Ibenus (Valducan series) (11 page)

"So there you have it," TommyD's voiceover continues. "Honest to God Chupacabra, completely corresponding with descriptions on the 1996 Jalisco photographs, the 2004 San Marcos videos, the 2011 El Paso pictures, and dozens more. Skeptics always claim that these reports are merely coyotes or foxes with mange and that no captured or killed specimen has ever proven to be otherwise. But now…now we know why.

"Tell me what you think in the comments below, and if you have any videos or tips, please email me. As always, I keep my sources strictly anonymous. So keep your ears to the ground and cameras ready. The monsters are among us. Until next time, TommyD, signing out."

Chapter Nine

Victoria stepped into the shower and closed her eyes. She leaned her head back, allowing the hot water to rinse away the sweat and lingering exhaustion. The unfamiliar bed in a house of strangers had made sleeping difficult. Without the Wi-Fi password and her phone still not returned to her, she'd simply lain there in the dark, replaying the weird turn her life had suddenly taken.

When sleep finally did come it was short-lived. Allan had roused her at six for a morning run. Bright-eyed, shaved, and wearing a dreadful neon lime green shirt, he practically pushed her out the door where they joined Gerhard, Luc, Chaya, and Sam.

The nagging suspicion that she was a prisoner was quashed when they'd left the estate's grounds and jogged in a haphazard line along the road outside. The bright lights that lined all of Belgium's streets replaced the feeling of being out in the country with one of being some of the last people on Earth. A tree-lined street, brighter than anything in Manchester, and no one on it but half a dozen runners and a few morning commuters. This whole affair wasn't at all what she'd imagined. Then again she wasn't entirely sure what she had expected when Allan invited her to join them. Some run-down converted warehouse, or some mercenary training camp, perhaps? Whatever she'd envisioned, it certainly wasn't an antique-filled mansion with morning jogs and luxuriating in a marble bathroom. It reminded her more of some lavish spa or celebrity rehab center where millionaires atoned for their vices.

Missing her own shampoo, Victoria selected one of the bottles in the shower. Its fruity mint fragrance filled the tight stall as she stood there, letting it rinse, her mind wandering. She needed her phone back. Surely TommyD had heard of the fire. He'd be worried.

Just a quick message. That's all it'd take. That and the promise that his questions might soon be answered. Surely they'd let her have her phone back soon.

The shower done, she stepped out, nearly slipping on the tiles, ice-slick with condensation. Hazards of a marble floor. Toweling off, she wiped the foggy mirror and had opened her toiletry bag when a knock came from the door.

"Yes?"

"Can I use the shower?" Chaya asked from the other side.

Shit
. Distracted with her thoughts, she'd forgotten the others would be waiting. She reached for her towel. "Yes, I'm done."

She barely had it on when Chaya squeezed in through the door, dressed in a smoky gray robe and her curly hair still tied up from their run.

"I'll be out in a second," Victoria said, quickly tucking her unused toothbrush back into the bag. She'd do that after breakfast.

Chaya only grunted as she turned on the water.

Victoria held her breath.
Get it over with now
. "I'd like to apologize…for…what happened." She turned to see Chaya disrobe, no modesty whatsoever. Victoria maintained eye contact, but not before noticing the gold Star of David hanging from her neck. Not exactly what she'd expected to see, given the obviously Muslim scimitar the woman carried.

Chaya looked at her, expression blank. "Have you apologized to Sam?"

"Not yet."

"Apologize to her." She stepped into the shower and moved behind the half-wall of frosted glass. "If you want respect, you have to earn it."

"I understand," Victoria said, fighting to keep her voice calm. "I just wanted to say that I was sorry. I mean, we're under the same roof now and I don't want any bad blood from the other night."

"Then don't use my shampoo."

"Sorry." Victoria touched the zipper tab to closer her bag, but paused.
Can't earn her respect if you let her chase you out
. She pulled out her brush and toothpaste.

#

"There you are," Allan said as she made it back to her room. He'd changed to gray shirt and jeans, his sword casually hanging from his belt like it was nothing unusual. "Ready for breakfast?"

"Absolutely."

