Pandora's Box: Book 3 of the Crystal Raven Series

Every dawn since coming to the fortress, Alvaro had watched Ember feed her pests. It was a ritual that often made her miss her own breakfast, requiring the preparation of four different and distinct meals that he doubted the beasts even noticed. That first morning after the girl had left, all four had shown up at the crack of dawn looking for their breakfast. The mashed banana Ember had made him serve her ‘monkey’ had gone untouched, but this morning he hadn’t bothered. They couldn’t afford to waste food when they did not know how long the siege would last, and fresh fruit of any kind was already in short supply. Besides, the little bugger preferred meat, the fresher, the better.

Every dawn except this one. Where they went any other time, he was too busy to care. But now, when he needed to feed them as he had promised, Alvaro missed them. He wandered off to find Angel to see if he could convince him to come on a hunt with him. After all, the promise was not his alone.

He found Angel talking to Drake. “You two up for a little hike?”

“What’s up?” Drake asked. He had taken to carrying a high powered rifle loaded with the wooden bullets Elliot had cooked in his lab.

“Ember’s brats are missing,” Alvaro muttered.

“And that’s a bad thing?” Drake laughed.

“It is when you promised the girl you would take care of them,” Angel sighed. An angel babysitting demons, did it get any lower. If any of his boys back in heaven heard about this, he would never be able to show his face in the hood again. “Lead the way.”

“I’ll come,” Drake replied, hefting his rifle. “It’s been boring around here the last couple of days.”

The first place they looked, naturally, was the village. Having already dug up trouble there, it seemed likely her beasts would come back here to dig up another dark djinn. Or maybe Hsatan himself. From the recent tracks and dozens of freshly dug holes, they had returned here at some point that night. Whether that was within the last hour or eight hours ago, Alvaro could not say. Besides, at their dawn feeding, he never saw them from one moment to another, and could not say where or how they spent their time. As long as they were not eating their munitions or food, he was satisfied. But then again, wherever it was they went, it was somewhere they could cause the maximum amount of damage. It was the only thing he could be sure about when it came to these four.

“I thought I saw them in the minefield early this morning,” Drake offered helpfully.

Alvaro looked at Angel, who shrugged. They had promised, after all. He chose a set of tracks and began to follow them as they wended their way around the far side of the fortress and off towards the siege line. At one time, there was an outer wall anchored to the far cliff, much of its length now toppled and lying in mounds of rubble. Now the Brotherhood had sewn much of its length with traps and reinforced the line with two bunkers. It still left plenty of open lands for the three dogs to wander out to the far side, away from anyone who would interfere in their games.

It figured. The lower hillsides offered good hunting, especially to two hounds with a taste for vampyre. With the way Alvaro’s luck was running lately, they had probably wandered into the vampyres’ main lair and were currently in a pitched battle. And there was no way he was getting away without going toe-to-toe with the vampyres’ sole surviving tank. Unless Tangerine had eaten it already. But then he would probably projectile vomit its shells all the way back to the fortress, and Alvaro would learn a new dance that involved losing most of his limbs. Why wouldn’t April let them sell Ember and her menagerie on eBay? The Brotherhood could use the money.

They had been fortunate enough to have salvaged the two tanks after the Soul Leech’s attack, even had a crew to train a second – compliments of those in the Brotherhood with previous military experience. One now sat parked in the fortress’ compound, where Tangerine had twice chewed the tread from its track. They passed the second on their way through the ruined wall. One fender had a few chew marks on it. Unfortunately, they couldn’t bring it with them. At least one of them would come running, like shaking a box of treats when calling a cat. Alvaro took one last look back at it, sighed, and moved to catch up with his companions. Why couldn’t Ember collect mice or budgies? And didn’t girls her age still play with Barbies?

Because that would make his life too easy. Out in the foothills before the fortress, there were so many sets of tracks, each crisscrossing and meandering in so many directions it was obvious this was a favourite haunt of the Beast Crew. Hunting. What else could lure them out this way? Please let it be rabbits, Alvaro prayed, knowing it was a waste of breath. He had seen no real game since coming here – no rabbits, or lizards, or snakes, or whatever else would have called this area home. There was no sweet water, and so little vegetation, an emaciated mouse would have trouble finding enough to graze. So vampyres, Alvaro sighed.

Beyond the minefields, the hills were sun-baked and still. Nothing living seemed to stir. The land appeared flat, an optical illusion that hid a host of folds and gullies, a thousand places to hide. Standing on the crest of a hill and not seeing hide nor hair of the hounds meant nothing. They could be several hundred yards away, hidden from sight by the side of a hill. Or they could have wandered miles away, and were now scaring some peasant’s flock of goats to death.

“This is useless,” Drake complained, taking a long pull on his canteen. “You should try locking them up.”

“Where?” Angel challenged. “We’re rather short on steel doors, and they’d probably eat it if we had one. Did you miss the teeth marks on the tank?”

“They’re puppies, and they’re teething,” Drake mimicked Ember, and his companions smiled tolerantly.

