Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Third Battle
Paddington was impressed: not only had Beck got the girl, potentially, but he’d found something that might just turn the tide.
“What now?” Beck asked, staring into the hole. “Do we go in?”
“Clarkson goes in,” Paddington said. “We stay here.”
“Why?”
“Because he can see in the dark.”
“You’re sure he isn’t with them?” Beck asked. “You’re putting a lot of trust into a vampire.”
“It’s okay, shorty,” Clarkson said. “I’ll come back alone.”
Clarkson disappeared into the gap they’d created. Beck went to close the manager’s door. “You should get back to work,” he told Suzi. “We don’t want anyone coming looking while we’re…”
“Finding a way to break into the castle?”
“Yeah. I’ll talk to you later?”
“Okay.”
Footsteps echoed away, the door closed, and they sat in silence for a while. Paddington leaned back in the manager’s padded leather chair. A bleep made him start, and he realised he’d closed his eyes. What was the noise? An alarm?
Oh. Beck had his mobile phone out. “Sorry,” he said, “checking messages. McGregor said they might be able to trace phones, but we’re not at the base and I had a minute to kill.”
“It’s fine.”
Except that, by Beck’s expression, it wasn’t.
“Everything okay?”
“I… I got a message. Arrived maybe ten minutes ago.” Paddington took the offered phone and tried not to be caught up with how thin it was and the lack of buttons – just a screen you touched to make it go – but he’d spent so long in Archi isolated from technology that it always gave him a little thrill.
The message contained only one sentence: “Demon, fulfil your purpose and we shall release Lisa.”
Right about when he read the final word, Paddington realised he hadn’t seen Lisa when he’d broken up the fight between Clarkson and Beck…
It felt like he’d been kicked in the gut. By a cow. He had no breath, no way to inhale. Everything hurt.
They’d taken her. Come right to the house, probably, and taken her.
Which meant that, among other, larger, problems, the vampires knew where the headquarters was.
Paddington got out of the chair and went to the gap in the secret door. “Clarkson!” he hissed down it.
“Yeah?” said a voice from only feet away. “It dips down then back up and ends after a few hundred feet. Puts it the right distance to the castle.”
“We’re leaving,” Paddington said.
“How do we close the wall?” Clarkson asked.
“We don’t. Come on.” As Clarkson and Beck hurried to keep pace, Paddington drew the radio from his pocket. “Truman! Search the house. Find Lisa.”
There was a brief pause, then, “I have Mitchell and Skylar searching. What happened?”
“Got a text.”
“Don’t put the battery in!” McGregor said.
“It’s out again now,” Beck said as they emerged on the dance floor. He gave Suzi a brief wave, but didn’t stop.
They’d just emerged onto the street when Truman radioed back, “She’s not here. Found the laundry door open.”
They climbed into the Team’s jeep. “The Andrastes have her,” Paddington said.
“They know where our base is,” Truman said. “We have to move.”
“Don’t bother. Why should they attack? They already have all the leverage they need.”
The next five minutes were tense, made tenser by the fact that the trip should have taken at least ten. Clarkson tore the jeep around corners and floored it along straights at double the speed limit. Then they were back at the house. Clarkson skidded the car to a halt and cranked on the handbrake; Paddington was already running to the door. He threw it open and two points of white light burned themselves against his retinas. The rest of the world remained black; just the two circles of white.
“Stand down!” said Truman.
The lights lowered from his eyes, so now Paddington was only battling the browny after-images. He could see Truman’s face, gaunt-looking cheeks, broad jaw, blond hair, almost-mean eyes. A man sunken by setback after setback.
But this wasn’t a setback to Paddington, it was his wife. Not a mission, not a game. He’d trade his life for hers in a second. Unfortunately, the deal was to trade Beck’s life for Lisa’s. And it looked like Truman had realised that, because his gaze fell on Beck as soon as he entered.
“We still don’t have a plan besides a direct assault,” Truman said.
“I do,” Paddington said. The troops were assembled and Paddington outlined the secret passage.
“So we’re sneaking in and taking her back?” Skylar asked.
