The Romulus Equation Page 13

  ‘Enjoy this,’ he hissed, his saliva dribbling onto her spine, ‘your last moment.’

  The attack lasted less than five minutes and the woman was on the verge of collapse. With his hunger almost satiated, Remus’s fangs pierced the back of her neck, spurting a fountain of blood onto the window pane. Ravenously, he devoured her.

  He had quenched his thirst for now, but to satiate it completely he would need a far more satisfying meal…

  Chapter XXIV

  The Temptation

  Cornelius Quaint was tiring with every step. The air was so thin that his group’s progress had become laboured. Quaint saw Romulus stop ahead of the group, holding his torch aloft. Its flame flickered erratically, its colour dancing between blue and green. Quaint became bewitched to such a degree that his eyes nearly leapt from their sockets.

  ‘Down!’ he yelled, snatching the torch from Romulus’s hands, throwing it with all his might behind him.

  A streak of green flame burst into life, shooting back across the tunnel roof. There was a tremendous whoosh of the air before the flame died out just as quickly as it had arrived.

  ‘Gas pocket,’ said Quaint, dusting himself down. ‘No more torches. We make the rest of the journey in the dark. Every man place your hand on the shoulder of the man in front of you.’

  ‘But… how will we be able to follow the map if we cannot see?’ Viktor asked.

  Romulus’s low voice spoke next. ‘My brother gives off a unique scent. I will simply follow my nose.’

  ‘How far is he?’ Quaint asked.

  ‘My lupine senses are acute but not that acute,’ Romulus replied. ‘We are close, my friend. That is all I can say for now. If you want a more accurate distance I must give in to my affliction… just for a time.’

  ‘Won’t that be dangerous?’ asked Quaint. ‘For you and for us, considering we’re in the dark!’

  ‘As deep under the surface as we are, I am shielded from the moonlight, but the transformation is still pulling at me. I will not submit, Cornelius!’ Romulus stamped his foot to affirm his point, but his torture was plain for all to see. Every moment wrenched at his soul, tearing his humanity from his grasp. It was like being on the verge of complete and utter abandon, the release inviting him, beckoning him towards it and it took all his strength to fight its pull.

  Viktor felt his way along the tunnel wall in the darkness, searching for a familiar set of broad shoulders. ‘Cornelius, what does he mean? What is his affliction?’

  Quaint spun around. ‘Oh, you were right earlier. He is a werewolf.’

  Viktor’s bushy moustache barely twitched. ‘Ah.’

  ‘Ah?’ asked Quaint. ‘Ah what?’

  ‘Nothing. Just Ah.’

  ‘What is wrong with you, Viktor? I tell you that Romulus is a werewolf and all I get is an “Ah”? Don’t you find the fact that he might grow fangs and fur and howl at the moon just a little implausible?’

  ‘Certainly not!’ Viktor trumpeted. ‘I have met werewolves before. In the Black Forest when I was a younger man. Fearsome looking woman, she was. Voracious appetite. All her body covered in fur.’

  ‘What makes you think she was a werewolf?’ asked Quaint.

  ‘She howled,’ said Viktor. ‘And almost took a bite out of me too.’

  ‘Your penchant for hirsute women notwithstanding, Viktor, isn’t it still a stretch of your imagination to accept that Romulus is a bloody werewolf?’

  Viktor rested his hand on Quaint’s shoulder. ‘Remind me to take you to my home village one day. There are many things in the forests that should not exist: witches, spirits, demons, and all kinds of nightmares. But considering our present course of action, we might need all the help we can get.’

  Chapter XXV

  The Bolt from the Black

  If Destine had expected Renard’s authority to create an unhindered pathway straight to Baron Remus, she was wrong. For all his bluster, he was still naught but a drone. No higher up the food chain than the men guarding the outside doors, and once they were through it came another pair of guards, these men dressed in dark red robes, their hooded faces completely in shadow. They carried long spears with three-pronged tips like tridents and they clashed them together to bar Destine’s progress. Neither spoke, nor did they need to. Their intent was all too clear.

  ‘We are expected,’ Renard told the men and they removed their spears, permitting the small band entry into the Hive.

