“I have an opportunity for one of you,” Simeon said, reloading calmly. “Give us the locations of any Thule family member, or Courtney Lede and Mohammed Omar. Assuming Miss Tuesday is in acceptable shape, I will let one of you live.”
Daniel put his blade to the throat of one of the Thule Operators, and the tall man bent his head back and grimaced, adding to the crevasses on his lined face. At their feet, the woman whose intestines Daniel had spilled writhed and bled out.
“Aníbal, was it?” Simeon turned his attention to the man who had surrendered. “Do you have something you want to tell me?”
“I report to Courtney Lede,” the man said quickly. “I can give you his position.”
“Good enough,” Simeon said, the pain already gathering in the back of his head. “Daniel?”
The remaining Thule Operator went for his gun despite Daniel’s blade, his hands brushing the bottom of the protruding magazine as an invisible machete was buried in the side of his head, cleaving his ear neatly in two and crunching deeply into the skull.
He stumbled and gasped, the pistol spilling to the floor. A second blow from the machete laid him down beside it, shrieking wildly.
“You said that you report to Courtney Lede,” Simeon said to the remaining Operator, racking his pistol. “What’s your full name?”
Daniel silenced the wounded Operator. He was splattered with gore from his dusty boots all the way to his almond-shaped eyes.
“Aníbal Estrada,” the Thule Operator said. “Listen, you aren’t going to…”
Simeon hurried to Chandi and started to fiddle with her bonds while Daniel finished off the disemboweled woman, hacking at her neck until it was cut nearly through.
“What we do depends on the state of Miss Tuesday and what you have to say to us. Where can we find Courtney Lede?”
“At the old Thule residence outside of Central,” Aníbal said rapidly. “They set up headquarters there.”
“Defenses?”
“Just the usual stuff. Walls and alarms, some guards. It’s pretty far out, so they aren’t too worried.”
The zip-ties were pulled so tight around Chandi’s wrists that they had sunken into her skin, blood seeping around the edges. Simeon decided to strip away the vinyl tape pressed across her mouth first.
“I’m…don’t…I’m okay!” Chandi spit out a balled-up rag. “You don’t…they didn’t…”
Simeon glanced at Daniel. Daniel shrugged.
“Ladies choice,” Daniel said, wiping his machete on the dead man’s jeans. “Not my preference, but if you insist.”
“I’m basically fine,” Chandi said. “Let him go.”
To Simeon’s eye, Chandi looked surprisingly intact. Her lips were puffy, one eye was encircled with a swelling bruise, and injection marks lined her inner arms, but she was still wearing clothes, and all her fingernails and teeth were intact.
“If you’re sure,” Simeon said, carefully removing the IV from her arm. “I truly do not mind taking care of him.”
“I don’t want that. Please. It wasn’t that bad.”
“It would be better if we did, Miss Tuesday,” Daniel said. “Getting out of here is going to be a challenge. Are you sure you can even walk? We don’t need this garbage raising the alarm.”
“No, please don’t kill him,” Chandi said. “We have to be better than them, or there’s no point. Don’t you see? It isn’t enough to be stronger. We also need to be right.”
Daniel smirked, while Simeon considered it.
“If you say so,” Simeon said, turning to the Thule Operator, his trembling hands still beside his head. “You heard her, Aníbal Estrada. You get to live.”
Aníbal turned to run, freezing in place when he heard Simeon draw his gun.
“You leave after we are gone,” Simeon growled. “Lay face down on the floor, hands behind your head.”
The Thule Operator hurriedly assumed the position. Daniel strolled over and put his foot on the back of the man’s head.
Simeon took the knife from his belt and then carefully went to work on the zip-ties.
It took a few tense minutes, and a nick or two from Chandi’s wrists, but he eventually managed to free her arms. The ankles were easier.
Simeon gave her a few minutes to recover, and then offered his arm.
Daniel noticed the grimace on Simeon’s face, the sweat gathering below his hairline, and his eyes narrowed.
