Minutes To Midnight

Minutes

To

Midnight

The Nemesis Chronicles, Volume 1

By H. R. Jackson

Published by H.R. Jackson at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 H. R. Jackson

All rights reserved.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

DEDICATION & ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Amor est Vitae Essentia

To our family and to those that have supported us through the years: a heartfelt thank you because we couldn’t have done this without you. To our friends, test readers, and fans: we hope you enjoy this book as much as we enjoyed writing it.

CONTENTS

1 The Carnival (Dirk)

2 The Sideshow (Morgan)

3 The Date (Dirk)

4 The Grand (Morgan)

5 The Fight (Dirk)

6 The Bar (Morgan)

7 The Storm (Dirk)

8 The Aftermath (Morgan)

9 The Groupie (Dirk)

10 The Citadel (Morgan)

11 The Hero (Dirk)

12 The Breakfast (Morgan)

13 The Conversation (Dirk)

14 The Search (Morgan)

15 The Courtyard (Dirk)

16 The Vault (Morgan)

17 The Notebook (Dirk)

18 The Enforcers (Morgan)

19 The Tunnel (Dirk)

20 The Chase (Morgan)

21 The Concert (Dirk)

22 The Maelstrom (Morgan)

23 The Mythics (Dirk)

24 The Inferno (Morgan)

25 The Rescue (Dirk)

26 The Confession (Morgan)

1 THE CARNIVAL (DIRK)

My daughter was going to kill me. Astrid was a ball of constant energy, fueled, in no small part, by being in Vegas for the first time. It was the night before her tenth birthday and, as the birthday princess, the city was her oyster. She’d begged to see Mr. Intensity’s Magical Manifestation show and I’d caved despite wanting nothing more than to go home, put her to bed and collapse into my own, having had my fill of shopping, carnival rides, and junk food for the day.

Anything for my little girl.

Magic shows weren’t exactly my normal routine, but Astrid was still dazzled by the display. I knew it wouldn’t be too long before she learned the truth – real magic was more subtlety, less showmanship – but I wasn’t going to be the one to dash those illusions. I’d let her mother be the bearer of that bad news.

We’d joined the rest of the audience crowded under the huge red and yellow striped tent to get a glimpse of what was billed as the most spectacular prestidigitation display the world had ever known. A large main stage flanked with heavy red velvet curtains and swiveling spotlights dominated the front center of the space. The lack of chairs made room for more bodies, guaranteeing almost sweat-box-like conditions despite the early spring chill outside.

Astrid danced on her toes, shifting from side to side, using my arm to keep steady as she tried to see around the people in front of us. Dad, she whined, frustration warping her delicate features, I can’t see anything.

My daughter was the silver lining to an otherwise black cloud relationship, and it was only in the past few months that I’d even been allowed to spend any time with her at all. I moved to scoop her up, thinking to prop her on my shoulder, and stopped myself mid-motion, deciding instead to maneuver us into a better position through the crowd until we stood in the front row, apologizing as we went.

My little girl isn’t so little anymore, I thought with a pang of regret. She could easily pass for fourteen, thanks to my contribution to her gene pool. Astrid had my height and showed signs of the budding athletic physique that ran in my family. Strawberry blonde hair combined with steel-blue eyes and tawny skin – both gifts from her mother – and I knew that she was going to be a knock out when she got older. Internally, I groaned at the prospect of keeping the ardent teenage boys at bay.

This is much better, she beamed up at me, ignoring the grumblings of the patrons behind us, thank you, Daddy. My heart soared at her smile and I couldn’t stop my answering grin, feeling like I’d just saved the day.

Maybe this Dad thing won’t be so hard after all. I gave myself a mental pat on the back.

Out the corner of my eye, a bounce of golden curls caught my attention, and I casually glanced over. Shock brought me up short, squeezing the breath from my lungs as my heart tripped over itself. I froze, staring at a face that had absolutely no reason to be among the sea of patrons around us. What is she doing here?

