by S. S. Segran
Akol looked up at the man, horrified. “I did not!”
Another villager guarding him thrusted a gore-soaked staff at his face. “This is yours, is it not?”
“No! Well, yes, but I had lost it and was searching for it before you—”
“Back!” a new voice boomed. “Back, all of you!”
The crowd parted immediately. Nageau strode through, leading Tikina and Tayoka. Saiyu could barely focus on what was happening. She stared at Akol for a long while as the remaining Elders spoke to him, then made her way over. The entire place quieted.
“You smiled,” she murmured. “You smiled when you killed him.”
Terror marred the youth’s face. He shook his head frantically. “No. No. I do not know what you saw, but I did not kill him. I have not even been at the temple the entire day. The last time I saw Elder Ashack—Elder Tayoka, you were there! I said I was going hunting!”
Tayoka cocked his head to the side, pained. “It certainly seems as if you kept to your word.”
A couple of tears slipped down Akol’s cheeks. “No. Please. Why would I do this? What reason would I ever have to do this?”
“You did say you were upset at not being allowed to leave Dema-Ki . . .”
“Because I wanted to help find Jag! And that was about my grandparents! How would hurting Elder Ashack get me what I wanted?”
“I do not know, Akol, but every eyewitness says it was you they saw. And, most importantly, so did Saiyu.”
Saiyu watched blankly as Akol turned pleading eyes toward her. “Elder Saiyu,” he said, voice cracking. “You have known me all my life. You know I would never do this. I would sooner die than commit an act so despicable.”
“How else can you explain what I saw?” she whispered.
“I—I don’t . . . perhaps someone has the ability to shift their appearance?”
“You know we do not have anyone among us currently alive who has that capability,” someone at the front of the crowd said. “Even if we did, why would they want to implicate you? Why would they want Ashack gone for good?”
As Akol tried to argue his point, the last question that had been posed froze Saiyu in her spot. Why, indeed, would anyone want Ashack dead? Hadn’t he said that he was onto something about his hunch? About . . . Nal?
The world around her lurched. Tikina caught her before she fell and held her up. Nothing made sense. The dots in her head weren’t connecting. She struggled madly to piece it all together only to have it fall apart again. There were missing fragments of information and foggy attempts at understanding and—
She forced her reeling thoughts to come to a halt. How much did any of this matter when she’d seen with her own eyes what had happened, and who had done it?
The world tilted again as her mind flashed back to Akol’s staff plowing into Ashack’s body. And now her mate lay at her feet, skin already graying despite the tan of his complexion.
“Take him to one of the abandoned single neyra,” Nageau told the men guarding Akol. His tone was restrained, as was his expression, but heartbreak glistened in his eyes. Tikina, still holding Saiyu upright, could not look at her grandson as he was led away.
Akol’s parents objected tearfully, trying to get him free before being held back. Huyani managed to squirm through the crowd and planted herself in front of the small procession. She protested ferociously, begging everyone to withhold judgement until all the facts had come to light. “Do not make hasty judgments! We do not know what all happened!”
“The only thing we do not know is why it happened!” one of the villagers shouted back. “People saw Akol, and that is his weapon covered in Elder Ashack’s blood!”
“My brother is not a murderer and you know it! You know it in your hearts! This feels wrong! All of it!”
The crowd shifted uncomfortably, then another voice said, “But we know what we saw.”
“Fools, the lot of you!” she cried.
“Huyani,” Tikina called, somehow both firm and weak.
Her granddaughter snarled, an unsettling look for someone of such gentle mien, but she stepped aside to let the men walk Akol toward the other end of the valley.
Tikina finally stood back, grasping Saiyu at arm’s length. They gazed at each other, and she touched her forehead to Saiyu’s. “I am so, so sorry.”
Saiyu let her mind go, then, and for the rest of the day remained vacated of everything—voice, thought, autonomy and emotion. What better way to cope with death than to act as one dead to the world.
Geneva was a ghost town.
