“They told me you could do that,” said the woman, raising the gun and getting ready to hit him in the face.
The Axeboy shifted out of the Tartarus and into the third realm, calling his axe to him with his other hand and pushing himself up into a sitting position. He clenched his eyes shut and pressed his wounded hand against his chest, still hollering out in pain, the fingertips of his crushed hand busted open and bleeding. He didn't have time to wait for them to heal, so he pulled his bloody hand away from his chest, cut a long strip from his white T-shirt and wound it around the two fingers, wiping tears away with the back of his hand.
God, how he wanted to cripple the Agent who'd attacked him, but he couldn't let himself get distracted. The Agents wouldn't matter for much longer.
He got to his feet and made his way down the twisting and floating sidewalks of the third ghostly realm, then shifted to the Tartarus Realm behind where the black bus was parked. Peering around the bus, he didn't see the red-dreadlocked woman anywhere. He backed away from the rear of the bus, then ran towards it and jumped, shifting into the third ghostly realm long enough to move through the back door, then back into the Tartarus Realm to land in the center aisle of the bus, rows of seats on either side of him.
The back of his head pounded with pain and the deafening noise was driving knives into the back of his skull, forcing him to squint in order to see straight. He made his way down the center aisle of the neon blue interior, his axe poised in the air in his non-wounded hand, until he came to a black box with several screens displaying moving green lights and numbers on it. The box was mounted into the ceiling above some of the front seats. The moving lights seemed to be dancing to the pulse of the noise.
He pulled the axe back and swung full force at the screens.
File 71 :: [Julius Marcos]
Julius crashed through the glass and wood of the large window, broken shards raining down around him as he tumbled to the marble floor of The French Opera House's lobby. He growled and shook pieces of glass from his hair, then got to his feet and ran to the dual great staircases that curved up like giant snakes towards the theater's balconies.
Dark fur burst from his skin, but he struggled to keep his body human-sized for fear that the false leg would get worn out. He ran up the curved staircase, past the second floor and up to the third. Hazy memories told him that the walls used to be covered in grand paintings, the landings themselves decorated with plants – but he pushed these memories aside and looked for any evidence of a stairway that lead to the roof. The building was huge – it was going to take too long to find.
Julius tossed his trench coat aside and roared out, his shirt splitting at its seams as his body erupted in a mess of muscle and coarse fur. He looked up at the high ceiling still a couple yards above him, then lowered his head and jumped straight up, cracking the ceiling with his shoulders.
Falling back down, his foot and false leg pounded spiderweb cracks into the marble where he landed, pieces of the ceiling raining down on him from above. Looking up, he saw an exposed beam in the broken ceiling.
He jumped back up, reaching out with his one clawed hand and grabbing the beam, then pulling himself up through the ceiling, using the stub of his other arm to hook himself onto the beam. The crawlspace was small, and he punched up through the wooden floor above him, grabbing the floor to pull himself further up and into the building's attic.
Once on his feet once more, he looked up at the roof just above his head, then jumped up and smashed it with his shoulder. It cracked, but held firm. He jumped again, then again, wooden pieces falling down around him. With one more jump he broke through, out into the light of Oblivion and landed on the rooftop, a booming roar escaping from deep within him.
The Angel of Death flew down from the sky and landed next to the young man playing a cornet. The man played his heart out, though nothing resembling music was coming from the cornet itself – and any noise it did make was drowned out by the bounce music. With one glance Julius knew that the instrument was Louis Armstrong's, and her plan made a little more sense to him. He'd known of the cornet's abilities, and had personally seen to it that it was kept guarded inside one of the state museums.
“Angel of Death!” he roared against the chorus of bounce music. “I, Julius Marcos, last incarnation of Bes, do declare you an enemy of the city of New Orleans! You will be brought to justice, and your job reassigned!”
“Now that's hardly within your authority,” she laughed. “And anyway, everything is going smoothly...”
He stepped towards her and she took a step back, closer to the cornet player.
“You said we needed things to seem real,” she said. “We needed my son to believe that he was going to get away with it. He's a smart boy – he would have smelled a set up a mile away.” She wrapped her arm around the cornet player's chest and picked him up, yet still the musician played his soul into that ancient instrument.
Julius took a couple steps towards her, feeling his claws slide out slowly from the fingertips of his single hand. “You don't deserve those wings.” His voice was as course as jagged rocks. “And I'm going to rip them off your back and give them to someone else.”
He could see the wheels turning in her eyes, the calculation. She would have to get close to him in order to pull his life from his body, and she most likely didn't know if it would even work or not, and neither did he – he was the last incarnation of a god, but he was still a damned god. One thing he did know was that, as strong as she was, he could snap her bones if she didn't pull the life from him first.
He heard some of the bounce music suddenly stop. Only one of the buses was left – there wasn't much time.
The Angel pulled the cornet out of the player's hands. The musician shook off his daze, then saw Julius' beastly form and screamed out in terror. He tried to writhe out of The Angel's grasp, but she held him tight, then he fell unconscious and went limp in her arms.
“We both have similar goals,” she said to Julius, “but we do have different priorities.” She turned and tossed the cornet player off the edge of the roof.
