Owl and the Electric Samurai

by Kristi Charish

  If it worked, we could have someone waiting on the other side of the gate. . . .

  “Okay, new plan,” I said, and pointed to Texas. “You and Carpe deal with the computers. Dev, you come with me, and we’ll see if we can find Rynn and Neil before the elves and IAA do something stupid. After that we’ll meet at the gate. Whoever gets there first opens it and goes through. No questions or waiting.”

  Dev swore, but he didn’t argue.

  Carpe, on the other hand . . . “I should come with you—” he started, then trailed off at the expression on my face.

  “You know World Quest, you’ll be more help there.” I didn’t add that Carpe had done enough.

  Carpe wasn’t about to let up though. His features twisted back into a frown.

  “I’m sorry,” he tried again. “But I was trying to do what was right—”

  I spun on him, my voice barely civil. “Listen up and listen good, Carpe. I will never trust you again as long as I live.”

  He stared at me for a long second, then fell silent.

  “Who do we contact?” Texas asked me.

  “Ever wrangle vampires?” I asked.

  Texas frowned at me. “Anyone ever tell you, you are one messed-up chick?”

  “All the time.”

  I felt the first snowflake land on my nose. I held out my hand. More large snowflakes fell, collecting on the ground around us.

  “Gimme the contact info,” Texas said. “And hurry up. I don’t think this place is going to hold up much longer.”

  I checked the bag I’d grabbed before running from the golems; it had belonged to a Zebra. There was a light, along with some other somewhat useful tools. The grenades were what I focused on. Next was Captain, who was swishing his tail by my feet. “You go with them,” I said, pointing to Texas. Captain snorted at me.

  “There’ll be vampires.” That had him perk up—one of the few words he understood. He was listening, and regarding Texas less as an adversary and more as a potential means to chasing vampires. I picked him up and handed him to Texas. “You’ll need him to strike fear into vampires on the other side. That, and he’ll keep Carpe from misbehaving.” For once Texas didn’t argue.

  I checked the grenades before swinging the stolen bag over my shoulder. I wouldn’t feel bad about trapping anyone in a tomb this time, Dennings and Nicodemous included. “Let’s hope we all don’t die,” I said, and with that we set off.

  “Are you sure this is the right one?” Dev whispered from behind.

  Mostly, I thought. Though I had to agree, it was awfully narrow—and dusty. I shook my head. Just the city trying to throw me off. “I’m positive it’s this way.”

  “Then crawl faster, will you? I’m getting claustrophobic back here, and there are bugs,” Dev said, though his voice was muffled by the flashlight carried between his teeth.

  There weren’t any bugs—that was Dev’s imagination—but still I picked up the pace. No saying what Shangri-La was up to. “Just keep your eye out for traps, and keep that flashlight on the stone.”

  “I am.”

  “No you’re not, you’re lighting up half the tunnel looking for bugs.” And that was when I saw an exit up ahead, about twenty feet or so.

  Dev swore and grabbed my foot. The flashlight went out. A second later I saw why—a group of Zebras passed by the entrance. One even shone a flashlight down, but we were too far back.

  I kept silent until they passed. We crawled faster this time, hoping to beat them before they returned.

  “Good ears,” I whispered—or hoped I did. Mine had yet to recover from the dynamite.

  “Speaking of ears, I don’t hear any more blasting.”

  Meaning they more than likely had gotten back into the tomb and had the suit.

  We reached the end of the tunnel and crawled out into a proper passageway. One we could stand in. It didn’t look familiar, but that was fine. All we needed to do was get to the center. We had to almost be there.

  We heard a noise up ahead, and both of us made our way slowly toward it, until we found a ledge. We were on a balcony above a temple auditorium, and below, at the front, was Nicodemous, with Rynn on a temple slab.

  All they needed was a pit full of lava.

  “I hate it when life reflects movies,” Dev offered. “If anyone starts ripping out hearts, I’m leaving.”

