Undead Chaos, page 22
“This stuff is similar to what Normal combat troops carry,” I said, nodding to the empty plastic. “The powder reacts with blood to cauterize the wound.”
Jethrow moaned loudly and pressed against his restraints.
“Will it work?” Quinn asked, tears spilling down her cheeks.
I stared at Jethrow’s ashen face, screwed up in pain, and felt sick. “I don’t know.”
There was another knock at the door and Millie entered. She was followed by a man dressed in a seersucker suit and carrying a small black doctor’s bag. He was tall, had a white handlebar mustache, and wore small round spectacles. He set the bag on the dresser.
“This is Healer Utterback,” Millie said.
The man nodded and gazed at Jethrow. “What happened?” he asked, pulling several instruments from within the bag.
“Sword to the gut,” I replied, trying not to sound as terrified as I felt. “It was deep. Someone tried to patch it, but I think it’s infected. Both Quinn and I used basic healing spells, but they were ineffective. I’ve tried to seal the wound with these emergency packets—”
The Healer put his hand over mine. Then he instructed me to slowly remove my palm from the wound. I slid my hand backward as Utterback pressed hard against the hole in my friend’s gut. There was a wet squish and my bloody hand came free.
The Healer closed his eyes. A muscle clenched in his jaw, and he cocked his head. Jethrow’s movement slowed until, with the exception of his labored panting, he lay perfectly still.
“I need everyone to step out of the room,” the Healer said gravely, his eyes still closed. “Except for the injured,” he added.
I grabbed my cell phone out of the backpack and nodded to Millie. The patroness ushered me, Quinn, Steve, Jones and her waitresses into the hall. She closed the door behind her and directed everyone to the kitchen.
“I think we could all use a cup of tea.” She put on the kettle as we sat heavily at a wooden table.
I placed my forearms on the table and allowed my shoulders to sag. A dull ache thumped in my head to the rhythm of my heartbeat. Tears stung my eyes, and I fought to stamp down the worry and fear that threatened to consume me.
The noise from the diners seemed distant and muted as I stared at my shaking hands.
The blood was dry and cracked already, but the feeling of Jethrow’s life pumping through my fingers was still hot and fresh.
A soft, warm hand wrapped itself around mine, and I looked up. Quinn smiled sweetly and gently pulled me to my feet. She guided me toward the kitchen sink, turned on the water, and scrubbed our hands with mild soap. The metal basin turned a dark red as she rubbed my palm with her thumb. Our fingers were raisins by the time the skin was pink once again.
“There,” she said softly as she dried my hands with a towel. “All better?”
I stared at my wrinkled fingers and nodded.
Millie was pouring hot tea into our mugs when one of the waitresses rolled in. She motioned for her patroness to follow. The two disappeared into the diner. Millie returned moments later.
“Marcus, would you come here, please?”
I glanced at Quinn, who shrugged and took the towel from me.
I followed Millie into the diner and we weaved through tables. Several heads turned to watch my progress, their eyes hopeful for more drama.
“They yours?” she asked, stopping in front of a large picture window. At first I saw nothing through the dirty exterior but steam rising from a vent. As the wisps curled into the air I heard two small “plinks” followed by muted whispers of my name.
I squinted and saw a pair of bees bouncing against the glass.
“Huh.”
Millie walked to the front door and opened it. The bees tore around the side of the building and raced up to me. They buzzed in my face excitedly, their whispers too fast and overlapping for me to understand. I shushed them repeatedly, speaking in even tones until they finally calmed down.
“How’d you find me?” I asked.
“Search,” one said and visions flashed in my mind. I saw the flowers and trees around the Homestead through the bee’s ultraviolet eyes and felt her dismay when she ran into a large transparent wall. The other foragers bounced against it as well, but were prevented from returning to their hives. Confused at first, they met with the thousands of other bees facing the same issue. Alarmed, they determined their Keeper needed to know. They separated into pairs and traveled well beyond their three-mile radius to find me.
