Herb chuckled. “Irene agrees with that sentiment.”
The hall ended at a blank wall. Herb cocked his head to the side, his eyes flickering orange. He nodded then began tapping out an elaborate sequence against the wall. After a few seconds, the wall slid away, revealing another stone spiral staircase. Surprisingly, this one lacked the cobwebs we’d found the first time around. A pale blue light pulsed from somewhere below.
“What’s down there?” I asked.
Herb frowned. “Irene isn’t sure. She says she never knew of this place in life, and it’s the one place in the castle she can’t enter.” He held out his hand then rubbed his fingers together as if he were feeling the air. “Creepy. Something down there is blocking spectral and necromantic energies.” He shook himself. “But that’s not important now. Let’s get the schematic for that device and get out of here so we can find Megan.”
I took the lead, keeping one hand on the stone wall for support as we moved down the stairs. We came into an octagonal stone chamber that was fifty feet across. There were four poles, maybe eight feet high, arranged in a square in the center of the room, a constant crackling bolt of electricity connecting each one at the top. Old machinery lined the walls, covered with luminescent dials, tarnished toggle switches and feeders for punch cards and ticker tape. It was like a cross between an old-fashioned stock trader’s office and the set of
Frankenstein
.
Gears whistled through his teeth as he took in the apparatus in the center. “Hello beautiful, what are you for?”
“Gears, focus,” I said. “Find those schematics.” Gears gave a longing look at the pylons and his shoulders slumped.
He looked at me with hugely pitiful eyes. “Can we come back another time?”
“Definitely.”
“Good enough.” He bounded over to a workbench and began sifting through papers.
Herb walked around the perimeter of the electric field, his lips pursed. “I think this might be what was keeping Irene from entering the room. It feels like some kind of containment field.”
“Was Hammond afraid of ghosts?” I asked.
“No,” Gears replied, without looking up from his search. “He was very interested in ghosts, and there were rumors that he dabbled in some spectral experimentation, but nothing concrete.”
“What bothers me,” Herb said, “is that it’s still on.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
Herb waved a hand, taking in the room. “Think about it, you’ve got this massive castle and its creator has been dead for decades. We haven’t seen any other powered experiments down here other than that crab-drone-thinger. How is it this one’s still on? And more importantly,
why
is it still on?”
Herb’s line of questioning reminded me of Megan; that’s exactly how she would’ve looked at the situation. I hip-checked the self-loathing to the side and forced myself to focus on the task at hand. “Not sure, but it’s probably not good, whatever it is. Let’s just leave it alone and—”
A high-pitched whine, like an old-fashioned teakettle, burst from the electrified pylons. Then they went dark. For the span of three heartbeats, the room was pitch black and completely silent. Then arcs of electricity crackled and popped as they lanced their way back across the pylons. Purple and white after-images danced in my vision. I heard Gearstripper let out a sigh of relief.
“I think we got lucky there, Vinnie.”
“What did you do?” I asked, walking over to where he stood perched on a roll-top desk.
“There was a switch in this desk panel,” he said, gesturing to it. “I bumped it by mistake. I flipped it back right away, so I’m not sure why it didn’t just turn back on.” He looked at me and shrugged.
I looked over at Herb. The necromancer had his palms out, eyes closed. “You getting anything?”
Herb shook his head. “While the device was off, there was something, but it wasn’t a spirit. I didn’t have enough time to figure out what it was.”
I waited to a count of ten. When nothing tried to eat us, I let out a relaxed breath. “All right, it’s probably not important.”
Chapter 10
Brothers, tonight the Black Flash was released from its prison within the depths of Hammond Castle, as was foretold. Be vigilant. The events related to this prophecy must come to bear in the coming months.
—Missive from Stranger Wolfram to the Stranger community at large
“Oh, oh, I think this is it, Vinnie,” Gears called. He held a partially unrolled blueprint down against the desk with one hand. “Help me with this, will you?” Herb and I moved over to the desk, unrolled the paper, and held it steady while Gears scurried around it, tracing the blueprint’s design with his finger. “Yes, this is it.” I felt a wave of relief roll over me. Hang on Megan, we’re coming for you.
“Do you need anything else from here?” Herb asked. Gears consulted the schematics for another few moments before shaking his head. “Good, let’s get out of here.”
