Apocalypse Assassins: The Complete Series

by D. Laine

  “Dylan?”

  Her head shook violently, flinging loose strands of hair across her forehead. “He’s gone. Robbie said—”

  “Gone?” Ewing appeared in the doorway behind her, shoving a gun into the waistband of his pants. He slung another one over his shoulder before he approached us. “What do you mean he’s gone?”

  “He’s blocking me, so I can’t be sure, but I think he went . . .” Her voice dropped to a whisper before she finished, “to them.”

  My stomach dropped. Ewing roared in frustration, but I couldn’t make out the details of the words he spewed. The sound of my heart breaking drowned everything else out.

  Dylan wouldn’t do that, would he? He had promised me he would do everything in his power to find another way. Had he lied? Had this been his plan all along?

  Damn him. Why hadn’t he at least said goodbye?

  No. That wasn’t acceptable either. I refused to let him go.

  I had to find him. I had to find a way to—

  Sadie shook me, pulling me back to the room with her, because she wasn’t done dropping bombs. “Calvin is dead. Dylan went to the hospital last night to talk to him and found him dead. Someone murdered him.”

  “Who would kill him?” Ewing asked.

  The answer came to me immediately. “Lucifer’s vessel.”

  Sadie nodded. “Dylan will take the fall for Calvin’s murder. He instructed Robbie to cast all the suspicion on him, but I doubt Anderson will let us off easily. We need to get out of here.”

  “What about Jake?” I squealed. “And Robbie?”

  “Jake’s unconscious,” Sadie reminded me. “And Robbie can’t move with her leg. They won’t be blamed for it. They’ll be okay. The three of us”—she turned to glance at Ewing—“I’m not so sure about. We could still be considered suspects.”

  “We’re also the only ones who can go after Dylan.” Ewing sighed heavily.

  Sadie nodded, eagerly searching my eyes. “We need to stop him.”

  Of course, I agreed. Even if that meant leaving Jake. He had Robbie now, and someone needed to stop Dylan from doing something crazy.

  The advantage of having nothing meant we had nothing to take with us. In less than a minute, we were ready to go and prepared for the uncertainties that awaited us. We each carried enough sharp steel and deadly metal for half a dozen people. It was appropriate to say we were dressed for the end of the world.

  Our first obstacle would be getting out of town without being seen. Once we left the safety of the laundromat, there would be no turning back. I stalked around the draped sheets still hanging from the ceiling, and couldn’t help but remember Dylan’s words to me the last time we were in here together. So much had changed since then, in such a short amount of time. What remained was the way I had felt that day. The way he made me feel.

  Those feelings weren’t going to go anywhere, and I knew without a doubt that I would do anything for him—or I would die trying.

  Once outside, we darted from street to street and slipped between buildings, in our rush toward the front gate. The sun had begun its dance with the horizon, creating a touch of ruddy orange in the sky. Unfortunately, it was just enough light to make it impossible to skip through unseen. The cluster of Duggies assembled steps inside the fence guaranteed that walking out of town the easy way wasn’t going to happen.

  Anderson spoke with them, gesturing wildly with his hands. I didn’t need to hear him to guess what he said. He knew about Calvin. He was coming for us.

  We didn’t have much time.

  “The fence behind the gas station,” Sadie suggested breathlessly.

  Ewing and I exchanged glances before nodding. It was the only option we had, and we all knew it.

  The three of us knew the fence well, from our many shifts on patrol. We knew the parts where it was at its weakest, the parts we watched with extra vigilance. We were also well aware of the fact that the fence had been erected to keep tags out, not to keep people in. The biggest flaw in its design was right behind the gas station. The roof of the building passed close enough to the top of the fence for us to jump.

  I eyed the overhang as we approached, and estimated it to be a three-foot gap. Jumpable, as long as we cleared the bundles of barbed wire twisted around the top. Our landing consisted of a bed of pointy rocks. It would hurt like hell, but it wouldn’t kill us. Exactly how we were going to get onto the roof, however, gave me pause.

