Vampires Don't Sparkle: Deathless Book 3 (25 page)

Chapter 44- Power Armor

Jordan clenched his fist, growling as Trevor sped away. He watched as the skiff gained altitude, totally unsurprised when it began firing at the worm. The worm that had been crushing Ra’s army, but that was now chasing Trevor. The fucker had just saved their enemy from total destruction.

“Gahhh,” he bellowed, shattering a nearby rock with his fist. He felt so damned powerless, not just because the collar prevented him from shifting. It was also because he couldn’t stop Trevor, whose loyalties were quite obviously shifting to Ra. That would make him an enemy again, one that even Jordan had to admit was damned formidable.

“What troubles you, Ka-Dun?” a voice came from behind him.

Jordan spun, reaching for the gun belted at his side. Except his gun was gone, knocked away during the fight with Trevor. He was unarmed, for the first time since he’d become a werewolf. An old man with long, stringy white hair and a sun-weathered face stood before him—hardly a threat, though, at least not an obvious one.
 

“Who the fuck are you?” Jordan shot back, slipping into a combat stance.

“I could provide a litany of names, but I suspect you are a man of little patience. Please, call me Hades,” the old man said, giving a friendly nod. He leaned heavily on a simple wooden staff. “How are you called?”

“Name’s Jordan,” he growled back.

Be wary, Ka-Dun. This one is old, and very powerful. A sorcerer who styles himself a god.

“Well, Ka-Dun Jordan, I can see you have a problem. One I may be able to assist with,” the old man said, delivering a warm smile. It was somehow predatory.

“What problem might that be?” Jordan asked, narrowing his eyes behind his sunglasses. Thankfully they were wrap-around, which was the only reason the violent winds hadn’t tugged them away. A particularly violent gust knocked him a step closer to the old man.

“You’re wearing a collar of shi-dun. That means you are locked in human form, and are the plaything of the collar’s owner,” Hades said, shaking his head sadly. “If you pick up your companion and carry him below, then I will free you from the collar’s limitations.”

Jordan looked back at Ra’s army. The worm was distant now, still chasing Trevor’s skiff. That meant Ra and her troops would be here soon.
 

“All right, lead the way,” Jordan said, leaning down to scoop up Wepwawet’s unconscious form. The wolf-headed god gave a groan of pain, the first sign he’d exhibited that he might be returning to consciousness.

Hades turned without a word, walking quickly into a neighboring building. He moved like a much younger man, the pretense of age falling away as he quickly gained ground. Jordan struggled to keep up. He hadn’t rested well in days, and it had been over a week since he’d seen the moon. That made his burden heavier than it should have been.

They made their way deep into the earth, passing down stairways carved into rock caverns. It reminded him of a trip he’d taken to the Oregon Caves a few years back, the wet stone illuminated by a very modern flashlight Hades had withdrawn from his bedraggled robes.

“How far is it?” Jordan grunted after a particularly treacherous stairwell. It was growing hotter, and he’d begun to sweat.

“Not far,” Hades said, threading through stalactites as he crossed a wide chamber. He emerged into a room unlike any they’d passed thus far. This one had clearly been worked by human hands, far more than had been used to create the simple stairs they’d used to get down here.

The walls were smooth and flat, seamless granite extending hundreds of yards into the distance. Below was a hellish vista, huge iron cauldrons full of molten metal. The air stank of sulfur, and Jordan’s eyes stung from the heat. Dozens of uniformly black figures moved about the room. Some worked at anvils that could have come from medieval Europe, while others worked on the type of machinery he’d have expected to see at a Mohn facility.
 

It was an odd mix, and it raised some troubling questions. Modern machining was delicate work, and required massive factories to produce. The robotic assemblies and conveyor belts here must have been manufactured elsewhere. That meant they’d been created before the CME. How long had this place been in operation?

“This way, this way,” Hades said, beckoning Jordan to follow him into the factory. “Welcome to The Forge. It has been used for thousands of years to construct countless wonders. Even now it labors to create even greater works.”

Jordan followed, his arms burning from the strain of carrying Wepwawet’s heavy body. They threaded through the Forge, surrounded by a sea of pounding hammers and flying sparks on one side, modern robotic assemblies turning out recognizable pieces of power armor on the other. Eventually they reached the far side, where Hades finally paused. He stopped at a raised dais, where a single figure was working.