Sam? Her name tumbled from my numb lips before I could stop it.

Cloudless summer skies had nothing on the clear blue depths of the eyes that met mine. Her eyelids lowered in that seductive, come-hither look that only one of the female species could pull off without looking completely silly.

A look that my ex-wife would have never, in a million years, given me.

Thank the gods, relief overwhelmed me, it’s not her. The resemblance was eerie, but the more I studied her, the more I realized that, though she may be an almost mirror image of Astrid’s mother, she wasn’t an exact copy. My eyes dipped down to appreciate the view now that my heart had resumed its normal rhythm. The sapphire halter dress – and I was hard pressed to even call it that – looked more suited to the bedroom than the city streets, with a plunging neckline that amply displayed her two most impressive assets.

Sam wasn’t a blonde, either. At least, not anymore, I thought wryly. The last time I’d seen her, Sam’s hair had been black as a raven wing. The tanned skin on display bore no tattoos that I could see, whereas Sam’s flesh was a canvas of strategically placed ink. There was an overall softness to her body that my ex would never have allowed.

They could have seriously been twins. Disturbing because my body had apparently forgotten what happened the last time it responded to what Sam was offering. This has to be some sort of trick.

Astrid tapped me on the belly, leaning against me, her voice full of hushed awe, Isn’t this the greatest?

It sure is, I replied, tearing my gaze away from Sam’s doppelganger. I glanced up to where Mr. Intensity – a middle aged man, whose silver-tipped black hair and goatee gave the illusion of still having a few good years left in him – was showing off the empty interior of his black silk top hat. Unlined face serious, he propped the hat on a tiny side table and reached in, his hand emerging seconds later dangling a squirming, vicious looking albino bunny. It wasn’t until the rabbit roared like a lion that the audience responded with surprised gasps and a smattering of polite applause.

Wow! Astrid clasped my arm with a giddy laugh. Did you see that? It was so cool! I nodded, wishing I could summon up even a quarter of her enthusiasm as I fought to keep my eyes on the show and off the Sam lookalike next to me.

Stuffing the rabbit back into the hat, Mr. Intensity again showed us it was empty before propping it back on top of his head. Giving the brim a jaunty tap, he bowed and called for a short intermission before exiting the stage to swelling applause. I clapped too. As far as illusionists went, I'd seen worse.

Astrid laced her fingers in mine, toying with the button of my jacket as she mooned up at me, Dad? Can I have a roaring bunny?

I think your mom would have a problem with that. Blame shifting. Sam wasn’t the only one who could play that card. And I immediately felt bad about saying it. Damnit. Do you need to pee? I blurted out, partly to change the subject, partly just in case she actually had to use the facilities. The way she was dancing around was enough to make me wonder.

She stopped fidgeting for a moment as she pondered, much to my amusement. Nope, she finally announced, eyes drifting back to the stage.

An airy laugh preceded the rat-a-tat-tat on my shoulder from the woman in blue. Seeing that Astrid was busy soaking in every detail on the empty stage, I risked turning my attention away.

Is there something I can help you with?

The scent of warm, sugared vanilla filled my nostrils as she leaned in. She smelled like sexy snickerdoodles, and I knew I’d never be able to look at those cookies the same way. Do you have the time? Her voice dripped with sensual suggestion, and my body responded as though her hands had travelled south on a groping expedition.

For what? It took my brain a second to wade through the torrent of carnal images evoked by her tone to get to the real meaning of her question. Oh, right. The time.

Sam’s smoky southern drawl invaded my thoughts like a wool blanket soaked in ice water.

I fished around the inside pocket of my tailored black suit jacket, fumbling for my pocket watch as my annoyance level skyrocketed. She’d been quiet most of the week, letting me have my time with Astrid without any interference on her side. But I’d felt the occasional twinge, the feeling like I was being watched from behind my eyes, and I knew she’d eventually have something to say. She always did.

