“Don’t neglect your post,” Marcus said, but his heart wasn’t in it.
Tucker stared him down for a long moment before turning back to face the wilds.
“Maybe you’re right,” Marcus admitted.
Then he heard footsteps. Marcus raised his gun to his shoulder. Its stock felt cold against his skin even through his hoodie.
“Don’t shoot, please,” a feminine voice called from the wilds.
Marcus sighed and lowered his weapon. He shared a look of relief with Tucker, who had drawn his pistol.
Molly rounded the corner. Marcus almost picked his rifle back up.
Tucker’s head jerked back when he saw her. “I thought you were dead.”
Fear took Marcus suddenly, and he looked carefully at her eyes. In this lighting, and with her on the other side of the room, he couldn’t tell if her eyes were green or blue, but they definitely weren’t black. He breathed out another relieved sigh.
Molly walked forward like she was about to enter Harpsborough, but Tucker stopped her, holding his rifle up sideways as a barrier. “Miss, I don’t know if you’re allowed in. What you did to Graham was pretty bad.”
“Take me to Klein,” Molly ordered. “Tell him I wish to confess.”
Arturus lay in a tiny alcove that was barely large enough for him to wedge himself into. Aside from its claustrophobia-inducing confines, his hiding place was well chosen. Both Galen and Aaron had said they couldn’t see him from the room beyond. Arturus was nearly at the level of the twenty foot tall ceiling, and the height gave him a good vantage point to shoot down into the room. The light grey color of the solidified stone floor would also help him by making the darkly dressed soldiers of the City of Blood and Stone stand out. If things went badly during the firefight, though, there would be no easy way out.
He was going to have to worm his way forward and drop headfirst towards the floor, something he wasn’t looking forward to even if everything went well and their enemies were defeated, so he shuddered to think about attempting a retreat in the middle of a shootout.
His shotgun lay against his right side, caught between himself and the stone, while he held his pistol at the ready. Since Galen, Kelly and Aaron would be mixed in with the enemy, a shotgun would be too dangerous to use—not that he would have been able to aim the bulky weapon in such close quarters.
Arturus took in a few deep breaths to steady himself. With each breath, he could feel his chest pressing into the cool rock.
He heard voices. At first they were too quiet for him to make out, but they grew louder as they grew closer.
Be ready, Turi.
“Yes,” said an unfamiliar voice. “We’d caught one, too, though she was nowhere as pretty as yours. One of the purple robed bitches. I’m telling you, if you need to take them, it’s not that hard. You just have to belt their pelvis down. They can’t get ya if they can’t move their hips.”
Arturus felt angry. Kelly’d been hurt enough.
“Don’t know that I’ll take my chances on that,” Galen said.
“Jarvis here likes to cut ‘em too,” the voice went on, getting louder as it got closer, “one deep line along their left side—”
“Right side,” another voice corrected.
“Whatever, I’m sure it doesn’t matter which side, but it should keep your pecker safe. Don’t know why you’re such a pussy about it, Jarvis. Why bother cutting ‘em, just break theirs before they break yours, right?”
Arturus felt blood rushing into his head.
I may actually be looking forward to shooting these people.
The unfamiliar voices continued talking, but for some reason, they had stopped coming closer. Hopefully they were still coming into this room. If not, Arturus wasn’t sure how he was going to coordinate his attack with Galen and Aaron.
What could they be doing?
Arturus couldn’t fathom why raping a woman would satisfy a man. It seemed somehow to be missing the point. If you weren’t getting love from it, why not just work everything out on your own? But then, he couldn’t fathom why a man would work with demons either.
Just hang on, Kelly. We’ll kill them quickly.
“But to answer your question,” a voice was saying, “those harpies are nasty. There are about six or seven dens to the east. They don’t listen to Crassus or even One Horn. They killed a couple of our men last week, that’s why we steer clear of ‘em. Makes getting back a hell of a deal. Can’t wait until we dig out Tu-El. He’ll fuck them up for not doing what One Horn told ‘em.”
