Shades of Death

by Ramy Vance

  Roy was already on his feet. “Gotta get her TV ready. She’s doing some PR run for recruitment. She’s going to be on the Steve Campbell Show.”

  Anabelle felt her stomach twist, and she was hit with a feeling she hadn’t experienced in a while: jealousy. “Are you kidding me? She’s going on Campbell? I was an international phenomenon, and I could never get on it!”

  Roy gave Anabelle a puzzled look. “Uh…okay. You sound a little upset.”

  Anabelle quickly regained her composure. “No, not at all. Just surprised.”

  “All right. If something’s on your mind, just give me a call in a bit, okay?”

  Anabelle stood and kissed Roy on the cheek. “All right.”

  Roy walked out of the closet, leaving Anabelle alone with her thoughts. Why hadn’t Myrddin asked her to be the spokesperson? Anabelle had been famous for nearly a decade.

  Whatever. You wouldn’t have wanted to do it anyways. It was your idea to leave all of that behind. You didn’t get put in charge of the DGA to sit in front of a camera and look pretty. It is not important.

  Anabelle left the closet, repeating that last part to herself over and over as she headed to her bedroom. But she didn’t quite believe it.

  Chapter Seven

  Abby woke up before the sun rose, a habit she’d been unable to lose after leaving the farm. It didn’t bother her since it meant she had extra time in the morning to herself to think things over or to simply enjoy the silence.

  And there was a lot to think about. Abby had gathered the seriousness of the briefing from the day before. But, if she was being honest with herself, it didn’t sound any worse than what they’d been dealing with the last few months.

  When fighting a never-ending war with a being hellbent on enslaving all organic life, everything else began to feel like a monster-of-the-week type of situation. And the monsters were growing more powerful, which was unnerving. And frightening.

  Abby could still smell Rasputina’s rotting breath, and she tried not to focus too much on how easily the lich’s knife had penetrated her armor. And there was no way she was spending a second thinking about the lich cackling wildly as she had cut her stomach open.

  A chill ran down Abby’s spine. She decided she needed to focus on something, and she always had work she could do.

  A few weeks ago, Abby had taken a sample of draconic fluid from a human named Alex Bound, one of the Dragon Riders. Or former Dragon Rider, from what Abby had been hearing. Apparently, Alex had mutinied and had attacked one of the only hopes of destroying the Dark One.

  Abby had attempted to talk to Roy about the situation since he was the only person ever around HQ who had worked with her previously. Anytime she questioned Roy about Alex, his expression would become distant, as though he was trying to remember something from a long time ago. Then he would rattle off some official-sounding jargon about capturing Alex, and that would be it.

  Something was up, and Abby didn’t buy any of it. She’d met Alex. They had been talking regularly—often enough that Abby had felt comfortable designing a tracking device using the draconic fluid and human blood samples she’d taken from Alex. And this design was off-book. She hadn’t bothered to write anything down.

  Abby worked for a few hours, occasionally checking her messages to see if it was time to go yet. At around eight, she received the request to meet in the hangar. It was time to go home.

  The Crookins’ farm hadn’t changed much, and Abby had returned at her favorite time of year. The crops were just beginning to come in, and Ma’s garden was blooming with vibrant life and color.

  Abby didn’t go to the front door immediately. Her family didn’t know what time she was arriving, and she wanted to take this chance to look at the farm by herself. She wanted to see if she still recognized it.

  After a while, Abby understood that this place would always be her home, no matter how she changed.

  She walked around the big house to her old workshop, opened the door, and peeked into the musty old barn. The smell—she’d forgotten the smell of old wood and scorched steel. Everything at HQ smelled sterile. Not like this. This was the smell of hard work you couldn’t wash off the walls.

  I can look at this junk anytime. Maybe after a couple of hours of hellos.

  As Abby strode back to the big house, she spotted one of her drones flying over the wheat field, showering the crops with water. She couldn’t tell, but it was probably Gertrude, or at least her family’s version of Gertrude.

