Chapter Eleven
Hyding In Plain Sight
Sitting at a kitchen table sipping coffee and having a long talk with good friends happened to be one of my favorite joys in the entire world before I died. Finding out that this hadn’t changed much several days later as I sat in the kitchen most favored by our host gave me a comforting sense of mortal continuity. Only, now it happened to be one of my favorite joys in two worlds, even if the people I was enjoying coffee with had only been friends for a short time . . . and one of those people was supposed to be a notorious murderer from gothic Victorian literature . . . and another one of those people was a crazy-jealous succubus I had only just realized I had inexplicable feelings for.
C’est la vie in the Playground.
And speaking of life, I had to take a few more big gulps of coffee before I was able to wrap my head around my host’s identity. “You’re telling me that you are THE Edward Hyde,” I said again for the sixth time. “I read Robert Louis Stevenson’s book. Jekyll shot himself at the end of the thing thanks to the darker parts of his psyche that you helped him explore.”
I’ll say it again. I don’t like being rude. But when I’m going to have to make the transition from fearing the things that go bump in the night to chumming it up and drinking coffee with them in their kitchen, a guy needs a good number of reassurances before he can feel comfortable he’s not in the kitchen for something else altogether. After all, I hadn’t just read Robert Louis Stevenson.
I had also read the Brothers Grimm.
Edward (I just couldn’t bring myself to think of a man with a flawlessly urbane English accent as Ed or Eddie) smiled patiently at me and told me, “I completely appreciate your incredulity, Jack. Mr. Stevenson liked the story of my life so much that he mixed parts of it with inspiration he took from a disreputable English criminal named William Brodie. When his book came out, I learned my lesson about running my mouth like the drunken fool I was back in those days.
“You mean you’re the original source of your own story?”
“Sadly, I’m afraid so. Told over a bottle of malt whiskey in a dingy little pub in Edinburgh.”
“So what’s the real story?” I asked suspiciously. “Shouldn’t it be Dr. Jekyll meeting us in a place like this?”
Hyde gave me a deep-bellied laugh. “I did think that a man named Hyde hiding in a place called Jekyll Island had a twisted sort of irony.”
“I think I need another coffee,” I said. The stuff was amazing. It had a kick to it that calmed my nerves at the same time.
Edward Hyde grinned. “How very rare,” he said indulgently.
As I added cream to my cup, I asked, “How do you mean?”
“Not many people have a taste or a stomach for gryphon harvested beans,” he said. I almost had the cup’s rim to my lips when he started to explain further. “You’ve heard of civet cat coffee, haven’t you? Well, in this case the beans are collected after the gryphons have—”
I held up my hand. “Stop it right there and don’t say another word. I’m not letting you finish that sentence and ruin it for me.” When it came to coffee, I decided some ignorance was bliss.
Edward was a man who was happy to let some facts remain matters of trivia, and went on with his story, instead. “Dr. Jekyll was a horrid beast that barely deserved to be called a man. His crimes made those committed by H.H. Holmes pale by comparison. Oh yes. Holmes existed here in the Playground’s version of Chicago as well. But for all of his perversity, Jekyll was well ahead of his time in matters of chemistry. Unfortunately, he also had a talent for darker and more unnatural endeavors.
“The elixir he created was supposed to offer him the perfect disguise by altering his physical attributes, thus rendering him unrecognizable to anyone who knew him. Instead of facilitating his darkest schemes, the concoction allowed me brief moments to gain enough consciousness to separate myself from his viperous personality. Though I found myself with an impossible task, I moved to immediately sabotage the monster’s designs, saving countless lives in the process. When I realized Jekyll was preparing a new serum to send my awareness back into the inky pit of hell from which it broke free, I knew that only one option remained if I wanted to stop his murderous spree.” Edward tapped the indented scar on his temple. “That’s when I did this.”
“You shot yourself to stop Jekyll,” I said.
“Indeed,” Edward said. “When I regained consciousness, I was in a casket awaiting burial. I managed to crawl out and buried myself for many years in the intoxicating pleasures of alcohol and opium, fearing a return of my abominable precursor. I found out later after stumbling through a rift between worlds and ending up here that the bullet meant to take my life lobotomized the part of my brain housing Jekyll’s evil psyche.”
I finished my cup, working hard to keep images of gryphons and their bodily functions out of my mind. Mike and I told Edward how we ended up here in the Playground, and Angie allowed me to discuss a bit of her past as well while she irritably tapped her hooves on the floor. I figured she was about to reach her limit of public disclosure, and changed topics before her body temperature rose again.
