by Jody Wallace
Holy shit. The room was full of wraiths, and they had several drawers open.
They were dragging out dead bodies. Ripping off black bags. Eating flesh. Something. How could they…?
In all Zeke’s years as an alucinator, he’d never come this close to barfing in the middle of a battle. He knew wraiths drank blood, ate flesh. But not this. Not zombies or monster crocs or velociraptors or any of them. Their hunger had never, to his knowledge, included dead bodies.
The creatures were so preoccupied with the deceased, ripping them apart like they were searching for morsels, that not a one of them came after the only living, sentient being in the room. Him.
Was he hallucinating? Too much sand? Zeke rubbed his eyes. His fists were coated in sand, so it made the stinging worse. His vision swam. Ten or twelve wraiths converged on the body of a man they’d dragged out of a black bag. They dove into it like jackals. Within moments, it seemed as if the body were gone. Eaten. There was no more body. The wraiths, unsatisfied, began wrenching open drawers.
Zeke backed out of the room and slammed the thick, hopefully secure door. The touchpad beeped three times, and the indicator switched to green, but the thin, faint alarm of the unlocked morgue drawers continued.
This hadn’t happened in Harrisburg. The bodies left behind by the wraiths had been all too recognizable.
Roberts and what remained of unit fifteen had dispatched the wraiths outside the morgue. Two tended their fallen comrades while one radioed for help. Roberts approached Zeke with anger on his face. “Why did you close that door? This is the only room we haven’t cleared.”
“Get reinforcements and code one Adi.” Bile coated Zeke’s tongue, along with the scent of wraiths and their dust. God, what he really wanted was a curator to come handle this so he could take Maggie and go home.
“You don’t think we can handle a couple wraiths?”
Zeke just waved him to the door. Roberts peered through the small window. Since Zeke had hit the lights, the guy could see the carnage for himself.
After a moment, he turned from the window, so green Zeke could see the tinge in his mahogany skin.
“That shit ain’t right,” Zeke said.
Roberts promptly requested backup and Adi.
Zeke promptly headed for trauma and Maggie.
If these idiots thought Maggie was the one responsible for the corpse-eating wraiths and had treated her like a felon, he was going to beat some human ass tonight too.
The bandaged wound on Maggie’s finger throbbed in time to the wail of the siren. The soldiers and doctors had confined her to a holding cell for the time being. A man in the next room was tranced into the dreamsphere to ensure she didn’t pop in and open any new conduits. Another searched desperately for the malingers they believed she’d created, accidentally or otherwise.
They had reason to be concerned. When Maggie had clawed her way out of the sphere, she’d brought a passel of vampires with her. Five living.
Two dead.
Nobody would answer how that was possible—how wraith remains hadn’t collapsed into dust. Nobody would tell her whether Zeke and Adi were all right. Nothing she said about Karen Kingsbury’s presence in the dreamsphere seemed to make a difference. Everyone knew Maggie had gone into the sphere, and everyone knew she manifested. She’d been in the cell since they’d stitched her up, guarded like a criminal.
If the manifestations didn’t stop, the next logical step would be to use the ECT on her.
She just wished they’d stationed a guard inside the holding cell. A wraith could manifest inside and attack her before anyone could get through the door. She didn’t have a dagger, sword or anything to defend herself with. Wraiths weren’t terribly impressed with her keen debating skills.
Bleakly, she eyed the metal table in the center of the room and the folding chair she thankfully wasn’t chained to. She could use the chair as a shield or a swatter, she supposed. The table—she pushed it experimentally—was bolted to the concrete floor. She had no hairpins, jewelry or other innocuous items to convert into screwdrivers and take the table apart.
A year ago it would never have occurred to her to search an area for weapons.
A year ago her parents had been alive and her abilities as an alucinator had lain dormant.
