The Romulus Equation (16 page)

‘V-volcano?' asked Prometheus.

‘It's dormant, ape-man. You do know what that means,
oui
? Like the activity in between your ears,' snarled Renard. ‘Even once you get inside, how on earth do you expect to find your precious Cornelius, Mother?' he asked Destine, but then his scarred face burst a grin onto his lipless mouth. ‘Oh, I see! Your handy emotions detector, eh? I could make good use of knowing what people are feeling… of being inside their heads, experiencing their agony firsthand. That would keep me entertained for months!'

‘Just like your father, you seek to find new sport from inflicting pain,' said Destine, through clenched teeth. ‘I sensed his thumbprint when I was inside that twisted head of yours! Thanks to Philippe's conditioning combined with that damned Consortium, your soul is as black as night! There truly is no hope for you, my son.'

‘Cornelius and I have much in common then,' sneered Renard.

‘You've got nothing in common with him, filth!' boomed Prometheus, giving the Frenchman a jolt, sending a shock of pain into the man's guts. ‘Cornelius is worth ten of you! Now, how are we going to find this Baron Remus bloke in this place?'

‘What makes you think that you will?' asked Renard.

‘What's that supposed to mean? You said he was here!'

‘He means that Remus will find
us
,' interrupted Destine. ‘Ignore him, Aiden.'

‘Yeah, but he's got a point though, ain't he? That place… it's the bloody Hades Consortium's headquarters!' said Prometheus, nodding at the foundry. ‘Are you sure about this, Madame?'

‘Of course she is, you brainless oaf!' growled Renard. ‘She can probably sense him. She feels far more for Quaint than she ever did for me. She would go to the ends of the earth to save him, yet she would gladly abandon me, her true son, to the depths of hell. And speaking of which… once people go into that foundry, unless the Hades Consortium wishes it, they do not come out again.'

‘Well, if this is where we need to go then we don't need you any more, do we, lad? I've been wanting to do this for days!' Prometheus let go of Renard's limp body and it crashed awkwardly to the ground. He loomed over him, his fists balled.

‘No, Aiden!' Destine leapt towards him, clinging onto his arm. ‘He is baiting you! We are still a long way from our goal and we may still need him. If he dies, then we have no way of getting inside to Cornelius! We would be lost!'

Renard glared at the strongman. ‘I'd listen to her if I were you. She can see the future, you know.' He held out his hand to the Irishman. ‘Now help me to my feet.'

Growling into his beard, Prometheus had no choice. Although he would have loved to deposit the Frenchman in the nearest gutter, he knew that Destine was right. As much as it pained him, they did need Renard. For now, at least. But not for ever.

Prometheus clamped his great hand around Renard's – and then Renard clamped back. As strong as Prometheus was, Renard's metal hand was stronger.

‘I grow tired of you carting me about like a sack of potatoes, ape-man!' Renard yelled. ‘And I will tolerate it no more!' He tensed his grip and broke three of Prometheus's fingers instantly. The Irishman screamed out in pain.

‘Enough!' cried Destine, pushing herself between them. ‘Aiden, are you all right?'

‘The bastard broke my damn fingers!' roared Prometheus. ‘I'm going to—'

‘Do nothing!' Destine snapped. ‘If you take your anger out upon him where will that leave us right when we have need of him?
Non, mon ami
, that will not do at all.' She returned her attention to Renard. ‘Where is the entrance to the foundry? Tell me, or I shall let my hound off his leash?'

‘Beneath the chimneystack to the left there is a door,' replied Renard. ‘But beware. There are sentries all around the perimeter of this place, and at any moment our lives might be in danger.'

‘Then you had better offer a convincing case for our survival,' said Destine.

They walked towards the wire fencing surrounding the vast foundry and pushed open the gate that hung limply from rusted hinges. The ground inside the perimeter was rough and uneven, a wide open space of wasteland. Formerly the yard had housed the output from the factory, the iron casings to be shipped worldwide, but the Hades Consortium had seen an end to that.

As they arrived at a large set of iron doors, Prometheus spotted a couple of men wearing grey overalls milling about near the entrance. They were carrying metal pipes, stacking them into a pile on one side.

