Bring the Fire (The Wisdom's Grave Trilogy Book 3)

by Craig Schaefer

  “Gateway,” she whispered.

  Nessa pulled them both back, away from the door, back to the screen with the map.

  “But we can’t get to it,” Nessa said. “Let’s figure out where we are on this thing. Maybe we can find a way around.”

  They found themselves on the map, a point of light in an oval with two exits…and another point of light, this one shining gold, at a dead end.

  Hedy drew a line with her fingertip. “If this is to scale, the room at the end of that tunnel is about the size of this one.”

  “And there’s only one way to get there,” Marie said, looking back over her shoulder. “Which means there’s no way to get there.”

  Hedy pursed her lips, thinking.

  “Not sure about that. Marie, what else did they give you? Do you have any more of those light sticks?”

  “Two. And I didn’t see anything else in the kit that can help right now. It’s mostly stuff you’d want if you were stranded in the wilderness. Apparently, it might take a while to find me, once I activate the beacon, so they weren’t taking any chances.”

  They rummaged through the black bag together, close—but not too close—to the half-open doorway. Hedy held up a plastic-wrapped chemlight.

  “Show me how it works?”

  Marie walked her through it, tearing open the wrapper before giving the plastic tube a vigorous shake and a snap. This one gave off a bilious green glow. Hedy stood at the doorway, weighed it in her hand, then tossed it into the tunnel. It clattered on the broken flooring, rolling to a stop. She frowned, thinking.

  “Something heavier,” she whispered.

  Marie picked up the Swiss army knife, still folded shut, and passed it over to her. Hedy weighed this one, too, lifting her palm up and down. She nodded. The knife landed midway up the corridor, coming down with a clunk.

  The corridor exploded. The walls of meat contracted as if trying to swallow it whole, while a razor-wire curtain of anemone burst out from both sides and flailed madly. They tore at the air, at each other, worm heads desperate and starving for prey.

  Then it was done. The putrid meat gave one last shudder, relaxed, and fell still. The tendrils retracted, quietly quivering. The knife was gone.

  “Now we know,” Hedy whispered. “It doesn’t care about light. Doesn’t care about movement. It might notice being touched, but I’m not going to try and find out. Now we know how much sound will definitely get its attention.”

  She pointed to the two chemlights, dotting the corridor with their faded puddles of orange and green.

  “And how much sound doesn’t. It didn’t react at all when those two landed. You can tiptoe quieter than that, especially if you take it nice and slow. I can dance quieter than that.”

  Hedy gazed at the walls of flesh and steeled herself for the challenge.

  “I’ll go first, and prove it.”

  Thirty-Three

  Nessa’s hand clamped onto Hedy’s shoulder like a talon.

  “What? Hedy, no. Absolutely not. That’s suicide.”

  “Do you know why they named me the Mouse? It wasn’t because I was the smallest, runtiest kid in the coven.” Hedy paused. “Well, actually that’s exactly why, but that isn’t the point. Names have power. A wise owl taught me that. I turned my name into a strength.”

  “And if you’re wrong? You saw what happened to the knife. What if you’re halfway down the hallway and you make a mistake? What if that thing is more sentient than it seems, and it’s listening to us right now, just waiting for us to get close?”

  “Then you and Marie will know you can’t get through,” Hedy said. “You’ll be safe.”

  “If Marie and I die, we’ll reincarnate. We’ll get another chance—”

  “No,” Hedy said. She held Nessa’s gaze, firm. “You know you won’t. You’ll be reborn, sure, but this—the whole combination of events that brought us all here, this close to changing things forever? This will never happen again. This is your one and only shot.”

  Any argument Nessa could muster died on her lips, unspoken. She reached out and cradled Hedy’s cheek in her hand.

  “Be careful,” she said.

  Hedy slipped her shoes off.

  She held them in one hand as she stood in the doorway, judging the distance down the tunnel of rotten flesh and the space she had between the wavering walls of anemone. She took a deep breath and held it.

  Her toes touched dark metal as she took her first step out into the tunnel. She stood there in mid-stride, watching, waiting. The creature was motionless.

