Metal Angels - Part One: (A Supernatural Thriller Serial)

by D K Girl

  ‘How long have I been out?’ Blake sank back onto the pillow, staring up at the beige ceiling of the med ward. She did not recall being moved from her apartment. She recalled nothing at all from the moment the black fog had descended on her to the present. Now here she was, in a place she despised more than any other.

  ‘About two hours.’ Cym dropped his gaze to the floor. He ran a slender fingertip against his lips. ‘Some developments have occurred in that time.’

  ‘What is it, Cym? Have they found Kira?’ Now Blake did rise, waving back the Syranian when he tried to assist her. Cym had never mastered the marble-hard expressions the others were so adept at. His thoughts were not so easily hidden. ‘Tell me.’

  But he did not need to.

  The double doors to the eight-bed medical ward slid open, and a body on a gurney was wheeled in by two scrub-clad men with masks covering their mouths. Monitoring equipment clung to the end of the gurney, a brunette nurse frowning at it as she assisted the men. Blake recognised her as one who had tended Kira during her time here, but the woman’s name escaped her. The group passed by Blake and Cym, but no one so much as glanced their way. Blake grasped Cym’s arm, using the leverage to dangle her legs over the side of the bed.

  ‘Oh shit,’ she whispered.

  Perry lay on the gurney. She stared at the disconcerting colour of the man’s skin. His olive hue had adopted a greenish tinge at his cheeks, with a deeper brown around his closed eyes. The sight did little to steady the low-level trembling working through her limbs. Blake eased herself off the bed, bare feet meeting the coolness of the tiled floor. Black tiles. An odd choice for a medical ward, she’d always thought. But then the Syranians, for whom it was designed, were hardly average patients.

  ‘Take it slowly, Blake.’ Cym reached for her, but she cautioned him back with a raised, and visibly shaking, hand.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she hissed. She glanced back at the doors. Closed again. No sign of Rossiter. This had most definitely not been the plan, bringing Perry here, but she decided against asking about the bodyguard. Play dumb until she knew more. Perry was alive. Relief and panic mingled within her. That he was breathing was positive, for obvious reasons, but he was also a direct link to Kira – and the airport he’d taken her to.

  The men wheeled the gurney into the first compartment on the far side of the room, and on the nurse’s count relocated him onto the waiting bed.

  ‘What happened to him, Cym?’ Blake rubbed at the puncture marks in the crook of her elbow. The monotonous beep of the monitoring equipment sent chills crawling across the back of Blake’s neck. The sound and the room were all-too familiar. When she’d walked out of here three years ago, after Kira had been transferred out of intensive care and up to the ground-level medical facility for recovery, Blake had made it a personal mission never to attend this place again.

  Cym’s generous lips pressed into a tight line. ‘I have not been privy to any information regarding the human.’

  ‘Well, I would like some information.’ Blake spotted her boots—the worn purple steel caps Kira had given her a few Christmases ago—beneath the bed and leaned down to collect them. ‘He looks as if he should be in the hospital. Who gave the order for him to be brought here anyway?’

  ‘That was my directive, Technician. One that does not need to be justified to one such as yourself.’

  Blake bolted upright, head spinning with the sudden movement. She pressed a hand into the mattress to steady herself. ‘Captain Nex?’ Surprise, and not a little dismay, pitched her words.

  The captain strode into her glass-walled compartment in his usual determined manner, always appearing to be in a rush to get to his next destination, even if that destination was only paces away. Nex was shorter than several of the Syranians but still a formidable height, and his features were far less soft and feminine than the others. The air of ferocity he carried had taken Blake some time to adjust to. She prided herself on never taking a step back when the captain invaded her personal space.

  As he did now.

  ‘Walk with me, Technician. Allow me to show you the result of your stupidity.’ The captain’s condescension arched his full eyebrows.

  Swallowing against a paper-dry mouth, Blake met his gaze. ‘I don’t understand what you are referring to, Captain.’

  Nex tilted his head, and his heavy silver braids shifted against the plating of his black chest armour. ‘Is that so? Come.’ He turned his back on her and quick-stepped his way across the black tiles to Perry’s compartment. Blake followed, as instructed. Nari and Reuben stood guard at the main entrance to the room, a not-so-subtle indication that Blake was both patient and prisoner.