  “I’ll be right behind you.” Beside them was a standing sarcophagus . . . in two hollowed pieces. I spotted the desiccated body, skin and old cloth clinging to the bones like parchment. That had to be Jebe, discarded in a useless heap on the floor. But if that was the case, then where was the armor?

  My heart sunk, stealing what little hope I’d mustered with it. Rynn wasn’t dressed in his black clothes. Instead, he had been dressed in black metal and leather plated armor, the very same style that would have been worn by Jebe. Small lightning bolts decorating the leather and metal flickered in the lamplight. That sealed it. Rynn was already wearing the Electric Samurai armor. I held on to the last trace of hope coursing through my blood, telling me I wasn’t too late.

  I spotted Neil being held off on the far side of the platform, on the other side of the sarcophagus. Two elves had him on his knees, but he was still alive—though from the bruise on his face and the slump to his shoulders, he was worse for wear. And there was Williams, standing off to the side as well—smart of the man—along with more elves; three to be exact, though not pale like Nicodemous. They looked more like Carpe, though older. The scent of dried, decaying leaves and pine mixed with incense reached us.

  All we needed to do was get down there. Rynn had to be close to waking up, unless they’d kept drugging him. All we needed was a distraction . . .

  “Where’s the IAA woman?” Dev said, frowning.

  Before I could answer, the telltale click of a gun sounded behind us. I swore and turned.

  Dennings. Of course she’d be crawling around the temple like the rat she was . . .

  “I had a hunch you might try and crash the party,” she said. “Was that your idea, the golems? Or just the city trying to kill everyone?”

  I didn’t bother answering. Instead nodding toward the spectacle below. “You’re IAA. You can’t possibly think any of that is a good idea—” She made a tsking sound and I fell silent.

  I expected threats. Instead she said, “You’re getting a better deal than most. Any other graduate student in your place would consider themselves lucky.”

  “I’m not a graduate student anymore.”

  “Not according to our agreement with the elves,” she smiled. It wasn’t friendly. “You’ve already been reenrolled. Repayment for past wrongs done. We won’t even go after your friends,” she said, turning the gun on Dev. “Including Nadya and Benjamin. See? We can be generous.”

  “I’m not taking the deal.” Think, Owl. I searched for loose rocks . . . maybe I could shove her off the ledge.

  In answer, a rumble coursed through the temple and the ground shook.

  Dennings’s eyes went wide and she dropped the gun, trying to steady herself. Then she fell over. Dev was standing behind her, a palm-sized rock in his hand.

  “Ever since they found me in Nepal, I’ve wanted to do that.”

  I wrote it off to Karma. People tended to get theirs. Eventually.

  “Let’s get Rynn and get the hell out of here while the place is still standing,” I said, and ran back to the ledge. Nicodemous and the elves were still presiding over Rynn. I looked for something to throw, but Dev’s rock wouldn’t do anything from this distance. I ran back to Dennings and grabbed her gun. I took the safety off and aimed for the floor below.

  “Since when do you use guns?”

  “I don’t,” I said, and fired. The bullet didn’t hit anything useful, but it made a lot of noise.

  Our entrance earned a momentary glance from
Nicodemous. I looked straight into his pale red eyes. “Hi!” I shouted. “Hear you’ve got a supernatural party for me to crash.”

  Nicodemous’s mouth twisted into a snarl, exposing his pink teeth. And there, in his hands, was the spell book. The one Carpe had made me fetch all those months ago.

  “Come on, just look at me—look at me, Rynn.”

  “He’s not moving,” Dev said.

  “I know that!” I’d hoped Rynn would be conscious enough to use our distraction and meet us partway. Which meant I needed a bigger distraction . . .

  “Alix,” Dev said. I glanced back down to where Nicodemous and the elves were chanting. Sure enough, the black suit was now glowing an angry, disruptive red in response. It really didn’t want to be there. I was hoping to oblige it—at least halfway. I’d worry about that when we got there. I felt the suit pinging me, demanding I get it out of its predicament.

  “Get in line,” I told it.

  “Keep her from the ceremony,” Nicodemous said, then got back to his incantation from the book. The other elves began to secure the final pieces of the armor on Rynn.

