by Jak Koke
Perhaps it could take away the pain. Perhaps she could regain her power.
Lucero’s spirit stopped rising, encased in the tornado of power created by the Gestalt, swirling green and electric blue above her. She stopped and began to descend again. Back toward her body.
Perhaps I am still alive.
As she fell, she saw her body grow closer and closer. She could not possibly have survived Oscuro’s attack with the macauitl sword. Her body lay on its side, splayed like a fresh kill, her guts and internal organs a gelatinous heap next to it. Her runic scars rimmed in her own blood one final time. Oscuro’s doing.
The cut in her gut was extremely clean, like a precision surgical incision. Oscuro knelt over her entrails, hands buried to the elbows in the slippery mass of her intestines. Her liver, stomach, kidneys, and lungs had been cut away and set around her disembodied heart, which still beat in sputtering, dry spurts from the aorta.
Oscuro said some words over her corpse, and though Lucero could not hear them, she heard their intent. “I summon you, Lucero Debil. From all that remains, I draw you back.”
Lucero’s blood flowed backward, the droplets flying through the air from where they had landed. The spray reversed itself, a condensation of life energy that coalesced over the mound of internal organs.
What is he doing to me ?
A sickening sensation oozed over her, and she fought to get away. Ignoring the severe pain, she struggled to push up through the tapestry of mana that the Gestalt had woven above her. She pushed with all she had left.
It was not enough.
Her spirit sank slowly, inexorably, back into the blood and guts that had once been part of her. As her spirit appeared in the physical world, shackled into this manifestation by Oscuro’s horrid magic, she smelled herself. Stench and vile repugnance, like vomit and sewage and death combined.
He means to keep me as a blood spirit.
She stood there in front of Oscuro. Seething. Wanting to tear him apart.
He was her summoner, however, and he controlled her with his magic. She was bound to him, and forced to obey.
The crowd had gathered to watch, and now Lucero saw their spirits, their auras instead of their bodies. She saw them all hypnotized in front of her. Vacancy in their intent. Vapid resignation.
Lambs, the lot of them. Waiting for slaughter.
Hatred flooded her. The agony of her death had dwindled a bit, though her nerves still held a persistent edge of pain as though someone had flayed all the skin from her body. And when she looked down at herself, she saw that she had no skin. She was merely a mass of coagulated blood, intermixed with leaking intestines and internal organs that floated inside her like chunks of meat in an animated stew.
“You are now bound to me, Lucero Debil. My ally.” Oscuro’s expression was pure glee. “My slave.”
Lucero could not deny the power and authority of his words. She knew them to be true. She was his slave, now and until his death. As she thought this through, she grew more and more angry.
Snatched from the gates of freedom to this existence of servitude. What she was repulsed her. How could she exist like this?
Lucero lashed out in anger, suddenly and with awesome force. She could not harm Oscuro, but she could kill others. They would pay for their happy, petty existences. Their pathetic lives of simplicity.
Her attack manifested as a huge arm of blood that threw six people into the air and smashed them down onto the Locus. Kill them, she thought. Kill them because they mindlessly obey the will of Oscuro. Kill them because they are not in pain. Kill them because they are not me.
Kill them all.
Lucero lashed out again and again, slaughtering dozens of innocent, pathetic metahumans. Spilling their blood on the Locus, adding life energy to it. She knew what Oscuro was doing now. The blood mana would channel into the metaplanes and lengthen the bridge. With the Locus and the Gestalt and the thousands of metahuman sacrifices who were gathered around, the end would soon be here.
She hated everything now. She hated what she had become. She hated what she was doing, despised that she had failed to reach Thayla’s light and absolve herself. She hated that she was helping bring the tzitzimine.
Her hatred drove her to kill. Which she did with abandon. And when she was exhausted and could spill no more blood, her hatred festered inside. But around her, the killing continued to the heavy beat of drums.
An organized mass genocide.
25
Ryan carried the exhausted body of Jane Foster up the circular stone stairs into the central room. Grind had asked the cook to prepare something, and the smell of it filled the chateau and made Ryan’s stomach grumble. Garlic and mushrooms and hot bread, perhaps pasta. Ryan couldn’t tell exactly what it was, but it smelled fragging good.