  The nurse tending Perry stepped back as the captain approached.

  ‘Where is Azrael, Technician?’ The captain moved alongside the bed. ‘Where has the Lesser taken him?’

  ‘The Lesser?’ Blake said.

  ‘Your sister,’ he hissed, moving to stand at Perry’s head and bending forward to place his face disconcertingly close to Perry’s own. ‘Where has Kira taken the gallu?’

  The nurse muttered something and hurried out of the room.

  ‘You appear to overestimate the closeness between Kira and I, Captain. I spend most of my time having no idea where my sister is. This is no exception.’

  ‘The fact that your personal guard was located trying to extricate this man suggests this is most certainly the exception.’

  The captain touched his lips to Perry’s forehead and breathed in so deeply the intake was audible from where Blake stood at the foot of the bed. Nex straightened, pushing up the sleeve on his right arm, revealing the mea stone dug into the flesh. He placed his fingertips in a circle on Perry’s forehead, thumb and little finger pressing into his temples. The remaining three digits sank into his dark curly hair. The captain released his breath. The soft sound seemed to go on forever. Blake searched for Cym, but the Syranian had removed himself from the ward. Nari and Reuben stood still as statues at the entrance.

  ‘It is as I suspected.’ Nex released his grip, dark marks on Perry’s skin where his fingers had pressed. ‘You would do well to tell me now where the Lesser has taken the gallu. Other methods we can use to pry the truth from you are far less pleasant than this conversation.’

  ‘I told you, I don’t know.’ Blake paused. ‘Just as we both did not know the last time she decided to remove someone from the Facility. What makes you so certain Kira was involved at all?’

  The captain turned, head sweeping in a serpentine flourish to find her. Reminding him of Eron’s disappearance was a sure-fire way to rile the Syranian. And right now, anything to distract him while Blake’s tired mind tried to come up with a plan was welcome.

  ‘Footage was obtained of Kira entering the gallu’s containment area, just prior to the recording being interfered with.’

  Blake balled her fists, pressing her ever-trembling hands against her thighs. Weylen’s editing abilities were impressive, but also a stark reminder of how deeply Blake had involved her sister in the deception. ‘I’ll admit, I was made aware of Azrael’s removal before advising either yourself or Tamas of the case. Weylen was making her usual checks and discovered the . . . issue. I chose to try to rectify the problem myself. You both were preoccupied with the Final Meld, and I didn’t want to disturb your preparations.’ The Meldings were teleportation events of some kind, fuelled by the Tier Waters’ nuclear-energy-like properties. Certainly not divine occurrences, but the amount of time the Syranians and Tamas spent worshipping their various gods before the events had been useful. ‘I sent Rossiter to the Wheel and Barrow; it seemed a logical first choice when I could not locate Kira on Facility grounds. As you know full well, that is where Kira took Eron several times. I had hoped I would find her there again, and Azrael would be returned before any alarm need be raised.’

  Perhaps Cym’s remedy had actually worsened the effects of the Waters in her veins, because risking the ire of the captain once was foolish. To do it
a second time, so blatantly, was insanity. Blake clenched her jaw, the overused muscles there protesting. The captain seemed intent on boring a hole in her skull with his stare, but she’d worked under that gaze long enough to remain visibly unfazed.

  ‘A fine story, Technician. Would not another logical choice have been to locate the vehicle? Or were you hoping I would waste my time and energies doing so?’

  ‘I wasn’t aware you knew of the disappearance, but I would have thought Eron would advise you on Kira’s adeptness at rerouting the Facility vehicles to suit herself.’

  Blake’s body rocked, a very slight to and fro, and she hoped the captain’s determination to peer beneath her skull distracted him from her instability. He sniffed, the tip of his nose jabbing the air.

  ‘Tell me, what instruction had you given Rossiter regarding the human? What did you intend to do with a human who had suffered a possession by a supermundane? Was your guard taking him to a doctor?’

  The smile that curled his lips turned Blake’s stomach, but she gave him a disinterested shrug. ‘I don’t understand what you’re talking about. Supermundane?’

