Soul Census - War of Shadows - Book 1

Chapter 3.2 - Margarete

Earth Date: 15th of August 1939 CE
Location: Nyack, New York, USA, Earth

The two Census agents walked side by side, heading east to the location of the CLOG event. He could see the moonlit horizon of the Hudson River drew closer, and the wonderful scent of rotten eggs get stronger. As Maddock finished his second Lucky Strike, he wondered if they were soon going to have to start paddling to their destination.

“I thought you said it was just down the road?” Maddock said. “My dogs are killing me, mac.”

Wolfe glanced at his watch. “Sorry, it looked closer on the map.”

“What map?” Maddock asked as he flicked a cigarette to the sidewalk. “And why do you keep looking at your watch? You got a hot date or something?”

“Quit littering.” Wolfe halted, pointing to a nearby wastebasket.

Maddock ignored him and dug into his pocket for a deck. Wolfe bent down to pick up the cigarette butt and dumped it into the wastebasket. Maddock shrugged apathetically as he lit up the next one.

“Last pack you get from me, Agent,” Wolfe said before continuing on.

They soon reached the east edge of Nyack, bordering the river. A chained gate greeted them, guarding the entrance to the shipyard beyond. On the other side, hazy lighting from bug-swarmed lamps illuminated a wood-plank walkway directly ahead that stretched out into a pier.

Warehouses lined the right side, their walls stacked with containers and rusty barrels. Farther out, Maddock could see a few ships and smaller boats mated to a long, narrow dock. One of them caught his attention. It was a lone freighter docked at the port which was surrounded by a chain-link fence.

Maddock flicked a spent cigarette to the ground at Wolfe’s feet. “Go fetch,” Maddock said as Wolfe bent down to pick it up.

To Maddock’s amusement, a sudden wind blew it into the water.

Wolfe let it go, but not without casting a sneer at him.

“You know, those things aren’t good for you,” Wolfe said.

“Oh baloney! My throat’s fine.” he said, then pointed to the lock. “I’m going to bet that you don’t have a pair of bolt cutters in your backpack.”

“That would be a winning bet, Agent,” Wolfe said.

“Well, shooting is likely to raise some alarms, so what are we going to do now, genius?”

Wolfe walked up and inspected it before answering, “It’s plain steel. Just pull it off.”

Maddock shook his head and pulled out his heater. “You sure are dry. Got any idea what we’re facing in there before I start making noise?”

Wolfe grabbed the barrel and pushed it down. “Put that away. You’ll alert everyone in Nyack to our presence. Try to rip off the lock with your hands instead.”

Maddock raised his eyebrows. “You were serious about that? You know I’m plenty rugged, but even I’m not that strong, pal.”

“I guess you don’t remember how to yet,” Wolfe said.

He then brushed passed Maddock, grabbed the lock, and pulled. To Maddock’s surprise, it snapped off the gate, leaving the chains dangling.

“What the …” Maddock said. “What’s the trick?”

Wolfe pushed the gate open and walked in, drawing out his iron as he entered. The shipyard was devoid of people and mostly silent. Maddock could hear the water striking the shore, and the feeling of a cool, wet breeze hit him. They walked through a line of barrels and other naval machinery until they reached a stack of shipping containers near the dock.

Maddock noticed that Wolfe appeared to be using his watch to guide them. Apparently, it was the “map” he’d been referring to earlier.

“Just what are we looking for here, bub?” Maddock asked. “Another demon? Ghost? Possession? What?”

Wolfe abruptly lifted his foot up off the ground and began untying his shoe. He gestured ahead past Maddock with his chin.

“The containers?” Maddock said.

Wolfe ignored the question while taking off his other shoe. Maddock looked past the containers to a docked freighter bearing the name Margarete on its bow. A couple of armed men with rifles patrolled her deck. It appeared that the conspicuous ship was Wolfe’s intended target.

Maddock glanced around its perimeter, trying to ascertain a way aboard—no stairs, no walkways, no ladders. It appeared that they were going to paddle to their destination after all.

“Who are they?” Maddock said. “And what’s Census want with this boat?”

“I don’t have time to explain it all,” Wolfe said, then looked down at his watch as he spoke. “They’re German spies from the Nazi government. Well-trained operatives—former soldiers, most of them. They are guarding something important—a spiritual relic of sorts.”

“Germans?” Maddock said. “How do you know all this? That watch telling you or something?”