Gareth observed the littered streets and damaged buildings for the first time since mayhem had struck the gentle city. From his vantage point on top of the Assembly Building of the Palace of Nations, it was hard to look at any one place and not see bodies; they were strewn everywhere, many mangled beyond recognition. The wintry air kept decomposition at bay, so there was at least that to be thankful for.
His throat closed. What kind of monster must you be to spawn such wretched creatures? He gave his head a forceful shake. Focus. Now is not the time.
He glanced at Kody, who kept watch for movement below. Using the boy’s enhanced senses, the group had located a lone Scourger stalking the grounds of the United Nations’ European headquarters. Victor, Tegan, and Aari were inside the Assembly Hall below them, waiting for the signal to ready their trap.
Gareth zipped up his winter coat, missing the feel of his usual leather jacket but grateful for the added warmth. He yanked his knit cap lower over his ears. Temperatures hadn’t quite hit sub-zero, but Switzerland in December was still cold.
It is going to be a very, very lousy Christmas, he seethed inwardly. Reyor is the ultimate Grinch. A murderous Grinch. A sociopathic Grinch with a twisted savior complex. A leviathan of a Grinch who—
Kody lightly knocked his arm. “Uh, G? You okay? Your face got all weird.”
“Aye, I’m grand.”
Kody gave him a look, then indicated below. “The Scourger just circled around the right side. Seems to be taking its time, and it’s a long walk to the back of the complex. I’ve already let the others know. Victor said they’re ready to move out.”
“Guess that’s my cue to join them. Are you sure you’ll be alright up here by yourself?”
Kody gave a thumbs-up as he raked his eyes over the streets. A two-way radio from the Lodge’s supply was curled in one fist. Gareth gave him a thump on the shoulder and finagled his way over a few rows of giant ductwork behind them. He made it to the end of the upper structure, lowered himself over the parapet, and landed lithely on the lower roof. Jogging along, he soon reached the window he and Kody had used to access the roof. Once inside, he picked up the pace, working his way down toward the main floor until he at last came upon the rest of the group waiting in an open gallery; though it was sparsely furnished, it still retained its minimalistic beauty.
Victor had a hunting rifle slung over his shoulder, as did Tegan. Aari carried the tranquilizers. They weren’t planning to take any risks today. At least, not any more than they already were.
“Vaughn.” Victor nodded at him. “Ready?”
“Who wouldn’t be all set to act as tantalizing bait for a bloodthirsty monster?” Gareth said cheerfully, removing his coat and handing it to Aari. “No use being hindered by this, hm?” He gave an exaggerated, frivolous twirl, arms spread wide. “Reckon I’m enough of a tease for the Scourger?”
Aari barked a laugh and Tegan pulled a face. Victor pinched the bridge of his nose, grumbling. “Can we just get on with this?”
Gareth would have loved to annoy the older Sentry more, but they had work to do. Carefully, he picked up the object that was the heart of their mission: a large, antiquated bear trap they’d found while rummaging around the Lodge’s various storage spaces. It weighed heavily in his arms, the edges digging into him. Victor hoisted a second trap. Together, the four of them picked their way deeper into the building, past empty meeting rooms and into a long concourse wit
h high windows that allowed light to shine on the polished, honey-brown flooring.
“To think,” Aari said, voice disconcertingly loud in the large space, “that this was where people met to talk about the most important issues of the world.”
“And before them,” added Gareth, “the League of Nations called this their home. No matter what one might say about either organization, this is an incredibly historic place.”
“Now it’s a husk. All it took was one night.”
“It’s still pristine,” Tegan murmured. “Guess there weren’t too many people working late when the Scourgers rolled in.”
They emerged from the back of the building into the massive courtyard that spanned between two wings of the headquarters. Briefly taking in the scene, Gareth found that the building’s facade was far less welcoming than its interior. When the sun’s rays struck the stone exterior, the courtyard became glaringly bright, forcing him to squint to make out the darker unpaved squares that would boast decorative turf along with minimal flora in the summer months.