“You already dumped your priestess?” Galen asked.
There was some laughter, and Arturus gauged the echoes, guessing that there should be at least ten of the enemy.
This is going to be tough.
“Dumped whole loads in her,” another voice said. “But yeah, dropped her at Cul’ Nahedran. She wasn’t in very good shape, though. Them priestesses ain’t used to not being in control . . . and she sure as hell wasn’t ready for Jarvis.”
There was some more laughter. “She damn near bled to death.”
I’m sorry, Tamara. Even you don’t deserve this.
“Didn’t talk though,” said another. “Stubborn little bitch.”
“Why aren’t you all still with One Horn?” Aaron’s voice asked.
They still weren’t getting any closer.
Come on!
“We got in a firefight out there, man. They gave us the slip. One Horn said they actually went into an aqueduct, one that the ancients built. He said it would take him a couple of days to get in, but that he and his dyitzu would hunt them down after.”
Suddenly gunshots were ringing out. They sounded like Galen’s MP5 and another weapon of some sort. Maybe a pistol. Arturus switched his safety off and pointed his weapon towards the entrance.
There was the shout of a man in pain, another gunshot, and then silence.
“Holy shit, Galen,” that was Aaron’s voice. “Why in the fuck?”
“Gather their weapons and ammo. Be quick. Kelly, unlock yourself.”
“Yes, Galen.” Kelly seemed distracted.
“Galen,” Arturus’ father announced moments before poking his head through the entrance to Arturus’ room. “Get down from there. We’re moving out, now.”
“What happened to the plan?” Arturus asked, squirming forward so that his torso was hanging free in the air.
He lowered his shotgun down to Galen.
Galen grabbed the weapon. “No time. They said it would take the Minotaur two days to get into the aqueduct.”
Arturus dropped to the ground, trying to cushion his fall with his arms. It worked, sort of. He rolled over to his side as he fell, but he still felt like he had bruised his hip. He stood up and accepted his shotgun back. “And?”
“Turi, we’ve been here for two days.”
So if the Minotaur was two days behind us, then . . .
“Oh shit,” Arturus said.
“You have any idea what this is about?” Graham asked Martin as the pair mounted the stairs leading up to the Fore’s parlor.
Martin noticed that Graham’s dark hair was a tangled mess and that his stubble was only a couple days short of a beard.
I’m not really a sight to behold at the moment, either.
Katie had hardly wanted to look at him after the bruising he’d received from the Kyle-thing. He touched the swelling under his right eye.
“What’d you say?” Martin asked.
“You know why we’re here?”
“The Carrion breach, I’m guessing.”
“Don’t see what there is to discuss,” Graham said. “Fill it. What’s the big deal?”
The big deal is that we just watched a fuck ton of undead walk through that hole. The big deal is that there might be more of those Kyle-things out there. The big deal is that I had to fight that damn monstrosity while you were out there nursing your balls.
“Guess we’re about to find out,” Martin said as they reached the third
floor landing.
They entered the parlor room. Its lavishness always disturbed Martin for some reason. The couches and seats, covered in earthen hued blankets, would not have looked out of place in an old world mansion—except for the fact that they were made of stone. Guns hung on the wall, many of which might still serve the hunters of Harpsborough well. Michael’s push-fed Winchester Model 70, for instance, could do a lot more good in the hands of a hunter than it would gathering dust on the Fore’s wall.
Michael and Mancini sat across from each other, Michael in his favorite chair and Mancini on the couch. A chess board was set up on the woodstone coffee table that was between them, the pieces in their starting positions.
The light orbs were particularly bright today. Martin almost wanted to put a few more blankets on to dim them, but this wasn’t his home. Besides, Davel Mancini, Harpsborough’s brewer, was notorious for liking the darkness, and Martin could stand to see the guy looking a bit uncomfortable.
