Hellboy: The God Machine (11 page)

"The father of the family, he looked to be the leader, started talking about acquiring items of...imbued power, I think it was."

He guessed he said the magic words, because everyone around the table started looking at one another and writing stuff down.

"And there were these marks on certain areas of the map. I wasn't sure what they were up to until I saw them robot things being sent out on missions and coming back with all kinds of bizarre stuff: big rocks, sections of wall, even a Styrofoam cup for Christ's sake. And as all of this crap was brought in, the marks on the map were removed."

Hellboy nudged one of the three technicians who sat beside him. "Be a peach and go and get us a map."

The tech nodded, getting up from his seat and leaving the room.

"And that was when you decided that you'd better get in contact with me?" Tommy asked.

"Yep, I knew they were up to no good. They just kept on building them freaky corpse things, using these batteries to make 'em go. I didn't realize what kind of power was being stored inside 'em until it was almost too late."

"Spook power," Hellboy said, reaching for the pitcher in front of him and pouring himself a glass of water.

"Right on the nose," the ghost responded. "Suddenly I was feeling this kind of tug from one of the freaky machines in the basement, and I realized that they were pulling me in with the other wandering spirits nearby. I knew I couldn't fight it for long, which is why I took you over, Tommy, and wrote the note. I had to make you aware of what was going on."

Steve paused, remembering the horror of it.

"It was like being ripped in half. I didn't think you could be hurt when you were a ghost. Hurt like hell though, but I managed to take a good look at their map to see where they were going to strike next and made you write it down; thought it might be useful."

His nephew gestured to another one of the science technicians. And just like show-and-tell, the man pulled up the broken containment battery and placed it on the table.

"And you became trapped within that until Hellboy freed you earlier this morning?" Tommy asked him.

Steve nodded, floating backward away from the thermos-shaped object. The ghost didn't even want to be near it. "Yeah, the machine kinda vacuumed me up, stuck me inside the battery with some of the other spooks that were floatin' around."

Steve looked around the table. "And now I'm here with you."

Everyone remained silent, ruminating on the information he had given them.

"Well, what do you think?" the ghost finally asked. "We got enough to be concerned or what?"

His nephew was the first to speak. "Kate, what have you found out about this Band of Electricizers, anything on record we could use?"

The woman tapped her pen against her temple. "Nope, nothing. I searched every database I have, and even a ton of hard copy, but I couldn't find even a mention of them. Whoever they were, they kept what they were up to pretty secret."

Steve glanced at Sally, hoping to make eye contact with the other ghost, this woman who had become so special to him in such a short time.

"So the million-dollar question is, what were they doin' then, and what are they up to now," Hellboy said, taking a sip of water. "We need some answers so we can figure out what we should be doing next."

Sally turned her attention to Steve. As their gazes met, something passed between the ghosts, and he hoped that she wouldn't be too upset with him for what he was about to suggest.

"I think Sally might be able to shed some light on that," he said, and they all looked at the spectral woman. She shook her head violently from side to side, her image beginning to soften like drifting smoke.

Disappearing.

"Sally, no," Steve called, drifting over to her. "Don't go, we need you. I know it's tough for you to remember, but I think you can help us out."

She was nearly gone, her image barely an outline, when it began to return--to solidify.

"That's a girl," he said, smiling. Steve reached out his ghostly hand to touch her charred cheek. "Anything you can share with us about your husband would be swell."

"Husband?" Hellboy asked, surprise in his voice. "Who's that?"

Everyone stared curiously at the specter of the burned woman--all except for Liz Sherman. She seemed to prefer to look anyplace other than at Sally.

The ghost of the woman raised a charred hand slowly to her throat--her mouth moved, but no sound came out.

"It's too much for her to speak," Steve said, "but if one of you wouldn't mind giving up your body for a minute, she could use your voice to speak with us."

There were no volunteers at first, but then the redhead--Liz--slowly raised her hand to volunteer, looking as though she'd just agreed to take a bullet.

"I'll do it," Liz said, her voice low and raspy. She wasn't sure exactly why, just that it seemed to be the right thing to do.

Maybe it had something to do with guilt over her reaction when she'd seen the ghost of the burned woman for the first time. Liz had been revolted, and she'd seen the look of hurt in the poor woman's dark, soulful eyes.

"You sure about this, kid?" Hellboy asked, shifting in his seat. He seemed almost as uncomfortable with the situation as she was.

Almost.

"I'm sure," she said, her gaze fully connecting with Sally's ghost for the first time. "What do I have to do?"

"Nothing," the ghost of Manning's uncle said, escorting Sally through the air above the table, toward her. "Just relax and let Sally do the drivin'."

This was it; there was no turning back now. Liz closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and tilted her head back slightly in preparation.

"Go ahead, honey," she heard Steve urge his friend. "Tell us what you know."

Liz opened her eyes in time to see the ghost of the burned woman flow toward her, her horribly burned visage moving closer. She fought the urge to move away, the hammering of her heart urging her to escape.

She had no idea what to expect, feeling the air around her becoming ridiculously cold as the ghost flowed around her, attempting to merge with her body.
It's like being immersed in a cloud of freezing vapor,
she thought. Liz gasped, feeling her body grow suddenly rigid, as she slowly accepted the ghost into her.

"Is she all right?" Hellboy asked, but he sounded so very far away.

"No problem," Steve explained, also from a great distance. "That's just Sally getting used to the driver's seat."

Where there had first been intense cold, Liz now felt only warmth. It was strangely comforting, as if the spirit of the woman who was taking control of her body was somehow attempting to reassure her that everything was going to be just fine.

And Liz Sherman believed her, stepping aside so that Sally could have her voice.