The group descended to a marble platform, on either side of which were more stairs leading down. Tegan took the left one, and Aari headed right. They set up by a half-wall flanking the steps, readying their weapons. The Sentries jogged to the center of the courtyard, pushing the two bear traps deep into the swards of dry grass several yards apart from one another.
The radio clipped to Victor’s belt crackled. “Scourger inbound. It’ll see you guys in about two minutes at the rate it’s going.”
Victor unhooked the radio to acknowledge Kody’s message, then raised an eyebrow at Gareth. “Let’s hurry the bruiser along.”
As Victor headed away to take up position with his rifle, Gareth loped in the direction of the approaching beast. Despite the chill, his hands had begun to feel clammy. He hadn’t yet had the chance to see one of these new monstrosities up close, but hearing about it from the others had made him more than a little anxious, especially after learning how much distance it could cover in one leap. That was why they’d brought along both bear traps; if the Scourger soared over the first, hopefully the second one would catch it. If not, they had two shooters with real bullets and another with plenty of tranquilizers.
It was a rudimentary plan at best, but their options were severely limited. They’d wracked their brains trying to come up with something quickly so there would at least be some of the creatures left in the city. Mariah, though she’d valiantly offered to act as bait, was still recovering, so the group had insisted she stay behind with Anya and Chief at the Lodge.
Something black moved by a garbage bin a hundred yards ahead. Gareth wasn’t going to wait to get a proper look at it. “Oi!” he hollered. The creature’s bat-like head snapped up, scorching gaze immediately locking onto him. He raised his arms in a strutting display of a challenge. “Yeah, I’m talkin’ to ya, y’ugly bugger! Come! Get! Some!”
And just like that, the chase was on. Gareth shot back toward the courtyard. The only sound from the beast behind him was its paws tearing into the ground and its steady, cavernous breathing. Fear and adrenaline screamed in Gareth’s veins; he could sense the creature thriving on the chase, a fervent euphoria that nothing could satiate.
Peeling through the courtyard, he leapt over the first trap and looked back, legs still pumping. The beast sailed over the trap without breaking stride, black fangs gleaming in an ecstatic grin.
Damn! Gareth propelled himself over the second trap, barreling on without checking. Only when the metallic clang of the jaws springing shut bounced across the walls did he stumble to a halt, panting, and turn to look.
The Scourger’s hind leg was caught, the teeth of the trap digging in. But the creature only seemed annoyed. It stared at Gareth for a long moment, then whipped its head back and started to chew on the trap. When that proved futile, it shifted tactics.
“It’s trying to bite its leg off!” Gareth yelled.
Victor shouted orders. Three projectiles impacted the beast from different angles. The Scourger barely noticed.
“Aari, keep firing until you’re out!” Victor instructed.
But no matter how many tranquilizers were let loose, the fiend stayed conscious, its leg almost halfway detached. Victor vaulted over the side of the marble platform and strode toward it, rifle in hand. “I don’t think we can take it alive,” he said before promptly shooting it in the back of its head.
The bullet hit its mark—then slid to the ground with a clink, flattened.
Slowly, the abomination let go of its leg and turned to the Sentry, dark blood dripping from its jaws. Victor shot it again, right between the eyes, but the bullet crumpled like the first one did, leaving only a miniscule mark in the short black fur. He fired over and over to no avail.
With a glare that Gareth could only call contemptuous, the Scourger returned to its leg and clamped down. Three more inches and it would be free. Victor started to back away, motioning madly for the others to do the same. “Get back inside!”
With one last brutal bite, the Scourger severed its leg. Hardly any blood gushed out, and with its remaining paws, the beast launched itself at Victor.
Gareth bellowed. The area around him slid out of focus as he unleashed his thermokinesis in a panic. He couldn’t see anything but managed to hone in on the Scourger and sensed the drop in its molecular kinetic energy. Grinding his teeth, he kept pushing, fighting to stay upright and clear his vision. It seemed like hours until he could no longer detect any energy to manipulate. He let go and dropped to his knees, willing his heart to slow.
