Back | Next
Contents

CHAPTER SIX


Chesa, Gregory, and I stood in the parking lot, shivering in our era-appropriate underwear, wrapped in equally medieval blankets that were about as comfortable as barbed wire, except damp and cold. Our clothes were drying over a campfire that crackled fiercely in the brisk morning breeze that blew across the asphalt. My body was coming up with new parts to go numb, and Chesa’s teeth chattered like glassware in an earthquake. Gregory suffered stoically, which somehow only made the whole experience worse. Turns out it takes quite some time for chain mail to dry. Tembo had ported back to MA to set up the magic faucet thingie and to fetch the rest of the team, while Esther argued with Tesla up in the Silverhawk over who would cover the dry cleaning.

“This is not a great start to an adventure,” Chesa muttered.

“We’re setting a baseline for misery,” I said. “No matter how bad things get from here on out, we can look back at this and think, well, at least we have dry pants.”

“Don’t tempt fate, Rast,” Gregory said.

“Just saying. It could be worse. It might be kind of cool to explore a new world. Think of it as a side quest. We’re rerolling into steampunk world.”

“I didn’t join Knight Watch to cosplay as a clock,” Gregory said stiffly.

“At least we’re getting out from under Esther’s thumb for a while,” I answered.

“Do you think this Tesla guy is any better? Seems pretty crazy,” Gregory said.

“Anyone willing to strap a generator onto his back has something wrong with his head,” Chesa said. “And the doctor? I don’t trust him.”

“Have you met our guy? I love the Saint, but man, he could outchill a yeti. When I’m bleeding out from a spear to the gut, I’d like the healer to be a little more . . . attentive.” I pulled my blanket tighter and shot a glance up at the airship. “Look, we can make the best of this, or we can complain.”

“Sorry, John,” Gregory said with a smirk. “From here on out we’ll leave the complaining to the expert.”

“Thanks. Wait, I—”

Gabbie strolled over and dropped six backpacks at our feet. They looked unnecessarily heavy. “What’s this?” I asked.

“Esther asked me to prep an Adventurer’s Kit for you guys,” she said. “And a change of clothes. I don’t think the Eccentrics are going to let you on board with your wonderoos hanging out.”

“I don’t think we’ll need kit.” I hefted one of the packs and nearly pulled my shoulder out of the socket. “What’s in there, bricks? Are we planning on rebuilding Hadrian’s Wall by hand or something?”

“That’s probably the jerky. We keep a whole stockpile of timeline-appropriate supplies in the trucks, in case we have to mobilize suddenly,” she said. “The basic package is a bedroll, fifty feet of rope, a bag of caltrops, three flasks of weapon oil, pitons, hammer, tinderbox, and enough hard rations to give you constipation for a month. You’re going to have to eat something while you’re in the Gestalt.”

“Something like croissants? Éclairs? Caviar?” Chesa asked. “You know—good stuff?”

“All of which will interfere with your mythic abilities. Esther said you’re going to be running on fumes, so timeline discipline is paramount.” Gabbie slapped the top of the pack. “That means iron rations. Jerky and biscuits, no gravy.”

“What am I going to do with pitons?” I asked.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Gabbie said. “Now get changed. Unless you want to complain to the boss?”

Esther emerged from the Silverhawk with a frustrated look on her face and a sheaf of papers tucked under her arm. She marched down the stairs and made straight for the vans. I knew better than to disturb the boss when she was on the warpath like that. Gregory, on the other hand, seemed impervious to Esther’s body language.

“My lady!” he said, stepping directly in her path. Esther skidded to a halt and stared daggers at him. “My lady Esther, we are nearly ready to depart. Would you honor us with a favor before—”

“Land of Goshen, Haute, if you don’t get out of my way I swear I’m going to fill your helm with sawdust and solder it shut!” When Gregory didn’t immediately get out of her way, she thumped him with the sheaf of papers. “I have real work to do: expense reports, bills of lading, dry cleaner estimates, even a bloody schematic of the main deck, so they can replace the furniture! This is going to put us back months on our credit cards.”

I never had been clear how Knight Watch financed itself. I suppose I always imagined musty vaults full of dwarven gold and the buried treasures of forgotten civilizations. But given the fact that the real world didn’t exactly recognize the myths for what they were, I suppose those vaults would look like a hoarder’s basement and stacks of moldering magazines. Now didn’t seem like the best time to ask. Instead, I stepped between Esther and Gregory, drawing the boss’s attention, just like a good tank.

