Shades of Death

by Ramy Vance

  Rasputina drove her knife into Steve’s hand as skeletal arms appeared and pinned the host to his table. She waited for him to stop screaming. “Come on, I’m on a tight schedule. It took a lot to make time to come see you two today. I don’t want to waste it. What you got for me, Steve? Hit me with the hard ones.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The cameras were still rolling. Over a million viewers had watched two security guards bleed out on national television and Steve Campbell swear loudly as he tried to pull the knife from his hand.

  Terra was frozen to her seat but not from fear. The skeleton hands wrapped around her wrists and ankles held her fast. No matter how much she struggled, it made no difference. She regretted not having worn her exo-suit under her uniform.

  Rasputina didn’t seem to mind how distressed the audience, or Campbell, was. She was still preening for the camera, pretending to be slightly uncomfortable but still flattered. “Are talk shows usually this quiet? Or is this something you edit out later?”

  Campbell, who was sweating profusely, ran his hand over his forehead and through his hair. “No, no, this is live. We don’t edit anything. Don’t even take commercial breaks.”

  “Well, you better start asking questions. I’m getting bored.”

  Rasputina unbuttoned her suit jacket and pulled out a knife. “But I could easily liven things up.” She threw the knife into the audience, hitting a young woman in the chest.

  The audience burst into screams.

  Rasputina snapped her hand at the cameraman as she stood and walked to him. “Are you getting that?” She grabbed him by the throat and forced the camera on the woman who stared quizzically at the knife in her chest, blood seeping from the wound. “Honestly, Steve, I think you might need to talk to your crew. They’re very, very lax.”

  She returned to her seat and plopped down. “Whoever was filming for the arena did a much better job than your team. Would’ve thought it had been professionally filmed. Been catching up on that the last few days. Great TV. Just great.” Rasputina looked at Terra. “Hey, you’d know who filmed that, wouldn’t you? How’d they do it?”

  Terra glared at Rasputina, weighing whether or not it was safer to answer the lich or ignore her questions. Although, baiting her might be the best decision. “Don’t you already know that?”

  Rasputina cackled as she pulled out another knife and pressed it to the side of Terra’s face. The lich drew it down slowly, splitting the skin, letting the blood flow free. “See, you could probably run this program better than… Hey, what’s your name?” She flung the knife at Steve, and it grazed his cheek.

  The host trembled and mumbled, “Steve. Steve Campbell.”

  Rasputina crossed her legs and picked at the decaying flesh on her face. “We should call this the Terra Show. She’s the one with all the charisma.”

  Terra tried again to pull free from the skeletons’ grip but to no avail. Where the hell was Anabelle? She couldn’t have left the studio already. There was no way she would watch this and not do anything.

  Rasputina was still picking her face. “Hm. Okay, so, I don’t want to tell anyone how to do their job, but I’m imagining our ratings are plummeting right now. And we have such good shit on at the moment. What do you think we should do to get the people’s blood pumping?”

  “What are you doing here?” Terra blurted.

  Rasputina looked taken aback by the question until she finally smiled, her mandibles visible beneath her pale flesh. “The host speaks! I’m here, oh, why am I here? To check up on you, maybe? Or just to get a whole scoop on your situation. I’m very, very interested in you, Terra. You and all your gal pals. You know, I would have killed for a group like that in my day.” She laughed and clapped her hand across her knee. “You get it? Killed?”

  When no one laughed, Rasputina pulled out another knife and casually threw it into the crowd. Then she pointed at the cameraman and said, “Make sure to get that!”

  Terra tried to block out the screaming of the person who had been struck. Rasputina wanted someone to play with her, and Campbell would never have been ready for this. It was up to her to figure out the rules of whatever game Rasputina wanted to play. “Okay, okay. Just…hold on…I haven’t held an interview before.”

  “You’re doing better than this jackass,” Rasputina said, jerking her thumb at Steve. Then she snapped her fingers and the audience started laughing. The laughter continued until people were struggling to breathe and the room was filled with the sound of wheezing and choking.

  “What brought you out of retirement?”