  In truth, Destine had little in the way of a plan from here on. Her premonitions had warned her that Cornelius was soon to face great pain, and she had stumbled blindly into the fire to save him; ignoring the possibility that perhaps he could not be saved. Such was her devotion. Such was her love. Although not his birth mother, she had guided him and taught him, loved him, cared for him, and even cried with him. But Cornelius was no longer a child, she reminded herself. He was a grown man and quite capable of getting himself out of (and into) trouble. But this time things were different. What Cornelius was about to face was a far bigger challenge than anything he had faced before. Why had she come? What possible help could she be when the outcome was inevitable? She had convinced herself that she was the only one who could save him, but she could do nothing but pick up the pieces of his shattered world, just as she had done once before.

  Renard ordered Prometheus to stop as they came to a steep flight of carpeted stairs, quite at odds with the rest of the foundry. It was as if they had taken one step out of the darkness and into the light. Flaming torches were affixed to the wall, and large rectangular windows let the moonlight flood in. The stairs were not part of the original foundry’s design. Far too new, far too sumptuous.

  ‘The private quarters of the inner stratum lie up these stairs,’ said Renard. ‘I will guide you to Sirona.’

  ‘Who is this Sirona?’ demanded Destine. ‘We are seeking Remus!’

  Prometheus decided to add a little of his own persuasiveness, and he clamped his thick hand around Renard’s neck. ‘I don’t need all my fingers to squeeze, you know.’

  ‘The door at the far end!’ gasped Renard. ‘There you will find answers about Cornelius’s fate, I swear it!’

  ‘Aiden, release him!’

  ‘But, Destine, what if he’s lying?’

  ‘He is not,’ said Destine, suddenly ashen with fear. ‘I can sense it.’

  Renard grinned. ‘You’re almost there… aren’t you, Mother? You suspect… but you know that it cannot possibly be true. Now you’re beginning to see why I was so eager to guide you here. You and Sirona have so much in common.’

  The room was silent and still as Destine gingerly entered first. The thick curtains that draped from ceiling to floor held all the moonlight at bay. With torn strips of his scarf tied around his broken fingers, Prometheus virtually dragged Renard into the room and closed the door behind him, flopping the Frenchman down into a chair by the door.

  ‘My Lady?’ Renard called out.

  There was a stifled cough from the far end of the room and Destine took one cautious footstep at a time. As her eyes slowly adjusted, she made out the vague outline of a four-poster bed at the far end of the room.

  ‘Well, go on, Mother… she won’t bite!’ laughed Renard.

  Destine resumed her tentative steps, and had taken but one when there was a flash of amber light from a struck match. The flame glided towards the wick of a candle, illuminating the withered form of an old woman sitting in a wheelchair by the window.

  ‘Destine,’ said Lady Sirona, ‘I must say this is a surprise… but then I know how much you fortune-tellers love surprises.’

  ‘You!’ Destine gasped, her hand darting to her mouth.

  ‘Madame?’ asked Prometheus. ‘You… know this old bat?’

  ‘And look, you’ve brought company, how charming!’ chimed Sirona, her spirit evidently not as incapacitated as her physical form. ‘And rather uncouth company by the sounds of him. Monsieur Renard, I am glad to see that you are still alive.’

  �
��Only just,’ said Renard, hissing in pain as he rose to his feet, wincing with each limping step. ‘My Lady,’ Renard lifted his arm, displaying the seeping wound to his stomach, ‘I have been shot.’

  Sirona’s dry lips formed a wry smile. ‘Cornelius?’

  ‘Actually, it was my mother.’

  ‘And speaking of which… where is Cornelius? I expected him to be with you.’

  ‘My Lady, I… I was under the impression that he was already here. Is that not so?’

  ‘If he is, then he has yet to introduce himself,’ said Sirona. ‘What made you think he was here?’

  Renard jerked his head in Destine’s direction. ‘Her premonitions.’

  ‘That’s the thing about being able to see the future… it is unreliable at the best of times.’ Sirona redirected her stare back at Destine, who was still paralysed. ‘Oh, Madame, do snap out of it. You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.’