‘I thought this place wasn't supposed to be in use,' he said.

‘It's all for show,' said Renard. ‘Wait for it…'

The two men dropped their iron pipes and pulled pistols from their overalls.

‘Trespassing is forbidden,' one of them said in Italian. ‘This area is off limits!'

‘You may dispense with the act, I am a Consortium operative,' said Renard. ‘My name is Antoine Renard and I am expected inside or Baron Remus shall hear of it.'

The two men looked at each other, uncertain what to do.

‘Did you hear what I just said?' spat Renard at the men. ‘If you do not open these doors, the Baron shall rip your gizzards out and feast upon your entrails!'

After a short and whispered conference, the men seemed to accept Renard's bargain and allowed Destine, Prometheus and him entry.

‘We apologise, sir,' said one of the guards, holstering his gun. ‘We were not warned to expect your arrival.'

‘No, it was a bit of a spur of the moment decision… right after I got shot in the guts, as I recall,' growled Renard. ‘Now let us pass at once. We have urgent business with Lady Sirona… and my life happens to depend on it!'

*

Destine walked cautiously behind Renard and Prometheus, her eyes darting to and fro. In through the foundry's main entrance, they had walked along winding corridors that stank of oil and grease. Massive iron pipes fastened to the ceiling stretched from one end of each corridor to the other, and the party walked steadily along – with Renard as their compass. The place was dark and the walls were stained with a thick substance like tar, dripping down over the brickwork. Although Destine saw no one, she could feel the emotions of many men positioned within the shadows, observing her company's every move. It was like being in a church, with every footstep too loud, every breath too sharp. She quickened her pace to arrive at Prometheus's side.

‘We've been walking for ages and seen nobody!' said the Irishman. ‘I thought this place was supposed to be the Hades Consortium's base.'

‘
Oui, mon cher
, it is,' replied Destine. ‘And just because we cannot see them, it does not mean that we are not being observed.'

‘Scared, Mother? You can always hold my hand.' Renard offered his metal hand, cackling as Destine swatted it away.

‘I am not scared,' she said. ‘Just eager.'

‘To meet the Baron?' laughed Renard. ‘That's a first. And what do you expect to do once you meet him, eh? Get inside his head like you did with me? I doubt very much that it would work on him. What I said to those two idiots at the door just now? That was no empty threat. Remus really would do all of that to them and more besides. I'm a monster, true… but I'm nowhere near the Baron's league, trust me.'

In his quarters, Baron Remus paced relentlessly like a caged animal in a zoo. Thick curtains were drawn across the windows, yet streams of moonlight speared the darkness. As he passed through them, his body shook and he growled with irritation. The moon was calling him and the change was almost upon him. He clenched his fingers into fists as his guts churned inside him. Distracted by a bustling outside his door, he snatched it open to see Carmine Jacobi stood there.

‘You are late,' snarled Remus.

‘We had some…
difficulties
procuring what you asked for,' replied Jacobi. ‘She was a little resistant, but my men managed to persuade her eventually. When money fails, I always find that the threat of physical violence is an altogether more reliable option.'

Remus narrowed his eyes. ‘She is not too badly damaged, I trust? Show her to me.'

Jacobi held open the door, and two Hades Consortium guards clad head to foot in dark red robes pushed a young woman into the room. Her skirts were ripped and torn, and her nose was bloodied. Remus's eyes flared as the woman spat and cursed.

‘A spirited one, eh?' he noted. ‘The blood is always that much sweeter when they struggle. Leave us, Jacobi… I have a hunger to satisfy and I prefer to dine alone.'

Jacobi did not need to be told twice and he ushered the two guards from the room, lingering nervously at the threshold.

‘Is something wrong, Jacobi?' Remus asked.

‘No, not at all. It's just… this is the third one this week, Adolfo. Sooner or later, someone is going to wonder where all the whores have gone.'

‘We are the Hades Consortium,' said Remus. ‘We can make more.'

Jacobi toyed with the cuffs of his shirt, avoiding Remus's glare. ‘We are prepared to turn a blind eye to your requests, but must you…?'

‘Must I what?' asked Remus.

