Firestorm

by William Stacey

  "Three against one," Wyn Renna said. "And the Tzitzime are not the only ones who know more spells. We elves are not helpless."

  Rowan shifted his weight, crossing his arms and leaning back as he considered the others. "Well ... three against one is the kind of odds I like. Only chumps fight fair."

  "There's more," said Angie. "There's a radio in that church. I saw the high-frequency antenna. Maybe we can call someone for help."

  Casey snorted. "Who'd come? Not the Commonwealth, not after we burned their helicopters. And last I heard, the Nortenos don't have no helicopters."

  "I doubt they'd be able to help us even if they did," said Tec, "not while they're facing an invading Aztalan army."

  "My mother," Wyn Renna said with conviction.

  They all stared at her. "What about your mother?" Rowan asked. "Elves don't use technology, not airplanes at any rate."

  "Don't presume," Wyn Renna said. "If I can contact my mother, I can get help."

  "How?" Rowan asked.

  Wyn Renna glanced at Tavi before answering. "There's a frequency I can use that's always monitored in her palace on Coronado Island. It's how I used to pass information from the Brujas compound in Canyon City."

  Tavi glared at her, shaking her head. "You mean all those times you volunteered for the radio watch at night, all those times you said you couldn't sleep, you were really transmitting information to your mother, spying on us?"

  Wyn Renna didn't argue; it was all true. Wyn Renna had been an elven spy, and nothing was going to change that for Tavi—especially considering how Tavi had hero-worshipped the woman for years when she thought she was Constance Morgan. Angie understood Tavi's anger, but Wyn Renna and the elves weren't the enemy. Tavi was going to have to accept that.

  "Okay," said Rowan thoughtfully. "That kind of changes things." He looked about at the others, waiting until they were all paying attention. "We have a choice to make, people. My responsibility is to my family, not those civilians. I don't like hearing about executions and sacrifices any more than any of you, but we're a long way from friends. Right now, the enemy doesn't know where we are, or at least not exactly where we are. We hit that church and they will."

  "That's not going to last," Erin said. "And you know it. They're already hunting us, and besides, no one goes a thousand kilometers without getting seen by the locals, not even us."

  "She's right," Jay said. "It's a wonder we've hidden as long as we have."

  "Agreed," said Rowan. "But if we light up that church, it'll be like kicking a hornet's nest."

  "Fuck it," said Casey. "Kick away."

  "Wait," Rowan said tersely, glaring at Casey. "You'll get your vote."

  Casey looked down at his feet as if he had just been scolded. Casey was much larger than Rowan but always deferred to the older man. Hell, Angie was pretty sure that Rowan frightened Casey.

  "So we are voting?" Erin asked, watching Rowan with a look of incredulity in her eyes. "What happened to ‘this is not a democracy, sis’?" She lowered her voice in a gruff imitation of Rowan.

  "This isn't about the family. And I don’t sound like that." Rowan sighed and looked to the others. "This needs to be a group decision, but it has to be unanimous. It's all of us or none of us. Now, I'm willing to give it a go, but if it goes bad, we'll be in the shit. So, what do you all want to do?"

  "I'm in," said Angie.

  "Me too," said Erin.

  Casey raised his hand. "Here's me voting to kick some Aztalan ass."

  "Agreed," said Tavi. "I have to get home. My people are dying, and I can't spend a month walking back."

  "My mother will help," Wyn Renna said. "Just get me to that radio."

  "I'm with her," the other elf said, looking at Wyn Renna with near reverence.

  "Quel surpris," said Jay sarcastically in what Angie recognized was French, having heard it before in one of the many movies on disc in the Home Guard’s Bunker. Jay earned a dirty look from the elven warrior who clearly understood the tone if not the words.

  Rowan turned his attention to Tec. "That leaves you, my friend."

  Angie watched him, knowing how badly he had taken the death of his dragon master. Is he up for this?

  "I've spent my life fighting those people," Tec said. "I'm willing to die fighting them."

  Rowan sighed, smoothing the ends of his mustache with his thumb and forefinger. "Okay, then. We attack."