We left the pylon room and headed up the stairs. We picked up the kobolds, grabbed the skull, and the lot of us traveled back to the car. It was a good thing Herb drove a station wagon; otherwise there was no way we all would’ve fit. As it was, Herb and I were up front, and Gears and the kobolds were all huddled down in the back seat and hatchback area, hiding beneath the blankets Herb kept in the car.
We’d driven for a few minutes when Herb cleared his throat. “So,” he said. “The little guy back there called you ‘god of the Urisk.’”
“So he did.”
Herb kept his eyes straight ahead, focused on the road. “You’re a god,” he said flatly.
“Yes.”
“So can you explain to me why you haven’t just brought Megan back? Why all this stupid side-quest crap?” His tone was level, but I saw he was talking through clenched teeth.
I tried to put myself in his place. His girlfriend had gone missing, and he’d just learned her partner was a deity. All right, I suppose I could understand where he was coming from.
“It’s not like that, Herb. I’m not even worshipped in this dimension. In fact, my powers are much weaker here in Boston because I’m so far removed from my followers. I can do anything they can do, know anything they know, but I’m not omniscient or omnipotent.”
“So those tricks you were doing, with the fire and the force and the mouse, those are all things your followers can do?”
I hadn’t realized he’d seen me do some of those things. “That’s right.”
“Can you create things? Alter the universe like the gods do in myths?”
“To a point, yes.”
He turned to me, his face illuminated only by the Taurus’s green dashboard lights. His expression was a strange combination of bewilderment and frustration. “Then why not just imbue your followers with the ability to blink Megan back to where she belongs? Once they could do it, you could do it, right?”
“Jesus, Herb, keep your eyes on the road,” I said gesturing at the windshield. He obliged, but kept stealing sideways glances at me. “It’s not that easy,” I said after a moment. “The Urisk developed their powers gradually over time as part of natural evolution. Suddenly imbuing them with new abilities just for the hell of it would be a major shock to their collective systems and may do massive damage. It might even rattle their faith in me to the point where they stopped worshipping me, and then I’d really be S.O.L.”
Commander Courageous and I had discussed this at great length shortly after the Urisk began worshipping me. Suddenly having psychic powers had been exciting, and I’d asked him if I could imbue the Urisk with super strength or make their skin denser at the molecular level. I imagined myself bench-pressing cars and bullets bouncing harmlessly off me, both of which would be extremely handy in my line of work. Courageous had given me the same spiel I’d just given Herb.
The necromancer appeared to be mulling this over, so I took advantage of the moment to make contact with the Urisk. I opened my mind and listened to their prayers for a time, granting what peace and comfort I could. My faith reserves refilled a bit more with each answered prayer, and pretty soon I had a chunk of my power back. It’d be a bad idea to go toe-to-toe with another army of redcaps tonight, but I wouldn’t be a complete slouch, either.
That done, I needed some answers to what I’d briefly Glimpsed earlier. “You handle a shotgun pretty well,” I said to Herb.
He nodded. “My grandfather taught me. Said it was an important skill to have.”
“Was he a hunter?”
“Of sorts.” Herb shifted uncomfortably in the driver’s seat. “He used to hunt undead. My family, well, some of us have necromantic powers, it’s a bloodline thing. My grandfather’s magic was the strongest out there, but he rarely used it. Said it was unnatural. Instead, he used to go around and clean up anytime someone in the family did something that got out of control. He said a shotgun was—”
My Glimpse kicked on.
“A shotgun is the Lord’s preferred method for killing undead, son,” the weathered old man said as he handed a pump shotgun to the young Herb. The two stood in the living room of a log cabin; a fire burned merrily in the hearth and a woven rug was spread in front of it.
“But our magic,” Herb began.
“Is an evil temptation,” the old man snapped. “You came to me tonight for help, and this is the help I’m giving. I’m too damned old to keep running around fixing the shit that your daddy and your uncles cause, or the shit that my own damned brothers stir up.” He gestured with his thumb at his chest. “Vernon Wallenby is retired. But this, young Herbert, is your chance to show what sort of man you are. What sort of man you will be. Will you stand by while necromantic magic is used for evil? Will you stop it? Or will you use your black gifts for dark purposes of your own?”
