Sepia Blue-Sisters: A Sepia Blue Thriller

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  Marks looked at Nathan, who stared back with defiance.

  “Your turn to bleed,” Nathan said. “I’m not giving them any more of my blood.”

  “Fine,” Marks said as he drew the knife across his hand and placed his palm on the door. “I think you are overreacting.”

  Marks wrapped a handkerchief around the wound as the light coming from inside the door became brighter. A whirring sound accompanied by motion shook the door gently. Bolts moved to the side with a loud clanging and the door unlocked. Marks pushed it aside and strode past the threshold. Another set of stairs lay behind the door and Marks descended them, avoiding the wards that were glowing brightly.

  “They aren’t supposed to be glowing,” Nathan whispered. “These wards are active. I told you my blood was a bad idea.”

  Marks stepped over the last ward, crossed the threshold and entered level C.

  “See? Nothing to worry about,” he said as he stepped farther into the level. “There’s nothing here. This place is empty, Nathan. Hurry along.”

  Nathan hesitated at the doorway. The lights in the corridor flickered to life. This level differed from the two previous in that each corridor gently curved away into the distance.

  “Stop walking,” Nathan said. “This level is different from the others. It’s not a maze but a labyrinth.”

  “Same difference,” Marks answered. “Both are designed to confuse and trap, aren’t they?”

  Nathan looked at Marks for a few seconds and cocked his head to the side before shaking it in disbelief.

  How is he an Overseer?

  “They are not the same,” Nathan said. “The plaques on this level don’t work the same way as the others. There is only one real path to the artifacts area.”

  “Can you read these plaques?” Marks asked, stepping close to Nathan. “Do we have to worry about your invisible spider guards on this level too?”

  “Sentinels, and yes, they are on every level,” Nathan said. “Especially this one.”

  “Then we should hurry, don’t you think?”

  Nathan nodded, read the closest plaque, and started to run. Marks, momentarily taken by surprise, started chuckling and chased after the old man.

  He followed Nathan down a corridor that curved to a dead end. Nathan stood looking at the blank wall in confusion.

  “I don’t understand,” he muttered to himself. “The plaque shows this to be the passage to the artifact area.”

  “Are you sure you read it correctly?” Marks asked. “You said they were different than the others.”

  “I read the plaque correctly, but it pointed us to this dead end,” Nathan answered. “There’s no way out.”

  “I would say that is an apt description of your situation,” a voice rasped from behind them. “This is a dead end…for you.”

  They turned to face the towering figure behind them. Standing almost as tall as the passage and nearly as wide was a man with six arms. Each hand held a weapon.

  “That is nowhere near a spider,” Marks said as he stepped back, away from the arms.

  “No, it’s something worse,” Nathan said. “That’s…that’s a sentinel.”

  TWENTY-NINE

  Sepia pushed his hand away, lowered the railing, and tried to swing her feet over the edge of the bed. She felt the room sway as it canted to one side. She grabbed the edge of the bed to keep herself from pitching forward and falling on her face. Anger fixed her features as she looked at Gan. Behind the anger, she felt the cold hard knot of fear. She was in the chamber again. She could hear its voice, as clear as if it stood before her.

  You are one of us.

  She clenched her fists against the voice in her head.

  “I must’ve misheard you, Gan,” Sepia said as she tried unsuccessfully to get out of bed again. “It sounded like someone stole my sword, my mother’s sword.”

  “Blueberry, calm down,” Gan said, keeping his voice even and pushing the railing back into place. “You are still recovering and we don’t know what that thing did to you. For all we know there could be side effects. Lethal ones.”

  “You want me to calm down?” she asked, her voice rising. “You want me to stay calm when my sword is now in the hands of the Unholy?”

  “Yes, you need to get yourself under control,” Gan said as he stared her down. Sepia looked at him, perplexed. She could see a brief flash of fear cross his eyes.

  “What’s wrong, Gan?” she asked. “Why am I sensing fear coming from you?”