  Chapter 4

  Just after four thirty a.m., Angie crouched behind a short stone wall next to a farmhouse in the mountain village that offered an unobstructed view of the church on the hill. Rowan and the others—his brothers, Tec, Tavi, and the two elves—knelt in a line alongside Angie. Erin had climbed atop a nearby barn with a scoped rifle. Angie wore her NVGs but saw nothing moving atop the hill. Angie hadn't seen as much as a cat, but with four werewolves and a were-jaguar in the village, the animals likely hid.

  She knew she would have.

  The assault force was armed with an assortment of weapons they had salvaged from the helicopter wreck: more of the silenced sub-guns, an assault rifle, and the scoped sniper rifle Erin used. Deldin Gar carried only a short sword and had refused a firearm, while Angie and Tavi both carried hexed swords. Wyn Renna had only a pistol, which put her at extreme risk against the Tzitzime mage and his hexed weapon. Angie had already decided she’d take on the mage personally. She had no idea what kind of a swordsman he was, but she had bested Nathan, the best fencer she knew, and was confident she could take care of herself.

  Nine people against an entire platoon in a fortified outpost seemed like terrible odds, but numbers weren’t always the most important factor. Each member of the Seagrave family had enhanced speed and strength. Rowan was an ex-SEAL, Casey was a brute, Erin was an expert shot, and even with only one good arm, Jay was frighteningly quick and strong. Both Tavi and Wyn Renna were trained combat mages, and Deldin Gar had proven his worth during the battle in the underground temple. Then there was Tec, the were-jaguar, who had been waging a one-man war against the Tzitzime for years. Unlike the Seagraves, who were slaves to the moon's cycles, Tec could shift into a monstrously powerful all-black were-jaguar whenever he wanted. She had seen him rip apart a dozen Tzitzime cultists. He didn’t like shifting because he always ran the risk of losing himself in the beast, but he would do it if the situation became dire.

  And then there was Angie herself.

  As a source mage, the only one of her kind, she was immeasurably more powerful than other mages. And she was bonded with the Shade King, a supernatural entity orders of magnitude above other shades. She didn’t understand exactly how her magic worked—nor did it always work the way she wanted it to—but when it did, she was a powerhouse. Like crazy strong.

  The Aztalans had no idea what was about to hit them.

  She saw no lights atop the hill. If the enemy was disciplined, they’d all be awake before first light, but Rowan had decided to hit them while they were still in their blankets. Rowan insisted the best fights were always one-sided and over before the enemy realized they had begun.

  Rowan, his face smeared with paint, touched Angie's shoulder. She gave him a curt nod, closed her eyes, and cast out her life-sense magic. The church flared with life forms, each a horse or person. The soldiers, at least she guessed they were the soldiers, lay about the church's courtyard. The prisoners likely slept as well, but they were all huddled together in a mass in a corner next to the stable. Now there were three sentries: the one in the bell tower and two more moving about the interior. She opened her eyes and held up three fingers to Rowan, who nodded. He looked up to Erin atop the nearby barn roof and held three fingers for her.

  Erin, her wolf eyes flashing green, fiddled with the scope on her rifle. Then, sitting on her bum atop the slope of the roof, her legs bent before her, and her elbows resting on the insides of her knees, she placed the rifle tight into her shoulder and took aim. Even from atop the roof, Erin would only be able to see the sentry in the bell tower, but if she
didn't kill him with the first shot, he'd raise the alarm. Then they'd have to assault a roused outpost.

  Angie closed her eyes once more and cast out her life-sense, focusing on the sentry in the bell tower. The wait couldn't have been longer than a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity, and then, almost coming as a surprise, Erin fired. Her rifle was equipped with a long sound suppressor, but the shot was still surprisingly loud, and a pair of bats bolted from the open doorway of the barn. The life force of the sentry in the tower blinked out of existence.

  Angie held her breath as she scanned the other two sentries. Both men had frozen in place, clearly having heard the suppressed shot. Sound traveled at night, and there was little chance the men could have mistaken it for anything other than a rifleshot. But Angie and the others had heard hunters for days now, especially at night. In a small mountain village like this, hunting was part of life, and many animals were nocturnal. She didn't realize she was holding her breath until the two sentries began moving again, once more patrolling the fort.

