The one downside to the Bright Side is there’s no cellphone coverage there. Once I was back in Boston, I pulled out my phone and called Doc Ryan. “If one of those worms eats living paranormal tissue, the worms take control of the body,” I told him. “I’ve got a sample of them I’d like to bring by for analysis.” I held the ball of amber that I’d pulled from Daimin in my left hand. Part of me wanted to pitch it into the ocean and drown the hateful little things. But knowing my luck, they’d probably infest some sea monster, and then the Caulborn would have to fight off lousy Godzilla-wanna-be villains on top of everything else.
I caught a cab back to HQ, dropped off the amber with Doc, and met up with Megan and Herb. We all piled into Megan’s Tercel and headed over to Monument Square. Police cruisers were parked along the road, and a handful of barricades had been erected. I saw Frank Grady talking to some reporters and he waved us past the barriers.
“—just some training exercises,” Grady said. “The BPD is committed to ensuring the public’s safety in any circumstances, and these new training exercises help ensure we stay sharp. The park will be open to the public again this evening.” I gave Frank a wave as Megan, Herb, and I walked further into the park and away from the public’s field of vision.
The Bunker Hill monument loomed above us, its shadow a long straight line across the grass as the sun set behind it. Most of the park was covered with a couple inches of snow, the main exception being the walking paths, which had been plowed. It looked like the police had successfully evacuated the park. Good. I didn’t want any innocents involved with what was about to happen.
“So how’s this work?” I asked as we got out of the car. “Do we just hang out and wait for them to show up?”
“Not exactly,” Herb said. “I’m going to lay out some items that every draugr would’ve loved in life. Then I’ll enchant them with the same sort of magic that was on your pirate coin. The draugr will sense that and believe those items are part of their hoard.”
“So how do you know what’s important to them?” I asked. “Is there some kind of Advanced Necromancy course that you take to learn about this stuff?”
Megan’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that’d be handy. In fact, I think all Caulborn agents should have to take classes like that. Herb, is there a class like that? Could you teach it?”
Herb shook his head. “I’m not much of a teacher,” he said to Megan. To me, he said, “Think about this part of the world. It’s a melting pot. People from tons of different countries came in and set up shop in Boston. Irish, Italian, German, Vietnamese, Chinese, French Canadian, Spanish, English, you name it, and that’s not counting the multitude of Native American tribes that were here first. Each one of those peoples brought over their own unique culture and superstitions. With those superstitions came undead. I had to become an expert on all manner of folklore in order to be ready for what’s out there.”
I could respect that.
“Vincent, your job will be to keep them occupied once they’re here. Megan, I’ll need you with me, in case anything slips by Vincent.”
“Roger Wilco,” she smiled.
Herb grabbed a worn blue duffel bag out of the trunk and set it on the ground. I could barely make out a faded Adidas logo on the bag’s side. What came out of the bag definitely wasn’t what a typical athlete would carry to the gym: a battered helmet with a pair of yellowed animal horns pointing up; a short sword with a notched blade and worn leather scabbard; a mummified hawk, complete with a tiny leather hood for the bird’s head and a cuff for the falconer’s wrist; and a leather sack that jangled as if it were full of coins. Herb muttered phrases in a language I didn’t know as he placed each one on the ground. A shimmering orange aura flickered about them for a moment and then vanished. Herb’s eyes flickered along with them. He stepped back and surveyed his work. “That’s it,” he said. “Now we just need them to take the bait.”
“How long do you think before they can sense it?”
“Not long,” Megan said, pointing to a blue mist that was rising from the ground ten feet away. “Wow, Herb, you’re good.”
Herb blushed. He actually blushed. We were about to fight some serious badass undead, and he was blushing at a compliment. I shook my head. “You guys stay sharp,” I said.
Herb’s eyes glowed a brighter orange. “Wow,” he said. “Even in this mist state, they’re incredibly powerful. I’ve never seen anything like this before.” He chewed on his lip for a minute. “I’m going to have to get creative,” he said, half to himself.
“Well, whatever you’re thinking of, do it fast,” I said, trying to ignore the brand on my arm that was now burning beneath my bomber’s sleeve. The undead had formed in front of me and drawn themselves up to a height of seven feet. Had they gotten taller? Let’s start this off on the right foot, I thought, sending a telekinetic punch into both of the undead’s crotches.
