Nocturnal Academy 11: Tunguska

Nocturnal Academy #11

Tunguska

By

Ethan Somerville

SMASHWORDS EDITION

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PUBLISHED BY:

Storm Publishing on Smashwords

Nocturnal Academy 11

Copyright © 2012/2016 by Ethan Somerville

www.stormpublishing.net

Smashwords Edition License Notes

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Chapter 1

Principal Oleg Bukarev from the Russian Academy stood in Professor Abbacus’ gloomy underground laboratory and slowly looked around at all the weird, bubbling experiments, whirring, clicking machines and the large collection of old fashioned computers and monitors clustered at the centre of the room. He sniffed in disdain.

Well? What were you expecting? growled Professor Abbacus from some shadows at the far end of the laboratory. A massive, gleaming white research laboratory like you see on TV? Rest assured everything here works far above and beyond normal parameters. I just don’t care what it looks like. He emerged, brushing off some cables and coils of wire – a sure sign he had been rummaging about in one of his closets. He was dressed in a new leather coat, since his last one had been shredded during the Nightmare Games. This one was dark blue. He’d been trying to get another bright red one with a fur collar, mainly to annoy Alice Dibble and her friends, but they simply didn’t make them anymore.

Professor Bukarev was a tall, slender vampire with the usual pale, aristocratic features beloved of his race. He had short, glossy black hair worn swept back from his face in a classic Bela Lugosi style. But both his temples were streaked with white and new lines had recently appeared on his forehead and around his mouth. He sighed heavily. Beggars couldn’t afford to be choosers, and if he wanted to go ahead with his mission then he would have to trust this obviously completely insane cyborg necromancer. Very well, he conceded. We might as well get started.

Abbacus’ bright blue human eye gleamed with excitement and he rubbed his odd hands together. Yes, yes of course, he gushed, instantly forgiving Bukarev for his derision. It’s powering up right now as we speak. Follow me. He spun in a swirl of his new coat and hurried off through the benches and experiments, into the dark shadows up the back. He had indeed recently enlarged his space, but not with any spatial enhancement Magick. This deep underground all he’d needed to do was employ an earth elemental to dig out some more chambers. So long as they didn’t interfere with any of the other numerous underground rooms, he could extend as far as he liked.

He led Bukarev to a room up the back that was usually closed behind a thick steel door with a massive locking wheel at its centre. At the moment it was open wide, the protective runes that usually helped to hold it closed dark and inert. In here, he gestured to Bukarev.

With some trepidation the Russian principal entered the new space, a large chamber decked out in the same gloomy style as the main part of the lab. Cables, pipes and thick chains trailed across the ceiling and floor, all connected to an ominous tank in the middle. It was made from dark, tarnished steel and studded with brass rivets. Little windows had been recessed into the sides. So Abbacus wouldn’t have to haul it out every time he wanted to use it, it was connected to its own computer terminal against the far wall, yet another anachronistic smoosh of new and old technology. A deep throb of power vibrated through the room.

Bukarev gulped at the sight of the thing. It really did look brooding and evil. But what was the alternative?

Professor Abbacus scurried over to a wall and pushed up a large, two-pronged lever. With a loud clunk and a grinding noise the tank’s heavy lid came away and started to rise towards the ceiling, pulled by the thick chains in pulleys. The background throb began to rise steadily to a hum. So how much time do you have left? Abbacus asked Bukarev.

The vampire lifted his gnarly hands to his temples where he had noticed the grey hairs appear only a few weeks earlier. I don’t know – I’m already 1013 years old. When the accelerated ageing starts it can come on pretty quickly. No more than a few weeks, I reckon. I can’t take any chances. This has to be done and it has to be done now.

Of course.

I can’t afford … to go right in the middle of our expedition. He clenched his teeth at the involuntary catch in his voice. He didn’t want Abbacus to know how frightened he really was.

The great iron lid stopped near the ceiling. The background hum had risen to an annoying whine. Lights began to flicker. Abbacus rubbed his hands together again. It’s nearing full power. Get undressed and hop up onto the platform. He gestured towards a step-ladder beside the machine.

Bukarev gulped, his fears rising. Is … is it safe?

Abbacus planted his hands on his hips. Is it safe? he scoffed. "It’s the Immortality Machine, a one of a kind device! It is designed to kill you, freeze your body in time at the point of death, and then bind your soul to your corpse. You will probably suffer the most excruciating agony imaginable. Of course it isn’t bloody well safe! But the reward will be exactly what you seek. He pressed a hand against his chest. Everlasting existence."

