by K M Martinez
Who the hell is Daniels?
“I wish to keep it,” said Anton after a moment.
“You will take the stone to Daniels if you wish to have the girl.” The man turned toward the portal. “Leave this place, Anton. I want you as far away from here as you can get before these bodies are discovered. I have to get back before I’m missed.”
“And the girl? You said I could have her. When?”
But the man didn’t respond. He straddled the large Malum, and quick as a flea, the winged creature jumped through the gate. The gate closed silently behind them.
Anton stared at the space where the gate had been, his face aglow from the torchlight. He stood there a long while before turning around and walking to the opposite side of the clearing.
Mel followed him just outside the torchlight, but she must not have been quiet enough, for Anton spun around, unsheathing his sword and swinging the torch side to side in an attempt to see into the darkness. She took the opportunity to circle around him, and when he once more turned around to continue on his way, she ran right at him, jumped, and kicked him hard in the chest.
He fell back, the torch and sword falling from his hands. The torch guttered and went out, leaving them in darkness.
Anton had no chance against Mel now. She could see, and he could not. As she beat him bloody, he apparently assumed she was a Malum that had not made it back through the gate, as he screamed something about being Eighth Clan and having a stone, as if that would help.
But it wasn’t completely dark, and as his eyes adjusted, he saw that he was dealing with a person and not a demon. When he recognized Mel, he gave a start.
“You!”
Mel pulled her right hand back and threw a punch at Anton’s chin. His head snapped back, blood and spittle flying out of his already bloodied face. He scrambled away, stuffed Sapienti Reddy’s stone into his mouth, and swallowed.
“Too late!” he yelled.
Mel hit him on his head with her sword handle, knocking him silent and still.
After making sure he was unconscious, she rummaged through one of the dead’s packs looking for rope to tie him up with. She found the rope—and also found the GPS phones in a pile, shattered beyond use. Swearing, she slung the rope over her shoulder and dragged Anton to a tree with a wide trunk. She tied the rope around one of Anton’s hands using an intricate knot Tío Jorge had taught her, looped the rope around the tree and over a high, thick branch, and slung the other end around toward Anton’s unbound hand. She used the same knot on that hand, then cut off the excess rope.
As the sun peeked over the horizon, lighting the sky, she took a step back and looked at her handiwork. Anton lay unconscious, his arms outstretched in a wide V.
V for vulnerable.
She wondered what her next move should be. The camp was at least five days’ walk away, and Charlotte was in Inter Spatium Abyssus at the mercy of her captors.
She looked around at the dead, and a thought struck her: Cori!
She rushed through the clearing, looking for the Ferus descendant. She had been so focused on Charlotte that she’d completely forgot about the red-headed woman. She studied every face, but none were Cori. She even found Jack Teller, gored to death, but there was no sign of the redhead. How could that be? Had she escaped? Mel hoped so, but it was just as likely she was dead somewhere in the woods. It hurt Mel to think of it, but it was possible. Like Sapienti Reddy, who still lay where Anton had stabbed him. Eyes open, staring unendingly into nothing.
Mel walked over to his body slowly, her heart heavy. When she knelt down next to him, her vision blurred, and she knew she was crying. She had learned so much from this man, and now his flame had been snuffed out. She touched his chest, whispered an apology, and made a promise.
Behind her, Anton screamed in rage. Undoubtedly he had tried to pull himself free, and that intricate knot had just pulled itself tighter, cutting off his circulation. He screamed again, in obvious pain, but she was in no rush to help him. She closed Sapienti Reddy’s eyes, then took the other blade and the two scabbards from his waist. He would want her to use them. Then she found the two packs belonging to her and Charlotte.
Only then did she walk over to Anton.
“Who took Charlotte?” she demanded.
Anton grew silent. Mel waited, knowing full well that he would not be able to keep his silence. Anton was a bully; he loved lording over people. He would spill if only to cut Mel down.
She didn’t have to wait long. “My clan,” Anton spat. “The chosen ones. The ones who seek power!”