For all but two, it was a one-way trip.
A new ache rose in my chest.
“Danger Keeper-Hive,” she whispered loudly.
“Danger?”
“Many Not-Keepers,” the other said, and more ultraviolet images appeared in my mind. I saw human shapes running between trees and smelled smoke.
My confusion was replaced with terror as the meaning of the images dawned on me. “Someone is attacking the Homestead?”
“Yes! Keeper-Hive Danger!”
I jerked the phone out of my pocket, ignoring the dried blood caked on the casing, and dialed my family. An automated message said that the call could not go through. I tried both my parents’ numbers and got a similar message. I cursed, shoved the phone back in my pocket, then ran to the kitchen with bees in tow.
“The Homestead is under attack! Ten bucks says it’s Quaos.”
“Why would they attack your family?” Quinn asked.
“The folks have something they want.”
Steve stared for a moment, then nodded. “Okay, let’s roll.”
“Thanks, but I need you to protect our friends upstairs. There’s a chance Quaos might come after them as well.”
The Minotaur opened his mouth but Millie beat him to the punch.
“No one will harm them.”
“Works for me,” Steve said. “I’m in.”
“Me too,” Quinn added.
“Absolutely not,” I started to say, but she cut me off with a wave of her hand.
“My father is not coming back, Marcus. If the people responsible for that are now attacking your family, then I want payback.” Lightning flashed in her eyes with the intensity of a hundred thunderstorms.
I glanced between the two and gritted my teeth. “Fine.” I turned to Jones. “I suppose you want in on this, too.”
“Oh, hell no,” the Oracle replied. “I’m not much of a fighter, and I had my fill at the Quaos base. You guys can go get yourselves killed if you like, but if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather stay here and help our wounded.”
“Fair enough,” I said, thankful for his honesty.
Too many good people have died over the years because they felt compelled to be more than they were. Visions of the future or not, inexperienced people like Jones were usually the first ones killed in combat.
I scribbled my number on a scrap of paper and handed it to him. “The phone lines are down at the Homestead. Look after our friends here and give me an update when you can.”
Jones nodded, but his gaze strayed to the pretty waitress who’d skated into the kitchen. She dumped my stuff on the table, gave me a nod, then rolled out. I slipped into the backpack and heaved Nick’s bag of books onto a shoulder. I held out my hand to Jones.
“Thank you.”
He frowned. “For what?”
“For proving that I was right about you.”
The Oracle smiled and shook my hand. “That’s a good thing, right?”
“I sure as hell hope so.” Then I nodded to my gang. Steve, Quinn, the bees and I bade Jones and Millie farewell and exited the diner at a full sprint.
Chapter Eighteen
Into the Fire
Several minutes later we stepped through the doorway of the Underground and into the bright, warm sunlight of the mortal Washington DC.
As the door sealed behind us, we ran full tilt toward the parking garage where I’d left the Gray Ghost. There were few people out and about—word of our arrival would be slow to spread. With any luck, it would give us time to get to the Homestead before Quaos knew we were coming.
The security man at the entrance of the garage stared wide-eyed at our band. We bypassed him without slowing and took the elevator down to the Ghost. I unlocked it, threw the two bags in the back, unhitched my sword, and we jumped in.
Well, Quinn, the bees and I jumped in. Steve struggled to fold himself into the backseat. Even with him scrunched down, I couldn’t see out the rearview mirror.
“This sucks,” he grumbled as we pulled up to the exit gate.
“You wanted to come along,” I said, handing the attendant more money than was necessary. The man reached blankly for the bills while staring at Steve.
The Minotaur rolled his eyes. “Dude, you gonna open this gate or what?”
The attendant stammered, but the arm lifted and I stepped on the gas before he changed his mind.
