Anastasia marched forward, and Mai followed slowly along behind her.
Mateo Navarre looked around apprehensively, and then disappeared.
Renton seized Egill by his neck and smashed his forehead into Egill’s nose. He pushed his knife into Egill’s belly, and it went in so smoothly it was like returning it to an oiled holster. Egill cried out pitifully and his head fell on Renton’s shoulder, blood dripping from his broken nose.
Renton stabbed him again and again, until the tip of the knife broke off against Egill’s pubic bone and the blade stuck in a mess of intestine and severed tendons.
Anastasia seized Gaul by his thin shoulders and threw him, sending him crashing through the manor wall, his bones breaking against the masonry and wood.
Anastasia followed him, shaking with rage and weeping.
“I thought that we understood each other.”
“I understood you,” Gaul said, pulling himself slowly from the rubble. “That is why I did what I did.”
Anastasia dragged her umbrella through the exterior wall as she walked, and the wall tore and fractured. She cut through one supporting column after another, and the roof of the manor began to list, the whole structure groaning alarmingly. She whipped her umbrella through the corner of the house, just above where Gaul lay, and the whole wall gave way.
The house fell in, burying them in rubble.
“You were a fool to turn on me,” Anastasia said, not even the dust settling on her black dress. “That betrayal cost you everything. Why did you do this?”
She reached her arm into the wreckage and fished around briefly, her arm passing through stone and wood with ease. She pulled Gaul from the rubble by his collar and dragged him to the entrance, draping his body across the wreckage of the porch of his ancestral manor.
She leaned in close, to make certain he was still breathing, and was surprised to find his eyes open behind the broken lenses of his glasses.
“I had to do it,” Gaul whispered. “I’m sorry for what I’ve done, and for what is still to come, but it was the only way to stop you. You will fail, Anastasia. Central will never be yours. You will see. You will understand.”
“I loved my father,” Anastasia said, pushing the tip of her umbrella into his chest. “But I will dedicate your death to my poor beloved Pascha, who deserved better than a death by your petty scheming.”
The umbrella sank intangibly through his chest and into the rubble he lay prone upon.
Gaul Thule opened his mouth, but nothing except for a trickle of blood came out.
Anastasia let go of her umbrella and it became a solid reality in Gaul Thule’s chest.
Tissue was displaced and bone was splintered to accommodate the new mass. His body shook and deformed.
Donner streaked past Anastasia as she wiped her hands on her skirt, the Weir intent on worrying the throat of the dead man.
She stumbled slightly, walking from the manor, but then Renton was beside her, offering his arm and stability. Anastasia clung to him gratefully, barely able to remain upright.
“Their heads, Renton,” Anastasia said, leaning on him heavily. “I want all of them, for my father’s grave. Burn the bodies. I want nothing left for their burials.”
“You got it,” Renton said. “I’ll make certain it is done.”
Her surviving retainers gathered at the gate of the ruined Thule estate, forming an honor guard around her as Renton led her to an intact wing of the manor, discreetly supporting and guiding her.
Mai was arguing with medical attendants, insisting that she required no aid, despite the jagged white edge of a splintered femur that protruded from her leg. Daniel Gao stood nearby his sister while she ranted at the medics, meticulously cleaning the blood from his hands with a purloined towel.
Neither remarked on their adopted father, Lord Gao, burnt to charcoal and covered by rubble, amid the ruin of the minimalist garden. Not far from the dead vampire, Blitzen lay in the dust beside the porch, broken as horribly as the masonry in which he was partially buried. Lord Gao was burnt to charcoal and covered by rubble, not far from the dead Weir, amid the ruin of the minimalist garden.
“See that they are brought back with us,” Anastasia murmured. “Blitzen to the family mausoleum, and Lord Gao to his family. With full honors.”
“Of course,” Renton said. “You don’t need to worry about a thing, Ana.”
“What about Simeon and Matheus?”
“We lost them,” Renton said. “Sorry, Ana. I’ll see that their remains are gathered.”
