What did interest Leigh Feld was mission briefings. She found their bullet-pointed conciseness appealing, and Emily Muir created the very best she had seen, meticulous in her research and judicious with what she shared. Admittedly, Emily always embellished her mission briefings with a giant heart and handwritten wishes of good luck, like a housewife putting notes into her children’s lunches. The vampire never would have admitted it, but the appeal of Emily’s high-caliber mission briefings had played a significant role in recruiting her.
Leigh Feld was not into facts for their own sake. She did not care about looking smart at parties or impressing her friends at trivia night at the pub. Leigh enjoyed functional information.
The briefing for this mission had reminded her that the tenets of the Agreement precluded most fortification of structures within Central – meaning the estate she was visiting today lacked any sort of gun emplacement or defensive weaponry. Even razor wire was verboten, so a high stone wall and a reinforced door was about the extent of what was on offer.
Security had no choice but to either open the door, or hide inside forever. Leigh thought she probably could have knocked it down, but healing aside, punching a solid and stationary object hurt. The vampire did her best to be patient, instead.
Apparently, the people inside were doing the same. Leigh tried to spot the ghost of the sun trapped behind Central’s permanent cloud cover.
You sure they aren’t calling for back up, Emily?
They can’t, dear. We cut them off a few minutes before you arrived. Do you need help getting in?
Negative. Just checking.
I’m on the job, Leigh. Not to worry.
Leigh ended the conversation with a grimace, sizing up the door.
She did not bother to hide her relief when they chose that moment to open fire. Leigh Feld did not put much stock in appearances.
There were three security guards waiting on the neat lawn on the other side of the door, worn croquet paraphernalia littered haphazardly about, the relics of a game that had been abruptly abandoned. Her mission briefing had only discussed two guards, but then, this was the field.
The woman to the right was Mercedes Rojas, per the briefing, a pyrokinetic who liked to get close. She had ten years in the field for the Thule Cartel, and the scars to show for it. Her fingers emitted thin streams of smoke as she came forward.
The man to the right with the archaic double-barrel shotgun was Kay Harris, an empath without much experience in the field. Intelligence suggested that he worked primarily as an interrogator. His presence suggested to her that the Thule Cartel did not have sufficient staff to protect this facility – and made her concerned for the treatment of the people she had come to collect. She did not share that detail with Emily, out of prudence, but there was an excellent chance that Emily was watching the whole scene unfold telepathically.
The man standing between the Thule Operators was unfamiliar, with a moderate gut and brown hair with a sprinkling of salt and pepper. The collection of little scars on his hairy knuckles and the backs of his hands suggested that he had spent a great deal of his time hitting people, but his ruddy face was factory issue, even his prominent nose unbroken.
If Leigh had to guess, then she would have guessed that he was the physical half of an interrogation team, but Leigh Feld was not much for guesswork.
There are snipers, Leigh dear.
Where?
Leigh’s eyeballs moved in her head unbidden, and for a fraction of a second, Leigh felt queasy. Her eyes flicked to two different positions; behind a near hedge, holding a Garand knockoff with a tactical redo and glass; a window at the second story of the estate, spotter in tow, the muzzle break approximately half the size of Leigh’s head.
No chance of an apport?
I’m afraid not. There are so many apport technicians working at the moment, the Ether is incredibly agitated. I’ve never seen anything like it. We can pick you up after, but…
Fine, fine. Better this way. Too easy, otherwise.
That’s the spirit! Just so you know, Leigh, the spotter is a telepath. He’s been rather persistent, trying to get into your head.
It’s strange, the way you turn into a telepath when your ex-boyfriend is around.
Do try to focus, Leigh.
Mercedes Rojas stepped forward with her hand out, a big fake smile plastered across her wide face.
“Welcome! We know who you are, of course, and would like…”
Leigh pushed her weight to her back foot, and tensed her legs.
“…to avoid an unnecessary conflict…”
Leigh rolled her weight on to the balls of her feet, and then leapt.
