Imperium (Caulborn) (11 page)

“I don’t speak German,” I said. “So let him go, or you’ll be sorry.”

“He said to leave right now, Vinnie,” Gears gasped. His yellow eyes were wide with fear. “He says he’ll kill me.”

I raised my hands and took a step back. The gray gremlin grinned. Then I telekinetically latched onto the monitor behind the gremlin and yanked. The monitor crashed down on its skull, and it fell forward in a tangle of wires and plastic. Gears deftly untangled himself and skittered behind me. I grabbed the creature telekinetically and slammed it against the wall. It stayed pinned there, then opened its mouth in a silent shriek. Gears slammed his hands over his ears and fell to the ground.

In my surprise, I released the creature. It fell to the floor and started running. I stretched out with telekinesis, but nothing happened. My faith reserves had run dry. I heard claws skitter across the concrete floor and the door slammed open and then shut again. Then the creature was gone.

I knelt down next to Gears. “You all right, pal?”

“So loud,” Gears said. “Hypersonic, must’ve been hypersonic.” He rubbed his head and shakily got to his feet.

I picked him up and held him in the crook of my arm. He gestured to the table. I set him down and he flipped a few switches on a console. The garage’s overhead lights flickered on. Now that I had some light, I finally got a good look at the corpse. It was another of the gray gremlins, laying in a pool of silver liquid. My adrenaline rush had worn off, and I was running on about four hours’ worth of sleep, so it took me a moment to realize the silver stuff was the thing’s blood.

Gears and I spent the next half hour combing over the garage. We found that the first gray gremlin had broken in through a window, but other than that, there was nothing to tell us where Axlesnapper had gone, or why.

Gears finally slouched his shoulders in defeat and walked back to the desk. He rummaged around in it for a few minutes, and eventually pulled out a portable hard drive from one of the desk drawers. Then he went back to the table where he stared at some tubing and a small metal box about the size of a toaster.

He poked it with one of his claws, his brow furrowed in concentration. Then he looked up at me. “Can you carry this back to the office for me?” He pulled a worn canvas messenger back from another drawer. I nodded and started to put the toaster into the bag. Gears caught my wrist. “No, that’s for the body.” I put the corpse into the bag. The thing’s skin felt like rubber, and its body sagged like a rag doll. I slung the bag over my shoulder and grabbed the toaster. Gears nodded and then pressed a series of keys on a second computer. I heard a beep.

“We have two minutes to get out of here before the security system starts up again.”

“What security? I blew up the green light thingy.”

“That was level one security, Vinnie. If I hadn’t gotten up here and disabled levels two and three, you’d have found yourself fighting robots.”

I started to laugh, then realized Gears wasn’t kidding. “Jesus,” I muttered. “You gremlins don’t screw around.” Gears just nodded once, then started for the door. We got into my car and headed back to the office. I was on edge the entire way back; all I had to defend us was my switchblade, and I didn’t think that would be much use against these gray gremlins. It was the longest drive of my life.

Chapter 9

Begin Coded Transmission
Jake (note, no known last name) serves as the Caulborn’s primary security guard and assistant to field agents. He is capable in many forms of self-defense and can also provide medical support. Given that Jake rarely leaves the office, and has never been seen eating or sleeping, it is assumed that he is not human. Remote thermal scans taken of him render patterns inconsistent with any known life form, whether artificial or natural.
Based on firsthand experience, Jake has been known to shrug off bullets and stab wounds. He has also displayed an immunity to mental domination and several biochemical agents that would render a normal person unconscious or dead. It is extremely rare for him to speak; when necessary, Jake communicates with Galahad and others via sign language. Further analysis will be needed to determine Jake’s weaknesses and the most effective way to dispatch him.
-NS
End Coded Transmission

When we finally got into the office building’s foyer, I leaned against the wall and took a few slow breaths before heading inside.

Jake nodded to us as we got back into the office. I handed the toaster over to him. “Would you kindly carry this up to Gears’ workshop?” Jake nodded and took the box from me. He and Gears disappeared into one of the elevators.

I took the canvas bag and its gruesome contents into the medical wing. Mrs. Rita looked up at me as I walked in. “Early for you, isn’t it, Vincent?”