Pressing the catch, I angled the face toward the blonde, my mind only half paying attention. If Sam was going to pop into my head unexpectedly, then I was going to make damn sure she didn’t stay long. It was my fault anyway for fixating on her earlier. I swear, she had some sort of alarm bell rigged to my subconscious that let her know when she was on my mind.

I imagined just how perky those blue-clad breasts really were underneath that dress…Aunt Tequila? Is that you? My victory was short lived as Astrid’s question broke into my daydream.

Sam cackled in my head.

I let out a heavy sigh, visions of naked Aunt Tequila evaporating like ice in a lava flow.

Sam fired back, deliberately ignoring my last question.

I didn’t expect to see you here, Sugar, Tequila bent down with a dimpled grin – giving me an unobstructed view of her rack – to hug Astrid. Aren’t you just cute as a button in your lavender dress and those long pigtails of yours? Tequila readjusted her dress as she straightened, fully aware that I was watching every move she made.

Sam’s tone dripped with menace.

It was a small victory, but I took it all the same, noting how pronounced her accent was becoming. She’d always tried to hide it, but it never failed to make an appearance when she was irritated.

Astrid giggled, reaching out to brush her fingers against the blue silk, You look like a Pretty Princess Doll.

Why thank you, Sugar, but as far as I can see, there’s only one pretty princess here, Tequila said, gently pinching Astrid’s cheek to elicit another giggle before letting her gaze travel all over me. And this must be your daddy. Your mom has told me so much about him. The way the corners of her lips twitched, I was certain the stories weren’t all flattering.

Tequila plucked my still open watch from my fingers. Show's nearly over, she said, checking the time before snapping it shut. She tucked it back into my pocket. Then the real fun can begin.

Astrid clapped her hands together, excitement setting her into a blur of motion. Dad, can Aunt Tequila show us around Vegas? Maybe we can see another show! Like the one with the acrobats in it.

I, uh…

Heat flashed through me, anger making my eyelid twitch in a way that was only moderately less annoying than the fact that my ex-wife apparently had nothing better to do with her time than spend it in my head.

That would be a splendid idea, Tequila’s grin widened. I know some people that might be able to pull some strings to get us in.

Like a dog with a bone, Sam just wouldn’t let it go.

Dad? Two pairs of eyes stared up at me; hope shining in Astrid’s, something much more adult lurking in Tequila’s.

Sure, I said, finally. Why not? The night’s young. I was outnumbered two-to-one, and Sam wasn’t physically here to do anything to stop me.

Sam drawled.

Astrid hugged my waist and promptly forgot all about me, as Mr. Intensity took the stage again, while Tequila beckoned my attention with a crooked finger. I’ve heard about your reputation in Vegas, Dirk, her whispered words against my ear suddenly making me wish we were anywhere else. Too bad we’re not on a date. I’d love to see if the rumors are true.

The reputation she referred to was as one of the preeminent male escorts in Las Vegas. The Courtesan’s Guild was almost exclusively female dominated, but it hadn’t been difficult to stand out from my few male peers. At 6’7", my Viking heritage had blessed me with a natural height and build that made it impossible to go unnoticed, flaming red hair that women seemed to find a novelty, and one, singular anatomical advantage – the one that guaranteed repeat business – that was currently making it hard to concentrate.

Sam’s voice was shrill enough to make me wince.

If she didn’t like what she was hearing, she could damn well get out of my head altogether. My eyes lingered on Tequila’s lips before sliding up to meet her molten gaze. If you’re in town after Sam has taken Astrid home, I’m sure we can make an arrangement.

Consider it done, Tequila murmured, dimples deepening as her hand surreptitiously checked my merchandise.

Sam sighed, irritation radiating through my brain.

For all their similarities, Tequila definitely did not mirror her sister’s morals or attitude. Thank the gods. I was feeling pretty good – once my nagging ex was gone – until catching the death glare being leveled at me by the woman on the other side of Tequila. I took that as my cue to focus on the stage.