  Rasputina’s eyes lit up and the audience stopped laughing. “Retirement? Sweetheart, I was never retired. Sometimes, you gotta know when to take a break, though. Especially as an artist. Things get so—”

  “You consider yourself an artist?”

  A smile crept across Rasputina’s face. “Only in the most basic sense of the word. I create, thus I’m an artist. But I’m not trying to say anything, you know. No big message. I just…create!”

  “What exactly do you create? All I’ve seen you do is destroy.”

  “I’m so glad you asked.”

  Rasputina jumped up and climbed onto Steve’s desk. She pulled the knife from his hand, dragged him onto the floor in front of Terra, and straddled him. “You see, you look at this guy, and what do you see? A bunch of skin and eyes and hair, and all this boring shit. All of you look the same. Elves, humans, orcs, birds, dragons. Limbs and eyes and skin, and a silly little brain inside all of it. But if you go on and get a little creative…”

  She grabbed Steve’s ear and pressed her knife to it. “You take one little snip.” She sliced off his ear and held it in front of his face as he screamed. Blood poured onto the stage floor. “Now…now you add a little life into the scene.” Rasputina dipped her finger into the pooling blood, licked it clean, and shuddered. “Delicious life.”

  Terra wanted to look away, but she knew that wasn’t an option. Anabelle was working on something. The elf had to be. Until then, Terra had to hold it together. “So, you’re helping the Dark One to get people to pay attention to your art? No one looking before?”

  Rasputina scratched at the side of her face, tearing away a bit of skin with her nail. “What do you mean, no one was looking?”

  “I was curious. Myrddin told me that you’re supposed to be some unholy, unstoppable creature of death. But right now, it looks to me like you’re a pathetic failure, trying to grab everyone’s attention by being as sensational as possible. Killing people on live TV is a bad comic-book plot. I’ve even seen you eat flesh, but you’re a lich. I looked your kind up. Liches don’t eat flesh, which means you’re doing it for dramatic flair. Pretty, uh, what’s the word, yeah, needy, if you ask me.”

  Rasputina stood, her smile now gone. She snapped her fingers at the camera crew and they came running, pushing their cameras with them as she sauntered up to Terra, sat on her lap, and stared into her face.

  The smell was unbearable. Terra tried to move her face away from the stench of decay, but Rasputina grabbed her and held her fast. “You know, you’re a beautiful woman. You know that, don’t you?”

  The cameras were getting in closer as Rasputina pressed her nose against Terra’s. “I see things, Terra. Things that no one else wanted to see. And no one understood. None of them.”

  Rasputina reached down and pulled a knife from her jacket. She grabbed Terra’s face and held it still when she tried to move away. “I don’t care about what the Dark One is doing, but at least he has vision. He can see things. You? All of you are little pawns to that insufferable sack of shit, Myrddin? You will never see anything. Know anything. Not even if you try.”

  She grabbed one of the cameras and held it close to Terra’s face. “You know what all those people at home see? A human who defied all odds. Fought for her freedom against orcs and dragons and balrogs. But do you know what I see, Terra? When I look in your eyes?”

  Terra could hardly breathe with th
e smell of rotting flesh filling her lungs. She was doing everything she could to ignore Rasputina’s words.

  Rasputina’s tongue surged out of her mouth, long and thick as a python, and slathered Terra’s face as the lich moaned. “I see a little girl…scared…looking out at the world. So beautiful. But so afraid.” She pressed her knife to Terra’s face. “And blood. Screaming. I see your last breath as you choke on your blood. I can see your soul begging for me. Because you want me. You always have.”

  Her mouth opened, jaw cracking and stretching as her tongue flopped out of her mouth, onto Terra’s lap, wriggling like a possessed worm. A pool of rancid drool formed around it as the lich’s eyes burned the purest green.

  Terra stared into those eyes and heard wailing in the distance. It sounded like her own voice.

  Rasputina’s voice was a low growl, something ancient and yearning. “You’ve been waiting for me to cut. You. Up. Aching for me to eat you.”

  Terra couldn’t deny it.

  “Get your fucking hands off her!”