“Holy. Shit,” Jordan said, depositing Wepwawet’s body at the base of the stairs so he could get a closer look. “That’s a modified X-11. Where the hell did you get Mohn power armor?”

There were some differences, but the man-sized suit of armor was unmistakable. It was the same type he’d worn in San Diego, and later in Peru. Both times he’d fought werewolves, and both times he’d lost. That didn’t mean the suit wasn’t powerful, though. It turned a normal soldier into a formidable killing machine, and the idea that someone was still manufacturing them was troubling. Especially when that someone was a god with unknown motives.

“I see you’ve some familiarity with my work,” a man next to the armor said, rising to his feet. He was bare to the waist, his bald head slick with sweat and soot. He turned to Jordan and gave a respectful nod. “I am called Vulcan, the smith. Who might you be, little Ka-Dun?”

“Jordan,” he replied, turning his attention back to the armor. “You built the original X-11?”

“No, I’d love to claim credit, but that goes to a man from this age. What I have done is dramatically improve upon his work,” Vulcan said, crossing tree-trunk arms as he beamed a smile at his work. He patted the black metal arm. “I’ve made the metal stronger and lighter, and I’ve also insulated the internals. Sunstorms won’t affect it, nor will bursts of electricity.”

“That definitely sounds useful,” Jordan admitted. The traditional X-11s were worthless after the CME, unless Mohn had some mothballed somewhere. Even if they did, those suits could only be used until a sunstorm showed up. If they were exposed, their internals would be cooked almost instantly. “What else have you done to make it different?”

“For starters, the metal can be charged with the same energy you absorb from the moon, or the deathless draw from the sun,” Vulcan explained. He removed his thick black apron, dropping the leather to the ground. “The metal is malleable when charged, which means it can shift with you. My new V-11 will turn someone like you into a one man army. Even other champions or deathless would fear you. If you went up against someone like Anubis, I’d lay even odds a young whelp like you could take him.”

Jordan studied the armor, daring to dream a little. It would dramatically enhance his combat abilities, allowing him to make a difference against Ra. It would make him far more than a match for Trevor, too. In short, it was too good to be true.

“I feel like you’re setting me up to buy something,” Jordan said, folding his arms as he stared Vulcan down. “The armor seems amazing, but I have nothing to pay you with. How about we end the pitch, and you tell me what it’s going to take to get this collar off? That is what Hades here promised he could do.”

Hades and Vulcan shared an unreadable look. Something significant passed there, but Jordan had no idea what it was. He wasn’t all that good at the double-dealing social arena the Director had thrived in. He was a soldier, not a politician.

“It’s very simple,” Hades said, turning back to Jordan. “The collar cannot be removed, save by the person wearing the bracelet. However, its influence can be neutralized. Vulcan?”

“He’s right,” the shorter god replied, giving a tight nod as he slapped the armor with his palm. “If you wear the V-11 armor, the armor will siphon power from the collar. This process will prevent the collar from restricting your abilities, while simultaneously ensuring that the armor functions for an extended duration. In short, if you wear the armor you’ll be free from the collar. You can shift and shape as normal, so long as you wear it.”

“So I’m exchanging one prison for another then,” Jordan said, maybe with a little more hostility than he’d intended. “Let’s say I agree to this. What do you get out of it?”

Vulcan cleared his throat and looked away. Hades, on the other hand, gave a too-friendly smile and wrapped an arm around Jordan’s shoulder. “Not more than three hours ago I met with a Ka-Dun named Blair. I believe he was a part of your pack. Blair and I share a goal. Are you familiar with the name Osiris?”

Jordan knocked Hades’s arm from his shoulder and took a step back. He eyed the god balefully. “Yeah, I’ve heard the name. Is that where you got all this tech?”

“Hardly,” Vulcan broke in. His glowered at Jordan. “We’re not lapdogs to that tyrant. We’ve been stealing his tech for two decades, and he’s none the wiser.”

“What Vulcan means,” Hades said, his gaze clearly warning Vulcan to keep quiet, “is that we’re no friends of Osiris. He’s conquered the entirety of the underworld. In doing so he’s isolated our brethren in the city of Olympus. You probably didn’t see it in the sky above, as it was obscured by the storm. It is locked elsewhere, until we can restore our conduit to the Well deep within the earth. Osiris prevents that, which makes him our enemy. You are no doubt familiar with the phrase the enemy of my enemy is my friend?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard it,” Jordan said. He didn’t like this, not one bit. “Osiris is an enemy, so far as we can tell. So maybe we have that in common. Walk me through your plan. I take the armor, then what?”

