Imperium (Caulborn) (21 page)

“Not now,” I hissed, rushing past him. “We’ll talk later.” The flower sticking out of Megan’s wrist gleamed like wet glass. I set her down in the backseat of the car and drove her back to the office. I didn’t bother with my key card at the door, I just Opened it. Jake looked up in surprise as I rushed in, Megan in my arms.

“Jake,” I called. “Medical emergency here, I need your help.” The big man pressed a button on his console. All the doors between the lobby and Medical opened. A siren pulsed several times, indicating an agent was down. Jake took Megan from me, and we ran down the corridor to Medical. Doc Ryan was waiting for us at the entrance to the Medical wing with a stretcher and, to my surprise, Mrs. Rita was with him.

Doc Ryan pointed at Jake. “Get her onto the stretcher.” As Jake did, Mrs. Rita began hooking up sensors and wires to Megan’s forehead, her upper arms, and her neck. “Corinthos,” Doc barked. “What happened?”

I relayed the account as quickly and concisely as I could. The Doc and Mrs. Rita pushed Megan’s stretcher and together we ran her into one of the operating rooms. The Doc looked at the translucent flower poking out of Megan’s wrist and grimaced. Then he checked her vitals, shone a light into her eyes, and made a few observations to Mrs. Rita. To me, it was an environment of controlled chaos. Mrs. Rita began drawing Megan’s blood. This held my attention—her blood had turned green. Mrs. Rita rushed the tube of blood over to a lab station and began running tests on it.

“Doc, what can I do to help?”

“Appreciate the sentiment, Vincent, but the best thing you can do now is stay out of our way,” he replied without looking at me. I stepped out into the hall and watched the process through a glass partition. I leaned my head against the glass and closed my eyes for a moment. When I opened them, the gorilla-like man in the dark suit was standing next to me.

“We need to talk, Vinnie,” he whispered. His breath smelled of brimstone. I turned to him and met his red stare.

“What’s on your mind, Orcus?”

Chapter 18

To: Robert Maxwell
The regenerative treatment has been extensively tested on homeless humans gathered from the streets. Given their tendency toward poor health and disease, they were the ideal test subjects. Initial test results proved promising, including the curing of several cases of herpes, the regeneration of lost teeth, and the reversal of liver cirrhosis. However, after several days of observation, it was determined that the treatment was actually toxic to the subject. Unexpected cellular mutation resulted in the creation of a new virus that quickly reduced the subject from the picture of near perfect health to a shambling corpse.
-Email message recovered from Kira Leevan’s computer

Orcus smirked at me. “You know what’s on my mind, kid. You made a promise. You gotta keep that promise. We gotta enter it in the book, and you need to make good on it.” The world faded around us, until Orcus and I stood alone in a pool of dim light. Orcus was the god of oaths, and he took his job very seriously. There’s no bargaining with Orcus, no flashy dramatic effects. If you made a promise, he made sure you kept it. There was another pool of light up ahead, where an ironbound book rested on an obsidian pedestal.

The world around us was completely silent; even our footfalls made no noise as we approached the pedestal. Orcus opened the book to a blank page, then he stepped back and gestured for me to move in front of it. I placed my hand on the page; it was warm and felt like silk. The page grew hot beneath my palm and it felt like the book was sucking something out of me. Red ink burned itself into the page. No, not ink. Blood. The promise I’d made to Megan, in my own hand, in my blood.

I, Vincent Corinthos, have promised Megan Hayes that she will be fine. I swear this upon penalty of loss of power, loss of followers and eternal damnation in Tartarus.

This was why gods never made promises. If you failed to follow through, you were screwed. It didn’t matter if you were promising that you’d save the world or that you’d be home in time for dinner. If you were a god and you used the P word, be ready for a visit from Orcus.

A hole tore open in the air in front of me. Through it, I could see the special place in Tartarus where the forgotten gods went; the ones who hadn’t kept their promises. They were tormented by demons and the souls of those they had failed, condemned to an eternity of suffering. I’d only been here once or twice before. You’d think I’d learn to keep my mouth shut.

