Resistance (Dark Realm Series) (8 page)

"A golem," Marlowe answered.
"An earthen monster brought to life. A kind of automaton."

Automaton.

"But there are no cables or pulleys.
No steam power," I said, remembering the history I'd read of the humanoid
structure built by Di Vinci during the Renaissance and the replicated bird
fashioned by the ancient Greek, Archytas."

"No," Marlowe answered.
"These automatons are powered supernaturally, it seems."

A ghoul worker walked toward Gethin
carrying another necklace box just ahead of three other workers pulling a cart
with a topiary. The cart pullers yelled and motioned at the necklace box
carrier to get out of their way. The necklace box carrier, glancing behind
himself, scurried forward and into the path of the baby golem. Gethin saw the
coming calamity before I did.

"Stop," he yelled, throwing a
hand toward the necklace box carrier.

The ghoul had just enough time to shoot a
wide-eyed look of panic at the baby golem just before the thing knocked him
down with one swinging tree trunk wide arm. The ghoul rolled, trying to escape
but an elephantine golem foot came down on his head, squashing and breaking it
like a pumpkin under the wheels of a carriage. Certainly, the baby golem had
had an easier time beheading his ghoul than I'd had earlier today.

Gethin shouted an order to the golem and
the thing subsided into a ramrod straight statue pose. A string of obscenities
issued from the wizard as he rushed to the ghoul, but I knew there was going to
be no bringing this one back.

The death of the ghoul didn't make me
cry. In fact, I think I smiled a little. But I soon saw the wizard wasn't
concerned with the ghoul worker's welfare. He didn't check for signs of life in
the prone form. Gethin proceeded directly to the ghoul's hand and then pried
its death grip from the necklace box. Once he had possession, he inspected the
outside and a heavy frown creased his brow and lips when he saw the massive
dent on one side. After opening the lid, he pulled out the crystal by its
chain. As the crystal rose free of the box, a part fell away and crashed to the
floor. The remainder, still hanging from the chain, blackened as if it had been
in a fire, it no longer throbbed red. Gethin tossed it to the floor harrumphing
in disgust.

At the human holding area a scramble drew
my attention. The human I'd seen brought into the warehouse just minutes ago
had dropped and was lying unmoving on the floor. The remaining humans had no
reaction, but a ghoul worker, with agitated jerky movements opened the gate of
the pen and dragged the body out.

"Dammit," Gethin screamed.
"Be careful. A moment's clumsiness has cost us a crystal and the human
stock. Any more mistakes and Prince Leopold will order the execution of you
all."

Gethin shouted something I didn't hear to
the baby golem and it stepped forward, this time with more certain movements
before, pivoting to continue out a side door.

 
Marlowe tugged at my arm and the two of us scattered again
before materializing just outside the building to witness the creature emerge
and join a group of his kindred. A ghoul officer barked an order and the
creatures formed a line, then another, until they had created a column five
wide and seven deep. At another order, the column of creatures began moving in
unison, marching away from the building.

The ghoul officer waved an arm. The
driver of a flatbed cart, powered by zombified donkeys, pulled forward. The
ghoul officer then shouted through the door and into the building, "Bring
the stock."

In short order the human prisoners,
tethered together by rope, trudged in a single file from the building.
Docilely, they followed a ghoul soldier even climbing onto the cart. Once
they'd filled the area of the flatbed, the ghoul officer shouted to the driver,
"Take them to feedlot C-1."

Gethin strode out from the building.
"Wait," he shouted. "Take this one too." At his signal two
workers carried out the body of the human who'd died when the crystal was
destroyed. They lifted the corpse up onto the edge of the flatbed. As they
pushed it, the body nudged the legs of the human cattle and they absently moved
to make room.

"Take the corpse to the Tower Bridge
on your way," Gethin said. "The soldiers on watch there need feeding
and we have this body to dispose of." Gethin said.

"That way there'll be no waste of
human meat," the ghoul officer replied with a smirk and a happy nod.

"Yes. The prince will be
pleased," Gethin said with a disgusted curl to his lip.

"We must go back to the
clinic," Marlowe said.

"I have no idea how to get out of
here. We aren't in my vision any longer."

A sudden heat flared in the palm of the
hand Marlowe gripped as if I'd used it to extinguish a candle.

With a hiss I pulled my hand, my real
hand, from Riley's side. I came back to myself inside the clinic. Out of breath
and panting as if I'd just run here from the warehouse, I had to blink hard
several times to get the room into focus.

"What's the matter?" Riley
asked.

"Nothing." I stepped away and
plunged my hands into the basin next to the medic. The water pinked as I
twisted and laved at my skin in the coolness "The blood was sticky, that's
all."

"I didn't realize you had such a
blood phobia," Riley joked and the medic chuckled.

"Mind your own affairs,
Sergeant," I barked. "Or next time I might just let you bleed to
death."

I glanced to the side and saw Marlowe
scrutinizing me in silence with knowing eyes. He knew what my supposed phobia
was about because he'd actually been in my vision. He hadn't been a figment of
my imagination after all.

Stomping toward the door, I grabbed
Marlowe as I passed him and he allowed me to pull him through to the hall.

"That girl is strange," I heard
Riley say.

"She's a bitch, that's what,"
the medic muttered.

Riley snickered. "Well...both are
true."

I slammed the door closed to block out
their laughter.

"What are we going to do about those
things?" I whispered furiously at Marlowe. "And don't pretend you
don't know what I'm talking about."