Mancini had dark circles under his squinting eyes. Martin thought it was fitting that a deceitful snake like Mancini would be bothered by the light.
And he probably wouldn’t have those headaches if he wasn’t plotting his little brains out all the damn time.
“Have a seat,” Michael said, his voice grim.
Martin would have felt uncomfortable sitting next to Mancini, so he hung back until Graham took the middle of the couch.
“Some bloodwater?” Mancini asked.
“Please,” Graham answered.
Martin nodded, sitting down next to Graham.
Mancini clapped his hands. The young boy, John, entered the Parlor room at the summons, coming in through the curtains that led to the balcony.
“Bloodwater,” Michael told him.
“Yes, First Citizen,” John answered. He even gave a little bow.
Martin watched the young boy walk across the room to where the wine sat on an end table. The glass decanter clinked against crystal glasses as John poured the four of them bloodwater. The liquid was so bright it almost looked like old world Kool-Aid. They always had the good stuff here in the Fore.
Martin felt his mouth watering.
John passed out the glasses. Mancini and Michael absently swirled their bloodwater as they received their drinks. Graham was copying them. Martin took a swig. The sting was pleasant in the back of his throat, and he felt the bloodwater’s comforting burn as it made its way down to his stomach.
Martin leaned forward, glass held tightly in his right hand. Soft blankets shifted beneath him as he did so. “You called us here?”
Michael frowned. “I did. I have to ask you to do something, something I don’t want to ask you to do.”
Graham rubbed at one of his eyes. “I thought this was about the Carrion barrier.”
Mancini leaned back into the couch, swirling his bloodwater as he crossed his legs. “It is.”
“It’s too dangerous to leave open,” Michael said, setting his glass down next to the chess board. “And, it’s also too dangerous to close.”
“We can close it, sir,” Graham said. “You saw how fast we bricked up Julian’s.”
The memory still hurt Martin. That was the day he’d known they’d lost Aaron. Aaron had been a good leader, Aaron had taken care of him, Aaron had opposed the Fore’s hoarding even though he’d benefited from it, and Aaron had been a damn good fighter.
He wouldn’t have shut the fuck down in the riverbed when fighting the corpsemen like I did, that’s for sure.
Mancini shook his head. “Julian’s opening was only a few feet wide. We’re talking about an entire barrier here. It could take days to seal that thing.”
As usual, the bastard was right.
“Did Copperfield refuse to help?” Martin asked.
“No,” Michael answered. “I thought he’d be afraid, too, but he’s volunteered to go and help mix the mortar on site. With Rick and Galen gone, he’s one of the only people left who knows how to do that.”
“Who else?” Graham asked.
“Chelsea.”
Martin and Graham shared a look.
I’d take her ass over Copperfield any day of the week.
“So it’ll be a little longer,” Graham said. “Give us the hunters. We can survive a day or two without hunting. It’s not like we pull in that much meat these days anyway.”
We bring in plenty. You didn’t bring in jack shit.
“We’re worried about risking so many of you,” Mancini said, though his voice sounded remarkably unconcerned.
“He’s right,” Michael leaned forward and rubbed the back of his head. “If another column of corpses comes through, we could lose you. And Martin, you know Hidalgo reported that there were hundreds of harpies heading into the Carrion at the end of those columns. That’s why we want Graham to scout around the area on our side, make sure no more are coming.”
Martin felt Graham shift on the couch beside him. “Not a problem, sir. I’ll take my collectors.”
Michael leveled his gaze on Martin. “But there’s another direction trouble could come from.”
You’ve got to be kidding me.
Martin swallowed. “The Carrion . . .”
“That’s right. We want you to take a small crew and scout the Carrion.”
Martin felt his testicles drawing up to his body. He stood quickly.
“A small group, Martin. Just to make sure we can repair the breach safely.”
“Aaron went in there. Aaron. And he’s dead. I’m nowhere near as good a hunter as he was.”
Mancini nodded. “You’re not.”