They were nearly to the car when Daniel Gao ran up to them and dropped to his knees beside Anastasia.
“My apologies, Mistress,” he said, putting his head almost on the ground. “You were left to claim your own revenge.”
Renton wanted to push past him, a snarl on his lips, but Anastasia came to a halt, regarding her suitor.
“It is true that I dealt with Gaul Thule,” Anastasia said, doing enough to conceal her exhaustion that only Renton was aware of it. “I am not displeased, however, by my servants’ efforts. The battle was quite a distraction, but did I not see you kill Lóa Thule, my enemy, and the sister of the man who slew your father, young Lord Gao?”
Daniel Gao nodded without raising his eyes higher than Anastasia’s shoes.
“We have dead to bury and titles to bestow,” Anastasia said, raising her voice so that everyone in the small crowd of Black Sun retainers could hear her. “I would be remiss, however, if I did not address the death of the Thule Cartel, and what it means for you, those of my servants loyal and wise and skilled enough to have seen it done beside me.”
They all waited in still and respectful silence while the Mistress of the Black Sun gathered herself.
“Everyone who aided in this effort will be rewarded. No kindness will be forgotten in our victory, as no insult was forgiven in our vengeance. I will see all debts paid, and all accounts settled. With that in mind, Daniel Gao, if you please.”
Anastasia gestured to Daniel, who moved forward, standing before her in clothing still spattered with gore from the field.
“You succeeded in completing my request, at least in part, Daniel,” Anastasia said thoughtfully. “You dedicated yourself persistently to your task, and you had greater success than any of my servants.”
“I fell short of my mark, Mistress. I meant to present Gaul Thule’s head to you on a platter.”
“You did well nonetheless. You put an end to Lóa Thule, the architect of the plot that took the lives of my father, and my brother, and so many other dear friends.”
Daniel Gao made no reply.
“As you said, however, you left Gaul Thule to my servants and I, despite your best efforts, and thus fall short of matrimony,” Anastasia said, looking him over speculatively. “You understand, of course.”
“Yes, Mistress,” Daniel said. “I understand completely. I do not deserve such honor.”
“Perhaps. But you deserve a promotion, at least, I would think.” Anastasia pinched her lip, then slowly nodded. “Yes, I think it will do, young Lord Gao. Are you prepared to become my steward, and my representative to the Assembly?”
“Of course,” Daniel bowed. “I would be honored.”
“Yes. Being a woman of propriety, there is little else that I can say in this public venue.”
Daniel Gao gave her an uncertain look, and she forced herself to smile, because he deserved it.
“You must still prove to me that you are capable, Daniel. I also believe we have a great deal to learn about each other. However, if you are so inclined as to attempt a courtship, Lord Gao, then I would not reject your entreaties out of hand,” Anastasia said. “As far as that goes.”
Daniel Gao gave her a sudden, sharp nod, but no words at all.
“I will thank all of you more fully and appropriately when we have returned to my estates and my family is laid to rest,” Anastasia said, taking Renton’s arm for support. “Search the estate thoroughly. Interrogate them, but l
eave no one alive.”
Renton led her inside the damaged manor, guiding her carefully around broken floorboards and collapsed walls. He took her down an undamaged hallway, Black Sun troops running ahead to clear the rooms. He followed the staff to the end of the hall, to a study that had survived the conflict unscathed, save for a shattered window.
Renton laid Anastasia on a couch. He closed the door, pulled the curtains closed, and then found a throw pillow to prop up her head. He took off his jacket and covered her with it, and then sat on the floor beside the couch.
“You are upset,” Anastasia said quietly. “Is it because I gave your job to Daniel?”
“I hated that job,” Renton said. “I’m no diplomat. It’s a relief.”
“Then perhaps you are disappointed that I did not announce our engagement?”
“Sure, but that’s the sort of disappointment that I’m used to,” Renton said, forcing a good humor he did not feel. “I try and be at least a little realistic.”