Chandi took Simeon’s hand and rose carefully. She cried out in pain and dismay and would have fallen to the ground, if not for Simeon dutifully catching her.
Daniel was right. After half a day tied to the chair, the blood cut off to her feet, Chandi could not stand, much less walk. Simeon set her clumsily back on the chair, his head throbbing and his vision swimming.
“I’m sorry,” Chandi murmured, rubbing her legs. “I just need a minute to…”
“Take your time, Miss,” Daniel said. “We aren’t going anywhere for an hour or so.”
The headache was like a thunderclap in Simeon’s brain, a burst of pain that shattered his thoughts.
“Why not?” Chandi asked. “They’ve been coming and going the entire time I was here. It won’t be long before…”
Simeon took two steps and then slowly sat down. He blinked a few times, shook his head, and then collapsed, vomiting across the concrete floor.
“…before they come back?” Daniel grinned and rolled Simeon on to his side. He searched a pouch attached to his belt, and then came up with a pencil, which he forced between Simeon’s teeth. “I’m afraid my companion’s protocol is the sort that comes at a price, Miss. He’ll be having a migraine and a few little seizures for the next while.”
“That’s terrible,” Chandi said, looking at Simeon sympathetically as she tried to massage her feet back to life. “His protocol is Black, then?”
“As the night,” Daniel said. “Didn’t used to be, back when we were at the Academy, but after a few years in the field, something changed. I never heard the full story, but it had something to do with ghouls in the Donbass, and a raid that only he survived. Now he ends up like this every time he uses his protocol. It’s a hassle.”
“You don’t sound very sympathetic.”
“I’m not,” Daniel agreed. “Not at all.”
“Aren’t you both Black Sun?”
“Of course! We are brothers-in-arms. Simeon and I just happened to be involved in a friendly rivalry right now.”
“What do you mean?”
“You are of course familiar with the Mistress of the Black Sun, Lady Martynova?”
“She recruited me,” Chandi said, looking mildly self-conscious. “We were in the same class at the Academy.”
“Then I’ll make certain that you are sent an invitation,” Daniel said, prodding Aníbal in the head with his boot. “Are you sure they didn’t do anything to you that I can avenge?”
“They were not kind or gentle,” Chandi said, averting her eyes. “I’m fine, though, and I do not want unnecessary blood on my hands.”
“Don’t let my current appearance fool you. I won’t get blood on anything,” Daniel said, hand on the hilt of his machete. “I can be very neat.”
“Please don’t. What were you saying about Anastasia?”
“I suppose it’s no secret,” Daniel said. “But…aren’t you a precognitive? Can’t you see it coming?”
“It’s all math to me,” Chandi said. “I just know probabilities. If I don’t know what to look for, then I’ll never see it coming.”
“I’ll let you in on a juicy future event, then,” Daniel said, hooking his thumbs behind his belt. “You see, Anastasia Martynova and I are to be married in the very near future.”
***
It was only after they took cover beneath the frame of the bullet-riddled car that Maxim realized how uncomfortably close that left them. He focused his attention on the small strip of the meadow in front them, all that he could see in the gap between the wheel well and the axle.
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“You’re sure you remember the interval for this patrol?”
“I was right about the last one, wasn’t I?”
Maxim had to admit that she was, giving her a grudging nod.
“The timing wasn’t as close, last time,” Maxim grumbled. “We had better find cover. That’s a big open space in front of us.”
“You want to use the woods, don’t you? We – I mean, the Thule Cartel – mined them. You’ll never make it without a precog.”
“We’ll never make it,” Maxim corrected. “That’s your new ‘we’.”
“Of course,” she said. “You don’t have to remind me.”
Maxim eyed her dubiously. She was dwarfed by her rucksack, and her head disappeared into the helmet she had borrowed from Maxim, but she bore the load with a straight back and no complaints. The singular braid that held her long hair was gradually coming loose, and she frequently had to wave hair from her face.
