Sins of Angels (The Complete Collection)

by Larkin, Matt

  Again, no change on his face. “You went there of your own free choice.”

  Bastard. “Because you fed me a lead about the Sefer. Thugs and drug dealers and toxic atmosphere I can handle, but now the Redeemers are here! You know what they’ll do if they catch me.” Wash away her sins. Which was code for forced indoctrination—brainwashing. All she was, all she believed, would be stripped away. A combination of drugs, subliminal conditioning, and psionic torture would destroy the Rachel Jordan that was and leave a hollow shell in her place.

  A tremor ran through her chest, and she barely managed to still it. For a moment she shut her eyes, focusing on her breathing.

  They would do that to her. People who should have loved her, should have listened to her, would instead destroy her. If she’d only tried harder, if she’d said the right thing, maybe Jeremiah would have listened.

  “This place is a cesspool,” she said at last, without opening her eyes.

  “Quasar Industries has paid you very handsomely for relics in the past, Miss Jordan. If you cannot handle this assignment, though…”

  She snapped her eyes open and rose from the bed. “I didn’t say that! But how in the holy universe am I supposed to find the Sefer with these people after me? I can take care of myself, but I’m not a soldier.” Maybe she should have asked David to teach her Merkabah. He probably would have refused. That fighting style was supposedly reserved for Sentinels. She was a decent shot with a MAG and had a few basic unarmed combat moves, but Redeemers were professional combatants.

  “Then perhaps you need a soldier, or at least a warrior to protect you,” Galizur said.

  Rachel paced. “Yeah, great. Where would I get one of those?”

  Galizur paused a moment. Was he looking at something else on his screen? “A place like Gehenna is rife with mercenaries. You have the money to hire one. If you find the Sefer Raziel, I’ll even reimburse the expense.”

  He was right, of course. Without some protection, she’d be dead or worse in days. Unless she was willing to flee. She could make it to the spaceport, maybe slip off world. Once she reached the Conduit Gate at the edge of the system she’d be home free. All she’d have to do is tell Jeremiah she’d given it all up—he might believe her. The thought made her hands shake.

  She could even try to fix things with David. If he knew she’d given this all up, he would listen. She knew he would.

  The only price would be giving up the future. Letting mankind stay where it was, mired in superstition and traditions enforced by long-absent autocrats. The Sefer Raziel could lead her to the Ark… It could change the course of history. Finally allow mankind to resume the path of advancement rather than to stagnate.

  She sighed. “Where do I find one I can trust?”

  Galizur’s gaze remained unwavering. And damn unnerving. But he was one of the top execs at a megacorp, so what did she expect? “There’s a mercenary with a reputation for efficiency in your city. Name of Ezekiel Knight. He takes jobs out of local clubs. Try the Yetzer Hara.”

  “Can I trust him?”

  “You know better than that. Use your own judgment—I’ve never met him. But reports say he’s good, if expensive.”

  Pricy could be a good sign, too. Rachel was tired of being scared. A bodyguard might make the Redeemers think twice about trying to come after her. Especially if he happened to be large and well-armed.

  “Have you made any progress?” Galizur asked.

  “I was interrupted.”

  “If the Redeemers know what you seek—”

  Rachel threw up her hands. “I know that! But I can’t find a lost relic without asking questions.”

  “Very well. But remember, your time may be short.” At that, the line cut and her screen went blank.

  And she’d forgotten to ask him about the damn MAG.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  September 22nd, 3096 EY

  In truth, I’d known the Redeemers hunted me for some time. My past with them undoubtedly placed me on their watch list, but beyond that, sooner or later word was bound to reach them of what I sought. The Redeemers are perhaps the most insidious of the seven megacorps, because they alone are not driven by profit, but by zeal. They mask aggression and a desire to dominate in the cloak of righteousness, declaring any who oppose them khapiru.

  Yetzer Hara meant something like “evil nature”. So it didn’t surprise her to find the club was an underground bunker filled with men and women who looked like they’d as soon gut her as talk to her. From the moment the airlock opened, she found herself the subject of lewd stares and appraising eyes. Even inside, the faint whiff of sulfur lingered, but honestly, she was getting used to it.