“I would have done it, Renton. I want you to know that, propriety and station be damned. If you had killed Gaul for me.”
He was acutely aware of the sound of the wind whistling through the broken window, the curtain rattling against the window frame. He could hear the footsteps of the Black Sun Operators on the floor above, the crunch as doors were kicked in and the faint shouts as rooms were cleared.
“You were the only one who I thought really might be able to do it,” Anastasia said, closing her eyes. “You were the only one I took seriously.”
Renton tried to laugh, but nothing happened. His face felt stiff and inflexible, like his features had been replaced with an immobile plaster cast.
“So, what then? You just marry Daniel Gao because he finished off Lóa?”
“Not necessarily, but he deserves consideration. Unless you think that I should marry you out of gratitude for killing Egill Johannsson?”
“No. I don’t deserve it,” Renton said. “You didn’t have to fire me, though.”
“I didn’t just fire you,” Anastasia said. “I’m firing you and demoting you.”
Renton said nothing, staring at her helplessly. She cracked one eye to glare at him.
“What are you doing just sitting there on the floor? Is there really nothing better that you could be doing?” Anastasia frowned. “You need to be more proactive if you want to be my bodyguard, Renton. It is a demanding job. Or have you lost your taste for it?”
“No,” he said, standing quickly. “No. I haven’t.”
“I would have done it, if you had taken his head for me,” Anastasia said, settling back and again and closing her eyes. “You failed, however, and that failure left me with few options that allow you to spend your days where you belong. You should show some appreciation for the effort I put into keeping you at my side. You are the most troublesome of my servants, Renton.”
He fixed his hair and straightened his suit in the mirror, doing the best to hide the bloodstains on his shirt and cuffs.
“I understand, Ana,” he said, heading for the door. “Sorry to cause you so much trouble.”
“You should be sorry,” she said crossly, yawning. “You only get away with it because I am so terribly fond of you.”
Thirty
Day Seven
“I should have known you weren’t dead,” Alex said, rising slowly with a hand on his back. “Can’t say I’m upset, though. I wanted to take care of you myself.”
He took a step toward Alistair and nearly tripped over a body. A woman with red hair, dressed for the field, a rifle in her limp hands. Her throat had been cut.
Alex did not recognize her, but he recognized one of the other bodies.
A science teacher from the Academy that Vivik had introduced him to, once upon a time. He could not remember his name, but his Van Dyke facial hair was instantly recognizable.
There were more bodies. One bore the distinctive face paint the Black Sun favored, while another had a vaguely familiar face. The rest Alex did not recognize.
“You’ve been busy,” Alex said.
“Just killing time. I stumbled across the Black Sun troops when I first got here. That patrol out of Central showed up a little later. The ginger I think was just trying to get across campus.” Alistair smirked. “Life’s shit, ain’t it?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Alex said. “Yours is nearly over.”
“Am I supposed to be afraid? No matter what the Changeling told you, this is going to go the exact same way as last time,” Alistair said, tossing his knife nonchalantly from one hand to the other. “Unless you have any friends hiding around here that I need to kill first?”
“I haven’t forgotten about Margot,” Alex said. “I have more important things to do, but what the hell.”
The air grew cold as he spoke, the lawn was withered by a sudden frost, ice collecting on the corpses scattered about them.
“It is such a cute little trick,” Alistair said. “No local Ether, no protocols. But what does that change? I don’t need telepathy to kill you, Alex. I’m going to take a lot more than an eye and a few fingers, this time.”
Alistair glanced around.
“Where is your girlfriend anyway? I almost feel sorry for her,” Alistair said. “She’s in for a rough time. The Church only cares if she’s alive.” Alistair rolled up his sleeves. “Do you want to know what I’m going to do to her, once you’re gone?”
“You won’t be around to do anything,” Alex said. “Bastard.”
He activated the Absolute Protocol, willing a deep tear into the Ether.
Alistair grinned and waited, his hands in pockets.