We pulled onto a side street and took the exit to the 14th Street Bridge. Traffic was unusually light, so I pressed the pedal to the floor. We raced across the bridge and down the ramp onto the George Washington Memorial Parkway. I nearly creamed an eco-friendly crunchy-mobile as I accelerated through the “yield” sign and completely ignored the meek, sissy horn that blared at me.
As we sped down the historic road, I whipped my phone out and punched a number. The automated answering service picked up, and I entered the code for the receptionist.
“Delwinn Council main office,” the lady on the other end answered in a polite, practiced voice.
“This is Warlock Shifter. Patch me through to Harper or any Elder. Now.”
“I’m sorry, but all Elders are in a meeting and are unavailable. If I can take your name and number I’ll—”
“I have an emergency here, lady!” I shouted. “Patch me through to someone important or I will reach through this phone and throttle you.”
“Sir, there is no need for—”
I cursed, hung up, then dialed a second number.
“I’m on a date, Shifter,” a gruff voice said.
“Arbent, I need to call in a favor.”
The man chuckled with the sound of gravel in a pail. “You’re out of favors, pal. Or have you forgotten about the vampire debacle last year?”
“Fine,” I snarled, jerking the Ghost around a dented pickup. “Then I’ll owe you one. There’s an emergency at the Homestead, and I need a response team activated immediately.”
“You’ve already tried the Council?” His tone turned serious.
“Of course. Couldn’t get past the receptionist.”
“Friggin’ red tape,” Arbent grumbled. “Listen, Shifter, I don’t know if I can activate a team without proper approval.”
“Screw regulations!” I snapped. “A bunch of nut-jobs are attacking my family! Get off your ass and get me some Warlocks!”
“Holy hell, okay,” Arbent said after a moment of silence. “But you owe me big time for this.”
“I’ll name my firstborn Joel.”
“Use my first name again,” he growled, “and I’ll beat you to death.”
“Love you too, Arbent. Now get me some firepower.”
I hung up with a frustrated grunt
“Who was that?” Quinn asked.
“Joel Arbent. He’s one of the Council’s senior coordinators for quick-reaction teams. If someone doesn’t trip him up, he can get a squad of Warlocks to the Homestead in less than thirty minutes.”
She sighed with relief. “Thank goodness.”
“I’m just glad someone finally listened to me.”
My revelry was cut short by the sight of a sedan in my side mirror. It rapidly closed the distance and overtook us as if we were standing still. As it passed, I noted red robes flapping in the open windows. The occupants cheered wildly, paying no attention to the Ghost as they accelerated.
Hot flames licked the inside of my chest. With a scowl, I dropped a gear and stomped on the gas. The Ghost lurched forward and the tachometer screamed with agony as we gained on the sedan.
“Marcus?” Quinn asked as I slid the pistol from the holster. Instead of answering, I whipped the Ghost around the sedan, leveled my pistol out the window with my free hand, and pulled the trigger.
The gun thundered several times and bullets skipped over the hood. One or two clipped the front quarter-panel, but a handful slammed into the engine compartment. Steam exploded from the front, and there was a squealing noise from within. The vehicle jerked and slowed, falling quickly behind us as we continued down the road unimpeded.
Quinn pulled her fingers from her ears. “Nice shooting.”
“Thank Lady Luck,” I replied. “The chances of hitting anything vital were slim.”
“Then why’d you do it?”
“’Cause he was pissed,” Steve said. “Or stupid.”
Both, actually.
The Parkway ended, and we immediately raced up the ramp for Georgetown Pike faster than the Commonwealth of Virginia recommended. We nearly rocked up on two wheels as we made the turn onto the narrow winding road between McLean and Great Falls. With the exception of an expensive European sports car that we left in our wake, the Pike was relatively clear.
The Gray Ghost tore into the tiny village like a big square bullet. We blew past the fire station and tiny shopping complex and sailed over the first set of rolling hills. The local speed trap was unoccupied, and I sent up a prayer of thanks for the assist.