  A man passed right behind, brushing her ass in a way that could have been an accident. Of course, it wasn’t. Rachel almost choked. Son of a bitch thought he could just cop a feel? On New Rome no one would dare touch a woman like that. But she wasn’t ready to make a scene. Not quite. Instead, she eyed the punk. A scar ran down the man’s cheek. Hadn’t he ever heard of nanobot regeneration? Or maybe a backwater world like this would even consider that a violation of the First Commandment.

  Rachel strolled the room a bit, watching the crowd. Some had MAGs strapped to hips and thighs, and most had knives. Probably more than she could see.

  When she was sure she had the lay of the place, she strode to the bar. The man behind it smiled at her with bad teeth. Clearly no nanobots for him, either.

  “A shot of whatever your best is,” she said.

  He poured a small glass, and she downed the burning liquor in one swig. It was all fire and no taste. Probably something local she’d rather not know the details of. She slipped him a kesitah imprinted with a hefty amount. His eyes lit up a bit when he pressed his thumb onto the chip to check the reading.

  “I’m looking for someone named Knight.”

  The bartender smirked and cocked his head at a man sitting alone in a corner. He was young, maybe younger than her, with wavy blond hair framing his face. He wore a long black leather coat, buttoned down to his waist. For that matter, his boots and gloves were black leather, too. Nanomesh armor? A little chromatically impaired, but he had that tough-guy vibe. Still, not as brawny as she’d been hoping.

  She left the glass on the bar and strolled over to the blond man’s table, then sat across from him. “Ezekiel Knight?”

  He snorted. “Just Knight, lady.”

  Fine. To the point, then. “I’m looking for protection.”

  “Then you’re on the wrong planet. In fact, no matter what you want, this is the wrong planet.”

  If only she was so lucky. “Are you interested in a job, or was I misinformed, Knight?”

  Knight leaned forward, looking her in the eye. His eyes were gray-blue, almost silvery. “You’re an off-worlder. Mizraim?”

  Rachel folded her arms. “I can pay you in kesitahs, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “No way. Mizraim credits.”

  He wanted to be paid in foreign currency? Rachel raised an eyebrow. “How much?”

  He looked her up and down a moment, then leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “Seventy thousand.”

  Rachel laughed. “You’re out of your mind.”

  “Could be.” He shrugged. “But I’m worth it.”

  No bodyguard was worth that. “Thirty thousand. For a month.”

  “Lady, even if you were throwing yourself into the deal, that wouldn’t be enough.”

  Her mind tingled with the rising sense of his arousal. He might have been cute, but she wasn’t about to put up with a pompous ass like that. She stood. “Not even if you were paying me the thirty thousand, you greedy, over-styled lust cadet.”

  Knight spread his hands. “Maybe I am.” He pointed over her shoulder. “And maybe you’re in some deep shit, or you wouldn’t be here.”

  Three men were moving in on her. Redeemers. Dammit, she’d been too preoccupied with this little punk. How dare he treat her like a prostitute? But wi
thout him, there was no way she could fight three Redeemers. Even if her MAG worked.

  One more glance at the Redeemers. If they caught her, her life was finished. “Help me,” she said to Knight.

  Other customers had risen and were stepping aside, clearly seeing trouble coming. And expectant for a show.

  “Forty thousand,” she said, then glanced at the men. “Fifty thousand! It’s all I can get right now.”

  Knight snickered and rose, stepping between her and the advancing Redeemers.

  “Stand aside or be judged khapiru, citizen,” the Redeemer said. Same one who had trailed her from the Sheik.

  God. This was going to be bad. Rachel slipped her breather from her pocket. She had to get to the airlock. The Redeemers might well kill Knight, but right now she had to think of herself.

  Knight spread his hands and shook his head. A stun baton dropped into the lead Redeemer’s hand. The Redeemer swung.

