Leviathan (Fist of Light Series) Read online

  Jas swung his legs over the bed and stared down at his naked feet. “Lucky me. Well then, you just going to sit there and watch a man dress? Wait for me outside, I'll be there in a minute.”

  “So, Hercules. Do you have a name that isn't going to have every person who passes us think we're crazies on a mission to save the world from evil kittens?”

  “Hector.” His brows furrowed.

  “Hector...?” Jas threw his arms out questioningly.

  “Just Hector.” His eyes narrowed at the question.

  “All right, sure. Herk it is, then,” Jas draped his arm comradely over his shoulder and suppressed a chuckle masterfully. “What say we go and figure out what these guys know about my dad's whereabouts. That is, if you're still planning on tagging along...” He drew out the statement long enough that it turned into a query.

  Hector focused his attention on me. “Achieving my desires and acquiring glory should be easy if I follow you.”

  “That's pretty much guaranteed,” Jas said. “Darkness follows this one relentlessly.” He pointed a thumb towards me.

  “Hey! That can't be proved. It could just as easily be following you,” I said.

  “Not likely.” Kathryne glanced down at my hand, where the sigil of the Aevum was burned into it.

  She then proceeded to look me up and down, observing the array of slashes, gashes and bruises that had been accumulated in the arena. I turned away from that piercing stare and took the loss at face value. There's no argument with a woman that you'll ever truly win. We continued down the hall in silence from there, putting on more serious airs. Guards were stationed periodically at doors, their threatening expressions displayed prominently. They were so uniform that I began to wonder if they practiced it in the mirror together.

  “You know where we're going? I'll admit that I didn't absorb much of my surroundings last night.”

  “That's because you were half asleep and we had to carry you to your room.” Kathryne rolled her eyes.

  “The design of this place is meant to throw off invaders, confusing and splitting their forces,” Hector said, coming in for the save. “It makes defending against superior numbers more doable, otherwise an inferior force would be wiped out.”

  “Exactly, what he said.” I pointed to Hector. “It's only natural to be confused, especially when confronted with an extreme level of fatigue from my exertions. Give me a break here.”

  “Herk here managed to figure all that out, and he was just as dead tired as you,” Jas said.

  “You're not helping.” I glared daggers at him.

  “And here we are.” Jas clapped his hands together as we approached a set of guards, who were stationed outside an ominous looking door.

  A high-tech security panel blinked rhythmically beside one of the guards, who punched in a code at our appearance, allowing us entry without challenge. Obviously, we didn't need identification, our reputation preceded us. Strolling confidently through the doors, I couldn't help but salute the guards as we walked by. Not one of them moved as we walked in and beheld an interesting sight. The entire room was a buzzing den, jam-packed with touch displays and TV screens. There was a glass operations table in the middle that would sit at least twenty. I kept looking around expecting some holograms to pop up and start talking. Mr. Sanders was currently bent over some paperwork sprawled across the indicated table, so absorbed that he only looked up when we were within feet of him.

  “What is that?” I asked, curious, craning my neck to get a better look.

  “Highly classified information that is expected to be kept that way,” he said before exhaling. “But you will need to be briefed. We are shorthanded as it is, with last night’s assault. You four are the most effective assets at my disposal.”

  I held up my hands up to halt the conversation, backing up a step. “Woah, slow down there buddy. Who do you think we are, your lapdogs, just because we brushed by in the halls back in the day?”

  “I provided Jas with help in this fool’s errand of his and compiled this information on your behalf. Now you are merely working in the direction of your choosing, which happens to coincide with this facility’s desires.”

  “There you go again, twisting words to suit your needs. I pegged you for a straightforward man once, Mr. Sanders. Is that even your real name? Taking down those games has been on the top of your to-do list for ages, hasn't it? And now, what, you're pointing us in the direction of the next operation you'd like toppled?” The questions flowed out of me without pause, and I found myself in the need of a seat.