  She took one step. Then another. And a third. Standing at the threshold, Nessa grabbed hold of Marie’s hand while they watched.

  Hedy was a ghost, silent as she made her way. Halfway up the tunnel now. She reached the exact spot where the knife had been taken, swallowed by the walls. Nessa’s hand squeezed Marie’s in a vise grip, her knuckles turning white.

  Hedy was past the point of no return now. She didn’t look back. Five more quick toe-steps and she was done. She slipped through the narrow crack of the doorway on the far side of the tunnel and turned, bathed in glowing golden light. She didn’t dare shout, but she gave a triumphant wave and beckoned them over.

  Nessa’s breath gusted out and her hand relaxed, her shoulders slumping.

  “Your daughter is crazy,” Marie whispered. “You know that, right?”

  “Takes after her mom.”

  Marie crouched down, reaching for her shoelaces. “I’ll go next. Let’s hope this is as easy as she made it look.”

  Hedy had her eyes on them, beaming, waiting. They saw the figure looming at her back. She didn’t.

  “Hedy!” Nessa shouted. “Behind—”

  Her words were swallowed by the sudden violent frenzy of the flesh tunnel, walls slamming together and worm tendrils whipping at the air. Through the chaos, they saw a streak of blue light, some kind of weapon slamming down. And Hedy crumpling to the floor.

  No time. No time to wait for the creature to settle down, no time to tiptoe across. Nessa turned, wild-eyed, to the generator in the heart of the room. She brandished the Cutting Knife.

  Clytemnestra, she thought, can we—

  Yes, the elder witch replied, their magical accord finishing the question before it could be asked.

  Nessa pointed the tip of the knife toward the tunnel, grabbed hold of Marie’s arm, and charged.

  She pulled raw Shadow from the generator, from the air, from the endless occult void beyond the bulkhead walls. It funneled through her corrupted, poisoned body, just like it had done back in Carson City. And this time, as it lanced up her arm in a wave of roiling darkness, Clytemnestra was there to catch it and shape it. An oil spill of toxic energy billowed from the tip of the blade like ink spewing into a glass of water, spreading its dark wings.

  The magical ward spread, encasing Nessa and Marie like a glistening pearl as they ran headlong into the tunnel of flesh.

  The rotten-gristle walls hammered at them, tendrils whipping at the surface of the pearl in a lunatic frenzy. Skeletal metal struts finally collapsed after countless centuries as the creature did everything it could to devour its prey, a mutant giant squirming in the heart of the dead ship.

  The pearl held. It held as they burst through the doorway on the opposite side, the tunnel collapsing once and for all in their wake, cutting off the only way out.

  Nessa had taken too much, opening herself to the Shadow In-Between. Just like in Carson City, she felt her strength give out as the bubble popped, collapsing to the floor in a shower of purple sparks. She collapsed, too, her legs slipping out from under her as her heart hammered and her stomach convulsed. The world was a smear of golden light, vision fading, and her hands were numb as she fumbled for her final vial of elixir.

  She heard Marie shouting, asking her something, but her voice was a thousand miles away.

  “Hedy,” Nessa croaked. She felt the glass tube under her fingertips, almost fumbled it, and yanked the cork. “Protect H
edy.”

  * * *

  As the bubble shattered and sparks flew, Marie only had an instant to take in the chamber. It was almost a twin to the generator room, round and towering and lined with rectangular screens, most of them dead and broken. Fat pipes wound between the screens, running up and down the walls, disappearing into the floor below. At the chamber’s heart, upon a flat-topped dais of dark metal, stood a gateway.

  When Ezra and Nadia’s machines opened doors to other worlds, Marie had been able to see the destination on the other side. This one…was gold. The purest, richest gold Marie had ever seen or even been able to imagine. The rectangle of perfect light ignited the room in the warmth of its glow. Beautiful.

  Elysium, she thought.

  She didn’t have time for beauty. The dead crewman had warned them about a guardian, and there he—it—was, towering over Hedy’s crumpled body and reaching back to deliver a killing blow.