  When Abby had left to join the war, she and Creon had sent a team to retrofit the older drone models she had left at the barn. They’d included an AI version of Martin, which they had also named Gertrude.

  She was substantially less rude, but still had a little bit of snark.

  The other two drones weren’t far behind Gertrude in terms of technology and snark. Abby was glad she had left the drones behind for the family. Things would have been difficult without Pa around. Ma and Margie might have been capable on their own, but two extra hands were better than none.

  Now, Abby knocked on the door of the big house. A sudden commotion sounded from inside, followed by a startled scream.

  Abby’s heart tensed. Had the Dark Forces been tipped off that she would be home, away from the team? What if something had happened to her family?

  Nanobots poured over Abby, encasing her in her armor as the front door was flung open.

  Ma wrapped her arms around her daughter and lifted her into the air before suddenly shrieking and dropping her.

  “Who the hell are you?” Ma shouted as she reached for the shotgun resting beside the door.

  Abby’s nanobots retreated instantly, and she stood unarmored in front of her mom. “Whoa! You can go ahead and put that down. It’s just me, Ma.”

  Ma laughed nervously as she leaned the gun against the wall. “Jesus Christ. You scared the living daylights out of me. What was all that?” she asked, waving a hand at Abby’s face.

  “I’ll explain it later.” Abby threw her arms around her mom and hugged her tight. “The farm’s looking good. Real good.”

  The pair went into the living room, where Margie was sitting on the couch, her right leg propped up on a pillow and encased in a cast. She was reading and looked downright miserable until she saw her sister.

  “Abby! You’re back!” Margie tried to stand, no doubt out of habit, before glaring at her cast and flopping back on the sofa.

  Abby rushed to give her a hug. She kissed her sister on the forehead and said, “I’m glad the farm is in such good condition because you look terrible.”

  Margie stuck her tongue out at Abby while pretending to focus on her book. “Did you get fired or something?”

  Abby laughed as she ruffled Margie’s hair. “Yeah, I missed you too. Where are the twins?”

  Ma looked at the grandfather clock. “Right now? Probably running around with the gnomes.”

  Abby’s eyes narrowed at her mom. “Wait, did you say ‘gnomes?’”

  “Oh, yeah, I said gnomes. Come on, give your sister a hand. Would have thought you knew about them.”

  Abby grabbed Margie’s crutches and helped her to her feet. They followed Ma out the back door toward the garden their father used to tend to. Abby didn’t allow herself to spend too much time looking at the dried-out plants. Didn’t seem like anyone had touched it for a while.

  Abby could see the twins in the distance, weaving in and out of the edges of the cornfields. They were giggling loudly, three gnomes chasing them.

  For some reason, Abby had assumed the gnomes would be redcaps or garden gnomes, but they were like Creon—small, limber, almost childlike creatures. And younger than Creon, who appeared to be around her father’s age.

  “Hey, get your sorry butts over here!”

  The twins froze and toppled over each other when they heard Abby’s voice. The gnomes ran into them, and briefly, they were all nothing but a swirling ball of arms, legs, and shrill giggles. Once they managed to untang
le themselves, the two little girls and the gnomes came running up to Abby.

  The twins tackled Abby to the ground, covering her in hugs and kisses. When the girls finally calmed down, the three gnomes introduced themselves. Turned out they were siblings of Creon’s.

  After Abby had left, Myrddin had looked for a way to help the farm out. Creon had mentioned a couple of siblings who were interested in human agriculture and animal husbandry. It had seemed like a good fit, and the gnomes had been on the farm ever since.

  Abby was surprised Myrddin had made such an effort to ensure her family was taken care of in her absence.

  When Ma asked the gnomes if they were staying for dinner, they declined the invitation. They said it was good to meet Abby, and they let Ma know what time they would start the next day. The twins were upset they were leaving, but the gnomes promised to play with them after work the next day.

  After the gnomes left, the family went inside, Abby marveling the whole time at how their lives had turned fantastical so fast.