  “He always did have a vocabulary far exceeding your average P.E. teacher,” Jas occupied a chair next to mine, making a show of looking over the blueprints but looking tired, pale. “But Caleb is right. Before you fill us in, you have some explaining of your own to do. What is this place?”

  “California P.D., of course,” Sanders stated with a straight face, avoiding the question neatly.

  “Seriously, what the hell is it?” I ran out of patience.

  “He just told you.” Kathryne hid a smile. “This is the California Paranormal Division?”

  “Bravo. Spot on.” He inclined his head to the lady. “This is a secret government division known simply as California P.D. to anyone not knowledgeable of its inner workings. Quite a good use of an acronym, which keeps a lid on our operations to vanilla mortals.”

  “Aren't you all human?” Jas wiped some sweat off his forehead and I frowned. It wasn't like the walk over here would have been considered strenuous exercise.

  “Not all of us,” he shrugged. “But most. Some here possess magical ability, but our firepower makes up for our humanity. Most of the supernatural bleed the same as us humans. Many of our informants and connections are affiliated with the supernatural community and we receive support from them every so often.”

  “Take it by force is more like it.” My mood had soured towards the man who had first stepped in and congratulated me on beating a portion of Adams High’s student body to a bloody pulp.

  He spread his hands, appealing to our better nature. “We do what must be done, where others would ignore a persistent problem. I help keep the balance, a mere righting of the scales so that this world remains removed from the supernatural. We would have only chaos if the masses became aware of the less than natural world living alongside them.”

  I leaned back in the chair. “Where were you on the Day of Darkness when everything went to hell? Could've used your help then, but your little task force was nowhere to be found.”

  Sanders pushed papers restlessly across the table, rearranging them unnecessarily. “Yes, well, we were otherwise occupied at the time. Regardless, we haven't the numbers or the funds to take on such a force head on. Many times, our job is to clean up the aftermath, rather than prevent disaster from striking. We get involved directly in only the most dire circumstances.”

  “Great. So the government gets proxies to do the dirty work, so it doesn't have to sully its pristine image. What do you have for us, then? A suicide run of your choosing, so that you can get rid of two problems in one fell swoop?”

  “We eliminate threats to the safety of the nation, not allies of value,” Sanders replied while drawing our attention to the blueprints on the glass.

  “That's comforting,” I scoffed.

  “Are these blueprints to an underground tunnel system?” Kathryne leaned over my chair to get a better look, and I gulped.

  Mr. Sanders assumed the mantle of Headmaster. “More like an underground city. What we have here is only the tip of the iceberg, provided by the corporation in question. We have reason to believe that P.A.N. Universal Holding Co. is a front for an extensive supernatural community.”

  “What kind of community?” Hector finally revealed his curiosity.

  “P.A.N. Universal. Never heard of it.” Jas peered at the plans.

  “That's the way they like it. The Blood Pantheon enjoys the comfort of shadow.” Sanders curled his lip in disgust. “P.A.N.
is a parent company that has interests in mining, the funeral home industry, as well as the transportation and distribution of goods across the nation. Their annual gross nears a billion dollars and its influence ranges across the globe.”

  “And what are they, exactly?” I tapped my fingers on the glass, looking anywhere except at Kathryne.

  “They are vampires— an extensive brood that has been all but impossible to affect. Their numbers are great and their reach even more pronounced. They have managed to infiltrate the very center of our nation, all the way to the White House. I wouldn't doubt that they have designs to gather even more support. The Royals have been known to ruthlessly use their lower-tier pawns in schemes to amass more power. From the note left by Noah, we have reason to believe that he intends to take revenge on their hierarchy for the death of his wife.”

  “Noah's going after these guys?” I looked to Jas for confirmation, who nodded. “Why would they kill Jas' mom?”

  “Celeste had many enemies. That question is better answered by a Royal better informed about the operation,” Sanders suggested.

  “You knew her?” Jas leaned forward in his chair.