Thanks for agreeing with me, asswipe.
Michael gave Mancini a sideways glance and then stood up, grabbing Martin’s shoulder. Martin was surprised by how strong the grip was.
“You don’t have to be as good as Aaron. You’re just going a little ways. Not far in at all. Aaron had to find Julian and a cache of devilwheat. You just have to make sure there isn’t an army hiding within earshot of the breach. If those corpses decide to turn around, if those harpies come back, well that’s a force that all of Harpsborough couldn’t face. That’s why you have to do this. That’s why you have to wall them in.”
“I say we just build the wall,” Graham said. “We can skip the scouting.”
Michael turned his back on them and walked to the balcony’s door curtain. He stopped before it. “Too much noise. If there is a dyitzu pack, or some hounds, or an army of harpies and corpses, they’ll be drawn to you. We can’t have you start until we’re sure it’s clear.”
Martin could see a sliver of the world beyond through the crack in the curtain over Michael’s shoulder. Harpsborough was out there. Katie was out there.
God, I could use her support about now.
“Alright,” Martin said. “I’ll get some guys together.”
“Let Huxley lead the normal hunting,” Mancini suggested. “He’s capable.”
But Huxley’s one of the best we have!
“I need Hux with me,” Martin said.
“We’re still in a famine,” Mancini shot back.
Michael turned away from the curtain, holding up a hand. “Choose who you need. Take the best men you can find. But do it quickly. We have no idea what dark things are crawling in from the Carrion with that barrier down.”
“Aye, sir,” Martin said, glaring at Mancini.
“That’s First Citizen,” Mancini corrected. “If you’re going to be a Lead Hunter, you need to make sure you follow protocol.”
I want to punch that man right in the nose.
“Protocol won’t do me a lick of good in the Carrion,” Martin told him.
Michael looked lost in thought, his eyes staring towards the wall. “It won’t, Martin. It won’t.”
Aaron, why’d you die on me?
Father Klein looked back over his shoulder to see who had entered his church. Two hunters stood in the open doorway, flanking a woman—it was Molly.
“Bless you, child,” he bre
athed. “You’re alive.”
She walked into his church. The hunters stood awkwardly behind her.
“You can go,” Father Klein told them.
They looked hesitant, probably remembering what this girl had done to Graham. Was it possible that she had come in to the church to reap her revenge? Unlikely. You had to corner Molly to get her violent. Her anger, when it overflowed, was usually self destructive.
Besides, if she tries to get me like she got Graham, she’s going to be in for a shock.
“It’s okay,” Molly assured the hunters. “I’ve come home. It happens sometimes, people lose their way. But then they learn. They humble themselves. They come home.”
Bless you, child. Can this be true? Can Molly really have turned her soul around?
Father Klein nodded and the hunters closed the church’s double doors behind the girl.
Molly began the long walk down the central aisle of the church, the shadows of the crucifix-filled windows rolling over her body. She had lost a lot of weight, Klein realized. Had he been anyone else, he’d have found her tempting.
Father Klein moved to the center aisle to meet her. Molly stopped before him and knelt.
“Father,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry, Father. When last we spoke I said terrible things. Things that didn’t belong in your church. Things which didn’t belong in me. And I wish they hadn’t been inside me so that they wouldn’t have had a chance to come out.”
Can she be telling the truth? What could she have left to lie about?
“Father, I wish I could say that I stopped doing wrong the second after I attacked Graham. But I’m through with lying. When I crawled out of the river, I kept doing wretched things. I traveled. And when I got so far from myself that even I knew I was going wrong, I remembered what you had said to me. You said that I could come and confess. That I could tell you the truth about what had happened in those conversations between myself and Cris. I’ve come to tell you that now. And I think it’s better, because even if I had told you what I thought was the truth before, it wouldn’t have really been the truth—because I didn’t really know what had happened—until now.”
March till Death (Hellsong Book 3) Page 2
