Lost Time Page 2

  “All of them?” I asked, feeling a tear leave my left eye.

  “That’s what the stories say, Mr. Azarel. Where are you from?”

  I froze. What could I tell her? I barely knew enough about my newfound situation to stay sane. Everything within me wanted to shout out and ask what was going on, but I had to keep that silenced. I heard a voice in my head, one unfamiliar to me say, Time will reveal all.

  Shocked by this presence, I instinctively yelled, “Ageg!” and pointed the bow to my right, where Thead was. He failed to react to my bow. I searched the area with my mind, trying to locate the voice’s source, but nothing showed up. I willed the bow to vanish and frowned.

  “Are you okay?” Perdita asked.

  I turned to her. “Thought I felt something,” I said.

  “Oh. Are we safe?”

  “Yes. For now.”

  “Thank you. I thought we were going to die.”

  “It’s what I’m here for.”

  “Is it? You seem…out of place,” she commented.

  “You’re very astute. I…don’t know why I’m here or how I got here. I’m lost, in other words. This Vice City—are we really two miles away from it?”

  “Yes. Why? It’s not like you’d be crazy enough to go there, right?”

  I smiled sheepishly. “Crazy is a relative term. I need to find out what’s going on here, so I’m going to try and infiltrate for a bit.”

  “You can’t do that!” Perdita protested. “You’ll get killed! They’ll make you a part of the Feast!”

  “Statistically speaking, I imagine I have odds enough to avoid being selected. The Sanguine Collective’s not stupid. They always leave a human population high enough to propagate itself to replace what they use. Besides, I’m fresh blood; maybe some newness will make them think I can liven up the local gene pool.”

  “You’re really going to do this?”

  “Yep. It’s my job.”

  “No it isn’t anymore. Whatever ties you had before are irrelevant now. Humans are nothing but cattle to them! Come with us. We’re going to the Free-Zone. It’s the only safe place left in America. But stay away from Vice City. If you go there you’ll die.”

  “Then that’s a risk I have to take. Listen, Perdita: You don’t know this, because very few people in my time knew we existed either, but Sentinels don’t give up. We have a saying we have to recite when we join up: ‘Ex nihilo nihil fit—Nothing comes from nothing.’ You know what that means?”

  She shook her head.

  “Inaction leads to nothing happening. The Greeks and Romans used the phrase a little differently, but its new meaning still applies here. For as long as I’ve lived, that maxim has been bashed into my thick skull, just so I could understand its meaning. As a Sentinel, it is my job to protect that which the good Lord has told me to. We weren’t established to sit around and do nothing all day, because then we’d be squandering our God-given abilities. Because of this, I’ll charge head on into any situation that needs my attention, because I have to protect creation, and if anything threatens the balance set forth since the beginning of time, then I destroy it. I will never back down and I will never give up. Which way to Vice City?”

  Perdita sighed, but pointed to the right. I tipped my hat to her. She gave me one last look before she grabbed her belongings and hurried out of the room.

  “It’s a lost cause,” she said. “Maybe saving us was a lost cause too.”

  “Helping those in need is never a lost cause,” I said, smiling.

  “We shall see,” Thead said, speaking for the first and only time as Perdita and he left the gas station behind.

  Chapter 2

  I’m not a big fan of walking long distances. With the proper amount of time and preparation, I like to cook up a good old teleportation invocation and get there in a flash. When that’s not an option, I like running, because that means I’ll get there sooner. But on that day, I decided it would be a better idea to walk to Vice City.

  Vice City. The very name was wrong. It was supposed to be Corpus Christi. The Gray Forum had named the city years ago, back when we were still mostly involved with the Republic of Texas, trying to liberate them from an Aztec sorcerer that had taken a hold of the Mexican government. (Or so I was told, seeing as I was nowhere close to being born yet.)