  Everyone helped out with dinner that night, except for Margie, who sat at the table and grumbled. Once the preparations for the meal were finished, Ma asked Margie and the twins to set the table.

  When the girls left the kitchen, Ma decreased the oven temperature and sat at the nook. Abby pulled up a stool to sit beside her. “How did Margie break her leg?”

  Ma sighed and shook her head. “Acting like a damn fool was how she did it. She got in her head that the shingles on the barn needed to be replaced and decided to do it herself, knowing full well she’s terrified of heights. Got up there, got the spins, and practically broke her damn neck.”

  Abby wasn’t surprised. Margie would never admit she was afraid of anything. One day that would probably get her in trouble. “She’s getting to be quite the handful, huh?”

  “No worse than you were.”

  Abby scoffed loudly. “Me? A handful? I’m the model of a perfect kid.”

  Ma kissed Abby on the forehead. “First the out-of-control science-fair projects, then the explosions in your lab. Then the robots. You sealed the deal by marching off to war.”

  Abby heard the sadness in Ma’s voice. “You know, if you need my help around here, I can come home.”

  “No, no. What you’re doing is important, more important than this farm. And, to be honest, we’re doing better than we ever have. All the help Myrddin’s provided has turned this farm around. We were doing good before, but now we’re thriving. Now, are you going to tell me how you managed to get so shiny and futuristic earlier?”

  Abby didn’t want to get into it, but she knew Ma would not allow her to avoid explaining herself. “Okay, but you have to promise not to get mad. Okay?”

  “I hate when you start a story like that.”

  After dinner, Abby and the family stayed up watching TV. She hadn’t realized how badly she had missed not having anything to worry about. Sitting in her living room, surrounded by people she loved and having a reason to laugh was the best vacation she could ask for.

  But it also was a little bit too much excitement.

  Abby decided to go to bed before anyone else, prompting complaints from the twins, and teasing from Margie about Abby growing too old to hang. Abby promised she’d be up working earlier than they all would, so it evened out.

  She went up to her bedroom and stood in the doorway for a few moments. Nothing had been moved or changed, kind of like her father’s garden.

  The thought was caustic, and Abby pushed it away. She changed for bed, pulled the covers over her head, and was asleep within minutes.

  It was not peaceful sleep, though. Her dreams were hazy and nonsensical. Images chased her in a panicked frenzy. She watched herself running from orcs, her father’s face flashing in front of her from time to time, blood pooling around his head.

  Panicked, her need to scream woke her, and she sat up, cold sweat dripping from her forehead. She had calmed a little when something moved in the shadowy corner of the room. She froze, her heart stuck in her throat.

  Rasputina emerged from the shadows. She was holding a knife and smiling. “I’m gonna eat you,” Rasputina sang. “Gonna rip you up, gut you up, and suck you down…”

  The lich leapt on the bed before Abby could move, raising and plunging her knife over and over into Abby’s chest as she battled with the sheets, desperate to get out of the bed.

  Abby woke up again, frantic and hyperventilating, her blankets and sheets twisted around her. She scanned the room.

  Must have still been dreaming.

  She went to the bathroom and splashed her face with water. It was a little after midnight, and now she was unable to sleep, with all the adrenaline pumping through her veins. She did what she always used to do when she couldn’t sleep: grabbed a thick coat and went out to the barn.

  Though darker than her bedroom, the barn was much more comforting. She flicked the lights on just to be safe, though, and strolled around, admiring the half-finished projects covering the workbenches.

  Abby wasn’t an arrogant person, but she was proud of what she’d created. Her ma had always said that was the finest example of humility: knowing who you were without taking or adding anything for pretense.

  All of a sudden, an old, black-and-white television sitting on one of the tables flicked on. “Shit, don’t tell me I’m still dreaming?”

  Abby had rigged the TV up as a monitor for coding the drones. And now, though covered in a thick layer of dust, an image wavered on the screen.

  The picture was distorted, static obscuring what appeared to be a face. A soft voice came through the speaker, but it was too garbled to decipher the words. Abby leaned in to get a closer look.