Maggie rested her head on the cold metal and hunched her shoulders around her ears, tired of the siren’s wail, the purple lights, the waiting. Tired in general. Her psyche and self were drained after her experience in the dreamsphere, the wraith attack, and her twenty-four-plus hour day.
Would Adi and Zeke allow her to be ECT’d? Did they believe she was weak? So sleepy. Her body felt as heavy and immovable as a…big metal table bolted to the floor.
The next thing she knew, she was being konked on the back of the head.
“Wake up, disciple.” Her guard had entered the room and jabbed her with the barrel of his gun. When she reacted slower than he liked, he poked her again.
Maggie flinched and raised a hand to rub the bruise. Her ears buzzed a little, and the man’s voice seemed muffled. “I’m up, I’m up.”
“What the fuck?” said another voice she recognized.
Two seconds later, the guard was mashed against the wall, Zeke’s arm at his throat, cutting off his air. The gun clattered to the floor and happily didn’t fire. Zeke was shorter than the soldier—Zeke was shorter than a lot of the soldiers—but his ferocity and street-smarts made up for his stature in combat situations.
He appeared to be unharmed. Maggie hoped the relief trickling through her at the sight of him acted as a stimulant, because she wasn’t sure how much longer she could remain awake.
“What are you trying to do to my student, shoot her execution style?” Zeke growled. Maggie had no trouble hearing him. The sirens were off. No purple lights outside, either. When had that happened? “Is that what they’re teaching up at HQ these days?”
The soldier choked out a response and pulled Zeke’s arm. The young man’s mesh gorget didn’t protect him from being immobilized, even if Zeke couldn’t slash the guy’s jugular. When Zeke trapped her in that position during training, she bent his pinkies and kneed him in the balls. Or tried to. Maybe the soldier knew not to bother…or not to piss off a sentry any more than he already had.
“I asked you a question, soldier.”
“He was waking me up,” Maggie said. Did Zeke really expect the kid to answer when he could barely breathe? The soldier looked about the age of her Geography 301 students. “I dozed off.”
Zeke transferred his glare to her. “What the hell are you doing letting yourself fall asleep without me? You’re not phase two yet, and you can’t barricade yourself.”
She yawned, not on purpose. It answered his question. “Sorry.”
“Sir,” the soldier managed. “Following orders. Keep her awake.”
Zeke let the guy go with a puff of disgusted air. Her guard rubbed his neck and sheepishly retrieved the dropped weapon.
“Get out,” Zeke said. “And sign up for more hand to hand. You suck.”
Zeke’s throat was protected by a gorget, too, and his protective vest was coated in wraith dust. Weapons hung all over him. Apparently, Adi had decided he could be armed during the code one, and the wraith dust explained what he’d been doing since she’d last seen him.
Killing monsters.
“He probably didn’t want to get in trouble for fighting a superior.” Maggie arched her spine against the chair in hopes of popping it. Slumping on the table for a little shut-eye had done a number on her back. “Leave him alone.”
The guard shot her a startled glance, as if surprised she had empathy for anyone. If they assumed she was creating the monsters, they might also assume she was psycho like Karen Kingsbury—cold and murderous.
Zeke had held that cold and murderous woman tenderly in his arms in the dream
sphere while she’d warned him Maggie was going to be used by the wraiths.
Karen had been right. The creatures had poured through Maggie’s unshielded dream body, just like two months ago. She didn’t know how many of the wraiths attacking the facility were her fault.
A few of them? All of them?
The soldier slid out the door and shut it behind him. It sealed with a clunk and beep. Now she, Zeke and Zeke’s weapons were locked in together, which was preferable to being locked in alone and weaponless.
“What’s going on?” Maggie asked. The cell had a security camera in the corner. Considering Adi’s desire for confidentiality, she didn’t know what they could discuss. “Is Adi hurt?” Another yawn interrupted her. “Is that why everyone’s so upset?”
“Everyone’s upset because we’ve got a code one.” Zeke made no move to approach her, though his gaze burned as he inspected her. Something about his expression—maybe it was the way he stared at her mouth—reminded her of what had happened between them in the SUV. “We’ve lost some people.”
