Leviathan (Fist of Light Series) (13 page)

“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?”

M
r. 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 football 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.

Jas was leaning over, almost as if he had contracted some form of motion sickness, although he hadn't shown any signs of it the last time we we're on a flight together. Thinking back, it was glaringly evident how much we had changed since we had inextricably bound ourselves together. Pulling the coin that started it all out of my pocket, I stared at its gleaming surface. Over the past months, I had taken to polishing the thing out of some sentimental urge to hold onto the past. Finally, Jas levered himself up, the skin below his eyes bruised and sagging, skin clammy and body shaking.

“You don't look so good,” I told him bluntly, concerned. “You good?”

“I'm fine.” Jas shrugged off the shakes and sat bolt upright. “Just a little out of sorts, is all. And maybe a bit thirsty. All this shit has my body out of whack. I just want him to be okay.”

“He'll be fine. He's tough, tougher than a clutch of vampires,” I reassured him outwardly but wasn't too sure of the statement myself.

We were flying into a very unadvisable situation for the average sane, rational-minded person and possibly about to be caught in the spider’s web. Any self-respecting horde of vampires with a lair under the earth was going to have some serious defenses in place for those unwise enough to confront them so openly where they were strongest. Fighting one Royal in the Dreamscape hadn't been a piece of cake, either. Maybe I had expended more energy than strictly necessary due to the combination of Air and Water, but regardless, vampires weren't pushovers. Even their lower-tier minions were something to be wary of. The most effective use of our energy would be to expend it all on the Royals, since their lower-tier vamps weren't much more than an extension of their power.

“What's in the bag?” Jas interrupted my ruminations, the curious expression on his face partially obscuring how bad he looked.

At the question, Kathryne dug through the bag with a fury next to none; she had obviously been testing her patience, waiting for someone else to voice their sentiments. The bag wasn't anything special, a simple sports bag with one main compartment and two sub-compartments. The contents, however, were something else altogether.

“Plastic explosive, and lots of it.” Kathryne sounded like Christmas had come early for her as she weighed the C4 in her hands before digging into a side pocket. “Remote detonator, a Sig 9mm for each of us. Plus spare ammo.” A childish giggle escaped her.

Kathryne tore out one of the guns and checked the magazines, loaded one efficiently and then slapped the magazine back into the gun with the heel of her hand.