Relics and Runes Anthology

by Heather Marie Adkins

  I closed my eyes, listening. Nothing. A quick peek around the corner showed nothing in the hallway to the elevators. I’d have to risk it. I ran the ten steps to the elevators, half-expecting a bullet. The doors swooshed open at a touch of the button.

  Empty.

  Inside, I pressed for the fourth floor and rode it up. A plan that didn’t involve putting both myself and my mother at risk again would be nice. Nothing sprang to mind.

  On the fourth floor, I checked the hall then slid out of the elevator. The modern, white-and-grey decorated corridor was empty. I didn’t expect anyone to be waiting. Our apartment was on the fifth. Soft carpet underfoot absorbed any stray footfalls as I darted into the fire escape. With the door closed carefully behind, I peered upward.

  Nothing.

  Five long jumps brought me to the fifth-floor door. I punched the security code for entrance then eased the handle and opened the door a crack. Our door was in sight, and unguarded.

  Keeping out of the scope of the peephole, I pressed an ear to the wood. Nothing. I relaxed the tight control on my new skills. Tentatively, I extended one tiny tendril of self into the room, trying to gauge the presence of humans inside.

  Pain flashed a warning. I retreated, biting my lip against an involuntary groan. There were at least two people inside. I couldn’t tell who, though. If I was lucky, it was Paul and Anna and this would be a quick and easy rescue. At the very least, the attempt showed I couldn’t use all of my newfound abilities without an incapacitating level of pain. Which made them pointless, as far as I was concerned. Back to basics, then.

  I headed for the roof exit. Our place was on the top floor and my code gave access to the roof deck. The front door was likely to be watched but it was out of sight of the roof entrance.

  Outside, the seemingly ever-present threat of summer storms made good and the sky opened on me. Rain tumbled down, fat and cool on my hot skin. I vaulted over the token rail separating our outdoor area from the rest of the roof and crouched behind a chair. I peered through the downpour, into the brilliantly lit apartment.

  Disorder and chaos. We were always a little messy, but this was more than normal. Someone had upended every drawer and emptied every cupboard in search of something. The ocair?

  So where were they? The main living area, with its brilliant blue and green cushions shredded and scattered on the floor and couches overturned, was empty. In the kitchen, the fridge and cupboards stood open, contents smashed or strewn on the floor. Every picture was stripped from the wall and tossed aside. Shards of glass glittered on the white tiles.

  Throwing knife in hand, I tried the balcony door and slipped inside when it gave easily. I left my backpack tucked behind a couch then stepped carefully amongst the broken glass and paused at the hall entrance. No guard at the front door. My room opened off the hall. It appeared to be empty. All my scant wardrobe lay scattered across the floor, my boxes shredded.

  Avoiding an overturned lamp and a pile of broken crockery, I picked up the phone handset on the wall. Silence. No wonder it had gone to voicemail. The line was cut. I didn’t bother checking the odds and ends drawer in the kitchen. The gun my mother kept wouldn’t be there. Knives it was. I collected a kitchen utility knife on the way past and slid it into my leather belt with the others I’d pulled from my bag. It wasn’t exactly a throwing knife but at least gave me four blades instead of just three.

  As ready as I’d ever be, I glided towards the main bedroom. Crashing of cupboard doors and a male voice swearing attested to a search in there as well.

  No sound of Anna, but she would still be sedated, anyway.

  Three steps from the door, I took a long slow breath to steady my nerves and hefted my first throwing knife. The second rested in my other hand, ready. Hopefully it wouldn’t be needed. Hopefully it would be one knife, one throw. If the second person wasn’t Anna then things could get tricky. I had no easy cover, in this bare, narrow hall. Nowhere to retreat if there were more men inside. Knives were slower than bullets.

  I slipped in, found my target and threw. The knife sank squarely into an exposed back. The man straightened, his astonished gaze catching mine in the wall mirror. He gargled and collapsed to the floor. A second man stood next to him.

  Damn!

