Fade to Black: Book One: The Weir Chronicles

by Sue Duff

  A looming darkness filled the vortex room doorway. The Heir headed straight for him.

  {70}

  Ning found Harcourt’s daughter standing on the stage with the Heir’s manager. Their voices lowered in discrete conversation while a Pur guard stacked two large boxes on a dolly then pushed them out the back door.

  Where’s that book? Heat spread up Ning’s arms the longer he stared at her. If he should fail, his chances of survival were slightly better with the traitor than to suffer Aeros’s retribution.

  The manager gathered his coat in his arms. A very stiff coat with two distinct corners bulging at the top.

  Ning smiled.

  He went out a side door and made his way to the back of the auditorium. A man in street clothes wore a loose Kevlar vest. He stood inside a truck loading the boxes. “How many more?”

  “That’s it, Jamal,” the Pur guard said. “They want you to pull the truck around to the front.” The guard disappeared in-side with the dolly.

  Jamal jumped out of the back of the truck and swung the tall doors shut. He pressed a button on a control panel. A hydraulic lift moaned as the rear ramp of the truck lifted from the asphalt.

  “You got what you need to get through the gate?” Ning strolled up to him.

  “I was told to follow my boss and his SUV. I think he’s the one with the clearance.”

  “Good answer.” Ning thrust his hands up under Jamal’s vest. The core blast in the center of his chest fried Jamal’s heart while the one in the back fused the spine in an instant. The murdered man remained standing with his eyes frozen open.

  Guards in the distance were none the wiser, the core blasts obscured by the vest.

  Ning leaned Jamal against the fence and inhaled with renewed vigor. He grabbed the keys and donned the man’s cap. He finished securing the back of the vehicle, jumped in the idling cab, and shifted into drive.

  {71}

  Ian swore the corridor stretched on forever. A whirling daze filled his head as he pressed his good shoulder against the wall and slid toward the outer door. Dr. Mac’s voice coupled with Milo’s shouts and Galen’s words of encouragement helped Ian to concentrate on nothing but putting one foot in front of the other.

  He reached the door and grasped the handle. The swirl in his head transformed into a tornado. Ian’s legs gave out just as he turned the knob and slumped to the floor.

  The door swung wide. Hands reached for him. Ian focused on their voices, clawing to stay in the here and now.

  “Move aside,” Dr. Mac snapped at Milo.

  Painful jabs, blinding flickers of light, limbs jerked here and there. Ian swiped at Dr. Mac to stop amidst groans and moans. He mumbled a few of Patrick’s more choice profanities. If they were coherent, not one of the elders reprimanded him.

  “We’ve got to get him in his boost,” Dr. Mac announced.

  “How bad?” Milo’s face came into view.

  “Not good.” Ian threw him an irritated grimace along with the sarcasm.

  “My best guess is a couple of shattered ribs, a punctured lung. There’s a core burn on his side and what looks like flesh ripped out of his shoulder.”

  “Just another day at the office,” Ian mumbled. An excruciating cough warned him to shut up.

  “I’ll inform the Primary once I tend to him,” Dr. Mac said.

  “No!” Ian held the man’s arm in a vice that surprised even him.

  “Ian, I must.” Dr. Mac winced.

  “The Syndrion already believe me weak,” Ian choked. A hacking cough silenced him for good.

  Galen put a gentle hand on Ian’s leg. “Son, there’s nothing weak about being injured in battle.”

  “This is serious. We can’t possibly hide this,” Dr. Mac said.

  “It’s what the boy wants.” Milo got to his feet with a grunt. “Are you questioning the Heir’s wishes?”

  “It isn’t you who will be questioned if he dies, now is it?” Dr. Mac said.

  “The earth’s reaction can’t be hidden from the Syndrion. The most mindful of them will already be questioning the Heir’s well-being,” Galen said. He got to his feet and headed down the corridor.

  “Where are you going?” Milo said.

  “To see how he got here,” Galen’s voice floated out of the murky hallway.