  But not Ewing. He dropped to one knee beside the wall, cupped his hands in front of him, and gave Sadie a nod. “Come on. I’ll toss you up.”

  She ran at him without hesitation and he launched her into the air. Her hands caught the awning, and she swung her legs up and over the ledge effortlessly, making it look easy. I followed, surprising myself with my own strength and speed thanks to the mix of blood flowing through my veins.

  Getting Ewing onto the roof proved to be more difficult. The flash of movement I spotted on the street behind him made each jump he attempted vital. If the Duggies caught him, I feared we would all be caught, and Dylan would be left to find the trouble he was intent on finding.

  Ewing jumped for the ledge again, and missed. Someone else passed on the street, closer. This time, I was positive it had been a Duggie.

  “Grab my legs,” I instructed Sadie as I leaned over the ledge, reaching for Ewing. Pinning him with a cold, hard look, I said, “Duggies are coming. If you don’t make this jump, we’re going without you.”

  His eyes narrowed on me, and he jumped. His hand clasped mine. Sadie’s grip on my calves tightened as I pulled. Ewing inched higher. His other hand grabbed the awning. Sadie yanked me back onto the roof as he swung his leg over the edge.

  Climbing to his feet, Ewing leveled a heated gaze on me and jutted his chin at the fence behind me. “Go on,” he ordered. “You first.”

  Someone shouted in the distance. I didn’t waste any time waiting to hear who it was or what they said. I turned toward the fence, eyed the barbed wire in front of me . . . and I jumped.

  I was right.

  It hurt like hell.

  WE WALKED EAST, toward the sun. Hugging the many rock formations that littered the otherwise smooth landscape, we attempted to blend in. For at least two miles, I watched the horizon over my shoulder. Until the town, the fence, and everyone and everything inside of it disappeared. No one came after us.

  Each step I took closer to the mountains in the distance filled me with confidence. Each step brought me closer to Dylan. Or so I hoped.

  We assumed we followed the path he had taken. We assumed he would go to Hell’s Gate, where the Preppers stood watch. We assumed we would find him and Lucifer’s vessel, and end this madness once and for all, when in reality we didn’t know a damn thing.

  Hours into our walk, the rocky peaks grew shorter and the canyons shallower. By the time the thick tree line came into view, the red-toned rock that covered Utah had nearly disappeared. At some unmarked, invisible point, we left the state and the Duggies behind. Our destinies awaited us.

  The tree cover started out thin, and grew with each mile we covered until we were tramping through a thick undergrowth. Massive, thick trees towered over us, making it appear darker and later than it was. In reality, we had at least an hour before the sun set behind us. The landscape changed from flat and boring to uneven and tricky. Even the rocks in Colorado were different. They were big and gray and rolled if you stepped on them wrong.

  Yet I felt right at home, alongside Sadie and Ewing. Growing up in Montana, I knew my way across land like this. As for them . . .

  They were coming home.

  They knew exactly where we were going, and how to get there. Thank God, because I never would have found it. I never would have expected this.

  I stopped and stared at the scene in front of me now, trying to make sense of what I saw. Half a dozen black agency vehicles lined the side of the two-lane highway in the valley at the base of the hill on which we stood. I determined that they had
been the ones to transport the unsuspecting assassins to their deaths nearly a month ago. Large gaps between some, and tire marks in the thick layer of ash, indicated that several had been moved—likely the ones given to the Duggies.

  Dozens of Preppers scattered across the highway nestled between the trees. Some wandered aimlessly. Some huddled in front of small tents bordering a fire burning in the center of the road. Others walked the perimeter, weapons in hand. No one moved far from the looming tunnel chiseled into the steep mountainside.

  “This is the Preppers’ camp?” I questioned, glancing back and forth between Sadie and Ewing.

  One ignored me. The other shook her head slightly.

  “It is now,” Sadie murmured.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Our camp used to be up there.” She jabbed a thumb over my head, toward the peak that rose above the tunnel’s entrance. “They’ve moved. They’re guarding the gate now,” she added, so softly I barely heard her.