“Granddad,” Herb’s voice cracked. “Dad’s become a lich. He brought Mom back from the dead, too. Granddad, I spied on them last night, she was crying because she wants to go back to Heaven and Dad won’t let her.”
The old man’s leathery face fell as he sagged into a well-loved leather recliner and ran his hands through his thin white hair. “God damn that boy. Your father was one of the smartest men I ever knew. I just wish the Lord had given him common sense to match.” He rubbed his face, the
scritching
sound of his leathery skin brushing against his whiskers audible above the crackling of the fire. Vernon Wallenby and his grandson stared into the fire for a few moments in silence.
Finally, Vernon nodded to the shotgun he’d handed Herb. “The Lord’s preferred method to killing undead may be able to send your mother back to her rest, but it won’t be enough to stop your father.” He stood and tucked his worn flannel shirt into his jeans. “I’ll have to help you, and unfortunately, it means I’ll have to use my own cursed gift.” The pure disgust on his face spoke volumes of what he thought of the Wallenby necromantic abilities.
“What will you do?” Herb asked.
“I’ll use my magic to locate your father’s phylactery. Once we know where that is, I’ll negate the spells that will undoubtedly be protecting it. Then you’ll have to blast it.”
My Glimpse shifted ahead, fast-forwarding to them moving to either side of a wooden door. Vernon nodded at his grandson, and Herb swung the door open. The room he faced into was lined with bookshelves and alchemical supplies. Two animated corpses stood in the room, one male, the other female. The male was in an advanced state of undeath; he was little more than a skeleton wearing fancy purple robes, but his eyes glowed with a reddish-purple light. The woman looked normal, save for her glowing red eyes. Her hair was neatly braided, her business casual clothes were clean, and for all intents and purposes, she looked rather matronly. She also looked sad.
“Please, Albert, let me go back.”
“Noreen,” the skeletal figure replied, “you are to be by my side always and forever. I will not lose you again.”
“But it was so peaceful. I—”
“Enough.” The skeletal figure, a lich, I realized, snapped his fingers and Noreen’s mouth snapped shut. Herb’s face reddened and he brought the shotgun up to his shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” he whispered, tears running down his cheeks. “I love you.” He pulled the trigger and the shotgun roared. The red light vanished from Noreen Wallenby’s eyes as the shells ripped her torso apart.
The lich let out an inhuman shriek of rage. “You little bastard! I will flay you alive for this!” But before the lich could do anything, Vernon stepped into the room and flung out one gnarled hand. Black lightning erupted from his fingers, forked around the lich, and drilled into the bookshelf behind him. The entire shelf exploded in a burst of splinters and torn pages, and when it cleared a moment later, only a single book was left on the shelf unharmed.
“That’s the phylactery, boy!” Vernon called. “Do it!” The lich shouted and rushed forward, but Vernon’s black lightning struck him in the chest and sent him sprawling. Herb was openly weeping, pumping the shotgun between sobs. Tears streamed down his pudgy face as he shakily brought the shotgun to bear on the phylactery. He took aim, squeezed the trigger, and the shotgun roared. The book exploded. The lich dropped mid-step and collapsed at Herb’s feet.
The shotgun dropped from Herb’s hands, and he fell to his hands and knees, hands pressed against his face. Tears leaked out from between his fingers.
Vernon knelt down next to his grandson and put a hand on his shoulder. “Easy, boy. Easy. You did good.”
“I shot Mom and Dad,” Herb whispered.
“No, son,” Vernon replied. “Your mom died a long time ago. That wasn’t her. And as for your father, the good man he was died whenever he decided to become that thing. You didn’t do anything wrong tonight, Herbert. You put something right. You sent your mom back to her rest, and your dad’s gone on with her. You’re a brave man. Braver than most. Hell, I don’t know as I’d have been able to do what you just did.” Herb rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand and looked at Vernon, who nodded. “I’m proud of you, son.” Vernon got to his feet, his knees and back popping as he did so. “Now come on, let’s head home.”
My Glimpse kicked off. Holy shit, Herb’s dad had become a lich? My experiences with those were limited to when Gearstripper and I had played Dungeons & Dragons, but my understanding was a lich was a badass undead who stored his soul in a special container called a phylactery. So long as the phylactery remained intact, a lich could regenerate over and over again, essentially becoming immortal. When Herb had destroyed the phylactery, he’d destroyed his father’s soul.