Foster had awakened for a minute, announcing her failure to find Harlequin just before collapsing into a heap. Talon had examined her aura, had cast a hea! spell on her and had declared her stabilized. That she would be all right after she slept for a while.
Ryan set her down on a burgundy sofa that faced the fireplace, then propped her head up on a pillow. “Sleep well,” he whispered to her. “You are a tough fragger.”
The elf in ninja silks came running into the room. His name, Ryan recalled, was Slider. “A helicopter is approaching from Marseilles,” he said.
Ryan held up his finger, indicating for Slider to wait. He subvocalized into his throat mike. “Jane, is that Nadja and Aina?”
“Yes, Quicksilver.”
Ryan looked at Slider. “We’re expecting them,” he said. “Please tell Cluster to let them land, I’ll be out in a moment.”
Slider nodded and was gone again.
A few minutes later Nadja and Aina, along with a contingent of eight secret servicemen, disembarked from a Hughes Airstar that had landed just adjacent to Dhin’s craft.
Nadja rushed into Ryan’s arms, her black hair blowing in the fierce wind from the helicopter blades.
He held her tight, drinking in the smell of her.
Aina came behind her, tall and well-muscled, of indeterminate age. There was something about her physical presence that had been absent over the telecom, a subtle difference that sent a shiver of fear through Ryan. He rarely felt afraid.
What is it?
She was no doubt a powerful mage like Harlequin, though that was hard to tell from her aura. Her power didn’t affect him, however; it was something else. An element to her aura that Ryan had seen before somewhere.
“Ryan,” Nadja said. “This is Aina.”
Nadja’s tone snapped Ryan back. “Thank you for coming,” he said.
“Studying auras can be unhealthy,” Aina said. “But just so you know, I have dealt with Corruption and its ilk before. I may know them better than anyone still alive.”
This woman has been exposed to the Enemy. And survived.
“Now, I want to help my friend,” she said. “I’ve searched a few places with no luck. I'm hoping that I’ll be able to pick up the trail from here.”
“Come this way,” Ryan said, leading the way into the chateau and down to the ritual chamber underneath.
Axler and Talon greeted them at the door. Axler was calm, if a little edgy from the lack of action. Talon’s face showed lines of fatigue and strain. He was obviously distressed that he had been unable to help Harlequin.
Aina entered the room, probing the chamber with all her senses. Assensing. “Please leave me,” she said. “I have work to do.”
“Of course,” Ryan said. “But you should know that we will be departing the island soon. We have to try to contact the spirit Lethe, then repeat the ritual of bringing the Dragon Heart to the bridge. Nadja and the guards will remain.”
Aina stepped into the ritual circle and knelt beside Harlequin. She did not look up as she spoke. “Very well.”
Ryan gestured for Axler and Talon to vacate the chamber, which they did. Talon first, carrying a small pouch of talismana, follow
ed by Axler and the arsenal she carried.
Aina reached down and ran her finger tips along Harlequin’s skin, and she sang in a soft voice that sent a prickle wave over Ryan’s skin when he heard it.
Ryan followed Nadja into the stairwell and up. “Thank you for bringing her,” he said. “I hope this doesn’t strain your chances of getting her on the Draco Foundation Board.”
Nadja took his hand in hers as they walked back up toward the main room. “The DF Board is meaningless if this doesn’t work,” she said. “Besides, when I told her what happened she insisted on coming.”
When they stepped into the huge glass-covered living room, the smell of dinner nearly overwhelmed Ryan. In an adjacent room, the servants had set out a sumptuous meal. Ryan followed his nose to the dining table—a massive hunk of furniture made from a solid piece of red marble. It was laid out for ten with elegant settings of polished antique silver.
Grind met them just inside. “We’re almost prepped to eat,” he said. “Foster is still sleeping, but everyone else is famished.”
Ryan subvocalized into his throat mic. “I want a strategy meeting over dinner,” he said. “Jane, you ready?”
