Another tremor hit, sending cracks rippling over the concrete floor. Fountains of steam began erupting through the concrete. A gray haze filling the distant corridor.
“Where the hell is she?” Anton muttered. The helicopter lifted, its turbines thundering, hovering a foot off the shaking floor. He shouted, “What the hell, we’re not leaving without Li.” He moved to the edge of the bay doorway, his eyes narrowing. He’d have to go back into the fortress and get her. Something must have happened to stop her from reaching the hanger. She might be trapped. Why hadn’t she called out for help? “What’s happened to the damn tactical links?”
Dwayne shouted from the cockpit, “Offline. The uplink towers are fried.”
“I’m going back,” Anton declared, surging forward.
A pair of strong hands pulled him back. “Wait!” Arthur shouted, pointing toward the entrance into the sub-level-1 corridor.
Li blurred from the haze into the hanger. She dodged past a pair of steam plumes, leaping into the open bay of the last nightfalcon. Anton grabbed her, hugging her tightly. “You’re safe.”
Arthur called out to Dwayne, “Go! Go! Go!”
The turbines roared. Another tremor hit, the strongest yet. The cracks in the hanger roof ripping apart, great chunks of concrete and metal crashing left and right. The nightfalcon leapt upward like a wild thing. The spinning rotors clawing for purchase. It cleared the hanger roof, soaring into the open air.
Li pushed against his chest, leaning away from him. Her eyes were dark and flat, her lips pressed together. She snapped, “No. Not safe at all.”
Anton let her go. They stepped away from each other. The light in the world dimmed, and Anton wondered, Why?
Li glanced past Anton’s shoulder and spotted Francis lying dead on the cabin floor. Her eyes widened, and her hands flew to her mouth. Anton barely heard her over the thundering engines as she half-shouted, “Oh my God! Francis.”
Arthur called out from the middle of the cabin, “Dwayne, the top of the nemesis tower. We have two more to pick up.”
“Roger that, Arthur,” Dwayne called back. A sudden gust of hot wind hit the side of the nightfalcon like a fist. The airframe shuddered but held together, Dwayne swore before recovering control, ascending as fast as the nightfalcon could go.
The nemesis tower loomed in front of them. Beyond it, the sky was stained with darkness and fire. An Earthborn storm of molten rock and sheet lightning claiming the valley for its own.
* * *
The sun warred a losing battle with titanic demons composed of dark-gray smoke, raging tongues of flame, sheets of bright lightning, and vaulting steamers of glowing molten rock.
Chiara and Peter stood tall on the slanting neck of the beheaded nemesis tower as violent shadows overtook the valley. Another tremor struck the fortress, the whole tower wobbling on its base. Four nightfalcons had lifted off from the underground hanger. Three were powering away at top speed to the northeast, toward Salt Lake City.
The last nightfalcon was rising through the encroaching gloom. It shuddered and bucked, struggling against wild gusts of hot air rising and swirling around it. Chiara reached over and grasped Peter’s hand. “We’ll only get one chance at this.”
Peter nodded, “Don’t worry, we’ll get there.” He grasped a nearby prong of exposed steel - a temporary anchor against the rising winds.
The nightfalcon shuddered again. The screaming turbines cutting through the bass rumble rising from the Earth. The helicopter swept closer, tilting and turning to make a pass. It swept forward. Chiara prepared herself to ramp and leap, Peter stilled next to her, doing the same.
The nightfalcon bucked like a wild thing. It leaped forward, charging toward the top of the tower. Its engines roared like tortured demons. Peter and Chiara twisted and fell flat against the floor of the tower. The helicopter roaring above them, occluding the sun. Then it was gone.
Chiara flipped to her feet. The nightfalcon rose, then dipped, hovering fifty yards away - out of reach.
The tower wobbled again. Chiara looked down over the edge. A forest of hammerhead cruise missiles greeted her with upturned noses, beyond them twin plumes of steam erupted from the base of the tower. The tower shook, tilting a handful of degrees over toward the waiting nightfalcon. Anton and Li were visible within the cabin. They were grim faced, turning and shouting instructions to Dwayne, their voices smothered by the roar around them. The tactical links were offline. Whatever satellite relays operating within or near the fortress were destroyed by the molten demons rising from the Earth.