  Rasputina turned to look off-stage. Anabelle was radiating pure mana. She reached out and grabbed nothing, twisting it until its existence became obvious: a magical forcefield. Then she drove her other hand through it, tearing it apart.

  Anabelle ran through the forcefield as the DGA marines followed her, headed by Blackwell and Naota. She leapt through the air, tackling Rasputina and pulling her off Terra.

  The skeleton hands around Terra’s arms vanished, along with those holding the audience captive.

  Marines moved to secure the civilians, helping them to their feet and out of the studio.

  Rasputina appeared behind Steve. She kicked the host out of his chair and sat as Terra got to her feet and joined Anabelle. “Ugh, you! You’re the least fun. Soul’s all old and pruny, and you’re what elves consider to be young. Took you long enough. Well, guess it’s time to get down to business.”

  The lich snapped her fingers, and the air in the room went hot.

  Two Dark Gates opened in the middle of the audience seating area.

  Rasputina stood and strode to the gate. “Have a good time. I’ll see you when the little girl’s around. Thanks for the interview, Terra.”

  The lich disappeared in a flash of green light.

  Anabelle handed Terra her small black compact as orcs poured from the Dark Gate. “You ready for this?”

  Grok walked through the Dark Gate and drew a deep breath, releasing it slowly when she saw Anabelle.

  Terra glanced at the elf, who was breathing rapidly. “Are you?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Orcs continued to exit the portal as the marines moved the stragglers from the audience out of the studio. Blackwell and Naota managed to clear all the humans before the orcs had recovered from the transportation process.

  Grok watched Terra and Anabelle as her forces rallied. “Elf. What a pleasant surprise. I thought I was just exterminating humans today. You will be a pleasant addition.”

  Anabelle put her hands on her hips and shrugged. “Oh, so you feel like you’re ready to kill me today? Did I suddenly jump up on your list of priorities?”

  Grok spat as she stretched her right arm. “Hardly. But you don’t seem to have gotten any stronger. So much potential wasted—on all of you elves. You look down on us orcs as if we are beneath you, yet you allowed the power in your veins to go unused until it fades away. Worse than humans. At least, the one next to you is still getting stronger.”

  Anabelle looked at Terra, who frowned, indicating she had no idea what Grok was talking about. “Looks like we got us an old-school standoff.”

  At Anabelle’s side, Terra squeezed the black compact, which opened, sending the framework of Terra’s exo-suit across her arms, spine, and legs. “That’s the thing where we both just look at each other for half an hour until someone moves, right?”

  Naota and Blackwell moved to the frontline with Anabelle and Terra. Naota pulled his glasses down slightly. “Yep. I’ve seen this in anime. We gotta psyche them out. Lots of eye-contact. Maybe some whooshing noises.”

  Blackwell pinched the bridge of his nose as he shook his head. “This isn’t a fucking anime—” He was cut off by the sound effects Naota was emitting loudly.

  Grok laughed, her bright teeth flashing. “At least you’ll die in good company.”

  Anabelle stepped out from the frontline. “I read your file. Everything I could find on you. What happened to your tribe back home? How could you go on to work for the Dark One? We know you aren’t chipped.”

  Grok’s face betrayed no emotion. “Power begets power. What the Dark One did wasn’t personal. He was strong. My tribe was weak. What I do isn’t personal. I’m powerful. The humans you just herded away aren’t. But you…you are personal to me. The last Traveler. Master of the Roads. I’ve been waiting my whole life to put you in the ground.” She closed her eyes, and the earth shook as her mana created an aura around her. “There are many roads to power, elf. Let me show you mine.”

  Grok dashed at Anabelle. It took less than a second, her hand drawn back, ready to strike.

  Anabelle was ready. She already knew how fast Grok was. Grok might be stronger than her, but what had happened last time had been a fluke. She’d just been caught off-guard. Anabelle threw up a magical barrier, deflecting the attack, then fluxed her mana. She sent the shield outward, pushing Grok back.

  Grok wouldn’t let up. Which Anabelle had expected. That was the orc’s style, so Anabelle had to play it smart. She waved her hands, her fingers moving like streams as she flash-froze the air in front of her, firing dozens of razor-sharp icicles at Grok.