  “It’s not fear, but concern. Your eye,” he said, pointing at her face. “You have to get your emotions under control.”

  She looked in the direction of the mirror, but she didn’t need to. Green light spilled from her eye, bathing the room in its glow.

  Damn. Just when I think it’s gone.

  She covered her eye with her hand, throwing the room back into semi-darkness.

  “My glasses, where are they?”

  Gan handed her a pair of darkened glasses.

  “What the hell are these?” she asked, holding up the pair Gan handed her. “These aren’t my glasses. They aren’t warded.”

  “Your glasses were reduced to dust in that chamber,” Gan said. “Better put those on for now, blueberry.”

  The room remained in subdued light as she covered her eyes.

  “Who took it, who took my sword?” she asked.

  “I don’t know, but I have some ideas.”

  “Then we need to track those ideas down and ask them about Perdition.”

  “It’s not that simple,” he said. “If the Unholy are involved, this has gotten complicated beyond belief.”

  “I don’t care how ‘complicated’ it is,” she said. “Make it simple or I will. Who was carrying it?”

  “I can’t say—in all the confusion—it happened too fast,” he said.

  “Gan, you are a horrible liar,” she said as she crossed her arms. “Tell me who was carrying my sword when it was taken.”

  “I am actually an excellent liar,” he replied. “Just not with you.”

  “The one in the handcuffs…What’s his name—Reed?”

  “You don’t know him so it doesn’t matter,” he answered quickly. “What does matter is that it was taken and we need to get it back.”

  “I agree,” she said. “We should focus on retrieval.”

  “Exactly,” Gan said, visibly relieved. “I knew you would understand.”

  “I also know you wouldn’t let just anyone carry it. You would use the best agent you have, right?”

  He nodded with a look of resignation.

  “Agent Reed!” she yelled. “Come in here, please.”

  “There’s no need to call him—” began Gan. “He couldn’t have stopped them anyway. It wasn’t his fault.”

  Reed stepped into the room.

  “Yes?” he asked. “Did you need something?”

  She looked at Gan, then back at Reed, who remained in the doorway.

  “Yes, yes I do,” she said. She removed her glasses and the room took on a greenish tint as she fixed him with a look. “I need you to explain how you let the Unholy take my sword.”

  Reed looked at Gan, who shook his head imperceptibly.

  “Gan, don’t,” she whispered as she looked at Reed.

  “It’s complicated,” Reed said after taking a deep breath. “I was delivering the sword, then the Unholy attacked.”

  “I need you to make it simple,” Sepia said. Her voice sliced through the room. “Make it so I understand.”

  “The Unholy were going to kill the decoy team,” Reed said. “They were headed right into a trap. I couldn’t let them just die.”

  Gan looked away, his face impassive. Sepia turned and looked at Gan. Anger transfixed her features.

  “You—you used a decoy team?” she asked. “Did they know?”

  “Yes, I used a decoy team and yes, they knew,” he said, “They knew the risks.”

  “They didn’t know Reed carried the real sword
,” she said. “Did they?”

  “No, it was too dangerous to give them that information,” Gan said. “I made that call and would make it again if I had to.”

  “I know,” said Sepia. “You killed them.”

  Gan looked at her without wavering, his face hard.

  “You don’t get to judge me, blueberry, you haven’t earned that right,” he said gently and looked away from her. “Not yet.”

  Sepia’s face flushed as she clenched the railing around the bed and crushed it. Reed looked down at the deformed railing and stepped back.

  “How did they die?” she asked Reed. “What killed them?”

  “Dreadwolves,” Reed said. “They were led into a trap. The Unholy were waiting for them.”

  “Who led the group?” Sepia asked as her eye grew brighter. “Who was leading the group?”

  Gan placed his hand on hers. “Sepia, you need to—” he started.

  She snatched her hand away from his and looked at him. She pulled off the sensor attached to her finger and pointed at him.

