by S T Branton
Chapter Six
I lay sandwiched between two blankets, staring up at the clear, dark-blue night sky. Every time I moved, the leaves under my back made a sound like a crackling fire, but it didn’t matter—I couldn’t sleep anyway. My breath puffed out like smoke with every exhale. The tip of my nose was numb from the cold. A tent would’ve provided at least a little insulation, except that whenever I looked at one, I thought of Everett’s standing open and empty.
“Dammit,” I muttered, peeled back the top blanket, and sat up. “I have got to get a grip.” I sat there for a few minutes and hugged myself to coax the warmth back into my core. After a few minutes. I shoved the cover off my feet and got up.
My joints creaked in the silence. A shiver ran through my body. We were nowhere near the official onset of winter, but it sure as hell felt like snow was just around the corner.
“I hope Maya gets back soon.” The thought of her wandering the forests and fields alone in these temperatures was kind of depressing until I remembered that she had a fur coat. I chuckled. “She’s probably doing better than any of us right now.”
The air was cold even in my lungs, filling the space in my chest. I stepped away from my improvised bed and toward the edge of the camp clearing. Maybe a good old-fashioned patrol would tire me out and help me get my head on straight. I felt a little antsy, even a little haunted. Nothing that couldn’t be fixed by a little midnight jaunt. Patting my hip to make sure the Gladius Solis rested safely in its sheath, I let my feet carry me into the trees. As long as I had my sword, I was good to go toe to toe with anything that might come out of the deepest shadows.
Including whatever had killed Everett. Especially whatever had killed him.
But the woods along the Delaware Water Gap were all but deserted. The only sounds came from my own footsteps shuffling through the groundcover and the constantly rushing river beyond the forest. Thin slants of moonlight pierced down through the patchy canopy. It was peaceful out there and beautiful, if a little eerie. The taut spring in the back of my mind began to unwind.
I looped around the far perimeter and started the trek back toward the vague silhouette of the central teepee. Someone stood out in front of it, and as I drew closer, my heart jumped into my throat. I had the sword hilt in hand, ready to come alive, by the time I realized it was Brax, clad in his trademark coat and glasses, standing guard.
He nodded my way when I came within earshot. “Hey.” Noting the sword, a smile hovered over his lips. “Did I scare you?”
“Not any more than usual,” I shot back. Lame but still better than saying yes. “Do you ever sleep or what?”
The demon chuckled grimly. “I did a lot of sleeping in Asphodel,” he said. “Best thing to do if you can find a safe enough place. Nothing kills time faster than unconsciousness. I guess I used it all up.”
“I don’t think that’s how it works, but I’ll take your word for it.” I kicked a clear space in the dry leaves with my foot. “Mind if I hang out for a while? Sandman stood me up tonight.”
Brax shrugged. “Be my guest.” He said nothing while I sat, but I could almost feel him take notice as I slipped the medallion chain over my head and slid it into a pocket of my coat. The metal was freezing on my skin, and I suspected Marcus would only have snarky things to say about this chance meeting anyway. He might be annoyed once I put him back on, but whatever. He was cute when he pouted.
“You know he doesn’t have any clue about what really happened last time? Brax moved a little closer so he could lower his voice. “He wasn’t there. He has no right to dispense facts.”
“Marcus isn’t a liar, Brax,” I said. Now I was very glad I’d taken the chain off. No doubt, the centurion would be chewing my ear off about my companion’s flagrant disrespect otherwise.
“I didn’t say he was lying. Only that he knows a lot less than he thinks he does about this stuff.” The demon peered into the distance, his facial expression hidden behind the impenetrable façade of his shades. “I suppose I should say he only really saw one side—what he considers to be the good side. I always found it amazing how guys like him could work themselves into such a righteous fury. There was nothing righteous about it.” His face darkened. “Those guys were cowards, in the end. They thought they understood and that they were unquestionably in the right. History would bear out the justice of their actions. But the truth of it is, every fucking one of them was a coward or traitor. And we died in droves because of the choices they made.”