"Come on then. We have a long day."

She followed him through the mansion's halls, lined with their abundant mirrors and portraits of former members, each prominently displaying their weapons. They passed another of those gaudy bouquets, its smell not as eye-watering now that she was getting used to it. Either that or the growing aroma of food was distracting her senses. "I was wondering if we might go into town later. I have a few things I need to pick up."

"Of course." He led her into the kitchen where Orlovski was chasing sausage disks across a streaming skillet with a spatula. "Good morning."

"Morning." He motioned his head to a covered bowl. "Eggs?"

"Of course."

Following Allan's lead, Victoria filled a plate with scrambled eggs and sausage and carried through the door into the dining room.

"Orlovski always cooks the same thing when it's his turn at breakfast." Allan whispered. "The man loves his eggs."

"That's fine with me," she said, taking a seat at the long dining table.

Turgen sat at the far end, studying a tablet screen. He glanced up, giving them a silent nod before resuming his reading.

"I said that at first, too. You don't happen to be a gourmet chef or anything?"

She shook her head.

Allan shrugged. "Pity. We're in charge of supper Thursday."

A sudden nervous chill welled in Victoria's chest and flowed down her arms. "Oh."

Allan grinned as he forked his eggs. "Don't worry. None of us are what you'd call skilled cooks."

After they ate, Allan led Victoria down a flight of stairs hidden behind a steel, mirrored door. The posh rugs and ornate molding gave way to concrete walls and floors tiled in an elaborate and random mosaic of jade, obsidian, tigers eye, and a hundred other minerals and metals, most of which she couldn't even begin to identify.

"What is this place?" she asked, noting the very new and very expensive looking fire suppression system running along the ceiling.

"Previous owners built most of this in the Forties. The Order picked it up for a bargain after the war and added a little more during the restoration. It goes two levels down." He stopped before a metal keypad. "Don't worry. One of the first orders of business was ripping out all the swastikas." Allan typed in a five-digit code and opened the door. "After you."

Victoria stepped inside to an enormous library lined with a rainbow of books housed in thick glass shelves. Black singe marks marred many of the leather spines and she remembered Allan's story of the betrayer who had burned them. Several cases of photographs and antiques lined one wall beneath a collection of damaged paintings. A ring of tables occupied the center of the room. Samantha looked up from a computer monitor as Victoria stepped inside.

The dizzying mosaic continued across the floor. Victoria stopped as she passed a shelf, seeing a round steel vault door set into the wall beside where Sam sat. "This is incredible."

"Welcome to the library," Allan said. "Glad you like it."

"What's that?" she asked motioning to the vault. Above it hung a white and blue banner depicting an eight-pointed star within a circle, its spear blade points barely protruded from the enclosing ring.

"That is the real treasure. Come on." Allan crossed to the room and began working the vault door's twin dials. He pulled the stainless handle and the door
thunked
and swung open, revealing not a room, but a recess. Medieval weapons hung from the inside wall and along the back of the door, brightly lit beneath hidden lighting.

Victoria stepped closer, eyes transfixed on the ancient arms. Some were ornate, decorated with swirling gold and gemstones, others, such as a black double-bladed axe prominently displayed in the middle, were strikingly simple by comparison. "Are these…holy weapons?"

He nodded, stepping aside. "These are the orphans. Weapons waiting for a new protector."

Her eyes moved to a short spear hanging on the inside of the door. She recognized it, remembering the security video of a woman passing through a solid wall.

"Come on," he said. "Come closer. Give `em a look."

Victoria stepped up to them, reading the polished brass labels affixed by each weapon. Several spots were vacant, and she spied Umatri's name above a pair of empty pegs. Ten weapons remained. "This isn't all of them, is it?"

"No. Some are on display at different museums. The rest of the orphans are split between the other headquarters."

She moved her hand toward a beautiful gold-hilted rapier, but paused and looked at Allan.

He nodded permission.

"Other headquarters?" she asked, touching the ivory grip, her fingers running along the smooth twists. The plaque read, 'Feuertod.'

