She gestured violently at the next mine shaft, where the elevator had already begun its descent.
The operator shook his head, obviously not willing to question it. He hit the button and the floor jerked beneath Laura’s feet. She pressed harder against the grille.
“Cherry?” she called. “Cherry, what’s going on?”
Mateo turned to her first, abnormally pale and holding some kind of shroud. “Risen!” he yelped. “Ra—risen! He’s walking! It’s impossible, but he’s walking!”
“Be careful!” Cherry shouted. “Something’s down there! I don’t know what the hell it is, but it’s not good!”
“What do you mean?” said Laura.
“I said, it’s not—”
A nearby pipe shot out a burst of hissing steam. The sound covered up Cherry’s voice. The Ranger cupped hands around her mouth and shouted, but Laura couldn’t make out any words over the noise.
“Not good? What kind of ‘not good’ are they talking about? Infestations?” she whispered.
“Cherry can’t sense them,” said Okane. “I don’t know what else she could mean, though.”
Cherry couldn’t sense infestations, but she could spot people. Bad people in the mines? The Rexian Sweepers had fled the city without looking back, and Juliana had no ready sidekicks. That only left the mobs. If the Mad Dogs had planted the Falling Infestation for some convoluted reason, would they set up a secondary infestation to push this hidden agenda? Without knowing their goal Laura couldn’t predict their moves, but she knew one thing for sure: if they did plan another catastrophe, she’d stop it before it grew. She’d keep it from eating anyone.
“Keep an eye out in the tunnels,” she said. “This smells like dog.”
The elevator took them down into the dark. They went for long stretches of blackness, only kept from blindness by a single bulb in the elevator ceiling and the glimpses of light as they passed level after lit level. When they reached the fifth, the grilles opened to expel the passengers. Laura and Okane stood aside as miners flooded out. Once the last man left, the grilles closed and they rattled down again. The farther they went, the sharper the chill in the air.
The grilles opened again to the seventh level and they stepped out. Laura wasn’t sure what she’d expected to see in a mine, but a completely wood-paneled space hadn’t occurred to her at all. Thick wooden beams supported both the roof and a wooden ceiling, and it seemed the builders had been determined to block out any hint of rocky wall with the same wood slats. Electrical cords looped overhead, traveling out of sight in most cases while a thicker cable connected lights in a line along the ceiling. The floor was so dark it looked black, but the shine of metal tracks glinted through the grime. These tracks forked off, a set for each of the four branching paths.
Directly in front of them, a map hung nailed to the wall. The circle patterns could easily be interpreted as the city’s walls, but the map sprawled far beyond these, and Laura couldn’t make out what all the color-coding meant. Okane seemed to understand it perfectly, because he stepped up to it and ran a finger over the Third Quarter line.
“As I understand, no one actually mines in the seventh level anymore,” he said. His quiet voice echoed ever so slightly. “The real valuable stuff is deeper down or out, and they didn’t want to disturb the Gin.”
“Miners have gotten superstitious about Silverstones,” said Laura. “They’re scared of getting close to begin with.”
“The closest one is…” His finger followed the line, from the red dot of their location to a black “X” chamber. “Here. We’ll reach it if we go left.”
They took the left path, walking in the middle of the tracks. Laura hoped no coal car would come to mow them down, but the farther they went, the less she feared. Despite the lights, there was no movement, no sound apart from their own. The only muffled noise she could detect came from below. They were alone in the cold.
“What are we looking for, exactly?” she asked after a while.
“The Pits are in alcoves along the main circuit, following the walls.”
“Did I see more of those marks on other Quarter lines? We might have to go deeper to reach some.”
“There were more circuits originally. The outermost Pits were in the Third Quarter, so we should be on track.”
“We must’ve had a hell of a lot of Pits.”
“This was the Sweeper city, wasn’t it?”
“Point taken.”
“There were originally fifteen Pits in Amicae,” Okane explained. “The three in the First Quarter haven’t been touched, but others were sunk in smaller sets over the years. There were three more in the Second Quarter, and nine in the Third. I’m glad they’re not all active. We’d need a huge amount of Sweepers to maintain them.”
