by S T Branton
This Marked is a criminal, Victoria. He has shown neither aspiration nor inclination for anything nobler, and as such, he belongs in the realm from which he consistently seeks to free himself.
“He says you’re a criminal, and you refuse to stay in Asphodel.”
Brax laughed. “Why would I stay there? It’s a cesspool of violence and death. It’s nothing but an interminable black void, and I had nothing to do except kill the sorry sons of bitches who had the misfortune of being thrown in there with me. And it wasn’t like I did that for fun. They’re all trying to kill you first. Most of the time, it’s stiflingly hot, but every now and then, it’ll get so cold you can’t feel your own damn face. Don’t ask me why that happens. I think it has something to do with being in fucked-up murder-purgatory.”
Where you belong, Marcus added. I chose not to pass it on this time.
All of a sudden, Brax stopped talking. His obsidian eyes narrowed, and he put out an arm to halt my progress. “Wait.” He flattened against the wall. “Hide.”
I bit my tongue to keep myself from accidentally blowing our cover and followed suit. The wall behind me was rough, scratching at the back of my jacket. I closed my eyes to listen—I hadn’t been able to make out whatever Brax had seen with his hypersensitive demon eyes. But after a moment, I heard noise drifting in our direction. Voices soon crystalized out of the jumble.
“What’re we still doin’ here?” a whiny male voice asked. “We ain’t seen nothin’ for hours.”
“So what?” a gruff voice replied. “If something comes by and we miss it, and then it goes on to make trouble, we’ll be dead meat. Literally!”
“I been thinkin’ about that, and I got a theory. You ready for this shit?”
“Ah, cripes, here we go,” the gruff voice said.
“No, hear me out. Hear me out. Maybe she can’t kill us, now that we’re, you know…” The whiny voice paused uncertainly. “Ain’t we reanimated, or whatever you call it? I heard we can’t die now, is what I’m sayin’.”
“You’re full of piss and beans if you don’t think that dame can kill us again. Jeez, it’s like you didn’t even see her!” The guy let out a long-suffering sigh. “Still, it’s better to be on her side, no question. I don’t envy any sad sack who thinks they can stand against whatever she’s got going on.”
“True.”
At first, their voices drew alarmingly near to us, but then they hooked a sharp left and strolled down a different path. Brax waited until their voices had faded away completely before peeling himself off the wall.
“Makes me wonder if Tahn knows her henchmen are morons,” he muttered. “Those are the kinds of assholes who don’t last an hour in Asphodel. If your head’s that empty, it gets to you real quick.”
“Well, let’s hope the rest of her goons are just as useless,” I said.
Brax paused at the corner and peered down the street. The vamp patrol was long gone, and no one else came to take their place. Abandoned cars still littered the roadway, their lights dead and their doors hanging open. He kept walking and talking. “I’ve seen people go insane in a matter of hours from hunger and sensory deprivation. After that, the ones who survive become killing machines. I used to wonder if they were psychotic, or just trying to make more space.”
It matters not. Asphodel is the realm of the damned, of those destined to be forgotten. It is best not to concern yourself too much with it, Victoria. Assuming this Marked even tells the truth.
“I don’t know.” I scratched my head. “He’s got no reason to lie about it, and it sounds pretty freaking brutal.” Total condemnation seemed like an extreme response, especially since Brax had agreed to help.
“What’s he saying?” Brax asked dryly. “That I deserve the punishment I get because I dared to flout Kronin’s sacred rules? That Asphodel is the product of a just society because Carcerum was a flawless utopia? That I have only myself to blame? That’s all elitist bullshit. I don’t know how you can stand to listen to him all the time.”
A fool’s slander cannot affect me.
“Have you been there?” I asked Marcus.
Brax scoffed. “Of course he hasn’t. No one just goes to Asphodel. It’s like I said: if you’re in, you’re shit out of luck.”
“How do you keep getting out, then?”
That is a question to which I would also very much like to know the answer. Abraxzael’s recurrent freedom has been a problem since the days of my predecessor. We would do well to find a solution once and for all.
“Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t tell you in front of him, but suffice it to say, it’s no small feat. Takes a lot of smarts, a lot of blood, and a lot of guts.” Brax gestured at the medallion. “Look, I’m not saying he doesn’t know anything. You’re still alive and kicking, aren’t you? But he’s too much like the old man before him. And let me tell you, that guy was a royal prick.”
Take it back, demon. The words had an edge of cold steel that sent a weird shiver down the back of my neck. I got the impression that if he’d been able to, Marcus might have sprung out of the medallion right then and there just to sock Brax in the face.
I conveyed this feeling to Brax through two short words. “He’s pissed.”
“Yeah. If he really idolized the guy, I can’t blame him for being mad, but it’s true. We’re not talking about a paragon of virtue here. In a lot of ways, he wasn’t any better than Rocca.”
Though Marcus said nothing, his seething resentment was palpable. I had ample time to soak it in as we ducked behind an open gate to hide from another patrol. These guys weren’t dopily nonthreatening like the others. Their squad was much larger, and they stood ramrod straight, vampire eyes piercing the slowly waning night.
We slipped by as soon as they passed out of earshot, and we didn’t slow down until the plaza spread out in front of us, the NBC spire towering at the far end. On a normal night, it would’ve been lit up like an austere, urban Christmas tree, but as it was, only a few of the light banks still worked. The resulting effect made me think of theme park horror, all stark contrast and unnerving emptiness.
“I never thought I’d say this, but this is more eerie than 9/11. At least then, you could see the city rallying. We banded together to pick each other up. Now everyone’s just… gone.”
We went through this at the safe house, Victoria. Escape was likely difficult but not impossible. There are many places in a city this size for refugees to hide, too many for the gods to check them all. We must hold out hope that these survivors can endure until they are eventually rescued.
“What do you mean by nine-eleven?” Brax asked.
It took me a second to remember he was technically an extraterrestrial and, therefore, wouldn’t know. “There was a terrorist attack in September, years ago. The whole city was rocked.” I described that morning in the same vivid detail with which I still remembered it, and then I was struck by a sobering thought. “That was the deadliest attack in the history of the country… until now.”
Bodies still seemed few and far between, but I suspected either that was an illusion on my part, or they were being carted off for other evil purposes.
“I see.” Brax slipped his glasses back on to protect against the lights that were still shining in the plaza. A few of them flickered crazily, further unbalancing the atmosphere. “Someday, that mark will fade from the annals of your history, and generations will never know it even happened.”
“That’s a fucked-up thing to say, man.” A sour note crept into my voice. I didn’t try to hide it.
“The truth is harsh,” he said simply.
He is a foul creature to belittle the harrowing trials of humanity.
“Maybe.” I frowned. “He’s still allied with us.”
That, I must concede. For now.
At Forty-Ninth Street, half a block from where the Rockefeller Christmas tree would have stood in a couple months, I paused and tapped Brax on the shoulder. “Hey, check that out.”
He tur
ned to see the famous golden approximation of Prometheus holding sway in its usual spot. By some miracle, it remained undefaced by Beleza and his cronies. “I don’t get it,” Brax muttered.
“It’s supposed to be Prometheus.” He stared at me blankly. “The guy who brought down fire? I thought you’d know this.”
Realization dawned across his features. He snorted. “That’s not what he looked like. Not even close.”
“Oh yeah?” I smirked, directing him farther toward the rising spires of St. Patrick’s Cathedral. “What about Atlas? There’s a statue down there of him holding up the world. We humans are pretty proud of that one, too.”
“Isn’t everyone proud of their own inventions?” Brax shook his head and resumed walking in the direction of the NBC building. “Atlas is just a mortal thing.”
“Huh.” I matched his pace. “It’s friggin’ weird to hear this stuff stated as fact.” It would be even weirder to have to face down a god I supposedly knew.
Maybe too weird. I decided not to think about it.