Jane’s voice sounded in Ryan’s ear piece. “I’m go.”
“Axler, Dhin, Talon?”
Three affirmative responses came over the tacticom.
“Good, let’s get this done.”
Nadja squeezed Ryan’s hand. “I’ll let you do your work,” she said. “I need to make a few calls of my own, track down a few people.” She leaned into his embrace, kissed him softly.
“I’ll come and see you before we head out,” he said.
“I know you will; you have to see me. You have no choice.” she said.
Ryan smiled, giving her a sidelong look. “How do you know? It’s true, of course, but how did you know?”
Her dark lips curved into a smile. “It’s a woman thing.”
Then she laughed and turned away, followed by her group of secret servicemen.
Two minutes later, Talon. Axler, and Dhin had joined Ryan and Grind in the dining chamber. Through the tacti-com, Jane was virtually with them as well. The appetizer course consisted of escargots and baguettes. It was followed by lamb and potatoes exquisitely seasoned with garlic and basil.
As they ate, Ryan spoke to them. “We have an extremely dangerous run coming up. Perhaps the riskiest we’ve ever undertaken.”
Ryan paused to chew another bite of food. “Talon, this concerns you especially, because you need to decide if you want to continue with us. Everyone else is in, I assume.” He looked around the table at the attentive faces of his team. And as he came to each, he got a nod of assent.
Talon put his fork down. “Not knowing anything about this run,” he said. “It’s hard to know if I want to go or not, but I do know one thing; you are the finest team I have ever worked with. I like what you are doing. I like why you are doing it, and I believe I belong here.”
“I hope so,” said Dhin, “cause the last couple of spell-slingers bit the big bullet.”
Grind laughed. “Yeah, we haven’t had the best of luck with magic types.”
Ryan quickly interrupted. “I won’t drek you, Talon. Assets uses its magical talent to the fullest. You will occasionally be in danger of losing your life. But this is true for everyone here. We’ve all come close to death. With that said, however, we’ll always be watching out for you. We take care of our own.”
Talon smiled. “Count me in.”
“Good,” Ryan took a few bites of his lamb before continuing. Then he spoke to them about San Marcos, about the Locus and the masses of people. He told them of the tight security and the heavy mojo going down around the Locus and the step pyramid temple.
“Jane is working on finding out exactly which room Lethe is being kept in,” he said. “But meanwhile we have a number of problems to overcome. One, we have to get over the border and into Aztlan. Two, we have to infiltrate the San Marcos site. Three, once we find the target, we have get back out alive, across the border, and onto safe ground.”
Jane’s voice sounded in Ryan’s ear. “I just finished making the arrangements with Cluster’s fixer.”
“Excellent.”
“They’ve agreed to do a run into Aztlan. I’m releasing them from your location now. They’ll travel to Houston, CAS and wait for instructions.”
Grind looked over at Ryan. “It sounds like you’ve already got a plan.”
Ryan nodded. “Just a tentative sketch, but it’s something to work with.”
“Let’s hear it,” said the dwarf.
Ryan took a sip from his water glass. “The idea is that two teams come in separately. Cluster and chummers blow something up and generally wreak havoc while we secure Burnout. That way we keep one step ahead of the security forces, keep them turning around in circles, trying to figure out what’s going on.”
Axler pushed her plate away and looked at Ryan. “I’ve got an idea for getting in,” she said.
“Yes?”
“Night drop. Military style, HALO—high-altitude low opening. It’s silent, stealthy, and will be more effective in getting us over the border and inside security. Problem will come with getting out.”
Talon looked up. “Nightgliders,” he said. “We can use ultralights to fly back out.”
Ryan nodded, taking the last bite of his food. “Could work.”
Axler gave Talon a cold look. “Can you handle a night drop and a flight out in enemy territory?”
Talon nodded. “I love skydiving, and have logged a lot of flight time in ultralights. As far as enemy territory goes, you should remember that I live in Seattle.”
Axler’s ice broke, and she smiled. “Touché.”
“Jane,” Ryan said. “Can you get us the equipment we’d need? Dhin can help you with a list.”