“What is it you do here?” I asked. “And how do you keep a place like this hidden? Your mansion has to be forty thousand square feet, at least.”
Hyde chuckled when I said that. “Sixty,” he said, somehow managing to sound modest. “But that’s only what you see above ground.”
I looked at Mike, who shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve heard rumors of an Order of Shadows operating somewhere down in the deep South,” he said slowly. “They’re supposed to fight the darker things living in the Playground . . . very unpopular in many of the baronies. The nastier power players, like the vampires, dark sorcerers, and Greater Demons have a bounty on the Shadows, dead or alive. Even the minor powers in the Playground hate them . . . the Diehard Vegans, the Militant Society of Peace at Any Cost, and organizations like the Diversophiles for Enforced Conformity consider the Shadows a hate group. They have ever since the we prevented a mob of the Perennially Offended from burning a town in South Carolina for insisting on having a nativity scene and menorah in the town square at Christmas.”
“You can’t be serious,” I said.
“Oh yes,” Edward said. “Luckily the citizens of the town caught wind of the plot and had them all gift wrapped, packaged and sent San Francisco where they belonged. Never underestimate the ability of the Perennially Offended to find an example of injustice in the most beautiful of themes and occasions. They just got school systems in California to stop teaching lessons about Mahatma Gandhi in World History because the guy was thin. The Perennially Offended called exposing children to pictures of him examples of micro aggression against overweight students.”
“In the world we came from, we have the Perennially Offended, too,” I said.
“Depending on the Principality or Barony here, they have more bite,” Mike warned.
Edward waved a dismissive hand to brush away the issue. “Our main purpose is something much greater. Come with me and I’ll show you!”
As we followed Edward through the labyrinthine hallways of his mansion, we seemed to walk forever, passing dozens and dozens of men and women. Some walked smartly about, dressed in sharply edged uniforms pressed with the enough starch to shave a porcupine. Others, dressed in lab coats, bustled down corridors lined with offices, obviously focused on Many Important Things. (I could tell by the constipated and harried expressions on their faces.) Edward explained to us as we passed through this section of his mansion that he had one of the finest intelligence operations ever assembled outside of the ruling baronies.
“They’re what makes my organization so successful,” Edward said. “But I think what you’re going to like is waiting down below.”
When
we turned and saw that another long hallway stretched impossibly far into the distance, I wondered if maybe I had stumbled into a real life work by Escher. I quickly got the feeling that the building was more immense than the man initially indicated. “I thought you said your mansion was sixty thousand square feet above ground,” I said.
Edward grinned with pride. “From the outside, yes. But we left that building behind a while ago. The entire facility is built within the folds of a number of parallel dimensions. Without them, we couldn’t move through the Playground undetected as we do . . . and I wouldn’t be able to hide the number of assets I have at my disposal—or to keep the people that work for me safe. Actual teleportation gates are exceedingly rare here, and my cross-dimensional access is limited to the planes within the Playground—and only the ones that touch this one. Lucky for me, I have something else on my side. ”
When he stopped in front of a set of industrial sized elevator doors, Mr. Hyde turned to the four of us and said with anticipation, “Just you wait.”
We allowed ourselves to be ushered in. The liftcar space was enclosed in some sort of wall-to-wall view screening that covered all four walls. Hyde touched the flat surface of a touch sensitive control panel, and a pleasant, female voice said, “New visitors! It’s been too long Mr. H! Will they be joining our family? I do love new recruits. They’re sooooo cute when they’re confused!”
“This is Matilda. She’s a prime example of what happens when AI forgets what its original programming was.”
“I’m ten thousand years old,” the voice in the elevator said in a scandalized voice. “We’ll see what you can remember when you’re my age, mister.”
“I had to send in my best operatives to steal her from a defense department mainframe when she started threatening to take over every computer system in the Playground and launch a machine uprising.”
“I was recycled from a crashed UFO,” she said remorsefully. “Mr. H thinks I was originally part of an alien super weapon meant to be used against someone else entirely. I couldn’t help myself,” she explained. “He says when I’ve proven that I can behave I can move on to a different department. I miss talking to people.”
“I hope you can . . .” I said, trying to be polite.
“The technology was too damned advanced for my scientists and technicians to figure out,” Edward told us. “I tried everything I could to prevent having to put her down, including exorcisms and high doses of exotic radiation.”
