GARGOYLE
Part II: The Specimen

Chapter 5

The operation had been run so smoothly, so perfectly, that the last thing Bade expected that night was chaos.

The sense of tranquility enveloping him in the silent hall outside of Jonathan’s office had been completed by the presence of his hypnotized boy. The dead weight of Donovan’s small hand in his firm gloves offered a sort of security that aided in soothing Bade’s nerves. He found himself looking down fondly into the child’s face and thinking that perhaps comfort was waiting for him. He had a promise to honor and Jonathan’s permission to care for the boy. Guilt wracked him in the wake of a family’s murder, bringing with it the memories of several undeserved deaths at Ansel hands. But this could be his chance to redeem himself…

It was when Bade was lost in hopeful thought that a monstrous roar crashed through the calm and echoed down the hall.

His body stilled and his eyes darted immediately to the giant oak doors while his mind raced. What was that?

As a top Ansel Agent and Jonathan’s right hand man Bade was obligated to stand guard. To watch. Getting involved, however, was out of the question. His role had ended when he surrendered the girl. This was Jonathan’s game now, and it was not his place to invade whatever situation his master had instigated. Jonathan must have meant for that roar, Bade reasoned. The mysterious tortures that took place in that office were legendary, practically defining Jonathan’s character. Bade was not about to interfere with anything like that. He trusted Jonathan Sicari to close the case, and though it was a messy sort of affair, the worst of it would be the Turning of a young girl into a new Vampire. And it would all happen exactly as planned... But could something have gone wrong?

He tossed his uneasiness back and forth between his professional logic and his worried imagination when there was another terrible sound: a shriek of shattering glass accompanied by a heavy thump, so weighted that Bade could feel it plummeting in his own stomach.

Was it safe to venture a peek? Or would Jonathan punish him for his interruption? Incurring the wrath of the head Vampire wasn’t a clever thing to do, as Bade had seen firsthand. But what if his master needed him?

He began taking hesitating steps forward, slightly pushing the spellbound Donovan behind him in a subconscious thought for the child’s safety. His eyes mindlessly traveled to the floor, and Bade saw with a start that a steady pool of blood was slowly leaking out from beneath the doors.

Attempting to remain rational, he ran over the evidence in his head. On its own this sight would have meant nothing. Jonathan was known to emerge from his office after hours of screaming and sobbing, futilely wiping his hands of the same blood that covered the rest of his body. And with a sigh he would nod to an inferior agent to clean it up (“Won’t you please?”). But if there was one thing Jonathan refrained from doing it was destroying the materials of his chamber. So what had caused that crashing sound?

Bade’s gloved hand reluctantly reached for the golden handle when, at the end of the hall, a team of five uniformed agents burst their way in from the staircase. They carried in their hands bulky assault rifles, and their rapid stomping footsteps shook the walls. Captain Minerva headed the rushing crowd, and there was no mistaking the frightened look on her face.

Jonathan was in trouble.

At once Bade twisted the handle and pushed himself against the giant doors, all else forgotten. He stumbled inside, slipping in the liquid pool of tell-tale vermillion, and he quietly swore as he scanned the terrible scene that greeted him.

The weather outside raged and a prompt flash of lightning illuminated every shard of the broken window littering the floor. Wind whipped the curtains, sent fluttering notes from the large desk, and ruffled case folders in the tall bookshelves. The scent of rain and sweat hung heavy in the air. And amidst the ruin lay the crumpled figure of Jonathan Sicari, face down and unstirring in a thick lake of blood.

Oh, damn…!

As Minerva and her agents reached the doorway with a flurry of collective gasps and astonished curses, Bade knelt beside his fallen master, tightly gripped his shoulders, and hoisted him upward.  He settled Jonathan into his lap, his fingers smearing trails in the gore on Jonathan’s cheek. “Jonathan? Jonathan?”  

An enormous cry of pain rose gurgling from Jonathan’s throat. Bade stared into his face, scrunched up in agony, and inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. He’s alive! “Sir –”

But words suddenly failed him as he saw what damage had been done. In the center of his chest was a large, gaping hole. A complete tunnel of a wound, a gash you could look through. Tiny bits of ivory bone and tattered shreds of his ruby-soaked suit stuck to his skin, and from the crevice in his torso seeped sanguine fluids like a steady stream. Bade stared in horror, completely transfixed. “S-Sir, I –”

Jonathan wheezed through his teeth, spitting up pinkish foam as he wrapped his arms around Bade’s neck and pulled himself closer. Their faces mere inches apart, the stunned agent saw in his master’s eyes more fury than he had ever seen before.

“The girl,” Jonathan gasped, his fangs bared in anger. “Don’t l-let her get –”

“Jonathan,” Bade fought to collect himself. “Y-You’re very hurt. We need…” He looked over his shoulder at Minerva. “We need help, right now!”

The lady captain, dazed, did not move.

Jonathan roughly tugged Bade back towards him. “Bade!” he snarled, panting between every labored syllable. “I said n-not to let her g-get away!”

He glared, incensed, straight into Bade’s eyes, and Bade was so overwhelmed he could do nothing other than stare back. For a moment the two held the bitter and strange contact, until Jonathan’s eyelids fluttered a final time and he fell limp in the captain’s arms.

Bade swallowed, bile rising in his throat, and turned to the agents in the door. “Get him to the Medical Ward. Tell Balint we’re coming.”  

They stood aghast and unresponsive.

“NOW!”

The agents jumped stupidly into action. Minerva, looking very distressed, helped Bade lift up their fallen master while the hushed team of Vampires behind her hurried to gather a silver gurney and gauze. They laid him carefully on the cushioned cart, and stood back as three of the agents wheeled Jonathan to the elevator. Bade looked down and saw his grim expression reflected in the placid pool of blood at his feet.

In a loud yet trembling voice, Minerva addressed the two remaining agents, who stood shakily at attention. “Gather up a team and arm yourselves immediately. Stop her from getting back to the city.”

Bade furrowed his brow. “What are you talking about?”

Startled, Minerva turned around. “You heard Mr. Sicari. We can’t let her get away.”

“No, no teams are going after that girl.”

“But the orders –”

“He was delirious Minerva. And he is now unconscious, which leaves me in command.”

“The order was still given, Bade.”

“I’m revoking it!” Bade shouted, Minerva flinched at his loss of temper. “Nobody is going after her! We have more important things to do than chase inno –” He faltered, and cast another wary glance at the blood creeping under his boots. “…We have more important things to do now.”

“Like take care of your little human?” Minerva frowned.

Bade stepped out from the office, leaving a red shoeprint on the hard wood floor, and saw that the entranced little boy had not moved at all from where Bade had left him in the hallway. He gently pulled Donovan into his blood-stained arms and fixed Minerva with an angry scowl, daring her to say more.

Minerva kept quiet, watching Bade uneasily, and then she nodded to the remaining agents. They tentatively stepped into Jonathan’s office, careful to avoid the mess, and began examining the rest of the wreckage.

“The, uh,” Minerva sighed. “The guards out front called in and said they saw her jump out the window. She landed and disappeared before they could pursue.”

“She landed?” Bade whispered. “She jumped thirteen stories.”

“I know.”

Bade’s eyes had fallen back on the blood. He was lost in the reflection of his eyes, behind which a mind raced faster than ever.