  Chapter XXVI

  The Dark Side

  Romulus halted so abruptly that every man behind him crashed into the one in front like a line of dominoes.

  ‘Here!’ he announced in the darkness, his fingers feeling something embedded into the stone wall of the tunnel. ‘There is a hidden door here. It must be the point of entry into the Hades Consortium’s lair.’

  Quaint bustled through the throng to his side. ‘Careful, Romulus. There could be a platoon of fifty Consortium guards waiting for us on the other side.’

  ‘We did not come all this way only to slow our pace now that we have reached our destination, Cornelius!’ snapped Romulus, clear that he was going to open the door no matter what the conjuror’s opinion was.

  Quaint rubbed the fine bristle on his jaw, trying to coax the embers of a plan into life. ‘All right. Here’s what I think we should so. Romulus, your brother is our primary target, but he could be anywhere inside this place. We’ll need to move quietly if we want to avoid any guards.’

  ‘Avoid them?’ snorted Viktor. ‘But Cornelius, you said this Hades Consortium is evil. Surely whilst you and Romulus are busy hunting this demon, the rest of us can do far more damage!’

  ‘Such as?’ enquired Quaint.

  ‘Destroy this place!’ boomed Viktor. ‘Burn it to ashes and kill anyone that stands in our way!’

  Quaint shook his head. ‘That won’t work. Have you never heard of the Hydra? The only way to destroy the Hades Consortium is to hunt every member of its inner stratum to extinction. My present score happens to be one and counting, as it goes.’

  Romulus interceded. ‘I have accumulated much knowledge about the Hades Consortium. I have made it my business to know all about it, and I have something that might be better served in your hands. Back at St Vincentine’s in my chambers I have a list of names, those that make up the inner stratum. If we survive this, it might be of use to— Wait!’ he said, his hands flat against the wooden door. ‘I hear the thunder of footsteps!’ Anxious moments passed before the footsteps dissipated. ‘They seem to have gone. We were lucky this time, my friends. But we must not hang about.’ He shoved his shoulder against the door, feeling it budge only slightly. ‘I think it will yield… but not by my strength alone.’ Romulus was thankful for the cloak of darkness; for he felt his features contort as he called his bestial side into being. Waves of energy surged into his muscles as the beast inside him awoke.

  Pushing his fingers into the narrow gap between the door and its frame, he dug away at the wood. Fighting against his instincts to cut loose, he scored his claws deeper. Chunks of wood and masonry fell to the ground. With an almighty wrench, he pulled the entire door from its hinges, casting it onto the ground behind him.

  ‘Quickly,’ he hissed. ‘Once free… the beast is hard to tame.’

  The group went through the door and found themselves in an enclosed tunnel not all that dissimilar to the one they had just left. All that was different was the light. An array of lit torches was fixed along the length of the tunnel wall. The group of infiltrators squinted, fighting against the contrast in light.

  ‘There!’ said Quaint, pointing to a large crevice in the tunnel wall, bathed in shadow. ‘We’re only going to run straight into trouble if we go blundering about blind. We need to focus on Remus. Romulus, can you sense him in your present form?’

  Romulus nodded. ‘Si, but if I can sense him…’

  ‘… then he can sense you,’ completed Quaint. ‘We’d better keep our eyes open.’

  They had walked not fifty yards along the winding stone tunnel when it began to open up considerably. The darkness was gone now, denied by the flaming torches. At least they could see where they were going, but this also came with its drawbacks. With such an open space to keep watch on and no shadows, there was nowhere to hide. As they rounded a bend they came face to face with a group of around twenty Hades Consortium guards. Clad in their long red robes from head to foot, they each carried a heavy sword at their waists. There was a kind of awkward silence between the two factions as they each considered their options.

  ‘We’re outnumbered,’ said Romulus.

  ‘But not outmatched,’ said Quaint.