Nothing happened.
“Anything else you wanted to say?” Alistair laughed. “Nothing? Too bad. You were being such a tough guy a second ago.”
Alex tried desperately to activate his protocol but could not feel the mechanism in his mind at all.
It was as if it had disappeared, leaving him reaching into an empty space.
“If you’re done, then I do have something I’d like to share,” Alistair said, raising his hand. Shining Cloud.
Alex had time to blink.
Then he was eviscerated by a million tiny razors.
There was blood and agony. The blades tore through him on a cellular level, slicing skin and bone and organ with equal ease. His extremities were reduced to a spray of a gore, while his head and torso were perforated, punctured, and severed all the way down to his skull and teeth.
He felt each new path the flechettes pioneered through his viscera.
It was pure and perfect suffering, unimpeded by any outside awareness or concern.
Alex laughed, or he would have laughed, if he had an intact diaphragm and unpunctured lungs, and a mouth to laugh through.
Except he did, because his body was entirely intact.
The scene reverted instantly. Alistair stood in front of Alex, frowning and looking somewhat offended.
“That mind-trick shit won’t work on me,” Alex said. “You’ll have to fight me for real.”
“I can do that,” Alistair said, drawing his knife. “You’ve caught my interest, though, resisting my telepathy. How’d you learn to do that?”
“Time-dilated psychic torture from a Yaojing in the Outer Dark,” Alex said. “How does anyone learn anything?”
“Funny,” Alistair said. “Samnang Banh did a real number on you, I guess.”
“I’m starting to think that maybe that was the point.”
“If you think that Yaojing was trying to help you, then you are even stupider than your reputation,” Alistair said, moving closer. “She isn’t even human, you know?”
“Whatever,” Alex said, taking a neutral, flexible stance. “I’m used to that.”
Alistair smirked as he moved, closing the space between them with impeccable footwork, each step putting Alex in a worse position.
“You don’t say,” Alistair said, taking a short knife from a sheath on his belt. “I was thinki
ng the same thing.”
Alex blinked hard, like it had suddenly gotten brighter.
Alistair feinted, thrusting high with the knife, and then moving toward Alex’s weak side when he tried to sidestep.
Alistair slashed at Alex’s stomach, not really committing, allowing Alex to leap back out of range.
Alex resumed circling, retreating as Alistair advanced.
“You don’t get it, do you?” Alex’s eyes shone like headlamps, wet with stimulants and exhaustion. “This won’t go the way it did before. I really want to kill you, this time.”
“Keep on talking,” Alistair said, making a first quick feint. “Might as well get it all out, since these are your last words.”
“My last words to you, maybe.” Alex grinned. “I’m ready this time.”
Alistair advanced suddenly, keeping the tip of his blade pointed at Alex’s navel. He thrusted and Alex parried, stepping inside of the strike and knocking his arm aside.
Alistair followed with a left jab that connected with Alex’s ear. He slashed Alex’s chest and the tip of the knife bounced off the ballistic shielding. Alex grabbed at his wrist, and Alistair stepped back, driving his elbow into the back of Alex’s neck, and then landing a knee on Alex’s stomach.
He grabbed Alex by his hair as he stumbled, pulling his head back.
Alistair unleashed a telepathic attack as he went for Alex’s exposed throat.
Alex grabbed Alistair’s arm and twisted, so that the knife only scored a deep line across his bicep. Alistair issued a telepathic command as he brushed Alex off him.
The Anathema took a quick step back with a curious look on his face.
“You’re getting it now, aren’t you?” Alex said, putting his hands up high. “I’ve expelled all the Ether from the local area. No protocols, no transformations. Just you and me.”
From the way Alistair’s eyes were distant for a moment, Alex guessed that he was confirming his words.
“So what?” Alistair said, resuming his stance, the point of the knife tracking Alex’s movements. “Remember the last time we did this? It ended badly for you.”
The Church of Sleep (Central Series Book 5) Page 79