“Actually, yes,” Wolfe said.

Maddock looked down at his Census-issued watch. It seemed to have the same technology as the Census Monolith, with numbers and letters magically appearing on its glass face, but for him, all it did was tell the time.

“My watch is a little more special than yours,” Wolfe said.

“Of course it is,” Maddock said dryly. “So tell me, know-it-all, what do the Huns want with this relic?”

“As I said, I don’t have time to explain.”

“You never seem to, bub. You know, this same old story of yours is really beginning to rub me the wrong way.”

Wolfe gave him a confused look.

“Don’t act like a boob,” Maddock said. “You are always holding out on me when I ask questions and instead tell me shit that doesn’t matter.”

Wolfe lowered his gaze. “It’s not that I’m holding out,” he began. “Well, I am to some extent… but there is always a reason if I don’t tell you everything all at once—and always a good reason.”

Maddock marched toward him. “Yeah?” he said, tapping a finger on Wolfe’s chest. “And just what is the ‘good’ reason holding you back now?”

Maddock felt a rumbling that was so strong it rattled the wood planking of the pier. He couldn’t tell what caused it.

“The good reason is we don’t seem to have the time,” Wolfe said.

Then Wolfe brushed passed him, gazing at the Margarete. “There’s four guards on the deck,” he said. “With more sleeping in their bunks right now.”

Maddock surveyed the deck, spotting two guards. He hoped to find another way aboard to avoid getting his dogs wet, but there were no visible means.

“I only see two of them on deck,” Maddock said as he began unfastening a shoe.

“There are four,” Wolfe said. “Why are you taking your shoe off?”

“So I can smack you with it,” Maddock said. “I don’t want to get my shoes wet swimming, bub. Why else?”

“You’re not swimming,” Wolfe said.

“Oh? So you expecting me to sprout wings, genius? How else are we getting aboard?”

“Who said you’re going aboard?” Wolfe said. “You’re staying here while I board the vessel.”

“What?” Maddock said. “Wait, this isn’t because you’re sore over that littering thing, is it?”

“I need you here,” Wolfe said.

After what he’d seen earlier in that house, Maddock felt like smacking Wolfe with his shoe.

“Not a chance of that, pal,” he said. “I’m not letting you go in there alone to get pasted. You need me.”

“I need you, right here,” Wolfe said. “I need you to be ready to call reinforcements when the time is right.”

Wolfe yanked Maddock’s backpack from him.

“Hey, that’s got my stuff in it,” Maddock said.

Wolfe ignored him and dug into it. His hand emerged with that dingus—the triangular one with what looked like a ruby in the center. He remembered Wolfe had called it a funny name… a French-sounding word.

Wolfe set the thing on the ground, then went into his own backpack and pulled out an identical-looking one. He held the two devices side by side. Maddock noticed the jewel from Wolfe’s was glowing red.

“These are Ouija Transponders,” Wolfe explained. “I will have mine with me, and you will keep the other—they act together to connect to the other side. If needed, it will create a passage to bring help from the Spirit Realm.”

“Help from the other side?” Maddock said. “Why would we need that? We can take these German palookas out together.”

“It’s not the Germans I’m worried about,” Wolfe said.

Maddock waited for him to explain, but he clammed up as usual.

“Quit being tight-lipped, asshole,” Maddock said. “What else is out there?”

Wolfe took in a breath. “Hopefully, nothing’s out there but German spies. However, based on what happened back at the house… there may be Rattlers here. The same thing that took out that bartender’s father. Very aggressive, very strong, hard to kill.”

“Like New York cockroaches,” Maddock said. “I’ve stepped on plenty of those.”

Maddock grabbed his backpack from Wolfe and reached into it, drawing out his scimitar. He angled the blade, allowing the light from a streetlamp to glint off it. Razor-sharp, without a single scratch or hint of demon blood on it—as if the sword had magically cleaned itself.

“A roach can live without its head for days,” Maddock said, swinging his blade in the air. “If I chop a Rattler’s head off, will it take days to die?”

Wolfe put his hand on the blade, drawing it down. “No. But that would only happen if it stuck its head out, asking for death. Rattlers don’t scurry off like roaches. They will come at you with hell’s fury.”

“Hell?” Maddock said. Images popped into his mind of demons with pitchforks torturing damned souls in cauldrons of fire. “Is there a hell?”

