Promise: Caulborn #2 (11 page)

Gears frowned. “No, but that’s not stuff she would’ve had access to. I thought about those phasilion things that Treggen uses, but you told me it takes weeks for them to move, so it’s unlikely one got in and out without us knowing.” He gestured to the cardboard box with the wires coming out of it that he’d been working on when I came in. “I’ve got some new equipment here. It’s going to help me run some additional tests and try a few new theories out.”

“What’s under here?” I asked, lifting the corner of the box.

“Gah!” Gears shot forward and slapped my wrist. I dropped the box and yelped, both in surprise and pain. His glowing yellow eyes were huger than normal, and his chest puffed in and out faster than I’d ever seen before. “Sorry, Vinnie, but that’s some very sensitive equipment under there. It is literally one of a kind, and I can’t let anyone know what it is, let alone tinker with it.”

“Okay, Gears, no problem.” I looked at the tiny red welts on my wrist where Gears had hit me. That could’ve been a lot worse; Gearstripper’s claws can shred metal like those knives they show on late-night infomercials. “I came up here to see if you can run this through a translator,” I said as I handed him the page.

Gears screwed up his face as he looked it over. “Weird. I’ve got a few things going on now,” he gestured around him, “but I should be able to start this up a little later tonight.”

“Good enough, pal,” I said. I looked at the box again. “Gears, let’s say for a minute that Axle didn’t plant those cameras. That means that someone else did.”

Gears nodded. “Like you said, my simulations don’t account for certain things. I’ll adjust for those in the future, but it seems that Treggen got someone else inside.” He gestured to a second monitor, this one with dozens of mug-shot-style images. “This is every non-Caulborn who’s visited the office in the last twelve months: delivery people, repairmen, those caterers that Leslie brought in during Thanksgiving. They all check out.”

“Keep digging, Gears. We need to figure this out.”

He nodded. “By the way, Petra just texted me and said she wanted me to do some work on your oven. Is something wrong with it?”

“She probably wants you to give it a tune up. Aphrodite’s coming for lunch on Saturday.”

“Aphrodite’s coming?” Gears asked. I nodded and his expression became concerned. “I’ll make sure to bring more Twinkies for Petra.”

“As many as you can carry,” I said as I waved goodbye and headed back to my office.

I’d just sat down when my desk phone rang. “Ah, Vincent,” Mrs. Rita said. “I am glad you’re here. I have something in Medical you’ll want to see.” I jogged down to Medical and found Mrs. Rita standing over a steel table, dark wooden chopsticks poking out of her iron-gray bun. She beckoned me over and splayed out the fingers of her left hand. “See this?”

The light caught on spindly threads wrapped around her fingers. “Looks like you’ve got fishing line wrapped around your hand,” I said.

“I suppose it does,” she agreed. The she picked up a lighter from the table, flicked it open, and stuck her left hand directly into the flame.

“Jesus!” I cried as I bent the flames away from her flesh with pyrokinesis.

She just smiled at me. “Relax, Vincent. Release control of the fire.” I looked her square in the eyes. Her eyes crinkled as her smile broadened. “Petra is lucky to have one so chivalrous,” she said. “But trust me.”

After a moment, I released control and the fire played up along Mrs. Rita’s aged, outstretched fingers. It took me a second. “It’s not burning you,” I said stupidly. “How is that possible?”

“The fishing line, as you put it, is actually very fine silk, woven by the worms Joseph and I discovered.” Mrs. Rita is the only person I know who calls Doc Ryan by his first name. “They began weaving it a few hours ago and have already produced several meters of it.”

“Worms that make fireproof silk. That’s kind of cool, actually. The fire department would love these little guys.”

“I believe it is more than that, Vincent.” She held out her hand to me again. “Try to burn this.” I conjured a weak flame. It danced along the threads but did not ignite them. “These worms fed on the remains of Agnes MacLaughlin, a renowned pyromancer. And now they weave thread immune to fire both mundane and divine.”

I whistled. “So these things eat people’s bones then spin out thread that can withstand whatever that person could do in life?”

“I need to conduct a few more tests but that is my initial impression, yes. A garment woven of such a material would make for very effective armor. The technicians in Dublin were very excited to hear about these; they could use them to craft protective gear for our agents across the world.”