When Anton said chosen ones, Mel rolled her eyes and grabbed a discarded water canteen from the grass. She emptied its contents onto her face and neck, washing off the blood.
“We are invisible and we are everywhere. We cannot be stopped. We will not be stopped. We will have our power—it is our birthright. No one will stop us. Five nights from now at midnight—”
He stopped, as Mel had taken off her soiled shirt to clean the gore from her body. The scars of her life were written there for him to see, plain as day in the morning light, and for once he actually saw her. His gaze roamed over the scars earned through years of training, but they lingered in shock at the number of marks she had on her right rib—the burn marks that represented all of the trials she had successfully completed.
Lasade Kale’s words came to her then. Do you know me? Perhaps Anton was beginning to know her. To see her.
“Why do you need Charlotte?” she asked.
“She’s the key to cracking open the Orb of Lasade,” Anton said.
Mel was surprised Anton knew of the Orb. She had always believed that was Clan Kale business—something the other clans knew nothing of. The Orb was a vessel, the vessel Lasade Kale used to hold the celestial powers of all the descendants in Inter Spatium Abyssus.
“So five nights from now you’re going to sacrifice Charlotte to destroy the Orb?”
“We just need some of her blood,” Anton said. “Then my master has promised her to me.”
Mel shook her head. That wasn’t true—she knew from her readings that it wasn’t true. The Descendant of Lasade Kale needed to be drained entirely of their Kale blood in order to destroy the Orb. Anton had been deceived.
Not to mention, Charlotte wasn’t the Descendant of Lasade Kale.
“You’re an idiot, Anton.”
Anton laughed. “You’re the idiot, Mel. You’re here, in this world. Charlotte is out of your reach. My master will succeed, and we will have our power. Then no prison can hold me.”
Traitor!
Mel unsheathed one of her gold swords, cut open his tunic, and pressed the tip of her blade to his exposed skin. She fully intended to carve the Traitor’s Mark—a circle with a wide vertical line through it—onto his chest… but she couldn’t do it. With a yell of frustration, she re-sheathed her sword and stormed angrily toward one of the fallen Malum. She placed her fingers in its foul wound, then returned to Anton and made the Traitor’s Mark on his chest with the Malum’s blood.
“You fucking bitch! You think this mark will expose me? Everyone hates you, Mel. Everyone thinks you’re the traitor. No one will believe you. It’ll be my word against yours.”
Mel wiped her hand on the grass and grabbed Charlotte’s pack. She pulled out the spare gold Kale tunic she knew would be there, and pulled it on. Then she found the black sash and tied it around her waist. Lastly, she pulled out a veil and laid it around her shoulders. She strapped the gold Kale swords to her back, making sure the hilts were positioned where she liked them, then pulled on her pack.
She knew what she had to do. She would not have her cousin die in the land between hell and the living. She’d been feeling the fire burning in her all night, had tried desperately to push it down. Now she pulled her stone from her pocket, held it in her hand, closed her eyes, and let the fire breathe itself back to life. It’s your birthright. She held the image of Inter Spatium Abyssus in her mind as she had seen it. She remember
ed the offensive heat. Remembered the dry land.
“Show me,” she said aloud, opening her hand and revealing the stone.
It glowed golden in her hand—warm, heavy, pulsing. A living thing.
The gate opened wide, orange and hot. A strong wind blew out of it, swirling Mel’s hair around her face. She placed the stone back into her pocket and wrapped the veil around her face and head.
Before stepping through, she looked back at Anton, heatedly meeting his surprised gaze. “That mark is for one person, Anton. Just one. He’ll be all up in your ass shortly.”
Then she stepped into the orange abyss.
Chapter Fifteen
Victor stood near the rear entrance of the house, waiting for the door to open and for his grandmother to walk out. But after a few minutes of staring at the door, he sat down on the porch steps with Thrash. Again. He had a routine now of getting up and sitting down, getting up and sitting down, that he couldn’t help. He had been doing it all morning while Thrash sat quietly.
