Darkness Returns (10 page)

Without any others of his kind to refer to, he had no idea how to interpret his condition, nor how to treat it. He needed help from his own people. And there was only one way to reach those people.

The Return.

An hour or two passed before Kress had the energy to get up off the floor. He took a scalding shower, sluicing away the tears and snot, and loosing the knots in his muscles. In his robe, he sat down in front of his massive plasma television and watched the news. Mortals suffering through their mortal problems—though a few stories might have had unseen paranormal influences. When the celebrity gossip came on, Kress tuned out. Most of the things they talked about he knew were outright lies, since he personally knew many of the celebs they nattered on about.

He let his mind drift to the problem at hand.

They had the Chosen One.

She had succeeded in staunching the vampire apocalypse—however round-about that result came. According to prophecy, all that remained was for her to bring about The Return.

But how?

More importantly, when?

Kress did not have much more time. He could not afford to wait for prophecy. Something, anything, had to be done to hurry it along.

Chapter Eleven

Four days of “lockdown.” Jessie had watched so many movies during that time, she lost track of which ones she had already seen. Some, she knew, she had rescreened three times. Her favorites, like
Chinatown
,
North-by-Northwest
,
Rear Window
,
The Matrix
, and
Mary Poppins
—which was the closest she came to fantasy and horror movies anymore—had lost their flavor. Used to be, she could hear those famous words,
It’s Chinatown, Jake
, a thousand times and still get a chill. Now, the images played across the screen, she aimed her eyes at them, and that about summed up the entire movie-going experience for her.

The credits to
Toy Story 2
rolled. Jessie rubbed her eyes and groaned. “That’s the closest I’ve been to a Woody in a long time.” Her joke rang out to the empty apartment suite and fell flat. Dad was off working out his frustrations in the gym. He had tried to sit through the movie marathon with her, but only made it halfway through the first day of “lockdown” before mumbling something about fictional lives too stupid to live…grumble, grumble.

The clock on the wall said it was one PM, though it could have been the middle of the night for all Jessie knew thanks to the special blinds built into their windows that completely blocked out sunlight. She hadn’t slept since the start of this lockdown, or what felt like one of Mom’s old fashioned groundings. She found herself agreeing more and more with her dad’s assessment of Kress. It seemed a little paranoid and stupid to lock themselves up just because Teresa had rocked on down to crazy town.

“Let’s go out there, bag her, wrap her up all warm in a comfy straight jacket, and get on with things,” Jessie had suggested to her father on day two.

“It’s not my call,” was his lame ass reply. Who the hell had neutered her dad? That’s what Jessie wanted to know.

She didn’t give him grief, though. She could tell he wasn’t much happier about the strategy than her. Though she had to wonder what the president thought about Kress keeping his top assets out of the supernatural war games.

Why don’t you give the prez a call and ask him? Or you can get real and put on another movie.

When she stood up, a wooziness swooped over her. She leaned against the couch arm to steady herself. A rippling sensation rolled up her arms, her legs, and up through her throat. It was as if her arteries were shifting under her skin. She recognized the feelings for what they were right away and looked toward the kitchenette at her own special fridge.

She grunted.

Vampire hunger pangs.

She missed a plain old stomach growl.

Lightheaded, she shuffled into the kitchenette, pulled open her fridge, and stared at the rows of blood-filled vials inside. “What are you in the mood for, Jess? Blueberry? Cherry? Banana cream?” She sighed, grabbed the closest vial, popped the top, and guzzled.

Her arteries tingled.

She capped the vial, placed it on a rack on the counter where the empties could get reused, then grabbed two more from the fridge and headed back to the couch. She was halfway to the couch, and through the second vial, when the knock came.

Two quick raps.

Then Kress came in without waiting for an invitation.

“Dude,” Jessie said, glaring at him wide-eyed. “I could have been in here naked.”

His gaze flicked to the vials she had in hand and he grinned. “You usually dine in the nude?”

She didn’t like the way he looked at the vials, or at her. She pulled the vials close to her chest and turned to her side, all at once self-conscious. Her lips felt wet. When she wiped at them with the back of her hand, it came away with a smear of blood. The salty iron taste still coated her tongue.

“That’s not the point. You can’t just barge in here.”

He gave a stiff bow, like an English butler. “My apologies.”

“What do you want?”

As if he owned the place—which, technically, he did—he wandered on in, hands folded behind him, looking around like the Inspector General or something. He squinted at the TV screen, which showed a list of her recently watched films on the menu screen. “I don’t see any of mine.”

“Yeah, well, it’s kind of weird seeing you in movies now that I know you. By the way, and my bad if I already asked this, what…do…you…want?”

He turned from the TV, straightened his posture, and gave her a serious once over. “I have a mission for you.”

“No more lockdown?”

“This is a special circumstance.”

She tried to hide the relief and excitement from her voice. “I’ll grab my dad and meet you in the command center.”

Kress’s brought his hands out from behind him. Now he clasped them in front, which made him look like an undertaker at a gravesite. “This mission is strictly for you, and highly classified.”

Something brushed Jessie’s ear like a small breeze, or a silent whisper. The sensation sent a sick quiver through her. This didn’t feel right. “You’re going to send me on an operation without my dad? Without even telling him?”

“Your father specifically came to me to ask you to join our organization. He wants you to be one of us. That means you follow the command structure, with me at the top and your father second.”

“Yeah,” she said, drawing it out. “But he isn’t going to like it.”