  “Wait a minute.” I waved a hand between us as if the action could help me to gain some clarity. “This is the gate? This . . . two-lane tunnel in the mountain?”

  Ewing glanced at me, brows pinched together. Sadie nodded like I was supposed to already know that.

  Obviously, I didn’t. In fact, I was surprised. And worried. I had expected an actual . . . gate. Like something with hinges and a latch that could be shut. Something I would expect to see farm animals pass through. Not this. Not a space big enough to allow dinosaurs to walk through it. I knew Lucifer himself was meant to come through, but what would he bring with him? What in the hell were we supposed to stop from coming through that gate?

  I DIDN’T REMEMBER FALLING asleep, but the stiffness in my back and fogginess in my head suggested that I had slept on the ground for a long time. I woke from the sound of . . . something. I couldn’t put my finger on it, and whatever it was didn’t make another noise. My eyes peeled open slowly to reveal a blanket of gray all around me. Fog and ash blended with the final minutes of night to create a perfectly icky backdrop.

  Everything hurt, other than maybe the parts too numb to feel pain. I grimaced as I stretched life back into my legs, then shivered when the bitter dawn air drifted inside the barrier of my coat.

  Glancing over my shoulder, I confirmed that both Ewing and Sadie were asleep. Ewing lay in the small sliver of space between Sadie and me, legs pulled up to his chest and arms wrapped around his knees. His eyes were closed, and mouth open with his signature snore. It was obvious they both had been out for a while.

  “Perfect.” I sighed, sitting up.

  No telling what we had missed while we slept. I couldn’t even remember making the decision to go to sleep, and I knew better than to do so without designating someone to keep watch. I knew neither Sadie or Ewing would have suggested something that stupid.

  I feared this had not been a simple lapse in judgement by any of us. I placed the blame solely on the adversary that had brought us here. Lucifer. No telling what he was up to now.

  My hands inched closer to my weapons as I glanced around at my surroundings. The fog made it impossible to see more than a few feet in any direction. Despite the visual handicap, I sensed . . . something. I didn’t know what, or where. I only knew that something was there, somewhere. My pulse quickened and I scarcely breathed, fearful of drawing unwanted attention to myself.

  I blindly reached out to shake Ewing’s shoulder, and ended up smacking his head instead. He grunted, but didn’t wake. His snore took on a louder, more nasal quality.

  “Dammit. Shut up.” I tried again. This time, I shifted to look at what I was doing. My hand froze on Ewing’s shoulder as my eyes narrowed on the spot behind his ear, where each of us had a cluster of purplish-red swirls—the mark of the tagged.

  Except Ewing’s looked more orange-brown. Faded. And . . . smeared?

  I lightly touched his mark. A stain marred my finger when I pulled my hand away. I brought it closer to my face and rubbed it against my thumb, testing the consistency. It wasn’t blood. I sniffed. It smelled like . . . ink.

  I stared at the stain for several seconds too long, awareness too slow to reach me. It took me another moment to realize it was suddenly quiet. My eyes snapped to Ewing’s face. I found him awake, quietly staring at me.

  Words froze in my throat. Perhaps because I didn’t want to consider the answers to my own questions. Voicing them would require me to admit the truth—that we had all been fooled.

  No words were needed when Ewing’s lips twisted into a sinister smile.

  He moved fast—as fast as one would expect Lucifer’s chosen vessel to move. His fist was nothing but a blur when it swung toward my face. His taunting cackle was the last thing I heard before the blackness swallowed me.

  26

  THEA

  It looked like night again, but I couldn’t be sure. Peeling my eyes open, I realized it could have been the middle of the afternoon and I would never know. Not with the thick veil of fog that surrounded us.

  Ewing, or possibly Lucifer in the flesh by now, paced the ground in front of me. My arms had been twisted behind me, and were bound to Sadie’s. Her back pressed against mine, and while I didn’t feel her move, I heard her breathing.

  Peering up at Ewing, I noted the dried blood on his knuckles and the wild look in his eyes. “What have you done?” I asked him.

