Edgar shook off his surprise. “I could ask you the same question. I thought you lived in San Francisco?”
“My duties took me in another direction.”
“What are you talking about? The security office said you’re the executive assistant to Nightfall. What does that have to do with your duties? You’re one of the Winds, not a gopher!”
Antonio waved him inside. “We can’t discuss this here. Come in.”
Edgar followed him into the bus. “What’s your involvement with this tour?”
Antonio frowned. “That is Sentinel business, which has no bearing on you.”
“It’s my business as long as my son is a part of it!”
Antonio’s jaw dropped. “Wait. Your son?”
“He’s the lead singer of the opening act, Prussian Blue.”
“Oh, damn. I knew his name was Jameson, but I didn’t make the connection. I’m sorry, Edgar. If I had realized, I would have advised the members of Nightfall to reject his application to open for them.”
“Why? What does this band have to do with Sentinel business?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Edgar felt a ripple of magic as the perimeter ward shut down. He turned around to face the door, just in time to see it open to reveal Rory. For the first time, Edgar got a close look at the musician’s eyes.
AIR.
Rory stepped up into the bus, closing the door behind him. “Are you Mr. Jameson? The Security Office informs me that you have some kind of complaint.”
Edgar shook his head. “No complaint. Your assistant just explained a misunderstanding.”
Rory looked at Antonio. “What kind of misunderstanding?”
Antonio took a deep breath. “It was a personal matter. I have assured Mr. Jameson that his concern is groundless, and he has nothing to fear.”
Rory glanced back and forth between them, then shrugged. “Fine. Let me know if you need my input.” Then he turned around and walked out.
Edgar faced Antonio. “The Wind of Air. Are the others here, too?”
“Earth and Fire. We haven’t identified Water, yet.”
“I’m pulling my son out.”
“You can’t. It will draw attention to the Winds, which they can’t afford.”
“I’m not going to stand by and let Nick get drawn into your damn war.”
“Listen to me, Edgar. I cannot allow you to disrupt the tour. The Winds need to remain anonymous. If I have to get Takeshi down here to order you to back down, I will.”
Edgar stood there fuming. He might be retired, but Sentinel programming wouldn’t allow him to disobey a direct order from one of the Winds. “Swear that you will personally guarantee his safety.”
“He’s Sentinel latent. Just by existing, he’s at risk.”
“Promise me. Give me your word that you’ll keep him from harm, and I won’t bring your camouflage down around your ears.”
“I will do everything in my power to make sure he isn’t exposed.” Antonio sighed. “That’s honestly the best I can do. If you were anyone else, I’d have Rory wipe the knowledge out of your mind.”
“Great. I feel honored.”
“You should. I’m doing this for you.”
Edgar frowned. “What?”
“Takeshi’s strategy is paying off. He might do the enemy some real damage in his tenure, enough that your family might be safe for another generation. Don’t screw it up by exposing him.”
“Fine. Nick can stay. You just hold up your end.”
“I’ll keep him out of trouble.”
Edgar stepped back to the door and paused before turning back to Antonio. “One last thing. If anything happens to him on your watch, there’s nothing on earth that will stop me from killing you. Remember that.” Then he opened the door and walked away.
March 2020; Denver, Colorado
Liang assessed the seventy-three Nightwalkers before him. “And these are all the soldiers you have left?” he asked the local strike leader.
The strike leader, Native American by birth, from a nation that had long since perished, nodded. “The four local Sentinel teams have been coordinating attacks against us. They have been particularly effective recently, suggesting a deliberate overall strategy.”
Liang smiled grimly. “As it has been throughout our territories. There can be only one explanation: the Winds have reemerged to lead them.”
The strike leader swallowed nervously. “But why concentrate their attacks here? Surely they cannot know of the Master’s Sanctum.”