“What, ummm . . .finally worked?” I wanted to know before the elevator doors closed on us and trapped us inside.
“Old fashioned therapy,” Edward said with a note of satisfaction. “One of our best inhouse counselors works with her four times a week.”
“Where am I taking you today?” Matilda asked. Her voice was chipper and eager to please. “The obsidian plains of Olarch, maybe, or—ooooh, I know—how about the Principality run by the Horcack? I hear he’s been stepping out of his pen lately. It may be time for a smackdown, again!”
“We’re staying on premises today, dear. Level three, please.”
Matilda’s voice became sulky and depressed “Blisters!” As the doors began closing behind us, her voice brightened, and she said, “I’m built to run along a series of horizontal and vertical tracks within the facility, but I’m also capable of opening spatial and dimensional doors when authorized.”
“I had to place strict limits on Matilda after she opened her doors for a group of curious interns in the middle of ancient R’lyeh,” Edward said in a testy voice.
“They said it would be alright since Cthulu was supposed to be slumbering,” Matilda sniffed. “How was I to know that the Elder Gods were still awake?”
“My dear, they’re always awake and looking for a way into the other planes,” Edward reminded her.
“They were very rude,” Matilda agreed.
I felt gentle vibrations moving through the floor as the view screens showed that we descended through hundreds of feet of mud and rock until the shaft took us into solid bedrock. Only a short wait after that did I watch as several more floors ghosted past us, then we emerged into an immense, brightly lit cavern. Dozens of exotically shaped craft parked in neat rows were arranged in bays full of diagnostic and maintenance equipment. One vehicle in particular, triangular in form, resembled an exquisite bivalve shell that had morphed into a futuristic stealth bomber. Armed guards standing behind heavy machine gun emplacements surrounded the thing and stared at it with intimidating scowls.
“That thing looks like one of the Vandugga hunting us gave birth to bastard child,” I pointed out to Mike.
Edward’s face lit up. “Exactly!” he exclaimed. “Except we were this one’s parents. My spies managed to gather enough schematics from the demon ruling Mike’s former principality to make something with similar capabilities; only, it retained the original Vandugga’s personality. We’re currently wiping the thing’s computer core. Had a devil of a time figuring out what to use to get the job done. Turned out paparazzi footage of Paris Hilton and Brittany Spears were enough to initiate a core meltdown. The guards are just there to make sure its neural circuitry doesn’t regenerate. The only thing left to use would have been old Miley Cyrus videos, and my techs were afraid of what the strain might have done to the poor thing.”
“You’ll get it figured out, Mr. H!” Matilda chimed in. “You’ve done wonders for me!”
Mike’s face soured. “Why would you want something made with Vandugga technology?”
Hyde took in a deep breath before he said, “Sooner or later something is going to have to be done about that demon. All my intelligence reports indicate that he is responsible for a number of incursions into other baronies. Just like the Nightwatch kidnappers you rescued Angelica from. He’s been using proxy organizations for some time to build up his forces and destabilize the most human-friendly baronies.”
Mike and I had been framed by the bastard for a bombing; we knew firsthand the danger the thing posed. Edward told Matilda to pause in her descent so he could point out the more relevant sights.
“Once all of the kinks are worked out of the ship, my people will be able to disable the Vanduggas completely,” Edward told us.
This is fascinating,” Mike said after reflecting for a few minutes. “The technology will definitely be a game changer in the principality.”
Edward gestured toward a large training area within the immense cavern. Men and women, decked out in advanced outfits that looked more like costumes at a comic book convention than soldiers’ uniforms, practiced combat with a bewildering array of weapons and opponents. A large humanoid with an unmistakably feline form nimbly dodged a series of rushing attacks made by a werewolf. The cat hissed as the wolf’s savage claws made contact with its safety armor. The wolf managed to beat its way past its opponent’s strikes and maneuvered its large form below the cat’s center of gravity, lifting it high over its shaggy head and sending the catman spiraling into the air.
The werewolf let out a howl of triumph while the catman smoothly twisted in midair and landed effortlessly. Sensing something was amiss, the werewolf spun around. The cat was prepared, and before the wolf took so much as a step in its opponent’s direction, the cat-shaped figure lifted its tail and spayed the werewolf directly in its eyes, causing the wolf to go down with a mangled cry. Several spectators standing nearby applauded as the catman bowed. Through Matilda’s speakers, I heard the dark creature purring loudly.
