. “Who were you there to protect, this person you care about? Where is this person now? Why are you not looking for them, rather than standing guard over Vortex? And why did the blood-message say Vortex’s dying would make you ‘cry’?”

  Damn it.

  John could think of no evasion. But what would this mean? How would Shining Star react to John’s proclaiming himself Steve’s long-lost brother? Would it make the situation better, or worse? The last thing he needed was to get sidetracked by explaining himself as a missing person — probably presumed dead, given the shit-storm he fled that night.