Accession of the Stone Born: The Vigiles Urbani Chronicles (15 page)

With that I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed my uncle. I let him know what happened and that I was taking Heather’s car to the hospital to check on her. I left out the fact that I’d been injured and told him to stay put. I didn’t want him out in this mess until I could figure out what was going on.

Ten minutes later I was at the hospital. I took a minute to duck into the nearest bathroom and pulled up my shirt. To my surprise the six-inch gash had closed on its own. It was still sore and it was downright painful if I touched it, but it was closed. Pulling my shirt down, I kept my jacket on while I sat in the waiting room.

Two hours later Kim came out to speak with me. I noticed that she had changed out of her dress and was wearing surgical scrubs. She looked tired but steady, flashing me a quick smile in an effort to put me at ease. “It appears she’s going to be all right, thanks to you.” Craning her neck, she looked at my chest. “Did you get that looked at?”

Mustering up my most reassuring voice, I gingerly got to my feet. “Yeah, all put back together. Everything will be fine.”

Kim was clearly distracted by her daughter and patted me on the shoulder. “Good to hear. I’ll let her know that you were here.”

I fished Heather’s keys out of my pocket and handed them to Kim. “I parked it in the garage on level 3.”

Kim dropped the keys into her shirt pocket and nodded. “Thanks.”

She waved before turning and heading back through the ER doors, disappearing from sight. I headed out through the lobby for home.

Chapter 9

Monday June 1st

The cool night air traveled all around me on a gentle zephyr from the north. The walk back to Andrew’s place wasn’t a long one, but it gave me plenty of time to think. The last few days had been eventful to say the least, and I did my best thinking when I put one foot in front of the other. That’s why I’d left Heather’s car with Kimberly.

It was nearly 3:00 a.m. when I turned onto my uncle’s block. My senses were dialed to eleven, and I felt rather than saw someone standing in the shadow of the hedge at the far corner.

Keeping my pace slow and steady, I approached the gate leading into the front yard. About ten yards out I came to a stop and gave a small wave. After that I waited for my newest “friend” to show themselves. “You might as well step out, so we can have a proper conversation.”

I heard the rubber soles scrape against the cement just before the man shuffled out of the darkness into the light of a nearby streetlamp. He was short, thick, and shapeless. His blond curly hair was matted to his head, and the freckles on his face and neck obscured the details of his muted, soft rounded fatty features. His stumpy arms hung out to his sides oddly while he leaned heavily on a thick black wooden cane. From the looks of his swollen legs, diabetes had taken hold long ago and the cane was necessary to get around.

He wiped the sweat off his forehead with one pudgy hand. Every word he spoke was between deep, wheezing whistles. His voice was thick and gooey, as if the fat had somehow oozed into his vocal cords. The deep French/ Canadian accent didn’t help. “I’ve been sent to speak with you.”

It was clear from his tone that he disapproved of being tasked with such a menial job. His bright green eyes looked at me with a haughtiness, if not downright disgust, at being forced to speak with someone he deemed unworthy.

Allowing my senses to expand, I took in everything, waiting for whatever was coming next. “And you are?” I asked.

The fat man huffed as if I’d just insulted him. “Who I am is of little importance. What I’m here to offer, however....”

A strange coalescing of shadows swirled at the tip of his black cane.

I took a deep breath, allowing my body to relax yet remain agile enough to move when the time called for it. “I’m listening.”

Slowly I moved a few steps closer. It was clear he either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

His lips stretched, forcing a smile, showing his mismatched uneven teeth. “My employer would like to double whatever offer Mr. Randall has on the table, for you to simply walk away.”

This was interesting. Whoever was behind all this had no idea of who I was, and I wasn’t about to inform them. “Really?”

The man was all too eager to mistake my question for agreement. His agitated movement caused his big jowls to slap against his formless neck. “Name a price, any price, and you can simply be on your way before you get any further into something you can’t get out of.”

The shadows at the tip of his cane swirled now and were about the size of a softball. “Out of curiosity, what has Mr. Randall gotten me into?”

Sweat ran down his face in rivulets. He shivered and shook so much that he splashed the salty fluids all around his bulbous form. He sneered in my direction and spewed spittle when he spoke. “Your kind couldn’t possibly understand!” He steadied himself as he ran a hand down his heaving chest and his rounded belly. “How much for you to walk away?” He paused for dramatic effect to frighten me. “While you still can.”

