Imperium (Caulborn) (2 page)

“Vincent,” Thad said. “Thank Prada you’re back. Can you swing by the store? Miguel was supposed to pick up a package two hours ago, he hasn’t shown up yet, and I need to leave here in about forty minutes to meet James.”

“On my way.” That didn’t sound like Miguel. He was never late for anything. I wondered if his latest assignment had anything to do with it. Miguel had been looking into several paranormals who’d recently gone missing. Maybe he’d finally gotten a break in the case.

I left the alleyway and moved with the throng of people on the sidewalk. I checked my watch; it was just after noon. Twenty minutes and another dimension ago, I brought an entire fae realm and its people back from the brink of destruction. Now I wanted a shower and a nap. I’d have to settle for a Pepsi from Thad’s back room once I got to his antique shop.

Antiquated Treasures is in a building that blends right in with the others around it. Once inside, though, it’s obvious the place is something unique. Thad carries antiques from all periods of history, from Victorian era furniture to Ming Dynasty vases. One piece of Thad’s collection was worth more money than I saw in a year. A faint chime rang as I pushed the metal door open, just audible over the gentle violin music that was playing through the store. The scents of jasmine and honeysuckle drifted over me. They were relaxing smells, the kind that said, “It’s nice in here, you’d like to stay a while and spend some money.”

Thad was placing a ‘sold’ sign on a display of antique Tudor chairs as I walked in. He turned and pranced over to a middle-aged woman who was standing at the counter. Thad’s close to six feet tall, beanpole-thin, and keeps his dark hair short. Decked out in a bright orange shirt and khakis, he stood out in any crowd. He looked up and waved at me. I joined him and the woman at the counter.

“Now, Mrs. Rosenbaum,” Thad said, “the chairs will be delivered tomorrow at 10 a.m. sharp. I think they’ll be positively splendid in your parlor.” He gave a limp-wristed gesture of approval and the woman smiled.

“Thank you so much, Thaddeus.” She turned to me. “And might this be the infamous James I keep hearing so much about?”

Thad shook his head. “Oh, no, Mrs. Rosenbaum. I simply couldn’t be with anyone so much shorter than I am. Also, I prefer blondes. Still, Vincent’s eyes are the most lovely shade of brown, aren’t they?”

“I’m just the stock clerk, ma’am,” I said. She gave me a dismissive smile and turned her attention back to Thad. He rang her up and walked her to the door. “Now, you let me know if there are any other pieces you need for that showplace of a home, Mrs. Rosenbaum.”

“I will, Thaddeus, I most certainly will.” She left the shop and Thad put a “Closed” sign in the window. He walked back to me and gave me a bear hug. “I’ve been worried sick, sweetie,” he said. He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, despite the fact that we were alone in the store. “How’d everything go? Are they going to be okay?”

“Everything’s fine, Thad.” I smiled at him. “You’re still lisping.”

Thad waved a hand and sighed. “I know, I know. James has been saying that I’m ‘overplaying the gay’ lately,” he made quote signs with his hands, “but the lady customers just eat it up.” He looked at me seriously. “You look tired, Vincent. Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Remember Mrs. Bonnekil’s physics exams back in eleventh grade? This was like that, only with hobgoblins.”

“I’m pretty sure Bonnekil was a hobgoblin,” Thad said with a wave. “But I suppose if you’re making cracks about high school, you’re probably okay.” He inclined his head to the rear of the store. “Miguel’s package is in the back room.” I gestured for Thad to lead the way and we went through a wooden door marked Employees Only.

The back room of Antiquated Treasures reminded me of the closing scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark. Crates and boxes were stacked everywhere, and Thad’s the only person who could find anything back there. Heck, I work here part time, and I have a hard time finding stuff. In addition to selling antiques, Thad supplies the Caulborn with artifacts and other magical devices. I started humming the Indiana Jones theme song as he led me through the stacks. “Oh, stop that,” Thad said without looking at me. “My organizational system is the pinnacle of logic and order. It’s not my fault you can’t grasp it.”

“Yeah, you’re right, Thad. Chaos theory always was beyond me.” He turned without breaking stride and jabbed me in the shoulder. The stacks of crates gave way to a small clearing with a desk, a dorm fridge and a microwave. Piles of papers were neatly arranged on the desk, and today’s mail was tidily bundled with a rubber band. As Thad went over to one of the stacks, I took a soda from the fridge. Thad pulled out a small cardboard box, about a foot and a half long, from one of the piles and handed it to me. “Here you are,” he said. “Tell Miguel that it was the best diviner I could find, and I left instructions on how to use it in the package.”

