by Brian Fuller
The Vexus of the Nazi extermination camps was so powerful he thought he had finally absorbed enough to claim the gift the serpent wished to bestow upon him. One more ritual, one more innocent sacrifice, and the power to control the Dreads was his. Then he would lay his foundation of power. Then he would have his riches, his women, his pleasures. And when he at last had his fill of life, when the cup of his desire was full, he would give the serpent what it wanted: a place in the world of flesh.
An otherworldly scream yanked Helo from the vision, a scream of frustration over a treasured pleasure briefly held and then ripped away. A child with the first taste of candy on its lips suddenly bereft of its treat. It echoed and faded, leaving only the dripping of the rain and the rolling of thunder.
Devon Qyn—the ancient Cain—fell like someone had yanked every bone from his body. Helo crumbled with him, the sanctified rebar clanging to the floor, light shining beneath the shallow water. The expelled, ghastly Vexus flooded the ship, clinging to the water like a noxious, polluted vapor. King seemed to be gone. Helo hoped it was true. While Cain was stunned, he still needed to be dealt with, preferably before he roused himself.
But Helo could no longer move. Not even Dahlia’s sloshing was able to rouse him to any effort. Maybe she would finish him. He no longer heard gunfire above them. If the talisman had forced the Dreads above decks, perhaps they had simply fled when Cain no longer had power over them. The tumultuous waves and water wouldn’t hurt them.
Dahlia knelt in the water and bent down to peer into his face. At first Helo thought it a trick of the uneven lighting in the hold complicated by the Vexus that hovered everywhere. He blinked to clear the water from his eyes and then blinked again to be sure.
Her red aura was gone. She was a Blank.
She grabbed him under the arms to lift him, but her grip slipped, and she fell next to him. “Of all the times I could have used my Strength, and now I no longer have it,” she lamented with a wistful grin. Her hair floated in the water around her head, eyes clear and innocent. She was like the girl he’d seen plucking the fig from the tree.
“So that really is Cain,” Helo said. He could hardly believe it.
“It is,” she confirmed. “My brother.”
“So what was the point of all this?”
“It was the fulfilling of the ancient contract. The serpent gave him immortality. Gave him money, control, power. Cain gave him a body. You have the talisman?”
“Yes.”
“Then I am truly free.”
An explosion rocked the rear of the cargo hold behind Helo and Dahlia, shrapnel falling all around them in a shower of deadly metal. The kick and vibration on the floor rattled Helo’s teeth. Metal shards dropped into the water all around them, adding to the already littered floor. The Ash Angels were sinking the ship. Water gurgled behind them, rising from a hole he couldn’t turn to see.
“You picked a bad time to become an Ash Angel,” Helo said, words mangled by the water seeping into his mouth.
Dahlia scooted over to him and pulled him to a sitting position, wrapping her arms around his exposed midsection to keep him upright. The first wave of water from the breached hull sloshed against their backs with a gentle push, Cain’s limp body rocked by the movement.
“Run, Dahlia,” Helo said. “You can make the utility stairs.”
“No,” she said. “Ash Angels don’t leave each other behind, I’m sure.”
Helo laughed bitterly. “If we get out of this, remind me to tell you about Rule of Engagement 44-2. Go, Dahlia. You are too valuable to die down here.”
Two figures streaked down from the top of the hold, their auras igniting as they used Toughness to survive the descent unharmed. They were dressed as coast-guard officers, but as soon as Helo saw the sword, he knew who it was: Dolorem. Magdelene was at his side, short red hair plastered to her head, BBR gripped in both hands. She cast her gaze around the hold, then circled the pool while Dolorem jogged toward them.
The water had risen to Helo’s waist.
“Help me!” Dahlia begged of Dolorem, who regarded her with a questioning expression.
“Is she on our side now?” he asked.
Helo nodded.
“Incredible. Welcome aboard,” he congratulated her. “Well, not aboard this thing.”
Dolorem reached out and healed Helo, his chest and back knitting together beneath the charred pieces of his shredded shirt. He stood and helped Dahlia up.
“Her leg’s bad,” Helo said.
Dolorem healed her, the dislocated lump snapping back into place.