Something in the back of my brain started to itch as he stared at me. I didn’t like it. He was maybe twenty feet away as I calmly took another step towards him, pretending to contemplate the offer. “How much would it be worth to you to have me gone?”

That was obviously the final straw. I’d crossed some unseen line by asking the question. He heaved himself back on his heels, lifting the cane off the ground a fraction of an inch before slamming it down. “You’re nothing but a goddamn monkey, and you dare negotiate with me?”

The spinning ball of shadows flew up from the ground, expanding and exploding against my chest. I rocked back on my heels and my vision was obscured for several seconds as the ball of darkness enveloped me completely. Thousands of tiny black things slithered across my body, searching for a way in. I felt their malevolence coating me in an ichor. Then I felt their fear and trepidation as they grew weak and began to fail. They died by the hundreds, vanishing in puffs of smoke until I stood alone on the street facing my attacker.

I could hear his labored breathing as he sweated and swayed so hard he could barely stand. His eyes bulged out when he saw me standing there unscathed. He was so winded that he was unable to cry out when I sprinted forward, slamming my open hand around his throat and lifting him off the ground. So weak he couldn’t maintain the grip on the cane, it clattered uselessly to the ground. Pulling him in close, I whispered in his ear. “You have no idea who I am! If you can put one foot in front of the other to leave this place, you might just live.”

With all my strength I shoved him away from me, allowing my grip on his throat to loosen. He flew several yards before skidding across the sidewalk and out into the street. Stooping over, I swept up his cane into the palm of my hand and stood there. He struggled to get on his feet before turning tail and heading away at his fastest waddle.

It was then that the realization of throwing a rotund man several yards registered. I was a big guy, but I was not Superman by any stretch of the imagination. I waited to ensure that the fat man was gone before unlocking the gate and letting myself in. I paused at the bottom of the stairs and dialed my uncle, letting him know that I was coming in. Last thing I wanted to do was hurt him or Isidore if they were surprised by my arrival.

Pushing the upstairs door open, I found Andrew and Isidore seated in the wing chairs at the far end of the room. Andrew focused on me, and concern crossed his face. “What’s that?”

I’d forgotten about the cane and I held it up to get a good look at it. It was covered in strange markings, and it vibrated ever so slightly in my hand. “Huh.” I felt my face contort…something deep inside me really hated this thing. “Some asshole stopped me outside and wanted to pay me off.”

The thought of someone trying to buy my loyalty pissed me off more than I could say. Flipping one end into the palm of my other hand, I slammed the cane down and raised my knee, snapping it in twain. A brilliant red light filled the room, followed by a powerful shock wave that threw me through the door, splintering it before depositing me on the landing with enough force to crack the floorboards.

Forcing myself up with a groan, I got to my feet while trying to dust off the broken door. “That was dramatic.”

Andrew got to his feet, helping Isidore up before they turned their attention to me.

Isidore’s features were clouded with rage and anger, shifting his gaze around the room. “What the hell was that?” He kept a wary eye on me, yet gave me plenty of room. Even from my position I could sense his fear.

Andrew focused on the broken cane. Crossing the room, he snatched the two halves off the floor and carefully inspected the shattered pieces. “Someone just let you take this from them?”

From his tone he was obviously skeptical. I suddenly felt like a kid who’d broken their mother's favorite piece of china. “Not exactly.”

Andrew held his ground, glaring at me. “Then what? Exactly!”

My face burned crimson and my chest clenched. “Some fat guy stopped me outside the gate and offered to buy me off. I somehow insulted him, and he hit me with a swirling black orb that creeped me out. It was like thousands of tiny snakes trying to burrow through my skin.” Hanging my head, I mumbled. “After that I may have gotten pissed.” Seeing the look on his face, I held out my hand reassuringly. “I didn’t kill the bastard…I did toss him down the street with enough force to make him skip down the sidewalk, but I didn’t kill him.”

Andrew appeared to be relieved. “I don’t need to call for a cleanup crew then?”

I slapped my hand against my pants, trying to remove the dust. “No.” Then it struck me. “Why would you have access to a cleanup crew?”

Andrew waved a dismissive hand in my direction. “Don’t worry yourself with that. Tell me more about this shadow ‘thing.’”

