Great, don’t just got to worry about doing this trade, got to worry about stalling it out too.
If I gave a shit about whatever fuck-ups Vega had sent along.
If he even sent anyone at all, if I even believe that bullshit about some mystical car crash outside of Sacramento, and why is the asshole being all mysterious with what’s coming? Fucking Coyotes . . . always got to play the Trickster!
Wasn’t jonesing over possibilities like Ceinwyn does no more, but my stomach was calm, my hand was steady, and my mind focused on the task ahead of me.
Felt like pre-match Winter War.
Thirty kids working together to try to press that buzzer at the top of the Mound.
Knew what I had to do.
Trick Obadiah Paine.
Knew it wouldn’t be easy.
Knew there was no putting it off.
Knew in a few minutes I’d see Susan for the first time in, how long was it? Five years? Lost count, didn’t I?
Knew the world she saw might be quite a bit different from the rest of us.
Knew that was a fight I’d have to fight too, sooner rather than later.
Paine. Massey. Anima Madness.
And anything else that gets in my way.
“This is the place,” I said on our arrival, “pull on over all careful like.”
Nope, didn’t even get to drive to my own destiny.
No America bikini babe or Uzis either, just all alone in the backseat, with Val riding shotgun and Ceinwyn driving. At least she still ain’t some grandma only doing fifty. In the other Tsar-procured SUVs, T-Bone had Vicky, Welf was with Mama Welf, then Jesus and Pocket brought up the rear . . . cuz they like touching each other’s so much.
No RV, it stayed home in Fresno.
Odds are that Fresno won’t be home for anyone in the next few days.
Not a place or a time you want to be thinking about your future, since one wrong move will make it so you don’t have any future, but it kept intruding, the thought that even after Paine I had to deal with Massey. Don’t these fuckers know that comic book movies with too many villains end up being shit?
Obadiah Paine, always butting his ass in and making shit worse than it already was.
“You haven’t even laid your eyes on him and you’re already wearing that grin of yours,” Valentine accused me.
“Let’s hope he can’t read me as well as you can,” I told her.
She turned back around to watch Ceinwyn park, not that there were a lot of choice on where to do the job or any type of designated spot just off the highway. “Don’t worry, Mr. Price, I’ll be there to save you again,” she teased
“Probably not a good idea to make this one of our competitions, shit might get out of control we start trying to one up one another,” I pointed out.
She glanced at me over a shoulder, smirk on her own lips now. “At least there’s no Mound for you to burn down this time.”
“No mountains for Ceinwyn to drop on anyone either. Have to throw him pretty damn far to hit one of ‘em.”
SUV stopped, engine clicked off. Ceinwyn’s turn to study the both of us. Auntie Badass wasn’t smiling. Hadn’t been all day. Especially since I sprung it on her that I wanted Val with me to do the exchange. “No rewinding after this point,” she warned. “Once we step out of this vehicle we’re confirming our choice. No more foresight. No more doubts. Just action. Just carrying out our plan, such that it is. No more time for jokes or teasing or quips either. No time to waste at all. No more child’s play and even our very words must buy us value.”
“We know,” Val agreed with the mood being reset, “that’s why we’re getting it out of the way right now.”
“She’s just grouchy I won’t let her kill him right off the bat,” I tried to provoke a reaction.
Still no Ceinwyn Dale smile. Just that hard Councilwoman Dale all-knowing façade. “If I could, I would like that,” she whispered. “But we didn’t make that choice, did we, King Henry? So . . . everyone out of the car, let’s get this done and return to the Asylum with Susan Price safe and sound. Everyone knows what they need to do, so let’s get to it.”
Way we planned it—way Ceinwyn mostly planned it, with my single audible thrown into the mix—was to split us in pairs. Original version had Ceinwyn with me at the exchange and Val as our rover helping where she was needed. Changed that up, so that I was the rover and Val and Ceinwyn were grouped. My winning argument: I got a World-Breaker. Do you have a World-Breaker?
