Necrophobia (19 page)

Isobel lead Claire towards the steps in front of a tall complex of stone buildings and arches, overbearing watchtowers rose out of the roof. It was as Claire soon began to realise —
consistent
with the many other weather worn stone structures she’d passed throughout the city. The architects apparently caught in some one-upmanship contest throughout the generations — the more gargoyles leering from atop walls and foreboding spires and metallic bars the better it seemed. She stood before the Night Guard headquarters if the archway in front of it were to be believed. Engravings written in the old tongue across the rock were almost illegible ravaged by time and the elements and hidden beneath a build-up of ash. As she walked nearer towards the heavy bolted stone doors she could make out the stained and rusted pikes atop the walls; though empty they spoke of times not long ago when they would be lined with the heads of vampires and their followers.

Either catching her gaze or reading her mind Isobel leaned closer. “They’re a bit more civilised these days. A bit.” With a wink she pushed the great doors open and strode into the expansive entrance hall, her metal foot and cane clanking loudly across the marble floor. She powered on through waving her badge before her as some of the officers waved them through security checks. Without the menacing silver-masks and hoods the Night Guard were more welcoming; although their execution of a fleeing vampire on her first day was a persistent and prominent memory. Despite her advanced age and prosthesis Isobel walked at an impressive pace; the distinctive footsteps clearing her path better than any badge could. The interior was more spartan than the distinct architecture outside suggested, the main hall was lined with beautifully carved statues of Night Guard heroes and historical figures immortalised forever in granite.

“You might be able to help us Claire.” Isobel steered her gently towards one of the side doors. “The Night Guard are overworked and understaffed at present. With winter coming it’ll be vampire season, the plague’s seeping into the city and the civil unrest these days isn’t helping matters. We’re stretched too thin to keep on top of Haures and his conspiracies.”

“The plague?”

“Nasty business. It’s coming in from the swamp and farmlands to the east. Lot of officers have been drafted to aid the plague doctors.” Isobel paused to let a Night Guard officer escorting a handcuffed and furious man past them in a corridor. “You’ll know them if you see them. Long black cloaks, bird masks, strong stomach.”

Claire nodded. She was too focused on trying to take in her surroundings and the barrage of information to offer much of a detailed response. “So how can I help?”

“Lord Strigoi’s started a few initiatives — the threat of a rogue necromancer and his pet haven’t escaped his notice. We’ve been assigning people we can spare to track any leads. Couple of good men and women are on the case. I’ll swear you and that knight-errant in to work with us on this one.”

She stopped outside a door and rummaged through her coat pocket for keys. The tarnished plaque on the door read ‘Isobel Caldwell’. “If that’s what you wish of course.” Claire realised a lot of the locks and door handles were made from silver-alloys, presumably as a passive counter-measure against vampiric entry. It was hard not to remember Adrian’s enthusiastic and informative lecture about silver weaponry.

“Of course.” Claire repeated with a small smile crossing her face. “I want to help.”

The former Inquisitor unlocked the door and shouldered her way into her office. “Better this way with all the paperwork official than you doing it anyway and getting yourself killed. Your mother’d never forgive me.” They entered and closed the door behind them, the office was relatively clutter-free barring a few piles of paperwork and some unusual artefacts stored on a shelf. “Your father neither, thinking about it.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence there.” She replied with exaggerated offence. In truth she knew it was a very real possibility; the cult was numerous and far-reaching enough to attack a heavily defended stronghold amongst other things. She’d always denied Sevaur’s accusations of being a reckless thrill-seeker; he was wrong but not entirely. Like her father she’d developed a
mild
competitive edge, to put her hard earned skills to the test and prove she could do it. It was the challenge she sought, not the danger; though admittedly they were almost inseparable.

“I think you may prove to be a useful asset.” Isobel eased herself onto her chair and rustled through her drawers looking for paperwork.