  Knight moved so fast Rachel wasn’t sure what happened. He had the Redeemer’s arm in one hand, the other hand crushing the fanatic’s windpipe. A lightning fast turn and Knight slammed the man’s head down on the metal table with a clang that resounded through the entire club.

  Everything stopped.

  Holy shit.

  The breather hung limp in Rachel’s hand.

  Holy shit. The Redeemer must be dead. A splatter of blood stained the table when he slid off it and onto the floor.

  Then the room exploded into motion as if someone had flipped a switch. One Redeemer surged at Knight, baton in hand, while the other moved in on her. Dozens of other men and women armed themselves with bottles, chairs, or fists and joined in the chaos.

  Rachel dove under a table and scampered away from the Redeemer as he tried to grab her. The man caught her leg and then screamed, a throwing knife appearing in his shoulder. He released her, and she caught a glimpse of Knight smirking and turning away.

  Her new bodyguard leaped onto a chair, caught it between his legs, and kicked, somehow flinging it straight into the face of the charging Redeemer. Rachel pushed herself up and ran for the airlock. The Redeemer with the knife in his shoulder tackled her and she hit the ground hard, losing her breath.

  The breather skittered across the club floor. By the time Rachel caught her wind, she had no idea where it had gone. The Redeemer pounded his fist into her ribs. Agony rocked them, and she whimpered. He was too strong.

  His blood had covered her jacket, making it slick. She kicked him in the face, then slipped from his grasp, scrambling away. The man growled and extended his baton as he rose.

  She looked to Knight. The other Redeemer was down, but two of the patrons had moved in on Knight. He caught the arm of one swinging a bottle, then swung his hand like a knife, one way then the other, hitting both men. He moved so quickly her eyes couldn’t quite track him. His palm crushed a man’s nose, and then he was beside her, slamming the Redeemer into the wall.

  “Go!” Knight shouted. “Not a good place to be right now.”

  “I lost my mask! I can’t—”

  He grabbed her arm and shoved her toward the airlock. “The air won’t kill you right away. Go!”

  The Redeemer Knight had shoved rose and advanced on him. He swung the baton. Knight dodged the blow like the other man moved in slow motion.

  Rachel hit the buzzer for the airlock and it opened with a whoosh. “Knight!”

  He caught the man’s wrist and spun around under his arm. With a twist he had the man on his knees, dropping the baton. Knight’s other hand fell like a blade on the Redeemer’s neck. Probably breaking it.

  Knight stepped into the airlock with her and hit the buzzer to close it.

  The fight continued in the club. She watched it numbly through the window. “There’ll be more of them.” She reached for her MAG. If only the damn thing was working.

  “Put that away.”

  “What?”

  “The atmosphere interferes with the magnetic rails,” Knight said.

  “That’s why it jammed? This is the latest model from QI, an Endbringer Mk 3. State of the art, and you’re telling me it’s not going to fire on this planet?” It wasn’t just broken, it was useless?

  Knight turned to peer through the window outside, where a rain had started. The airlock whooshed open. In an instant, Rachel felt a burning in her sinuses. A heartbeat later her lungs were on fire. Knight seemed unaffected though he wore no breather.

  “It might work. Or it might explode. I’d put it away. Stick close to me.”

  He stepped out into the rain.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  MAGs—Magnetic Accelerator Guns—have long been the ubiquitous arms for civilians and private military contractors throughout the known universe. The design is simple, efficient, and lethal. An electromagnetic rail fires a miniature slug at supersonic velocities, capable of delivering enormous kinetic energy. And like most weapons, they are designed by Quasar Industries—Galizur’s company. It might have been nice of him to warn me they could fail so easily in the Gehennan atmosphere.

  Rachel rushed out into the rain after Knight. Her body felt inflamed, sluggish, and her vision was blurred. Rain splattered the buildings around them and seemed to sizzle off the ground, creating steam that further stung her eyes.

  With the ash-filled sky, she saw no moon or stars to illuminate the night. Only the dim flicker of street lights and glowing signs.