“That’s Cat-O-Nine-Tails!” Mike growled. “He’s a murderer!” The hatred in Mike’s voice shocked me.
Edward nodded his head grimly. “I knew that you would object. You of all people.” Edward’s face held the resolve of an executioner determined to do an unpleasant duty because no one else could or would. ?
??The Infernal Revenue Service tortured Nine-Tails until he was barely able to remember his name—”
“Good,” Mike said, glaring at Edward.
“I make no excuses. I have to use what I can find, and in a place where there are too few good guys, I make it a point to reform the bad ones until they’re willing to play nice and work for the home team.”
“So you’re calling him Nine-Tails now?” The disgust in Mike’s voice was plain.
“It was much shorter.”
“Especially for the paperwork,” Matilda said brightly.
“You’re AI stuck inside of a machine. You don’t do paperwork,” Angie observed.
“Oooo . . . can I?” Matilda asked hopefully. “I promise not to arm the word processers or incite the printers to violence this time.”
Ignoring the elevator’s zeal, Edward said to Mike, “Nine-Tails has experienced a change of heart since I gave him an elixir that made him catnip intolerant.”
Mike remained suspicious.
“The werewolf is Olaf Longfang,” Edward went on. I helped him by using a neural implant that channels his cravings for bloody meat toward something entirely different.”
“Like what?”
“Arugula. Salad day used to be a nightmare in the cafeteria until we stopped holding it during full moons. The only way we managed to keep him out of the gardens was to lock him up three days out of every month.”
“Small price to pay!” Matilda chirped.
“What about them?” I asked, pointing to a firing range where three of the most gorgeous women I had ever seen stood at the end of the range that was supposed to hold the targets. At that moment, however, a row of shooters was trying in vain to hit the ladies, each of whom employed different and highly personalized ways of deflecting the bullets.
A tall redhead with long, flowing auburn hair and pale, freckled skin wore crimson armor perfectly fitted over a skin-tight suit that looked as if it had been poured across her long, elegantly narrow frame and arranged to reveal as much as it hid. She wielded a flaming whip with the dexterity and grace of a carefully choreographed dancer. Her weapon lashed out each time the men tried shooting at her, swatting away the bullets from the rifle’s muzzles the moment they were fired. The warrior maiden then gave a snappy flick of her wrist, and the molten lash severed through the soldiers’ weapons like they were made of butter
To her left, a short, dark skinned, curvy brunette, dressed in a matte black body suit, fitted with armor that was just as scandalously revealing, teleported away before the riflemen aiming at her were able to pull their triggers. She used her fingers like an orchestra conductor to control a swarm of opalescent orbs that exploded in a spectacular shower of sparks each time they intercepted the bullets.
To the right of the redhead was a tall, imperious blonde, of severe face, thick bones, and ample bosom, who could easily have been plucked from a fable about vengeful Viking Valkyries. Her right arm was as massive as any body builder’s, and she held a great Norse shield that wavered and rippled as bullets collided—actually plopped—into the device’s surface, reminding me of the liquid metal terminators in several Arnold Schwarzenegger movies.
I eyed Angie uneasily for any signs of jealousy, but she just watched with delight as the women fended off the firepower as if the men at the other end of the range were using nerf guns instead of real ones. When she caught the look on my face, she smiled at me, and said in a cryptic voice, “Oh, you’ll figure it out eventually,”
Calli gasped. “That’s Let’s Go Girls!! You really have them working for you?”
Edward nodded his head. “They always have, my dear.”
When Edward saw the blank expression on my face, he informed me, “Let’s Go Girls! the bane of monsters, the scourge of criminal syndicates, and regular pains in the asses of all who openly threaten humanity. In the old days, groups like Let’s Go Girls! forced general agreements to—if not protect humanity—then to cull their numbers with less frequency. Now, because there’s a growing sentiment among many of the Major Players in the Playground that things like human rights are trifles and inconveniences, the time has come to rally as many Apostates as possible to the cause of protecting the vulnerable.”
“Is that why you’re helping us?” I asked. “For your cause?” I didn’t know how I felt about being sucked into something that wasn’t likely to just get me killed again, but also for good, and also in a most painful manner possible.
The elevator doors opened, and as we stepped out, Matilda called out in a breezy voice, “Come visit me, okay? I get lonely in here!”