“Oh, God. I’m so…” She’d been about to apologize, as if it were her doing. Maggie rubbed her cheek to stop herself, yawned, and rubbed her eyes. If anything, the catnap had made her exhaustion worse. “How many wraiths? I saw several when I first came out.”
“I don’t know the exact count.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the observation window. “Stand up.”
“What?”
“On your feet.” He jerked his chin at her. “Twenty jumping jacks.”
She groaned. “I don’t want to.”
“I could insist on push-ups.”
She opted for jacks. It would invigorate her, get her blood going. She started jumping, swinging her arms, falling into the pattern. Stupid shoes for this, loafers. Stupid dress pants, stupid, stupid bra. Her chest bounced uncomfortably. She reduced the height of her jumps rather than grope herself on camera with the ever-useful “hand bra”.
Zeke watched, eyes hooded. She realized he was focused on the area that concerned her as well.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying this,” she said, proud she wasn’t panting.
He raised an eyebrow. “Looks painful.”
She reached twenty, shook out her arms, walked across the room, and punched him in the cheek. It was a weak, poorly-angled uppercut, but his head snapped into the wall with a thunk.
Because she was mad, it didn’t hurt her knuckles.
It didn’t hurt Zeke and his iron jaw, either, but that wasn’t the point. Zeke fended off more punches—unnecessarily, because she’d never try for another lick now that he was on guard—and stared at her like she’d sprung a new head.
Maggie sat back down, feeling mulish and immature.
“Nobody will tell me anything,” she complained. “I’m not a newbie. I triple locked my conduit while we were tranced and shut it when I left. I thought I did. I haven’t tried to reenter the sphere to check. Have you…” She pushed her hair out of her face, grabbing it like Zeke did his own, and tugged the top to wake herself up more. “Have they found any malingerers? Or another source of conduits?”
She and Zeke had been asked to come to Wyoming to verify the status of Karen Kingsbury, convicted mass murderer and crazy person. That was public knowledge, yet Maggie seemed to be the persona non grata here. She could understand taking precautions since a mass of vampires had tagged along when she’d exited the sphere, but the guards who’d been protecting her and Zeke had handled it. They’d leaped into action, dispatching the vamps. She’d thrown herself across Zeke, who’d been unconscious. Within moments, another pack of soldiers had dragged Maggie away, rushing her to trauma for stitches—and to this cell.
After that, she’d known nothing. The sirens had wailed and people had run back and forth outside the observation window.
“No conduits were connected to our target.” Zeke’s lips thinned. “She came out of the coma. She’s viable again.”
Maggie shot to her feet without being ordered to. “What? And they think I’m the one who—”
Zeke shook his head, tight and suspicious. Perhaps not suspicious of her, but he didn’t want her talking. “They’re investigating. The code one is over. Whatever conduits existed have disappeared. And there were a few other developments.”
“Wraiths came through when I woke,” she said.
“I know. Five.”
“And two dead ones.”
“You dusted some?” He gave her a thumb’s up. “Good job.”
“You misunderstand.” Actual wraith bodies weren’t something Adi had been secretive with them about in their handwritten notes, because they weren’t something anyone could have predicted. It should be safe to tell Zeke about it on camera. “Two wraith carcasses in Whedon vampire form manifested along with five living ones. One had a bashed in head.”
“Two wraith carcasses.” He blinked, processing her words.
“Completely dead. They didn’t turn to dust. They just…laid there. And oozed. The soldiers hustled me off to the infirmary, so I don’t know what happened after that.”
“Weren’t any carcasses when I woke,” Zeke said. “I don’t like this.”
“I’m not a fan myself.” She wanted to tell him she might have been the one to slay the wraiths in the dreamsphere—like the bellatorix in the Antipodes scroll he’d mentioned. Who could forget the broken-egg sensation of her foot driving into the monster’s skull? The sucking ache of its brain matter? The unholy scream? No one could injure wraiths in dreamspace, whether the alucinator was asleep or tranced.