"We have knights in India and South America, as well," Allan said "It's all right if you want to pick it up."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course." There was an excitement in his eyes. Restrained, but still evident.

Sam watched intently from her seat, her monitor seemingly forgotten.

Feeling a bit of a spectacle, Victoria carefully lifted the sword from its cradle, surprised how light it was.
Something so cherished should weigh more,
she thought. "Comfortable," she said, not entirely sure what qualities one desired in a sword. She lifted the blade before her, looking down its length at Allan.

"You like it?" he asked, his eager tone a like teenage boy sensing the possibility of snogging.

"I do."

"Can I see it?"

She offered the rapier over.

The eagerness vanished from his face and he accepted it. "It's a very impressive weapon." He returned it to its pegs, looking away as he did, but not before she saw the disappointment on his face.

What had she done wrong?

"Come on," he said, the sour expression washed away to cheerfulness. "Take a computer. I want you to show me something."

"What's that?"

He pulled a chair out for her. "I want to see how you find demons. We have six days to prove to Gerhard that they exist. So I want to see your magic."

She took the seat. Like most of the chairs in the mansion, it didn't have a left arm, which left her feeling a bit precarious like she'd somehow fall out of it without the rail.

Allan's cologne, spicy with vanilla, wafted as leaned over Victoria shoulder, thankfully on the left side, and entered a password.

Victoria clicked the browser and began to type. "A lot of the information is a bit haphazardly out there, but have you heard of Cryptozoo?"

"I know it." The wheels of Sam's chair clicked across the tiny tiles as she rolled closer.

The page opened, a plain white forum with a scrolling border of famous monster photographs. De Loy's Ape, Nessie, and two dozen others slowly glided along the outer edges. Across the top, emblazoned in dingy parchment-colored letters read, 'Cryptozoo.'

"Well it's by far the best resource I found." Victoria clicked the sign in and entered her information.

"You're VicMar?" Sam laughed. "I thought you were a man. I hate you."

"What?"

"On the forums," Sam said. "I'm FTrigg."

Victoria blinked. "You?" She chuckled. "You're an asshole."

She smiled. "I know."

"You know each other?" Allan asked.

"We've had some disagreements," Victoria said, logging in. A bright red box glowed in the upper corner, telling her she had three unread messages. Heavy pinpricks of worry rolled along the back of her neck, and Allan's presence suddenly felt like a weight over her shoulder. Probably TommyD checking in on her. What if they asked her to look at them?

"Disagreements?" Sam said. "Epic fights. Nearly got banned because of you."

Victoria cocked a brow. "You deserved it. You and that…Cheshire_Grin."

"That's me, too."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I've got four names that I rotate through."

"Just trolling?"

Sam shrugged. "Disinformation. Try to glean any possible tips from there, but steer people away. I point them toward the ones we know aren't real and eyes off the dangerous ones."

"You're not that Emmi asshole, are you?" A nasty argument with them had nearly caused Victoria to leave the forum early on.

"No, that's just some other asshole. Total troll." Sam chuckled. "That's so funny it was you. You gave me some real hell about that mistcat vid."

"That's what you call them?"

"Mmhmm." She nodded to Allan. "He named `em that. Real nasty bastards."

She looked up at Allan. "So it was real?"

"Quite," he said. "That was the Naples video?"

"Yes."

Allan's lips tightened. "Luc and I got it about two weeks after it hit the web. Nasty business."

Sam snorted. "Sick fuckers are what they are."

Allan turned to grab a chair. Seizing the moment, Victoria clicked her inbox, opening the screen, then clicking off it the moment it opened.

"Cryptozoo is a good site," he said, taking the seat. "But I don't recall them having anything on the Tengu. How did you find out about that?"

"The backroom." There was a moment's pang, like she's crossed some irrevocable line. "That's where they had it."

Allan brow creased. He shared a look with Sam. "What backroom?"

"Members only." She clicked the tab along the top, opening a new page "This is where the
real
discussions happen. It's where we organize our…" She was about to say recon trips, but caught it. "Skills."

Sam leaned in closer. "I've never heard of this."

"You have to be invited in. We don't talk about it with the zoo. That's just where we…chat with tourists."