“Fuck it,” Peter swore in frustration.
“What are they waiting for?” Chiara asked, thoroughly perplexed.
Peter grinned lopsidedly, “Our last chance.”
The pilot tilted his head, the nightfalcon followed his body language and shuffled across. The distance between the top of the tower and the helicopter dropping to forty yards.
The plumes of steam thickened and darkened. One of the remaining fuel cells cooked off sending a blast of blue flame shooting through the wall of the tower. The tower rocked again. Steam and smoke rose in plumes, obscuring the nightfalcon with a wall of smoke thirty yards from the tower.
“Where are they?” Chiara whispered. Would the nightfalcon survive, or would Anton and the rest of the Mirovar force team plummet to their deaths in a flaming wreck.
The nightfalcon emerged from the smoke, turbines roaring, sweeping toward them.
Another fuel cell cooked off, exploding with a deafening crack beneath them. A flash of blue light reflecting off the bottom of the nightfalcon. The tower shuddered, tipping hard toward the nightfalcon. The nemesis tower began toppling to its doom.
The helicopter swept within ten yards of the tower. Chiara and Peter leaped at the same time. Anton and Li reached out from the open cabin doors, each anchored by an arm reaching back into the cabin. Chiara reached for Li’s hand and Anton reached for Peter’s. Hands met, gripping tightly. A moment later they landed safely on the cabin floor.
Arthur Slayne shouted, “Punch it, Dwayne!”
The nightfalcon soared away. Beneath them, the nemesis tower toppled. The crash lost in a round of secondary detonations that blew it into a cloud of debris, flashes of azure light reflecting off the clouds of dark smoke above them.
“Francis!” Peter shouted, his face blanching with shock.
Chiara whipped around to face where Peter was pointing with a shaking hand. Francis lay in blood-soaked clothes on the floor toward the front of the helicopter cabin. A trail of blood attested to the fact that someone had moved him forward and away from the open bay doors. Her throat tightened. There was so much she needed to tell him about what had happened the night Juliette and Yvette had died. She had wronged him and now he was dead. There could be no atonement for what she had done. No forgiveness for her betrayal. Something moved and settled deep within her soul. She’d been ill-used as a child, forged in agony into a living weapon to fulfill the will of her father. A man who had betrayed The Way of the Faithful by treating with vampires. She had been induced into living a lie, a false life that had brought nothing but the deaths of good men and women.
She stared out through the bay doorway at the geological chaos unleashed upon the Panopticon fortress. She rose out of an ocean of dark regret and found sanctuary on a new purpose. Her father was fixed before her mind’s eye.
There would be a reckoning written in blood.
* * *
The nightfalcon cleared the immediate vicinity of the fortress.
The helicopter was bearing southwest, flying a hundred feet above the valley floor at one hundred and eighty miles per hour.
Anton rubbed the sides of his nose, and then his temples. Francis’ death was hard to believe, but it was a miracle they hadn’t all been killed within the fortress. The Mirovars had saved his life, and helped him find a new home. Now that home no longer had a head. He sighed, and perhaps it no longer had a heart too. Perhaps the heart of the Mirovar
force team had died on the cliffs above Whitby and they had been proceeding on momentum more than anything else.
Anton glanced across at Li. He set aside his thoughts about Francis and the Mirovar force team and wondered what had kept Li back at the main server room. She whispered, her gaze distant, “Seventy-two percent … ninety-four percent … gone.” Her face bore an odd expression, like she’d just lost a dear friend but was also relieved. She looked at Anton and stated enigmatically, “They’re gone.”
“What’s gone?” Anton asked.
“The quantum processors.”
“What?” Anton asked. Her response leaving him perplexed.
She said in a tone of quiet intimacy, “I was networked with them.” She frowned at him, her dark eyes filled with something that could have been concern for him or fear of him. But she didn’t approach him or offer further explanation, and whatever was in her eyes wasn’t reflected in her reserved and alert posture.