Grandma Mari was inside, meeting with the Sapientis who were in the camp, trying to convince them to send the helicopters to the drop location. Judging by the heated voices that filtered through the closed doors, the others were not having it. Victor knew it was completely unheard of to have the helicopters go back to the drop location so soon, but goddammit, this was an emergency. Something was wrong at the drop location. He felt it in his bones.
It had started earlier that morning. He had woken up with a start and a rage that sent him jumping out of his bunk and into action. Thrash too. They both had the feeling that they needed to do something. It was powerful. Like a call. A compelling call.
So they charged down the tents, waking up Kale descendants, calling them to arms. But the other Kales looked at the two like they had lost their minds. They told them to quiet down, stop scaring the kids and waking up the babies.
Only Grandma Mari listened. When she pushed through the curtain of her sleeping quarters, she took one look at them and saw all she needed. What exactly she saw was a mystery to Victor, but she was the most concerned Victor had ever seen her, and she called for an emergency meeting immediately.
Unfortunately, the other Sapientis had dragged their feet. The sun was already peeking over the horizon by the time they walked into the house past Thrash and Victor. Grandma Mari was already inside—had been inside waiting for them.
It was then that the heated discussion began.
Time dragged by slowly, and before he knew it, yet another hour had gone by without any word. Victor decided that if a decision wasn’t made to send the helicopters within the next fifteen minutes, he would take action himself.
It was then that Gabe stumbled over and sat down beside them. He had dark bruises under his eyes, and his hair was a sweaty mess. He smelled like the pit.
“Heard in the med tent what’s going on,” he said. “Everyone in camp is talking about how Clan Kale wants to ruin Ambulant Laboriosum.”
“We’re not trying to ruin anything,” said Thrash. He stretched his arm over his head. He no longer needed the sling; strangely, he had woken with his arm almost healed. Victor had had a similar experience—when he woke up, his hand felt great, and he could make a fist easily. And now, as he looked at Gabe, he realized that the bruises on his face had healed up too quickly as well.
“You didn’t feel that shit this morning?” Thrash asked Gabe. “You didn’t feel something wrong?”
Gabe furrowed his brow. “Yeah… I felt something,” he said after a moment. “I woke up like I’d come out of a nightmare. But that Ferus doctor gave me a sedative—knocked me right out. What does that mean?”
“We know as much as you do,” said Thrash. “And we’ve been sitting here all morning waiting for someone to do something.”
“Well, let’s stop waiting,” said Gabe, popping to his feet. “I know a girl who can pilot a helicopter. So let’s go. Fuck everybody.”
“What about Grandma?” Thrash said.
Victor had already made his decision. “She’s doing what she needs to do. Let’s do what we need to do.”
“That’s right, brotha!” said Gabe. “Better to ask forgiveness than to ask permission. Let’s go get Olive.”
Gabe led the two of them to the camp’s eating area. “Olive” turned out to be Olivia Grayson from Clan Moors, and she was not happy to see Gabe. In fact, if Victor had to bet money, he would say that the woman despised his brother.
“I’m not interested, Gabe. At all. Go ask someone else.” Olivia pushed her food away, rose, and started walking away. With her straight blond hair in a ponytail and her ice-blue eyes, her look screamed Ice Princess.
“Olive—”
“Don’t call me that!” she snarled, turning around. “You don’t get to call me that.”
“Okay,” Gabe said in a soothing voice. “I promise I won’t call you that. But you need to know Luke is in trouble.”
She looked at Gabe squarely now. “Are you messing with me?”
Victor cut in. “No. We believe everyone who left yesterday is in danger. We know for sure that Mel and Charlotte are.”
“How do you know this?”
“No one has reported in,” Victor replied. The lie came easily—but he couldn’t very well tell her the truth.
“Why aren’t the Elders doing anything?”
“They’re discussing it as we speak,” said Victor. “But we’re not going to wait for them to decide. We want to go now. We need you to pilot us. Are you in?”