Liz wasn't exactly sure how much time had passed, but suddenly she found herself back in control of her body, not feeling much different than she had on the numerous times she'd dozed off during a debriefing or staff meeting. She felt kind of groggy and could have used a strong cup of coffee and a cigarette.

Sally's ghost had returned to float beside Manning's uncle across the table.

"Is that it?" Liz asked aloud, rubbing her hands across her face. Her cheeks felt numb.

"Yes, Liz, that's fine," Tom Manning said. "Thank you."

Everyone sitting around the table looked strangely apprehensive, and she was about to ask what had been said, when she realized it wouldn't be necessary.

She already knew.

Her head was filled with recollections not her own, but detailed nonetheless. Liz steadied herself in her chair as the rush of images cascaded through her mind.

She saw--
experienced
--it all, feeling the poor woman's emotions as she was sacrificed to an otherworldly power. Liz gasped aloud as she felt what it was like to burn from within. To be on fire. Despite her power, the fire within her, she had never
burned
like this.

"Oh my God," she cried, her body starting to tremble.

Hellboy was suddenly at her side, a comforting arm around her shoulder as he handed her a cup of water.

"Here, drink this."

Liz took the plastic cup from him, the images continuing to bombard her.

"The bastard," she said, before taking a sip from the cup. "He allowed her to die...to burn up." Liz drank in gulps, realizing how thirsty she was from her ordeal.

Everyone at the table was watching her, already aware of Sally's ordeal.

"Take it easy, kid," Hellboy said, his arm still tightly around her.

She remembered the darkness that followed Sally's death, recalling its every detail as if it were her own memory. In the darkness, something was waiting, and it all became horribly clear.

Sally had been the sacrifice, taken as payment so that her husband and his twisted friends could communicate with whatever it was that was supposed to be sleeping in the void.

Then she saw them, in the shadows of death, three shapes--three sleeping giants--but one was awake, and it was horrible. She felt its thoughts, its hunger to be free.

Its designs upon the world.

"I think we might be in trouble," Liz said, the realization of what they were dealing with finally hitting home.

Her words were met with an uneasy silence in the room.

Inside the farmhouse, in a room that he had claimed as his personal space over ninety years ago, Absolom Spearz, in Stan Thomas's body, sat before the computer monitor, his fingers flying over the surface of the keyboard.

What technological marvels this era has achieved,
he thought, dazzled by what could be accomplished with this wondrous device.

He had imagined a device similar to the computer before his untimely demise, although his design had required a human brain suspended in embryonic fluid. He'd never had the opportunity to make his plan a reality, and he wasn't quite sure which of the devices would have been more effective. But at the moment, Absolom was more than satisfied with what he had to work with.

The Electricizers were in complete control of the bodies they currently inhabited but were still able to access the memories of their hosts, making it that much easier for them to acclimate to modern times. Absolom imagined how lost they would have been without the ability to understand the world to which they had been returned--a world full of cell phones, the Internet and automatic transmissions.

Using a search engine, he was able to call up information on the red-skinned abomination that had been recorded in the eyes of his mechanical agent. Relief flooded him when he learned that it wasn't actually Satan that had attempted to foul his plans, but the world's foremost paranormal investigator. The creature was known as Hellboy, and he worked for an organization called the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense.

"Fascinating," Absolom whispered, finding multiple references for the group.

The BPRD existed to combat threats of an unearthly nature. He wondered briefly if he and his band would be perceived as such--as the enemy. Of course they would be. There would be little difference between this Bureau and the rabble that had set his barn afire.

They wouldn't understand.

The images from that day so many years ago filled his mind, and his heart began to hammer inside his chest.

"Never again," he hissed, remembering how they had died, only to be reborn in the here and now--all except for one.

Absolom pushed back from the computer, the memory of Mary Hudnell's absence still painful. "Why isn't she with us?" he wondered aloud, though he doubted that his savior was listening. "Why wasn't she given the same chance as the rest of us--to carry out your wishes?"

He thought of her belly, full of life, full of promise, and nearly broke down into tears. With that memory still searing his brain, his fingers returned to the keyboard, typing in the name of his missing disciple. The woman intended to be the Madonna of their god.

There were multiple historical sources of information about the Hudnell family and their shipping empire, with nary a mention of Mary and her fate, but then something caught his attention.

It was an article from the
Evening Item,
Lynn's daily periodical. The story had been published on September 16 of the previous year and concerned a special birthday celebration for Mary Elizabeth Burchett, last surviving relative of the great Hudnell shipping family. He called up the article and his breathing stopped.

Is it possible? Can it actually be?
he thought, quickly scanning the words on the screen.

Mary Elizabeth Burchett was the last of the Hudnells, one of the founding families of Lynn...married late in life...the two had no children...Mrs. Burchett had turned one hundred years old that day.

The age isn't right; she would have been well past one hundred years, but...

He scrolled down farther to find there was a picture of the old woman. Black-and-white, and quite grainy, sitting in front of an enormous cake, its surface covered in burning candles. Absolom leaned in close to the monitor just to be sure. The photo showed that she was bedridden, surrounded by what appeared to be medical staff. The old woman's ancient face was illuminated in the light from the candles.

A sound from behind him interrupted his search, and Absolom turned to see Annabel Standish standing in the doorway. The slightest hint of displeasure was ignited in him as he noticed the heavy red makeup applied to her young cheeks, her thin, child's lips painted to appear wet and full. She looked like a whore, but at that moment nothing could suffocate his growing excitement over what he had uncovered.

He was about to speak, to tell her his news, when she beat him to the punch.

"We can't...I can't deal with it anymore, Absolom," she stamped her tiny foot upon the floor. "Qemu'el has abandoned us, and you say that we're going to complete our mission, but you give us no explanation of how. We're down in that filthy, dirty basement all day and night working on projects that you say will help us to change the world but..."