“Oh,” Anton offered weakly, nonplussed by Li’s comments and sudden standoffish attitude. What do I say to that? He shook his head and stared past her at the fortress imploding into a small lake of fiery lava. What had really happened in the last five minutes? He’d seen Francis die and it had triggered something deep within him. He’d fought like a man possessed, but possessed by what? There’d been a wild freedom to it. A loss of all inhibition that’d felt like being some sort of god, answerable to no one and nothing. But who was he? If his grandfather hadn’t stopped him, he’d have killed everyone there.
He shook his head. Murdering a bunch of unarmed people wasn’t him. A memory exploded into his mind, of driving a commander tank through a military base in England. How many people who’d only turned up to work at a job, that as far as they knew was just another government job, had been shredded by rail gun spikes and cannon shots. He took a deep breath and sighed. He’d felt entirely justified when he’d done it. He was just trying to save Peter, but now it didn’t sit well with him anymore.
The world was a helluva lot more complicated than a Boston boy on an ice hockey scholarship should be expected to understand. Anton sighed, that boy was dead. As dead as yesterday. He could fill in the gaps of what had happened. He’d gone berserk, and worse - part of him had absolutely loved it. He had no answers, and he looked around the cabin. Peter was sitting in shock opposite where Francis lay, occasionally gesturing in a ‘what the fuck?’ manner. Chiara sat near him, her face filled with sadness and something deeper that spoke of adamantine purpose. A cold chill ascended Anton’s spine. It was not a look that he’d ever want to see on an enemy. He reflected briefly for a moment. Sometimes Chiara could be truly frightening. There was a kind of remorselessness about her that exceeded any he’d ever witnessed before, and he wondered what could have caused that in her.
He turned to his grandfather. He was wrapping the P-Case in a what looked like green kitchen cling wrap. Anton asked, “What’s that?”
“Faraday tape. It’s a smart material for blocking the P-Case’s beacon. We can’t disable the beacon without disabling the case, but we can shield it.”
Anton nodded. With the Panopticon down and the P-Case shrouded in a mobile Faraday cage, they were well on their way to escaping the Vampire Dominion.
Arthur put the finishing touches on the tape and looked up at Anton with a gleam in his eyes, and declared, “Mission accomplished.”
Anton flicked his gaze at Francis lying on the cabin floor and asked sadly, “At what price?”
Arthur followed his gaze. “A high price, but one we all volunteer to make once we become a vampire hunter.” He stepped to the side of the cabin and strapped the P-Case to webbing on the cabin wall. He turned back to Anton and reached out, placing his right hand on Anton’s shoulder. He leaned in close and offered firmly, “What happened to you can be controlled.”
“I damn well hope so.”
Arthur advised, “Don’t fear it.” He leaned in and patted Anton’s chest with his left hand. “Embrace the power within you.” He gazed into Anton’s eyes and stated confidently, “You’re very fast and strong, between the two of us we could kill Armitage.” His mouth opened into a tight, hungry grin. “Perhaps even Crane and her together.”
Anton rubbed his jaw and whispered just loud enough to be heard by Arthur, “What really happened back there? I lost it completely. I was berserk.”
Arthur grabbed both his shoulders with strong hands, and squeezed hard enough to cause pain. “It’s called the wild Ramp. No one else knows about it. But, don’t worry. I can do it too and I’ll show you how to master it.”
“But, I … I just … wanted to kill everyone.” Anton leaned in; his eyes lit by an intense light. “And I loved it. I really wanted to do it.” He stepped back and Arthur released his grip. Anton pulled his left hand down over his jaw. He looked away, the last of the fortress was sinking out of sight in the distance.
Arthur pulled him around and declared authoritatively, “The Order is like a monastery full of monks, all full of clarity of mind, will power, and silence. You and I,” he tapped Anton on the chest again, “we don’t belong there. We belong on a wet, windswept cliff face. Thunder and lightning sheeting overhead. Our blades drenched in the blood of our enemies and a wild roar on our lips.”
Anton looked into Arthur’s eyes.