  The Gray Forum was the governing body of all Psionics and Sentinels in the world. Our archives stated that the Forum had been around ever since the reign of Tiberius. In their rare dealings with “mundanes” they had told President Sam Houston that they needed it to set up a base of operations—from which they could protect humanity from supernatural threats. My mother had given birth to me there; I had trained there for over twenty years. My family (mother aside) were noted across the world for being strong Sentinels. We were the protectors of creation, and support to the Psionics.

  Psionics were the more powerful members of the Gray Forum, who were better equipped at performing invocations than even the greatest of Sentinels. The main difference being that Sentinels were meant to act as guardians for Psionics, so that they had enough time to whip up a spell that could level entire cities if they were focused. (Not that we couldn’t, it was just harder.) All of us were designated as Christened—having abilities given by God so that we could defend His creations. Any person with Christening talent was brought to the Gray Forum so they could learn how to use their abilities wisely. There were a few bad eggs that squandered their talents, but for the most part the Gray Forum was filled with people who wanted to protect the world.

  But now they were gone. Except for me, and I had no clue as to why, or how. I knew that I had seen them recently. Their memories were fresh in my mind, but this war that was mentioned earlier was an anomaly.

  I saw my father in my mind’s eye: silver-haired, charming smile, and a sword in his hand, the main weapon of Sentinels. He was telling me something—it was a decision that had surely been something life shattering, because he had a cross expression on his face, one he never had unless he was disappointed or upset. What was it? What had made him act that way?

  I shook my head. None of this was making any sense. What was a man to do? I didn’t understand.

  Maybe because you’re not supposed to understand it yet, the voice from earlier said, as I brought out my silver knife to defend myself.

  I checked my surroundings. I was alone on the road, which hadn’t had anything close to maintenance in about a hundred years. The moon was dim, so the lighting was almost nondescript, and my eyes were at a disadvantage, enhanced senses or not. Oddly enough, though, there appeared to be a huge column of flame to the south, but it was so far away from me that I disregarded it as a fantasy.

  The voice was commanding and father-like in its tone, almost as if the speaker expected me to listen to him without question, yet left enough leeway to give me time to evaluate his purpose there. It was a very perplexing, contradictory voice. Clearly the one behind it was powerful, to the point where he was not afraid of me or anything I could try to use against him.

  “Who’s there?” I asked.

  Oh, come on, the voice said. Can’t you do better than that? I mean, really—if I were the monster I’d have killed you by now. “Who’s there?” You might as well be signing off your chances at appearing in the sequel.

  So he was a smart aleck, whoever this voice belonged to. That I could deal with.

  You got that right, kiddo, the voice said. And before you ask, yes, I can read your thoughts. I could read everything, but I don’t do that, so I settle for surface thoughts to be polite.

  “So, are you going to tell me who you are and what you want?” I asked.

  Why thank you for asking, Blake. My name’s Nathaniel David Parker. Call me Nathan, though. It makes me happy. I’m your bona fide guide to the apocalypse.

  “The Apocalypse!” I shouted, panicking.

  Relax, kid, relax. Just a turn of phrase. A cute description of the post-apocalyptic world you ended up in. No need
to take it so seriously. For now, at least.

  “Okay then, Nathan, why are you talking to me and who are you?”

  Good questions. Like I said, I’m your guide. I’ll be popping in from time to time to talk to you when the moment’s right. As for why, well, let’s just say I have my reasons. All good of course. I have no intention of wreaking havoc on you or your world.

  “How deliciously vague,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  Aha! I love it! Yes, yes, you were a good choice. He does choose them well. Okay, let’s cut the small talk. My purpose here right now is to let you know that I’m on your side and willing to help out. However, my ability is limited, because I have restrictions placed on me, just like we all do. Your current plan is to head to Vice City, correct?

  “Yes.”

  Good. Continue doing so. I shall be in contact at the right moment. Oh, and Blake, you need to set your standards higher.

  “Hey—Wait! That’s not good enough! Nathan! Answer me!”