“At one point we had them. I wonder what those first Sinclairs would think if they could see the state of the Sweepers now: only one Sweeper, and she’s a murderous backstabber.”
“I think they might cry.”
“It makes me want to cry.”
“I guess that man in Rex was right,” Okane sighed. “The weakest don’t need much to undo them.”
Laura snorted. “We aren’t weak. Big operations like Puer couldn’t handle what we managed with just two or three of us, even Joseph Blair admitted it. If we had the people, we’d be amazing.”
“A moot point when there’s no people.”
“Maybe we should make that our job. Recruiting more people. Maybe even start up a separate, independent Sweeper business! You have all the equipment, so it’s not too far-fetched. The Council wouldn’t have any say if we’re a business apart from them. But then we’d have to renegotiate all the old agreements without their help. That would take some figuring out. We’d have to recruit anyway.”
“If Clae couldn’t recruit, what makes you think we can?”
“Clae didn’t have our flexibility,” she pointed out. “No one’s going to join a department they don’t believe exists, and with the wall policy gone, we don’t have that issue. We have notoriety. We can attract all the daredevils in the city if we play our cards right.”
Okane smiled at first, but the mirth slid quickly from his face. He stopped short of the corner, his eyes down, pondering. Laura stood next to him, suddenly concerned.
“Hey, we don’t have to take the daredevils. We can vet people as they come in. I’m sure we’ll find someone we’ll get along with.”
“Can - - -, um—” He raised one finger, brow furrowing.
Laura went quiet. The mine’s silence weighed heavily on her, but Okane tilted his head just slightly, as if straining to hear something. She stepped closer and whispered, “What are you hearing?”
“I don’t think we’re alone down here.”
Laura frowned, fighting the urge to peer around the corner. “Is it a miner?”
“No. Whoever it is, they’re broadcasting their intentions. They feel malevolent. They feel like—” He sucked in a breath and gave her a horrified look. “This is bad. It’s an enemy.”
If he was that certain, Laura wouldn’t question it.
They slinked close to the wall and ducked down. Okane pulled a spare kin gun from his belt, and Laura unearthed one of her few Eggs. She held her breath, straining her ears. Footsteps came from the next tunnel, slow and quiet. If she hadn’t been waiting for it she never would’ve noticed even in the silence of the mine. Whoever it was moved at a snail’s pace. Surely a miner would stride through as if he owned the place? As the quiet stretched out, this person gained speed, closer and closer. Does he think we’re gone? Laura wondered. Soon the slight crunch of dirt came from barely two feet away, and then stopped entirely. Laura gritted her teeth, grip tightening.
A face appeared. The stranger barely had time to peer around the corner before Laura lunged. She smashed the butt of her hand into the other’s nose, causing him to reel backward. Her hand stung but she ignored it, launching forward to overbalance him entirely; he hit the floor with a thu
d. Okane leapt out after her, kicking the stranger’s hand and causing the gun there to skitter out of his grip. The stranger thrashed, trying to regain his feet, but they pinned him, and Okane jabbed the gun into his temple.
“Stop moving!” he ordered.
The stranger stilled. He glared up at them with bright blue eyes, blood streaming from his nose. Despite the grime on his face, the number tattoo remained bold and legible. He bared his teeth in a grin. The blood bubbled as he gave a snort of laughter.
“Hello, paragon.”
23
JUGGERNAUT
The blood drained from Okane’s face.
“Were - - - looking for me?” he whispered.
“Don’t flatter - - -rself,” the Sweeper sneered. “Filth won’t be needed when Rex finishes its march. We’re already on the brink of victory.”
“This is what you call victory, huh? Crawling around underground like a worm?” Laura gripped his arm tighter and twisted, just enough for his expression to twitch in pain. “Rex was marching south. What are you doing here?”
“Nothing a weak mind could comprehend.”
“So you don’t even know what you’re doing?”
“A pawn doesn’t need to question the king.”