“That’s about it for my Virtus,” Dolorem said. “It’s been a busy night.”
“Where’s Cassie?” Magdelene called, staring into the pool at the sodden clothes, her voice cracking.
She knew. She just needed to hear it from someone else. “She’s gone,” Helo said. “She and Goldbow.”
The former Archus turned away. “Dammit, Cassie,” she said softly. “Couldn’t you do what you were told just once?”
“We’ve got to move,” Helo said, lump in his throat. He missed her already. The water was up to his knees, and the ship felt like it was tilting backward. “The stairs are ahead of us on the far side. Is there anyone out there to pull us out?”
Dolorem sloshed forward. “We’ve got a helicopter, but it took a few hits coming in. The Dreads seem to be jumping ship, but there’s still a Sheid out there. Maggie!”
She wiped her eyes and turned toward him. “What?”
“Should we call in the helicopter?”
“Do it. There’s one thing that needs taking care of.” Magdelene walked forcefully over to where Cain floated facedown in the water. She whipped a knife out of her boot and with a grunt pulled the lifeless body onto its back. “Devon Qyn needs to burn for this.”
She raised her hand and with a tormented cry rammed the knife into his exposed belly, cutting deep. Resheathing the knife, she plunged her hand into his torso, fumbling for the heart.
Helo felt it before he saw it.
Magdelene didn’t see it at all. The Sheid dropped down beside her and backhanded her so hard she flew toward the rear of the hold where the water was deeper, then landed on her back, water spraying everywhere as she went under.
Was the blow devastating enough to kill her? Helo scanned the water, unable to locate her. The length of sanctified rebar glowed beneath the water ten feet away.
“I’m going for the rebar,” Helo said, sloshing forward in the water.
“Hurry,” Dolorem said, holding his sword up.
A wicked battle ax formed in the Sheid’s hands. Then the Sheid torched them. Helo braced himself for the emotional war, but the battle never came. The poison memories. The crippling despair. The crushing inadequacy. Gone. He turned to find Dahlia facedown in the murky water. Dolorem, still standing, shook his head to clear it.
Helo grabbed the rebar as the Sheid turned its dead gaze upon the Ash Angels.
“You attack, you die,” Helo threatened, brandishing the rebar and coming to Dolorem’s side. The Sheid stood still.
Bitterly, Helo realized that was all it had to do. They were in no condition to attack the Sheid outright. Dahlia and Magdelene were drowning. In a few more minutes, the water would cover his heart and make him ripe for the killing. If they didn’t make the stairs soon, the ship would take them all to the bottom, and Devon and the Sheid would swim out.
He walked backward toward Dahlia, pulling Dolorem with him, trying to move them in the direction of the stairs where the water was shallower.
“I’ll kill you!” Helo yelled. The Sheid watched, face stoic. Helo reached Dahlia. Her hair floated around her like a dark fan.
“Dolorem!” Helo yelled, trying to cut through the fog in his friend’s mind. “Get her out of the water!”
The ship groaned and tilted farther backward, utility lights falling and sputtering out in the water. Lightning flashed, turning everything a colorless white for a moment. The water kept
rising. The Sheid just watched. Dolorem had pulled Dahlia from the water, but she flopped about, insensate.
Keeping an eye on Cain and the Sheid, Helo grabbed her wrist and used Inspire, his aura pulsing into her. “You can be forgiven,” he said, pushing that thought into her tortured mind. He could only imagine what Spirit Shock would do to someone who had been a Dread. But his Inspiration seemed to work. Her eyes fluttered open, and she gripped Dolorem’s supporting arm like it was a life preserver. He pulled her up.
“Get to the stairs,” Helo ordered.
“I’ll get Magdelene,” Dahlia said, swimming away and gasping at the cold as her body’s nerves came alive in the water.
“I’ll help,” Dolorem said, voice unsteady.
Gripping its wicked blade in one hand, its other locked around Devon’s arm to keep him from floating off, the Sheid watched as they swam away.
Time to kill a Sheid.
Helo waded forward, gripping the rebar like a sword. Just a few more inches and the water would rise above his heart. The Sheid watched his approach and Desecrated the floor of the ship, ghoulish red aura illuminating the water beneath Helo’s feet.