  Silence greeted me. I held a hand up to my face. Perhaps I was going crazy. Who knew how long I’d been out before I’d appeared before the gas station? Perhaps I was just hallucinating or suffering from dehydration or something.

  No, I thought, it’s not like that at all. You know the feeling of someone else in your mind. Whoever this Nathan guy is, he was here and you were talking to him. It’s not just some random moment that happened spontaneously. There is a purpose behind what just happened; you just don’t know it yet.

  I looked out across the broken road, seeing what light Vice City offered in the distance. Deciding I needed something to take my mind off what I’d just felt, I figured it’d be a good idea to enter the city filled with vampires that would like nothing more than to leech my emotions away.

  Chapter 3

  Vice City certainly lived up to its name. At the first checkpoint, I was greeted by the sights and sounds of thousands of people constantly yelling and whooping. None of it pleasant.

  The first thing I saw was a man being accosted by a Sanguine Collective agent, who was pressing him against the side of a wall as she kissed him. Unseen by the normal people in the area were the waves of energy she sucked from him, which—judging by the orange color—must have been the man’s greed. Beside them, a cheerful human couple walked by obliviously. A security officer with a stun baton stood idly by, looking up the skirt of a girl who couldn’t be more than fifteen, but the girl grinned, revealing a set of fangs.

  I grimaced. None of this should be happening. We had rules against it. The Gray Forum had allowed groups like the Sanguine Collective to exist only because we simply didn’t have the manpower to take them out—we did have other creatures to fight too. I remember all the nights I’d see my father come back from a mission only to be upset that he’d failed to protect someone. To mitigate this, we had treaties with every single group in the world, limiting them so that they did not get too strong, while we, in turn, stayed out of their ordeals. It wasn’t something we were proud of.

  But now we were gone, and it looked like there was no one left to enforce the laws we had set up to protect the world from the things that go bump in the night.

  I walked up to the man in charge of the checkpoint and offered a complacent smile.

  “Hello, sir,” I said, tipping my fedora to him.

  “Your name?” he asked, not looking up from the forms in front of him.

  “Harry Dresden.”

  “Reason for visit?”

  “Thought I’d check out the Feast.”

  “Voluntarily?”

  “Of course.”

  “Do you, Harry Dresden, sign away your rights as a citizen from your country of origin in order to participate in this magnificent event? You will be unable to apply for asylum in embassies, plea for insanity if tried in court, or wear the uniform of an officer of the peace.”

  I frowned. Lying to the man was wrong, but even though I had offered him a false name, I would still be expected to follow any oath or verbal contract I had made. It’s one of the downsides to being a Sentinel. In His divine wisdom, the good Lord gave us the ability to safeguard His creation, but in so doing made sure to place restrictions on us, so that we were never too powerful. A Sentinel’s word was binding. If I said I would do something, then I had to do it, no questions asked. Of course, if we agreed to something and didn’t know we had false information, then we were let off the hook, seeing as we weren’t willingly lying. If I went back on my word I risked losing my connection to my powers, which could leave me on the same level of a normal man my age, or cause me to go insane. The Big G’s a stickler for doing what’s right for some reason.

  “Yes,” I said, praying that I hadn’t made a mistake.

  “Good. Now I must ask you to give me all of your weapons.”

  I tensed up. I was hardly defenseless without the varied arsenal I had hidden in my trench coat and other clothes, but I wasn’t about to advertise that fact or give them up to this pissant file clerk.

  “No,” I said, sternly. “I was promised entry and safe passage. My superiors told me that even the restrictions placed on me would not apply to my weapons.”

  “Ah, you must be one of the Free-Zone ambassadors,” he said.

  “What gave it away?” I asked.

  “The undeserved sense of accomplishment, lack of candor, and tacky costume.”

  “What can I say? It gives me character.”

  He chuckled, but it lacked mirth. “Your weapons will remain with you, as per our agreement with the President, and the Court. Any use of these weapons against a member of the Sanguine Collective will be seen as an act of aggression on the part of the Free-Zone, and will be used in negotiations as means to enact economic sanctions. Is this clear?”

