Ruby Callaway: The Complete Collection

by D. N. Erikson

  Apparently the second one installed in the slums had been the upgraded model.

  Opening one eye, I found that blood was running down my arm. A lot of blood.

  “Shit.” I popped the knife out, allowing it to clatter to the floor. Slightly lightheaded, I stumbled to my feet, forefinger and thumb digging inside the wound. One chip came out, relieving some of the burning sensation.

  I crushed it between my fingertips with no small amount of satisfaction.

  Now in the hallway, vision darkening at the edges, I focused on the exam room.

  Serenity wouldn’t like that. But across the hall was another room. Hopefully abandoned. I lurched toward the door, fumbling with the knob. It groaned open, revealing a clean, antiseptic room.

  I ignored the exam table and headed straight toward the cabinet.

  Get the other chip out, dummy.

  I clawed for the glass, but pitched forward, shattering it. Must’ve hit an artery.

  That’s not good.

  I heard footsteps in the hall.

  “Goddamnit, Ruby.” Serenity, coming to save me.

  “You told me to take care of it.” My tongue felt like it was made of cotton.

  A few seconds later, a needle let out a pneumatic hiss as it plunged into the wound.

  I heard something clatter to the floor as I dropped to my knees.

  “What’s this?” Serenity’s voice swam in and out of focus. I glanced up, looking at her. She held a scalpel in one hand, her eyes covered by a plastic shield. There was a surprising amount of blood on her gloves for this being a simple operation. I wondered if all that was from me, or if some of it was Roark’s.

  In the other hand, she held the Realmpiece.

  And it was going crazy.

  “That is not good,” I said, stating the obvious.

  Then I slumped to the floor, shutting my eyes.

  Even though the barbarians were about to tear down the gates.

  31

  My first words upon waking up were, “Where the hell is my shotgun?” I glanced at the tile floor, which, much to my surprise, wasn’t covered in blood or broken glass. A quick check of my arm showed a neat bandage.

  And when I looked up, I saw Serenity staring back, scalpel gleaming with blood.

  “You really can’t be interrupting—”

  I stumbled to my feet and got my bearings. “How long was I out?”

  “Maybe twenty minutes. A half hour.”

  “Shit.”

  “You’re distracting me, Ruby.”

  “What’s his status?” Roark’s bare ass hung off the operation table. That really didn’t give me any clues.

  “The chip was installed near his spine.” Serenity glared at me, imploring me to leave her alone. “A fail-safe.”

  “Tell me what that means,” I said.

  “An extra hour.”

  “No wonder everyone complains about health care.”

  “You came to me.”

  “The Realmpiece.” I held out my hand. She just stared at me. “The compass thing I dropped.”

  She jerked her head toward a faded vinyl counter. I rushed over, finding the Realmpiece still going haywire. Next to it was a small chip, still intact.

  “You got it out.”

  “That’s what you asked for,” Serenity said, clearly not pleased about it.

  I ground it into dust against the countertop with my thumb. Then I turned my attention to the Realmpiece. It still hadn’t settled down, the dial whipping around much too fast for an accurate reading.

  Well, that wasn’t true.

  When it was this chaotic, it meant one thing.

  Run like hell and don’t look back. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option.

  Hopefully sticking behind would turn out better for me this time.

  I headed for the door. “There’s something bad coming.”

  In this world, I didn’t know what. Could be MagiTekk. Could be Marshall. Could be the Fallout Zone bastards coming to sack the city.

  But the storm was here.

  And we’d just have to ride it out together.

  “Ruby.” Serenity’s eyes were accusatory, filled with intense dislike. That was about as far as elves went. For any other creature, it would have been mouth-frothing, teeth-baring hatred. Probably flinging the scalpel at my throat.

  I brought it out in some people.

  Part of the job.

  “No matter what happens, I need you to keep working.”

  “What’s about to happen, Ruby?”

  “Just keep working.”

  “The clinic,” Serenity said, worry creeping into her voice.

  “I’ll do my best to save it.”

  “Goddamnit.” Serenity kicked the door shut with a slender leg, leaving me on the outside of the pockmarked wooden door.

  With any luck, she wouldn’t remember this tomorrow.

  Although, if we were lucky, there would actually be a tomorrow.

  Someone always came up short in war. As I walked back toward the entrance, I was beginning to think it was the good guys.

  But then, that was why there were people like me. To take out the trash that showed up.

  As I entered the waiting room, I saw what the storm had brought in this time.

  Solomon Marshall.

  And a whole damn undead army.

  32

  Serenity needed an hour.

  We had about five minutes—if we were lucky.

  Judging from the front lines, Solomon Marshall had outdone himself this time. I’d never thought he’d been a one-trick pony, but the diversity in the supernatural kingdom was somewhat astounding. In addition to the vamps I’d already seen, he had shifters, imps, wolves, trolls and even an angel.

  I watched the wisps darken above the thirty-strong group marching through the cracked streets. They weren’t quite as dead as you’d expect from a necromancer, either. I felt the auras just enough to know they’d been resurrected. But this was impressive magic that could probably trick those with less-honed intuition. Someone had clearly been woodshedding for quite a while.