  “I did,” Sanders said. “She was a wonderful woman, your mother. I was astonished to hear news of her death and did my best to help your father track down her assassins. But we found nothing, despite all our best efforts. Until now, that is. That he was able to ascertain the source of the murder is astounding in itself. That he has stayed faithful to her memory all this time—”

  “My dad loved my mother. More than anything.” Jas' anger flooded through him and became an almost corporeal thing.

  “Of course he did.” Sanders raised his hands in surrender. “I didn't mean to imply anything. Now,” Sanders fiddled with his collar nervously, “Let us take a look at these plans.”

  Jas was fuming with rage, and for a moment I thought he might tear Mr. Sanders’ throat out, something that would surely cause problems for us. Then, like a tea kettle reaching its boiling point and being taken off the stove, the fumes finally escaped his trembling form and dissipated. His skin broke into a cold, clammy sweat at the effort expended in keeping himself from starting anything, and I quietly assessed him, perplexed.

  Mr. Sanders butted in rudely on my examination, pointing to the map. “Ah, here we are. Yes, right here.” He indicated an excavated tunnel that was nearest the surface. “This is the most obvious entry, but would probably get everyone killed, if confronting such an assemblage of vampires isn't a death sentence in itself.” The Headmaster seemed to realize what exactly he had just implied about Noah’s fate, and looked warily over to Jas, but he wasn't paying much attention.

  Kathryne had seen enough. “There would likely be concealed exits that aren't on the map you've been supplied with. Although constantly feuding, the Blood Pantheon wouldn't be foolish enough to provide their most prized lair on a silver platter to anyone with enough connections to get a set of their plans.”

  “So this map is useless,” Hector stated.

  “Not completely.” I pointed out some blocky letters in the top right corner of the blueprints.

  “Kalispell, Montana,” Jas read aloud. “Sounds ominous.” He wiped the sweat from his face and shook himself thoroughly.

  I pointed out the lettering below that. “Looks like it’s located outside the town, somewhere in the Flathead National Forest. I didn't know you could mine in those kinds of places.”

  “You can't,” Mr. Sanders said, replacing his Headmaster role for a more friendly teacher role. “But these vampires hold major sway over the government. Acting directly against them has always ended in failure, including in the political arena.”

  “Too soon?” Jas glanced over at me, cracking a grin.

  “Shut up,” I replied, returning the grin with feeling.

  “The nature of this... mission, as you would call it, is it not a suicide run?” Hector brought us back to task, not even deigning to acknowledge the parallel.

  “Truthfully? I'm not sure,” Mr. Sanders said. “But you are uniquely qualified, considering your abilities. Your best chance is to strike at the Royals. Their clutch will go berserk at the release from their masters’ command.”

  “You've got to be kidding me.” I buried my face in my hands. “Let's get this straight here, sir.” An added inflection was spun on the word, making it almost a derogatory slur. “We're doing this for Noah, not you. Now, at the very least, can you give us a lift? We need to make it ahead of his dad, not too late to make any difference.”

  “How do you know he hasn't already made it? He could be dead by now,” Hector said.

  The entire posse directed heated glares at him. “Dad isn't dead,” Jas said.

  “All right,” he shrugged. “We'll need something that can land in the middle of a dense forest, though, that has redwoods stretching hundreds of feet into the air. What kind of plane can do that?”

  “We don't need to land,” I pointed out, a smile spreading across my face. “Anyone up for a crash course in skydiving?”

  — Chapter 9 —

  Mr. Sanders had arranged for transportation but had guaranteed nothing for the return trip. After we touched down, or more than likely got caught hundreds of feet up in a redwood, no one was going to come to our rescue. The aircraft was a hulking beast, capable of carrying massive loads. The pilots had already gotten the plane pulled out before we arrived at the army base. Barbwire was in great evidence all around the compound, which was augmented by guard towers equipped with spotlights that would pan over the surrounding landscape around the clock during nighttime. Hangers housed who-knows what other kinds of high-tech government equipment, but I doubted they would have given us the grand tour even if we had asked pretty please. The runway was lit periodically with blinking, colored lights, giving pilots clear indicators to stay between during takeoff and landing. The car pulled up a stop adjacent to the massive plane, juxtaposing the SUV against one of the propellers, which was almost equal in size.