Wolfe adjusted his glasses and looked off in thought before answering, “In my time, I have traveled through many worlds. You can be comforted in knowing that none of them compare to the difficulties of this one. If your soul can survive the human world, you can endure anything.”

Maddock digested that, thoughts of the Great War rising up from the ashes of memory. Images flashed in his mind of the death he had seen in all his travels, and the new horrors he had seen since joining Census.

“So this world is like military boot camp,” Maddock mused. “I guess my soul has been battle hardened, then.”

Wolfe gave him a surprised look. “Insightful observation. What you just said is the reason the Spirit Realm is so interested in this world. We deal with threats that haunt both our world and theirs.”

Wolfe looked off in the distance, his gaze seeming to go far beyond the pier. Maddock had seen that look before… on soldiers who came back from the Great War, ones who had seen too much. He wondered how many wars Wolfe had been in throughout his incarnations.

“Any soul that passes Earth can endure anything.” Wolfe said, “Such veterans have a role to play in this otherworldly battlefield. One that only we can play.”

Maddock flipped that one over in his mind. In light of what he had seen, it made sense that the powers in the Spirit Realm would use the grunts of humanity to do their dirty work. No matter what plane of existence he was in, it seemed there was always a natural order where the powerful subjugated the weak to wage their wars.

“We’re just pawns, then,” Maddock said. “Grunts in a war we didn’t start. Typical.”

Wolfe smiled. “Even if the last bit was true, you’re not the type to sit out any war, Maddy. Not in the thousands of Earth years and hundreds of wars you’ve been involved in. Never have you been a mere pawn in any of them.”

Something about what he said, and the way he said it, triggered something in Maddock—a memory, a feeling. Wolfe was telling him something there, something about his past, about their past together.

“You did well at the Nyack house,” Wolfe said. “But you’re not ready to go against a Rattler. That is final.” His expression darkened as he enunciated his next words. “If you disobey my directive, I will have you expelled from Census. I will sideline you from this war. Is that understood?”

Maddock did not like it, but he did not want to be kicked out of the Agency either. “So you’re going to go in there alone?” he said. “If these Rattlers are as tough as you say, how can you handle them by yourself?”

Wolfe smiled. “Are you worried about me, Maddy? I’m touched. As I said, I will have backup. You will call in Furies from the other side if there are any Rattlers aboard.”

“What are Furies?” Maddock was almost afraid to ask.

“I don’t have—” Wolfe started.

“Time to explain,” Maddock cut in. “Yeah, I figured.”

It seemed that Wolfe was not going to change his mind on this one. But that doesn’t mean I won’t get a chance to paste some Huns tonight.

Wolfe drew his attention back to the Ouija Transponders. “Do not press that gem on yours,” he said, picking his up. “Not until I give you the go-ahead. It is very important that you wait for my signal.”

“And what signal is that?” Maddock said.

“Your watch.” Wolfe tapped his wrist. “It will beep. When it does, and only when it does, you press down on the gem.”

Maddock looked over the transponder once more before shoving it into his pocket. They then both walked over to the water’s edge near the pier. Wolfe first dipped a toe in to test the water.

“Colder than a witch’s nipple,” he muttered, then turned to face Maddock. “Listen, Agent, when these Furies from the other side arrive, they will come down on everything like a rain of fire. So be ready to make tracks. You don’t want them mistaking you for a Rattler. I can assure you it wouldn’t be a pleasant experience.”

Wolfe handed his backpack to Maddock to hold on to, then cocked his pistol before holstering it. He sat on the edge and was about to slide in the water when he seemed to realize he still had his glasses on. He took them off and handed them over to Maddock.

“Sure you don’t want to wear them?” Maddock said, taking them. “To bring you comfort and all?” he added with a grin.

“Just take good care of them,” Wolfe said, a tight expression on his face. “The frames are older than you can imagine, and you have no idea what I went through to find them. Good luck, Agent.”

“You too, four—” Maddock started to say, but Wolfe was already underwater. He watched as Wolfe came up slowly and then treaded lightly toward the ship, disappearing into the darkness leading up to the Margarete.

Maddock winced from a pain in his leg—the snake’s fire venom. Perhaps it was better that Wolfe was doing this one without him. The soreness from the fight at the Nyack house was catching up to him. Maddock glanced around the shipyard. Save for the bimbos on the deck of the Margarete, he saw no other activity.