  Then again, I shouldn’t have been surprised. An army like this was child’s play for a man who could manipulate time.

  I ran over to the glass entrance and locked the door. That wouldn’t do anything, but it made me feel a little better. After grabbing the shotgun from the waiting area, I beat a hasty retreat to the hallway leading to the exam rooms, passing the rickety gurney as my mind worked the problem.

  Heavily outnumbered as I was, a last stand in the open reception area would be short-lived and foolhardy. Could I eke out an hour if I made things difficult?

  I kicked over the gurney, pushing it lengthwise across the hallway. It touched wall-to-wall, leaning slightly off the floor at a tilt. Hearing the barbarians at the gates, I searched for other medical equipment.

  There was a supply closet just before the exam room currently in use for Roark’s operation.

  I shot it open, the lock splintering, and barged inside. A dim automated light responded, displaying thin steel shelves covered sparsely in supplies. Serenity’s clinic was struggling financially. I’d have to make a donation if I ever made it out alive.

  I swept the bandages and faded packs of syringes to the floor. Up the hall, from the exam room, Serenity yelled, “What the hell are you doing, Ruby?”

  “Stay inside,” I called back. “And lock the door.”

  “Who’s out there?”

  “Lock the door and don’t let anyone inside until that chip is out.”

  She must’ve understood the severity of the situation from my terse tone, because I heard a click followed by the scrape of furniture on the other side of the wall. As for me, I tipped the first metal shelf over and hauled it through the narrow door.

  The commotion was growing outside as the undead hordes tested the clinic for weaknesses. They could just charge in through the long glass windows—and they would, soon enough. But, at least for now, they were sear
ching for the path of least resistance.

  I kicked the shelf against the gurney and ran back. Just a few more minutes and I’d have a blockade ready.

  Then the first bit of glass cracked. It sounded like a rock smacking against the exterior. But there was no shatter, and I realized that, in a neighborhood like this, it was probably a little stronger than it appeared. Maybe even bulletproof.

  I smiled grimly.

  Serenity Cole had learned from crossing paths with me. Keeping the bad people out was more critical than letting the right ones in.

  I raced back to the supply closet, heart pounding. The crackling glass scored my blockade-building efforts, the panes rattling as the army pressed against the frames. And as I dragged out the last shelf, adding to the jumbled debris at the front of the hall, the entrance gave way.

  Not so much with a splintering crack, but simply a thud. They had worked one of the windows from its frame and pushed it through, intact. A feral roar immediately flooded the clinic, quite unlike anything I’d ever heard.

  Then again, I hadn’t fought many necromancers in my time.

  I racked the shotgun, looking behind me in the long hallway.

  “One hour, Ruby,” I said, feeling the shells in my pockets. There weren’t nearly enough, and I didn’t suppose that Serenity had a hidden cache of guns on the premises. With a name like Serenity, you wouldn’t, right?

  Boots stomped inside, the horde humming the same disconcerting mantra. Like a cult escaping their confines and suddenly running amok through civilization, the chant made no sense to anyone outside the in-group.

  Not that I was upset about being left out. I’d had my share of cult-like experiences down in the Weald of Centurions. Feeling part of an army and a hive mind. Probably what psychologists would call a formative experience.

  The kind where you live in the exact opposite way to escape your past. Loner to the end.

  But here I was, holed up in a clinic hallway, a few junky shelves standing between me and an army. All to buy my partner enough time.

  I would’ve gotten sentimental about it, but a shifter burst into view at the head of the pack and I fired. The diamond-studded ammunition tore through the air, hitting him center mass. There was a strangled, howling yelp and a spray of blood as he tumbled to the ground.

  The army’s mantra didn’t stop.

  I waited for them to charge, but much like in the dark field out in the Mud Belt, Marshall had them under his restrained control. The rows of puppets halted their march inside the clinic, just beyond my line of fire. Only the chant continued as I heard one set of footsteps methodically march across the reception area.

  I peered through the tangle of overturned shelves, trying to get a bead on Marshall. One good shot, and this would all be over.

  At least until tomorrow.

  But all I could see was the shifter bleeding out, staining the glass.

  “I have it figured out,” the necromancer said, followed by his signature high-pitched laugh. The army tittered with him, adding to the disconcerting effect.

  I kept my eyes focused on the tile floor and the edge of the fallen glass window. Shadows danced along its edge, the army tantalizing beyond my reach. A brief temptation to rush through my own defenses quickly passed when I considered the odds.

  Throwing myself at Marshall wouldn’t solve my problems. Even if he died, the loop would reset the next day, and we would square off again forever.

  For this to end, the loop needed to end as well.

  Which demanded more information.

  Ejecting the spent shell with a rack of the slide, I said, “Have what figured out, Solomon?”

  The laughing stopped. “Oh, you are a delightful creature.”

  “Get to know me a little and you might change your mind.”

  “But I do know you, Realmfarer.” I didn’t give him anything to work with, but I wondered how he had figured it out. The same deduction had presumably taken Roark years. As if reading my thoughts, Marshall added, “You would like to know how I did it, right?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know how I made you, too?”

