Ancient Evil (The First Genocide Book 1) (12 page)

Given her current predicament, she would
prefer to not have access to any of her mundane senses either, much less her
enhanced ones.

She flinched from the sight of her ruined
body.

She abhorred the smell of it.

She was tired of listening to her own
feeble whimpering and not so feeble screaming.

Her mouth felt like a garbage man had taken
a dump in it.

Of all her limited senses, however, the
pain made touch the one sense she would have done anything, absolutely
anything, to be without.

How had it been possible to trap her?
Leader had taught the coven well, and they knew the dangers, which were few.
One of their brothers or sisters, one of the other partially Quickened, one of the
truly Quickened, getting overloaded by a rapid influx of heat or energy. All of
these things could damage or kill her, but to trap her was inconceivable. It
had been inconceivable, but not anymore.

She thought again about the Taser. When the
cripple had said, “No ordinary Taser,” he had been right. He had either been
very lucky or he had calibrated it exactly to her — just enough energy to
incapacitate her, but not enough to completely overload her and initiate
combustion. Her little crip was much more dangerous than he had first appeared.

She looked around to see if anything had
changed since last she woke.

The cage was in the center of what appeared
to be an operating room or laboratory. The lab was well-lit, the walls were
white, the floor was white and the ceiling was white. Bolted to the white
ceiling were two large red tanks covered with alarming symbols and the words
“Extreme Fire Risk” stenciled in — you guessed it — white. A series of pipes
ran from the tanks to large sprinkler heads dotted across the ceiling. Charlie
spent much of her awake time thinking about the tanks and sprinklers and what
she would do if they ever started to spray.

There was a large industrial desk along one
wall with an impressive IT set up. Two of the other walls had tables set up
against them. The tables were covered with piles of metallic junk, rolls of
wire and odd-looking instruments. The last wall was mostly taken up by a large
metal door that would have looked more at home in a bank vault. She had never
seen the door open. Every once in while the red light above the door would
light up with a soft buzzing sound and she would lose consciousness to the
crackling sound of her cage being electrified. She would then wake up some time
later, altered in some way, usually missing something or damaged in some
horrific way.

Her cage was in the center of the room. It
was a five-foot cube, with a tile floor that sloped down to a drain in the
center. It would have been uncomfortably small if she had still had all her
limbs. In her current state, however, she had room to spare. The bars were
scratched and some of the tiles were newer than others. This led her to believe
that she was not the first to have been imprisoned in this lab, nor the first
who had tried to escape.

Beside her cage was a surgical tray with
various sharp instruments. The tray and the instruments were on her “things not
to think about” list.

The only thing keeping her sane — well, as
sane as she was before she left the pub that night — was that she knew that if
she could escape, she would heal. A few days or weeks of rest, some nourishment
and she would be good as new, no matter what the damage was.

All she needed to do was to get away.

She still had hope. Her coven was hunting
for her. Nothing in existence hunted better than her coven.

She would persevere.

She would be vigilant.

And when she got out she would tear the world
apart searching for the fucking bastard who had imprisoned and mutilated her.

She put every iota of her remaining
strength into a
call
for help.

She looked up and saw the red light go on.
“Bollocks,” she said.

“Did you hear that?” said Baby.

“I did not hear anything, rien. You must be
imagining it due to ennui,” said Little Eve in her slight French accent. When
not with Leader the others spoke to Baby verbally; it cut down on the
headaches. “And why did she take them off the search? It is more work for us,
no?” Baby sometimes wondered if the French thing was all just an act. It had to
be didn’t it? How could someone speak English for as long as Eve had and still
retain a foreign accent?

“I don’t know anything more than you,” said
Baby. “One day Don and Lew are combing the streets for Charlie, the next they
are off on some secret mission for Leader. Has she ever done this before?”

“But of course. It is not so unusual for
Leader to lend one or two of us out to one of her contacts. True, she has just
not done so since you became one of us, but it is not unusual. Still, I am
surprised that she took les deux idiots off the search.”

“They wouldn’t have found her anyway.
There’s a time for muscle and a time for brains.”

“Mais oui. Still, she is usually so protective
of what is hers. This must be a big favor that she is granting or paying back.
That or she has given up on our poor Charlie.”

“Or she, and therefore, we are work for
someone and she had no choice in the matter.”

“Oh hush, Baby. Leader is Leader, beholden
to no one. She does as she wishes.”