The cold! Helo gritted his teeth and fought the shaking in his knees. He pressed on. One foot in front of the other. The water rose an inch higher on his chest, but the rebar’s holy light dispelled the swirling dark Vexus that filled the hold. It was a beacon. Fifteen more feet and he would strike.
The Sheid’s ax disappeared. Pulling Cain up in both arms, it looked to the opening above and jumped, a column of water following it up until it disappeared over the side. Helo lowered the rebar and backed toward shallower water. Without the utility lights, the nebulous hold had turned into a gloomy grave. Only the glowing rebar provided a steady light.
“I’ve got her!” Dahlia yelled.
Helo worked his way toward the voice, the chill water rising above his heart as he waded in up to his neck. His limbs grew numb as he pressed forward, Dahlia’s and Dolorem’s frantic splashing guiding him to her. Magdelene was conscious, but her back was bent at an unnatural angle. Dahlia’s face paled.
Keeping the rebar in his left hand, Helo reached out and grabbed Magdelene by the right arm, Dahlia taking the left, and Dolorem supporting her from behind. The hull was now sloped at nearly thirty-degrees and continued to tilt, the water flowing in faster.
“It’s going down,” Dahlia said.
As they passed under the open hold, Helo heard the welcome sound of helicopter blades above decks. Dolorem’s earpiece crackled, and his eyes finally popped fully alert.
“We’re coming up,” Dolorem yelled. “Wait for us.”
Weary, they powered for the stairs.
Helo’s limbs didn’t want to work. He yelled. He grunted. He pulled on Magdelene. Dahlia floundered but fought on. Dolorem seemed to gain more awareness with each step. Twenty feet. Ten feet.
The yellow stairs. After pushing Magdelene up onto the stairs, he reached out and pulled himself up, his strength and the feeling in his limbs returning as he extricated himself from the water. He pulled Dahlia out first, using his Strength. Her face regained its sanguine color. Dolorem came next.
“Take the rebar and get up there,” Helo ordered. “Wave it around so they can see us. I can carry Magdelene up.”
Dahlia and Dolorem ascended the stairs, their footing tricky as the ship continued to slant. Lightning cut the sky again. The Sheid was still screwing with the weather. Helo reached down and grabbed the front of Magdelene’s flight suit and heaved her up and over his shoulder. With an unsure grip on the rail, he fought to halfway up, walking on the front edge of the stairs. He slipped hard and banged Magdelene’s head and his arm against the wall.
“Just leave me, Helo, and get off this wreck,” Magdelene said, voice devoid of life.
He pushed forward and upward. “No more dead Ash Angels today.”
They reached the ladder room, the ship’s precarious angle forcing Helo to put one foot on the tilted back wall and the other on the floor. The hatch was open. Dahlia and Dolorem had made it. Helo didn’t know if he would. With the angle of the sinking ship, the ladder hung at an angle over the darkness below, like a cliff overhang. He couldn’t climb it holding Magdelene. Even without her it would be tricky to get through the hatch. There was only one thing to do: jump through the hole at a nearly impossible trajectory. He looked up, the open hatch a couple shades lighter than the gloomy room. The rotors of the helicopter thumped like the siren call of hope. How could he possibly do this? He had to sail through an opening barely wide enough for one.
Don’t overthink it.
He pulled Magdelene’s broken body to him to create the smallest possible profile, called on his Strength, and jumped.
The wind hit them as they cleared the hold and fell backward onto one of the open hatch coverings, which leaned at such a precipitous angle it was nearly a floor. Dahlia lay on the deck, spread-eagle, rebar in one hand. Dolorem lay next to her, one hand on the rescue cable from the helicopter. Helo scooted over to them, pushing Magdelene’s body in front of him along the rain-slicked surface. The thunder of the rotors and the death groans of the ship pummeled their ears.
A sudden dread settled into his heart. Helo’s head whipped around. Up from the hatch clambered the Sheid, aura so dark it muted the storm-blackened sky behind it.
“Dolorem!” Helo yelled. “The rebar!”
Too late.