I locked my arms around my knees and tried not to seem overly interested for fear it would stop him from talking. I’d never heard him so voluble, and certainly not about his past. Learning anything about what Brax knew was usually like pulling teeth.
“I won’t judge you if you tell me more,” I said. “I promise.”
“Yes, you will.” He sighed. “It’s in your nature, but I’ll tell you anyway. Maybe you’ll learn something. Long story short, most of the humans who were here in the old days refused to join us when we mounted our rebellion against the gods. The Marked began as slaves, you see, specifically crafted to serve the gods’ every whim. We were made to be compliant, controllable. We were, for a time.
“But the injustice was too much to sweep under the rug forever. We were treated worse than dirt by most of those entitled jackasses, and as far as I’m concerned, the vast majority turned a blind eye. It was abundantly clear that our lives weren’t worth half as much as the dirt beneath our feet. Resentment festered in the hearts of my people and concentrated on those who caused us so much suffering and those who overlooked it. When the idea of rebellion first made its way through our ranks, we had some hope that the humans might help us out. The gods were a shared enemy between us, after all.
“We were wrong. Many humans, as I’ve said, removed themselves entirely, too weak or too frightened to stand against their oppressors. The ones who chose to fight threw their lots in with the gods instead. They assumed that since we were nothing but a slave race, a pet project, our inherent weakness gave us no chance. But they forgot that the gods wanted nothing if it wasn’t the best. We were strong, and we were many.” He trailed off. “That’s what we thought, anyway. In the end, the gods were mightier. They called it proof of their mastery over us as they threw us from their realm.”
I rested my chin on my arms. “The humans were shitty. They were wrong. You lost without their help.”
He shook his head. “The humans weren’t merely wrong. It’s impossible to say now if an allegiance would have helped. I may never know anything for sure except that they didn’t bother to try. They have proven themselves irredeemable, unworthy of my trust.”
I arched my eyebrow, wondering if he fully grasped the irony of unloading this whole thing onto a human. “Every one of them?”
“You could work your way onto an extremely short list,” he said curtly. “Don’t quote me on it, and don’t push your luck. I’m here because of what’s at stake—my freedom, this world, and possibly others beyond it. The gods must not be allowed to run rampant, seizing power as they want it. Unfortunately, it’s not up to me to put an end to things for good. I’m not the one who received the call.” His gaze flicked to the sword at my belt. “That honor belongs to you.”
“It is an honor, and I’ll do it as much justice as I can.” I sat up and looked him in the eye. “I’m sorry about what happened to your people, Brax, but they did it to mine, too. In the millions, back then and now. You were in the city. You saw it.”
“True. I also saw legions of humans willingly at Rocca’s beck and call. I saw them cutting us down at the behest of the gods, their eyes as hungry as beasts. Throughout their long, bloody history, humans have never needed much of an excuse to slaughter each other.” He turned to face me. “That’s why I’ll pass this warning along now before it’s too late. Without a strong leader, this group will collapse into itself like a dying star, and for once, the gods won’t be responsible.”
“Don’t say that.�
�� I frowned. “We’ve made it this far. I know things are rough right now, but we’ll find a way through like always.”
“It’s only a matter of time before the tension reaches the breaking point,” said Brax. “These are desperate souls struggling to survive. Don’t be surprised if they turn on each other. Times like these bring out the worst.”
His point was a little too salient, and it irked me. I stood from of the leaves and brushed them off my pants. “Okay, listen—”
“Get out here! We’re under attack!” The shout cut off my retort, but it also instantly redirected my irritation. I snapped a glance in the direction of the yell on the opposite end of the clearing. Brax pulled the hammer off his back.
“This isn’t over,” I told him as we both broke into a dead sprint toward the sound. “One thing at a time. We’ll finish this conversation later.”
The demon wasn’t listening. He stared straight ahead and focused on the destination, primed and ready for action.