“I know you have been with her for a long
time and know her better than I do, still it seems to me that someone said jump
and she hit the ceiling.”

“Oh, Baby, you had to keep talking, didn’t
you? Oui, c’est possible, but now I need to try and remove this memory from my
mind, lest Leader find it and consider me complicit in your disrespect. As you
know, she considers such thoughts disloyal. I suggest you try to remove it
too.” Little Eve paused. “Do you want to go again, or would you like me to take
a turn?”

Baby was more able at astral projection,
but after a few days of driving herself to the edge of exhaustion they had
agreed to switch off occasionally, to allow Baby to rest while Little Eve
continued the search. Even with the rest breaks they were both getting worn
out. Worn out and bored.

Baby agreed to stand guard and Little Eve
settled on the rug and sent her spirit searching. An hour later when she
returned they picked up their conversation where they left off, the need to
relieve their boredom trumping any possible risk of punishment from Leader.

“I haven’t seen her act like this in years.
Not since that time we snatched you,” Eve stretched as she spoke. She ate a
cracker and had some water to ground herself in the material world. “What is
she having them do, anyway?”

“Nice, Eve. Nice of you to refer to my
kidnapping in such a casual way.”

“Oh pooh. If we had not taken you, you
would still be a meek petit field mouse, but now you are a lion. You cannot
expect me to believe that you would have preferred to have stayed as one of the
blind slugs we feed on.”

“Excuse me if I don’t thank you; the years
spent as your plaything and occasional snack are still a little fresh. Maybe in
time,” Baby said. To tell the truth, she was finding it harder and harder to
remember what was so good about life before being Turned. Looking back was like
remembering a character she played in a play. There was no depth of emotions
from that time, she had known so little. “I don’t know what they’re up to. It
is all very hush hush. Typical Leader keeping everything to herself. Did Don or
Lew mention anything to you?”

“Rien. They are enjoying knowing more than
us. Although I don’t think they know any more about the reason for their
assignment than we do. Petit garcons.”

“I suppose we should get back to it. My
turn, is it?”

“Oui.”

Finn
got a sinking feeling in his stomach when he turned up outside the Student
Union on the morning of the “Extreme Sledging” trip. Bex had not mentioned the
“extreme” part when she asked him if he wanted to go at the Ball. But Jonni,
also a member of the “Alternative Sports Club,” had taken great delight in
showing Finn the newsletter when Finn mentioned that he was going. Extreme or not,
there was no way Finn was going to chicken out if Bex was going. Luckily, Jonni
had an extreme aversion to exertion and so only halfheartedly pretended that he
was going to tag along.

The source of his mild nausea was the group
of eleven people, dressed up like polar explorers, waiting for him by the
Student Union van. Finn, on the other hand, was wearing jeans with track suit
bottoms underneath and a brown leather jacket. He had thought he was being
particularly sensible by remembering to wear an extra layer. He even had a
scarf. Then Bex arrived, kitted out in a similar arctic outfit.

She looked him up and down and slowly shook
her head.

“Oh well, you’re here now, I am sure you
will be fine,” she said.

“Fine? What do you mean fine? It’s not
dangerous or anything, is it?”

“Um, no. No, of course not,” she said with
increasing confidence. “Look, I am really glad you came. I know it is not
really your thing, so, thanks for coming. Let’s get in the van, okay?”

He looked inside the Union-branded van and
then at the gathered students. “It looks like we are missing a seat or two.
There is room for ten, maybe eleven inside and I distinctly see thirteen of
us.”

“Oh, don’t be such a Wee Mary,” she said
with a smile. Her smile transmuted into a naughty smirk. “I’ll sit on your
lap.”

He scrambled into the van with his pack
containing a sleeping bag, twelve cans of beer, two Pot Noodles and a couple of
pork pies. His small, round sledge was tied to the outside of his pack.

The two-hour drive into the mountains was a
particular type of hell for him — a hell that he would not have changed in any
way at all. The most noteworthy part was the end of the trip where the van
turned onto an unpaved road that the van’s shocks were not really up to
handling. At one stage Bex turned and looked over her shoulder at him with one
archly raised eyebrow, so he needed to firmly fix an image of Jonni Brown with
kilt raised in his mind’s eye until he regained control of himself. Control was
regained quickly.

He longingly exited the van when they
reached what he guessed was their destination. He could only tell it was his
destination because everyone else got out of the van, but to him it just looked
like another deserted stretch of gravel road winding its way through a
wasteland of heather, gorse, lichen and rock.