  “Rachel Jordan,” a voice said through the slight distortion of a breather. “Submit now for judgment or risk execution.”

  A Redeemer stood two dozen feet in front of her, stun baton pointed at her. Where had her bodyguard gone? She tried to run, but made it only a few steps before she was doubled over gasping. Trying to breathe out here was torture. She fell to her knees and raised her hands. Other Redeemers stepped from the shadows and began advancing.

  She’d almost welcome the restraints they held if they gave her a breather.

  Knight dropped out of the sky behind the Redeemer who had addressed her. He reached a hand around the man’s head and ripped off his breather, and must have hit him, because the Redeemer dropped to his knees. And then Knight was gone again, vanished into some shadows.

  “Shoot the bastard,” one of Redeemers shouted. The remaining three Redeemers pulled MAGs and began stalking the alleys, hunting for Rachel’s would-be protector. She must have suddenly seemed less important.

  One jumped at movement in an alley and tried to fire. His MAG jammed just like Rachel’s had.

  She forced herself up and made a break for the street. If she could reach the monorail, they might have breathers.

  Air.

  Air was all that mattered.

  Rapid retorts echoed from one of the MAGs, but he wasn’t shooting at her. She glanced over her shoulder in time to see Knight leap from one balcony to another, swinging under the rails like a gymnast, undeterred by the rain-slicked surfaces. He kicked off a wall and landed beside the Redeemer with the active MAG.

  The man spun on Knight and fired. And Knight moved, his head bobbing out of the way. Rachel stopped dead, facing the fight. The man had just dodged a supersonic slug. Which was impossible.

  Knight jabbed a throwing knife into the Redeemer’s eye and the man fell like a stone. Knight grabbed a pair of knives strapped to his legs and flung them at another Redeemer. The knives bounced off his armor and he kept running toward Knight, baton in one hand, MAG in the other.

  The Redeemer pointed the MAG and then cursed. It must have jammed, too.

  Rachel gasped, barely breathing. Her veins were on fire. She took off running again, every step sending lances of ice through her muscles.

  A hand grabbed her and yanked her into an alley, then shoved her against a building. She struggled a heartbeat before she realized it was Knight. He pressed a breather onto her face and activated the suction. The device whirred, and fresh air began to filter through.

  Rachel fell, almost in tears. She didn’t care how badly she’d scraped her pal
ms as she coughed the burning poisons from her lungs.

  Knight was gone again, vanished into the rain.

  The water gathered in puddles around her. The rising steam still made her eyes water. Her skin was burning. Oh, Angels above, this was acid rain. Of course it was—the entire planet’s atmosphere was toxic. That burning was her skin being corroded, along with her only set of clothes.

  She climbed to her feet and stuck her head around the corner. She caught sight of Knight disarming another Redeemer. The man fell when Knight kicked his knee out. Then Knight stomped on his head.

  The sudden, sickening crack left a hollow in Rachel’s stomach. Brutal, almost beyond words.

  What had Galizur said? A reputation for efficiency.

  “Where are you?” the last Redeemer screamed. “Come out and fight like a man!”

  At last Knight stepped out of the shadows and beneath a streetlight, advancing on the Redeemer with hands spread. “As you wish.”

  From her hiding place, Rachel couldn’t see the Redeemer’s face, but she imagined him swallowing hard. The man backed away, stun baton ready. The Redeemer tried his MAG again. Nothing happened. “Shit!” he shouted, hurling the gun away. “I judge you khapiru!” He ran for Knight.

  Knight dodged several blows like they were dancing. Lightning crackled from the baton, but it never touched Knight. He moved like he saw every attack long before it landed. Son of a bitch was toying with the Redeemer, wasn’t he?

  “Knight!” Rachel shouted. “I have to get out of this rain.”

  Knight dodged the next swing and came up under it, his fist slamming into the Redeemer’s throat. The man crumpled to the ground, grasping his neck for a breath he’d never take.

  Knight stopped at the other bodies to retrieve his throwing knives, then jogged to her. “A little rain won’t harm you too much.”

  “I still want out of it!”