They doubled over and let out low, painful groans, and I allowed myself a smile. Very few beings, undead or not, could shrug off a telekinetic nut shot. Herb was already chanting, the characters in the air appearing in translucent green this time.
I ran to the left, shooting off lances of fire at the undead. “C’mon, guys, try and keep up.” The draugr threw their heads back and their bodies grew. They’d doubled in size in less than five seconds. They charged after me, the ground quaking beneath their feet. Part of the reason we’d chosen this place for our attack was that there wasn’t anything for the draugr to throw at us.
I realized a flaw in this plan at that moment. While the park didn’t provide much in the way of things for them to throw at me, the wide-open space let the draugr take full advantage of their ability to increase in size. One of the draugr leapt at me, shot into the air, sailed over my head with plenty of room to spare, and landed in front of me. The impact of its landing was like being at the epicenter of an earthquake and knocked me to the ground. The draugr spun and kicked out a leg as thick as a tree trunk. I brought up a telekinetic shield, which dampened the impact, but didn’t stop me from being launched off the ground like a football and hurtling through the icy air.
The frozen, snow-covered ground did very little to cushion my fall. In fact, I dug a shallow trench in the snow as I skidded to a halt, snow and ice bunching up inside my coat and down the back of my pants. My landing scared a group of pigeons that had been pecking about in the snow for bread, and the birds shot up into the bare branches of a nearby tree, squawking at me. A part of me thought this might be a good time to take a rest, slow it down a bit. Instead, I groaned and hauled myself to my feet.
“Vincent, get down!” Megan hollered. I dropped back into the depression I’d just made as a park bench whistled through the air where my head had just been. I stood corrected—there wasn’t
much
for them to throw at us. Megan fired off three shots from her 9mm. I risked a quick glance over my shoulder to see one of the draugr hit the ground, its kneecap cleanly blasted off.
The other draugr leapt at me again. I telepathically compelled the pigeons to leave the tree and fly at the draugr’s face. They streaked from their branches like tiny missiles, and I was grateful that pigeons didn’t migrate south for the winter. Unfortunately, as they got closer to the draugr, I felt their sanity shatter and the psychic backlash from that was enough to stagger me. There were another three shots and the draugr buckled. I glanced over at Megan who shifted her aim and fired twice more. The draugr shimmered into mist, and the bullets whizzed harmlessly through it. My eyes were drawn back to Megan as she rolled her wrist and her gun flickered. It looked like the same gun, but I knew this was her quick reload trick: pull a second gun from her pocket dimension with a full clip and get on with life.
A glowing string of green characters nearly four feet long shimmered in the air above Herb’s head, and the necromancer was furiously adding more. His face was beet red, his eyes were screwed shut, and his voice was strained.
The mist of the nearest draugr began to coalesce. I telekinetically latched onto the metal frame of the shattered park bench and flung it at the draugr, aiming for where I expected its head to appear. Instead, the bench sailed through empty air and shattered against a large snow-covered rock. When the coalescence completed, instead of the human-shaped undead I was expecting, a giant undead bull stared at me, its eyes glowing red.
“The hell?” I heard myself ask as the undead beast charged me. The bull’s gray hide had been flayed, and I watched, frozen, in sick fascination as its dead, exposed muscles pumped as it barreled toward me. Something tackled me and the bull tore past. I could feel the vibrations of its hooves through the frozen earth, and the stench it left in its wake made me want to retch.
“Okay, that’s just gross,” Megan said as she pulled herself off me. She’d sprinted from Herb, knocked me aside and now had her pocket cannon out. She sent off a pulse of shimmering blue light that seared toward the bull, which shifted into mist before it hit. “Sugar,” Megan cursed. She took off at a full run to Herb, the second draugr having taken humanoid shape behind him. She fired off two quick blasts, the first grazing the draugr’s left arm, the second blowing the arm off at its elbow.
The draugr roared, so loud and deep that I felt it in my chest. The sound staggered Herb, who stumbled forward with his hands over his ears. The glowing green character he’d been crafting fizzled out. The string of other characters, now five feet long, became blurry as he lost focus. The one-armed draugr brought its hand down like a hammer to strike Megan, but she was suddenly on the other side of the draugr. I blinked. It was like she’d teleported.