Olivia hesitated, and Victor held his breath.
“Let me get my things.”
Victor felt some relief, but he knew that was only half the battle. They also needed to get to the helicopters and take off without anybody catching on to what they were doing.
While they made a dash to grab their weapons, Thrash suggested they ask a few trusted Kales to go with them, since they didn’t know what they were walking into. Victor sent him to go recruit, and he and Gabe headed for the helicopters.
The helicopters were sitting in a clearing behind the wash areas, quiet and abandoned. While they waited for Thrash to join them, Olivia came running up with a knapsack and an impressive-looking sword. “For danger,” she explained.
They settled into a helicopter to wait. Five minutes later, Thrash appeared. He’d brought Justine and Andrew Wiley, Smitty, Siva, and Killian O’Shea. They were all sprinting, and Victor quickly realized why.
They were being chased by a mob.
“Start it up! Start it up!” Victor yelled.
Olivia immediately started the rotors.
Thrash’s group jumped aboard, all six scrambling into seats. Victor tried to shut the door, but the mob was upon them, clawing at him, preventing the door from closing. Gabe, Killian, and Smitty kicked and pushed and punched anyone within reach, pushing them back, and Siva grabbed the door and shut it on a Janso’s hand. Victor couldn’t hear the man’s scream, but he saw his howl of agony as he fell back.
Olivia lifted off the second the door was closed.
So far, so good.
****
It was only once they were up in the sky that Victor realized the next challenge: They had no idea where to go. His feeling that morning told him only that whatever had happened occurred to the west. After a brief discussion with Thrash and Gabe, the trio decided there were three likely drop-off points in that direction. They would have to go to them one by one.
The first two sites showed no sign that anyone had been there. No camp, no disaster. And besides, they didn’t feel right. So they headed for the last of the three sites, and as they approached, Victor couldn’t help feel a bit of apprehension. What if this wasn’t the site either? What if he was wrong to trust the feeling he’d felt this morning? And worst of all: what if his feelings were correct, the site was correct… and yet they were too late?
He hoped the Sapientis had sent the second helicopter after them. It would at least know for certain where to go.
<
br /> As the chopper at last came up over the third site, Victor saw his worst fears come to life. Bodies littered the clearing. Lots of bodies.
It was even worse than he’d imagined.
The moment they landed, Victor tore open the door and ran out. The others tumbled out right behind him. They ran from body to body, looking for survivors. Even one person alive. But all of them were dead. Murdered. Massacred. It was inhuman. Some looked to have been stabbed, but others had been gored, maybe even… eaten.
What the fuck did this?
Olivia Grayson sobbed over one body, and Siva wept over another. But Victor continued on, searching for Mel and Charlotte.
And then he stopped. And stared. The body that he came to next was black, grotesque, alien. It lay dead in a pool of black blood, its skin smoking slightly. Victor knew without a doubt that it was this creature that had done a lot of the goring.
“They’re not here,” said Justine Wiley, running up behind him, then stopped short. “What the fuck is that?”
Victor poked his sword at it, but no matter how hard he stabbed, his blade didn’t even scratch its flesh.
Thrash joined them. “Malum,” he said in a dead voice.
Justine frowned. “This needs to be radioed in,” she said. “The Sapientis need to know.”
“I’ll do it,” Thrash said, and hurried off. Justine moved away to offer support to Olivia.
Victor looked around the clearing once more. He’d still found no sign of either Mel or Charlotte. He was about to shout for Gabe to help, but spotted his brother consoling Siva. So instead he shouted for Andrew.
“Drew! Make a circuit around the clearing, see if there’s any other…”
Victor was going to say “dead,” but the word caught in his throat. He didn’t want to think of Mel and Charlotte that way. But Andrew got the point, and proceeded to move around the clearing.
Killian came up to Victor looking shaken and worried. “I can’t find Cori,” he said. “I’ve searched everywhere. I can’t find her.”