  “He shyfted,” Milo muttered and pulled out his cell. “Where’s the mystery in that?” He pushed the door open with his rear. “I’ll alert the girls then bring the car closer.”

  Ian gave into the pain and fatigue. He slumped into Dr. Mac’s arms, oddly gratified by the elders’ bickering.

  Their voices at the outer door were Jaered’s signal to move. He slipped into the vortex room and pulled the doors as close together as he could without latching them, then stepped into the field praying for the tingle of drawing energy to appear.

  The power refused him. No one can control a vortex stream, his thoughts roared in his head.

  The door opened a crack and then widened. An elderly man stood in the doorway. Filtered rays of moonlight from farther down the corridor backlit him with a faint glow. His image gestured as if looking around the room.

  The blackened space between them was the only barrier. Jaered stood still, trying with all his might to stop the beat of his heart.

  After an eternity of a few seconds, the man left. Jaered collapsed to his knees in relief as the footsteps faded. Convinced they were once again focused on the Heir, he approached the doorway and listened.

  The deep shadows of the hall offered the slimmest of anonymity. He pressed against the wall and took a few steps then stopped. He dared no further.

  The last man left, letting the door swing closed.

  Jaered rushed forward, his racing pulse bolstering his legs, and willed the door to take its time to close. It didn’t. When it looked like he wasn’t going to make it, Jaered fell into a skid, sliding on his hip, and aimed for the jamb.

  He came to a halt with the toe of his boot resting against the lower corner of the door. It wasn’t until the car drove off that he dared to breathe. When he looked, his foot held the door ajar—with less than an inch to spare.

  {72}

  The dense forest blocked out what little moonlight spilled from overhead. The SUV’s high beams didn’t seem adequate. Patrick flashed them to be sure they were working.

  “They’ll take good care of him, right?”

  “The doctor said most of Saxon’s wounds were superficial.”

  “Did you see how he looked at me when we got up to leave?”

  “They’ll stick him on the helicopter with the girls,” Patrick said and gave into a tremendous sigh. “I can’t believe the fur-ball is going to beat us home.” He gripped the steering wheel so tight his knuckles paled. He let go and flexed his fingers. “I’ve got to pull it together. This is a long trip.”

  “I can help drive if you want.” Rayne turned bright eyes toward him. “I think I’m still pumped up on adrenaline.”

  “Yeah, me too,” he said. “I know you wanted to go back for your things, but …”

  “You were right. Better that we get on the road. It’s just weird. A soldier packing up my underwear.”

  “And driving your car.”

  “As long as they don’t shoot it and leave it for dead by the side of the road.” Her eyes grew wide, and she grabbed the dash. “Look out!”

  Patrick slammed on the brake. The SUV went into a deafening skid then fishtailed across the road several feet before sliding backward off the pavement. It came to a stop with its back end in a ditch.

  Saxon stepped to the side of the road.

  “Are you okay?” Patrick asked, fumbling to release his seat belt with twitchy fingers.

  Rayne nodded.

  When he opened the door, winter’s blast revived him in an instant. “There’s better ways to hitchhike,” Patrick shouted at the wolf. He stepped out and sunk knee-deep into a snowdrift. “Shitty snow!”

  Rayne went around by way of the road.
“Are you okay?” She held out her hand toward Saxon.

  “Are you kidding? He nearly got us killed.” It was all Patrick could do to lift one foot above the drift. When he took another step, it sunk as deep as before. “Let’s get out of here.” He grabbed the inside handle of the door for support. “The hitchhiker is optional.” He stepped up on the doorframe and waved to the truck from over the top of the SUV. The idling vehicle’s lights flashed on and off in acknowledgement.

  Saxon ran into the woods. “Where are you going?” Rayne shouted.

  Patrick leaned across the front seat and yelled out Rayne’s open door. “Come on, we need to get going.”

  The truck’s cab door opened and closed. Jamal’s shadow stretched across the road reaching toward Rayne, his silhouette cast by the truck’s headlights.

  “I’m not leaving him here,” she said.