‘What you do to them after you have had your way. Adolfo… it's inhuman. A slit throat or a bullet in the heart, no one cares about that… But the way you leave them… it is enough to make people think there is a wild animal on the loose!'

‘Your concern is noted, Jacobi. You may now leave,' said Remus.

Jacobi did as he was told, his face a picture of discontent. Remus turned to the young prostitute on the floor, glaring at him with her wild eyes. He bent down and untied the ropes around her wrists, and in a flash, she had pulled a small-bladed dagger from her ankle boot. As the woman jabbed the knife towards him; Remus caught hold of her wrist and snapped the bones with a quick twist. The woman screamed and the knife fell to the floor. Cradling her arm, the broken bone protruding through the flesh, she wept noisily. Kicking out, she managed to get to her feet and run to the door. With her good hand she tried to turn the handle but it was too stiff to budge.

‘Open this damn door!' she demanded. ‘Let me go!'

‘So soon?' Remus asked, unbuttoning his shirt. ‘But then you will miss all the fun.' For a man of his age, his body was lean and his torso was covered with an abundance of thick, grey hair. Slowly, he let his trousers fall to the floor, displaying his nakedness. He threw open the curtains to allow moonlight to flood the room. The change was upon him fully now and he welcomed it. He rocked his head from side to side, the bones cricking together like a snapping brazier. He tensed his fingers one by one as each fingernail grew longer, sharpening into a point. The flesh on his back rippled and pulsed, as if something beneath the skin was trying to push its way out. His muscles firmed, his spine arched. Blood dripped from his mouth as yellowed fangs protruded through his gums. Glaring with wild eyes at his feast, he could almost taste her already. He pounced on her, clawing at the young woman's clothes, tearing her dress from her. Batting away his advances, the woman leapt to her feet, screaming for help – pleas that even if overheard would be ignored. She ran around his desk, trying to put an obstacle between them, but it was pointless. He leapt over it in one bound, landing deftly by her side. He snatched the back of her neck and smashed her face into the wood repeatedly. Her features mashed into a pulp, painting her face in blood. He tasted it, savoured it. Still holding her neck, he pushed her onto her stomach and kicked out her legs.

‘Enjoy this,' he hissed, his saliva dribbling onto her spine, ‘your last moment.'

The attack lasted less than five minutes and the woman was on the verge of collapse. With his hunger almost satiated, Remus's fangs pierced the back of her neck, spurting a fountain of blood onto the window pane. Ravenously, he devoured her.

He had quenched his thirst for now, but to satiate it completely he would need a far more satisfying meal…

Cornelius Quaint was tiring with every step. The air was so thin that his group's progress had become laboured. Quaint saw Romulus stop ahead of the group, holding his torch aloft. Its flame flickered erratically, its colour dancing between blue and green. Quaint became bewitched to such a degree that his eyes nearly leapt from their sockets.

‘Down!' he yelled, snatching the torch from Romulus's hands, throwing it with all his might behind him.

A streak of green flame burst into life, shooting back across the tunnel roof. There was a tremendous whoosh of the air before the flame died out just as quickly as it had arrived.

‘Gas pocket,' said Quaint, dusting himself down. ‘No more torches. We make the rest of the journey in the dark. Every man place your hand on the shoulder of the man in front of you.'

‘But… how will we be able to follow the map if we cannot see?' Viktor asked.

Romulus's low voice spoke next. ‘My brother gives off a unique scent. I will simply follow my nose.'

‘How far is he?' Quaint asked.

‘My lupine senses are acute but not that acute,' Romulus replied. ‘We are close, my friend. That is all I can say for now. If you want a more accurate distance I must give in to my affliction… just for a time.'

‘Won't that be dangerous?' asked Quaint. ‘For you and for us, considering we're in the dark!'

‘As deep under the surface as we are, I am shielded from the moonlight, but the transformation is still pulling at me. I will not submit, Cornelius!' Romulus stamped his foot to affirm his point, but his torture was plain for all to see. Every moment wrenched at his soul, tearing his humanity from his grasp. It was like being on the verge of complete and utter abandon, the release inviting him, beckoning him towards it and it took all his strength to fight its pull.