  “Do not tell me to calm down, just don’t,” she answered, each word clipped. “I need to get the hell out of here and get my sword back. Who was leading the group, Reed?”

  “I don’t know, it was a woman. That is all I remember before they filled me with arrows,” he said. “She was skilled and she gave them orders.”

  “And yet you survived,” Sepia answered. “I don’t see ink on you so you don’t have accelerated healing. How did you survive becoming a pin cushion?”

  “They healed me and left me there,” Reed said. “I know it looks bad.”

  “Bad? This is so beyond bad you’re going to wish you died with the decoy team,” she whispered to him. “The Unholy have my sword and you helped them. I need to go.”

  “You’re in no condition to go anywhere,” Gan said. “You need to recover. We don’t know what that thing did to you.”

  “Recover?” She looked at Reed as she spoke. “The only thing I need to recover is my sword,” she said. “Where? Where did this happen?”

  “It was en route to the drop off—” Reed started.

  “Did you know that my sword is dark?” We let the Unholy get a dark blade. I should’ve never given it up.”

  Reed shook his head but didn’t answer.

  “There was no way we could know they would go after it,” Gan said. “We still don’t know what they want it for.”

  “Is there any scenario, any situation, where you can imagine the Unholy with a dark sword will have a positive outcome?” Sepia asked.

  Cracks formed in the left lens as she spoke and it shattered moments later. Reed ducked in surprise as shards of plastic flew across the room. Green light spilled into the room as she tore off the sunglasses and crushed them in her hand, throwing the remains on the floor.

  “I think that’s enough for now,” a voice said from outside.

  A tall woman entered the room dressed in a white silk robe. Wards were inscribed all along its length. Her long blond hair cascaded behind her. She stepped into the room and stood by the doorway. A slight smile played across her lips and she looked at Gan with an expression that made no room for discussion.

  “I think she’s right,” Gan said. “Reed, let’s give her a moment to get some rest. Sepia, this is Mercedes, but we call her Mercy. She is the one who is taking care of you three.”

  Gan and Reed left the room as Mercy walked over to Sepia. She seemed to glide across the floor as she approached the bedside. She looked down at the mangled railing and raised an eyebrow.

  “Was that you?” Mercy asked.

  Sepia gave a brief nod.

  “Impressive,” she said. “It’s good to see your strength has returned. Perhaps it could be put to better use rather than destroying your bed.”

  “How soon can I leave?” Sepia asked. “I need to get out of here and get something.”

  “Yes, your sword, I heard,” Mercy said. “Your ink has helped you recover faster than the other two,”—she looked at the beds containing Calisto and Wake—“but they were not exposed to the flames like you were.”

  “Which means?”

  Mercy began removing sensors from Sepia’s arms and chest. She lowered the railings and placed a hand over Sepia’s left eye. Sepia remained still as the green light subsided. Her eye returned to normal.

  “What did you do?” Sepia said as she yawned. “How did you do that?”

  Her blinks became more pronounced as she put her head back in the pillow. Seconds later, she was asleep.

  *******

  Gan reentered the room. Mercy continued removing the sensors from Sepia’s body but reattached the one on her finger.

  “How is she?” Gan asked. “Can you tell what they did to her?”

  “Her vitals are normal, as long as she remains calm,” Mercy said without turning around. “Once she feels any strong emotion—anger, hatred, even love—whatever they touched starts to take over.”

  “So we don’t know what it is?” he asked.

  “I have never seen anyone survive the rift flames and not be changed into one of them,” Mercy said. “She is special. It is possible her ink saved her. I don’t know.”

  “She needs to get her sword back or this will get worse,” Gan said.

  “The change?” Mercy asked. “Is she bonded to it?”

  “Yes, but I didn’t want to use that unless there was no other choice,” he said. “It’s too risky.”

  “I would say that the choices available make the risks acceptable,” Mercy said. “Use the bond before it’s too late.”