There were three shots, two from the sniper inside the house and one from the nearer position. Leigh felt the first sail over her head, the next round nicking her arm, blood coagulating on Leigh’s skin like strawberry jam. The last shot punched through her abdomen and between her ribs, the round exiting beside her right shoulder blade, hydrostatic shock making a mess of her internals along the way. Leigh landed badly, hitting the ground meters from where she wanted to be, tumbling into the dust.
She somersaulted forward to avoid the follow-up fire, springing to avoid Mercedes Rojas’s burning hands.
Leigh dropped low in front of Rojas, the nails on her right hand extending into talons. The vampire lashed out as the Operator leapt back, drawing shallow furrows across the front of the pyrokine’s thighs. Leigh snarled and scrambled, aware in a vague way that Emily was busy in the back of her mind, parrying empathic and telepathic assaults.
Leigh rammed her fist into Mercedes armored midsection, driving the bulletproof plate several centimeters into her gut. Mercedes grabbed Leigh by the back of her head and her elbow, and Leigh head-butted her in the nose, shattering it in a bloody collision. Leigh sunk her extruded fangs into the meat of the Operator’s shoulder, and the Operator grabbed her head with both hands.
Leigh bit down, sickened by the gout of blood that sputtered into the back of her throat. Mercedes cried out in pain and rage, and Leigh felt an improbable, almost pleasant warmth all about her head.
She released her bite and pushed the Operator away hurriedly. Her arms tingled for a moment, and then the nylon material of her shirt caught fire and liquefied against her skin. Leigh collapsed midstride, clutching her burning arms to her chest in a vain attempt to extinguish them.
Leigh!
I got this, Emily!
Leigh brought her arm up just in time to stop Mercedes from getting a hold of her head, her forearm blackened and smoldering like coal. Mercedes latched on to Leigh’s shoulder, and there was smoke, but very little fire. Leigh grabbed Mercedes’s wrist and bent it backwards, using her arm as leverage as she rose to her feet.
“That’s a neat trick,” Leigh observed, using her hold to maneuver Mercedes into the sniper’s field of fire. “I don’t burn well, though.”
Leigh grabbed the Thule Operator by the head and shoulder, wrenching her neck sideways until she felt something snap. Mercedes went limp, and Leigh tossed her body at the sniper behind the hedge.
Bummer, Leigh thought, diving behind an unfortunate piece of statuary to avoid incoming sniper fire. That didn’t work like I thought it would.
What’s that, Leigh dear?
I was hoping they would all catch on fire.
The sniper in the upper story on the estate got in another a good one, the bullet entering her head right about the hairline, and then following the curve of her nearly impregnable skull, tearing a broad canyon along the side of her head that oozed blood. Leigh closed the distance while they were still trying to get back to their feet. From the tangled pile of limbs and bodies, a shotgun went off with a deafening bang, the muzzle jerking with the force of a simultaneous discharge, the air filling with buckshot. Leigh felt it like the cold spray of the ocean, brilliant dots of pain scattered about her neck and chest.
Leigh hit the dogpile like a linebacker intent on retrieving a fumble, a tremendo
us collision that left them briefly stunned. The vampire recovered first and went to work, transforming the pile into a bloody tangle of claws, teeth, and burning skin.
Mercedes Rojas was limp as a rag doll, and the unfamiliar man was missing an eye and most of his throat. The snipers must have realized the futility of the struggle, because they started peppering the tangle with increasingly frequent rounds, firing at movement and not worrying over identity. Leigh coughed blood from a perforated lung as she tore Kay Harris to pieces, the sad look on his face as her fingers dug into his intestines almost too much to bear. Leigh ripped a meter of pink tissue from his belly and then tossed him aside.
She wiped her mouth, smearing the blood rather than cleaning anything, and then sprinted for the snipers.
The gunman behind the bush was halfway to the house when she caught him, leaping on to his back and carrying him to the ground with her knees on his shoulders. She sank her teeth into the back of his neck, and then clamped down until she could feel the vertebrae grind between her canines. Coppery blood leaked into her mouth and she nearly vomited. The remaining sniper found his mark, putting rounds through her shoulder and chest.