I kept up the idiotic pace until we turned onto the drive for the Homestead. We hit the gravel at an angle and the tires spun as they struggled for traction. Without warning, I stood on the brakes and yanked the Ghost sideways into the woods. We bounced several times before coming to a halt in a thicket of trees.
“What was that for?” Quinn asked. Her face was stark white and she was gasping for air. I grimaced and pointed down the road to the smoldering remains of the guard shack. The large iron gates were twisted and bent as if inhuman hands had ripped them apart. There was no sign of Frank, but a lot of bodies in red robes littered the ground.
Several meters from the ruined checkpoint was a hazy, shimmering dome that stretched far into the sky. Numerous agents stood at the base, pounding weapons or spells on it with manic force. Colored sparks exploded against the structure, but nothing penetrated.
“That barrier is part of the automatic defense system for the Homestead,” I said. “It only activates if the family is under serious attack. No wonder my calls wouldn’t go through. Once up, it seals the Homestead off from everything.”
Quinn pointed to a handful of robed men already knee deep in the red Virginia clay. “Some of the attackers are apparently trying to burrow underneath it.”
“Won’t do them any good,” I replied. “The barrier is a sphere that encompasses the entire property. You can’t fly, pound or dig your way in. The only way through is to shut the thing down entirely, and that can only be accomplished from within. Even then, only a Shifter can perform the spell. At least, in theory.”
“In theory?” Steve asked.
“It’s been a few hundred years since it was last activated, and the instruction manual is written in old-old-old Latin. I can hardly figure out how to set my coffeemaker, so I didn’t bother learning all the details.”
“That seems like an important piece of knowledge to have in your back pocket,” the Minotaur said.
“Yeah, now it does. When you’re a teenager, you’re more interested in breasts and cars.”
Steve’s nostrils flared, but he stayed quiet.
“So we’re locked out?” Quinn asked, redirecting the conversation back to the crisis at hand.
“Not entirely. There’s an emergency access point. Come on.” I jumped out of the car. The bees followed and landed on my shoulder. I buckled the sword to my back and slid the pistol back into the holster. “We’re too exposed here.”
As we stepped away from the Ghost, a small truck packed with agents in red robes came tearing down the road. It fishtailed wildly in the gravel, and the occupants hooted through the open windows. They were so distracted that they didn’t see us.
They also failed to notice their fellow attackers beating uselessly against the barrier. Several agents successfully leaped out of the way as the truck bore down on them. One or two were not as lucky and went sailing over the cab as it plowed through them.
A moment later the vehicle crashed into the shimmering wall like a freight train.
There was a horrific screech of metal and the hood crumpled like an accordion. The agents in bed were launched out while the occupants in the cabin were thrown through the windshield at over sixty miles an hour. Even at our distance I could hear the sickening sound of multiple bones shattering. I winced, but felt little remorse for the attackers. It simply meant less bad guys to worry about.
“Apparently it works,” Quinn muttered. I nodded and we turned away from the carnage and toward the thickness of the woods.
“Be careful,” I said, as we pushed into the forest. “Another part of the family defenses is the number of unpleasant things prowling the perimeter. Normally they don’t mess with a member of the Shifter family, so you all should be safe since you’re traveling with me.”
“Should be?” Quinn asked.
“With the barrier up, I have no idea how they might react. It’s best we keep our heads on a swivel and be ready just in case.”
We trotted through the fallen trees for a few minutes without incident, bypassing several more clumps of attackers futilely banging on the barrier. As much as I wanted to engage the enemy, it would be wasted energy. The barrier would protect the Homestead for as long as was necessary.
Eventually we came to a small brook with an old stone pump-house on the bank. It was disheveled and completely covered with moss. I glanced around to make sure no one was nearby, then approached the rotting door. I spoke the safe-word under my breath and gave the door a slight tap with my Skill. There was a pause, then it squeaked open an inch.