  “I need Calisto for that,” Gan said. “If I miscalculate it will kill Sepia, or worse, transform her.”

  “I will tend to Calisto in the hopes of speeding her recovery,” Mercy said.

  “We need to contain her somehow,” Gan said. “See if we can figure out what they did.”

  “Contain her?” Mercy said. “Look at her energy signature, Ganriel, and tell me what you see.”

  Gan stepped close to Sepia, closed his eyes, and breathed deeply. He let his senses expand and looked at her sleeping form. A sharp exhalation escaped him as he stepped back.

  “How could she hold so much power?” he said in disbelief.

  “Do you believe you can ‘contain’ her now?” Mercy asked. “Without her sword you cannot stand against her.”

  “I don’t think anyone can stand against that,” he said. “We need to get that sword back now.”

  “When she regains consciousness we will not be able to stop her,” Mercy said. “You have run out of options and time. We have to use her bond.”

  THIRTY

  “Coms off,” Kala whispered. “Use burst transmissions if we get separated. Use the Delta designations. Delta One, on point checking in.”

  The Black Hunters adjusted their coms and checked in.

  “Delta Two, left flank,”

  Delta Three, right flank”

  Delta Four, rear guard.”

  “Don’t break rank and don’t venture off alone,” Kala said. “This place will kill you so fast you’ll be dead before your body hits the ground. I kid you not. Eyes wide—ears sharp, on my six.”

  The men around him nodded. They had been reduced to four men. His Black Hunters had taken heavy losses earlier at the hands of the Sisters. They had exceeded their reputation as fearsome assassins. The Hunter was nowhere to be found in the compound. He had thought about sanitizing the remaining Sisters when the girl spoke up. She convinced him she knew where the Hunter was. After that, it was a matter of searching her quarters, obtaining some of the Hunters’ DNA and then calibrating the tracker. It picked up the Hunter’s energy signature and had led them to the park. Taking a hostage was always a good policy. Especially one who shared quarters with the target. He would end her once they found the one they sought.

  I hate this place.

  “Two, do you have that reading?” Kala said as he pushed Jas with the point of his rifle.


  Jas stumbled forward and caught herself before falling.

  “We have to get to this structure,” Two said as he pointed to the display on his tablet where a small red dot pulsed. “It looks like a castle, just smaller. It’s not much farther.”

  They stopped for a moment as Kala looked at the tablet.

  “Huddle up,” he said, drawing them in a close circle. “This structure is warded against the Unholy. This means we should be safer inside. Our target is in there, according to our readings.”

  He pointed to the Keep’s location on the map.

  “Why are we dragging this little bitch with us?” Three asked. “Dead weight is all she is.”

  “When the Unholy come for us, and they will,” Kala said, “who should I throw to them? Her or you?”

  Three remained silent. “Just doesn’t seem prudent, sir,” Two said.

  “I don’t care what it seems,” Kala said. “She comes with us until I don’t think she is important. Something tells me the Hunter will want to keep her alive.”

  “A decoy,” Two said with a smile. “Damn, that’s cold, sir.”

  “The coldest,” Kala said, returning the smile. “Phalanx up. The structure should be just on the other side of that lawn.”

  They moved in a wedge formation, keeping Jas in the center to prevent her from running off into the park. Howls filled the night as they traveled.

  “What the hell is that?” Three said as he looked around.

  “Keep it frosty,” Four said, checking the perimeter. “Those are Dreadwolves. Poisonous bites—run in packs like real wolves, only bigger, faster, and meaner.”

  “I heard some of them could speak,” Three whispered. “Can wolves talk…like us?”

  “I don’t know, Three,” Four whispered back. “Maybe if you shut up I could listen and find out?”

  “Yeah, maybe they will call your name,” Two said and laughed. “Wait, I heard one, says you look delicious!”

  “Quiet,” Kala said. “Switch to the Ward Ocs. I’ve killed enough of them to make them extinct, but they keep coming back. Eyes up.”