Without A Heartbeat
Chapter 7

Sciath Outpost was a relatively small base, hidden inside what appeared to be a disused linen factory a few miles out of Belfast. Every window was boarded up and multiple signs warned of a non-existent toxic chemical leak. For those who couldn’t read, a skull had been stamped below the words.

Outleader Kodessa led Faru and his team inside the dilapidated building through a nondescript metal door at the rear, which clicked open when he pressed a section of the brick wall. The large interior carried the lingering scent of metal and dye, and dust motes swirled in the beams of sunlight that spilled through cracks in the covered windows.

A second metal door stood at the rear of the cavernous room, behind a run of weaving looms that had rusted with time. The Outleader opened it by pressing a button hidden underneath one of the looms. The door slid open to reveal an elevator, which whined and clanked as the group descended into the boughs of the building. When the door opened again, it was on an entirely different scene.

An enormous room covered from floor to ceiling in white tiles and smelling of chemical bleach stretched out in front of them. Dozens of tubular tanks as tall and wide as building columns reached up to the high ceiling, connected via tubes to machinery that clanked with pistons and cogs. Laboratory technicians, who wore white medical coats and gloves moved between the tanks, checking data written on stacks of paper attached to clipboards.

The tubes were filled with Pandemonians.

All manner of life forms from the Seelian’s homeworld floated in a blue solution behind the glass. They were technically still alive, existing in an induced stasis and wearing breathing apparatus that was hooked up to their mouths. Faru knew about the existence of the tanks, but seeing them in real life was a different matter. The Huntmaster could feel the distaste of it pouring over him like a blanket. Apparently not all his Guardians were as well informed. The Pixie he called Three stared at the tubes with an expression of utter disbelief.

“What is this?” she asked.

Outleader Kodessa gestured towards the nearest, where an Oni – his red skin dulled by the hue of the solution – floated, huge head bowing downwards as if in apology. “Vitality tanks are where criminals found guilty of heinous crimes can choose to spend their sentence. We are able to gather incredible amounts of data and resources from them, which greatly aids our new technology.”

Sciath Outpost was predominately a research and development site for the Alliance. As with most Outposts, it was in an area with less Pandemonian activity, so efforts were placed on creating the latest tools and weaponry used by the Guardians. Once completed, the blueprints for any new technology was copied and distributed worldwide so that every base’s armoury could recreate it. It was expensive business and most of the funding came from private benefactors who wanted to be in the inner circle. It was a side of the organisation that Faru despised. He killed, but it was always for a cause – for the freedom of his people and for eventual peace. Those he met on the battlefield were not his enemies, but opponents placed there by circumstance. He knew that the tanks were a necessary evil, but it still saddened him to see those from his own world being treated like laboratory experiments.

“What could he have possibly done that is worthy of this?” demanded Three, her lips pulled back into a sneer and piercing green eyes boring into the Outleader’s.

“Draxis here went on a drunken rampage, killing one human and injuring four others,” answered Kodessa, catching the Pixie’s hostile attitude. “I know this treatment seems remarkably cruel, but remember it is necessary for the evolution of this organisation. For example, several healing balms have been created by collecting the oil secretions from Oni skin.” He rapped the glass with his knuckle, to which the Oni made no response. “The prisoners are reduced to a state of basic brain function, which allows them to feel the passage of time and thus experience penitence, but not awake enough to have conscious thoughts or movement.”

“How long is his term?”

“Thirty-two years left of a fifty year sentence.” He paused. “Draxis begged for this. His only other alternative was sixty years in Sinner’s Vault.”

“A better fate if you ask me,” muttered the Pixie.

“Then you have never been to Sinner’s Vault.”

There was a thick silence for a moment and then the Outleader gestured for them to follow. “Come, I have something to show you, Huntmaster Solignis.”

The Outleader led the group through the vast laboratory, weaving past vitality tanks and tables, where an array of technicians were working on all manner of objects that lay deconstructed to their core components. They reached an area at the very back of the room, where a run of heavily fortified chambers stood. Each of the individual rooms contained a strip of window and was guarded by an armed Guardian. “You wanted to see a Kapre,” said the Outleader, “here is one in the flesh.”

The Guardians closed in around the window and peered inside. A tall, slender figure was in the corner, somehow suspended cross-legged in mid-air with his long hands pressed against the wall. His skin was the colour of mushrooms and his beard a swirling mass of smoke that coiled around itself. Dark hair fell to his shoulders and his fingers were covered in a number of golden rings that glowed in the dark room. His only clothing came in the form of a loincloth covered in odd symbols that Faru knew were incantations, which could produce a number of ill effects if spoken allowed. The creature raised his head and flinched as his four red eyes settled on the visitors. His wide mouth cracked into a grimace and as quick as a gunshot he vanished, reappearing on the other side of the room with his back turned.