  Unless she was in the ensuite, Anna was not there. I’d felt only two people. Michael had already taken her.

  29

  We have to help her.

 

  Dammit, Maeve. We caused this. Her mother’s in danger because of us. She saved my life twice. We owe her.

 

  I know. That’s why we have to help. She’s spent her whole life not trusting anyone. She trusted us and we betrayed that. She won’t be able to control what she’s so afraid of on her own. She won’t admit it, but she needs my help.

 

  I know. I have to try.

  The second man turned, his gun coming into view.

  I threw my second knife.

  The man brought his gun up. He shifted. The knife caught him in the arm instead of the body. He yelped, dropped the gun and swore inventively. He yanked the blade out and flicked it inexpertly back at me. I had ample time to dodge. I used the movement to gain ground. If I could grab him before he regathered the gun... The knife hit the wall and ricocheted into the hall, tinkling across the tiles.

  A dark figure emerged from the ensuite.

  A third man.

  Silhouetted in brilliant light, was the distinctive shape of a gun. I changed direction in mid-stride and dived to the floor behind the bed. The phut of a silenced shot hit the wall. The bed was all that stood between me and another bullet.

  The odds were not fabulous. I needed to even them somehow. Spinning on my back, I placed both feet against the bed base. I dug my fingers into the pile carpet and shoved.

  The base rolled and I rolled with it, keeping out of view. It hit something. A strangled yell and a thump said someone else was down. Last throwing knife in hand, I peered through the narrow gap beneath the bed.

  There. Two bodies. Where was the third man?

  ‘Enough.’ A smooth voice, full of scorn and superiority, sounded from above me. ‘Drop it.’

  Connor towered over me, gun pointed squarely at my head. He stood just too far away. He could get a shot off before I could reach him with hand, foot or knife. Icy realisation solidified rage into fear in the pit of my stomach. I let the knife slide to the carpet.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  I turned, slowly, to gather my feet beneath me. How could I get closer?

  ‘No.’ He gestured with the muzzle. ‘Stay down. I know how fast you are.’ His gaunt face and deepset dark eyes betrayed only professional interest. The gun stayed solidly on my head. A red-stained bandage on his thigh didn’t seem to bother him. Nor did the sluggish trickle of blood down the side of his head from Logan’s shot.

  I obeyed; numb, vulnerable and exposed. The handle of the kitchen knife pressed into the small of my back, hidden but inaccessible.

  This was my own fault. If I’d let Logan come it would have evened the odds. My arrogance, distrust and anger had got me into this. There was no one to get me out. Steeling myself for the bullet, I tried to calm the sick fluttering in my belly.

  ‘I dropped you off a building,’ Connor said, tugging at the cuff on his sleeve. ‘I’d be quite interested to know how you survived.’

  ‘Just lucky, I guess. What now?’

  ‘I very much doubt luck had anything to do with it.’ Connor smiled thinly, the gun muzzle unwavering. ‘Mr Eisen and Mr Dyson will be most interested to hear of your survival.
Mr Eisen was so looking forward to dissecting you. And Mr Dyson – the head of the Mors Ferrum, you know – will be keen to study you. I believe this trip was worthwhile after all.’ He touched a finger to the blood on his cheek and inspected it without changing expression.

  ‘Where’s Anna?’ At least I didn’t sound frightened. That was some comfort. Not much.

  ‘Long since gone to the airport.’ Connor pulled a second weapon out from his waistband and checked the clip. ‘By this time, she’ll be on an MJE jet for Brisbane.’

  A curious mixture of relief and horror washed through me. Anna was alive but still in Michael’s custody; still oblivious to what was going on and who was responsible. I thrust the knowledge aside.

  If there was a future, getting Anna back lay there, not here. Here and now I had to find a way out of this. Connor was not the sort of man to underestimate me again. He was a professional and probably harbouring a grudge for the taser and the knife to the thigh.

  ‘So, what are you going to do with me?’ I did my best to ignore the narrow black hole aiming death at me.