“I doubt that.” Julius spoke through clenched teeth, taking another step towards her.
He saw her eyes widen – he could taste her quickened heartbeat in the air between them. She'd calculated that he would jump after the musician – but Julius had made some calculations of his own.
“Oh, fuck you,” she said, turning towards where she'd thrown the cornet player, diving into the floor of the roof and shifting out of the Tartarus.
Julius took off in a run in the same direction and leaped off the roof, falling towards the musician. The Angel of Death appeared below him, snatching the unconscious man from his death with her large black wings spreading out behind her to slow their fall. Julius crashed right into her back, causing her to falter but not hit the ground. He gripped her hips with his legs, reached around her wing with his one arm and wrenched the cornet player from her grip, dropping him the short distance to the ground. Then he reached up and hugged one of her wings to his chest, keeping it closed, her other wing frantically beating and sending them spiraling through the air to smash into one of the columns of The French Opera House. They both crashed to the sidewalk, the splintered column falling down between them and into the street.
Julius jumped to his feet, leaping over the column, grabbing The Angel by one of her wings and throwing her into the middle of the street. She tumbled across the smooth asphalt, landing on her side. He smelled Mars and Edith nearby, and forced some of the animalistic parts of him further down inside, not wanting the newer Agents to be incapacitated by their fear of him. He was still covered in fur, but was closer to human size.
Mars came out from behind a corner, the net-gun lighting up in her hands as she pointed it at The Angel. “Hey, Death Bitch!” she yelled over the booming bounce music.
The Angel leaped at Mars, spinning as one of her massive wings knocked hard into the Agent and threw her and the gun against th
e side of a building.
“Now!” said Julius.
The Angel looked back at Julius, then leaped into the air to fly away from him, but Edith was already coming up behind her, aiming the second net-gun at her (the second one being very small and void of all the lights and noise). She shot and a net of light enveloped The Angel, with a single rope of light connecting the net to the gun in Edith's hand. The Angel stopped in mid air as the net tightened around her, pulling her wings close to her body. Then Edith yanked the gun downward, pulling the net of light with The Angel inside of it crashing into the street.
The Angel of Death was still and unmoving underneath the glowing net.
Julius pointed at The Angel and looked at Edith, who wouldn't look directly at him. “Guard her,” he said as his fur slowly retracted into his body. Then he turned to Mars. “Are you alright?”
Mars got up and brushed off her pants and kissed the flower that was wrapped around her wrist, then picked up the net gun. “I'm fine.” She shot a net of light at a wall. “Gun's fine.”
“Mars, grab the musician and the cornet and get them into the bus. Then hide and watch for The Axeboy, while keeping an eye on Edith – she can't wander far with her gun tethered to The Angel. He might come to try and free his mother.” Julius turned back to Edith. “If you see The Axeboy, yell for Mars.”
“We've got the ground covered, Mr. Boss,” said Mars. She ran towards the unconscious musician but turned back as screams erupted from up above. Julius turned and looked, and one of the rooftops of trumpet players had several pieces of Oblivion floating around it.
“I got them!” Julius yelled at Mars. “Keep to the plan!” Then he ran over to the black party bus, threw open the back door and grabbed one of the extra duffel bags. He slung it around his shoulder as he ran towards the rooftop of trumpet players.
File 72 :: [William Town]
Music dripped like golden sweat from William's face and hands as he pulled the trumpet from his lips and tried to blink the music from his vision. Looking around, he was brought back to the reality of being stuck on a rooftop surrounded by other trumpet players.
The musician on the building with The Angel of Death must have stopped playing, unlocking them from their musical chains – if only temporarily. He looked out at that grand, large building and saw some kind of dark, one-armed monster leap off the roof, which seemed to be empty now – and there was a barrage of bounce music coming up from the streets below.
He sure as hell hoped that it was Edith's friends who had shown up, and not something worse than The Angel or The Axeboy. He looked down at the trumpet in his hands. “I'm sorry, darlin'. You know I am.”
Then he turned to the dozens of musicians on the roof with him, all of them shaking off the haze that the cornet kept putting them in. “Hey!” he yelled, and they all turned to him. “Listen here! There's only one way to break the spell we keep being put under. Unfortunately, it means throwing away what is most precious to us in this world!” Then he hurled his trumpet off the edge of the building, his heart skipping as he watched it go over the edge. He pointed to the pile of trumpets on the roof. “Your trumpets, and all of these, have to go! You know it's the only way!”
Musician after musician payed respect to their instruments, some closing their eyes in silence, while others did so with a kiss or with whispered words. Then each tossed their tool of creation over the side of the roof, unwilling to be put under that trance once more. William and several of the others hurried to the pile of trumpets, carrying them over to the edge by the armful and hurling them over the side.
File 73 :: [Roman Wing]
As Roman listened to the strangely sad chorus of trumpets which snaked through the air around him, he looked out from the edge of Building D's roof and over the host of gray buildings, calculating how best to travel to the other rooftops that held musicians. He was tasked to move upriver to Building C, which he could see from where he was, then head towards the river and evacuate Building B if Adelaide or Julius hadn't gotten there already. He couldn't see Building B, but made an estimated guess of its location based on the distances between D and C and The French Opera House, as well as his memory of Edith's map.