“So they’d never heard of these worms before either?”

Mrs. Rita shook her head. “No, but the fun part of the job is discovering something new. We found these worms in all the soil samples you and Megan brought back, once we knew what to look for.”

“Let me call Megan real quick. She’ll want to hear about this.”

Mrs. Rita put a hand gently over mine. “Let Megan be, Vincent. I believe she had plans this evening.”

“You mean Herb Wallenby, the man who puts the romance in necromancer?”

Mrs. Rita’s eyes crinkled. “All joking aside, Vincent, you should be happy for Megan.”

“I don’t know, Mrs. Rita. I mean, he talks to the dead. That’s gotta mess with a guy’s head.”

“You know this for certain, Vincent Corinthos?” she asked, arching an eyebrow at me. “Be careful of speaking in generalizations. One might think that deities are arrogant beings who are not concerned with their followers, or that gremlins only care about sabotage, or that animated statues are simply automatons incapable of feeling.”

I raised my hands. “Okay, okay, point taken.”

Mrs. Rita’s features softened. “Vincent, Megan is lonely. She has been in this city for some time now and has no friends outside of work. Her daylight hours are consumed with cases, and her nights are taken up by diplomatic talks and bargains with vampires. The fact that she has not succumbed to the dark offers the vampires have given her speaks volumes about her character.”

“Dark offers?”

Mrs. Rita blinked at me. “Megan is Strigoi Viu, Vincent. She will likely become a powerful vampire.” All children born with cauls had a small chance of being born Strigoi Viu, or living vampire. Upon their death, a Strigoi Viu became a Strigoi Mort, an ultra-powerful vampire lord that would make Dracula look like a wimp. It was so rare that we hadn’t had one in hundreds of years. Megan, unfortunately, had drawn the short straw on that one. “The Midnight Clan can sense the latent power within her, and wants her as an ally,” Mrs. Rita continued. “When Megan finally turns, she will be a formidable force. The Clan has been trying to influence her for some time. They offer her power and wealth, subtly, of course, but Megan is sharp enough to read between the lines. She has talked with me about it quite a bit.”

“Why hasn’t she brought this up with me?” I asked.

“You are her partner, Vincent, but you are also a god. Megan felt you had enough on your plate. Herb is someone outside of work—and someone who understands Megan’s life as no other outsider could. If Petra were a flesh and blood woman, would you have the relationship with her that you do? If she were a mortal, would she accept your jumping between dimensions to be worshipped by a race of psychic fae? What would a person outside of the paranormal circles think of that? You’d be laughed at, or locked up.” She looked at me pointedly. “And you would be lonely, as Megan has been. Do not mock this man for his talents. If he makes Megan happy, then you should be happy for her.”

I looked down at my shoes. Mrs. Rita was right and I felt terrible. “I guess I’ve never looked at it like that,” I said. “Petra’s been a part of my life for so long…”

Mrs. Rita smiled at me. “You are a good person, Vincent. But you do not know everything about everyone. Perhaps you should get to know Herb better. After all, you both will be an important part of Megan’s life.” She patted my arm, and a green flash exploded around us, knocking me flat on my ass.

Mrs. Rita stood a few feet away in a boxer’s stance, panning the room. For a second, I thought her eyes were glowing green. I blinked and they were their normal dark brown again. Must’ve been dazzled by that green flash. “What was that?” I asked as I hauled myself to my feet.

“Roll up your sleeves.” Mrs. Rita ordered.

I did, displaying the mark I’d received earlier. Mrs. Rita frowned at it, then fished a bit of crystal out of her pocket and ran it over the mark. Her dark eyes locked with mine. “You have a Thief’s Mark, Vincent Corinthos. That brand is only put on people who have stolen artifacts of tremendous power. The magical aptitude needed to craft such a brand is immense. How did you acquire this? What did you do?” I opened my mouth and Mrs. Rita put up a hand. “And no stories, Vincent.”

“I Opened a box that wasn’t supposed to be openable,” I said, and quickly explained how the treasure chest had attacked me.

Mrs. Rita shook her head, and a few strands of salt-and-pepper hair came loose from her bun. “Very few people walk away from an encounter with a hand-eater with all their digits,” she said. “You have no idea how lucky you are. This mark will act as a homing beacon for the guardians of the chest. They will pursue you until either you or they are dead.”