Nevertheless, he felt weird just standing there on the pier with his bags, looking like some dope peddler. He grabbed his loot and returned to the camouflage of the shipping containers, where he could wait for Wolfe’s signal.

Maddock leaned against the containers, sorting out the two backpacks. He held Wolfe’s glasses and decided to try them on for fun. To his surprise, his vision was not blurred. He took them off to inspect the lenses and realized that they were not lenses at all—just clear glass. Wolfe wasn’t kidding when he said he didn’t really need them. They’re just for looks!

Maddock leaned against the warehouse container while staring out at the Margarete. He soon spotted Wolfe approaching the ship’s aft. The guards were patrolling the opposite end, which would give Wolfe the opportunity he was looking for.

Wolfe swam to a thick chain that rose up from the water to the deck—an anchor, maybe. He grabbed it and pulled himself slowly out of the water. Link by link he climbed up, dangling underneath the massive chain. It did not take him long to reach the top, where he showed off some of his acrobatic skills by swinging himself over to land on the deck. He then disappeared between some shipping containers.

With Wolfe infiltrating the ship, there was nothing for Maddock to do now but wait and hope for an opportunity that would allow him to get into some action. Bored, he dug into his pocket for a deck. Only one Lucky Strike left, and it was his last pack. Maddock hoped Wolfe was kidding about it being the last he would gift him. He put the pack away, figuring on saving it for later.

Maddock brought the Ouija out of his pocket to look at. The contraption resembled an oversized medallion: triangular with an organic, stony texture to it. Upon closer inspection, he realized the semi-transparent ruby in its center was a smooth, round shape and the hard crystalline structure was actually buried beneath it.

He was startled by repetitive gunfire—tommy guns! Maddock jumped out into the open with his sword, ready to attack—only to be reminded of the body of water in between him and the boat. Frustrated, he set his attention to whatever he could see on the Margarete.

Two of the Huns ran across the deck, shouting. More gunshots from the other side of the boat—it sounded like a combination of a Thompson machine gun and Wolfe’s 1911 pistol. A stiff flew off the deck and splashed in the water. He couldn’t tell who it was.

Maddock growled in frustration. If only he could be on that ship with Wolfe… He swung open the two backpacks, digging into Wolfe’s. There has to be one in here… Yes! Maddock emerged with a pair of binoculars from Wolfe’s pack. Gazing through them, he could better dissect the caper on the ship.

Wolfe came into focus, lurking at the end of the deck, just out of sight of the two prowling guards on the other end of the boat. They were clearly on alert for what had caused the disturbance. In a strange move, Wolfe gave away his position by firing a couple of blind shots from behind the cover of a wall.

The two Huns responded with their Chicago typewriters, squirting metal all over the deck. Smoke and flashes, with the tat-tat-tat resonating in Maddock’s ears. When they were done, wood splinters and debris marked the area where their intended target had been. Smoke swirled up from the barrels of their tommy guns. They slung their carbines over their back. Apparently out of ammunition, they then pulled out their pistols instead.

Maddock tried locating Wolfe, but the Huns had shot up the lighting on that side of the ship, and it was now too dark.

Where the hell are you, four-eyes?

Maddock swept his binoculars all around, finally catching sight of Wolfe. He was climbing up the side of the next deck, positioning himself above his quarry. Beneath him hung a lifeboat, secured with ropes that converged into pulleys. The latter seemed to be the focus of Wolfe’s interest, as he quickly began fiddling with it.

The unsuspecting Krauts moved right under the lifeboat, creeping forward with their heaters trained ahead. There was a loud snap, the screeching of ropes racing through pulleys, the crunch of cracking wood, ending with a wet thump. They did not even have a chance to squeal as the lifeboat crushed them.

With all the guards taking dirt naps, Wolfe made his way across the deck, finally stopping at the cargo hold. He then positioned himself on its edge and dropped in, disappearing from sight. Maddock put down his binoculars. This was the first time he’d seen Wolfe really get his hands dirty. More to four-eyes than meets the eye.

Maddock relaxed, allowing himself to let his guard down. He reflexively reached for his deck, pulling out his last Lucky Strike. He slapped his pockets, then rummaged through his bag. Panic set in when he realized he’d lost his lighter. Shit! He returned the unspent cigarette into his deck and put it away for later. Nothing to do now but wait for the signal …