Not even Ceinwyn Dale and Moira Welf together could shatter that rock solid point.
T-Bone and Vicky were our long range guns, lightning bolts, illusions, maybe even a Care-bear sparkle blast or two. In the back, safest. Pocket and Jesus were our scouts and saboteurs, meant to point out targets for the rest and to mix it up where needed. Welf and Moira were our front line. Five Constructs will disturb anyone when they get in your face, even the Curator, even Isabel.
I was placed as full on distraction, full on defense. Val had the duty of getting Susan back to everyone else. Ceinwyn was to focus on covering her. Once they met up, both of them were to cover my retreat. Then, we all got back to the SUVs and took the fuck off. Constructs would ride on top if needed, me and Val to be placed in the last SUV to cover our retreat if at all able. Here’s hoping Vega’s bunch of fuck-ups arrive in time to at least get off a few machinegun shots.
Not that I could see anything to shoot either bullets or anima at now.
Air was cool, maybe sixty-five degrees. Sun was starting to dip. Chill wind and a hint of fog coming soon, but not now. Two lanes of highway, separated by a divider of grass so green it gave an illusion of springtime. Over on the right where we parked there was some buildings and shops, kind of sprawling area you get in Fresno a lot, car body shops, agriculture part stores, bulk vendors; blue collar shit, but on the cheap, not grand and scaled up into a full industrial factory.
On our left was a train track looked like it seen better days. Can’t say I’ve ever seen a train track looked like it hadn’t seen better days, but this one had quite a bit of rust covering it. Culprit was nearby, all that saltwater in the air. From the train track you had a beach, just not one of them picturesque beaches you get down south near LA. Hard, cold, Northern California beach. Then . . . right there, the Pacific Ocean in all its splendor.
“Don’t know how much this is gonna spread out,” I thought aloud, “But someone probably needs to keep Mary O’Connell away from our left flank.”
Ceinwyn nodded, even if she was distracted. Unlike my general survey of the battlefield she only had eyes for our enemy, an enemy that had yet to manifest itself. Few people poking in and out of them buildings, but no one looking like they were sizing us up. No other group of SUVs as of yet.
“I dislike how exposed we are,” Moira Welf gave as her greeting as she exited the third SUV in the line. Most of us had prepared for some exertion. Even T-Bone had opted for jeans over his usual khakis and wasn’t a bit of flesh showing for the other women. Val even had her peacoat on again. Not Moira Welf. Wore a dress looked like she was heading for a night out on the town. Hair all curled, makeup plastered on her face perfectly. Her . . . assets on display.
Welf matched her in a business suit, but wasn’t nearly as glamorous, even if his cane and the sword scabbard hanging from his side made him look like he belonged in the 19th century at some king’s coronation, not in Northern California. “We’re three minutes early,” he noted. “The Curator seems the kind to keep an exact schedule.”
“Nah, could’ve been twenty minutes late and he still would’ve showed up last,” I decided. Paine’s ego required him to have the grand entrance, required us to be his audience.
The rest joined us, T-Bone taking Vicky’s hand like he didn’t mean to let go of her for the next hour, while Pocket and Jesus did a little hug into a pair of shoulder punches. No pack for Jesus now, he’d pick up what he could along the way. Ain’t letting my dogs get fireballed, El Rey, no offense m
eant, Boomworm, he’d said on our departure. Way he was smelling the air, he might have already had a scent on his first potential source of information for us. As for Pocket, well . . . ain’t like he could bring a potted fern.
Truth be told, the artifacts I gave them will do more damage than either of their anima pools will. Why floromancers and faunamancers are considered Third Tier just as much as the anima ratios.
Speaking of pools, we all were filled to bursting. Had me an hour of the stuff. Plenty of artifacts too. World-Breaker filled with more. Filled with more, but turned off for the first time in hundreds of years. Had it on my left side, hidden in my geomancer’s coat. Fakeshin Dim was on my right, where I usually kept the real deal.
Being it’s got no security features, it’s gonna blaze like the damn sun the minute I yank it out. Look upon this jade dildo and know wonder!