“Do you think it will help him find those missing paranormals?”

Thad tipped his head to one side. “For the amount of trouble it took me to find that, I certainly hope so. Tell Miguel to stop by if he has any questions. Or,” Thad smiled, “if he just wants to chat.”

I gave a short laugh and took another swig of soda. Thad picked up the stack of mail and snapped the elastic around his wrist. He stopped on the Victoria’s Secret catalog. Thad lived in an apartment above the shop, so all his personal mail came here. He held up the catalog so I could see it. “Is this the one Petra’s in?”

“Might be,” I said, moving next to him. Thad paged through the catalog, then stopped on a two-page spread of a marble-skinned woman draped across a set of red satin sheets. She wore a black lace teddy with matching garters and stockings, and her dark brown hair spilled out all around her.

“Oh, I love what the photographer did here,” Thad said. “Look at her eyes, she looks so smoky and sultry.” Thad flipped through a few more of the pages and stopped on another shot of Petra. “Look here. She looks so statuesque.”

You have no idea how right you are on that one, Thad. I wonder what you’d think if you knew Petra came out of a box from the back of your shop.

“Where is Petra, anyway?”

“She’s been on an extended shoot,” I said. “Punta Cana? Costa Rica? I can’t keep all the little islands she goes to straight. She’ll be home in a few days, though.”

Thad nodded. “Oh, what’s this?” He leaned over and tapped a blinking button on the answering machine. “Mr. Piper, this is Robert Maxwell,” a man’s voice said. “Thank you for contacting me. I am extremely interested in the pieces you mentioned. Please call me back so we can arrange a time to view them.” Thad smiled.

“Now this was a lucky break,” he said, gesturing to the phone. “For the last month or so all this man has wanted is antique reading glasses and telescopes. It’s hard to find that stuff. Then, last week I caught wind of an estate sale. The deceased had a whole cache of antique reading glasses, and I paid a pretty penny to scoop them up.” He pointed to a small case on the edge of the desk. “I have eight pairs of Benjamin Martin eyeglasses here. Mr. Maxwell should be very excited.”

We spent the next ten minutes discussing the best way to organize the back room for this week’s incoming and outgoing deliveries. I’d be back later in the week to arrange everything. When we were done, I finished my soda, gave Thad a hug and left the shop. I pulled up my jacket’s collar as I stepped onto the street. Mid-October in New England gets chilly, and it was a subtle reminder that winter was just around the corner.

After a brisk walk, I arrived at Caulborn headquarters, a brick structure done in the style of an old mill building. The door was solid steel, and there were no windows on the lower two floors. I pushed through the front door and florescent lights flickered on as it closed behind me. The foyer I was standing in was barely a ten foot square. I walked to a door directly in front of me and pressed my hand onto the scanner next to the door. The door clicked open and I entered the office building proper.

And that’s when the zombie attacked me.

Chapter 3

Begin Coded Transmission
There are numerous superstitions regarding children born with cauls. From a medical perspective, the child is born with the amniotic sac wrapped around the head, like a veil. Cultures around the world believe these children are destined for great things or possess magical powers. Legends say they can tell the future, are extremely lucky, cannot die by drowning and a host of other useful abilities. Others, such as Vincent Corinthos, gain a powerful link to a certain species of fae.
Due to agent fatalities, we know that most of these legends are false. One confirmed ability is a caul’s power to prevent mental compulsion and domination. On the whole though, cauls are unpredictable, and further analysis on an agent by agent basis will be needed to determine the full scope of each Caulborn’s innate abilities.
-NS
End Coded Transmission

The zombie reeked of sewage and it struck out at me with a hand that was missing a couple of fingers. Its blue-tinged skin was covered in filth, and its few remaining clumps of dark hair were plastered to its scalp. As it lashed out, something slammed into me, knocking me aside before the zombie’s attack connected. I rolled with the impact and managed to not drop Miguel’s package.

I regained my balance and tapped the Urisks’ faith. One of the perks to being a god is you gain the ability to do anything your followers can. And since the Urisk have innate psychic powers, I do, too. I sent a telekinetic push out, slamming the zombie in the chest. It stumbled backward, and I noticed the thick silver band around its neck, which was attached to a metal pole. Jake, the Caulborn’s lead security guard, held the pole steady. His thick arms barely strained as he kept the creature stationary. He angled the pole and pushed downward, pinning the zombie to the ground.