  So far, so good.

  She turned to Rowan. "Ten and three," she whispered, using clock numbers to let him know the relative positions of the last two sentries inside the church's courtyard.

  Without a word, Rowan rose smoothly and began running forward, his sub-gun ready for firing. Tec, Casey, and Jay were a heartbeat behind him, each man moving silently for the stone wall surrounding the church atop the hill. Erin climbed down from the barn, slung her sniper rifle, and readied her own sub-gun before rushing after her brothers. Angie looked to Tavi, who also wore NVGS, and saw the other woman was watching her, waiting for Angie's cue.

  Soon.

  As the others hit the hill, they picked up speed. All were barefoot, and Angie knew what would come next. Without even slowing, Rowan scaled the eight-foot-high stone wall, scrambling over it in seconds. His brothers and Tec were right behind him, with Erin only seconds later.

  And now the killing starts. A heavy weight settled in Angie’s stomach.

  She didn't like fighting and hated killing, but this was war. She closed her eyes and cast out her life-sense magic one last time. Five figures, shining like torches, slipped through the church's courtyard. Two of the five moved like sharks, going straight for the patrolling sentries, who didn’t realize death was coming for them. When the life force of both sentries winked out, Angie opened her eyes and rose into a crouch, her heart pounding.

  It was time.

  Holding her sub-gun tight in her shoulder, Angie motioned for the others to follow and set off at a trot toward the church. Tavi, Wyn Renna, and Deldin Gar raced along behind her. Deldin Gar had made it clear that no matter what, he would stay at Wyn Renna’s side. Angie ran up the path to the church, only slightly out of breath when she reached the top. The wrought iron gates were open. She pushed through just as the gunfire started.

  The large Mission-architecture church stood on her left, with the large open stable on the far side of the courtyard, built against the wall. An extended firepit sat in the center of the courtyard around which the soldiers had made their camp. The horses, all tightly tied together, screamed and thrashed as the assault force of six, spread out in a line with their backs to Angie, walked forward across the camp, firing their weapons in short, deadly bursts at the sleeping soldiers, focusing fire on anyone who stood up or reached for a weapon. Men in sleeping bags or under blankets cried out in surprise, pain, and fear, but their cries were drowned out by the shooting. Clothing hung on lines, but the panicked men tore the lines free in their desperate attempt to run away. A pair of terrified horses broke their ropes, adding to the confusion as they bolted about the cramped compound. At the far end of the courtyard, next to the stables, the women and children bunched together, their arms still bound behind their backs, screaming in terror. The camp was chaos and death, and the screams, gunfire, and stench of cordite, blood, and feces were an assault to Angie’s senses.

  She forced her attention from the slaughter and onto the church's warped wooden entrance, the door long since fallen away. She and the other women had their own task this night.

  Angie stepped through the doorway into what had once been the church’s nave but was now filled with crates of ammunition, bundles of weapons, and other supplies. The Aztalan military had gutted the church, using it for storage. The crumbling adobe walls were covered with graffiti. A large stray cat bolted from Angie, hissing and disappearing into the church. The air stank of sweat, mildew, and rat droppings. Clothing lay discarded on the floor or pushed up against the walls. Cobwebs hung from the corners and ceiling rafters. Pine cones, straw, and other debris crunched under her boots as she scanned the interior of the church, her sub-gun tight into her shoulder. She slipped past the equipment into the church's entrance, the chancel.

  Not three feet in front of Angie, a man wearing only underwear rose from where he must have been sleeping. He stared at her in confusion, his mouth open. "Qué es?" he asked, his voice laced with confusion.

  Angie pulled the trigger on her sub-gun, shattering his chest with a burst of subsonic ammunition. The man crumpled, and she stepped over his corpse, her eyes scanning for more targets. Just because she didn't like killing didn't mean she'd hesitate to do it. Angie was becoming a different person—one she wasn't entirely sure she liked.

  As she swept into the nave, two more men rose from crumpled bedding on her right. She spun and fired at the exact same moment that Tavi did, and both men dropped, riddled with bullets. One was moaning, but Wyn Renna calmly shot the wounded man in the head with her pistol while Deldin Gar used his short sword to stab the other corpse. Elves were nothing if not thorough.