A slight smile curled Arthur’s lips. “We’re not built for a quiet life.” He stepped aside, staring to the south. “Come with me Anton, we’ll take Crane and Armitage together.”
Anton frowned, then stepped next to Arthur and declared, “Yes, let’s do it. Let’s do it for Francis, Juliette, Yvette, and everyone who’s been lost to the vampires.”
Arthur smiled at him and clasped his shoulder. “Good, boy.”
The nightfalcon raced through the mid-afternoon sunlight.
Anton mused to himself. They were doing everything they could to maximize their chance of escaping but would it be enough. His gaze drifted with thoughtful speculation. Given his recent experiences, Crane and Armitage were devilishly difficult opponents. Against them, it was always best to assume the worst. For all their efforts they would be found, and this time Crane and Armitage would come for them.
He glanced across at the P-Case strapped tightly against the webbing on the cabin wall. They had the Panopticon, and there was no way that Crane would allow such a prize to be lost. There was only one question worth asking.
What would they do when Crane and Armitage caught up with them?
* * *
The nightfalcon fled across the valley floor.
Li watched the red and gold glow of exploding lava playing against funereal clouds of smoke hanging like a shroud over the valley. Barely taking in what could’ve inspired a vision of hell by Hieronymus Bosch, she was occupied with digesting the insights gained while connected to the raw power of the quantum processors of the Panopticon. As terrible as the loss of Francis was, the sudden grief had been overwhelmed by the experience of merged insight with the Panopticon’s quantum processors. The same way a fishing trawler could be overwhelmed by a rogue wave - wiped out, obliterated and lost to all awareness. A sinking hulk of grief remained beneath the surface of her soul. Still there, not forgotten, but able to be temporarily ignored.
Francis’ death left her with one core truth - war will cost you the ones you love.
The insights from merging with the quantum processors had come thick and fast. Crane’s citadel was a 108 floor skyscraper at number 350 on Fifth Avenue, Manhattan, New York. All the floors above the hundredth floor were dedicated to the operations of the Vampire Dominion and included Crane’s personal quarters.
And now, it was largely abandoned.
Crane had stripped all the remaining praetorians in North America from their posts and was converging on this valley. They would arrive in a little over an hour’s time at approximately ten minutes after four in the afternoon. Armitage was sharing a command shadowstar drone with him.
A second Panopticon was being built
at the East Coast Hub. A location so secret, even the Panopticon had been blocked from knowing it. Its construction was being overseen by the new world-wide head of Shadowstone, Louise Wesson. It was due to be completed in a month’s time. They had a window of a month where the vampires would not have pervasive surveillance technology. The window would then close and the vampires would be equipped with a new system of greater power than the one the team had just destroyed. All the danger they had just gone through, all the lives they’d taken, and the death of Francis would buy them at most a month of advantage.
The mission was a strategic disaster.
Li turned away from the smoke and flames, and looked through the cabin to the front of the helicopter. Slayne was joining Dwayne Washington in the cockpit. Where was he leading them to now? What were his plans for the Panopticon locked away in the P-Case? How did he expect to escape the imminent wrath of Crane and the might of the Vampire Dominion?
She glanced around the cabin. The team members were a mess. Chiara was … Chiara Morte, daughter of the Red Ghost. Li blinked. Her heart sank. There really was a spy within the Mirovar force team, and she was staring at Francis’ body with her face filled with grim purpose.
Li kept her silence. There was nothing to gain from telling the truth at this time. Peter and Chiara were both wounded, but could still serve. Jay was in good shape, coming through the battle mostly unscathed, as had Anton - a dark future opened up before her - no, not Anton. Anton had awakened something within himself that could threaten the team and everything beyond. What if he failed to master his new berserker powers? What if he was captured and turned by Armitage? And, Armitage had an unhealthy interest in Anton; that was clear from the evidence in the Panopticon. She could do it. She could turn him into a vampire to further her own ends. Anton Slayne could become an unstoppable force for evil in the world.
As for Slayne? He was hiding something; something beyond imagining.
The Crane War Page 26