I reached into my coat pocket and tossed the medallion around my neck once more. “Hey, Marcus. Looks like it’s showtime again.”
Chapter Seven
Hail, Victoria. Early to conflict this morn, I see. I have always been of the opinion that a good stiff battle makes for excellent calisthenics.
“Thanks for the fitness tip, Jane Fonda. Maybe they’ll put some music on for us next time.” I ran hot on Brax’s heels on the way through the camp, dodging through a maze of sleeping refugees. Some of them woke and stared after us, bleary-eyed.
“Hey, what the fuck? I think she just jumped over me—”
“Sorry,” I threw over my shoulder. “Go back to sleep. Everything’s fine.”
There is nothing quite like the calming magic of a white lie. Though perhaps it would work better if told while you were not hurtling toward the source of a distress call.
He was only ribbing me, but I didn’t have time to be amused. The tree line approached rapidly and with it, another battle. I also didn’t have time to think of a witty reply. Brax’s hammer cut a searing orange arc between two trunks, offering me my first glimpse of what we were defending against. It looked like more of the same—a large handful of assorted Forgotten surged out of the silent forest, bearing weapons and war cries.
Spatters of muzzle flashes shattered the darkness, and I looked for the customary roving band of satyrs. Instead, I found soldier Dan and a small contingent of his men peppering the enemy with volleys of brutally accurate fire. Several of the advancing figures spun backward or simply dropped in place, and those who made it as far as hand-to-hand clashes were met with knives, batons, and even large branches seized from the forest floor.
Those guys and girls knew how to party.
I leaned harder into my run, leapt up over a log, and swung the Gladius Solis from overhead on a charging vampire cop. He gasped, his corporeal form immediately dissolving into a flurry of ash that sifted down through the foliage. The gunfire faltered momentarily into a clatter of expert reloads. Up ahead, I picked out the distinctive, hulking shape of a lone werewolf looming over the small horde. Its jaws were open, dripping thick, silvery threads of saliva. Unlike Maya, there was no hint of intelligence or control in its eyes—only pure, unadulterated rage. If allowed to reach the lines, it might well break through with sheer brute force.
“I’m going in,” I yelled to no one in particular. My boots gouged the soil where they landed, kicking up clods of dirt and refuse. The Gladius Solis perched ready and waiting in my hand, the blade alight and humming with potential. Pretending to be a runner in the world’s most deadly game of football, I wove around the other monsters as they tried to latch on. All my focused power had to be saved for my main target if I wanted to pull off the idea coalescing in my head. Ever since I got the sword to become a shield, I had a feeling it could be other things, too. It was finally time to put that theory to the test.
Twenty feet out from the wolf, I cocked my arm back and pitched the weapon like a spear, straight toward the creature’s slobbering, open mouth. It flew up and up, followed by my eyes and concentration. “Come on, come on,” I muttered under my breath, pushing hard with my mind. A tendril of light materialized in the sword’s wake. “Yes!” It thickened into a rope, which twined its way around the wolf’s head and shoulders. “Damn, this thing is awesome.” The blade arced over the mangy muzzle like a grappling hook, binding the snout. “Did you see that perfect throw?” I asked Marcus, unable to contain my pride. “That shit was Major League!”
The Gladius Solis is only as great as its wielder, Victoria. I must say your innovations continue to impress me.
“Necessity is the mother of invention,” I quipped. “Or, you know, badassery.”
As I said this, I dropped to the ground in a perfect home-plate slide, zipping neatly between the werewolf’s wide stance. One paw crashed down to the right of my head, briefly obscuring my vision in a haze of dust and leafy debris. Hooking one arm around the creature’s ankle, I leveraged my momentum against its balance, hopped to my feet, and darted out of its shadow the instant before the massive lycanthrope fell in a heap on the ground.
Yellow eyes flashed with hatred. Gangly limbs whipped at me, propelled by bone-breaking force. The Gladius Solis returned back to my hand. It trailed the golden rope, which I used to pull the wolf’s gnashing mouth shut. Blood ran in a trickle from where the tongue was ensnared in a tangle of fangs.