“Do we know what Haures is after?” It was an obvious question to ask but she’d never felt comfortable relying on assumptions, to track your prey you need to understand what they want, where they’ll be and what they’d do to get it.

“We’re not entirely sure. He’s building towards something but we’re unsure of what. He’s been gathering followers but the question is for what. If it were for power that bloody dragon is worth an army alone.”

“Where is he getting his followers from? With the Inquisition after him I doubt he can personally recruit.”

Isobel looked up from her desk and smiled. “Lowlifes, refugees fleeing the plague, criminals. He doesn’t seem too picky. Some he enthrals others follow him out of loyalty or promises to cheat death. We’ve suspected at least one of the other noble houses within the city has taken him under their wing, perhaps seduced by his promises in exchange for manpower and resources. He’d have plenty of contacts within the city, but we’re taking those out whenever we can.”

She considered this for several moments whilst looking at the strange artefacts Isobel kept in her office. Some were trinkets made from black shiny materials — perhaps obsidian, others were clear and formed from crystal. The reflective sheen of silver implements stored within easy access throughout the office spoke volumes. “Before they resurrected the dragon Morveil mentioned a master of some kind. Do you think they meant one of the nobles? Haures didn’t look too pleased about it.”

“It’s possible. I don’t know of any noble here he’d have any real loyalty too. If he’s working under someone else's orders we’ve got no idea.”

“He didn’t strike me as the sort to call anyone his master. Perhaps he’s being forced somehow.”

Isobel stopped writing and bit her lip. “Inquisitors tend towards the self-reliant side. It is a privilege to answer to no-one but the Lord Inquisitors and Kaiser Luther himself. Since he went rogue I can’t imagine him voluntarily serving anyone else.” The elderly woman stared into space lost in thought until the pen dropping out of her slackening fingers snapped her back.

“Well maybe he’s bound to them some way. Perhaps a debt or they’ve got some leverage.”

“Yes. Perhaps he is bound…”

“You said he controlled Valdgeirr with telepathy?”

“Yes. I broke his connection for a split second or two. Falkner had some measure of control over it as well though he lacks any noticeable psychic talent.”

“Well, I wondered at first if he still needed Falkner to control the dragon but if Haures can already do that there’s no point.” Claire leaned closer as her mind raced though the possibilities. “Your mind reading? How does it work?”

Isobel sat back in her chair and frowned. “I dislike the term mind-reading. People’s minds aren’t linear and concise like a book. Their thoughts are jumbled and overlapping, different thoughts intertwined, starting and stopping. People don’t think in complete sentences or even words sometimes. Depending on the mind it can be like trying to sift through murky water, on a foggy day.”

“Okay. Okay.” Claire held her open palms before her in submission. “I didn’t mean to belittle your talent but I was wondering, if someone thought in a language you couldn’t understand would you understand their thoughts?”

“No. Just vague images and concepts. The impressions of a thought.” Isobel’s mouth became a thin-lipped smile.

“Well that’s it then. It reminds me of something Razakel and I discussed — dragons represent power but they also represent wisdom. If Haures wants wisdom from the dragon he’ll need a translator and only senior Caelites and their captains can speak the dragon’s tongue. Either he wants wisdom for himself or the master him and Morveil serve.”

Isobel didn’t react at first but her brown skin tinged red before she broke into a laugh. “See that’s the kind of thinking we’ve been needing around here. Sometimes an outsider’s perspective is all you need.” She shook her head slowly. “The officers, myself included get so caught up on the scales, incendiary breath and raw power of a dragon we forget the keen mind the Caelites revere so much.”

“That’s probably why the cult uses that owl motif so much.”

“Very good, yes—”

A knock on the door interrupted her, before she could speak the door burst open and a blonde woman clad in the distinctive Night Guard armour walked in.

“Ah, I didn’t realise you had company.” She said taken aback at the sight of Claire.