“It is possible. These new leaders must have been studying us for some time,” Liang replied. “Over the past two months, we have suffered tremendous losses at all of our sanctuaries, greater than I have seen at any time since the war with House Curallorn.” He sighed. “What remained of our strength in Asia was so depleted by targeted attacks that the other houses have already begun annexing our territory. The Master anticipates that our people in China will be completely overrun by superior forces within weeks.”
The strike leader stared at him in shock. “Master Liang, are you saying the enemy has singled us out for extermination?”
“It may be. Or perhaps we are only the first step in a wider campaign against us all. In any case, this insult must be answered.” He grinned, and his fangs gleamed. “Tell me everything you know about the local Sentinel teams that have been plaguing you.”
April 2020; Atlanta, Georgia
Ana’s singing held the audience spellbound, the notes of the descant winging their way across the stage as Takeshi picked out a sparse melody on his guitar. Her voice dropped, and Takeshi slammed out the final chorus, with Rory joining in with a dramatic rumble on the drums. Then they all lined up at the edge of the stage to take their bows. Squinting from the bright lights, Rory leaned over to hold his drumsticks out to a girl who had his face plastered across her T-shirt. Reaching forward, she grabbed the sticks from his hands, clutching them to her chest and staring at him as if he were a risen saint. Rory grinned at her before the three of them headed backstage, still waving at the crowd until they disappeared from view.
As soon as he turned the lock on the performers’ dressing room, Rory rushed to the bathroom and threw up noisily. Ana and Take casually waited for him to rejoin them. Rory had excellent stage presence but the worst case of performance anxiety they’d ever seen. He mostly used his Gift to control it during their shows, but it always hit him hard as soon as he relaxed. Take tried to prevent him from eating much beyond nutritional shakes before a show, knowing most of it was just going to come right back up again afterward.
“Are you okay?” he thought along the link.
“Peachy,” came Rory’s sardonic reply as he washed his mouth out and brushed his teeth.
Ana shook her head. “It amazes me that you’ve been performing since high school and you still haven’t got over this. Maybe you should see a shrink.”
Weak laughter floated from the bathroom before Rory returned and sat down. “And tell him what? That I kill vampires to steady my nerves? That would really go over well.”
A knock sounded at the door. As Take went to answer it, Ana instinctively readied a defensive spell.
“Don’t worry about it, Ana.” Rory dismissed her concern. “It’s Antonio, and he’s alone.”
The Fire Sentinel, wearing an all-access security pass around his neck, brushed past Take as soon as the door opened and sat near Rory. “We’ve had a setback.”
“How bad is it?” Take locked the door and took a seat across from Antonio.
Antonio shrugged. “We lost three of the four teams in Denver.”
Ana blinked. “Three! How the hell did that happen?”
“Apparently, the remaining local vampires rallied around a leader we haven’t seen before. He was strong and powerful. He went up against two Earth Sentinels at once and cut them to pieces. He also broke through another team’s kinetic wards and allowed the vampi
res to take them all down with machine gun fire.”
Rory frowned. “And we have no idea who he was?”
“That’s the only upside,” Antonio said. “Most of the security footage survived, and our remaining team in Denver has been studying his moves in case he attacks them next. One thing is clear: he’s definitely one of the older vamps to be that tough, and he’s Asian.”
Takeshi raised his eyebrows. “Jiao-long himself?”
“Either him or one of his lieutenants from before Jiao-long moved his house from China to America more than a thousand years ago. Most of the vamps after that period were sired here and are of Native American descent.”
“Antonio, I want to see that security footage,” Takeshi said, his expression growing fierce. “If this was Jiao-long, then that’s our best evidence of his fighting style. It will be invaluable when we finally track him down.”
“I agree.” Antonio reached into his pocket and handed Take a scrap of paper scribbled with symbols in Arcolin, the iconographic language spoken when the Gift was created. “Here are the jump coordinates for the base where the last team is reviewing the records. I already told them to expect you.”