"I have no intention of
pretense," Marlowe said in a low voice. "As I said before, those
things are golems. But I don't know what we are going to do about them. They
are generally considered indestructible."

"Bloody hell. So what you're saying
is that the prince is...the prince is..."

"The prince is creating an army of
invincible twelve-foot mud monsters."

"Can
you imagine what I would do if I could do all I can?"

Sun
Tzu,
The Art
of War

"I must tell the general about these
golem things." I said, charging down the hall.

With his long legs Marlowe should've been
able to easily keep pace with me, but he lagged a few steps behind. "How
do you know what we saw in the vision is real?"

How did I know? Certainly the vision had
been nothing like any other I'd experienced. The things I'd seen could have
been my own delusion. Or the images could have been manipulated by Marlowe. Was
he playing a devious game? Showing me those golems and then trying to convince
me they might not be real?

"Think, Amy," he said panting a
little as he chased me. "Even if Gethin is actually creating golems in
that warehouse, how will you explain your knowledge of their existence? You do
not wish to tell her of the real source of your
blood phobia
, do you?"

I skidded to a halt.

"No more than I wish to tell her of
all my talents," Marlowe continued. "I understand your General
Thatcher does not tolerate powers of the supernatural."

"You understand right," I
muttered before pinning him with an arched gaze. "Just what are all
your
talents?"

"Oh no." Marlowe's lips twisted
into a sly smile and the glint in his eyes taunted me. "What fun would
there be in telling? I prefer you to discover me bit by bit."

Something about his innuendo had a hollow
ring as if he were trying to rile me and divert my attention from something.
Was it my question about his talents or something else? For the first time
since I'd encountered Marlowe he appeared fatigued. And this after he'd merely
been lounging against a wall in the clinic. He'd been in my vision but...

"Are you all right?" I asked
him.

 
Marlowe gave a startled jerk. "Of course."

"Really? Because you seem
pale."

"Shouldn't we be discussing the
golems?"

"Not until I know whether you're
going to faint on me."

"I am not going to faint. I have
never fainted. I never will faint," he shouted.

"Okay, okay. You have no weaknesses.
I get it."

"I did not say that," he
shouted. Visibly calming himself, Marlowe rubbed his temples. "Our
excursion into the vision merely gave me a headache. I am otherwise fine and I
don't expect a headache will cause me to lose consciousness. Satisfied?"

With a shrug and a nod, I continued on
down the hall, this time at what felt like a stroll. "If Driscoll hadn't
been there I could tell the general that Fenwick gave me the information about
the golems."

"Is it likely he would tell her
otherwise?"

"Oh yes. He loves to tattle," I
said. "What about actually going to the warehouse for real."

"And have your soul sucked out for
real?" Marlowe asked. "I think a confrontation with the golems and
their ghoul handlers should be planned for after we learn a little more about
how to defeat them."

After proceeding in silence for a few
moments, Marlowe and I turned a corner and descended the stairs.

"If we knew where this feedlot C-1
is located we could at least save the human prisoners," I muttered.

 
Marlowe heard me. "But, if that vision was true, we do
know they were headed to the Tower Bridge.

"Right. They could still be there or
not far away. We have to mount a rescue." Despite the dire situation I
couldn't help staring into the depths of his brown eyes. Losing myself in them
seemed so easy, even now. Marlowe wasn't human. But what was he? And whatever
he was I didn't trust him...even though I wouldn't mind kissing him again.

Disgusted with myself, I shook my head as
I stomped away down the hall. "We have to mount a rescue."

"I'll come with you." Marlowe
said, easily coming alongside me.

In order to lead us into a trap? Even if
that were his plan, I found I couldn't stand the thought of leaving those
humans to be milked and fed upon like so much cattle if even a chance of saving
them existed.

"I don't need you," I said.

 
Marlowe grabbed my arm and pulled me to a stop. His eyes
locked with mine. "No, my dear Amy. I will accompany you. I have a vested
interest in your well-being."

What did that mean? Even as I craved
clarification of his last statement, I found I couldn't ask.

"Besides," he continued,
breaking into a smirk. "Do you trust me to stay here in your absence? What
might I do whilst you are away? Alas, I know not."

Bollocks! If Marlowe planned a trap he
could just as easily be trying to lure me out of headquarters so he could
spring it here.

"Wouldn't you rather have me where
you can keep an eye on me?" he asked teasingly.

"All right. Sod it. You're coming
with me." He had me and the bastard knew it. "First, I need
whisky."

###

Thank
you for reading
Resistance, Volume One of the Dark Realm Series
. If you enjoyed it,
I hope you will post a review at Amazon.com. And if you would like to know more
about me, please visit my websites at
http://www.patriciamason.net
and
http://www.prmason.net
You'll find out
how to get free books there.

Look for the continuation of Amy's
story in VENGEANCE, Dark Realm Series, Volume Two. Coming in March 2013.

The audience is led into a darkened room
illuminated only by the flickering light of three small candles on a corner
table. There are no other furnishings aside from a wooden easel at the room's
center. Mounted on the easel is a large, ornately framed mirror. On closer
inspection it's clear the room has been painted black and the windows have been
obscured by heavy drapes.

Moderator: Hello everyone. We are in
store for a rare treat: a televised interview with a princely vampire. On one
side we have Kizzy Taylor, a feisty fifteen-year-old high school girl from
Savannah, Georgia. On the other side—in an alternate dimension—we
have His Royal Highness, Prince Leopold, monarch of the British Empire of
Dorcha.