“You take the armor, which makes you faster and stronger. It also frees you from the collar, so you can leave this place,” Hades explained, putting on another magnanimous smile. “You head north to the land known as France, where you will overtake your pack. You add your now tremendous strength to theirs, and aid them in stopping Osiris. Once Osiris is stopped, Vulcan reforges our conduit to the Well, and we free our sleeping brethren.”

“Sounds simple enough,” Jordan said, though he knew it would be anything but. He nodded at Wepwawet’s unconscious form. “What about our wolf-headed friend here?”

“Ra will be here shortly, as soon as she’s dealt with the distraction left by Isis. When she arrives, I will give him into her custody. You needn’t worry. Wepwawet will be fine,” Hades said, his tone all assurances. “Have we a deal?”

Jordan was torn. There was more to this than Hades had explained, but he’d be damned if he could see the catch.

“All right, I accept,” he said, offering his hand to Hades.

Chapter 45- Baiting the Trap

Hades stared after Jordan, grinning widely. That had gone better than he could have dreamed. Another seed planted.

“I do not condone this, Hades. If not for the sake of our brethren, I would oppose you,” Vulcan said, frowning darkly as he hauled Wepwawet to his feet. “Giving that Ka-Dun a set of my armor is one thing. He is young, and his need is dire. He might be willing to pay the price the armor will ultimately demand, but this? We are forcing a god to don it without choice.”

“I understand your reservations,” Hades said, as placatingly as he could muster. He breathed deeply, enjoying the hot stench of coal and metal. “Yet we do what we must. If we do not force Wepwawet to don the armor, then we have no way of knowing Ra’s movements. Doing so will be critical. If she is in league with Osiris we must know it, and if she is not then we can at least learn the answer this way.”

“It is wrong, Hades. As is much you have asked me to do,” Vulcan said, snarling. Yet he pushed Wepwawet’s unconscious form into the dock where the second set of armor lay. He propped the body up, and began the sequence that caused the robotic arms to mount the armor.
 

“I don’t disagree,” Hades said, giving what he hoped was a genuine sigh. Would that he didn’t need Vulcan’s cooperation, but he was not yet ready to betray his companion. He had use for him still. “It is wrong. Yet so is what Osiris has done to our brethren. Do you wish to see Zeus again? Poseidon? If we do not overcome Osiris and restore the conduit, our family is lost forever.”

“They may be lost already. How could they have survived so long without the energy of the conduit? They’d have been forced to turn on each other,” Vulcan said, his voice quavering.
 

The robotic arms in the stall began to whir and buzz as they affixed armor to Wepwawet’s body. Hades couldn’t help but smile. Once the process was complete, Wepwawet would have no means of removing the armor. He’d be trapped, as surely as the unwitting Ka-Dun had been.

“Haaaaades,” came a roar, louder than thunder. It suppressed even the din of the Forge, an impressive feat. The voice was both feminine and terrifyingly familiar. “Show yourself, you treacherous little weasel.”

“Complete the process. I will stall her,” Hades snapped, whirling and heading towards the voice. He threaded his way back through the Forge, careful to avoid the numerous automatons carrying out Vulcan’s work.
 

He was playing a very dangerous game. Ra had the power to kill him, and even if by some miracle he overcame her, Anubis wouldn’t be far from her side. He had to convince her both that he was no threat and that his actions had been in her best interest. Damn Set and his pride. Had he not required Hades to plant a spy with both Isis and Ra, then he wouldn’t be in this position.

“Ahhh, mighty Ra,” Hades said, giving a low bow as Ra swept into the mouth of the Forge. She wore the same ivory and gold regalia he’d seen over a dozen millennia before. Her stark beauty hadn’t changed a whit, nor had the lethal way she twirled her spear. “I have been expecting you. I have much news to share, and I can even offer a potent new weapon.”

“Where is Wepwawet? And what of the Ka-Dun Jordan?” she demanded, stalking forward until she stood mere inches from Hades. Hades was not a short man, yet Ra stared him in the eye, her lean body coiled, ready to strike.