Bukarev removed his long black cloak with shaking hands. Yes he was nervous, but also starting to suffer from the palsy of old age. I could … I could drink blood to survive.

You do that and you’ll crave blood forever, growled Abbacus. There won’t be much of that in the Immaterium. You’d go insane from hunger; you would age rapidly … and die anyway.

Yes, I suppose you’re right. Bukarev stripped out of his boots, his black velvet suit and silk shirt, right down to his boxer shorts. He squared shoulders that had started to bow with age, and walked over to the machine. He climbed the ladder and there, on top of the tank was a steel frame with heavy shackles for arms and legs. Are these manacles really necessary?

You’ll buck and thrash around as the electrothaumaturgical energy does its work, Abbacus explained. I don’t want you busting out of my machine. I’ve already had one subject do that, and it took me months to replace the device.

With much trepidation Bukarev stretched himself out on the cold metal. Ice seemed to sink down into the very marrow of his bones. Professor Abbacus climbed the ladder beside him and shackled him in, screwing the bolts down tight. While this will solve most of your problems it won’t solve them all. You will come out with a craving, but for what – I cannot say.

A craving? For blood?

Who can say? Over the years I’ve discovered that it’s usually something you either enjoyed or needed while you were alive. It is what will ultimately regenerate you. I need electricity, and Elliana, who so kindly told you all about my machine, has developed an extreme fondness for strawberry milk.

I did notice that. She must have gone through two litres at dinner. Strawberry milk sounds harmless enough.

Abbacus grunted. Let’s hope your craving is just as innocuous, and you discover it before our departure. He jumped down from the ladder. I’m going to bring the lid down now. When you feel the platform you’re on start to descend, take a deep breath – the last breath of your life, and hold it.

Bukarev wanted to protest, but he simply answered shakily Yes.

Professor Abbacus went back to the wall and pulled down the switch that controlled the lid. By now the very air seemed to be screaming around him, and the overhead lights were flickering intermittently. As soon as the heavy metal covering came down clamps slid into place and locked it in. Abbacus raced around the side of the device to an old-fashioned keyboard that had been attached there. It was one of those pads with Magick runes on the buttons instead of letters. He started typing furiously, activating the spells that would control the machine – and the ones that would ensure Bukarev’s complete loyalty.

He had recently restructured the device so he wouldn’t need to perform the geas manually. He didn’t trust the Russian principal and wanted to make sure he would never be in a position to stab him in the back. He was sure had he actually told Bukarev about these various control enchantments the old vampire would probably still have conceded, but right now Abbacus wasn’t taking any chances. Soon they would be journeying into the very darkest reaches of the Immaterium. Best for Bukarev not to know that he would, in essence, be under Abbacus’ control.

He finished inscribing the runes that would activate the moment the process began. He straightened up and marched back over to the wall, to a second large two-pronged switch. He paused for a second, savouring the moment, and then thrust it up.

Inside the machine Bukarev felt the platform start to drop. He gulped in a huge mouthful of air – and was plunged into cold salt water. He scarcely had time to respond before he was surrounded by electricity that arced and snarled, filling every nerve in his body with white-hot fire.

A blinding pain exploded behind his eyes as Abbacus’ geas flared into life and etched his orders onto his very soul.

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Chapter 2

Inside the Nocturnal Academy’s dining hall the morning after Professor Abbacus’ experiment, everyone gathered as usual for dinner. A couple of weeks had passed since the Nightmare Games debacle and things were slowly returning to normal. The wrecked arena had been smoothed out and grassed over, and a special memorial garden created around where Professor Florana was planted, complete with commemorate plaque above its gate. Both Florana and Grizzer were mentioned, and a hedge had been carved into the shape of a huge bear, rearing up on its hind legs.

The Nocturnal Funhouse had been placed on one side of the garden, and a hedge-maze for the children to enjoy was developing very nicely on the other. Plans were also being laid to move the Academy’s kitchen gardens into the area, since residual Magick from Plantagensis was still making everything grow so well there. Professor Florana was truly enormous, and come next spring his crown would probably cover the entire garden around him. Even so there was still a space beside him. It was here Miss Eiche spent all her days, beside the man she had loved, but who had only loved her back for such a short time.