“The man over there by that brick building is a corpusmancer,” Vicky informed us.
Probably showed how amateur we are at this shit that all of us looked directly at the guy. Probably showed how shocked he was at being found out that the man in question ran into the building.
“Big building. Could be hiding a lot of mancers in there, El Rey,” Jesus voiced what we were all thinking.
“Want us to take a look?” Pocket asked.
“No,” Ceinwyn ordered. “No one separates from the group. No one gets more than fifty yards from our vehicles. Most importantly: no one gets within twenty yards of Obadiah.”
“Except for me and Val,” I pointed out.
“Don’t remind me,” Auntie Badass actually grumbled.
Val glanced my way. “Won’t be long now.”
Reached out to take her hand, clasp it quickly. “Don’t kick too much ass, okay? At least hold yourself back enough that I can keep up. Make me look bad, well . . . man has his pride, might have to dump you.”
Got a smile. “Might be hard to suck that much, but I’ll try for you.”
Managed to steal me a kiss, even with our little group around.
Wasn’t a long one, but it was a good one.
Tend to be pretty damn good when they might be your last, don’t they?
“There he is,” Ceinwyn said.
Mood within our group changed in a flash.
That divide, that chasm of mutation I’m always talking about.
One way before.
Now different.
Kind of moment where one set of human senses slaved to the chronological grind of time just ain’t enough.
Twenty different people taking twenty different actions.
So many choices being made that hundreds and thousands of alternate dimensions are birthed every second.
“There he is,” Ceinwyn repeated, some part of her still quivering in shock despite the fact I’d told her the Curator was Obadiah Paine, despite the fact I’d told her the man who killed Amis Valet yet lived.
There he is, I thought as well.
Oh.
Ba.
Die.
Uh.
Same as he had been in that padded cell, deep in the Pit. Same professional’s suit with a scientist’s overcoat. Same blazing eyes that scream out, beg, and force the world to respond to their will, their desire. Cut, cut, cut. Same hard face, same jaw that seemed locked in place, words only formed through a considerable effort at unhinging muscles that would never yield. Same gold-plated boot and same gold-plated hand, not man at all, just machine and madness.
Yet different as well. His bandoleer with his spider-like golem was returned to sit on one shoulder, while the other bore the weight of his brown satchel filled with various instruments and murder devices. He already wore his Anima Detection Lenses, ready and waiting for any attack on our part.
Ready and waiting, but his posture and the ease at which he’s approaching tells you how in control of this situation he thinks he is.
Paine only paused for a second. Not at seeing Ceinwyn—her he ignored, her he couldn’t notice without his temper boiling over—but on seeing Moira and Heinrich Welf. And the five Constructs that just walked up to stand beside us.
Wish it was more.
Standing there now, my backup felt surprisingly inadequate for facing off against him. Eva, Annie B, shit . . . ESLED strike team sounded good right about now. So did whatever group of fuck-ups Vega sent after us. Any help at all felt extra appreciated.
Paine wasn’t alone.
Catherine Hayes stood on his right. She was pretty adult by the time she got ‘graduated’ from the Asylum, but not nearly this adult, not nearly this real. First time I ever seen her in regular clothes, first time I seen her since our days in school. Never did get to taunt her, never did get to lord my win over her, instead she just disappeared without a trace. Something in Catherine’s expression was exactly the same as her brother’s. That intensity, that need to be the best and the fury at those who blocked her path. Her whole body shook, every tall willowy inch of it, especially once she caught sight of Moira von Welf.
Moira Welf’s face in turn was conflicted, guilt and anger warring over her. Welf himself had no anger or guilt, only that sense of duty he got when he was about to do something particularly pure mega douchebag. Like try to put down his Anima Mad half-sister. Vicky . . . Vick had tears rimming her eyes and a sniffle to her nose.