She noticed him looking and smiled like he was an old friend, someone that she was pleased to see.
Maxim considered shooting her on the spot, but it was an idle consideration. Harming an empath was no mean feat, and it would have given their position away, anyway.
“You don’t have to be so happy about it,” Maxim muttered. “How long now?”
“They’ll be coming by any moment,” she said in a hushed voice, moving so that she could also peer out the gap. “Relax.”
He wanted to respond, but he could already hear footsteps.
Her shoulder pressed against his, and Maxim wondered how powerful she was. If she was an F-Class empath, or better, then there was nothing to be done about it. He would be helpless to do anything to her. If she was anything less, though, he might have something to work with.
The patrol was close. Maxim was mildly affronted by their lack of discipline, their unguarded conversation giving away their positions. They walked in a rough line, quite close to each other, the Operator watching their right flank smoking openly, not even bothering to cup the cigarette with his hand. The Thule Cartel takeover of Central was hardly complete, and their Operators were already confident to the point of laxity.
That could not mean good things for whatever Black Sun forces had been caught in Central when the Ether became impassible, but that was not Maxim’s problem. Which was good, he thought, because he had so many other problems to contend with.
Maxim watched the patrol pass within five meters of their position without any real anxiety. It was the most routine sort of patrol, so sure of finding nothing that no one even bothered to look. His combat telepathy was more than enough to deflect their limited attention, Delphi effortlessly redirecting any stray gazes.
He glanced at the young woman and wondered if he could strangle her without alerting the patrol.
“You won’t do anything bad to me,” she whispered. “I’m cooperating.”
The second statement was true, at the very least. He had not bothered to bind her hands or take her gear. He’d done a quick search for weapons, and then let her tag along without appearing to pay her much attention. She followed obediently, providing patrol routes and timing before he could ask.
The patrol passed just out of sight, and they both leaned forward, trying to catch a glimpse of any potential stragglers. Her stray hair tickled his cheek, and he flinched away dramatically enough that she noticed.
“You’re fine,” she said. “Don’t worry.”
“I can’t help it,” Maxim admitted. “Everything about you worries me.”
“Why? Haven’t I been helpful?” She glanced at her watch. “In about thirty seconds, that’ll be our best chance of crossing the clearing without…”
“You’re quite powerful, aren’t you?” Maxim said, rubbing his chin, a disturbing thought bubbling to the front of his mind. “You never did say your name.”
“I never did?”
“No. You did not.”
“How silly of me.”
“Yes.”
She nodded and smiled affably.
“Don’t play games,” Maxim said. “What is your name?”
“Well…”
Maxim put a hand on his sidearm.
“Don’t get the wrong idea,” he said. “I will kill you, and I will leave your body for the birds to eat. What is your damn name?”
She looked away, her mouth tugged down into a pout.
“My name is Gabriela – but everyone just calls me Gabby. You should, too.”
Maxim glared impatiently.
“It’s Gabriela Estanza-Thule,” she admitted. “You probably know my big sister, Lóa. I was adopted into the family when I was eight, and joined the Thule Cartel officially almost a year ago and…I’ve just made everything very complicated for you, haven’t I?”
***
The buses rumbled and wheezed, idling beside the Administration building. Some were municipal, while others were the Academy’s own buses.
“This is truly impressive,” Gerald Windsor said, reviewing the assembled buses. “How did you manage to gather so many on such short notice?”
“I commandeered every bus at the transit center in Central,” Rebecca said proudly. “Then I shanghaied anyone that could drive one of these things. I found some vans, too. I think it’ll be enough.”
“I think you might be right, as far as students and staff are concerned,” Gerald said, looking over his lists. “I’m worried about moving the patients in the infirmary, though. Michael, in particular…”
“I don’t think that will be a problem,” Michael said, grinning as he approached them. His scarred face felt stiff and inflexible, but the smile was genuine. “I’m feeling a little better.”