“That’s the point. It doesn’t matter if he likes it. You both take orders from me. In this case, I need you on something and it’ll go much more…smoothly…if Mr. Lockman isn’t involved.”

“Which means whatever you want me to do would piss him off if he found out.”

He shrugged. “He isn’t going to find out.”

Definitely not right. Yet her curiosity was peaked. And anything sounded better than lockdown. If Kress wanted to believe she would actually keep secrets from Craig, let him believe it. If it turned out to be something she felt her dad needed to know, though, Kress couldn’t do a thing to stop her from telling him about it.

Jessie raised the pair of vials in her hand as if in a toast. “Let me finish my lunch and change. I’ve been wearing these sweatpants for three days.”

Kress took Jessie to a room she had never been in before, yet the moment she stepped inside she felt like she knew it well, like the most vivid déjà vu in history. The marble floor, the pentagram carved into the center, the ghastly mural on the ceiling, and the circular wall surrounding it all. The smell of ozone prickled the hairs in Jessie’s nostrils. That strange mute whisper feeling kissed her ear again. She swatted at the ear as if a fly had buzzed her.

The temperature in the room sat a good ten degrees or more cooler than the hallway they entered from. The door into the room made a metallic clang when Kress closed it behind them, like the door to a bank vault.

The mural above depicted a holy war above an Earth cracked nearly in half. Great pillars of fire and magma shot from the main chasm and several accompanying fissures on either side. Angelic and demonic winged beings swooped through the air, armed with golden swords and silver-tipped spears, some engaged in gory battle. Impalings. Beheadings. Guttings. The artist seemed to have a thing for dangling entrails, too.

Sick shit.

And painted so realistically, the mural gave the illusion of movement. Whenever Jessie’s gaze shifted to a different section of the painting, she swore it had changed when she then looked back.

“Who painted that?”

“That mural,” Kress said, his voice smooth and resonant in the round room, “is nearly as old as the Earth itself.”

“How did it end up here?”

“It was always here. I had my structure built around it.”

Jessie knew from the trip on the elevator that they were on one of the underground levels. She suddenly felt very small, young, and insignificant in the presence of this ancient place. “What is it?”

Kress craned his neck back to join Jessie in her marveling at the mural. He had a half smile on his face and a glaze in his eyes that made him look a little stoned. Jessie found herself starting at him now instead of the mural.

“What is it,” he said. “What…is…it.” He slowly shook his head. “I don’t know if I can explain. It’s a great place of power. It’s where your mother’s power was awakened.”

That dizzy déjà vu struck her again. She looked down at the pentagram inlaid into the marble floor. Her blood seemed to bubble, as if boiling. Her heart thumped. A feeling, like drowning, smothered her.

“Jessie?”

She looked up. Kress was watching her, that stoned glaze still in his eyes, but the small smile replaced with a deep frown.

“What’s the matter?”

She pointed at the pentagram, its nearest point about a foot from where she stood. “Something happened there. With Mom.”

His eyes widened. His gaze turned to where she pointed. “Do you…remember?”

“How could I remember? I wasn’t here.” She felt cranky. Actually wanted to go back to the apartment and watch another movie. Something light and ridiculous, like
Spaceballs
. “She never had a chance to tell me what you did to her.”

“You say that like we harmed her. We brought her great power. What happened to her in this room is what ultimately led to Gabriel’s defeat.”

“Then how come I get a little sick to my stomach looking down at that thing?”

For a handful of seconds he stared down at the pentagram without saying anything. Then he sniffed, brushed his hands together as if they were dusty, and faced Jessie. “I brought you here for a reason.”

Jessie looked from side to side, noticing for the first time that the golden walls reflected light, yet the room didn’t have any visible light source. She also noticed the temperature had risen since they first entered. The air even felt a touch on the humid side.

“This where my secret mission is?”

“You’ve heard a hundred times about your role as the Chosen One—”

“More like a thousand.”

“You take it lightly?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know how to take it. Three years ago I was just a kid who couldn’t stand her mom, hated her step-dad, and had dreams of running off to Hollywood to make it big as a filmmaker. Turned out, I didn’t know my mom as well as I thought, I had a damn good reason for hating my step-dad, seeing as he turned out to be a werewolf and all, and my big dreams will never happen because I’m a freaking vampire now.”

“You’ve had a difficult road.”

Jessie snorted. “No, dude. There ain’t no road. I’ve been off-roading it the last few years.”

Kress smiled, chuckled. “I think you would have made a fine filmmaker. But you are destined for greater things.”

“If you say so.”

“Jessie, you are the key to bringing balance back to the mortal plane. You are the one meant to trigger The Return and send the supernaturals back to where they belong. That is a
big
deal.”

“What about people like me? Will I go back to wherever the vamps belong even though I started here?”

His hesitation sent a chill up Jessie’s spine.

“We don’t know the specifics. We’re talking about a prophecy pieced together from texts belonging to at least a hundred different paranormal races. Ogres, vampires, were-creatures of all kinds. The Return won’t eliminate the supernatural. Magic is as real on the mortal plane as it is anywhere. But many of the beings that now call this plane home defy the natural order.”

“At least according to a bunch of old books.”

Jessie turned and paced away, head tilted back to admire the mural. No,
admire
wasn’t the right word.
Marvel
was probably better. Despite its gruesome subject matter, the painting resonated a frightening beauty. Looking at it, she felt the same way she did watching a nature show about dangerous creatures like great whites or black mambas, both horrified and amazed.

“After all you have seen,” Kress said. His voice sounded thick and hungry. “You can still doubt your significance?”