  The remaining mercenaries began to move our way. I fished a grenade and gun out of the bag I’d stolen and handed them both to Dev. “Lead them up the stairs—toss the grenade down once you’re up top. And stay ahead—they know what they’re doing.”

  “What the hell are you planning on doing?”

  I didn’t answer, in turn giving Dev a shove. “Just make sure you lead them away—and keep running until you reach the gate.”

  The volume of the chanting increased. Rynn stirred on the bench below, and his eyes opened as a red mist surrounded him and the armor. They found me and were burning blue. “Alix, run!” he shouted.

  Now that Rynn was struggling against the restraints, Nicodemous stepped up his pace. Rynn screamed as the angry red mist glowed and flared around him.

  I aimed Dennings’s gun and fired it at the elf. It went high—I was a lousy shot from this distance. I needed to get closer. I started down the narrow stone staircase to the temple floor, taking the steps two and three at a time, pausing only as the temple shuddered. Must have been Dev dropping the grenade. Hopefully the mercenaries wouldn’t be getting back anytime soon.

  I raced down the steps as fast as I could. The three elves rushed forward to meet me. I hesitated aiming the gun—shooting at Nicodemous was one thing, but firing at someone’s chest? I spotted a loose stone off to the side of one of the steps, and quickly found holes in the wall. There were an awful lot of them.

  One, two—when the three elves were all in range, I jumped for the step and ducked. White-tipped darts shot out of the wall and lodged in their sides. A moment later they collapsed. Apparently elves were one supernatural with no immunity to poison.

  Now all I needed to do was get close enough to hit Nicodemous—

  But Nicodemous had vanished from the temple floor. I cautiously approached the slab and Rynn’s prone form.

  My heart bottomed out, and I heard myself yell as I ran for the slab. Rynn was wearing the armor, but it had changed, warped itself. Like all the other reincarnations, it had molded itself into something that fit the times. Now it resembled the Kevlar armor I’d seen the mercenaries wearing. It fit like bike gear. It was simple and modernized, with nothing ornate to give its true identity away except for a small, silver lightning bolt etched over his heart. It was magic—I could feel the air tingling around me with static electricity—but it wouldn’t draw attention outside, not even on a street corner.

  I couldn’t stop myself; maybe I wasn’t too late.

  “Rynn?” I said, shaking his arm.

  He opened his eyes and blinked, as if trying to clear a bad headache.

  “Rynn?” I couldn’t believe it: he looked okay, not bloodthirsty, not crazy . . .

  His eyes cleared as he looked around the temple. He fixed his gaze on me and frowned. It was cold—and blank. “Rynn, it’s me,” I tried. “Are you okay? Can you get up?”

  He frowned down to where I was holding his arm. I let go and he sat up, still fixated on me with his gray eyes, darker than I remembered them.

  “Alix,” he said, as if testing out a foreign word. He swung his feet down, and the leather boots the armor had decided to form touched softly on the ground.

  I took a step back in spite of myself. It was Rynn—the same movements, the same features and expressions. I mean, he recognized me, obviously, but there was something in the way he watched me, as if trying to place me.

  His nostrils flared, as if he was scenting the air around him. He was still staring at me, but his features took on a vexed expression. “It’s an interesting sensation,” he said. “I can feel your emotions, like a jumble, stronger than before. Theirs too,” he added, nodding at the elves and Neil, whose body had been left on the ground.

  Rynn took a step toward me, but his motions reminded me more of a predatory cat than the person I knew.

  “I can feel everything you feel,” he continued. “All those strange, mixed emotions tumbling over themselves—relief, fear, anger in there settled underneath all those layers. Even love.” He looked away from me. “I remember them. All of them—it’s like a signature imprinted on me. The funny thing is, I don’t care anymore. I used to, I know I did.” His expression hardened as he looked back at me. “What did you do to me?”

  I shook my head. “I didn’t do anything, Rynn. It’s the armor—and the elves. They did—”

  But he shook his head, and I saw the first glimpse of anger—­something that was usually foreign on Rynn’s face. He never showed anger, not like that. “Not that. Before. What did you do to me, Alix? Why do I remember caring?”