  As Quaint and Romulus’s band began trading blows with the guards, Viktor snatched at his belt. Three knives had left his hands in between breaths, each one finding its target with unrivalled accuracy. The ensuing battle was clumsy and vicious, with the Consortium guards remaining a solid unit as Romulus’s band punched, kicked, slashed and stabbed their way through them. Quaint picked up a handful of dirt and threw it into his opponent’s eyes, following it up with a crack to the blinded guard’s jaw. Wrestling the blade from his foe’s hands, Romulus brought the edge of the sword down onto the guard’s neck.

  ‘We do not have time for this, Cornelius!’

  ‘I couldn’t agree more!’ yelled Quaint, elbowing a guard in the face. ‘But there are so many of them and we won’t get any further unless we deal with them.’

  There was a sudden scream, and all eyes that could darted to the origins. One of Romulus’s men was impaled upon a sword, his guts squeezing themselves out of the wound. Giuseppe thrashed wildly with a dagger towards the guard’s chest, who spun quickly, spearing him in the heart. Another of Romulus’s men fell just as quickly. Knocking his opponent unconscious, Quaint lashed out with his boot heels, breaking the guard’s nose. With a swift flick of his wrist, slashing right through his robes, Romulus’s claws gouged open the guard’s chest. Romulus panted heavily, his claws tainted with blood. He roared, thrashing wildly with his claws into the dead guard, tearing him to pieces.

  Quaint rushed over and clamped his hands on Romulus’s shoulders. ‘That’s enough! Let’s not have ourselves too much fun, eh?’

  Romulus cursed as he realised his actions. ‘I… killed him.’

  ‘And he would have done the same to you,’ said Quaint. ‘Pull yourself together, man! Taking down a whole platoon is bound to get noticed sooner or later so we need to finish this off and then get out of here!’

  ‘Si,’ said Romulus, tensing his bloodstained hand into a fist. ‘To Remus.’

  ‘To Remus!’ cheered Quaint.

  Chapter XXVII

  The Healing Hands

  It had been some time since Madame Destine had been able to speak.

  Prometheus had no idea what was happening around him. All he could do was stare at her, watching as her hands shook uncontrollably.

  ‘Why did I not foresee this?’ she said.

  Lady Sirona wheeled herself over to Destine’s side, eager to witness the woman’s pain up close. ‘Fate is not always as clearly defined as you clairvoyants like to think, my dear Destine. It was a brave, yet ultimately foolhardy act of yours, coming to this place. And for that you must be punished.’ She reached behind her and pulled out a small brass bell, shaking it back and forth. As the sound rang out, a group of four Hades Consortium guards rushed in.

  Destine and Prometheus were surrounded.

  ‘Now, my Lady Sirona… if you please,’ said Renard, point
ing to his stomach. ‘I am in agony here.’

  ‘Very well, Antoine. Come closer and show it to me,’ replied Sirona.

  Renard hissed as he lifted his jacket and shirt, displaying his bandaged stomach. Although it clearly pained him, he tore at the blood-soaked material and it fell to the floor. The flesh around the wound was badly scorched, courtesy of Mr Markham’s haphazard job on the ship, and the wound itself was as black as coal, split open at the seams where Markham had stitched him up.

  As Renard stepped to her side, the old woman edged herself closer to him, laying her hands flat on his wound. ‘You had better be grateful for this. My ability takes an undue amount of stress on my physical body. And speaking of which, I’m amazed that you’ve survived as long with a wound like that!’

  ‘Hence my rush to get to your side, my Lady,’ said Renard.

  ‘The stench!’ said Sirona, turning her face away. ‘Know that I can do nothing about your scarred features, Antoine. My gift only works on current illnesses.’

  ‘That is fine, my Lady, I prefer to keep them. As a reminder.’

  With the guards holding him, Prometheus tried to edge closer to Destine, hoping that she would give him a clue to what was happening. ‘What’s she doing to him, Madame? Who is she? She seems to know you. And you know her!’

  Destine exhaled slowly, gathering her composure. ‘My premonitions were toying with me once again, it seems… only showing me the aftermath of Cornelius’s pain… not exactly who caused it. I presumed that it was Remus… although now what he faces is someone far more powerful than Remus could ever be.’

  ‘How come?’ asked Prometheus. ‘Are they old enemies or something like that?’