“No,” Paddington said. “They’ll be on guard. We need a diversion and they’ve offered us one: I bring Joel’s dead body to the main gates.”
“Uh…” Beck said, stepping forward. “I’m assuming I’ll just be unconscious, not dead?”
“Sort of.”
His brother fidgeted. “Sort of unconscious? Or sort of… dead?”
“Both,” Paddington said. “You eat the Fruit of Life, then we… kill you in front of them—”
“I don’t like this plan,” Beck said. “I know I said earlier that I didn’t mind if I died, but I’ve reconsidered. Things have changed.”
“—and you won’t die.”
“What?”
“Just like the prophecy says. Once you’ve eaten the Fruit, you’ll be taken beyond death’s touch. You’re aware of my ambition – to fool the Andrastes and distract them – so you eat the Fruit and you’re taken beyond death’s touch. Also you herald redemption because this will bring back Lisa.”
“Oh,” Beck said.
“While we draw their attention to the front gate, everyone else comes in via the secret passage and tries to find Lisa.”
“It’s a big place,” Truman said.
“Clarkson, you’ll lead them to where they held you. Lisa will probably be in a cell nearby. If she’s still there, get her and get out.”
“What about you?” Truman asked. “How will you get out?”
“Need a distraction of your own?” Mitchell asked. “We still have a few explosives…”
“Won’t be necessary,” Paddington said. “Once they see that Joel was dead but doesn’t die – that he’s beyond death – the Andrastes will know we’ve fulfilled the other prophecy. That they’ve lost. They’ll let us go.”
“They don’t strike me as quitters,” Mitchell said.
“Consider the fight on Archi: once the Browns were dead, they gave up immediately. They proposed the truce. They’re not vindictive; they’re devout.”
“They’re vindictive today,” Curt said. The young werewolf had a point: this battle had become personal. Too many deaths on both sides.
“Only against werewolves,” Paddington said, “which is why you two will be guarding the entrance to the Crypt. Truman’s Team hasn’t killed anyone. They should be safe inside the castle.”
“So,” Skylar said, with a puzzled frown, “we’re breaking into the enemy stronghold hoping not to fight or kill them?”
“Oh yeah, this is definitely one of your plans,” Mitchell said to Paddington.
“Any objections?” Truman said.
“You’re sure I won’t die?” Beck said in his clear, enunciated way. Even discussing his own mortality he sounded like he was giving diction lessons. A simple, precise manner.
McGregor was consulting the notes he’d brought with him, many of which were fluttering to the carpet. “Paddington’s interpretation of the prophecy matches everything I’ve read: the Brothers can eat of the Trees without dying and the Fruit of Life should make you… sort of, slippery… to death.”
“‘Slippery’? Oh, well that makes me feel safer.”
“Death won’t be able to hold on to you,” M
cGregor said. “You slip through its grasp; I don’t know how else to describe it. Clearly special rules apply, but it doesn’t say what they are. You might be immortal or you might come back every time you die or you might only resurrect once. I don’t know. But you won’t die. You’ll live. James, just make sure that when you… kill Beck… you do it in full view of the vampires so they know you’ve fulfilled the prophecy. If you kill him out of sight and he resurrects immediately, it’s all for nothing.”
“Brutal execution right in front of them,” Paddington said. “Got it.”
Beck looked at his brother. “You’re sure about this? There is that other prophecy about you killing me.”
Paddington nodded and swallowed. “Yes, there is.”
“How do you know this won’t accidentally fulfil that one instead?”
“Because I’m not embittered by your victories or claiming your life as my own,” Paddington said. “But if you’re unsure, we’ll find another way.”
“Another way? To save your wife?”
“Yes.”
“What other way?”
“I don’t know, yet.”
Beck smiled. “That’s because you know there isn’t one.” He looked around with those deep-set eyes. Everyone looked back, some sympathetic or impressed, others more worried. If Beck wanted Truman to order him, he’d come to the wrong Team. This had to be his choice.
Beck’s gaze settled on Paddington again. “This is it. Do or die.” He nodded. “Let’s go rescue my sister-in-law.”