Damoren (19 page)

“Excuse me?” Ben asked.

She licked her lips.
“We could leave it here. Fit it with a miniature tracker, then wait for them to return.”

“
And let them take it?” Allan asked, his voice rising. “They’ll destroy it.”

“
Maybe not immediately. There were three weeks between Hungary and when the weapons were destroyed in Plevin. Same with Mexico.”

“
And they were destroyed the same night in Spain,” Malcolm said. “We can’t take that chance.”

“
But that was a full moon. They had five weapons then, not one. At none of the sites was just one weapon destroyed. And police reports confirm the other murders occurred during a time window in which there was a full moon. The next one is three weeks away. It’s also a lunar eclipse.”

“
She’s right,” Allan said thoughtfully. “We had hypothesized that the other ceremonies were during full moons, and, sadly, the last incident confirmed that.”

“
If the demons took it we could find where they go,” Anya said. “Find them, and kill them.”

Allan nodded.

“
No,” Ben said, standing tall. “I am sworn to protect God’s weapons. I cannot give it to God’s enemy.”

“
I agree,” Matt said. “If we did bait them, I’d rather it be with a copy.”

“
They’d know if it was a copy,” Anya said. “Those only fool humans. Our records show that. The demons know this weapon is here. They will come back for it.”

“
Then why bother making a copy?”

“
The owner,” Ben said. “If we simply stole it, then that would reflect badly on the museum, which would come back on Master Turgen.”

Malcolm regarded the hunters.
“I could never give it to them. But...Anya has a good idea with the tracker.”

Ben
’s eyes narrowed.

Malcolm shook his head.
“I’d rather die than let them have it. But whether Master Turgen offers the owner money, or we make a forgery in its place, that will take time. Weeks for a forgery. The fiends could return tonight, and I want to be here when they do. We can’t let them get this weapon, but a tracker is a good contingency in case we fail.”

“
So we’re using it as bait?” Matt said.

“
Only until we can get it safely home,” Malcolm said defensively. “We know they’ll be back. We won’t have to go find them. Don’t have to guess their moves. And if we can get one of their worshipers, we can make them tell us where the rest of them are.”

#

Thunder boomed, rattling cases and trembling the walls. Matt felt it, even inside the small windowless security room nestled in the museum’s third floor. Matt watched as Luc passed through one of the eight screens before him, two rows of four. The huge, black hunter patrolled through the second floor; his light blue security uniform seemed natural for him, except for the ancient iron mace at his hip, ruining the disguise. A plastic bottle of pink fluid rested on the table beneath the screens. Beside it, Matt’s half-drunk paper cup of coffee, its temperature only slightly higher than the chilly room’s.

“
One-fifteen, check in,” Malcolm’s voice blurted in Matt’s ear bud. “Ben?”

“
Here.”

“
Luc?”

“
Here,” Luc growled through his radio.

“
Anya?”

“
Nothing on the second floor.”

“
Kazuo?”

“
I am here.”

“
Matt, you asleep up there?” Malcolm asked.

Matt thumbed the microphone at his shoulder.
“Here. Nothing on camera.” He released the transmit button and added, “Asshole.” The cameras already fed into Malcolm, Jean, and Anya’s computers, making Matt’s job to sit and watch them just a pointless excuse to keep him out of the way.

“
All right,” Malcolm said. “Check in again at one-thirty.”

It was the third night since the attempted robbery, and so far nothing had happened.
Turgen had liked Malcolm and Anya’s idea and had persuaded Louis to allow Turgen’s ‘security team’ to manage the museum for two weeks, the same amount of time they estimated it would take to construct a perfect counterfeit for the holy toki poutangata. Matt didn’t know how Turgen managed the agreement, but after witnessing a few whispered conversations with Ben, the Valducans’ accountant, he suspected it was a hefty donation, either money or artifacts.

Per Anya
’s suggestion, they affixed a tiny transmitter, about the size of a thick sequin, to the weapon. The tracker didn’t have much battery life, maybe eight hours of GPS pulses, one every five minutes. It clung to the underside of the toki poutangata, resting flat atop a charging plate that kept its battery full. Anya had also fiddled with the museum’s alarm system. Now, when activated, it wouldn’t notify the local authorities. In the event the vampire did return, no one wanted the police to arrive and find hacked bodies of it or any of its familiars, let alone any cult member prisoners they hoped to take.

For the plan to work, they had brought a second squad to the city, this one led by Jean, Schmidt
’s protégé and the most senior hunter. With him came Luc, Susumu , Kazuo, and Luiza. Turgen had returned to the chateau, which was nearly empty, having ten of its eleven hunters gone. Allan had said that combining all the Valducans spread world-wide, mostly in India and South America, the museum team represented almost half of them.

They worked in shifts.
Malcolm’s team of Luc, Anya, Ben, Kazuo, and Matt, protected it from eight at night until eight in the morning. When not at the museum, they stayed at a dinky hotel a block and a half away. With his background in antiques, Matt had been delegated with counterfeiting the weapon. Not that being able to spot a forgery gave him much expertise in actually creating them, he still had more knowledge than the others. Kazuo was at least helpful. The small hunter was experienced at wood carving, a skill Matt knew almost nothing about.

The schedule however gave Matt zero time with Luiza.
Being on separate teams, and his time away from the museum dedicated to sleep and forging a centuries-old adze, reduced seeing her to only during shift-changes, or texting on the pre-paid Jean had issued, since Matt’s phone didn’t work in Europe. He couldn’t help but feel a little foolish with how much he looked forward to those meetings, short and impersonal as they were. It was just that he’d never had a girlfriend before. Not that Luiza was his girlfriend. He just...liked her. It wasn’t sex. A life of growing up and living on the road, constantly moving from town to town, had led to many one-night stands and brief affairs with women who rarely knew his real name, but never a relationship. Luiza made him feel different, somehow relaxed, yet vulnerable and he—

Movement flickered across one of the screens.