“They don’t like to be observed, hence their evasion equipment,” explained Kodessa. He pointed to a nearby table, where an ancient looking belt emitting a low frequency hum was stretched out. A team of technicians were stood around it, removing components and talking quietly amongst themselves. “We are almost at the point of reverse engineering the Kapre belt,” announced Kodessa proudly. “Once we have access to its fundamental structures, we hope to be able to recreate it and mimic their power of invisibility and camouflage.” He glanced at Faru. “A very useful addition to our arsenal I’m sure you will agree.”

“Anything that makes our order more efficient is welcome,” agreed Faru. “I really appreciate you taking the time to show us the workings of your base Outleader Kodessa. Unfortunately, Sage Blackwood has given us somewhat of a stringent timescale. If it is convenient, I would ask you to take us to your strategy room so that we might begin our investigations immediately.”

The Outleader cleared his throat and straightened up. “Of course. Please follow me.” As they walked from the room, Faru saw Three place her hand against one of the tanks that held a male Pixie, only a few years out of childhood.

“Bastards,” she muttered.

The Outpost’s strategy room was a rather cramped space compared to Crow’s Nest at the Warren base. An oval table ringed by chairs filled the centre of the room. Wooden boxes lined the walls, organised into sections and filled with files. Many of the walls themselves were covered in hand-written notes and brown-hued photographs - many taken with advanced cameras that only the Alliance had access to. A few Guardians were adding information to them, pulling them from the files, and re-arranging what was already on the walls into new orders.

“I apologise for the poor presentation,” said Kodessa. “As I said, serious attacks in this area of the world are quite rare. We have little need for the level of surveillance required in places such as London.” He sighed. “All this will be so much easier when the HASEA finally comes to an agreement with the Guild of the Arcane and we have access to Witches’ precognition. Playing constant catch-up is not an ideal scenario.”

“Agreed, anything that can aid us in our efforts to actually save people rather than simply serving justice to their attackers is something I fully support,” said Faru. “However, the merging of two large organisations cannot be rushed. I am sure it will proceed when the time is right,” he added with a smile. The Huntmaster ordered his Guardians to take a seat and then turned to his peer. “Now, Outleader, if you would be so kind to show me the information you have currently gathered on this case.”

“Of course.”

Kodessa took Faru over to the main wall of the room, where an array of images and information had been loosely connected together by coloured pieces of string. The whole thing was like a web, creeping out along the wall.

It was a large web.

Faru walked slowly up and down the wall, allowing the information in front of him sink in and materialise in his mind’s eye. It came to him as a swirl of colours and hues that most would have been completely unable to comprehend. But for the Huntmaster, it was as good as what any Chosen could see with their own eyes – and in some ways even better. He muttered to himself as he analysed what he saw – reports of missing people – young, old, rich and poor. He tried to identify a connection between them, but there seemed to be no tangible link. Those taken were from all walks of life, and the only constant appeared to be that the attacks were random.

That and the fact that they are all human.

“Seventy-six missing,” he said after a moment.

Huntmaster Kodessa made a sound of agreement. “Seventy-six people missing over the last six months, including the mayor’s son.”

Three gave a humourless laugh. “That explains the Alliance’s sudden interest. The Mayor is a big benefactor to the HASEA isn’t he?”

Faru glared at his Guardian, his intense white eyes saying everything he needed to. The young woman folded her arms across her chest. “I apologise Outleader, please continue.”

“Thank you Huntmaster. As I was saying, seventy-six missing and the rate of disappearance is growing. There have been five in the last week alone. Six if your theory about that poor lady of the night is correct.”

“Interesting. A growth could mean that some form of deadline is approaching.”

“How do you mean?”

“It is possible for example, that these individuals could have been taken to fulfil some type of ritualistic sacrifice on some approaching date of importance.” He lowered his voice until he was talking only to himself. “This does however, seem unlikely. The next Umbraic date of holy significance is on Hallows Eve, and that is still more than six weeks away. Plus I have never heard of more than one sacrifice being offered in efforts to raise the Dragon God, let alone Bloodlings partaking in Pandemonian customs.” He shook his head and said louder, “No, sacrifice is not the answer to this question.”

“So what is the answer?”

Faru kept staring at the myriad of information on the wall, his powerful mind flicking through everything, trying to establish some kind of connection that would give them a clue to follow.