  There are a few moments in my life about which I can remember everything, every detail, clearly. Most of them aren’t very nice: being kicked out of grad school, beaten up by vampires, cursed by an artifact, losing Captain. Then there are a couple of really clear good moments—most of them with Rynn and Nadya.

  This was definitely the worst.

  “I swear I didn’t do anything to you. It’s the suit. You can tell I’m telling the truth.”

  “Or you think you are,” he said, and his lip twisted up in the start of a snarl. I wracked my brain for what I’d read in Jebe’s journal—anything that could explain this . . .

  But there was nothing. I started to back away. Slowly.

  It couldn’t just be that he was supernatural . . .

  I turned to Nicodemous. “What did you do to him?” I said, still backing away from Rynn.

  Nicodemous was focused on Rynn though. “We made some alterations while binding him to the suit. He was always unpredictable—­difficult to control. Now he won’t be.”

  Rynn was still watching me, as if trying to remember something, grasping for a thought or faded memory on the edge of his mind, just out of reach.

  Finally he turned his attention on the elves and Nicodemous. “Her,” he said, nodding at me. “Who is she?”

  The first glimpse of uncertainty crossed Nicodemous’s face. “No one. Leave her. I gave you a direct order.”

  Rynn ignored the order. “She doesn’t strike me as no one,” he said.

  I clenched my fists. His voice was strained, but I could hear the thin layer of doubt in it. Rynn was in there somewhere—he had to be. If we could just get the suit off him . . .

  “There is an adjustment,” Nicodemous continued. “All will be explained, and your misgivings will fade in time.” There was condescension in Nicodemous’s voice, so sure was he the spell had worked. Here was the thing. Magic like that never worked out the way you supposed it would.

  The gun felt heavy in my hand as I watched Nicodemous cross the temple floor toward Rynn. I’d never killed anyone before, but if there was ever a time to cross that line in the sand . . .

  I lifted my arm. It was shaking. I c
licked off the safety and aimed.

  Someone stopped me. It was Dev. He took the gun out of my hands. “You can thank me later,” he said, then nodded at Rynn and added, “look at his hand.”

  I spotted it. A knife. Thin and black . . . I remembered one of the things Williams had said about the elves: that even the elves never knew what their plans would bring.

  Nicodemous stood up straighter and placed his hands behind his back—the consummate politician stance, I suppose.

  Rynn looked at me once more over his shoulder and his eyes narrowed, as if he was trying to remember something—or trying to decide. Whatever it was, Nicodemous didn’t like it. “I gave you an order. Leave the girl alone,” Nicodemous said.

  That got Rynn’s attention. He began to calmly walk over to the elf.

  Nicodemous relaxed. “That’s more like it. I have things for you to do. You needn’t waste time on her or any of them.” He sounded more annoyed than concerned. He simply stood there and watched as Rynn approached.

  Some of the mercenaries had returned, and they were all watching Rynn as well, not certain what to do. “Quick—go get Michigan,” I said to Dev.

  “And you think I’ll follow? That I’ll listen to you?” Rynn said to Nicodemous, his mouth curling up at the corners.

  “Because I made you. You’re bound to the elves to do our bidding. This time you can’t leave.”

  Rynn seemed to regard him. Nicodemous might have missed it, but Rynn in his current state didn’t strike me as anyone’s servant.

  But Nicodemous either didn’t see what I did or didn’t deign it a threat, even as Rynn drew the black knife back.

  The knife slid into Nicodemous’s chest. The elf’s eyes went wide and he gasped, but even though his body arched, I don’t know if he realized what had happened. Not until he looked down at the blade sticking out of his chest and the blood pooling around him. It seemed to dawn on him as he looked back up—right into Rynn’s snarling face.

  “I might not know what I feel for her, but I do remember how much I hate elves. That hasn’t changed one bit,” Rynn said, and drove the knife deeper into Nicodemous’s chest before taking it out and sliding it across the elf’s neck.