  It was a statue of living white marble, shot through with veins of jade. Marie caught the traces of a familiar sculptor, the details echoing the cathedral under Deep Six. A long face, vestigial slits for eyes and a nose, not human but a distant cousin with flawless, chiseled muscles. Its three-fingered hands curled around the grips of twin batons carved from some white and frosty wood, each one engraved with runes. Blue light blazed from the runes, and as it lifted one baton high the sweep of light followed, ancient letters etched upon the air for the space of a breath before fading into nothingness.

  Marie swung up the needle-nosed pistol and opened fire.

  The first fléchette lanced toward the statue’s chest. For just an instant, it flickered. The statue was gone, quick as a blink, and the fléchette sailed through the place where it had stood. It crashed into a screen on the wall, shattering glass.

  The figure turned its sculpted face toward her as Hedy writhed, barely conscious, at the statue’s feet. Marie squeezed the trigger again and again. It flickered as it advanced on her, phasing in and out of reality just long enough to evade every shot. The gun clicked, empty. The first baton knocked it from her outstretched hand, sending it spinning as it slid across the polished floor to land at the foot of the dais. The second baton slammed down on Marie’s shoulder, trailing wintery runes, and set off an explosion under her skin.

  Every muscle in her body convulsed. The floor shot up to meet her as her legs turned to rubber and she slammed down onto the deck. She struggled to roll onto her back. She clutched her second gun in a death grip but couldn’t make her arms lift it.

  The statue raised both of its batons and flipped them in its sculpted fingers, as if it was going to impale her on their tips.

  “Hey,” Hedy groaned, halfway up with one hand against the dais for support. “Over here!”

  The statue turned its head. Marie’s strength surged back in the aftermath of the shock and she braced the fat, chunky pistol in both hands. The statue’s face snapped back toward Marie as she squeezed the trigger. She didn’t know what they used for ammunition on Nadia’s world, but the gun bucked in her hands like a jackhammer and let out an earthquake boom that left her ears ringing.

  The statue flickered and the round went high, harmless, blasting into the chamber wall and leaving a rumpled crater of twisted metal behind.

  The batons came driving down. Marie rolled out of the way and they plowed into the deck, denting the floor. A burst of concussive force hit her square in the back, shoving her along the glossy metal and leaving her wobbly as she pushed herself to her feet. In the corner of her eye she saw Nessa gulping down her elixir, still too weak to move, and Hedy was hurt.

  All on me, then, she thought as the statue closed in for another round.

  She felt a tug in the back of her mind. Or maybe she was doing the tugging. She fired another shot. The statue came at her, faster now, blinking away just long enough for the slug to sail through it and blow apart one of the wall screens at its back. Another brain tug. She felt the Conversation take hold.

  The statue swung at her and she ducked under the baton. Frozen runes carved the air above her head. Lady Martika crouched beside her, translucent, mirroring Marie’s movements.

  “It’s phasing in and out of this dimension,” Martika told her. “You won’t be able to hit it.”

  Marie dove, throwing herself out of the way, the second baton whistling as it sliced inches from her back. Martika dove with her.

  “Thanks,” Marie said through gritted teeth. “Figured that out myself.”

  Martika nodded to the gun. She clutched a ghostly copy of her own. “This is a Talon Ultimatum. Fifty caliber, radical-invasive shredder ammunition, and five rounds in a full magazine. You just wasted two of them. Marie, you aren’t experienced enough to fight that thing. Let me take over. I can save your life—”

  Marie gave a mental shove, shattering the projection. The statue lunged at her. She darted left, put the muzzle of the pistol to the side of its marble head, and fired.

  She didn’t even see the flicker this time, gone and back again in a flutter of her eyelashes. Even at point-blank range, it was fast enough to anticipate her every move. She jogged backward, trying to get some distance. The statue strode toward her, heavy feet thudding on the metal sheets, slow and relentless.

  It can take its time, she thought, risking a quick look over her shoulder. Nessa’s down, Hedy’s dazed, and this thing can chase me around the room until I’m out of breath. Her strategy wasn’t working. She needed a new one, and she had exactly two bullets to execute the plan with.