  Another figure, a tall, gaunt man, dashed out from behind crates, charging at Angie so fast he became a blur. The man slammed into her—or rather, he slammed into the shield the Shade King had just created to protect her. Angie staggered back as an explosion of sparks flared out her NVGs.

  "Vampire!" Tavi yelled, opening fire with her sub-gun.

  As Angie's night-vision optics compensated for the sudden flare-out, she saw Tavi fire a long burst of subsonic ammunition into the man who had attacked her. No, not a man, she corrected herself. Tavi was right, he was a vampire. What the hell is a vampire doing here?

  The vampire was so pale he resembled a corpse. His fingernails, like those of all his kind, were long and sharp and could cut a person open from throat to crotch. Vampires were Fey, not true undead, but some of the legends surrounding them were true enough, particularly the blood-drinking and near-invulnerability parts.

  Tavi's bullets hammered into the vampire's torso, staggering him but doing no lasting damage. There were only two ways to kill a vampire: decapitation or a wooden stake through the heart.

  As Tavi's sub-gun clicked on empty, the vampire surged forward, his eyes glowing with hatred. He slashed at Tavi, but her shade protected her just as the Shade King had protected Angie, and the vampire's nails scored at the translucent red disk that had appeared in the air before Tavi. If the vampire realized it couldn't reach Tavi, it didn't stop trying. It slashed at her repeatedly, each time hitting a shield with a shower of sparks. But with each strike, the vampire forced Tavi back. Her legs hit an ammunition box, and she tumbled back.

  "No!" Angie yelled, trying to get the vampire to focus on her. It didn’t.

  A shade would protect its mage, but only if it had mana, and Tavi's shade had already blocked several attacks. She’d be running out of mana soon enough. Tavi could draw more ambient mana from the atmosphere, but until then, she’d be vulnerable.

  The vampire came at Tavi, but this time, a long crimson band of red energy whipped through the air, wrapping around the vampire's arms and pinning them to its torso. Wyn Renna held the other end of the magical band, her face contorted in effort as the vampire struggled to break free. Angie cast Shutter, magically transporting herself to the vampire's side, where she calmly placed the barrel of her sub-gun against his temple and pulled the trigger, holding it unti
l her bullets shattered the vampire's skull, and then kept shooting into the pulpy mass that had been its brain. Just before her weapon ran out of ammunition, the vampire's corpse turned to ash, leaving nothing behind but its clothing. Wyn Renna's spell dissipated.

  Does everyone know more spells than us? she wondered.

  Angie ejected her spent magazine and inserted another while Tavi stared at the ashes. "Focus!" Angie told Tavi harshly. "Clear the church."

  Just then, bright-red light washed out her optics as a flare ignited near the tower steps at the other end of the church. A bolt of magical red fire lanced through the air at Angie as the Tzitzime blood mage, his hand outstretched, stepped out of the stairwell where he had been hiding. Blood magic, she thought, her fear surging when she realized he was trying to burn her alive. Once again, the Shade King protected her with a shield.

  She didn't bother trying to shoot the mage; there was no point. She dropped the sub-gun and drew Nightfall, moving forward in a mid-guard and leading with the hexed side-sword’s point. The mage drew his own heavy saber and came at her. Their blades met and scraped together, throwing off sparks. He was much larger and stronger and not at all untrained. But by the time their blades had met three times, she understood she was a much superior fencer.

  She parried, twisting her wrist and deflecting his attack, and then flipped her wrist again to come over the edge of his heavy blade and cut his face open to the cheekbone. He cried out, staggering back and lowering his guard, and she ran him through the heart, twisting Nightfall savagely before drawing the blade free.

  The mage fell dead, his saber clattering to the stone floor of the church. It was only then that she noticed the gunfire had stopped.

  "Nicely done," Wyn Renna said. "Truly, you are the daughter of Chararah Succubus."

  "Adopted," said Angie, her breathing rushed, her heart pounding. She turned and stormed from the church, away from the men she had killed.