“Fantastic. How do I get rid of it?”

“You can either return the item you found in the chest, or you have to defeat whatever was set to protect it.”

“Returning it’s out of the question,” I said. “Can you remove the mark?”

“No, but I can suppress its magic for a time. That will give you the chance to set things right, one way or another. Headquarters is warded, so you are safe here. But the moment you set foot outside the front door, you’ll be a target again.” She walked to her desk and rooted around in the bottom drawers before drawing out a green crystal about as long as my index finger.

She traced several geometric patterns along the brand, the crystal leaving behind a faint green residue. After a few minutes, she nodded. “Done. You are safe for perhaps thirty-six hours, Vincent. Keep in mind that it will only prevent the guardians from tracking you. If they happen across you, this magic will be broken.”

“Great,” I said. “I’ll let you know if I need you to do this again.”

“I will not,” Mrs. Rita said firmly. “You received that brand because you did something you shouldn’t have. I am granting you one chance to make amends. Do you understand?”

I nodded. “So what was the green explosion that just happened?”

“Some of the magics that I employ to keep this building safe reacted violently with the mark,” Mrs. Rita said. “The crystal’s ink will suppress that from happening again.”

I rubbed my forearm. It looked like I had a drunken tattoo artist scrawl all over me. “Thanks for the talk, Mrs. Rita.” She smiled at me and I headed back up to my office.

Once there, I Glimpsed back and came up with a list of the gravesites. I jotted down the list of cemeteries and the names of the people whose graves had been disturbed. I ran the names through the Caulborn’s main database. Jebediah Mason had been an illusionist. Nathaniel Watt had been a wereshark. Agnes MacLaughlin had been a pyromancer. I pushed back from my desk and stretched as I walked over to the whiteboard to start making notes.

If the worms ate their bones, what sort of immunities would the silk have? I grabbed a dry-erase marker and scrawled a few thoughts on the board, trying to look at things from a different angle. What did these beings have in common? Weresharks had loads of teeth, but they had nothing in common with pyromancers or illusionists. And pyromancers and illusionists had nothing in common with each other, aside from the obvious fact that they both slung magic.

I stepped away from the board, capped my marker, and rubbed gritty eyes. It was just after one in the morning, and I couldn’t think straight. I knew I was missing something, and I hate missing things. I rubbed the brand on my arm. What exactly had I given to the Keepers? Thad’s analysis hadn’t sounded like anything bad, but it warranted a Thief’s Mark? I needed answers, but I needed to sleep before I’d get them. I headed home, grimly suspecting that I was going to have nightmares tonight.

Chapter 5

Bargain 19895621 – Fulfilling a promise for a godling. Fulfillment will require assigning a group of sycophants to invisibly ward target. Payment – the Rosario. This is necessary to eliminate the recipient of bargain 1987763, who has failed to deliver the promised amount of precious metals.

—From Keeper Laras’s Transaction Log

Surprisingly, no nightmares came. I listened to my followers, did my best to comfort those Urisk who were afraid of the eclipse, and recharged my faith batteries. After a shower and a hot breakfast, I was ready to tackle the day’s problems.

I got to the office and found Megan at her desk, happily humming “On Top of the World,” by Imagine Dragons. A vintage
The Wizard of Oz
movie poster hung framed over the desk, and a couple of Precious Moments figurines were arranged on a shelf beneath it. “Hey,” she said as I walked in. “I got your message, but I was…” she blushed a little, “busy. What’s going on?”

I told her about the giant blue undead that attacked me last night. Megan raised a hand to her mouth and dialed Herb on her own cell. She and Herb exchanged gooey pleasantries and then she handed the phone over to me.

I described last night’s festivities to him. He let out a whistle. “Sounds like draugr,” he said. “They’re a kind of Norse undead that were very prominent back in the old days. They get very cranky if someone takes something of theirs. Did you steal anything from them?”

“No, of course not,” I lied. No point in Herb knowing about the promise I’d made to Megan. Besides, the promise itself was now moot.

“Hmm,” Herb continued. “Sometimes they’d just reenter the land of the living and go on a bender. I suppose you might have just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“I’d rather no one else wind up in that place if I can help it, Herb. Can you banish them?”