“You understand the implications?” Orcus asked. This was just formality. He knew I did, I knew he knew I did, you get the idea. I nodded and removed my hand. There was a bruise on my palm from where the blood had been sucked out of me. I jolted as the book snapped shut of its own accord. Orcus’ mouth quirked up a bit, then in that same formal tone, he said, “The promise will remain in the book until it is fulfilled. You must do everything in your power to make sure Megan Hayes is fine.”

The world faded back in around us. Orcus was gone. I froze. I used my Glimpse to listen back on what exactly I’d said to Megan. “You’re going to be fine, I promise.” Shit. That could mean that I’d need to keep her safe for the rest of her life. I’d have to talk with Orcus about that later. Right now, it was a moot point if she didn’t survive the next ten minutes.

I watched the medical team for close to an hour before Galahad came out and put a hand on my shoulder. “It’s in God’s hands now, Vincent. Don’t tear yourself up. This is one of the most sophisticated medical facilities in the world. She’ll be all right.” He looked back at Megan and sighed. “I had Gearstripper take what was left of the flower and those specks you found for analysis. Why don’t you see if he’s had any luck with them?”

I knew he was just giving me something to do, but I was grateful all the same. Seeing Megan lying there with all those tubes poking out of her was twisting my insides. I walked in a haze until I came to Gearstripper’s workshop. On the far side of the room, Gearstripper was perched on a table, tapping away at a keyboard. “Hi Vinnie,” he called without turning. “Come on in.”

“You have eyes in the back of your head or something?” I asked as I carefully picked my way across to him.

“No, I have eyes in the front of my head, which let me look at the monitor that shows the picture from the closed circuit camera that points at the door. I’ve been running tests on that flower that stabbed Megan. It’s nasty, Vinnie. Really nasty.”

“What’ve you found?”

“Well, luckily for Megan, it looks like it was intended to kill vampires. Did you know that roses and thorns can be fatal to them?” I shook my head. “Me neither. Those kinds of things don’t make for really good special effects in the movies, I guess. From what I can tell, it was supposed to move through the body, and wrap thorny vines around an undead heart. But since Megan’s alive, the rose didn’t know what to do.”

“It did something, Gears. Her blood’s turned green.”

Gears made a face. “The good news is it doesn’t look like the flower will kill her. The bad news is, like you said, we don’t know exactly what it’s doing. A lot of botanical magic got pumped into her system, so we’ll have to keep a close eye on her for the next few hours.” He pointed to a series of monitors on his left. “I’m tapped into her treatment room, so we can keep tabs on her from here if you want.”

I forced myself to look away from the screen that showed Megan on the bed. Gears sensed my discomfort and shifted the topic. “I figured out what those black specks are, too. Poppy seeds,” he said triumphantly. Gears waited expectantly and after a moment his ears sagged in disappointment. “Poppy seeds,” he repeated dejectedly.

“Gears, I’ve had a rough day. So what are you saying, our kidnapper had a couple dozen bagels before abducting Lucille?”

Gears shook his head and sighed. “This is another vampiric weakness that didn’t make it into the movies. You need to read more, Vinnie. One of the old legends says that if a vampire came across a sack of poppy seeds, the vampire would be compelled to count and eat the seeds. So people would spill seeds in front of their front doors to keep vampires from getting in. The vampire wouldn’t be able to move until they had counted and eaten all the seeds, and that would take so long that the sun would come up and immolate them. So someone spilled seeds in front of Lucille and she counted and ate the seeds. The poppy affected her in the same way it would affect a normal person. It knocked her out.”

“That’s why she wasn’t fighting back,” I said. “She was drugged. But who would drug a vampire? If they were vampire hunters, why not just stake her and be done with it? Why go through the trouble of kidnapping her?”

“Got me there, Vinnie. I’m just the hired help.”

Well, this day wasn’t getting any better. I needed some air to clear my head. I went for a long walk as I turned what I knew over in my mind. Someone was kidnapping paranormals. I suspected Leevan, but I needed more proof. Megan’s life was in danger and I was accountable for it. My followers were being attacked by someone called Treggen. All the thoughts whirled around like a cyclone in my head. It got to be too much and eventually I wasn’t even thinking anymore; I was just walking around the city on autopilot.

“Vinnie?” a voice asked.

I was startled out of my trance and looked around. I was near the Seanake. How long had I been walking? “Hello?”

“Over here, Vinnie,” Tim Finnegan’s voice called. “In the alley.”