  He smiled a little more broadly. ‘Well…’ He pointed the second weapon at my body. A dart gun. ‘First you’re going to tell me where Anna keeps the ocair. Then we’ll take the second jet to Brisbane to meet up with Mr Eisen.’ He raised thin brows. ‘His facility there is well-established and will be overjoyed to have you as their…guest.’

  ‘Why the hell would I tell you anything?’ I allowed scorn to colour my voice. ‘Besides, as I told Michael, I don’t even know what an ocair is, let alone where to find it.’

  ‘Ah.’ He inspected me thoughtfully. ‘I think I believe you. I’d already come to the conclusion it wasn’t here, anyway. Thank you for making it so easy. Now we can get on with stage two.’ He pulled the dart-gun trigger. The dart slapped into my thigh and the familiar, warm lassitude spread through the muscle. He threw the dartgun aside and re-trained the nine millimetre between my eyes. His lips twitched into a patient, condescending smile.

  There had to be something I could do. I couldn’t just lie here on the floor, waiting to be taken captive and studied like some animal. I had to save Anna.

  Desperation and anger makes me do dumb things.

  I’d observed Maeve’s work. I knew what to do. I turned inward and contemplated that last block in my mind. I couldn’t remove it, but I saw how to open it temporarily – enough to release the bonds holding the shadows fast.

  If I did it, what would come out? What would I do? Who was I, really?

  Connor slid his phone out of his pocket and thumbed the screen. No. If he told Michael I lived I’d lose any element of surprise.

  The choice was made. I would live with the consequences. Or not. I opened the door.

  Darkness surged, exploding out of hiding, encompassing the world in its fiery arms, burning away the drug…

  …And I stood behind Connor, disorientated but fully alive to the danger he still posed. I grabbed his right arm and levered it across my forearm. The bone snapped at the elbow with a sickening crack. He shrieked and dropped to his knees. Snatching at the fallen gun, he rolled and came up with the weapon in his left hand.

  He pulled the trigger.

  Something thumped into my body. The mirror behind me shattered, showering silver onto the cream carpet.

  Blackness roared again, smashing seals and barriers, blinding me with pain and power. Stretched, enveloped, besieged in both body and mind, I watched my hand reach towards Connor. His eyes jumped to my stomach. Real fear flickered in him. Something warm slid down my leg. He raised the gun, his arm shaking.

  Connecting to the sianfath was surprisingly easy this time. I simply extended myself to include him and the two men still lying, half alive, on the floor behind the bed. Then beyond to touch the life force of everyone else in the building. I was simultaneously three hundred or more people. Three hundred lives at my mercy. It was a curious feeling and I was tempted to explore; to see exactly how far I could stretch.

  A faint sound from the floor brought my attention back. Connor gaped at me, his eyes stark. What did he see in my face to make him look so? His finger tightened on the trigger. I swayed to one side and something punched my left arm.

  I ignored it.

  He pulled the trigger once more. I withdrew everything he was: his life, his energy, his essence. An empty husk collapsed bonelessly to the floor. His angular face slackened. Dark eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. The gun fell to the carpet. The bright ball of Connor’s life-energy flared inside me.

  One of the other men groaned from behind the bed and I walked around to stand over him. Somewhere I registered pain; wounds that should be addressed. A mind within my own, broken and drowning in agony and horror. I ignored it. Pain was illusory. I was bigger than mere body and mind now.

  I was the world and it was mine.

  I extended a hand towards the men lying behind the bed. Their life-lights were bright and compelling. They would heal me. Their lives were nothing.

  ‘Red, stop.’

  Something in that voice gave me pause. Someone familiar stood in the doorway. Logan. The name came to me as though shouted down a tunnel. Friend. No: betrayer of trust. I eyed him calmly. His mental touch brushed my mind. I swatted it aside. He flinched. His eyes widened as Connor’s had.

  Was he afraid, too? Good. It was time someone feared me, rather than the reverse. I’d spent too many years running and hiding; centuries of being hunted. Now I had the means to change that. Time the world saw what I could do.

