Dead Waters - Anton Strout [117]
“This is her weak?” Jane asked. “Geez. I’d hate to see her in tip-top shape.”
“No,” Mason said. “Once we raise Scylla and Charybdis takes control of her host, she will return to her full power. It took years to return her to her current state. I helped her recover and she promised in return to tell me dark secrets to assist me in pursuit of my rebirth.”
“At the expense of others,” the Inspectre reminded him.
“No,” Mason said. “Not at first, anyway. Originally I only twisted my students to the use of magic trying to make film come alive. Nefarious, but mostly harmless. I kept my grander plan for my youth a secret. When Charybdis was recovered enough to her satisfaction, she finally shared those dark secrets with me. I never knew she would want blood in return.”
“Oh, come, now,” the Inspectre said. “We both know that’s not true. You must surely have suspected. Even with what you had seen in your short time with the Department, you must have known that such a bargain would bear a heavy price.”
“Perhaps,” he said, admitting it with a slight smile, “but it is a price I’ve come to live with for the promise of rebirth.”
It was the Inspectre’s turn to smile, but there was a sadness to it.
“You can’t cheat death,” the Inspectre said.
“Oh, no?” Mason asked, turning to look at Aidan. “What about him? He seems to be doing quite well at it.”
“Make no mistake,” the Inspectre said. “Death even comes to their kind, even if it is staved off by supernatural means. Some give up wanting to live, some are struck down by vampire hunters, but eventually death comes to us all.”
“Hey!” Aidan said. “Not cool with all this talk about me dying, guys.”
Mason Redfield looked around for a way to escape as we argued in the growing fury of the storm, but there was none.
“Come, now, Mason,” the Inspectre said, walking after him. “Give yourself up. You can’t run anymore. You’re surrounded.”
Mason spun around, angry. “Are you happy growing old, Argyle? Are you?”
The Inspectre stopped. “Honestly, no,” he said, “but it has made me appreciate life all the more for what it is. We get one go-round, Mason. That’s all.”
“Well, not me,” he said, “and once I am finished carrying out Charbydis’s wishes, I intend to get right on appreciating my second one.”
“How are you helping her with the ritual?” I asked.
Mason fixed me with a sinister stare. “You shall see,” he said.
“No, Mason,” the Inspectre said, good and pissed. I had never seen him this angry. “This ends. . . now.”
As a group, our circle closed in on Mason Redfield. I held the business end of my bat up high, ready to swing. Redfield was close enough that I’d have no trouble dropping him if needed, but a second later that wasn’t even an option.
A blast of water shot up through the slats of the bridge itself, shattering some of its structure and flinging shards of it in every direction. The water wrapped itself in a wide circle around Redfield, rising up above him for several feet and staying around him like some bizarre waterfall feature at a mall. One thing was sure: Mason Redfield wasn’t responsible for it. Even he looked surprised to see it happening.
Inside the protective circle the water began to solidify until the woman in green stood by his side. Her hair swirled in the chaos of the growing storm.
“Nice Medusa effect,” I said.
“Wrong Greek monster, kid,” Connor said.
“Sorry.” I tested the wall of water with my bat. The rushing water threatened to tug my bat skyward from my hand, but I tightened my grip and pulled it back. Before I could do anything else, the woman’s voice boomed out into the night.
“Prokypto,” she said, holding her arms out and looking down through the bridge.
“What?” I said.
“It’s Greek,” Connor said. “Arise. She’s starting the ritual now!