  “Persephone?”

  Chapter Eight

  Sarah used the Hadron Collider to teleport to the desert dunes of the gnomish world, which were quiet at night. Few creatures could deal with the heat. Nearly every living thing died out there, leaving it a vast expanse of nothing.

  For this reason, the Dark One’s forces used it for the majority of their vital transportations. There were no roadblocks, no threats.

  Sarah believed it to be the perfect spot for an ambush.

  She and Kravis were camped out under the stars. A small fire burned while Kravis lay back and watched the night sky. Sarah was too busy with her map to pay attention to the stars and planets twinkling elegantly above her. She wanted to confirm the Dark One’s convoy would be arriving on schedule.

  More importantly, she wanted to ensure her reinforcements would depart on time.

  Kravis yawned loudly, a gigantic sound for a gnome to be able to make. “You know, we never get to do anything like this anymore. All of our missions are rushed. Get in and get out. Not nearly enough time to enjoy anything.”

  Sarah agreed with Kravis. There was barely any time to—how did the gnomes put it—polish your gears? “Not like we have much choice. The whole planet is a goddamned warzone. Figures the only place we could relax would be this hellscape.”

  Kravis sat up and gazed into the fire, his face barely illuminated by the flames. His eyes were shadowed by an oppressive brow, giving him the look of one who had never known joy. It had always struck Sarah as funny because when they had first met, he had made her laugh all the time. Now, neither of them laughed much. At least, not at what made normal people laugh.

  Confident that her reinforcements would arrive on time, Sarah put away her holomap and went to sit beside Kravis at the fire. He rested his head on her arm, as he couldn’t reach any higher, which was something Sarah found endearing.

  He was small enough to pick up and throw. She’d done it a couple of times, usually during sparring rounds and playful, uh, tussles.

  Kravis opened a flask of gnomish liquor. The closest thing Sarah had ever tasted was vodka, and that couldn’t compare. This shit burned all the way out of your urethra. But, goddamn, did it make you feel alive, your insides all aflame, ready for whatever came your way.

  Sarah to
ok the flask and sipped the liquor. “What’s the first thing you’re doing when this is over?”

  Kravis drank from the flask. “Probably fucking you.”

  “Which you already do. Anything new?”

  “That’ll be new. In a room. One of ours. So, I guess, get a place. Or build one. Not sure what’ll be standing when all of this is over.”

  “Here, right?”

  Kravis hung his head, staring deeper into the fire as though he’d find answers there. “Don’t know. Would be nice to rebuild with everyone else. But I don’t know if I’ll be able to stomach being here through all that. Seeing what’s been done.”

  “You would hate Earth. Everything is crowded. Humans are loud. Constant bickering. You’d go crazy. Crazier than you already are.”

  Kravis reached for the bag of food and pulled out a hunk of dried meat. He took a bite and offered it to Sarah. “Me? Crazy? Hardly.”

  “Maybe not crazy. Sadistic.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  Sarah chuckled, but it was a harsh sound. There was too much truth in their jokes, but truth was all they had. Of all the people Sarah had met during the war, Kravis was the one most changed. He held the same opinion about Sarah as she did of him.

  All soldiers saw horrible things; there was no way around it. War consisted of atrocities and terror. The difference Kravis and Sarah shared was they didn’t merely see these things, they were often the ones undertaking them.

  Espionage. Intel. When necessary, torture. A blind eye was turned to the methods the couple used to get results, and Sarah had done things she’d never expected she was capable of, let alone taking delight in. No matter how Sarah looked at it, she knew she was becoming a monster. Both herself and Kravis. Someone had to do it. Unfortunately, that lot had fallen on them.

  Kravis looked up from the flames. “What you thinking about?”

  For a second, Sarah thought about keeping it all to herself. But she and Kravis had promised to be honest with each other. “About all the shit we have to do in the name of defeating evil.” She sucked air in between her teeth. “You know, the Dark Gate Angels wanted me to be a part of their team. Meant a lot to me to be asked.”