“Well, I had a gremlin give me a wake-up call about two hours ago,” I said. I hefted the bag. “He brought me to another corpse that I need you and the Doc to look at.”

Mrs. Rita capped her pen and put it in the #1 Mom mug on her desk. Framed photos lined the edge of her desk, showing her seven children and her nineteen grandchildren. Crayon drawings with “I love you, Grandma” were tacked up above the desk.

She gestured for me to follow, her bulky frame moving nimbly among the shelves of medical supplies. She picked out a handful of tools and then we entered one of the examination rooms. A long steel table stood in the center of the room. Mrs. Rita flicked a switch and a light slightly brighter than the sun snapped on over the table. I screwed my eyes shut and leaned against the wall for a moment. When I could finally see, I brought the bag over to the table. Mrs. Rita smiled at me. She pulled a hair net over her white-streaked hair, and washed her hands for two solid minutes. Then she put on a thick pair of glasses and motioned for me to get moving.

I set the bag on the table and gently stretched out the corpse. The silver blood didn’t bother her. She peered at it for a moment, then nodded. “This looks like what Joseph was analyzing when I came in today,” she said. Mrs. Rita was the only person I knew who called Doc Ryan by his first name. “Silver blood, eh?” I nodded. “Joseph said it looked like bodily fluids, but nothing natural. With the body, we can learn more.” She shut her eyes and held her hands about a foot above the corpse. She kept them outstretched like that, sliding up and down the body.

After a few moments, she frowned and lowered her hands to her sides. She made some notes on a pad of paper and mumbled something to herself. Then she took a long pair tweezers from a tray next to her and delicately probed one of the creature’s chest wounds. After a moment, she fished out a bullet and dropped it into a small cup.

She continued her probing, making notes about the creature’s other wounds. She paused on some depressions by its shoulders. After a few moments, she looked at the thing in disgust. “This creature was made by men. It was not birthed by nature.”

“You said that Keri Greene’s killer might not have been made by nature. Do you think this thing murdered her?”

“I will need to have the machine do some analysis, but I believe that is a strong possibility, yes.”

“It sort of looks like a gremlin,” I said. “Do you think it was cloned? Maybe someone captured a gremlin and is making enhanced creatures from gremlin genes?”

Mrs. Rita looked up at me, her dark eyes unreadable. She pursed her lips. “I will need to speak with Joseph about this thing, I think,” she said. “He will be here soon.”

I looked at my watch. It was just past five a.m.

She tipped her head to the side. “You look tired, Vincent. Rest a while.”

I shook my head. “I’m up. Let me get a couple of Pepsis into me and I’ll be fine.”

She shook her head. “I won’t have you children just living off of soda.” She dragged me back to her desk. There was a dorm fridge there. Mrs. Rita pulled out a single serving carton of OJ and a slice of banana bread that was neatly packed in wax paper. “You eat these, Vincent,” she said, handing me the food. “Honestly, I need to speak with Petra about how you eat when she’s not around.”

There are some people you just don’t argue with, and Mrs. Rita’s one of them. I accepted the food, thanked her, and went up to my office. I quickly ate, then closed and locked the door. I sat down on the floor, leaned my back against my desk, and opened my mind to my followers. Instantly their voices flooded into my mind. For the next thirty minutes, I answered prayers. I sighed as my faith reserves were replenished. It was good to have my powers back.

When I was done, I noticed that my voicemail light was blinking. I played the message and heard Frank Grady’s voice. “Mr. Corinthos, I ran those photos past the morticians. I’m sorry, but no one recognized anyone from them. No incidents were reported at the Hope Clinic, either.” Well, that was good, at least no one had turned up dead. I hung up the phone and rubbed my temples. I needed caffeine if I was going to make any progress on this.

I was buying a Pepsi at the vending machine when Megan rounded the corner. “Morning, Partner,” she said. I glanced at my watch. How anyone could be so perky at quarter past six in the morning was beyond me.

“Hi Meg. You always start work this early?”

She giggled. “No, but I wanted to get a jump on things and finally finish unpacking the boxes of stuff I brought from New Mexico.”

I filled her in on what Gears and I had found. She listened intently.

“Okay, Mrs. Rita said that she should have some answers this morning on those vines we brought in. Let me put my coat away and we can go talk to her.” She ducked into her office as I rubbed my eyes and tried to clear my head. I knocked back the rest of my Pepsi and together we went downstairs to Mrs. Rita.