“Couple questions about the operation,” I said. Esther’s gaze fell on me like a thunderbolt. I hurried forward before she could set in. “What happens if we get separated from the Eccentrics? I don’t want to get stranded in some abandoned amusement park somewhere, with nothing but a longsword and a story about secret dragons. Cops tend to frown at that stuff. If worse comes to worst, will we be able to reenter the Gestalt on our own?”

“No chance. The Gestalt is a freestanding delusion, typically inaccessible to members of Knight Watch. Tesla will get you inside, and you can’t leave until you solve whatever the hell is going on with their timeline. If you do drop out, somehow, you’ll have to find your way back from the Victorian era.”

“Any advice on how we do that?”

“Yeah. Don’t. Just don’t screw up and you’ll be fine,” she said. “Aren’t you supposed to be getting dressed?”

I took the escape route, dragging Gregory along with me. The provided uniforms were very basic. Gregory and I had gambesons with leather belts, leggings, and boots. For Chesa they had a simple jerkin with underdress and long boots. We didn’t have the kit necessary for hanging scabbards, quivers, and daggers.

“What about our gear?” I asked. “Sword and shield, at the very least.”

“Tesla’s provided us with a containment device for anything that’s even vaguely magical. That includes all of your weapons, the shield, Chesa’s quiver. You’ll need to stow your gear once you’re on the Silverhawk.” Esther nodded to our armor and weapons, still drying by the fire. “The Pinkertons seem reluctant to touch anything, so you’ll have to ruck the armor in yourselves.”

“I don’t love traveling unarmed or armored. Are you sure we can trust this Tesla guy?” I asked.

“I would trust him with your lives,” Esther answered, smiling tightly. “For whatever that’s worth.”

“And you’re sure there’s no way we can leave Rast behind?” Chesa asked, pulling her jerkin tight and fastening a silver belt around her waist. “Screwing up is kind of his modus operandi.”

“If it weren’t for him, we’d all be drinking warm beer in Valhalla. And not the good version of Valhalla, with the beefcakes and volleyball. I’m talking about an angry, bitter Valhalla.” Esther glanced up at the Silverhawk. A couple of the Pinkertons had followed her down and were now loading our still-drying armor, gear, and the backpacks Gabbie had provided into the isolation chest. “Much as it pains me to say, John’s shaping up into something of a hero.”

“Gosh, boss, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. I mean, it’s the only nice thing you’ve ever said, but I’ll take it.”

“Don’t get a big head, Rast. You still need to fit into that helm.”

Our conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Tembo in a flash of ochre light. Saint Matthew and Bethany followed him through the glowing portal. Matthew was already wearing the mundane version of his outfit, various shades of white stained with spilled beer and other substances. Even Bethany, typically armed to the teeth, looked fairly innocuous in leggings and silk. They both had backpacks on their shoulders, and weapons in their hands.

“What sort of nonsense have you gotten us into this time, Rast?” Bee asked as she stared up at the Silverhawk. “Something about goths wearing brown?”

“Why is everyone blaming me?” I complained. Chesa rolled her eyes, and Gregory shrugged.

“They’ll give you the full briefing on the flight,” Esther said. “Turn anything magical over to the Pinkertons for stowage. You need to go in as close to mundane as you can manage.”

“Sounds great. Just what I signed up for,” Bethany said. Tembo cleared his throat to draw our attention.

“I have done what I can with the amulets. It is not a perfect solution, but I think they will suffice.” The big mage held out his broad hand, over which were draped six amulets, dangling from silver chains. He presented them to Esther. “They are ready.”

“Excellent,” she said, setting her sheaf of papers on the damp grass before taking the pendants from Tembo. “Do you think this will work?”

“In principle, yes. In practice”—he shrugged—“I have never tried anything like this before.”

“Principle will have to do. Chesa, this is yours. And Gregory. John.” She handed me one of the amulets. A small silver shield hung on a length of sturdy silver chain. It was cold to the touch. I confirmed that each pendant matched the wearer’s role in Knight Watch: a sword for Sir Gregory, bundled arrows for Chesa. She distributed the rest of the amulets. “Wear it close to your skin.”