“Where are your handlers?” Laura demanded. In my experience they move in odd numbers, typically multiples of three. Two more Sweepers had to be lurking somewhere nearby.
“The voices are with the body.”
“Where’s the ‘body’ then? How many Sweepers did you bring?”
The Sweeper laughed again. “Weaklings have no room in Rex’s glorious future. Amicae will burn.”
That wasn’t a number, but it gave a good idea: enough Sweepers to attack the city and expect victory. Had the entire march turned around?
“Keep hold of him,” she hissed, jumping up.
“Where are - - - going?”
“There are telephones by the elevators. We have to warn someone.”
“Ha! It won’t make a difference.”
Laura scoffed as she looked around, judging the fastest route to take. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
“Because they’re already here.”
Okane barely had time to look up and dive out of the way. A bullet hit the ground where he’d been, sending up a puff of dirt. The shot echoed around the barricaded walls, followed by a rain of bullets. Laura and Okane tumbled around the corner again.
“Shit! Were those more Sweepers?” Laura winced as a chunk of wood blasted free of the wall.
“A whole pack of them, from one of the other passages. This one must’ve been a scout,” Okane wheezed, pulling back the safety on the gun.
Said scout hauled himself up, but before he could get far a bullet smashed into his skull. Laura jolted back at the spatter of blood.
“Whatever information you got out of him, it’ll do you no good,” someone called. The “you” remained prominent in his speech. It must be a handler. “Come out where we can see you. Give up and we won’t hurt you.”
After they willingly killed one of their own?
“Not a chance in hell!” Laura yelled.
The handler obviously hadn’t expected otherwise, but he sounded amused as he replied, “If you insist on impeding us, I’m afraid there will be consequences.”
“Bring it on, ugly!”
“Laura!” Okane hissed. “We have one kin gun, an Egg, and maybe three Bijou. We are not equipped to deal with this!”
“All we have to do is make a big enough commotion,” said Laura.
“In a mine? Who’ll hear us?”
“Miners, obviously!”
Okane swore and raised the gun. During their bickering a Sweeper had snuck up on them. He rounded the corner with a glowing blade. Laura jumped aside while Okane reeled back. The blade collided with the wall and stuck deep in the wood as two more Sweepers rounded the bend. The kin gun fired, lodging two rounds in the first man’s abdomen before the bullets burst with a sizzling yellow light and the smell of burning flesh. More blood splattered; the Sweeper staggered back with a yowl, bowling into more reinforcements. A woman sidestepped him, swiping with her own blade. A hazy reddish afterglow arced in its path. Okane jerked away, tried to aim the gun again, but she moved too fast, closing in and forcing him to retreat.
Laura tried to get in under her swing, but hadn’t so much as twitched before the next Sweeper charged. This one carried no blade, but her left arm was encased in a bulky gauntlet, not unlike the ones Laura had glimpsed in the armory. That alone made her retreat. The Sweeper roared loud enough to make her hair stand on end. Light flared up the gauntlet’s sides and knuckles, twisting pictographs of blazing red that blurred as it hit the ground. Her fist dug into the earth up to her wrist. Shots of light branched into the surrounding ground before dirt erupted into the air with a bang.
Laura stepped back from the resulting cloud, narrowing her eyes against the grit. A blur of red was her only warning before the Sweeper bulled out of the dust, swinging her arm again. Laura ducked. The gauntlet whistled overhead. Laura could feel heat radiating from it, felt the resulting breeze tug at her hair. Gritting her teeth, she lunged and tackled the other woman at the stomach. The Sweeper was sturdier than Laura expected. She staggered only two steps before snarling and swatting. It wasn’t even a good hit, but Laura screeched in pain. The smell of burning was almost overwhelming. She let go before a heavier blow could come. The Sweeper followed her movement, one strong step and another swing of the glove creating another crater in the floor. Laura rolled out of reach and back to her feet.