I described it to him, from the swirling mass at the tip of the fat man’s cane to the thousands of tiny tendrils that tried to burrow through my skin. Finally, I bowed my head, then looked up and found Isidore staring at me with his mouth slightly agape. Then I flicked over to Andrew, who wore the same shocked yet rapt expression, his attention locked onto my every word.

“I’m not sure what it was, but I didn’t care for it in the slightest.”

Andrew slowly shook his head and closed his mouth. “I guess not.”

Isidore’s nostrils flared as he caught a scent in the air. “You’ve been hurt.”

That was just plain creepy! I waved a dismissive hand in his direction. “I was cut earlier, but it’s pretty much healed at this point.” The fact I hadn’t needed stitches was a fantastic bit of luck. “The cut has nothing to do with the fat man’s rant.”

Andrew stalked around me, appraising me as if I were a prime cut of meat. “Please take off your shirt.”

My embarrassment grew but I did as I was asked. “I don’t see the problem.” Again Andrew and Isidore circled me, making me feel like a prize calf up for auction. “Would you two care to tell me what you are looking for? Maybe I can help you find it.”

Isidore pointed. “I thought you said you were cut.”

Confused, I could only assume they’d missed basic anatomy in school. “As I said, it healed up.” Then I looked down and saw a fine white scar just above the blood soaked skin. “It wasn’t like that earlier.”

Andrew stepped closer, poking at the white line on my ribs. “I see plenty of blood and a thin white line, but no cut.”

Looking down again I felt heat rush to my cheeks. “As I said, it wasn’t like this earlier. When I checked it at the hospital it was scabbed over but not healed.”

Andrew ran a finger along the scar, furrowing his forehead. “Now that’s interesting.”

His finger sent a charge through me as he brushed against the new skin.

“What’s that?” I asked.

Andrew stood upright as he looked back at Isidore, who came close yet did not touch me to appraise the wound. “You were cut? By what exactly?”

“A long silver dagger.” With a quick thought, I handed the bloody shirt to Andrew. “This is one of George’s creations.” I allowed that to sink in before continuing. “Our assassin wanted Heather, but I’d moved her far enough away that I took the first hit.” The memory of the man kneeling in prayer to the uncaring god sent a chill up my spine. “He was fast though. I was able to dispatch him with little trouble, but he’d already landed what could be a devastating wound to Heather.”

Andrew looked concerned. “Did you get an update on her condition?”

The night’s events, blood loss included, were starting to take their toll, and weariness sat in. “Her mother said things were looking promising. Fact of the matter is she received a gut wound, so it could really go one way or another. Kim seemed confident that they’d been able to stabilize the situation.”

Andrew barely registered the words. He and Isidore continued to circle me like I was some sort of specter. Andrew put his fingers against my neck and felt my pulse. “And you’re sure you feel all right?”

Anger welled up inside me. The adrenaline was quickly wearing off and I needed rest. “I’m fine! Why do you two keep looking at me as if I’m patient zero in the impending apocalypse?”

Andrew stood upright, ripping his eyes off my wound. “Because you should be dead.”

That made me laugh as I gestured at my healed chest. “It was merely a flesh wound.”

Andrew threw up his hands impatiently. “Not the cut,” he seethed. “The ‘labebantur mors serpentium,’ or sphere of shadows.”

The reverent way he said the words left me feeling even more lost. “I don’t understand! That didn’t do anything more than piss me off.”

Frustrated and clearly at a loss for what to do next, Isidore flopped onto the couch, and a memory seemed to overtake him. “I saw someone use that incantation maybe thirty years ago. The man was ripped apart from the inside out. His family spent the next week cleaning up the blood and chunky bits out of their yard.”

Andrew paled at the shared memory. “I remember.”

Pulling the jacket over me, I rolled my shoulders in a sheepish fashion. “What are you talking about?” Suddenly my head hurt and I held out my hand in defiance. “You know what, never fucking mind. I need a shower and a change of clothes. After that we can talk.”

Twenty minutes later I was dressed and back in the living room. I found Andrew and Isidore at the desk, going over the broken pieces of the cane with a magnifying glass.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

Andrew looked up and handed the magnifying glass to Isidore, who kept looking at the cane. “We’re looking over the souvenir that nearly killed us.”

Furrowing my brow, I thought they were being funny at my expense. “That’s even more dramatic than the cane blowing up in the first place.”