Megan seemed just as surprised as the draugr and I were, but she recovered first, spun, and blasted the thing full on in the chest with her pocket cannon. The hole it made was the size of a pumpkin. Her blaster whined; it was out of power. I took the opportunity to telekinetically latch onto the twisted broken frame of the park bench and hurl a length of it like a spear. It streaked toward the draugr, who turned into mist. My projectile was now heading straight for Megan.
Time slowed down. I could clearly see the trajectory the metal would take. In less than a second, it would impale Megan through the chest. I couldn’t stop it. Shit shit shit.
And then, just for an instant, a figure clad completely in black appeared in front of Megan and took the bar right in the chest. Just as suddenly, the figure was gone. I gaped, and then had to push down a swell of giddy laughter. The Keepers, it seemed, were holding up their end of the bargain.
Time returned to normal speed, and my heart slid back down my throat to where it belonged. Herb, still on his knees, cried out and threw both his arms forward, the string of characters sharpening back into focus as he regained his composure. They spiraled out and sped through the air to bore into the nearest draugr-mist. The mist instantly formed into a giant undead who bellowed in what seemed both pain and surprise as the letters flashed all over its skin. Then cracks of light began to appear in its flesh. Those cracks broke open with audible snaps, accompanied by more screams, these all pain.
The draugr exploded in a cloud of blue and green mist. I threw up a shield to protect us from a shower of fleshy debris. It splattered wetly against the wall of force. Looking at the goo, I was thankful I’d gotten the shield up in time. No telling if a stain like that would come out of my bomber.
The glowing characters were barely visible in the air now, and Herb’s chanting became frantic. I realized he was trying to keep the same spell in effect instead of starting over. That took control, and my respect for the illustrious Mr. Wallenby went up another click. Meanwhile, the other mist form raced toward us. Megan and I both took protective positions in front of Herb. The mist coalesced into the form of an undead house cat, its matted fur thick with gore and blood.
Damn, these things were full of surprises. But what the hell could a tabby cat do to us?
The cat launched itself at me, and its claws dug through my bomber and into my chest. It slammed into me so hard that I fell backward and crashed on my back against the frozen pavement. The undead cat had ridden me to the ground and sat on my chest, its claws still latched into my skin. It began to purr, and I swatted at it.
It was like hitting a rock.
The cat felt like it weighed two hundred pounds and was getting heavier; I had to resort to telekinesis to keep the thing from crushing my ribcage. The cat hissed at me, its eyes narrowing into orange slits of hate, and it got heavier. I drew on all the faith I had just so I could breathe. If I didn’t do something soon, it’d squish my chest like a packet of ketchup.
Megan drew a collapsible baton from her pocket dimension and whacked the cat upside the head. The baton bounced back and Megan yelped. The cat flattened its ears at her, and then its tail lengthened and whipped out like a snake, wrapping itself around her neck. She dropped the baton and pulled at the furry cord that was crushing her windpipe.
Shit shit shit. I snapped out my switchblade and drove it into the cat, which yowled in pain but did not release me. Instead, it bit my wrist, and I reflexively let go of the knife. Then another figure in black appeared at my side and slashed the cat’s tail off with a long knife. The cat howled in pain and Megan fell backward, wheezing.
Herb’s chanting was on the edge of my awareness, the light of his spell-characters getting brighter as they became more defined. His spell was close to completion, but the drain on my power to hold the cat was too strong. I wasn’t going to be able to keep this up.
Herb let out a yell of triumph, and his spell streaked toward the draugr-cat. The spell struck home, and there was a horrific yowling as the cat exploded. Undead feline innards splattered across my face and jacket, and I rolled to all fours, spitting out some of the goo that had shot into my unfortunately open mouth. I grabbed a handful of snow and used it to give my face a frosty but necessary cleaning.
That done, I fumbled my way over to Herb, who was kneeling on the ground and gasping for breath. Megan collapsed next to him, looping an arm over his shoulder. They just looked at each other, panting. After a minute, they started laughing, which quickly turned into coughs. Megan recovered first, and began gently rubbing Herb’s back. “Breathe, Herb,” she said soothingly. “You did great, it’s all over. That’s right, breathe.” She looked up at me. “You all right?” I nodded and rubbed at my wrist and chest. My fever would close the minor wounds I’d received pretty quickly. “Vincent, what happened back there? Who were those people in black that saved me?” I was spared having to answer that question by a hacking fit from Herb. Megan rubbed the necromancer’s back more vigorously. “Vincent, there’s a bottle of water in my car. Please go get it.”