Isobel sighed and ran her fingers through her curling hair. “Yes, that’s why you’re supposed to wait after knocking.”

“Well it was important.” The officer seemed to recover some of her momentum and rallied. “We’ve brought in all known members of the Leupert cabal about an hour ago. Inspector Thorn’s prepping them for interrogation.”

“Good. That’s very good.”

“I’m sure you heard about the Brinestone Maximum security breakout by now?”

“I’m aware of it yes.”

“Lord Strigoi’s furious. He’s had Chief-Superintendent Warren up at his mansion for the past few hours now.”

“Figures.” Isobel shook her head. “He’ll have to wait till Inquisitor Pietas returns before we make any headway with that.” Isobel reached for her cane and eased herself upwards. “Anything else?”

“There’s been a disturbance at Lychgate — oh and Lady Cleon’s been after you.”

Isobel leaned heavily on her cane and frowned. “What for?”

“Wants to be updated on our progress, given that whole Brinestone fiasco.”

“What’s there to say? We’re understaffed and the cult is resourceful. Veronica knows that. That’s the point of her initiative.”

“Veronica Cleon? If you don’t mind me asking?” Claire regretted the sudden shift in attention.

“Yes. One of Victor’s court. Vampire specialist and anatomist.”

Claire smiled and nodded politely.
So Veronica made a name for herself here. Not bad.

“I take it Lady Cleon is here?”

The younger Night Guard pointed a finger upwards towards the ceiling.

“Let’s get this over with then.” Reaching for her coat she limped past the desk and almost as an after-thought turned towards the still seated Claire. “Actually you’d better come to.” Then without another word she pushed past and made her rhythmic-tapping way down the corridor at enviable speed.

The woman shrugged and exchanged a knowing glance with Claire. “She does that.” With a smile and a gentle hand wave she signalled for Claire to follow as she left the office. “Oh, and hello I suppose. Detective-Constable Hayley Rosenfeld.”

“Claire.” They exchanged a brief handshake before hurrying after the distant Isobel.

Unlike the temples back in Caelholm, the Temple of the Four Gods was almost empty aside from the few clerics and monks tending to the votive candles. Whether due to time of day or a common occurrence Sevaur wasn’t sure but it suited him better that way. As he searched through the deserted halls his eyes were drawn upwards towards the painted murals upon the ceiling and stained glass windows depicting ancient holy wars and the different saints and avatars surrounded by holy light. It was all very inspiring to a point but years of training within the church had drained a lot of the passion from it. One of the devotees to Nereus guided him through the hallways to the guest lodgings within the temple complex towards where Reiner and his subordinates were staying. With a respectful nod she departed leaving him. To his surprise it was Alvar who answered rather than Reiner; the younger Caelite was missing his breastplate and sporting bandages under his armour. He was tall and lean yet somehow he could make himself seem much smaller than he was. A clear scent of rubbing alcohol surrounded the room and an opened bottle of elixir nearby soon revealed itself the source.

“Reiner not about?” Sevaur asked feeling redundant as he did so.

“He’s up at the Night Guard station dealing with a prisoner.” Alvar’s ran his fingers through his long black hair, gently massaging the back of his head.

“Ah.”
Just my luck! I should have stuck with Claire and Isobel.
“What happened to you?”

“Oh this?” Alvar shrugged and looked at his feet. “I messed up. We were attacked in Lychgate and I took a few hits too many. Seems we stumbled upon a hornet’s nest of cultists.” The Caelite beckoned him inside and cleared some space for him.

“You’re alive — that’s a plus.”

“Yeah, can’t complain. Just tired of making mistakes and dragging everyone else down.” He sat down at his desk and his unfinished attempts to smooth out his breastplate. “What did you need from the Captain?”

“We found some information that might interest you. Where Valdgeirr keeps going from an ex-Inquisitor — thought it might help you guys.” He produced some of Isobel’s notes from his side-pack and handed them over.