Necrophobia (42 page)

“I received an anonymous letter a few days before you arrived. Requesting my assistance investigating disturbances to the north. It was signed with a code name we once used together and buried within the letter were phrases and references to some of our previous operations. References only Eleanor could know.” Isobel pursed her lips and scowled at some point in the distance. “Or someone who has done very thorough research. Normally I’d dismiss any letter signed by an ‘old friend’ as hogwash. Inquisitors do not have friends. But it seemed genuine…”

Claire stared at the desk for a while as her mind raced.

“You mustn’t let the past consume you Claire. It never ends well.”

“I understand that. I do.” She couldn’t find the words to express how she felt. How best to explain it wasn’t just an emotional need or childlike desire. She’d grown up and accepted it. There’d been no other way but now people kept dangling hope in front of her. Rekindling old worries and desires. Instead she shook her head and stared at Isobel. “Do you believe she’s alive? Haures claims she’s… become a vampire.”

“I don’t know Claire. I don’t.” Isobel shrugged her shoulders and winced as her injured arm ached. “It’s not impossible. It would explain why she’s been in hiding for two decades.”

“It does?”

“Don’t be obtuse girl. Vampires aren’t exactly loved around here. It’d take time to overcome the hunger. The compulsion to become something less than human. Even if she is alive she might be nothing more than a feral vampire. Or worse.”

Claire nodded. It was an unpleasant fact to face but the truth often was. “Possible. If she sent that letter that might prove she’s still sapient.” Claire hesitated to mention Veronica. On the one hand she was almost certain Isobel must know about Veronica’s vampirism — she was too observant and read minds whenever possible. On the other hand if Isobel didn’t know, Claire didn’t want to endanger someone who had saved her life more than once. Claire gripped the pendant around her neck tight feeling its icy touch and hoped it was still shielding her mind. “I’ll find out. I have to know.”

Isobel sighed and shook her head. “That’s up to you.” She stared towards Claire without focus. The old woman seemed even more exhausted than usual.

“Aren’t you going to look for her? She was your friend.”

Isobel bit her lip and shrugged. “I might. But I’m tired Claire. I’m tired of all of this.”

“What do you mean?” Claire asked hesitantly. Isobel’s tone of voice did little to reassure her.

“Age and injury have robbed me of all I hold dear. I spend more time outside my own body than in it these days. It’s a prison. A shell.” Her watery eyes met Claire's; her expression lacked the determination and drive it always had. “I’m little more than a ghost these days.”

Claire didn’t know what to say. It was difficult to figure out how old Isobel was but she reasoned at least sixty years. She never looked rested, always at the edge of exhaustion. Always running on empty. She saw the same in Razakel and his battle with age. Isobel’s prosthetic and injuries made it harder for her than she would ever admit. Claire wondered how freeing it must feel to project yourself out of your body. How liberating it must be. To go and see whatever you wanted. The limitations and resentment at returning to your mortal body, broken by age. The pain, the exhaustion. How easy it must be to want to let go and remain free of your body forever. The thought chilled her more than the pendant around her neck ever had. “You can’t give up.” She blurted out. It was pathetic and meagre but it was all she could think to say.

“Why not?”

“We need you.” Claire shrugged in desperation. Her words were failing her once again. “I need you. You might be a cantankerous grump but I like that.” Isobel smiled briefly for the first time in days. “I know you feel lost and unimportant. Like your glory days are behind you but you’re still valuable. You still have worth. People care. I care. Hayley cares.”

Isobel stared at Claire for a while before chuckling to herself. “You’ve been reading those self-help books that are going around.”

“No. I mean it.” Claire gripped the back of her neck and undid her pendant chain. “Read my mind if you must.”

Isobel waved her away. “I believe you.”

“Good.” She refastened the pendant and stood up almost knocking the chair over behind her as she headed towards the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To get answers.” Claire looked back over her shoulder at the still seated Isobel. “I know where to look.”

Haures and the surviving cultists fled south from Kriegsfeld with the Inquisition hot on their heels. Inquisitor Mia Pietas and her retinue cornered them within the town of Halmos. A bloody battle ensued resulting in the loss of three support specialists and their latest initiate. Alba Salus circled around Haures keeping out of his line of sight; this served a twofold purpose — psychic powers are more effective when the user has eye contact and two, she hated being the centre of attention. Razakel kept him secured with magic wards and inscriptions whilst Inquisitor Pietas and Aether Caeneus finished their sweep of the rundown building. Alba watched the rogue Inquisitor intently and clutched the ice-cold anti-psychic ward she’d been issued. Haures’ powers were nullified for now and he was far outclassed in magic by both Razakel and herself. The traitor stood motionless and complied with their demands. Alone and with his power restricted they’d knocked a lot of wind out of his sails. They’d found him more through luck than anything, Alba recognised a faint and unique magical signature surrounding him as he escaped Kriegsfeld. It was an unusual and complicated energy signature she’d never encountered before but up close and personal she realised where it came from. Though the young hunter Claire hadn’t known it her sword was infused with the arcane and infuriatingly complex magics of the Caelite order. When she’d stabbed Haures the blade electrocuted him and marked him with a unique magical signature that was designed to leave a trail they could follow. When Alba detected the signature spiking from within a run-down district of Halmos beside the cemetery, that had been all the proof they’d needed.

Content that his seals and wards were secure Razakel turned to face the traitor. Haures appraised him with an expression of disappointment.

“This is a mistake.”

“Is it really?” Razakel narrowed his eyes further. “You’re innocent are you?”