Leigh staggered and spat up a mouthful of blood, but continued toward the Estate, not making much effort to avoid incoming fire. One bullet tore a fist-size chunk from above her right hip, nearly toppling her over, while another grazed her cheek and blinded her in one eye. A bullet shattered her left femur, and Leigh just grimaced and limped along on the ruined leg. The sniper put a bullet through the top of her head, tearing away hair and tissue and bits of skull, but Leigh continued her relentless advance, lurching forward like a zombie.
As Leigh neared the frontage of the estate, the spotter tossed aside her binoculars and took aim with the submachine gun slung over her arm, spraying bullets at the vampire while the sniper reloaded. The report of the gun was nearly inaudible to Leigh after the roar of the sniper rifle, and the small-caliber rounds felt like the work of a biting insect against her inorganic skin.
The door to the Muir estate was nearly as formidable as the one that accompanied the gates, so Leigh went the expedient route and leapt for the second-story window the snipers were using. She made the second floor with little effort, grasping the window and tearing the pane of bulletproof glass from its frame. The spotter shoved the muzzle of the submachine gun into the side of her head, but Leigh batted it aside as she pulled the trigger, the bullets striking the house or passing harmlessly overhead. The sniper looked up from his bolt-action rifle, eyes huge, a magazine jammed askew in the magazine well.
Leigh wriggled into the gaping hole where the window had been, casually popping her ruined eye back into the socket.
The spotter made it halfway to the door. Leigh grabbed her by the shoulder and the back of her pants, lifted her above her head, and then slammed her headfirst into the floor, planting her like a lawn dart and denting the wood with her skull.
The sniper held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, and began to plead in an unfamiliar Slavic language.
Leigh hesitated.
Emily?
Yes?
Do we want one alive?
Heavens, no.
The sniper went flying out the window.
You enjoy defenestration, don’t you, Leigh?
Defenestration? What’s that?
What you just did.
The house was large. It took Leigh nearly thirty minutes to find the basement. In her experience, it was always the basement.
The door was heavily reinforced there, too. Leigh kicked it in, lacking the patience to locate a key.
There were two people in the room, or there had been. One was tied to a chair, the other spread-eagled on a stained metal platform. Both had died recently, and in very ugly ways. Leigh examined them with unaccustomed tenderness.
Emily…
It’s okay, Leigh dear. I…expected as much.
They were your parents. You sent me to get them for a reason. Don’t lie.
I’m not lying, and yes, I’m very sad. I had hoped for better. I hate to ask, but, can you…?
Leigh nodded.
Thank you, dear. If you don’t mind, I’m going to…
I don’t mind. Leigh hesitated a second time. Emily?
Yes?
I’m sorry.
There was no emotion conveyed with telepathic communication, no nuance.
Thank you.
Leigh wiped the blood from her face and then went to work, restoring whatever dignity was left to be restored.
***
It was not an apport.
For a moment, Marcus Bay-Davis gripped their hands and said nothing, breathing hard, his head bowed nearly to his chest. Then he took a step forward, nearly pulling Alex from his feet in the process, and before Alex had managed to regain his balance, there was no longer any sense of ground beneath his feet.
In fact, everything below his knees was obscured, a wet sort of cold pushing through his jeans like the nose of a curious dog. He did not walk, but rather was pulled along, leaving a rippling wake behind him in the Ether that was quickly lost to the universal grey.
Alex was afraid to inhale, afraid even to open his mouth. The Ether smelled faintly of ozone, and tasted of something he could not place when he inhaled, something clean and sharp. When Alex licked his lips, there was a residual sweetness.
He tried to look at Emily, not a meter to his left, but could see nothing aside from the suffocating mist.
Helpless as a toy boat caught in a current, Alex was dragged along by Marcus Bay-Davies through the gelid monotony of the Ether, unable to shake the sensation of sinking by degrees into the achromatic sea.
Ahead of him, Marcus Bay-Davies started to sing, and the tune was maddeningly familiar.