  Even when I was down on the deck and shot at it, it still looked at me before it vanished. Maybe it needs to SEE the attack coming.

  “Hedy!” Marie called out, leading the statue in a chase around the dais. “Try to distract it again!”

  Hedy waved her arms, shouting, stomping her feet. It ignored her. Marie didn’t know if the statue was intelligent, but it seemed to recognize her as the most dangerous threat in the room and zeroed in on her, targeting her for destruction. Not that I feel like much of a threat. She looked around, hunting for anything she could use, anything that could sway the odds.

  Then she spotted the pipe. One of three that crawled up the walls together, snaking along the tops of the display screens along the rounded chamber. This ship and the one we left from, she realized. Twins. Same fleet, same builder.

  And on the fat middle pipe, the same symbol she remembered from her meeting with the Psychopomp. The sign of Venus mounted by cow’s horns, a warning sign in a language she didn’t understand.

  She would only get one chance. Marie took one last lap around the dais, lining herself up, and let the statue hem her in. Her shoulders bumped the pipe. She froze as the construct loomed over her and reared back one of its lethal batons. She waited for it to swing, aiming for her skull—and then dropped to her knees.

  The baton smashed into the pipe, buckling steel. A blast of emerald-green gas billowed out in a torrent, exploding in the statue’s face and blotting out its vision.

  Marie’s first bullet plowed through the statue’s chin and blasted the top of its head off in a rain of white marble shards. The second punched through its chest with enough force to chop it in half. The torso hit the floor, cracked down the middle, and the rest followed. One frozen leg snapped at the knee, wobbling on the deck. Then it fell still.

  She rolled to one side, keeping her head ducked and holding her breath. Her vision was throbbing, blurry from the gas. She rushed over to Nessa. Hedy was helping her up, with Nessa’s arm slung around her shoulder.

  “I’m all right,” Nessa said. She eyed the empty vial in her hand. “Had to use the last of the elixir.”

  “We should go back to Mirenze,” Hedy said.

  “We’ve been over this. It’s too dangerous. The Sisters of the Noose will be waiting for us.”

  “Mother,” Hedy said. “You need that elixir.”

  Nessa lifted her chin. Her owlish glasses caught the portal’s bright, pure glow, turning them into circles of mol
ten gold.

  “What I need,” she said, “is on the other side of that gateway. You were right, Hedy. In a hundred lifetimes, we’ve never come this close. And if we turn back now, we’ll never be this close again.”

  She pointed the tip of her Cutting Knife toward the rectangle of light.

  “I’m still breathing, and I’ve got a little fight left in me.”

  Marie dropped her empty gun. Then she looked back to the broken remnants of the portal’s guardian. She crouched low and scooped up the fallen batons. The varnished grips were firm in her hands, balanced, stout. As she walked, they trailed twin streamers of winter mist and sapphire runes that broke and dissolved in the air at her back.

  “So,” she said to Nessa, “we’re doing this.”

  Nessa cracked a lopsided smile.

  “We’re doing this. Let’s go.”

  Thirty-Four

  The glass doors of Talon Worldwide’s corporate tower opened onto a sweep of gray granite, polished to a mirror shine. Two men in blue uniforms and caps, Talon logos stitched to their shirt pockets, sat behind the check-in desk and waited for lunch to roll around. The lobby was empty.

  “Hot one out there,” one of the security guards said.

  “Yup.”

  “Nice and cool in here.”

  “Yup.”

  “I’m thinking…burritos.”

  “Burritos,” the other said. “Nice.”

  The automatic doors whisked open. Rosales strode in with a toolbox in her right hand and a pistol with a sound suppressor in her left.

  One of the guards lurched forward, eyes bulging, and fumbled for the phone. Rosales shot him twice in the chest. The other scooted backward in his rolling chair until it thumped the wall behind him.

  “Carl,” she said, “get your fat ass out of that chair. My access cards are all deactivated. I need you to open up the security room.”