While Tequila and I had been busy engaging in a little verbal foreplay, Mr. Intensity had finished up his performance and was busy introducing the next magician – a true Master of Horror he claimed – before exiting in a puff of scarlet smoke.

That’s so cool, Astrid squeaked, I want to be able to disappear like that.

I patted her shoulder. It’s always a possibility. Your mother can do it. Sam didn’t need smoke to make a grand exit, just a thought. I’d always been a little jealous of her ability to teleport on a whim, but now that I stopped to consider it, I wasn’t so sure I wanted Astrid to be able to do the same.

I know, right? Astrid’s eyes never left the stage.

When the smoke cleared, Intensity had been replaced by a slender man who put the show in showmanship. The spotlight glittered off the blue rhinestone embellished lapels of his purple velvet tuxedo and glimmered along the red satin of his cape. Dark hair was slicked back tight against his head, a well-trimmed goatee accentuating his angular features. He looked like the unfortunate offspring of a snake oil salesman and a maître d at an upscale restaurant.

He bowed deeply and flashed the crowd a smarmy smile.

I recognized him immediately. Primo Constantine, War Baron of the Artisan's Guild. He was responsible for anything entertainment related in Vegas, from Casino operations, to brothels, to the hundreds of concerts and nightly stage shows that passed through the city. I'd never met the man in person but he had a way of keeping himself in the public eye. The press loved him. They had to. He wrote their paychecks.

He technically wrote mine too.

Who will be my first victim? Primo scanned the audience for a volunteer, his arms akimbo before stabbing a finger in my direction. I blinked as I suddenly found myself awash in bright light. You, Sir! Would you like to be transformed into a hideous creature ripped from the very fabric of your nightmares?

Before I could answer, the spotlight darted away, illuminating a woman further down the row, all luscious curves and sable hair, wrapped in a skin tight, eye-popping, red dress. Maybe you, Miss? He didn’t wait for her to speak, sprinting down the steps to snatch up her hand and lead her back toward the stage. What is your name?

Alexis, she stammered, face flushed at the attention, her free hand fluttering to her cheek.

I was skeptical. I’d seen my share of ringers before and this Alexis definitely fit the type. She was too attractive to be just any mere audience member who just happened to be standing in the front row. The look of shock on her face seemed a little too forced. It was too convenient.

Not that I would’ve taken him up on his offer.

He should’ve picked you, Astrid said, scowling at the stage. You’re much more believable. I hugged her to my side, pride battling with uncertainty as to whether her announcement was a compliment.

A stage hand rolled out a large gold standing box with a red door, stopping it a few inches away from the pair before retreating. Primo opened the door with a flourish, thumping along the exterior while Alexis rapped on the inside walls.

No trick doors or hidden compartments.

Now, I want you to listen very carefully to what I'm about to tell you, Primo said as he helped Alexis into the box, his expression darkening. "Whatever you do, don’t move. He closed the box with a sinister laugh and turned his attention back to the audience. You may have heard about the famous Harry Houdini and his magic box, his lips curled in a sneer, I have surpassed his mere parlor tricks! I can physically transform a human being into a creature residing in the darkest recesses of your fear stricken mind!"

I was willing to bet that Houdini was at least more likeable.

The box suddenly creaked as Alexis let out a low moan from inside. The moaning gave way to increasingly hysterical screams that made me question my earlier assessment of Alexis’ performance with their authenticity. Listen to her screams of terror as she transcends her human form and becomes something more, Primo shouted. What will emerge? A hideous Harpy? A maddened Minotaur? Something even more terrifying?

I glanced down to my daughter. If the screams were unsettling enough to me, I couldn’t imagine what she must be thinking. Astrid stared, open mouthed at the stage, before turning plea-filled wide eyes to me. I want to see a Minotaur, she whispered, as though I were the one performing the trick. I really hope it’s a Minotaur, Dad.