“What’s the principle?” I asked as I looped the chain around my neck and dropped it down the front of my shirt. As it settled over my heart, I felt a blossom of light go through my skin. “Kind of a portable door to the domain?”

“Think of it like a water tap that’s been left on a trickle,” Tembo said. “It will send a very small amount of energy into your soul. Like a cup under a leaky faucet, you will fill up eventually. But if you empty the cup, it will take quite a while to replenish your power.”

“These don’t need to be in the isolation chest?” Chesa asked.

“They don’t exude magic of any kind until you activate them,” Tembo said. “So don’t do that in-flight. No telling what might happen to the Silverhawk.

“Can we take some of that magic juice? The potion thing?” I asked. One time we had been forced to drink condensed magical energy. It was like replacing your blood with sunlight. Sounds neat, but the sunburn was unbearable.

“That stuff’s for emergencies only. Terrible for your teeth.” Esther cast a furtive glance toward the Silverhawk, then drew us closer. “Shut up for a second and listen close. There’s something I have to tell you, and I don’t want anyone in the Eccentrics to know about it. It’s a little complicated.”

“Were you and Tesla secret lovers? Are we going to have to deal with some kind of centuries-old high school drama?” Chesa asked, leaning closer. “Please say yes.”

Esther pointedly ignored the question.

“This thing you’re looking for, it isn’t a vampire. Whatever did that to Cassius, it wasn’t a vampire.” Esther hesitated.

“Because you killed them all,” I filled in. “So it must be something else. A chimera, or perhaps—”

“No, you misunderstand.” Esther clenched her jaw, refusing to look at the Silverhawk. “We . . . didn’t actually kill all the vampires.”

“What do you mean?” Gregory asked.

“Nik thinks they’re all dead, but we . . . Okay, I decided. It was an executive decision.” She squared her shoulders. “And I’ll take the credit and the blame. I decided it wasn’t right. There were a few troublemakers who had to go, but the rest are safely tucked away into the Unreal. They would never risk detection. Especially by the Eccentrics.”

“Oh, so, this is the complicated part, isn’t it?” I asked. “You need us to find out what’s doing this without letting Tesla know you lied to him.”

“And without exposing the vampires that still live in the Gestalt. If it looks like Tesla might have a lead on some of the nightbreed, you’ll have to misdirect them.” Esther wiped her forehead, leaving a long smudge of ink over her eyebrows. “Look, I know it’s a difficult ask, but you have to solve one mystery while maintaining a different mystery.”

“Wait, in the Gestalt? You said they were in the Unreal.” I looked at the rest of the team. “Am I missing something here?”

“No. Because we did exactly what Nik guessed: created a pocket of the Unreal deep in the Gestalt,” Esther said. “They’re effectively isolated from both timelines.”

“Or, and hear me out, they really are killing people again,” I said. “Those scars on Cassius looked pretty convincing to me!”

“Sir John has a compelling point, Lady MacRae,” Tembo said, leaning closer. “It sounds to me like we should start our investigation with these hidden vampires.”

“No. No chance. I made a promise.” Esther stared us down.

I sighed and relented. “Fine. We’ll run interference. But how will we know if we’re getting too close to the real deal? I’ve only been to a couple steampunk gatherings, but pale ladies in lace with bloody lips aren’t exactly going to stand out.”

“I’ll give you some contact information,” Esther said. “Only use it as a last resort, okay? We really can’t afford for the Society to find out about this.”

“Deal,” I said.

Esther produced a small leather jewelry box from under her stack of papers and handed it to me. It creaked when I opened it. Inside was a silver talisman on a bed of red velvet. The talisman looked like a leering gargoyle’s face, complete with serpentine tongue, sharp teeth, and glittering rubies for eyes. There was a silver plaque on the inside of the lid. 1066 Rue de Mort.

“Well,” I said. “That’s creepy as hell.”

“That road only exists in the Unreal,” Esther said. “That’s how we’ve kept them safe, right under Nik’s nose. No way to get there from the Gestalt unless you’re channeling Unreal energy.”

“Couldn’t just be a vacation, could it?” Chesa mumbled.

“Nothing ever is,” I said, snapping the case shut. “Don’t worry, boss. We’re on the job.”

“This is what I’m worried about,” Esther said. “Just . . . try not to screw it up too badly, will you?” She nodded at us curtly, then made for the door. “Let’s get moving. Tesla’s probably wondering what’s keeping us so long.”


Back | Next
Framed