Bex was off talking to some other girls so
he turned to one of the guys standing nearest to him and said, “So, not much
snow. Are we going to head back or something?”

“What do you mean no snow?” he flourished
at a snow-capped peak in the distance, “Behold, snow.”

Finn sighed.

“So, first time?”

“Yeah, I was expecting something a little
more… I don’t know, just more. At least we have the little house thing to stay
in overnight.”

“Little house thing? Oh you mean the
bothy?” he chuckled a little.

Finn squinted at him, trying to figure out
what was funny and getting a sinking feeling in his gut again.

The guy put his hand out and said, “I’m
Simon.”

Finn looked at his hand for a second before
reaching out and shaking Simon’s hand. “I’m Finn.”

“Welcome aboard, Finn. This is going to be
lots of fun. Trust me.”

“So, judging from your accent I am guessing
you are from…” Finn  paused. Simon sounded American, but he had frowned a
little when Finn started to guess where he was from so Finn went with,
“Canada?”

“Hey, you got it in one. I hate it when
people assume I am some DFA. I think you and I are going to be friends.”

“DFA?”

“You know Dumb Fucking Amer—“

“Hey Finn. Simon.” Simon was interrupted by
Bex. “You boys ready to go?”

“Let’s hit the road,” said Simon, hitching
up his backpack. Finn was gratified to hear the clank of cans and bottles from
Simon’s pack. It could turn out to be a fun weekend.

Finn, Simon and Bex climbed over the
roadside fence using the stile and followed along behind the ten other members
of their extreme sledging group.

As the group disappeared over the first
hill a Mini Cooper pulled up and parked behind the Student Union Van. A
striking woman with pale blue eyes unfolded herself from the car. She pulled a
hat onto her short, bristly blonde hair and set off after the group of students
at a deliberate pace. She was in no hurry to catch them; she knew where they
were going and could track them if they changed their destination.

Bex had been mingling with the group, so
Finn had the option of either following her around like a lost puppy or
attempting to strike up conversation with some of the others in the group, neither
of which was particularly appealing to him. He decided to go with door number
two.

He started by walking near Simon and a girl
he was talking to and joined their conversation by proximity — laughing at
their jokes and grunting in the affirmative to start with and then by
contributing a bit of trivia that he thought was relevant to their
conversation. All the while he was keeping aware of exactly where Bex was.

He noticed Bex move on to talk to someone
else, so he thought, “What the hell, in for a penny in for a pound” and walked
over to the dark-haired student who seemed to be leading the group and stuck
out his hand, “Hi, I’m Finn.”

“Hi Finn. Trevor.”

After a few hours of walking and a couple
of brief rest stops, Finn had spoken to everyone a little and was starting to
enjoy himself. They had hit the snow and his feet were starting to get really
cold in his black leather shoes. At least they had a thick rubber sole on them.

Bex walked over. “Turning over a new leaf?”

“Huh?” He looked at her quizzically.

“Talking to people, introducing yourself, I
mean really you are shameless.”

“Very funny, I am not a complete hermit,
you know.”

She looked at him and raised her eyebrows.

“Okay, so it’s bit of a struggle, but I’m
making an effort, okay? Maybe I don’t want to appear to be a complete spacko in
front of your friends.”

“I’m just teasing you. Anyway, these aren’t
really my friends. I’ve seen a couple around and I went to the meeting where
they explained what to expect, but I wouldn’t have called any of these people
friends.”

“What? We are here out in the middle of
nowhere with a bunch of strangers?” He said it a little louder than intended.

“Not strangers anymore, Finn, my boy. Not
anymore.”

Finn looked around and understood her
point. “Wait, there was a meeting?”

“Yeah, of course. Last week on the top
floor of the Union. I am sure I told you about it. Didn’t I?” He shook his
head. “I wondered why you didn’t show up. I was kind of surprised to see you
waiting by the van this morning; I thought you chickened out.” He tried to look
offended, but she continued on, “They told us where to meet, what to bring. You
know, sleeping bag, hats, gloves, the basics. It was not really worth
attending. I mean who needs to be told that they need to bring a hat and gloves
sledging?”

“Hmm.”

“What do you mean hmmm? Oh no, really?
Neither a hat nor gloves? Please tell me you brought a sleeping bag.”