April 2020; Denver, Colorado
The white light of the teleport matrix faded, and the three of them looked around to find four Sentinels guarding them, their machine guns unwavering.
Takeshi raised an eyebrow. “Brothers and sisters, my name is Takeshi Nakamura, and I am the Wind of Earth. My companions are Anaba Nizhoni, the Wind of Fire, and Rory Brennigan, the Wind of Air. I was told you were expecting us.”
A woman with blonde hair tied back in a long braid strode forward and gave them an appraising glance. She looked to be around fifty years old—ancient in their profession. Standing directly in front of Take, she glared at him in challenge for a minute and then gave a silent signal to the rest of her team to lower their weapons.
“Forgive the discourtesy, my Lord,” she said. “We can’t be too careful these days. My name is Marjorie Clemens, element Earth.” She indicated each of the others in turn. “My quad members are Thomas Jackson, Fire; Helena Carinne, Air; and Joseph Harvey, Water.” She turned back to Take and extended her hand. “It is truly a pleasure to finally meet you. Your strategy of watching and waiting was difficult to follow at first, but I can’t deny that it has worked.”
Takeshi shook her hand. “I’m glad we’ve been so successful, Marjorie, but they’re not out of the fight yet. This counterattack proves they’ve still got some cards up their sleeves.”
She nodded. “Yes, my Lord. We’ve been studying this new bloodsucker; he’s a tough one.” Her mouth thinned into a bitter smile. “I knew most of the team members who died. They were well protected and experienced. The footage we’ve recovered from their security setup shows they were overwhelmed in minutes.”
Take grimaced. “Show me.”
The three Winds followed Marjorie to a bank of security monitors where the other members of the quad were waiting. Joseph slipped a DVD into the player, and they all watched as the base was attacked, an explosion ripping through the walls of the concrete bunker. The first vampires through the breach were instantly immolated by the Fire Sentinel’s lances of white-hot flame. Meanwhile, the Air Sentinel flung any sharp weapons he could grab telekinetically into the enemy’s ranks, using his limited magic to light consecrated flames on the missiles. The projectiles stuck to the vampires’ bodies like napalm, stopping the Nightwalkers from regenerating.
The first rank of Nightwalkers went down quickly; the second attacked using automatic weapons. Bullets ricocheted harmlessly off the green telekinetic shields each of the Sentinels projected, and the energy released from their impact was absorbed to strengthen the shields.
Then the vampires darted aside. An Asian Nightwalker strode forward and pointed his sword at each Sentinel in turn. The green shields of force around each Sentinel flared white and disappeared, and the defenders went down in a hail of gunfire.
“Jesus,” said Take. “How much power does it take to burn out a kinetic shield?”
“A lot,” Ana said grimly. “That’s why no one uses modern firearms in the field. The vampires just regenerate from the damage, and we can shrug off the bullets. They should have won. They would have, if this new vamp hadn’t been there.”
Marjorie’s tone was bitter as she added, “The second and third team recovered the security footage and saw what they were up against. They made their stand together, casting a composite ward over the base to prevent chemical combustion and to neutralize the vamps’ ammunition and explosives. That battle was more conventional in nature.”
One of her team queued up the second recording. This time, when the walls came down, the Sentinels were ready. The Air and Fire Sentinels attacked immediately from range while the Earth and Water Sentinels waded into combat at close quarters. The fight was more evenly matched this time, but again the newcomer focused his attacks on the two Earth Sentinels who were directing the defenders’ efforts. He engaged them both at once, his sword a blur as he struck at each of them in turn.
“Clever,” Take grudgingly admitted. “They’re linked to their teams but not to each other, so he’s manipulating them to make them interfere with each other’s tactics.”
“I agree,” said Marjorie. “He’s a master swordsman. A regular Earth Sentinel would have no chance against him without linked assistance to coordinate attacks.”