“Where should we base our assault?”
“Someplace with an airstrip but no people. An old, deserted USA military base on the CAS side would be ideal. What about Carswell Air Force Base?”
Jane’s voice came back enthusiastic. “I like that idea. It’s run as a smuggling operation, but I’ve got contacts there. I’ll see what I can turn up.”
“Good.” Ryan pushed his chair back and stood. “We'll prepare here. I want everyone ready to roll in two hours. I want to drop tonight. The time differential gives us about four extra hours, but even so we’re running out of darkness. We go even if Harlequin hasn’t recovered by departure time. We need Lethe, and we’ll come back here with him.”
The others stood as he walked out. Ryan stepped across the large central chamber and through the vestibule. He crossed the courtyard garden, intent on seeing Nadja before it was time to go. The sky grew yellow and orange overhead as he reached Nadja’s helicopter.
One of the secret servicemen standing guard turned and knocked on the door as Ryan approached. Nadja’s face appeared in the window, then she opened the door and climbed out.
“Take a walk with me?” Ryan asked.
Her smile was all the answer he needed.
He offered his arm to her, and she slipped hers through it, allowing him to escort her across the flagstones, tinted rose from the dying sun.
Ryan led her up a short set of stairs and onto the masonry wall that ran the perimeter of the small island. The sea wind blew cool and clean through her hair, and she gave a sigh of relief as she walked up ahead of him.
It nearly broke Ryan’s heart that he had come to say goodbye once again.
The setting sun came into full view as they walked around the east curve of the island, farthest from the chateau. A huge disc of the deepest orange, burning the clouds crimson.
Ryan stood with his hands wrapped around Nadja’s slender frame. Her arms hugged his chest, her hands clasped behind his back.
The red light flushed her face as the sun dipped into the silver-blue water of the Mediterranean Sea. He put his lips against hers, soft and wet, a warm kiss. She blinked, a slow-motion flutt
er of eyelashes, her emerald eyes staring longingly into his.
He lost himself to the embrace, letting the sensation of her body against his wash over him. He never wanted to forget this moment. He wanted it to last, forever unchanging.
Then the last arc of the sun sank into the sea, its orange rays flickering to green for a split second. Gone, the sky fading from red to the deep blue of night that followed the sun inexorably to its watery grave.
Nadja was running her hands up and down Ryan’s body now, his back, his chest, his abdomen. Moving down toward his crotch. She stopped as her hands passed over the bulge of the Dragon Heart, tucked into its sash.
She gave a little laugh as she rubbed it. She leaned in, putting her lips next to his ear. Whispering, “Is that a Dragon Heart in your pocket, or are you just glad to see me?”
Ryan could hold back no longer. He kissed her neck, his hands traveling down her back, running over her slender hips. So tight. His fingertips following the natural curves of her body. Onto her front, smooth skin of her belly and up over the gentle swell of her breasts inside her blouse. Soft, sensitive.
In the growing darkness, her hand brushed his crotch. Her lips sealed over his.
He wanted her.
She pulled back slightly. “How long until you have to go?”
“I wish I didn’t have to,” he said.
“How long?”
“About an hour before I have to start serious preparations.”
She smiled, her tongue running over her teeth. “Plenty of time,” she said. “Come on, there’s got to be a guest bedroom in this place somewhere.”
Ryan laughed, then adjusted his pants so he could follow without too much discomfort.
26
The ritual chamber in the basement of the San Marcos teocalli flickered in the torch light as Lethe watched the eif mage, Meyer, and two others prepare for the ritual magic that would banish him. Lethe could almost smell the magic forming in the thick air, like soapy incense.
Meyer dribbled blood from a tiny bladder covered in animal skin, tracing an elaborate circle around Billy’s body, which had been shackled into the stone floor with titanium straps. The other mages inscribed runes and symbols into the blood circle. One was a human woman with dark skin and black hair. She wore a temple robe, and looked to be a priestess of Quetzalcoatl. The other was an ork man, who drew symbols with chalk, hulking down awkwardly in his corporate suit and tie.