  ‘Oh, I believe you know exactly what I’m talking about. You have seen too much evidence of higher beings to deny any longer. The Tier feeds this world once again.This is no longer a godless planet, and the preternatural begin to rise from their long slumber. Fed by the power of the Waters I delivered for our Lord Lahar.’

  Blake bit at her lip, hoping her expression didn’t betray her desire to slap the smug look from the captain’s face. ‘I don’t know what any of that has to do with Perry. What I saw was a sick man. An epileptic fit perhaps. Cardiac arrest…human shortcomings.’

  Because if it were not, then what had happened to him could happen to Kira.

  ‘An utukku possessed this man. The residual indicators are clear, but such a creature has as little time for humans as I do.’ Blake had no clue what an utukku was, nor did Nex offer an explanation. Which was fine, so far as she was concerned. Just remaining upright was taking the bulk of her concentration. Nex continued, ‘That man was targeted for a reason – the utukku scented the gallu upon him, and hunted through the valleys of the human’s mind in search of Azrael. Perry’s mind is ruptured beyond repair.’ Captain Nex nodded towards the door. The sound of Nari and Reuben’s footfalls – heavy boots reverberating off the concrete floor – reached Blake, but she did not turn around. ‘He is dead, you understand? His heart beats at the will of a machine. Even if mere instinct led you to him, your decision to conceal him from us suggests to me you are far from oblivious to your sister’s actions. That you know full well where the gallu can be located, and perhaps this man’s discovery threatened that. Where have they gone, girl?’

  The footsteps ceased, right behind her, but still Blake did not turn around. It was not just her hands shaking now – the trembling went right to the core. And along with it, a sickening, despicable relief that the truth could never be wrung from Perry.

  ‘I do not know.’ The words she was least fond of, spoken in a place she despised. ‘But I would like to know, as much as you would. Allow me to continue searching for her.’

  ‘You are intelligent, but you are not clever, and you will not win this game, whatever it is you seek to play. Not here amongst the gods and the godly. The reek of fear is strong on you. And rightly so. You’ve taken something the goddess covets. A terrible move, Technician. You’ll be involved in the search, that much is certain. I doubt it will be to your liking, though.’ Captain Nex’s amusement formed a contorted smile, laced with disdain. He flicked his fingers towards her, as though shooing away a fly. In his mind, he likely was. Reuben took Blake’s elbow.

  ‘Let’s go, Blake. Tamas is waiting for you.’

  Led out of the ward by Tamas’s bodyguards, Blake searched once more for Cym. But found only the frightened face of the nurse who had attended Perry.

  Reuben was not gentle as he shoved Blake into Tamas’s room but she made certain not to give any indication of the discomfort. The guards left them alone. If ever there was someone who looked as drained as Blake felt, it was Tamas. His olive skin was stormy and bruised beneath his eyes. He sat on the edge of his unmade bed. Once upon a very long time ago, they’d shared that bed, both regretting the encounter while the sheets were still damp. Tamas’s taste for men had been fortified, and Blake had learned without doubt she shared none of Kira’s obsession with bodily contact. The messy, revealing thing that it was. There’d been no one before, no one since. And no desire to change the status quo.

  Inexplicably though, the relationship with Tamas had deepened. The silences they shared had lengthened. And when conversation did occur, he never remonstrated her when she sank into her thoughts, oblivious to the company she shared. They were perfect at being utterly disconnected, together.

  But there was no oblivion now. No silence. Tamas stared at the flat-screen TV on the wall opposite his bed.

  ‘You’ve done a wonderful job, Blake,’ he said softly. ‘I knew you would. I wish my mother could see this. I’d make her eat each and every patronising word she spat at me when I chose you. She was an overbearing bitch. I do not miss her, but I’d endure a moment in her company if it meant she could witness this.’

  The footage was of level eleven and the four carapaces Blake had led a team in creating. They dangled from four miniature cranes assembled around the Tier. These four had none of the sculpted beauty of Azrael. An odd compulsion had seen Blake remove all softness from their design and replace it with adamantine detail, fashioning the bodies on the thick set of a conditioned soldier and the blocky presence of a rugby player. Two males, two females. Intimidating, perhaps even frightening. She’d etched her own natural warning into their construction, like the blue rings on a deadly octopus, or the red stripe on the back of a spider.