  “Crystal.”

  He looked up from his papers and eyed me for a moment. “I see,” he said, looking back down to stamp a passport. “Welcome to Vice City, Mr. Dresden.”

  I accepted the passport, and placed it in the right inward coat pocket, as I touched the other item in there to hide it from curious onlookers. Putting my hands in my outward pockets, I walked into the city and resumed scowling.

  The scene will act a little differently on Judgment Day, but lying about my name had been a necessary evil. Names, like many things in this life, hold power over you. If someone knew your whole name, then they could take control of you if they had the right amount of power and know how. Even if you were the purest human in existence, a being in full control of your name could cause you to commit atrocities under their control, and you would be unable to do anything about it. Until I was in the mood to trust someone, I would never let them know any bit of my true name, especially with a pack of genocidal vampires in the fair city. I had offered my name earlier to the vampires at the gas station because I knew I couldn’t lose. Whether that’s just arrogance or truth is open for debate. My mother always told me I had too much of both, and needed a cooler head. This coming from the woman who’d once entered a room full of demons with nothing but a squirt gun filled with holy water.

  As for the name I chose, well, I’m a fan. Besides, I figured no one around here would recognize the reference anyways.

  I scanned the area around me, sure to lower my power level, so that no one would even suspect my double nature. The last thing I needed was for someone to figure out that there was a Sentinel around before I’d had a chance to recon the area. I needed to look inconspicuous, so I had to blend in with the crowd. My attire would make this attempt passable, as the Sanguine Collective tended to wear an assortment closely related to my garb. (The checkpoint officer’s comment to the contrary.) I had seen as much during my meeting with the two vampires at the gas station. Vampires tended to wear sunglasses back in my day, due to their eyes giving them away to Psionics, Sentinels, and mundanes alike. They had changed their fashion little in the past hundred years, so I’d be fine wearing them. Even if someone asked to see my eyes, they could assume that I was just an emissary of the
Sanguine Collective, which meant I was off-limits and therefore not to be trifled with. This fit in perfectly with what I had in mind, as I had no wish to let anyone know who I was just yet. If anything, I could claim to be parts of several other groups to mess with their heads.

  As the great Sun Tzu had said, “All warfare is based on deception.”

  Most of all I needed to recall everything I knew about the Sanguine Collective. There were at least three vampire groups that I knew of, all of which had something that made them different than the other. The Collective was the strongest group of vampires before the Gray Forum had fallen. They were unlike your typical Hollywood vampire. The Collective was a separate branch of the species that fed on human emotion, be it fear, anger, greed, or lust.

  The argument could be made that each guild was empathic in nature, but it wasn’t something that was accepted by a lot of members of the Gray Forum. For lust vampires, they tended to be unbelievably attractive to both sexes, luring them in with primal needs that they alone could satisfy, at least until they killed you after sleeping with you. Fear vampires did their best to stalk their prey, baring their fangs and showcasing their speed and agility to trap anyone they were after so that they could feed off of the trepidation of the victim. Greed vampires tended to hang around ambitious people with lots of money or power, from which they could suck energy from almost passively. Anger vampires feasted on those that they tortured endlessly, making their poor captives supply them with energy as the vampires exacerbated them.

  There were reports that some vampires were able to use two or more of these emotions to empower themselves, but if this was true, I’d never seen it. Although it was true that they could suck blood like other vampire species, the Collective found it to be gauche and unappetizing, and for the most part wouldn’t partake of it. If anything, those that did consume blood did so as a form of showing off what they could do to others if trifled with. I’d seen many corpses during my time as a Sentinel that had been abused for weeks on end by several varieties of empathic torture. Very rarely did people survive attacks and the only survivors I had ever seen were Psionics or Sentinels that possessed the mental discipline to fight off the effects, but even they could be worn down by torture.