  “This is his home, Rayne. Maybe it’s not meant to be.” Patrick turned the engine over, but the SUV didn’t lurch forward. He shifted the vehicle into four-wheel drive and stepped on the accelerator. The back wheels spun out in the icy mound. The front wheels didn’t have enough solid traction to come to their aid.

  “I can do this,” he yelled out the open door. “It just might take a minute.”

  A bloody glow struck the front passenger tire. It hissed and spurted. Rayne stood stock-still in his headlights. Her face twisted in horror.

  “What the hell was that?” Patrick said.

  “Get out!” she screamed.

  The dark figure raised his hand, and a swirling scarlet ball appeared.

  “Run!” she shrieked.

  It struck the vehicle’s front side panel taking out the engine block. Smoke flowed from beneath the hood and seeped into the cab. The fuel line ignited. Flames shot out from under the car and poured along the underside of the carriage, turning the snow drift into a boiling pool.

  Rayne grabbed Patrick and dragged him out his driver’s side door. The deep snowdrift cushioned his landing and crunched under his weight. She scrambled over him and grabbed the book. They waded through the thick snow then rushed into the trees.

  They hadn’t gone far when the gas tank exploded. Patrick pulled Rayne to the ground. The car vaulted into the air then landed on its roof with scraping metal in the middle of the road.

  The man stopped to watch the car burn. The flames lit his features. Rayne gasped.

  “What?” Patrick said.

  “It’s Ning. He must know I still have the book.”

  “Move.” Patrick dragged her deeper into the trees.

  Soaked to the bone, they felt tingling pain come and go with every cumbersome step. It was like walking on stilts. At the muted sound of crunching snow, Patrick pulled Rayne down behind a bush and touched his finger to his lips.

  A snicker, and then a face appeared above them. A crimson flash—their hiding place turned into an inferno.

  Blasts struck wherever they dove for cover and drove them deeper and deeper into the forest.

  Rayne shrieked when she stumbled upon a steep slope. Patrick couldn’t stop fast enough. They both went over the edge, tumbling in a bundle of flailing arms and legs. He landed on top of her at the bottom.

  She moaned when he rolled off of her. His face burned like he’d been dragged across asphalt. “Are you all right?”

  “I lost the book.”

  Patrick scrambled to his feet. It rested a few yards above them. He dug his shoes in the ragged edges of the ice hill and climbed up far enough to grab it. He grasped Rayne’s sleeve and pulled her out of the drift. “Keep moving.”

  They headed across a clearing. Vulnerable in the open, Patrick stole a glance over his shoulder. A dark silhouette stood at the top of the hill.

  “He obviously has us,” Rayne said. “What is he waiting for?”

  “He’s cautious because of the book.”

  “Or he’s just playing with us,” she said.

  They stopped when they reached the bottom of another upslope. Lightheaded and no longer sure of their direction, Patrick came to a halt. His chest ached with every heave as the frigid air burned his lungs.

  “We can’t keep this up much longer,” Rayne said between gulps of air.

  He looked in the direction they had come from. Flaming trees marked their path and rose above the forest like towering candles. “I don’t see him.”

  “He’s here, somewhere,” she said. With a trembling hand, she pointed to a cluster of boulders at the top of the hill. “We need to find cover.”

  “Go ahead,” he nodded, thankful that she made the decision to hole up instead of him.

  They found a space between rocks large enough for the two of them. Patrick cradled Rayne in one arm and the book in the other. They pressed down into their stone fortress at the top of the knoll. Their shivering fell into sync once they buried their faces. Patrick pulled out his cell and turned off the sound. Rayne hovered over it to hide the glare of the screen. He started texting but couldn’t tell if the message was coherent thanks to numb fingertips.

  A few seconds later, trudging footsteps came to a halt below them. A laugh straight out of a horror movie floated up a heartbeat later.

  “I’m starting to tire of this. Give me the book and I’ll let you two go. It’s not too far of a walk back to QualSton from here. You just might make it before you freeze to death. Me? I could go all night. I’m as warm as a baby’s bottle.”