Matt leaned closer, staring at an empty hallway, tall cases of fine porcelain lining the walls. He swore he saw something. Curious, Matt leaned the little rubberized joystick to the left. Two floors below camera four turned. There was no one there. Round reflections of light glistened off the floor. He pushed the stick forward, zooming. Wet spots. Footprints?

He glanced up at a map of the building.
Red LEDs shone from every window and door, indicating they were shut, locked, and alarmed. Matt looked back at the screen.
Why is the floor wet?

Sighing, he checked the screens again.
Kazuo stood before camera two, staring up at a broken Roman statue. Ben strolled past screen five in the west galleries. A shadow moved past camera six. That was the side entrance. Malcolm had already passed by seven minutes before. He shouldn’t be back yet.

Matt moved the camera
’s joystick, turning it toward the door. His eyes widened. The door was open, wet tracks trailed across the polished marble. Matt turned back to the map. A red light indicated it was closed. But it wasn’t closed. It wasn’t locked. And for damn sure the alarm wasn’t armed. So why the hell did it say so?

Matt pressed the mic button.
“Mal?”

“
Yes?”

“
The side door is open. Did y—”

The pink water in the bottle suddenly swirled, the color condensing into a red bead in the lower corner.
Shit.

“
It’s here!” Matt said, his thumb still on the button. “Repeat, demon is here. First floor, side entrance.”

“
Kazuo,” Malcolm, ordered. “Meet me in the dome gallery. Matt, you stay there.”

Matt
’s pulse raced. A red light started flashed on the wall. Malcolm must have hit the alarm. Automatically, it called Jean’s team at the hotel. Without moving his eyes from the screen, Matt opened a nylon backpack and drew out the heavy Ingram. The massive glass security doors began sliding closed. Two men in black hurried past camera four. That was the other side of the museum.

“
Multiple contacts!” Matt snapped over the radio. He eyed the bottle. The red sphere had split into three separate beads at different points, two quickly glided in the direction of the domed gallery.

A werewolf bounded past
camera one, charging toward Ben. The Indian hunter turned, his scimitar in his hand as the beast leapt.

Everything went dark.
Blackness. The hum of computers wound down, the rumbling air vents silenced, and Matt sat alone, blind in a windowless room.

Matt stood, one hand on the
machinegun. He started toward the door, his other hand stretched out before him. His foot kicked a small trashcan, nearly tripping him as it fell. His fingers found the cold wooden door. He felt for the handle. There was a loud click, and one of the three florescent lights flicked back on. At least the emergency power still worked. Matt yanked open the door and charged into the museum.

Large cases and statues loomed in the dim light.
Long shadows crossed the floor, cast from the emergency lights still burning. Shouts echoed from somewhere ahead.

Matt raced
through several tiny rooms then emerged out into the domed gallery. His fingers tight around the Ingram’s grip he stopped at the balcony rail. Two floors below Kazuo stood before the smaller northern door, katana held before him. Two figures lay on the floor, a woman and a man. Blue-green flames flicked above the male’s body, casting eerie dancing shadows.

Matt could see the cracked security door to the room with the Maori adze.
It hadn’t fully closed when the power shut off, leaving a seven or eight inch gap. Malcolm charged toward the open south entrance, his machete slick with dark blood. He hacked at an emaciated ghoul. The creature leapt back onto all fours and circled to the right. Matt switched the machinegun to his left hand and drew Dämoren. He cocked the hammer.

Malcolm swung again.
The ghoul sprung onto a narrow case filled with antique muskets. The case tipped and the creature leapt away before it fell with a terrible crash and shattered glass. Matt aimed Dämoren down, but the ghoul was quick, moving too fast in sporadic directions to lead it.

Someone yelled. Shadows raced toward the glass door Kazuo guarded.
Several men ran into view, holding clubs. Kazuo stood still as the men pushed forward, beating on the glass and shouting. One raised a red-handled axe and Kazuo swung his sword down at the floor, through the man’s extended shadow. The shadow split and the man screamed as blood sprayed out from the stumps of his uplifted arms. The axe flew into the glass with a thud and Kazuo swung again and again, slicing shadows as redness splattered across the bulletproof shield.

Two more men
came in through the south door, past the bronze rider statue. Malcolm turned to face them. The stringy-haired ghoul scuttled up one of the art deco dancers and leapt toward Kazuo’s back. Matt slung Dämoren out and fired. The boom echoed loud off the dome, and a blast of blue smoke erupted downward. Kazuo jumped aside as the demon fell and slid across the floor, trailing yellow flames. He looked up and gave Matt a ‘thank you’ smile.

No problem.

Footsteps clomped up from behind and Matt whirled to see a man in a wet, gray
T-shirt running toward him from a side doorway. Matt swung the Ingram up in his off hand and fired. The heavy machinegun bounced, stitching the man up the stomach, chest, and into the wall behind. The attacker staggered and fell.

Familiar. Where
’s the master?
In his hurry to leave the security room, Matt had forgotten the blood compass.

Matt holstered Dämoren, and held the Ingram in both hands as he approached the fallen man.
A growing pool of blood appeared black in the dim light. Movement came from the open doorway and a hulking shape crouched through. Slender long horns curled back from atop its crimson head. The strutter.

It opened it
s mouth, and its monstrous tongue slithered out. Matt fired a burst from the Ingram into its legs. Silver, amethyst-tipped slugs chewed through the beast’s thighs. It stumbled back a step before the holes closed.