“Easy, Vincent, it’s restrained,” said a woman’s voice. Kristin Tanis stepped into view and made some notes on a pad. She was dressed in her usual orange and yellow hazmat suit; standard attire for someone who spent most of her time with the Underdwellers who lived in the sewers and abandoned subway lines. “Sorry about that, I should’ve had Jake keep it farther away from the door,” she said as she rubbed her eyes. Her black hair was starting to show threads of white, and I noticed the crow’s feet by her gray eyes were more pronounced. Kristin had been a Caulborn since I was in diapers, and she’d forgotten more about the occult than I’ll ever know. “No worries, Kristin. Hello, Jake,” I said, releasing the Urisks’ faith. “And thanks for bumping me out of the way, Mist, wherever you are.” Mist is Kristin’s Fylgiar, a guardian spirit who evidently takes the form of a dog. I say evidently because Mist is invisible to everyone, including Kristin. Luckily, Kristin has a sense of where she is, and they can communicate telepathically. Kristin nodded to a space just to her left.

“Mist says, ‘You’re welcome.’”

I gestured to the zombie. “Who’s the new friend?”

“Well, I’m going to need Doc Ryan to help me do some reconstructive imaging to be sure, but I think this might be Seamus McElery.”

I blinked at the zombie. “Isn’t he one of the missing fae Miguel has been looking for?”

Kristin nodded. “Yeah. I picked him up in the sewers about five miles from here.” Jake twisted the metal pole, forcing the zombie onto its back. Kristin deftly scraped off a piece of its skin and placed it into a small plastic tube, which she quickly capped. “Jake, kindly take our guest to holding room one.” Jake nodded and hauled the zombie back to its feet. Then he pushed it down a side corridor, where the elevator down to the holding cells was. In the six years I’d worked here, I think I’d only heard Jake speak about fifteen words.

“What could zombify a fae?” I asked.

Kristin turned to me and shook her head. “No idea. But I think Mikey owes me a beer for this one.” She sighed and patted at a spot to her left. A disembodied, satisfied sound that wasn’t quite a growl and wasn’t quite a purr filled the air. “It’s always something, Vincent. Demons, ghosts, fae, and now zombies. I’d hoped I’d seen the last of them after that incident in Oklahoma.” She shook her head. “I need to run an analysis on the zombie’s tissues and begin the reconstruction process. Catch you later.”

We parted company and I walked past Jake’s security station and took the elevator up to the third floor. The electronic display dinged as I ascended. Floor 1 – Medical. Floor 2 – Workshops. Floor 3 – Offices. I stepped out as the doors swished open. The foyer I was standing in was cheerily lit with light pouring in from outside. Potted plants flanked the door beyond, and between me and that door was a heavy mahogany desk. Leslie, the implacable secretary, sat behind the desk. She was a plump woman in her late fifties with curly gray hair, piercing hazel eyes and a perpetual frown. Stacks of papers were neatly arranged around her, and she was expertly filing those papers into folders.

“Afternoon, Leslie.” I smiled.

“Afternoon yourself, Mr. Corinthos,” she said, eyeing me over the tops of her half-moon glasses. She tsked as she looked at the silver watch on her wrist. “You’re late. Galahad was expecting you ten minutes ago.”

I shrugged. “You know how it is around here, Les. Trains run late, the sidewalks are clogged with tourists, and getting past the zombies in the lobby all make for one heck of a commute.”

Her eyes betrayed the faintest flicker of a smile. “He’s showing our newest agent her office. The one right across from yours.” I thanked her and pushed through the door. As I walked down the hall, Galahad and a young woman carrying a binder stepped out of the office opposite mine.

Galahad turned to look at me, and as I opened my mouth to greet him my Glimpse kicked on. A gift from my father, a Glimpse lets me see a random bit of a person or an object’s past. This Glimpse showed me a much younger Galahad XI. His hair was thicker and salt and pepper instead of gray, and there weren’t as many lines on his face. He was wearing a priest’s collar and his face was crimson with anger. “How could you let them do this?” he shouted. “You knew! You knew and you did nothing! They did those things to children! To children!” There’s someone else in the room with Galahad, but my Glimpse isn’t strong enough to make him out. I only see a red and white blur, and when the figure speaks, it’s a droning buzz.