A rocky spur attracted Alvaro’s attention. It was about a mile away as the crow flies, more like two over the rough terrain they had to cross. Providing they did not stumble upon a nest of vampyres, or turn an ankle on the rocky ground, or get bit by the one and only snake still living in the area. Alvaro could picture them all limping back to the fortress with swollen ankles and blisters. And the three hounds romping on ahead, all unexpended energy and mad dashes. They were only dumb animals, but you would never convince the vampyre that they did not do these things on purpose – especially after the youngest swallowed his priceless humidor of Cuban cigars.

On the far horizon, three dots drifted across their line of sight. It could only be the hounds. Any vampyres in the area would be hunkering down in some cave or crevice, hiding from the sun. Exactly where Alvaro wanted to be, Aiko’s magic cream or no. It was hot, and whether it was natural for this time of the year or a product of the crisis in the larger world, he did not like it. Vampyres belonged in a cool lair during the heat of the day, sipping on a blood cocktail, not playing dogcatcher.

As they drew closer to the rocky spur, they all recognized Huckleberry. Mounted on his back, carrying a spear and wearing a pot as a helmet, the imp rode like a pagan potentate. He drove his spear into one of the holes that pocketed the ground, pulling out something that wiggled and steamed. As he held it up to the sun, Strawberry dodged in, snapping his prize away. Further afield, Tangerine dug furiously at another hole, snapping at something with quick jaws. They watched as he caught it and dragged it hissing and clawing into the sun, where it began to smoke. Eaters of the Dead could not tolerate the sunlight, and some burst into flame at the slightest touch. Eating one before it disappeared required speed and determination that was comical to watch.

Pausing on the crest of a slight rise, the three studied their surroundings. Stretched out before them was a field dotted by thousands of holes, some of them as large as small craters.

“Is that what I think it is?” Drake croaked through a dry throat.

“I think we’ve discovered where the Eaters of the Dead were heading,” Angel confirmed.

“And it looks like they’ve been busy making more,” Alvaro added. “Every Dearg-Due must have been biting two or three victims a day for months.”

The lesser clans began life as humans. A human bit by one of the upper castes, like the Sanguinarians, survived the change to become a Nosferatu, Hupacabra or Loogaroo. Those bit by the Dearg-Due or Jaaracacas and who were not lucky enough to die became one of the three species of Eaters of the Dead, more beast than human. Vetals were the smallest, ghoul-like creatures like the ones the hounds were eating. Kuang-shi grew into massive beasts that seldom saw the surface, and were shunned even by their own kind. These creatures lived in the darkest, dank corners of a vampyre crèche, hunted and hunting until something larger ate them.

“Let’s get these pests home,” Alvaro suggested, “and see if anyone can figure out what to do about this mess.”

“Too bad Gwen’s gone,” Drake added. “She’d think up something extra nasty.”

“We don’t want to go that far,” Angel teased. “We’ll leave any nastiness to Ember’s beasties.”

At the moment, Strawberry and Tangerine were playing tug-a-war with a rapidly deteriorating carcass.

“Yeah,” Drake admitted, “that’s pretty nasty.” Not even a vulture would eat a Vetal.

Whistling for the hounds, Drake turned to join the other two on the way home. The dogs dropped their toy and came racing past, stopped several hundred yards ahead, and came racing back. At times like this, Drake could see why Ember saw them as a pair of over-sized puppies, and then they tore a chunk out of a car door or chowed down on a crate of grenades. That one made him wince thinking about it.

He wondered what they would be like when they were full-grown, furry tanks that used trains and bridges for chew toys. And where would Ember live? Certainly not in the city. The first time they pulled down one of the El trains, or dug up a subway, or ate a taxi….. The list went on and on, and the only result he could see was Ember being ridden out on a rail. And the Brotherhood couldn’t allow it.

At the fortress, Angel and Alvaro left Drake to feed the Beast Crew and went off to find April and the Choir command. Minutes later, they were huddled back in the half-ruined outbuilding, pouring over a map of the area Brother Jerome had drawn. It was a work in progress, and he wielded ink and pen now, filling in details as the two specialists described what they had found. With precise dabs, he added dots and hills to the area to the northeast of the fortress.

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to give you exact locations or numbers,” Angel teased.

Brother Jerome looked up, disappointed.

“Stop teasing the man,” April warned, “or I’ll make you go back and count.”

“That would be helpful,” Brother Jerome offered, “or at least some idea of the scope of the infestation.

“I’d say close to ten square miles and growing,” Alvaro supplied.

“A couple hundred pounds of napalm -.” Brother Austin began.

“Would probably just piss them off,” Brother Abdul concluded.

“Water,” the Wandering Jew countered. “Holy water, to be exact.”

“Unfortunately, we have no priests,” April pointed out, “and the Imams won’t bless the water.”

“No,” the Wandering Jew persisted, “but an angel could.”

“That would leave us with precious little drinking water.” Austin objected, “and for very poor return.”

The room fell quiet. They were out of options, and everyone there knew it.

“If they ever release that horde, they will run right over us,” Alvaro muttered.

“We can fall back into the maze,” April decided, “if it comes to that, but it won’t do the girls any good.”

“Let’s hope Gabriel returns in time.”