  He stopped and turned to look down at me with a hint of surprise. “What have I done?” He laughed like a man already possessed, though I suspected he was still himself. For now. “I’ve done what I was created to do. My day has finally come, and I will not allow it to be ruined by a couple of tainted vessels. I did what I had to do.”

  “Congratulations,” I jeered. “Daddy will be so proud you managed to knock out two girls half your size.”

  “Daddy?” Ewing spat. “Master is not—my father was worthless! And my uncle?” Ewing blew out an irritated breath, and resumed his methodical pacing. “Master chose me over both of them. Don’t you have any idea how extraordinary that is? To be chosen by him?”

  “You’re something special, alright,” I muttered under my breath.

  “Of course, they both had to die,” Ewing continued, unfazed. “My father had done his duty. His reign had run its course, so he had to die. My uncle . . . he was going to tell everyone who I was. I had no choice but to kill him.”

  “You murdered Calvin.” I nodded, piecing it together.

  “He was a traitor!” Ewing exploded. “He sided with those . . . those . . . soldiers. That top secret organization got to him, and he let them inject him with Watcher blood. He came to me with it, and expected me to do the same . . .”

  “But you didn’t do it?” I guessed, finding another piece of the puzzle.

  Ewing had tricked everyone. But now, I saw the little signs that pointed to his guilt. His persistence to return here, to the Preppers—to the gate; his subtle comments that seemed to defend Lucifer; how he hadn’t developed the same strengths the rest of us had after our transition. It occurred to me now that he had likely faked the fever and two days of unconsciousness.

  Dylan had never trusted him. He had known something was off about Ewing. He might not have known exactly what or why, but he had sensed it. We all should have paid more attention, and then maybe we wouldn’t be in this predicament.

  Or maybe we would, because I had to admit, Ewing disguised his identity well. Looking at him now, I still couldn’t believe who he was.

  “Of course, I didn’t inject myself with that poison,” he told me. “I have a role—a purpose—and I am proud to follow it through.” He dropped to a knee in front of me. His eyes widened, taking on the wild look of a man not entirely in control of himself, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “He is coming.”

  My eyes scanned the perimeter, looking for movement. I knew Ewing meant Lucifer, but Dylan was also out there, somewhere. The fog was so thick, he could have been standing five feet away and I wouldn’t have known it.
r />   I knew he had to be close. This was the moment he had been waiting for. He wouldn’t miss it. I couldn’t do much to help him in my condition, but I could give him more time. I could stall Ewing from what he planned to do next. Because after that . . .

  I shook my head, refusing to accept that outcome, and turned my attention back to Ewing. “How long have you known you were Lucifer’s vessel?”

  “I have always known,” he answered smugly. “I was born third in line, then rose to second when my uncle gave up his birthright. My father was first for years. He did all the hard work, set everything into action, but Master grew impatient with him. The day the agency fell was the day he chose me as his new first.”

  “You ran with us,” I said, remembering that day. “But why? You could have stayed with the Preppers. You would have been here, where you needed to be, weeks ago. I don’t understand.”

  “I would have been, yes.” He stood and peered down at me with a smug smile. “But the Watchers would not have. I needed to keep the Watchers close.”

  He stalked away with an irritated scoff. I watched him warily, fearful of what he might do next. Everything about him, from his crazy eyes to his stiff walk, screamed instability. He had become unhinged, a man capable of anything.

  “Master gave me a message the night we stopped at that supermarket,” he told me over his shoulder. “I was to lure the Watchers here, to him. Of course, they are all an infuriatingly stubborn breed, and would not listen to simple reasoning. I have done everything Master asked of me, and look at where we are now!”

  I flinched from his outburst, and the spittle that rained down on me as he seethed. Behind me, Sadie stirred. Ewing didn’t notice. His rage focused on me, and me alone.

  I swallowed hard before finding words to say—any words. It didn’t matter. I simply needed to keep him talking. “You wanted to fight them? You want to prove you’re better than them? Is that it?”