  The orc swiped the ice attack away.

  By that time, Anabelle had already slipped into the shadows. Grok’s shadow to be precise, following the Path of Silence.

  Grok whipped around, searching for the elf.

  Anabelle thrust her hand out of Grok’s shadow, grabbed her foot, and stabbed it with a long icicle. As the orc stumbled, Anabelle pulled her other foot from under her. Grok hit the ground, but Anabelle wasn’t done yet. She clenched her fist, and the icicle in Grok’s foot sent ice running through Grok’s veins.

  “Guess you didn’t see that coming, did you?”

  Grok scrambled to her feet and pulled the shard of ice from her foot. “Simple, weak elf-tricks. That is all.” She crushed the shard, letting the dust fall to the floor.

  The battle broke out around them, the marines shattering the spell of their personal fight. Blackwell fired first from his double pistols. The marines all wore exo-suits—Abby’s redesign. Sleek and functional. More than enough to keep up with the orcs.

  The orcs had taken cover behind the chairs and platforms where the audience had been seated. They laid down suppressing fire, forcing the marines to look for cover. Blackwell, Terra, and Naota tried to find somewhere to hide.

  Grok and Anabelle had ignored the plasma blasts flying past them and were focused on their own battle. They danced between the plasma fire that heated the air as they swung fists and kicked at each other.

  Terra, Blackwell, and Naota took cover behind Campbell’s desk. “Looks like they kinda have the advantage,” Blackwell said. “We’re gonna need to force them from cover. Any ideas?”

  Naota drew his dual tasers. They were attached to his exo-suit by retractable cables. “How about a little crazy-fun time?”

  “Goddamn it, English please!”

  Naota took off his glasses and looked into Blackwell’s eyes. “Senpai, please never forget me.” He flipped the desk over and ran out from cover, drawing the fire of the orcs.

  “Naota, you fucking idiot!”

  Naota threw one of his tasers, hitting an orc in the chest and electrocuting it before it could return to cover. Then he retracted his taser, pulling the orc with him, before throwing another taser at a nearby orc.

  Terra watched Naota moving. “He might be stupid, but he’s got guts.” She ran out from under the desk, dropped and rolled, and g
rabbed a plasma rifle from the ground. “Ugh, did no one bring an axe?” She fired at the orcs, who were distracted as they focused on Naota. Unlike Naota, though, she wasn’t moving laterally. Terra was heading for the wide, squat pillar where the orcs were hiding.

  She hit the column hard before anyone could process exactly how insane she was. Her fists plunged into the pillar, tearing into it with ease as adrenaline pumped through her system, sending her exo-suit into hyperdrive.

  Terra came out the other side of the pillar, grabbed an orc, and slammed him into the ground. She grappled another and shouted, “Got anything other than a gun on you?”

  The orc mumbled under his breath, “Uh…uh…uh.”

  Orcs nearby were quickly lining up their shots.

  Terra groaned in irritation, lifted the orc up, and threw him into the three closest shooters. Before they hit the ground, she was already on them. She grabbed the orc she had thrown moments ago and ripped away the small hatchet hanging from his side. Terra drove the blade into his back and turned her attention to the other three orcs.

  When she looked up, she was covered in blood. She flipped the hatchet and caught it. “Hm…light. I like that.”

  A shot of plasma hit Terra in the back, knocking her forward. As Terra fell, she twisted, throwing the axe and nailing an orc in the chest.

  The television studio was pure chaos. The enclosed space was overrun with orcs and marines fighting for their lives.

  Blackwell had joined Naota, and they fought back to back. Naota whipped his tasers around, shocking anything dumb enough to get close, while Blackwell carefully put orcs down with clean, precise headshots.

  Terra had glanced at them just as a troll exited the Dark Gate, falling onto Blackwell and Naota. She knew the troll was hers to handle. Still, as long as these two gates were open, this fight was a lost cause. “Hey, Anabelle!”

  Anabelle flew right in front of Terra, skidding across the ground before screaming with rage, her arms catching fire as Grok tackled her. “Guess you’re busy,” Terra muttered.