Although a lot of children were still upset from the ordeal, special meditation classes run by Madam Nocturna had ensured most could now sleep peacefully through the day. Only a couple of kids, including Alice, still woke occasionally in a cold sweat. She continued to dream about plants rising to engulf her, thick branches growing around her body and vines dropping to tangle around her arms and legs.

Even now the tall, black-haired vampire girl had to shake her head to clear it of the unwanted image. She blinked and focussed on the head table, where the professors and teachers were gathering. The Russian principal, Professor Bukarev, looked a little dishevelled, like he had been through a workout. His grey-streaked hair was standing up and his suit was rumpled. He looked more cadaverous than usual. Madam Nocturna had told everyone that he was just visiting, but the paranoid Alice didn’t believe that for a second. No-one just visited the Australian Nocturnal Academy. He was here for a reason. But what? Alice suspected that Bukarev had entered the end-period of a vampire’s life and was ageing rapidly. Perhaps he was seeking advice from Madam Nocturna, who had managed to arrest her accelerated ageing.

Professor Abbacus took his seat at the end of the table and Alice heaved a sigh of relief that he was still here. He’d repaired all the damage he’d sustained during the Nightmare Games just after the event, but now he appeared to have polished the steel portion of his head and the brass rivets that attached it to his skull. His metal hand also gleamed, his talons no longer rusty red in colour. Was this a special occasion? Alice wondered, and a nervous sensation started to gnaw in the pit of her stomach.

Every day she expected to learn that he’d been sent away, either back to the Nocturnal University or Geneva or some other such place. Even though she spent an hour each lunch time with Harley in virtual reality, it was actually Professor Abbacus’ presence that helped her to breathe a little easier.

He seemed to offer a security she had been sorely lacking, a security she realised she was missing from her parents. After all, as a vampire she was a lot more powerful than her folks and even Janice, who could see through glamours but was still all too human. What could any of them do to protect her if something bad happened?

But Abbacus … he was a lot more powerful than her. And if he was all polished up because he was going, then she would be back to waking each and every day in a panic, thinking that something nasty was coming to claim her. The only way Madam Nocturna could help her now was to actually start altering her memories and brain chemistry. Too much of this and her whole personality would change.

She would no longer be Alice. It was a last resort, one she was willing to try to get her life back, but not yet. Not until she’d tried everything she could do to control her fears.

Gloomily Alice dropped her chin into her hands.

Hey, what’s up Dribble? Carla asked as she sat down beside her.

Alice looked up at the bushy-haired cat-girl. I just realised at the tender age of fifteen that I’m already grown up.

Carla snorted. What do you mean?

We all are, actually. None of us rely on our parents any more. Except maybe those of us whose parents actually have to pay our school fees! She forced a laugh.

Carla still looked confused.

Whatta we talking about? asked Toby as he sat down beside Carla.

Alice is convinced we’ll all adults, Carla explained.

Alice spread her hands. "Our parents are supposed to look after us, right? Well, what are they going to do if this town gets attacked by a horde of demons or something? Nothing! It’ll be us protecting them."

Understanding dawned. Ah, said Carla. I see what you mean. She frowned. You’re right. Sure my folks love me and shower me with lots of presents when I’m home, but … but I don’t ask them for advice anymore. I go to McDingley for everything I need to know about shapeshifting and Madam Nocturna for more personal stuff.

Yeah, Toby agreed. If I have any sort of problem I go to Professor Longenfang, not my Mum. The big, sandy-haired wolf boy looked up as the burly blonde PE master lumbered somewhat unsteadily into the room. Speak of the big, hairy devil.

Goodness, has he been drinking already? Alice whispered. I thought he was over all that.

He doesn’t guzzle as much as he used to, but still likes a drink or two, Toby explained.

Or five, muttered Carla.

Longenfang wedged himself in between Abbacus and the Russian professor. He burped, a little too loudly, all over Bukarev.

The kids sniggered. Bukarev cringed back in disgust.

Sorry, apologised Longenfang. Bit of a squash here.

But then a strange, thoughtful look came over Bukarev, and he nudged Longenfang. "What’s that you’ve been drinking?’

What? Longenfang hiccupped. Oh. Vodka. Thought you would have recognised it, being a Russian! He snickered.

Not after it’s been fermenting in your stomach, Bukarev snapped, "and just because I’m a Russian doesn’t mean I automatically drink Vodka! I