“How’s that for finesse?” I said to Marcus. My eyes stayed locked on the Were lying trapped but not helpless before me. Its arms and legs gathered gradually into a hunch I recognized as the preamble to a lunging attack. The back legs pushed upward, and the rope snapped taut. I suddenly had a werewolf on a godly golden leash. My sword poised, I fell onto my back foot, gauging the arc of the wolf’s jump. At the zenith of its leap, I let my blade fly one more time into the heart of the beast.
An acrid whiff of singed hair assaulted my nose. Wisps of dark smoke curled from the point where the hilt was planted. The thick, mangy hide smoldered in a widening radius around the wound. At first, there was no blood. Time seemed to stutter a little. The werewolf hung frozen for a fraction of a second, then it collapsed in a tangle of paws and teeth and wide, staring eyes. The rope went slack and disappeared.
The sword came out cleanly, as always. I turned to face the remainder of the horde when I noticed the dead wolf’s shape begin to shift. It shrank from a hulking, towering monster to a twisted young woman, her frame scarcely more than skin stretched over bone. Taking a deep, sharp breath, I looked away. The girl was not like Maya, who was healthy and could take care of herself.
Dan and his men had pushed forward, effectively sandwiching the rest of the attackers into a thin strip of forest. The barrage of bullets continued, some zinging around me as I slashed and burned my way through the now-meager field of enemies. These small fries were no match for any of us except in number, and even then, we were quick enough to stay in control. I downed a couple with two well-placed strikes to the head and pirouetted to decapitate a third. To my surprise, the scene that met my eye was one of Brax on the receiving end of a surprise attack while he was already engaged in an enthusiastic grapple. The second creature jumped on his back, cackling gleefully. The demon pitched face-first into the ground.
“Oh, shit!” I shoved the most recent kill out of my way. My strides were more like bounds over the moderate distance between us.
“Get the hell out of here, you little asswipe!” Dan exploded into my view from the side and swooped down on the fiend on our friend’s back. He jabbed the blade of a serious machete through its neck. Brax looked up in the middle of crushing his first opponent’s trachea, and the two locked eyes. The soldier nodded solemnly, which his teammate returned. They were almost ritualistic in their seriousness.
Meanwhile, I was still hauling ass to get over there. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything, boys,” I said with a smirk and a wink. “You need a minute?”
The man cleared hi
s throat and turned his back on the demon. By the time I reached his side, Brax was standing and looking pointedly nowhere near Dan.
“Nice job with the dog,” the soldier said to me. “You really made short work of that thing.”
“I’ve had some experience.” I looked around, ready to jump back into the fray, and found that the infantry support team was finishing the stragglers off. “Looks like you guys have too.”
“You could call it a crash course,” he answered, grinning. “All my people are great people. The kind you can rely on. Remember that if you ever need a hand.”
I smiled in response. “Sure will. It’s real nice to have some meaningful backup.”
Dan glanced at Brax. “Speaking of reliable, I thought you could use something a little more effective, brother.”
The word brother made the demon bristle. He looked down at the bodies at his feet, up at Dan, and sidelong at his hammer. He patted the weapon’s head, which was still smoky from recently-extinguished flames. “Think so? This seems to be working just fine.”
Neither said another word after that, but I could’ve cut the atmosphere with the soldier’s machete. I took it as my cue to head back toward the place where I’d left my blankets. Whatever was going on between them, I did not want to get caught in the middle.
I like this Dan, Marcus announced, unprompted. I think we would be great compatriots.
I snorted. “You would say that.”
Chapter Eight
The next time I opened my eyes, watery sunlight made its way through the holes in the treetops, spilling thinly over the camp in the woods. The morning air was heavy and cold, and drops of dew stood out as big as thumbtacks on the ground. Both my blankets had been soaked through, and I shivered intensely as I rolled them up. It was obvious that our tenure there had expired.