  Be warned. Stay away.

  Blake bit the inside of her cheek, reopening a barely healed wound there. She may not adhere to the idea that the gods toyed with the world, but there was no denying the power of the technologies involved, and her own obsession with learning their secrets. Blake owed the Syranian’s Kira’s life, but she had never been totally blind to the dangers. The designs of the four hunters were her red flags to the world.

  Tamas patted the mattress. ‘Come, sit with me, Blake.’

  ‘Tamas, I do not know where Kira has taken Azrael. I honestly do not.’ Blake sat down, the give of the mattress rocking her against Tamas. He laid his hand on her thigh, a physicality he’d not displayed since their ill-fated lying together, and his touch did now what it had not done then. Sent heat spreading through her body.

  ‘Blake, we have known each other a very long time. Well before we became so much more than we’d ever been. Do you remember that we used to share tinned beans in university? You always took the larger portion, but I didn’t care. I truly didn’t.’ The reeds in the garden beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows swayed back and forth beneath a clear morning sky. Insects darted at the still surface of the water. ‘Because you were my friend. A companion who had as many idiosyncrasies, and as few friends, as I did. And it is that history that enables me to offer you one last chance. Tell me where they have gone.’ His fingers dug into her thigh, nails pushing at the thin material of her black pants.

  In the haze of fatigue, and duress, and whatever else swirled through her system, Blake wavered. The captain had told her she would not win this game. Highly likely, considering she wasn’t sure what game she was playing. Arrogance had driven her to begin with. They had wanted to take Azrael from her, to destroy her creation when they were done with it. Like a disposable toy. But that motivation had shifted as she’d watched Perry die. She’d recalled a particular book in her possession. One her father had presented her with, just a year before the accident. A copy of the Bhagavad Gita, the very same text Oppenheimer had quoted after the dropping of the atomic bomb. ‘I am become death, destroyer of worlds.’

  All because she’d told him of a new deve
lopment in drone tech that the Facility was pioneering. Her father had had no knowledge of the aliens, no inkling of the superiority of their technology. No clue of what she would become involved in. A simple drone had pressed him to declare his own daughter in danger of becoming a monster. Blake had despised him for it. Abhorred his lack of vision. Didn’t speak to him for weeks. The book had been propping up her lopsided fridge ever since.

  Tamas drew in closer, his breath warm against Blake’s skin. ‘One chance. Or I will make you hurt the same way I was made to hurt when the goddess learned Azrael was gone.’

  What would her father think now? She had to keep playing. No matter the game.

  Blake pressed her mouth up close to Tamas’s ear. ‘I don’t know where they are.’

  Tamas slammed his hand on the comms unit beside the bed. ‘You can come in.’ He stood up, pacing away to the far side of the room and standing with his back to her, eyes fixed on the garden his mother had built.

  The entrance slid open and Cym entered. A brief moment of relief faded when he refused to meet her gaze. He did not look at her as he rolled up her sleeve and his firm grip left her no option but to hold still as he swabbed her arm.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Let it be done, Blake.’ Tamas kept his back to her. ‘You’ll tell us what we need to know.’

  Cym removed a needle from a satchel at his hip. He pushed the needle against her skin and before he broke the surface, leaned towards her and whispered, ‘Forgive me.’

  Blake wrenched against his grip, panic knotting her chest. She had pre-planned for this contingency. The use of a truth agent. Human wars were full of such chemical weapons, odds were high that the aliens used them too. But had she done enough to protect herself? An icy sensation raced up her arm, pushing goosebumps to the skin’s surface. That soon changed. Ice became fire, pincers of glowing embers reaching into her skull. Blake screamed, clawing at her ears. She fell to her knees, but Cym dragged her back to her feet, pinning her hands behind her back. Arching her back, slamming her head against his chest, Blake sought some, any, relief from the agony. The screams overflowed from her mouth, choking her. How had she ever supposed she could withstand this?