  Rayne shook her head with hardened eyes as if Patrick would consider the proposal. He grabbed a sizable rock as his answer.

  At their silence, “Oh, have it your way. Martyrdom it is!” Ning shouted.

  “Warm as a baby’s bottle,” Rayne whispered.

  “What?”

  “Maybe he’s not as bundled up as we are.” Her teeth chattered. She pushed away and pulled off one of her gloves, flexing stiff, purple fingers. “I can’t feel anything. I don’t know …”

  Patrick wrapped his arms around her. “Shush.” A stuttering shiver racked her body.

  They tensed at the sound of scrapes and sliding rocks from below as Ning closed the gap. Labored breaths grew still.

  “You make such a lovely couple.”

  They tilted their faces toward the voice. Ning crouched on the rock overhead. Sculpted teeth came into view as his lips curled into what barely passed for a smile. He inhaled. “I despise the cold. It robs the air of its bouquet.”

  Snarls rose on the other side of their boulder fortress.

  “Find your dinner somewhere else,” Ning snapped and cocked his head in Patrick and Rayne’s direction. “They’re mine.” He chuckled at the silence. “Tell me, Daddy’s little girl, what did happen to those deplorable beasts of your father’s creation?”

  “Why would you care?” Rayne pushed up, her voice growing bold. “Did they threaten you somehow?”

  “Nothing threatens me,” he said with eerie decisiveness.

  “Says the naïve man who hasn’t met his match. Not yet.”

  “And I suppose your Heir is my match,” he said and raised his face toward the moon.

  “He defeated all the wolves. Well, the ones you know about.”

  Ning whipped his face toward her, and his curled lip sagged.

  Snarls. Claws scraped the rock behind him. Ning bolted to his feet. “What the—”

  Rayne shot up with outstretched hands, but Patrick reached him first and threw his weight into the man. Ning toppled off the boulder.

  A scarlet glow lit up the air, then another and another. Angry shouts turned into screams of pain and fury.

  Patrick and Rayne pressed against the boulder and peered below. A streak of white passed overhead. Startled, they fell back.

  Saxon landed on the boulder above them. The wolf let loose a deafening howl, then snorted in triumph.

  They emerged from their safety zone in time to see the Duach Sar limp across the clearing at the base of the rocky hill. He disappeared into the trees.

  “You’ve redeemed yourself,” Pat
rick said to Saxon. “I forgive you.”

  “Forgive him for what?” Rayne stroked the animal’s chest.

  “For causing the accident that put us here in the first place.”

  A spotlight shone down on them. Helicopter blades whipped up the icy air. Patrick and Rayne shielded their eyes.

  “Are you two all right?” blasted from a loudspeaker overhead.

  Patrick waved. Rayne held the book behind her and onto Saxon with her free hand.

  Four bodies clad in combat gear rappelled down, touching ground around the cluster of rocks. They raised their semiautomatics. “We saw the core blasts. Which way?”

  Patrick pointed. The soldiers rushed down the slope while the last man held back and spoke into a sat phone.

  Tara and Mara ran up and threw their arms around them.

  “How did you get here so fast?” Patrick said. “I just texted you.”

  “What text?” Tara and Mara pulled out their cell phones to look at the same time.

  “We found Jamal murdered,” Tara said with a soulful tilt of her face.

  “We feared the worst,” Mara said.

  “How did you find us?” Patrick asked.

  “Heat signature,” a steeled voice said from the other side of the rocks.

  At Sebastian’s approach, Patrick nudged Rayne to stand behind him. She slid the book up underneath his jacket.

  “Good thinking, drawing his fire like you did.” He looked at Patrick like he’d tasted something nasty. “That was your plan, wasn’t it?” He peered at Rayne with a scowl. “Both of you have wasted enough of my valuable time.”

  “We’re going home, Drion.” Mara threw an arm around Rayne and drew her close. “All of us.”

  The Drion paused with his back to them. “Very well. I’ll send you back in my helicopter. But the wolf stays.”

  Rayne threw her arms around Saxon.