Debris bounced off her coat as she dug into her bag. The Sweeper was incoming again. She grabbed the first thing her fingers touched and brought it up as she moved to block. Basic, Clae had told her once, walking her through the motions as if it was obvious that someone would one day go after her in a fistfight. Step to the outside. Deflect. Once they’re off balance and open, strike. Hand one knocked the punch aside so the crackling fingers missed her entirely, driven still farther with a strike of her right forearm. But as she blocked, she jammed the item—Bijou, she realized belatedly—into one of the glowing grooves by the elbow. This was a bad idea. She knew it the moment she saw the Bijou changing color, from gold to something bronzy.
“Oh, hell,” she muttered, and fled.
The Sweeper moved to follow, but the Bijou activated and she went no farther. The bead went off with such a shrill noise the entire tunnel shook. Sparks burst into existence, shooting out at high speed to scorch anything close. One caught the Sweeper full in the face while others blackened the walls and snapped at incoming reinforcements. The grooves of the gauntlet went white hot, metal shuddering about it before the whole thing exploded. The tunnel lit up like a firework. The blast shook everything, snapping and burning wood, scorching dirt, a blinding cacophony that drowned out any sight or sound of the Rexians.
Laura retreated further toward the elevators, looking around wildly. Okane hugged the wall to her left; the flashing light illuminated his torn coat. He took another Bijou from his bag and threw it into the blaze before them. Another crack and this activated too, lending the haze a yellowish luster and spewing sparks to such an extent the light cables on the ceiling snapped. The bulbs closest to the fray went out, while the others rattled so hard some swung loose from their holders. The temperature fluctuated with the sudden rush of heat, carrying with it dirt, splinters, and debris.
“Somebody had to have heard that,” said Laura, muffled now as she pulled her bandana up. “Let’s start retreating.”
“How far?” Okane walked sideways, keeping his back to the wall and watchful eyes on the clearing smoke.
“Far enough for help to reach us. Not far enough that these goons can get to the elevators.”
“Something tells me that’s a very fine line.”
Even before the cloud settled, Rexians came running out. The residual energy caught a few, who collapsed as kin zapped by their legs, but they made no sound of distre
ss and ten more trampled over them with no remorse.
The closest Sweeper jerked back as if wrenched by the shoulder. Ka-clack, came a sound from up the tunnel. Had another Rexian circled from behind? Laura whipped around. Another figure advanced toward them, rifle in his hands. His pale eyes narrowed and he pulled the trigger again; this time the crack of the bullet echoed loudly, and the Sweeper fell entirely. Laura’s heart beat in her throat. Holy shit. That couldn’t be—
“Grim?” she spluttered.
“Laura!”
At Okane’s shout she ducked. Good thing too, because the Rexians hadn’t reacted at all to the new addition beyond spreading their attack. A blade clanged into the wall where she’d been. She pulled an Egg from her bag, clacked it, and swung. It rolled into the Rexians’ midst before blowing. Few had bothered getting out of the way—Rex’s Eggs mustn’t burn half as harsh, but this one sizzled angrily. The blast engulfed three Sweepers and seared any close to it, crackling up toward the ceiling. Screams echoed off the walls. A few fell flailing, skin wrecked and peeling off the bone. Laura fought to keep down her breakfast, hands shaking as she felt for another Egg.
Better them than me, she thought desperately, willing it to be true. Them before me!
A Sweeper lifted a gun at her, only for a rifle blast to catch him in the side; his bullet hit the lightbulb instead. The bulb died at once, as did all the others branching down their tunnel. Wires sparked, casting them all in sharp relief. Grim was almost upon them now. Another gun surfaced among the Rexians. Two sharp cracks and he staggered, but he didn’t fall. The bullets hit with a screech, more like metal on metal than any flesh sound. Grim kept on as if uninjured, raised the rifle again. One, two more Sweepers went down. At last the Rexians paused. They milled, some hesitating while others charged into their backs. The handler swore loudly over the din.
“Around the bend,” Grim barked.
Laura and Okane ducked around the next corner and he backed in after them.
“What are you doing down here?” he asked.
The Monstrous Citadel Page 39