Doc Ryan was hanging up his coat as I entered the medical wing. He nodded to us. “Ah, you’re here. Good. I left a test running against that silver substance last night. Let’s see what it’s turned up.”

“Turns out it’s blood, Doc.”

“You a doctor, now, Corinthos?” We walked into the lab where Mrs. Rita was still making notes about the gray gremlin’s corpse. The Doc’s eyes widened at the sight. “What in blue blazes is that?”

“I believe it is a new species of gremlin, Joseph,” Mrs. Rita said. “The silver liquid Vincent and Megan brought in the other day is its blood.”

The Doc’s brow furrowed into an expression of concern. “I’ll be over to help you with that in a moment, Mrs. Rita,” Doc said. “Did you speak to them about the vines yet?” Mrs. Rita shook her head and the Doc turned back to me. “All right. We ran a bunch of tests against the vines you brought in. Turns out they’re enchanted aconitum.”

“Aconitum,” I said. “Right. Now, let me think, aconitum, that’s used as a spice in certain salsas, isn’t it?” The Doc whacked me upside the head.

“It’s wolfsbane, Vincent,” Megan said. “That explains how a handful of thin men were able to bring down two very strong werewolves.” She tipped her head at the Doc. “You said they were enchanted? How so?”

“Mrs. Rita said she found traces of a powerful animation spell within the vines.”

“Golems?” I asked.

“Looks like it,” the Doc replied. “Someone built those creatures intending to use them to capture lycanthropes.” And Caulborn agents, I thought, remembering the men who had captured Mikey. A golem would’ve been able to shrug off the effects of Mikey’s defensive wards.

“So that leaves who and why,” Megan said, jotting things down on a pad.

“Who, I think I can answer,” I said. I looked at the Doc. “James Gattwood?”

The Doc nodded. “Sure looks like his handiwork.”

“What’s his story? Necromancer? Reanimator? Deranged herbologist?”

“None of the above, Meg,” I said. “James Gattwood is a merchant. A man who builds golems on commission for the wealthy supernatural in the area. His customers use them for servants, bodyguards, you name it.” I turned back to the Doc. “Thanks, Doc. I think Megan and I need to take a trip uptown.”

“Have fun, you two. Oh, and Vincent, can you pick me up a carton of cigs while you’re out?”

“You shouldn’t smoke, you know,” Megan said.

“And you should do what your elders tell you,” the Doc replied as he handed me some cash. He winked at Megan, then went back into the medical area.

“He’ll grow on you,” I said.

Megan smiled. “He reminds me of one of my uncles. I like him. So, this Gattwood person makes golems? Is it common for people around here to have one? Can they blend in with regular people? Besides kidnap werewolves, what else can they do?”

We headed for the car as I answered. “It’s not unheard of for a supernatural player to have golems, but I wouldn’t say they’re common. They’re expensive, and Gattwood’s made a small fortune over the years. He’s got a well-deserved reputation as the best golem maker on the east coast, because yes, his golems can blend in with regular people. The golems other people make look like mud or are only vaguely humanoid. Gattwood’s can pass for human even under scrutiny. As for what else they can do, well, they’re strong and durable, but it really depends on what he’s got in mind when he builds them. I suppose they can do just about anything.”

Megan peppered me with more questions as we drove, and by the time we arrived at James Gattwood’s building about an hour later, I felt like I’d just gone through the “Golemcraft” category on Jeopardy. We entered a spacious reception area, furnished in cheery colors. Magazines, and recent ones at that, were displayed neatly on tables next to the chairs, and there was a television mounted on the wall. A sign reading “Please ask receptionist for headphones” hung directly below the television. The receptionist was absent, so I walked up to her desk and rang the bell.

About ten seconds later, an extremely leggy redhead emerged from the door to my right. She was close to six feet tall, and had her scarlet hair pulled back in a braid over one shoulder. The red dress she was wearing was business-appropriate, but fitted so that it left little to the imagination.

She moved with an inhuman grace and her smile was dazzling. If she’d been in a toothpaste commercial, there would’ve been a gleaming starburst off her teeth, followed by that
ting
sound. “Good morning, sir, ma’am,” she purred. “Do you have an appointment?”