Rebecca’s leaping hug nearly took him from his feet.
“Michael?” Gerald looked stunned. “How are you possibly up?”
“Your face,” Rebecca said, touching him gently. “Your eyes! My god! Michael, how did this happen?”
“I’ll explain later. On the way,” Michael said. “Where are we going, anyway?”
“We can’t stay at the Academy,” Rebecca explained. “It’s too big, too open, and way too close to Central. The Far Shores, on the other hand, is remote and designed to be defensible.”
“Makes sense to me,” Michael said. “Will they have enough room? Between the Audits support staff and the science team assigned there, it isn’t crowded, but…”
“We don’t have much of an option,” Rebecca said darkly. “Central is burning, Michael, and it won’t be long before the Thule Cartel comes here.”
“Is it that bad?” Michael noticed the plume of brown smoke ascending from the urban core into the grey sky. “Oh. I see that it is.”
“This war has become uglier than I imagined, far faster than I anticipated,” Gerald said, checking his lists. “I think we could be ready to go in the morning, if we started to prepare now. Shall I begin, Director?”
Rebecca nodded.
“We need to get moving,” she said, looking it the direction of the orange glow of Central. “I think it’s gonna get worse before it gets better.”
***
“Are we done?”
“Not quite,” John Parson said. “I’m still hopeful that you can be persuaded.”
“Really?” Eerie toyed with her hair. “Persuaded to do what?”
“The Church of Sleep will have you, Ériu, one way or the other,” John said. “That is inevitable. I hope to convince you that it would be better for everyone if you just…”
“I know what you intend to do,” Eerie interrupted.
“Do you?”
“Yes, of course. I know what happens the same way I know what has already happened.”
“If only I could see the world from your perspective,” John said wistfully. “Time as a continuous circle rather than a straight line. I’m profoundly jealous.”
“I don’t plan on spending more time here with you,” Eerie replied. “My friends are waiting for me.”
“How nice,” J
ohn said brightly. “You really are the girl who has it all, aren’t you?”
“Not really. I’ve never wanted anything more than the usual things.”
“You were never meant to have them, I’m afraid. Your life was meant to be exceptional, Ériu. Exceptional, and quite short. You have a destiny, child, and it is time to meet it.”
“I’m not a child, and that’s not true,” Eerie said. “There’s no such thing as destiny, and nothing is decided here.”
“You are wrong,” the fire said, with Samnang’s voice. “You make a decision, and everything flows from that.”
“I’m not so important,” Eerie said. “I just want to decide for myself, that’s all.”
“Everything is connected. Your actions do not occur in a vacuum, and that obligates you to choose responsibly,” John Parson said. “I realize that your fate is not a desirable one, but it is fate all the same. The Church of Sleep is roused, and nothing will prevent the next Assembly, but if you were to submit willingly, that would serve to placate them. If they cannot be suppressed, they could at least be directed. You would be saving Central and all your friends there by surrendering to the Church, I promise you. I will see to that personally, if you will only…”
“I know exactly what you want to do,” Eerie said. “You tell everyone before this over.”
“I’ve told no one, and I don’t plan to!” John Parson looked scandalized. “I’ve cultivated a calculated ambiguity for years. It is impossible to oppose someone with no discernable motivations, or so I have reasoned. Don’t make me out to be some sort of villain, Ériu. Are we all not acting in our own best interests?”
“This is stupid,” Eerie said. “Did you really think I’d just give up because you asked?”
“I did not,” John Parson said, the blackness of the Outer Dark obscuring everything but his gleaming eyes. “I assumed that I would have to make you.”
The Outer Dark rang with the gentle music of extinguished possibilities as they shattered like dropped crystal. Eerie’s luminosity diminished like gauze pulled across a lamp, and black mist swirled around her. The malevolent energy directed at her loomed like an ashen hand, twisting cruel fingers into her possible futures and suffocating them.
The Church of Sleep (Central Series Book 5) Page 8