When the musicians suddenly stopped playing, he pulled himself out of his calculations and turned to them. They were shaking off their dazes like waking from dreams. He yelled – he had to yell in order for them to notice him, much less follow his orders. “Alright! Listen to me! I'm here to evacuate you and bring you to safety!” He pointed at the rope ladder. “Everyone, drop your trumpets now and start climbing down!”
Nearly every one of them looked down reluctantly at the trumpets in their hands.
“Then keep them!” he yelled. “Just climb down the damned ladder! Tuck them into your belts or shove them down your shirts! You'll need both hands to move fast! You are still in danger!”
He really hoped the cornet didn't start up again, since they were keeping their trumpets – if they started playing while climbing down the ladder, at least several of them would die. But Roman knew better than most about the relationships between people and the objects they adored – often those relationships figured into the production of Wonder.
The trumpet players began filing down the rope ladder. “When you get to the ground, wait there!” he told them. “And stay away from any clouds or fog! The clouds are very dangerous! We will come and get you and take you to safety!”
Roman turned and looked back over the sea of rooftops, and something caught his eye. He was certain that none of the Agents could have reached the rooftop of Building C yet, not with the plan that Julius had given them – yet coursing down the side of the building was a golden waterfall of trumpets, glittering in the light of Oblivion.
Then something else caught his eye – towards the river a few pieces of Oblivion had broken apart and were drifting down to where Roman had calculated Building B to be. They looked like little pieces of electrical clouds. Building C would have to wait.
Glancing around to make sure that all the musicians were evacuating, Roman looked back to the rooftops and quickly calculated the most efficient way to get to Building B, which was about two blocks from where he stood. Unfortunately there was no direct route – he'd have to zigzag across rooftops in order to get there.
He turned upriver and ran along the length of the roof, pulling the strap of the second duffel bag tight across his chest. When he got to the edge of the roof he leaped down onto the next building, which had a six foot drop but only a four foot gap between. He continued running, climbing, and jumping across three more buildings, some with slanted rooftops and some with flat, until he jumped clear over both Toulouse Street and Dauphine Street, heading towards the river and zigzagging across the entire block. He saw the rooftop of trumpet players, who were looking around bewildered at a house-sized cloud floating towards one side of their roof.
“Get away from it!” Roman yelled, but he was still too far away and two of them screamed as they were sucked inside. The other musicians panicked and ran to the other edge of the roof as Roman leaped across Royal Street, grabbing the edge of Building B and quickly climbing up.
“Listen to me!” he yelled, and he saw the sudden ease in most of their eyes as they realized that he was someone who might know what was going on. “If you touch those clouds, your fate will be worse than death!” He dropped his duffel bag and pulled out a rope ladder, securing it to an industrial ventilation shaft, then ran over and threw it off the side of the building. “Drop your trumpets or secure them to yourselves, and climb down the ladder! When you get to the ground, stay there! We will come and escort you to safety!”
File 74 :: [Adelaide LaCoste]
The toes of Adelaide's boots dug into the gray brick as she pulled herself quickly up the black rope towards the building's roof. She was barely aware of the burn in her shoulders and arms as she looked up and saw the lit-up sky of Oblivion.
From above her came a melancholy mix of music from the
trumpet players, and from the streets behind her came the fast booming of the bounce music. She'd used the grappling hook to climb up the two balconies of the building that had been labeled Building A in Edith's diagram, and now was climbing the remaining two stories in the same manner.
She got to the edge of the rooftop and pulled herself up and over, knowing from the sound of trumpets that the musicians were still under The Angel and The Axeboy's spell. Climbing the rope hadn't been good for the stitches in her wounded wrist, which was bleeding through the bandages from where The Axeboy had bitten her. She tightened the bandages and quickly surveyed the roof, stepping around the interspersed musicians until she found some huge metal pipes that she deemed strong enough to support the rope ladder. Adelaide dropped and opened the duffel bag, then began fastening the ladder to the pipes.
Just as she was finishing up, the music stopped. She stood up, walked over and tossed the rope ladder off the side of the building.
“Listen up!” she bellowed out. “I'm here to help you! Drop your trumpets and start climbing down this ladder!”
She saw the hesitation in many of their eyes, both at a stranger telling them what to do, and at the thought of throwing away their beloved instruments. For many of them their trumpets had been the only thing from their life to hold on to in that dark time – their last vestige of hope.
But she was their hope now, and she didn't have time for sentiments.
“Drop the trumpets or stay here forever!” she yelled. “Move! When you get to the street, stay there! We will come and get you when it is safe!”
The musicians hurriedly dropped their trumpets or tied them to their clothes, then began lining up and filing down the ladder. Adelaide looked across the rooftops towards The French Opera House and saw Julius in a bestial form leaping off the roof. Looking across the sea of buildings, she tried to locate the other rooftops of trumpet players and saw Roman Wing leaping through the air, probably across Toulouse Street.
The Axeboy's Blues (The Agents Of Book 1) Page 36