  “I assume you don't participate in these things?” I asked, making the sarcasm obvious.

  “No,” Sanders laughed, painting himself almost human. “I'm much too old for field work. These days, I push papers around until a case of this nature makes it to my desk.”

  “Well then, we have a plane to catch.” Jas motioned at the waiting airplane. “Thanks for the help, Mr. Sanders. We'll be in touch, I guess.”

  “Oh, I almost forgot. Here.” He handed me a card, blank except for his name and a telephone number. “And don't forget this.” He passed the sports bag along to Kathryne, who took it gracefully.

  “What is it?” I asked before stuffing the card in my jeans front pocket.

  “Just a goodies bag. Something that might make a difference if you use it properly. Be careful and good luck.”

  Sanders conferred briefly with the pilots before saying his goodbyes and disappearing into the distance. We walked up the loading bay in the dead of night and buckled into some jump seats, unsure of what might be waiting for us at our destination. Jas was worried, that much was certain, but then, I was too. Noah had become more than just a surrogate father for me. He was the real deal. Never pushing, he provided the basic necessities that I now took for granted. Rather than try to take advantage of my abilities, he took me under his wing. The Clan had something to say about that, but Noah held enough sway that they weren't able to make a move without starting a civil war. Over the past months, the relations with the Clan had been rocky. And despite all that Noah had stood firm, never once throwing a harsh comment my way.

  “I'm surprised he can send two minors with such ease into the equivalent of a preternatural war zone,” I said as the loading bay that would eventually open to allow us to jump out closed with a jarring finality. “Just can't decide whether to love or hate the guy.”

  “He seems to be a good man,” Jas said from across the aisle. “You know, I played under him for a few years. In all that time, he was more than just a foot
ball coach; he was a role model. He drove us to excel, put in our best effort in everything we applied ourselves to. He yelled and hollered like any coach when someone was too slow or if we were being especially big numbskulls.” He cracked a smile at the memory. “It's not easy to manufacture a personality with that kind of depth. Of course, kept a lot hidden, so I can't be sure. But I don't think he's the enemy.”

  “You’re making it more difficult to hate the guy. I don't appreciate it.” My natural affinity to reject any designs of a higher authority was coloring my thoughts. I sensed that Sanders didn't actually wish to do me harm, as long as I didn’t show up on his list. It's hard to run from something as large and powerful as the government. If he was going to try and prod me in the direction of his choice, he would be in for a nasty surprise. By now, I was very capable of pushing back with more force than anyone would think me capable.

  For a few minutes, all was quiet as the pilots up front did their thing, doing the necessary pre-flight checks before takeoff. Then the aircrafts engines fired in quick succession, four propellers that spat wind in their wake as they cut a path to the runway. At least, that's what I assumed because there wasn't much to see from the back of the airplane. This beast was made to pack an excess of people inside, mostly so they could jump out of it, whether into an active war zone or for training. I wasn't yet sure whether our situation applied to the former or was equated to a higher level of insanity. From my track record in the past months and surely the past days, it might very well be a quest for the chalice of eternal life.

  I glanced over at Kathryne, who, even without the briefcase and its dubious contents, was loaded with the tools of her trade. A flowing black cloak was draped across her lean frame, tailored with a hood that would obscure the assassin’s features. Her jacket underneath was specially designed to hold more weapons and I didn't doubt that even more were hidden about her person, though how she would fit anything in the tight black pants was beyond me. Herk, true to his quiet and terse personality, leaned back against the metal hull of the airplane, eyes closed. The man confused me, but he appeared to be on our side for now.