Next to Catherine were the other two Queens, Mary and Teresa. Also adult, also wearing real clothes instead of Asylum colors. Middling height the both of them and attractive in their ways, if never as attractive as Catherine could manage. Was the fear surrounding both women that made them special. Fear that largely dissipated on Catherine’s kinda-sorta-expulsion, but back at full force now. No Asylum in sight and yet somehow Mary still manages to work the naughty schoolgirl look with pigtails and a short skirt. Teresa in comparison looked like a chic biker momma, complete with a leather jacket, some new tattoos, and even one of those hideous bullrings people wear nowadays.
On Paine’s left . . . was Isabel.
Isabel who never looked like Isabel.
Isabel who might not remember what Isabel ever looked like.
Or Isabel who no matter how many bodies she tries on can’t escape herself . . . not sure which is the sadder of the two.
“It’s not her, it’s—“ Vicky tried.
But I interrupted with, “I know who it is.”
Of course she’d pick Susan’s body for the occasion, same body I saw for a split second at the Ouroboros and never made the connection. Don’t think I can imagine Suze wearing something that slutty with that much skin showing though, no matter how Anima Mad she might end up being. Big Sis had always been the proper one. No idea where she got it. Maybe from my snobby ass Grandma.
Still alive by the way.
Bitch won’t ever die.
Mostly cuz the Devil don’t want to risk her taking over.
“Spread out,” Ceinwyn ordered us.
“Where?” T-Bone asked, motioning at the buildings on one side of us and highway on the other.
Wasn’t much traffic since it was later in the day and ain’t like that’s a heavily traveled piece of the country, not unless you’re trying to get from Oregon or Seattle all the way down to San Francisco and them yuppies interested in doing that probably fly over driving it. Or they got electric shitboxes like T-Bone’s except they can’t fill her up with their own finger like he can. Still, empty now or not . . . walking out on a highway seemed a pretty risky place to be having a fight.
Battle.
War.
“I have it covered,” Moira announced just as two of her Constructs leapt into an SUV each and started backing up to block traffic on one side of the highway.
“Now we’re gonna get a ticket,” I couldn’t help myself.
Only Val smiled at me. Even Jesus and Pocket weren’t feeling the humor of the situation.
Yeah, not that funny having five of the deadliest mancers on the planet not even a full football field away from you.
Plus whatev
er else he’s got in that brick building.
Didn’t like that, didn’t like it at all.
No way Paine goes into this outnumbered and right now he was only showing us what we expected him to have. Three Queens, Isabel, and himself. No Susan either. None of the names Eva recalled hearing while she cased out that dentist shop in Las Vegas neither, the one where Catherine tortured her.
He’s got fifty Wilders in there easy, maybe the full one-hundred we feared.
And he was keeping them back just now.
We spread out as planned. Two SUVs at our backs blocking traffic. Could already hear a honk and it would only get worse. T-Bone and Vicky took up position back there, Pocket and Jesus stayed closer to the third and fourth vehicle. Welfs weren’t that much further up than Vicky, but the Constructs were five in a line at my back.
I was at the center, Val on one side and Ceinwyn at the other.
Just like in court.
Just like they always seemed to be.
Paine changed course to walk out on the highway like we had, still confident despite appearing outnumbered. He whispered something to Mary and thanks to the Lenses I put on, I could see the anima flick out of her towards the second lane of highway, moments before there was a burst of water erupting up out of it.
Bit of a weapon for her and increases the size of the battlefield even more. He thinks it’s gonna be that big then it’s the full one-hundred alright.
Not good, not good at all.
“Advance slowly,” Ceinwyn told me.
“You sure?”
“We can’t risk them getting in range of the cars, King Henry,” she explained, “advance away from the others. Don’t worry, I’ll drop away at twenty yards just like I said I would.”
With us three advancing, twenty yards was on us really quick.
Just like that, everyone stopped moving.
Wasn’t quite five on three, being as two Constructs backed us up. One was Jason Jackson—Belisarius—and the other was Moira’s Winter, the big ass bald-headed one paler than even most other Constructs.
The Pit of No Return (The King Henry Tapes Book 6) Page 76