When his vision steadied, he saw Victor standing over the Scourger where it lay, unmoving. Gareth dragged himself to his feet and made his way over, nudging the nearly-frozen body with his boot. Victor glanced at him and nodded once in thanks. He looked a little pale.
Even the Knight of the North gets scared every now and then, Gareth thought, only somewhat amused.
Aari and Tegan joined them, passing him his coat. Victor picked up the carcass, grunting with the effort.
“I’m sorry,” Gareth lamented. “We needed it alive. I should have stopped sooner.”
Tegan squeezed his arm. “If it helps, I think you did the right thing. Best to not take chances with this thing.”
“And we still have a specimen!” Aari chimed in.
Gareth gave the two of them an appreciative smile as the group headed back into the grand building. Kody joined them as they stepped out the front doors and helped Victor load the beast into the box bed of the ancient truck that had gotten them to the Lodge earlier.
“Can’t wait to get back and cut this thing open,” Gareth said. “I’m curious to see what it’s made of.”
“Vaughn,” Victor said. “Drive.”
Surprised, Gareth went around the truck and got in with Victor beside him. As he touched the wires under the steering wheel together to bring the vehicle to life, Aari, Tegan and Kody took their places at the back of the box bed, poking at the Scourger like curious kids who’d just found a dead squirrel in their garden.
As they drove out of the city, Gareth noticed that Victor was as still as a statue. He wore a slight frown, his gaze simultaneously faraway but fixed. Though not a telepath himself, Gareth had long come to learn the signs of one engaged in silent communication.
A few minutes later, Victor blew air out of his nose and tilted his head back.
“What is it?” Gareth asked.
The other Sentry shook his head, mouthing “Kody,” and tapped his ear. Gareth pursed his lips and they drove on in silence.
* * *
It was dark by the time they returned to the Lodge. While the friends hauled the Scourger to a room on the main floor, Victor pulled Gareth into the meeting room on the third. “Elder Ashack is dead,” he said.
Gareth stared at him. “Beg your pardon?”
“Looks like Nageau’s grandson killed him. Akol’s been detained while they try to figure things out. The funeral will be held within th
e next day or so.”
“I . . . what? No. What?”
“I’ve been told to let the others know at the appropriate time, but I won’t.”
Still trying to make sense of the information unloaded onto him, Gareth gripped his hair. “Vic, you can’t hide this from them!”
Victor twisted the rings on his middle fingers. “They can’t know. Not yet. How do you think this will go over? You want a bunch of rattled kids walking around when they’re already missing a member of their group? Don’t forget that Ashack was Aari’s mentor. I’ll tell them when this is over.”
“And when exactly will that be?” Gareth demanded. “What if this takes another month? Or more? Or, God forbid, we find out Jag’s gone for good. You’re going to drop this on them then?”
“Leave it to me. And if you breathe one word—”
Gareth cut him off with a curse and turned, stalking away.
“Vaughn!” Victor snapped.
“I won’t tell them,” Gareth lashed back. “But I don’t agree with this. Marshall would never allow it.”
Victor’s tone was frigid. “I’m not Marshall, and he’s not here.”
Gareth paused by the stairs and shot him a pained look, then went down to the bathroom to empty his system of grief and frustration. Once his eyes were no longer swollen and his face less ruddy, he rejoined the friends where they stood around the Scourger’s body as it rested on a rolling metal table. The tools he’d requested were already gathered. Mariah was there with them as well, observing the dead creature with mixed emotions.
He attempted a jovial smile. “Now then, shall we open up this thing and see how it runs?”
“I just realized,” Aari said from where he was seated on a stool at the beast’s tail-end, “how are we gonna dissect this thing? The bullets barely made any dents.”
Kody raised a finger. “I was able to stab one through the neck up close, and I almost cut off the paw of another.”
“Maybe the head and specific parts of the body are reinforced?” Tegan suggested.
“One way to find out.” Gareth passed around surgical masks and gloves. “Our new friend will be quite ripe. There are extra disposable gowns, too, if you don’t want to get Scourger viscera on you.”