Haures shook his head. “There’s no such thing as innocence in our line of work.”

“We’re nothing alike, you and I.”

“You don’t believe that. I don’t need my abilities to see that.” A faint grin crossed Haures’ face. “In time you’ll need my help.”

“Somehow I doubt that.” Alba said keeping herself out of sight.

Haures shrugged. “You’re not getting any younger Alvis.”

Razakel nodded his head in agreement and raised a finger in front of Haures’ forehead. “You won’t be getting any older if you’re not careful.”

The traitor held up his hands in surrender. “I’m the tip of the iceberg. You’ll need my help if you want to stop them. I’ve no love nor loyalty to them.”

“Why should we believe you?” Alba asked.

“I failed to deliver Valdgeirr. My time here is limited. I can feel it.”

“On that point we both agree.” Mia stormed into the room with her long coat trailing behind her and flanked by Aether. “Is he ready for transport?” Her gaze flickered between Razakel and Alba.

Alba nodded and turned to Razakel.

“Ready whenever you are, Inquisitor.” He smiled and stepped to one side.

“Excellent.” Mia drew her sword and stalked towards the magically bound traitor. “Perhaps you should do your stone trick, for extra security.”

Green light flickered around Haures and the temperature dropped to an ice-cold chill within an instant. Haures kept his hands up in surrender as the energy swirled around him.

“Enough!” Mia rested her sword under his chin and pointed towards his exposed throat. Alba and Razakel exchanged a nod and tried to dispel the energy stirring throughout the room. The effect was like nothing she’d ever seen and any attempts to interfere were either ignored or the energy found a way around.

“It’s not me.” Haures replied as the sword tip pushed deeper drawing blood.

“Don’t lie to me!”

Green flames seeped out of his neck wound and motes of spectral energy flickered around him. “I’m being called!” With a desperate glance Haures looked at Alba and Razakel. “Interrupt the spell!”

“What do you mean?” Alba asked through gritted teeth. Spectral flames spread across his body and his outline flickered and wavered, whatever magic was taking hold of him was far beyond her ability to stop. She could see Razakel opposite her having similar difficulty.

Embers of energy leeched upwards from the bound Inquisitor negating the magic wards and inscriptions. Bit by bit, piece by piece the necromancer dissolved into green flames caught on the swirling gale-force winds. The motes tried to remain together but the force of the spell was too much, against his will the magic disassembled Haures and teleported him out of the room.

“I thought you warded this room!” Mia shouted shielding herself from the ravaging winds. Though capable of casting magic she was nowhere near the same calibre of sorcerer as they were. Instead Mia focused on negating magic and counter-spells, none of which were having any effect.

“I did! This is no ordinary teleportation!” Razakel held out his hands and tried to contain the escaping embers in a blue shield. The energy passed through his barrier without any issue and dissipated amongst the winds. “He’s being drawn somewhere.”

“Where?”

“Hard to say.” The winds died down as the last of the traitor Inquisitor evaporated. “It’s difficult to get a lock on the source.”

“There’s too much interference.” Alba added, feeling compelled to defend her mentor. They’d both checked and double checked every single ward and inscription. There was no way he could have escaped using magic without them being able to stop him. Alba chided herself, there was no way that
they
knew of. Evidently there was a method, a principle they were unaware of.

“I believe you. You two know what you’re doing.” Aether stepped forward keeping his arms folded. A talented swordsman and knight Aether was the least magically inclined of their retinue and Razakel’s oldest friend. He was also the most senior Inquisitor in the room. “Calm down Mia. We’ll get him again.”

“Every time we catch him he slips through our fingers.” She cursed and sheathed her blade and took a deep breath to compose herself.

“This time was different.” Razakel stroked his chin as he often did when deep in thought. “This wasn’t his doing.”

“You believe him?” Mia raised an eyebrow.

“That magic was far beyond him. Trust me.” He tapped the end of his nose with a finger and smiled. “His master has drawn him back, no doubt curious where the undead dragon and Morveil are. I don’t envy Haures right now.”

“So how do we find them now?”

“Give us time. We’ll find a way.” Razakel smiled at Alba. They’d found another mystery and a unique magic phenomena and they were in their element.

CHAPTER EIGHT

In Caelholm Reiner sat in the fortress-stronghold waiting in the hospital ward. Monks and priests fussed over the unconscious Commander. Every Caelite in the order had been in an out to check on her over the past few days. Her sister Anya almost never left the ward. Today it was Reiner’s turn to keep a vigil. There was nothing wrong with Amelia’s body physically. She bore no injuries. No signs of trauma. She was intact and perfect. Even trapped halfway between life and death she kept her quiet dignity and poise. Whatever effect channelling the raw power of Caelus had upon her it wasn’t visible. Becoming a conduit of such power was a blessing but a dangerous one. So far she seemed to have survived but she’d not regained consciousness since Valdgeirr’s defeat. Reiner hoped, prayed she would reawaken. He could only imagine what she’d experienced being so close to divinity. To become a demi-god even for a brief moment would change a person forever. He stared at her in contemplation whilst the sister on duty dealt with a recent admittance. One of the novice Caelites injured themselves during training and another bore the distinctive marks and burns all Caelites became familiar with. It took a while for most novices to realise lightning magic was not a game. The commander twitched and jerked awake sitting up. She shielded her eyes from the daylight as they adjusted. Reiner was relieved to see her beautiful green eyes looking at him rather than the blinding empty intensity of the Avatar. She cupped her forehead and massaged it gently.