  “You make it sound so noirish. Made.”

  “I’ll take that as a no,” I said, eyes still focused on the window. No one seemed eager to rush into my line of sight.

  “I have a good idea,” Marshall replied, a little smugger than I would have liked. “But I doubt you do.”

  “I can guess,” I said, uttering the words through gritted teeth.

  “The chips refer data back to me.”

  “That’s it?”

  “With a little research, yes, that is all.” The mantra intensified. “Do not be so disappointed, Realmfarer. You are extraordinary.”

  “Glad I have your seal of approval.” My gaze still focused on the shadows, but for an undead army hell-bent on revenge, the reception area remained shockingly orderly. But then, if you hid out in a time loop, discipline came with the territory.

  I shivered. Only Marshall’s pure will was holding them back from tearing this place down to the studs.

  “You could join me, Realmfarer.”

  “I think you’re doing just fine on your own,” I said. “MagiTekk R&D.”

  “Beautiful.” At least Marshall didn’t lack for modesty. The necromancer was clearly a fan of his own work.

  “Is that what they’re calling domestic terrorism these days?”

  “Casualties are necessary.” Heavy breathing. “But then, you understand that, Realmfarer.”

  “Don’t tell me what I understand.”

  “You are correct,” Marshall said. “You have no idea what is going on.”

  “Enlighten me.”

  There was a hesitant sigh on the other side of the blockade. After a little hemming and hawing and pacing, Marshall said, “You are open to an explanation?”

  “Sure,” I said. My gaze was focused on one shadow in particular. The only one that seemed to move, disappearing from view only to reemerge.

  With sweaty fingers, I adjusted the shotgun, resting it on a tilted shelf.

  I just needed for him to step out.

  “I do not like to talk about myself,” Marshall said, suddenly feeling shy.

  I wasn’t buying it. “I saw your speech.”

  “The one they play every year.” The words were bitter. “But none of my recent work.”

  “Recent work?”

  “I mark the anniversary with a reminder.”

  “What kind of reminder?”

  “I reanimate one of those responsible.”

  The governor’s shouted words to Administrator Warren on the first day came roaring back to me. His outburst hadn’t been hyperbole. I understood how the killing part alone would be alarming to the general populace.

  But seeing them reanimated was another level. It challenged the fabric of society itself, the bedrock institutions that people had relied on for years. Amidst the towering concrete jungle, I hadn’t noticed many cathedrals or churches.

  Faith was in short supply these days. Everywhere, it seemed.

  “You are impressed,” Marshall said, the statement more of a probing question. It dawned on me that this was a recruitment drive. Roark would obviously be impossible to win over, but I was still a wild card.

  Or so he thought, in his hopeful, vengeance-addled brain.

  “Maybe,” I said, playing it coy. “Tell me about your relationship with Roark.” When he didn’t answer, I added, “Colton.”

  “You are stalling as you remove his chip, strange one.”

  Not good. We were backsliding from Realmfarer—practically a first-name basis in lieu of an actual name—to impersonal monikers.

  “I prefer Ruby,” I said.

  “If you are not interested in my cause, then simply say so.”

  “We’re just talking.”

  “That is all anyone does.” Marshall’s voice took on a harsh tone, and his chanting army responded in kind. “There is no action.”

  “I th
ink we’re getting there.”

  “One chip could have been a mistake.” It sounded like he was now talking to himself. “Perhaps I had gotten the enchantment wrong. This time loop is not my magic, I thought. Mistakes happen. Even to those like me.”

  “This isn’t your loop?”

  Marshall steamrolled past my question. “But then the other chip within your wrist goes out minutes later. That’s too much coincidence. And so I check the logs.”

  “You don’t say.”

  “And you and Colton are at a clinic. Working together.”

  “Just like you wanted when you bound us.” There was a long silence, filled only with the faint breaths of the ravenous army. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”

  There was no laugh. “I realized that one of you was alive and aware. It must be the strange one, I said.”

  “I’m flattered.” I felt inside my pocket for the shells. Not enough. History was repeating itself, twenty years later. Instead of a last stand, I needed to keep stalling. “How’d you know it was me?”

  “Because Colton has not made this much progress in almost a year.”

  I didn’t have a response locked and loaded for that one. Today had lasted for almost a year? It defied the mind’s capabilities of understanding to fathom everyone reliving the same motions without knowing.

  Conscious without being aware at all.

  I opened my mouth to respond, but then I saw it.

  The glimmer of silver hair and a pale arm. Here was my opportunity.

  I gave my answer in lead—or diamond and silver, courtesy of MagiTekk.

  Marshall screamed.

  And then the dam of willpower broke, all that vengeance and disappointment pouring forth as his horde charged the blockade.

  33

  I scrambled backward, pumping shots at the suddenly enraged army. Chaos now ruled where order had reigned moments before, the creatures stampeding over one another to be the first to remove my head.

  The shotgun’s spread pushed against their advance, but they had more bodies than I had ammo. I popped my final shell into the chamber and aimed at a vamp who was yanking on the first fallen shelf. His efforts were inefficient, but he was strong enough for it not to matter.