Take watched as the first of the team leaders was dispatched, followed by the other. Then the battle became a slaughter, the attackers inundating the remaining Sentinels.
“Turn it off,” Rory said in disgust. He looked at Take. “Whether or not this guy is Jiao-long, we can’t take him out one on one.”
“Agreed. We need to eliminate him, and I see only one way to do that.” Take turned to Marjorie. “To even have a chance of bringing him down, we need a linked team. I need your quad to keep the rest of them off our backs while we engage the leader.”
“You wish to take the field yourself?” Helena, the Air Sentinel, asked suspiciously.
Takeshi scowled at her. “It’s not my first hunt, despite what you may have heard. Rory and Ana have been acting as my sparring partners for years. They both have enough skill at physical combat to hold their own and support me while bringing their own Gifts to the table. We have the best chance at taking him out if you can keep us from being overwhelmed.”
“We should get Antonio down here, as well,” said Ana. “He may not be one of the Winds anymore, but his Gift is as strong as mine, and he’s more experienced than any of us.”
Thomas grinned wolfishly. “I like this plan better and better. Now, how do we find the leader?”
“We won’t have to,” said Rory. “We leak the location of this base to one of their proxies and let them come to us.”
Joseph laughed, and his eyes changed from blue to gold with slitted pupils. “This is going to be fun. If any of us are alive afterward, drinks are on me.”
CHAPTER 6
Liang watched from behind a shroud of invisibility as his forces attacked the base. The explosives on the wall failed, just as they had at the second base. This team must have had access to information about the first two assaults and had adopted similar tactics, blocking combustion. No matter. He hardened the air into a battering ram then slammed it repeatedly against the wall until it collapsed inward. His forces poured into the base through the breach to meet … nothing?
Odd, he thought. Casting his mind outward, he found several minds waiting patiently in a large room in the center of the base, surrounded by a jumper block to prevent teleportation.
Curious. Sentinels relied heavily on their programmed instincts in combat. They were seldom able to adapt successfully to new challenges, relying on the strategic subroutines within their own Gifts to respond to new threats, particularly if inexperienced. Those subroutines generally did not allow them the freedom to walk away from combat or fight defensively.
N
ightwalkers had exploited that weakness for millennia. Only the Earth and Air Sentinels had any sense of strategy, and the Air Sentinels were limited to tactical simulations. He had been told the Earth Sentinel who led this team was quite experienced, so it was conceivable she had crafted some surprise for him. He shrugged. There is no sense in waiting. “They are in the central room. Kill them all,” he instructed the strike leader beside him.
The strike leader bowed. “Your will, Master.”
The rest of the Nightwalkers entered the building cautiously, fanning out as they moved deeper toward the central chamber. Liang followed, still hidden behind his shroud of refracted light. The strike leader reached the doors to the conference room first. As he touched the door handle, Liang suddenly felt the ward against combustion fail. Instantly, he snapped his strongest shields around himself and as many of the assault force as he could reach.
The entire building exploded around him. Liang shook his head against the ringing in his ears and the screams of the rest of the assault force. The weaker ones were consumed in fire; any survivors were crushed by the rubble of the upper floors collapsing on top of them. Meanwhile, Liang stood untouched within a cocoon of power, along with fewer than thirty of the attacking vampires. He raged at his own foolishness. Then, controlling himself finally, he melted a corridor through the rubble back toward the central room and propped up the tunnel with telekinetic shields. The other survivors followed him, their own shields protecting them from the heat of the molten debris on all sides. Finally, he cut through the last layer of rubble separating him from the untouched inner room and blew the doors inward, destroying the telekinetic shield that had held them closed when the explosives hidden throughout the building erupted.
He strode forward to find eight Sentinels standing calmly in a semi-circle in the center of the room, waiting for him. The remainder of the Nightwalker forces spread out behind Liang, awaiting his signal to attack.
The Asian Sentinel in the center pointed his katana at Liang. “Who are you?”
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