“Your ideas of other realms are eternally baffling,” Brax added. “I have heard some of your mythology. What the hell were you fools thinking? None of it makes any sense.”
“Sorry we’re not a race of killjoys,” I said. “What’s the worst thing you heard? I’d love to know.”
He never answered. His feet stopped entirely as we continued to approach the entrance. “Is there a plan B?” he asked, his voice deadpan.
“What?” First, I was surprised and a little offended. Then I followed his gaze, and my heart sank. The place was packed with security, and the more I looked, the more there were. They’d been hidden at a distance, tucked into the plaza’s darkest corners, stuffed into the building itself. We’d finally gotten close enough that it seemed preposterous we could’ve missed them at all. Had they been cloaked? Maybe it was one of Tahn’s tricks.
The legions of vampire cops all had their creepy, unblinking eyes trained on us, and yet, not a single one attacked. I turned in a quarter circle to see if it was possible to gauge their numbers, but no dice. I saw more than we could handle. That was all that mattered.
“What do we do?” I whispered.
To engage in a direct assault would be most unwise. Potentially a fatal mistake. There must be another way.
“I’m not tossing myself into that mess.” Brax pulled me by the arm around the corner of a building, presumably to regroup. I kept my ears open for sounds of impending doom. The plaza remained silent as the grave. A few feet ahead of us, a huge wall of TVs was still on in a storefront window. The majority of the displays were ninety percent snow, but one in the middle showed a familiar face in front of a white news van.
“Is he an agent of the gods?” Brax mused. “If so, we should find him and kill him as soon as we can. They cannot be allowed to indoctrinate the masses.”
“I agree with… some of that,” I said, pointing out the van. “Specifically, the part about finding him ASAP. He’s a news guy who’s gone rogue. The station’s not nearly as big as NBC, but we’ll have to make do.” The background of the current shot was extremely nondescript, a palette of concrete.
“This might take a while.” Brax let out his breath. “Let’s hope the gods don’t have anything imminent up their sleeves.”
I gasped as an idea struck me right between the eyes. The duffel bag I’d been carrying from the safehouse slapped onto the sidewalk. I pulled it open and rifled through the contents. “Wait a sec. I might—yes!” The sight of the satellite phone filled me with euphoria. “This is amazing. I have just the person to help, and now I can actually reach her!”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Hold on,” Namiko said. “Let me try to get this straight. You’re in New York City, there’s no one else there except a demon from California, Manhattan’s being destroyed, and all the police are vampires.” She made an overwhelmed little squeak. “What the hell, Vic?! I offered to come to New York City, but no! ‘I’ve got it covered on my own,’ you said. ‘It’ll be fine,’ you said. None of this sounds fine!”
“It all happened really freakin’ fast, okay? And I couldn’t spend my one phone call on you.”
“What?!” She was almost shouting into the phone now, the loudest I’d ever heard her talk. “You were in jail?!”
“No time to talk about it. I’ll tell you later.” Shifting the phone to my other ear, I zipped up the bag. “Can you help me track a news van? I need to broadcast a warning to anyone who can hear it, and this van is the only way.”
“This is totally insane.” Namiko took a deep breath. “Yes. Yes, I can do that. I’d even say it’s easy if the city is deserted. That van and your phone will be the only things with a tracking signal for miles.”
“You’re the best, Namiko.” I slung the bag up over my shoulder and straightened, giving Brax a thumbs-up. “Give me a second to find us some transportation in case we need it.”
“A second is all it’s going to take.” Keys tapped behind her voice, punctuated by the clicking of a mouse. “All I need to do is pull up a satellite map, and—”
“Hot damn, you are useful.” I jogged down the street, searching for a car that would suit our purposes. If the current apocalyptic scenario had an upside, it was that there was no shortage of vehicles to choose from.
“It’s pretty rad, right?” she replied. “This is the tech capital of the country, and I’ve got a rich dad. Had to find something appropriate to do with my time.”
“Thank goodness for everything you just said.” I stopped next to an old Toyota Camry and took the phone away from my mouth so I could call to Brax. “Get in, loser. We’re going to find that van.”