I stepped into the alley and walked in a few paces. Tim phased through the wall to my left, along with the spirit of a middle-aged Hispanic man.

“Miguel,” I said, feeling my stomach knot. “Dammit, what happened?”

“Mikey here was just crossin’ to the other side,” Tim explained. “We don’t have much time, Mikey, tell Vinnie what happened before you passed.”

Miguel’s spirit form wavered slightly. When a person died, their spirit was supposed to go on to their destination. Ghosts like Tim were actually pretty rare. So for Miguel to stick around like this, whatever he had to say must be very important.

“I was in my apartment when these two guys broke in. I tried to fight them off, but one of them pulled out a freeze cannon and blasted me. Next thing I know, I’m strapped down to a bed in a white room. There were all these tubes sticking into my head, and there was this lady on another bed next to me. She was giggling to herself. I think she was nuts. Then this big dude came in, and when he saw I was awake, he futzed with one of the tubes going into my head. That happened a couple of times. Next thing I know, I’m crossing over.”

I felt sick. “They were experimenting on you?”

Miguel nodded. “Best as I can tell, yeah. No idea what for, though. I wasn’t conscious long enough to learn that.”

Part of me wanted to see what I could do for Miguel, maybe ask if there was a message I could give to his family. But Tim was right, we wouldn’t have much time to speak. I needed to get as many answers as I could. I hated myself for that. “Can you describe the big guy?” I asked.

“He was about six feet tall, shaved head, really tan. Had a tattoo of a sun right here.” He tapped the side of his neck.

I grimaced. That was Robert Maxwell, a.k.a. Treggen, our favorite antique lover and Bright Side warlord. “Did he say anything to you?”

Miguel shook his head. “No, Vince. I asked the guy a ton of questions, but he just ignored me.”

“Okay, how about—”

“That is quite enough, son of Janus,” a voice whispered. The voice was soft, but the words were hard. We all jumped.

“Ah, bloody hell,” Tim muttered. “I thought we’d have more time. Look sharp, Mikey. That’d be the Grim Reaper.”

Chapter 19

To: Robert Maxwell
The resulting virus, currently classified as ZN233, is completely fatal to humans. It also corrupts and kills fae, although at a much slower rate. Certain supernaturals, such as vampires, seem unaffected for the incubation period, then abruptly expire. The synthetic life forms, such as the golems and cloned gremlins are immune. Once the regenerative treatment has been perfected, I will conduct further experiments on this virus by injecting it into the lycanthropes to determine their resistance to it. In the meantime, I have synthesized an antidote to the virus, derived from the gremlins’ blood. Note that the antidote must be administered within twelve hours of contracting the disease to be effective. See attachment for full information. A package containing several vials of the antidote has been shipped to the address you specified.
-Email message recovered from Kira Leevan’s computer

We turned to see Death striding down the alley toward us. He was cloaked in a wispy black robe, and his scythe was slung over his left shoulder. His stride was determined, but neither slow nor hurried. “You,” he pointed at Miguel, “are late. Go. Now.” Miguel’s spirit vanished. He turned to Tim. “And you, you should know better. We have unfinished business, Mr. Finnegan.”

“Oh dearest mother me, would you look at the time,” Tim said, checking his pocket watch. “I’m late to visit me poor sick aunt.” He vanished then, too.

Death turned his hood toward me. I couldn’t see beneath it, but I got the distinct impression that he was unhappy with me. You didn’t want to piss off any of the Horsemen, but Death was the one you really didn’t want to piss off. “Come with me,” he said. He turned and took a step forward. I followed and suddenly we were in a thick fog.

“Where are we?”

A table and chairs formed out of the fog and solidified in front of us. “This is the Veil, the realm between the living and the dead. It is my home.”

You need a better decorator, I thought. But there were just some things you didn’t say to the Grim Reaper. “And why did you bring me here?”

“To speak privately. Sit.” He gestured with a skeletal hand at one of the chairs. I sat. He took the chair across from me, and laid his scythe across the table. Then he lowered his hood. The skull that stared at me had glowing blue orbs where its eyes should have been. “Now then, you should know that delaying a spirit from crossing to its final rest can have serious ramifications.” I tried to focus on the words, but random questions kept popping into my mind. Like, how was he enunciating words like ‘ramifications’ when he didn’t have lips?