***
Karim had quickly established himself at the hotel, telepathically convincing the staff that he had reservations for one of the upper penthouses. The suite featured a panoramic view in two directions through floor to ceiling glass windows, and more importantly air conditioning, but Karim needed a perch with a vantage of as much of the area the precognitives had highlighted as was possible, so he spent most of the afternoon out on the roof. He picked the old Hilton for this reason, located within the region of concern, with a broad flat roof from which to work. There was a fenced pool and gym at one end, but the remainder of the roof was reserved for HVAC equipment, vents, elevator rooms, and the like, leaving him free to wander.
Working slowly in the heat, Karim constructed a sniper’s nest on either side of a circular vent covered in chipped white paint. First, he strung a sunshade across the space, then he laid a yoga mat down beneath it, and used a couple white tarps to disguise the installation. He supplied each nest with a rifle case and an ammo box, and had just begun to set up the rifle scope on the western side when Chike and Michael apported in beside him with sandwiches and bottled water.
“Oh, man,” Michael whistled. “You’re going to cook up here.”
“You’re telling me,” Karim agreed. “Thanks for bringing lunch. I have MREs, but…”
“But they’re MREs,” Chike said, with a smirk. “Where do you want to eat?”
Karim moved to respond, and then froze, feeling the eruption of energies a fraction of a second before the apport completed, like the charge in the air before a lightning strike. Drake Simms and Alistair blinked into existence a few meters away, a compact Asian woman standing between them.
“Mitzi?” Michael’s voice trembled, and he half-reached out to her. “Are you…?”
“Hello, Michael,” Alistair said. “Other Auditors.”
The Isolation Field fell on them like rain out of the blue sky.
Alistair nodded to Drake, and Drake winked back into the Ether.
“Miss Aoki?” Karim looked queasy. “But, you are…how can this be happening?”
“Oh, you wish,” Alistair said, with a chuckle. “You killed her, didn’t you, Karim? I can feel the guilt from here. I h
ope you realize that makes it personal between us. Mitzi belonged to me.”
Karim eyed the assembled firearm resting atop a convenient vent a few meters away. Michael clenched his fists. Chike carefully set aside the sandwiches.
“Mitsuru?” Michael said, trying to catch a look at her crimson eyes. “Can you hear me? Is that really…?”
Alistair and Mitsuru reached for their guns while the Auditors scrambled for cover.
The Anathema opened fire. Chike was struck twice, in the chest and shoulder, and then he activated his protocol and disappeared. Michael was clipped in the heel as he dove behind a bulky white HVAC unit, while Karim scrambled into a thicket of antennae, moving quickly and keeping low.
“Hey, Michael?” Alistair called out, motioning for Mitsuru to go the other way around the massive air conditioner. “I heard that you and Alice are dating again! That’s great news, man! I wonder, though, what’s it like?”
Alistair ejected an empty magazine, reloaded, and then holstered the pistol, while Mitsuru flipped over a pair of linked magazines, her movements robotic and slightly clumsy.
“I have to ask – are you into her sleeping around? Because there’s no shame in that!” Alistair advanced cautiously around the metal box. “Whatever gets you off. It’s just, for me, I don’t think I could sleep with a woman who sleeps with everyone. Does she tell you about it?”
Michael lunged at Alistair as he rounded the corner, but Alistair slid out of the way and then grabbed him, hip-tossing Michael to the ground. Michael rolled to avoid Alistair’s stomps, and then leapt back to his feet, bringing his hands up into guard and circling away. Alistair laughed and beckoned Michael forward. Michael feinted high and then went for a single-leg, but got Alistair’s knee to his lips instead. Alistair followed with a chop to the back of the head that wobbled Michael, leaping back long before Michael managed to throw a kick.
Michael limped a bit, attempting to circle, and then threw a couple of jabs, none of which connected. Alistair smirked and hit him in the gut, sinking his fist into Michael’s stomach and doubling him over, and then danced away, connecting with a cross to the head on the way out.
The Outer Dark (Central Series Book 4) Page 58