Had she managed it?
Could Karen?
Maggie desperately wanted to know what it meant before she admitted what she might have done. She needed to find out about that scroll. Quietly. There was already too much suspicion directed her way, and she didn’t know how much of the blame for today’s outbreak was hers.
“Wraiths staying solid after death. I wonder if that explains why the other ones were eating corpses?” Zeke mused.
“They have an appetite for flesh and blood,” Maggie said, not sure why he didn’t know. “It’s their way of feeding on humans’ life force. But they don’t seem to require those things to sustain themselves, which doesn’t stop them from eating whatever they can get their mouths on.”
Different wraiths tended to go after different parts of a human’s body. Zombies, clearly, went for the brains. Vamps for the blood. Were-animals for the guts. Slime monsters for extremities, and so on. It was believed this was because dreamers expected their creations to behave in certain ways. Just as an alucinator’s brain gave physical form to the monster, it also influenced the monster’s behavior.
“They eat living people or people they killed themselves,” Zeke said. “They don’t eat corpses. Down below, in the cold box, the vamps were ripping into body bags and chowing down on the stiffs.”
“Are you kidding?” She corrected herself quickly. Zeke was hardly ever kidding. “Did you witness this?”
“Saw them devour an entire body until there was nothing left.” His gaze, for the first time, slid away from her to stare at something close to the floor.
That explained the hint of sallowness in his skin tone. Well, that and the industrial fluorescent lights everywhere.
A light tap sounded on the door, which Maggie thought was superfluous considering this was a holding cell. There was no need to ask a prisoner’s permission to enter.
But it was Adi, not a hostile soldier. The vigil entered briskly and shut the door behind her.
“Are you well, Maggie? I was told you were injured.”
With the large, shatterproof observation window and the camera, there would be no secret notes passed among them to explain what was unsaid. At least Adi wasn’t toting an ECT, which presumably meant she didn’t believe the facility invasion could be traced directly to Maggi
e.
Either that or the invasion was over, so there was no longer a need to shock her conduits closed.
“I’m okay. Thanks for checking on me.” She held up her bandaged hand. “Four stitches. The first overnight collaring mission I had to go on with Zeke, I got twenty-five in the arm, so this was nothing.”
The manifested wraith that had sliced her on that mission had torn a nice, curly scar above her elbow. The others had teased her about getting it tattooed into a snake, back when they’d been friendly with her. Back before she’d become the neonati to spend the longest amount of time in phase one in history.
“Did you visit the morgue?” Zeke asked Adi.
“Yes.” For a moment, Adi looked older, and almost as tired as Maggie. “We have to notify some next of kin that the funeral arrangements will need to be closed casket. A large number of our dead were mutilated, and several cannot be accounted for at all.”
Maggie pressed a hand to her stomach. “Were the wraiths staked?”
“All but three,” Adi said. “They’ll be transported to another facility for study.”
Maggie shivered, thinking about the fact there were living wraiths in the building at this very moment. Considering the tendency of manifested wraiths to come after her, it wasn’t a comfortable feeling.
“I guess whatever the dead ones consumed turned to dust when they were dispatched?” she asked. “So you can’t prove…I mean…which one ate what?” The theoretical physics behind the matter conversion that took place during wraith consumption wasn’t a class for neonati, but wraiths didn’t eliminate waste. Once they themselves were wasted, autopsies couldn’t be performed on dirt and sand. That was all that was ever left of them no matter what they’d done while they’d been alive.
Until now. Maggie waited to see if Adi would mention it.
Adi re-secured the end of her long braid. “The remaining wraiths in the morgue died the standard way. We didn’t expect the creatures to molest our dead. Nor did we expect what Maggie manifested. Zeke, has she told you about the wraith carcasses?”