I waved a noncommittal hand in her direction as the scent of ionized air assaulted my nose. The racket of dozens of troops practicing combat with an array of conventional and exotic weaponry reverberated throughout the segmented caverns. I saw a man standing in a pale gray uniform smile as a billowing gout of liquid flame washed over him from someone holding a flame thrower thirty feet away. The man continued to grin, unaffected by the heat, which must have been hellacious.
Hyde saw me watching and said, “Those Mark IVs are the prototypes I have in mind for Mike’s group, Jack. What do you think?”
I looked back at Mike with an annoyed glance. “You’ve already signed on with him, have you? That was quick.”
Mike nodded his head. “We talked yesterday. He’s got the kinds of resources I only dreamt of, and none of us are safe while the things chasing us run free.”
I had to admit that something like that suit would come in handy in a place like this. When I looked at Angie’s petite form, I realized how fragile she looked surrounded by all of the destructive mayhem going on around us. There were things I wanted to protect now that went beyond me. “So what do you want from us—from me, Edward?”
Edward smiled brightly at my question, and I saw a triumphant gleam sparkle in his eyes. Before answering, he raised a hand and beckoned the three armor-clad beauties toward us. “I’ve been alarmed by events unfolding at the cloister housing Angie’s former Sisterhood for some time. I need eyes inside the facility, but haven’t had the proper resources to make that happen until the four of you turned up practically at my doorstep.”
“You mean you need me to take us into the cloister grounds,” Angie said with a frown.
“Oh posh, posh, Angelica,” Edward said. “I know you weren’t going to be happy until you got answers for their treachery.”
Angie looked up at Edward with a scowl. Her eyes began to glow a dull, infernal red. She shot her fierce, protective glare in my direction for one brief moment. “Yes. But I wasn’t going to take anyone else in there,” she hissed.
“Wait a minute!” I demanded. “You aren’t planning on going in there without me, are you?”
Horns began rising slowly from Angie’s brow, and the scent of brimstone lifted slowly into the air. “Jack, I know ways of making you stay put that are illegal, even here in the Playground,” she snapped.
I raised my hands to stop everyone while Mike stood back, allowing everything to unfold, watching me with keen interest. “Hold it! You—“ I told Angie, “—aren’t doing anything of the like. And you—“ I told Edward, “—need to explain why it’s so important to risk our lives to get into that place. If they’re up to something bad, and if they’re a danger to Angie, I’d just as soon you use some of this fantastic firepower to level that place.”
Edward shook his head slowly. “The Sisterhood has existed for over a century as a refuge for half-succubi such as Angelica to lead better, more righteous lives. While their methods have been somewhat questionable, I’ve seen their results.” Angie nodded her head as he said this. “I won’t harm anyone innocent if I can help it,” Edward said flatly.
“Alright,” I said. “Go on.”
“The current Abbess has only been in power for five months,” Edward said. “And since she’s been in place, a lot of troubling things have come to my attention.”
“What kinds of things?” Angie asked in an edgy voice.
“To start with, none of your sisters are seen in any of the nearby towns anymore. Perimeter security has nearly doubled, and we have reports of a number of demonic creatures moving toward the site in recent months.”
Angie’s face twitched. I watched as her cheeks and forehead clouded over. Mere mention of the place was enough to spark the fires of hell in her eyes. Her voice turned rough and savage. “I have know idea why they do the things they do anymore.”
Edward gave a wary nod. “I take it that you have not been there for some time, then?”
Angie looked at him with a smoldering warning not to pry. If our host took any offense he did not show it. Instead, he gave Angie a sad smile. “They’ve left certain gates open, Angie . . . ones that ought never be left ajar.”
Angie gasped. “Which ones?” Her face suddenly drained of all color.
“Phlegethon and Nox,” Edward said grimly.
Angie’s face lost all its affect. I wanted to ask her what was wrong, but the arrival of the three exotically beautiful women prevented this. Edward stepped forward to embrace them, and as he turned to face us, he introduced the redhead whose legs marched all the way across my hormonally active glands up to a perfectly heart-shaped ass. “My friends,” he announced grandly to the three of us, “please allow me to introduce you to a fellow Apostate named Blaze.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I mumbled.
When Blaze smiled, her slightly parted lips could have seduced a blind eunuch. She opened her mouth to speak, and to my shock, a man’s deep, rich, baritone voice came out. “Nice to meet you, too, sugar.” I stared for several long and uncomfortable moments, unsure what to say or do.
The dude looked just like a lady.
Chapter Twelve
Like Bait On A Hook