I had to admit, a Minotaur would’ve been impressive but I was torn between wanting to see something truly horrifying pop out of that box –he was billed as the Master of Horror, after all – and desperately hoping it might be a unicorn so I wouldn’t have to contend with Astrid’s potential nightmares later. Do Minacorns actually exist? I thought, trying to picture a fuzzy white Minotaur, with a silvery twisted horn, happily prancing around for our entertainment on rainbow hooves.

The mental mash-up made me realize that I never, ever, wanted to see such a creature.

The screaming halted, plunging the stage into stark silence, the box sides bowing outward as though it were gasping for air. Primo skulked back across the creaking floorboards, preparing for the big reveal. A hush blanketed the audience as we all leaned forward, collective breaths held. Astrid clamped down on my fingers, quietly vibrating with anticipation.

Just as Primo neared it, the box exploded, raining a hail of splinters onto those of us unfortunate enough to be in the front row. I yanked Astrid against me, whirling her away to put my back to the stage, shielding her as much as I could with my bulk. I knelt down when the worst of it was over, hands cupping her cheeks to turn her face this way and that, my heart plummeting to my shoes with worry.

Jörmungandr, Astrid breathed, attention squarely focused on the stage behind me. When I looked over my shoulder, the name of the Loki’s middle kid was the first thing that sprang to my mind, too.

Where Alexis – and the box – once stood, now lay a massive snake, big enough to easily swallow a child whole without unhinging its jaw. Mottled moss green and brown scales shone dully in the lights, as it righted itself, undulating its thick body into a loose coil, letting out an eerily human screech.

Someone had sucked all the air out of the tent. No one moved, fear and disbelief rooting us all in place. The creature raised its head, thick neck swaying side to side. A long, forked tongue flicked out, tasting the air.

It looked like it was getting bigger. That’s not possible, my brain frantically scrambling to come up with something plausible. It must be clever lighting.

Ta dah! Primo yelled, bowing with a grand flourish.

Sirens sounded in my head, signaling a surge of panic that nearly sent me screaming for the exit. Astrid had a death grip on my waist, clinging to me like I was the last life raft after a shipwreck. My protective instincts lurching into overdrive, I stroked her hair. That’s the best makeup job I have ever seen. It looks like the real thing, I offered, hoping to reassure Astrid – and myself – that this was all part of the act.

Please let this be part of the act.

It’s not a makeup job, Dirk. From the corner of my eye, I caught a metallic glint and turned to see Tequila pulling two nickel plated revolvers from her handbag. Kicking off her stilettos, she turned for the steps, stopping when I reached out a hand to grab her arm. "It’s a real Python."

Where are you going? I asked, trying hard to keep my voice calm.

She shrugged off my hand. Get Astrid out of here. I’ll take care of this.

Take care… what?

Primo, she yelled, slipping out of reach before I could ask anything else, get off the stage!

I assure you, ladies and gentlemen, there is nothing to fear. He dismissed Tequila with a haughty wave. Behold as I transform this hideous monster back into the beautiful Alexis, right before your eyes. Gesturing his hands in the air, Primo turned to the creature and mumbled something incoherent.

The python responded with a sibilant hiss of disapproval, and followed it up with a quick strike in his direction, sending Primo diving for cover off stage. The sharp rapport of gunfire brought it up just short of making Primo into a snack and the snake reared, seeking the source of the sound. This time, when it screamed its displeasure, there was nothing vaguely human about it.

I didn’t know snakes could scream.

It zeroed in on Tequila, who barely managed to get out of the way. Tequila’s shots had snapped the crowd out of its trance, mass hysteria erupting as the crowd stampeded for the exits. The snake missed its intended target, but managed to find one in a woman passing close to the stairs where Tequila had been. Nearby patrons suddenly found themselves awash with gore as the creature devoured the upper half of the unfortunate woman and swallowed it whole. What was left of her toppled to the floor, still twitching.

Crap!

Astrid let out a piercing scream that chilled me to the very marrow of my bones and launched me into motion. Some primal part of my brain took over, the need to protect my daughter overriding every instinct to save myself. That is definitely not part of the show, I gasped, seizing Astrid and gluing her to my chest to keep her from being trampled as I turned for the side exit nearest us.