It didn’t take him long to find one.

He whirled around to face Kodessa, pointing a finger at a grainy photograph of the Mayor’s son, who was standing with his father in a grand ballroom. “In all cases, these kidnappings were done very quickly,” he said, pointing at the wall. “For example, the Mayor’s son. It says in the notes that he was at the theatre and disappeared during the interval when he stepped outside for a cigarette. That could only be a window of five minutes at the most.”

“Correct,” said Kodessa. “According to the police report his father noticed he was gone when he went out to fetch him. They were together only moments before.”

Faru moved his finger to a newspaper article, discussing the disappearance of a local fisherman. “And this gentleman vanished when he went to the rear of his boat to untangle a fishing reel. His brother reported that one minute he was there, and the next he was simply gone. He heard no splash to indicate he had fallen overboard, correct?”

Kodessa nodded. His expression was growing curious, as was everyone else’s in the room.

“What have you noticed, Huntmaster?” asked Two.

“I am confident there is a unifying factor with all these victims. Something that is not related to age, gender or race. Unfortunately as yet I cannot be certain of what it is.” He turned away from the board to face the Outleader and his own Guardians. “I am certain of something else though. The individual responsible has a very short window in which to commit these kidnappings. They do so in a very abrupt fashion and abort immediately if not able to carry out their duty. Perhaps this hurry causes them to make mistakes.”

The Pixie unfolded her arms. “That would explain the first dead man. Maybe he struggled too much and caused a scene. Maybe biting him was to shut him up.”

“A bite causes instant paralysis,” agreed Two. “That would certainly keep him quiet.”

“It also be an explanation for the other pair,” added Kodessa. “They were killed in a very brutal, rushed manner. It is entirely possible that they were in the way of the kidnapper and his target.”

“Which means that these kidnappings must be premeditated, sir,” said Five, “at least to a certain degree.” He leaned forward, placing his hands flat on the table. “Collateral damage is risky. It would be much easier to just retreat and try someone else, unless your plan was to take a specific person. If that was me then I’d make sure there were no witnesses.”

“Exactly.”

The Outleader moved around the table and sat down, steepling his fingers together. “That doesn’t give us much new information to work with.”

Faru raised a finger. “My apologies Outleader, I am getting to my point. Can you please clarify something for me; you have Guardian patrols on the Belfast streets do you not?”

“Of course, although they have not been necessary until recently.”

“These patrols, what numbers are we speaking of?”

“Of a normal evening about eight or so patrol the town.”

“Do they travel in groups?”

“No, they operate by themselves to cover more ground. However, if a situation arises then they will join one another to investigate.”

The Huntmaster moved over the table and leaned on it, staring his blank, white eyes at his peer. “If one of these situations does arise, how do your Guardians communicate with one another to make others aware?”

“We have set up communication relays around the town. Hidden but easily accessible speakergrams. They must report to one another every thirty minutes regardless of whether there is a situation or not, so that everyone can be accounted for.”

“A very similar conduct to our patrols in London.”

“I should think so,” replied Kodessa. “It was my technicians who provided the Alliance with the speakergram technology and its potential applications.”

Faru gave a smile in response. “And very effective the system is too. My question to you however, is whether any of your patrols ever reported seeing any kind of commotion recently?”

“Not that I can think of.”

“No reports of someone being spirited away by a captor or signs of a struggle? Nothing at all?”

The Outleader straightened up in his chair. “No, none of them have reported any of the disappearances to me. It was always caught by another, unrelated individual, such as a citizen or the police.”

“Does that not appear to be a little strange to you?”

“Now that I think about it, I suppose it is a little odd. My Guardians are trained to know the signs of imminent attacks and what to look for. They also know the streets of Belfast and the local areas like the backs of their hands. If anyone was going to have a good chance of find the person doing this, it would be them.”

Faru slapped a hand down on the table causing a few of the Guardians to start. “Exactly! And what that means is that the person who is committing these acts has an intimate knowledge of your operations. They know where the best places to collect their targets are – places where Guardians won’t be, and they know where others are going to be so that they can avoid detection. They are under pressure because they only have a short amount of time before they must communicate their whereabouts to all others on patrol. This makes them rush, and because they are rushing, they make mistakes.”

There were murmurs from the Guardians at the table as they caught up with Faru’s rapid logic. Kodessa stood up, sending his chair skittering out behind him. “You cannot be suggesting what I think you are?”

Faru straightened up and folded his arms behind his back, his shimmering eyes locking with the Outleader’s.

“I am afraid so. I believe that the individual committing these kidnappings is a Guardian.”

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