“Of course I have a sleeping bag. I just
didn’t think to bring a hat or gloves. I’ll be fine, really.”

“If you say so.” She shook her head a
little. “You may be brilliant, but you really do need to have someone look
after you, don’t you?”

He did not know how to respond to that, so
he didn’t.

He looked around and quickly counted
everyone and then grunted to himself.

Bex said, “What?”

“Nothing really, it just seemed like the
group was smaller. I was wondering if we were missing someone. But, nope, all
thirteen of us are here. Weird”

“You know, I noticed this kind of thing
before on these types of trips. As you get to know people, the group just seems
to get smaller. I suppose it becomes a little more familiar or intimate as the
group stops being a bunch of strangers and becomes Simon and Claire and Trevor
and Morag.”

“Who’d have figured getting to know people
could be so interesting?”

“Um, everybody. Weirdo,” she said it with a
smile and play punched him on the arm.

The woman kept back, always just a hill or
two behind them, out of sight. Now that they had reached the snow she just
walked along in their tracks. Even if they thought someone was following, even
if they tried to evade her, they would fail, snow or no snow. She had been
tracking and hunting for an unimaginably long time.

The bothy was like a little house, he
supposed, as long as the genus of “little house” encompassed a stone shed with
no furniture. It did have four walls, a wood floor a window (with no glass) and
— thank God — a fireplace.

Details of the bothy emerged like a series
of stop motion photographs as they crested each hill. Trevor pointed out a
black speck on white an hour or so after they left the van behind, then they
walked down into a valley between the hills. When they crested the next hill,
it appeared to be a child’s toy dropped into the snow in the distance. More and
more detail became apparent as they crossed each valley and hill until they
stood before it, in all its modesty.

Finn decided to look at the bright side: at
least it was shelter and it would block the wind.

Trevor, the leader of their little
expedition, said, “Everybody, let’s drop our stuff inside and do a little
sledging before the sun goes down; the hill here has some snow.” He turned and
pointed off into the distance and said, “We’ll go up the mountain tomorrow for
the real thing.”

Finn looked at Bex and pouted. She shrugged
and smiled. “You didn’t think this was it, did you? Come on, don’t be such a
grouch.”

He put a sunny smile on his face and she
laughed that laugh of hers.

Finn walked over to the bothy and climbed
in through the hole in the wall that served as a window; apparently the door
was stuck closed. Wonderful.

She watched them play in the snow on their
small, round toboggans. She watched the one who was not wearing a hat closely. She
was disappointed — she had heard that he was bright — apparently not bright
enough to wear a hat. She would wait for the right opportunity.

The sledging had been fun, but his knuckles
were scraped raw and bleeding. To keep himself from falling off his small,
round sledge he needed to hang on to the sides, so his knuckles dragged along
the snow and ice. Eventually one of the other girls, Morag, noticed him looking
at his hands and loaned him some pink woolen gloves. They were thin and he
looked ridiculous, but they stopped the scraping so he was very grateful.

Back in the bothy, Finn was gratified to see
Trevor pull out a bag of coal from his pack. There was no wood available at the
bothy and they were above the tree line. Finn guessed that was one of the
reasons there was no furniture. He could imagine a desperate traveler — or a
drunk one — smashing furniture to burn during the night.

Trevor pulled out a sleeping bag and then a
bottle of whisky and a bottle of peach schnapps. Finn took this to mean that it
was time to relax and pulled a beer out of his pack and popped the top. Maybe
the bothy was not so bad after all.

After four beers, Finn was relaxed and
feeling good. The cold had been banished by the little coal fire and good
company.

Trevor was finishing up a joke, “—and the
Invisible man says, I don’t know but my ass really hurts.”

As everyone was laughing, Finn looked over
at Bex, who was sitting on her sleeping bag. She smiled and patted the portion
of her sleeping bag that she was not sitting on. Finn got up from where he was
sitting and clumsily sat down beside her.

She took his hand and snuggled into him.

He decided to take the bull by the horns
and ask her about her boyfriend. He opened his mouth to talk when Simon appeared
in front of him said, “Want some whisky? It’s single malt.”

Finn looked at Bex, who shrugged.

“Sure,” he said.

He was not sure exactly how many cans of
beer he had finished off, but he did know that he was being funny. Everyone seemed
to be laughing at his jokes, anyway. He also knew that his bladder was full.
Very full.

The bothy was a single-room building, so he
supposed that meant toilet al fresco.