I shouted in my head.

No reply. I was on my own. Figures.

Aunt Tequila, Astrid wailed, hiccupping between sobs against my neck. Her voice was small and so vulnerable it shattered my heart to hear it. Puffy, tear drenched eyes met mine, Save her, Daddy! Please!

Seeing the anguish in my daughter’s eyes, I would’ve fought twenty pythons; anything to erase that look from her face. I cradled her against me, torn. I couldn’t just send her out into the Midway, and I couldn’t just leave her standing here. But I couldn’t not try to save Tequila.

She’d be safer with me.

Reaching for my abilities, I gathered the air around us, compressing it into a bubble. It was a makeshift barrier, not completely impenetrable, but sturdy enough to keep us safe should the python decide it was still hungry. I’d lost sight of Tequila in the swarm, but gunfire to my right spun me toward where she stood a few feet away, distracting the python from feasting upon more panicked patrons by alternating warning shots near its head and dodging when it struck at her.

The python lunged again as I drew near, snout colliding with the barrier as I passed. It recoiled, thrashing its head in agitation. You have an interesting way of having fun. I’ll give you that, I shouted to Tequila, but we need to get out of here.

Another shot. You have to stop the python.

What? Me? I clutched Astrid closer like a string of pearls, staring at crazy Aunt Tequila, seriously reconsidering my earlier offer of a date. You have the freakin' guns! I thought you said you were going to take care of this. Why don't you just shoot it already?

The gunfire is a distraction, but my diversion isn’t working. I can’t get close enough to subdue her.

Her? I don’t know what your idea of what a 'her' is, but that’s definitely not a 'her' now. Tequila’s glare hit me like she’d used a hand. The python’s nose bounced off the barrier again. Astrid shrieked. What the hell do you think I’m going to do to it?

Sugar, that’s on you. She sent two more rounds winging into the top of the tent. I hear you’re good at improvising. So improvise.

"Right. Maybe you missed the part where it ... she bit the head, no, entire upper half off of some poor defenseless woman?"

Dirk, her voice placid despite the metallic click that signaled the end of her ammo, if you don’t stop her, more people will get hurt – Tequila trailed off as we both became aware of a sound neither of us was expecting.

Astrid was singing. It had started so softly that I hadn’t noticed when she’d gone from terrified to tranquil. Tequila was staring at the stage and I turned to follow her gaze, feeling my jaw go slack.

The python was curled up in a tight ball, huge head draped on the muscular coils, completely quiet and immobile. Astrid’s voice rose and fell in a lullaby that I remembered from my youth. A song my mother had sung to me on those restless nights when she needed me to go to sleep and give her some peace.

The odd thing was Astrid hadn’t heard it from me. That left either Sam or my father, and I was pretty sure Sam didn’t sing.

Honey, I said quietly, not wanting to interrupt, because whatever she was doing was keeping us safer than my barrier or Tequila’s bullets. Astrid, what are you doing?

Alexis is scared, Dad, Astrid said when she’d finished her song. She doesn’t know what happened to her and she just wants to go home.

I ignored Tequila’s ‘told-you-so’ look as she brushed by to join the drowsy serpent on stage. How do you know?

She told me. And then I saw it. The blue of Astrid’s irises had retreated into a ring around eyes that were now a deep, smoky gray. Like Sam’s. In reverse.

The Psychomancer’s mark.

I let out a slow sigh, dropping the barrier around us. I wasn’t disappointed that Astrid had developed her mother’s abilities, I just knew how dangerous it would make her. I’d been hoping that maybe she’d picked up a little of my Credomancy too, but unless she started manipulating the elements around me, I’d never be sure. And knowing Sam, she wouldn’t say a word about it.

She’s asleep, Tequila said. I turned to watch her caressing her hands slowly against the python’s head. "Sugar, did