  ‘Who are you?’ His soft, incredulous question fell into the silence.

  I stretched the mouth I owned into a smile. ‘I’m Ruadhán. I am what the Daoine sidhe are meant to be. I am one with the sianfath and…’ I reached out to pull his mind into mine. ‘I’m everything she was afraid of. I’m what the world needs. What the Daoine need to overcome the Mors Ferrum. Join me. Be one with me.’

  ‘Stop it.’ Logan backed away, holding his shields firm. ‘Whoever you are, you’re not her. Red wouldn’t do this.’ He pointed to the shell of Connor, twisted on the floor.

  A hollow laugh emerged from my lips. ‘Then you don’t know her. Why do you think she keeps running? Not because she’s afraid of these fools.’ I drained the life-force of one Michael’s men with no more thought than drinking water. The burning brightness filled me. ‘It’s because she’s afraid of herself and what she’s done.’

  Logan pursed his lips. ‘We’ve all done things we regret to survive. She said she’d never intentionally—’

  My lips twisted into a smirk. ‘No. She’s afraid because she doesn’t regret them. And now, I think, she’s almost ready. Once I take that last block down we’ll be able to—’

  Something slapped into my thigh, two of the faintest mosquito bites compared to the pain held at bay elsewhere. I plucked the darts free and tossed them aside, sneering contemptuously at the man on the floor who’d dared to shoot.

  ‘A bullet couldn’t stop me, you idiot, so this won’t either.’ I laughed at him, draining his life-force in a millisecond and smiling as he slumped. ‘I will simply—’

  The room spun and the body sagged under the drug’s influence. Logan appeared at my side, holding me up. Staring hard into my eyes, searching my soul, he spoke,

  ‘Red, hold on. I know you’re in there. Fight him. Let me help you. Trust me. Just this once. You have to trust me. Please!’

  He kissed me.

  The room darkened. Pain, held at bay, exploded in every neurone of my body. Weakened and horror-struck I lacked the strength to bind the shadows away again. I clung to Logan. To the feel of his mouth on mine, the fierce power of his mind, helping me fight back against myself.

  I hesitated, afraid to let him in. I’d been betrayed too often. Did he just want this power for himself?

  No, this time I needed help. Without it the monster would be unleashed on the world. With my abilities, nothing would stand against it…me.

  I had to take the ri
sk and trust him.

  I opened my shields and thoughts to him.

  Together we waged war.

  The strength of Logan’s mind augmented mine. His skill directed my power. I stood against that which was, and was not, both me and my father. I battled myself and Calain, fought my hate and his, my fear and his, my blackest impulses…and his.

  And, together, Logan and I forced my will upon the darkness that was Calain’s memories, embedded in my mind. I screamed my self-loathing defiance into the faceless morass of my soul and thrust his dark presence back into its prison. He retreated into the darkest corner of my mind, locked away again in the dungeon of Lothien; hidden, waiting.

  Smaller, lost, horrified, self-aware at last, I touched my stomach. Blood ran freely, pumping with my heart’s every erratic beat. I looked to Logan, whispering his name. The edges of my vision yellowed into unconsciousness.

  He caught me as I fell.

  ‘Stay with me, Red,’ were the last words I heard.

  30

  She’s waking up.

 

  Is it just her?

 

  What do we tell her?

 

  Dammit, Maeve. When will this stop? You can’t keep using her this way.

 

  She’s not—

 

  Lethargy pinned my limbs to the bed and held my eyelids closed. Even my lungs felt heavy in my chest, each breath a struggle. Fighting against the dregs of sleep, I opened my eyes to a ceiling that had no place in my life. The bed beneath felt unfamiliar, the sheets new and crisp, mattress too soft, threatening to suck me back into darkness.

  I shied away from the thought. Darkness. There was something…It had taken over, evicted me from my own mind, empowered and terrified, killed without regret. Oh my God. What was I?