He took one look at my choice and laughed. “No.” He pointed at a Hummer beached on the sidewalk like a silver, gas-guzzling whale. “That one.”
For an abhorrent criminal of the lowest possible caste, his taste in steel chariots is remarkably refined.
“You’re both massive pains in my ass,” I griped as I jumped over the curb. The driver’s side door was unlocked, though it took me a minute to mountain-climb my way into the seat. I’d been crossing my fingers that this was one of the newer, keyless, push-to-start models, but no such luck—and of course, the owner was conscientious enough to take the keys with them.
“Almost got it,” Namiko announced. “Data is downloading as we speak.”
“Here. Catch.” I tossed the phone to Brax. “Do whatever she says, all right? She’s getting us directions.”
He looked at the phone, genuinely bewildered. “Yes.”
“Good.” I bent down and got to work on the wiring with a screwdriver from the duffel bag. Brax climbed in on the passenger’s side. The job was slightly more complicated than I was used to—there was a reason I’d gone for the shitty old Camry—but the basic principle was the same. After a few minutes of exasperation, I heard the supremely satisfying rumble of the engine coming to life. “There we go, finally.”
“Where’d you learn that?” Brax asked. “It looks like something you’re not supposed to do.”
“It is,” I said. “I’ve watched a lot of YouTube in my spare time. You can learn anything with a computer and an internet connection.”
I grabbed the phone back from Brax and held it to my ear.
“Got it!” Namiko declared triumphantly. “You ready? Good news: it’s close.”
I pulled the seat up a little bit, gripped the wheel in my free hand, and put the behemoth into drive. “Hit me.”
“Okay, you’re gonna want to head toward Times Square. I’m assuming you know where that is, relative to where you are.”
“That’s it?” I was kind of annoyed. I’d gone through all the hassle of starting up this Hummer, and I’d only get to drive it for half a mile. “We could have just walked.”
“It’s a little farther than that, heading to the river.” She paused. “Looks like the van must be parked at the moment. Maybe you can catch them right there if you hurry.”
<
br /> I sighed and stepped on the gas, steering the truck back onto the street. We barreled toward the corner, headlights flooding the road—only to screech to a rubber-burning stop when I realized this side of the block had witnessed a nasty accident. Wrecked cars clogged the intersection, which was also littered with bits of metal and safety glass. The vehicles on the ends were shoved all the way over both curbs. There was no way this hog could fit through.
This type of occurrence is very rare with horses.
“This route’s blocked.” I swung the wheel to the right. “We’re going the long way. Yell if the van starts moving.”
“They’re still there.” Namiko clicked a few times. “I can’t get details on traffic or obstructions or anything like that. There’s probably no one feeding that information through.”
“Don’t worry about it.” The Hummer roared along. We blazed through stuck or dead traffic lights, veered around turns without pissing anyone off, and didn’t get bogged down in a sea of yellow cabs. Getting to cruise the empty streets of New York was more than once in a lifetime—it was probably once in an entire universe.
The next obstacle we encountered was a berm of debris from a crushed building that had settled across the road. I slowed long enough to observe the height and depth of the obstruction and made a snap decision. My foot switched from brake to accelerator. “Could a horse do this?”
No. Horses have too much good sense.
“What are you doing?” Brax demanded. His eyes were wide. “Slow down!”
“It’s all good,” I told him. “This is what these things were made for.” In a manner of speaking anyway. The front tires spun when they hit the edge of the berm, but the heavy duty treads found purchase soon enough, and then we were snaking our way up and over. The ride was not without turbulence. A few times, the heavy truck pitched at what felt like a dangerous angle. Debris slid audibly from under the tires with every inch. I glanced at Brax. “See? Not so bad.”
He stared forward grimly, one hand locked on the overhead grip. His head bounced close to the roof of the cab, and his other arm braced himself against the downward angle of our trajectory. I chuckled to see him looking so concerned about a little makeshift off-roading. Then the truck touched down on the other side, and he visibly relaxed.