The Sheid’s arm transformed into a tentacle of dark smoke and wrapped itself around Helo’s waist.
Still morphed as Devon Qyn, it grinned and jumped back down the hatch, dragging Helo back inside the ship. He grabbed at anything he could hold on to, but his slippery fingers found no purchase. Down he fell into the ladder room, but the Sheid went deeper still, raking him down the ladder until the murky water consumed him.
A dreary cold penetrated Helo’s bones. Still deeper they went into the water. Helo fought, but there was nothing left in him. Blinded, heart pounding, lungs fit to explode, he floated in the darkness. Somewhere in front of him, the blackness of the Sheid hovered, a murk within a murk.
This was it. The moaning of the ship sounded strange beneath the water, at times mimicking whale song. How deep he was he couldn’t guess. His lungs begged for air, but the Sheid was an anchor. Somewhere in the dark, he knew it watched, taking pleasure in his descent into death.
Light.
It was just above him. The rebar. It was coming down so quickly he almost missed it. With a sluggish hand, Helo snatched it, swiping it through the shadowy tentacle. The tentacle broke. Helo surged upward, his legs propelling him. The top of the water had to be close. It had to be! He surfaced and gasped, frantically looking around to get his bearings.
A sudden pain ripped through his leg as a hook rammed through his ankle, snaring him. Downward he shot again, pulled like a fish on a taut line. Blood pumped from the wound, streaking the water. The face of Devon Qyn smirked in the glow of the rebar as he pulled Helo once again into the depths of the hold. Helo angled the bar down and tapped at the hook. It burst into a black cloud to be reabsorbed by the flinching Sheid’s hand.
He had one chance. As the Sheid thrust itself upward, Helo kicked his legs, flipping himself around in the water to get his head pointed toward the bottom. Claws thrust from the Sheid’s fingertips as one arm reached up from the gloom, the powerful grip encircling Helo’s neck.
So strong!
It squeezed, claws puncturing Helo’s skin.
Helo gritted his teeth and thrust upward with the rebar, ramming it into the space between the Sheid’s neck and shoulder.
The Sheid burst, a Vexus cloud billowing into the water like black ink shot from an octopus. The light of the rebar burned it away as it sucked the Vexus in, particles of light shimmering in the water, the fear and the dread dissipating like a hand wiping the mist off a fogged window.
He could see again. His neck howled in pain from the claw marks. Something in his vertebrae had cracked.
Move!
His lungs screamed for air. Disoriented, he swam, hoping he was pointed in the right direction. The rebar’s light was welcome but not penetrating. Everything seemed gray and green and upside down. The trembling and groaning of the ship worsened as he cast about, trying to find something familiar, when his head hit a yellow rail. The stairs! Using his free hand, he pulled himself along the rail, hoping he was going up. Then Dolorem was there, hand extended. Helo grasped it, and the Old Master pulled him out, hauling him into the ladder room.
The Ash Angel numbness was never so welcome, the sound of rotors never so sweet. The helicopter’s cable came through the hatch. Dolorem was hooked in.
“Get on!” Dolorem yelled, motioning to his back. “This is all going to hell right now!”
Helo jumped on. The hatch opening sat at such an awkward angle that when Dolorem called to be pulled up, the edge nearly scraped them off as they were pulled through. But after a hard tug, they were free and dangling in the air, rotor wash whipping the rain all around them. Helo stared at the maelstrom below.
The lake no longer awaited its victim. With a final moan, the Tempest surrendered itself to the sea, the Vexus disappearing with the metal beneath the waves. In moments the whirring cable brought them up, the copilot helping them into the craft. Helo let go of Dolorem and collapsed into the cabin, energy spent. The cabin door slid shut as the helicopter lurched forward. They were soaked and dripping everywhere.
Magdelene sat awkwardly on the floor, crying silently.
Helo lifted her up into the seat and buckled her in. He squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry. I miss her too.”
Dahlia sat opposite the window, face sober. Helo buckled in next to her while the copilot scrambled back to the front. Dolorem slumped to the floor near the cockpit. The sanctified rebar cast a weak glow on their faces, turning them all into ghosts. Frigid air whined through a broken window, adding to the steady thrum of the rotors.
