The Awakened World Boxed Set

by William Stacey

Erin put her shoulder against the door and inhaled deeply. "Grab only what you need. This is going to be loud."

  Angie nodded. “Do it.”

  Erin shoved the door in, the wood snapping loudly as the hinges and deadbolt snapped free. Both women rushed inside. While Erin stared at Bob in the living room, Angie ran to the bathroom, throwing the door to the cabinet beneath the sink open and frantically ripping at the floorboard covering her hiding spot, dreading what she feared she was going to see.

  But Nightfall was where she had left it. Thank you, God.

  Grabbing the sheathed sword and belt, she ran into her bedroom. Everything had been thrown about by the police.

  "Movement up above and down the hall," Erin warned. "Your neighbors violent?"

  "Everybody's violent these days," Angie said as she threw clothing into a small backpack she kept on hand—pants, shirts, underwear, and socks. You could never have enough socks.

  "Out of time," Erin said.

  Angie ran back out, meeting Erin at the front door. She paused only long enough to grab her combat boots sitting beside the door. Erin led her back down the stairs just as doors opened behind them, followed by shouts of concern. They didn't bother with the way they had come in, bolting out the apartment building's main door instead.

  They ran across the street and into the alley, disappearing into the maze of alleyways.

  Angie couldn’t believe their luck.

  A single figure, a man, crouched on the rooftop across the street, watching the two women run out of the apartment building. The night was dark and overcast, and the women soon disappeared into the alley below, but he could still smell them, a heady mix of fear and resolve.

  Tec smiled, running his tongue over his incisors. He always loved a good hunt. Then he followed the women, leaping from rooftop to rooftop in complete silence.

  Chapter 12

  An hour later, Angie and Erin waited in another dark alley near Hurricane Joe's. Although the night was pitch black, Angie felt exposed as she stripped and dressed in her own clothing, her own boots. She strapped Nightfall to her hip, finding its weight and balance surprisingly reassuring, a missing part of her. Then they waited in silence until long after the band finished playing. They waited until the strippers were gone from the entrance and the drunks began straggling out.

  Angie reached out and touched Erin’s arm. "You ready?"

  "How well do you trust this Mads dude?"

  "Not even a little bit." Angie slipped out of the alley with Erin on her heels.

  This time there was no bouncer at the entrance. Several drunks were finishing their beers at the tables, but the staff was cleaning up. A knot of strippers sat around one of the tables, laughing and chatting as Angie led Erin to the bar. A new bartender met them, a gaunt older man with a thick gray horseshoe mustache, the ends reaching his chin. "We're closed."

  "Not here to drink," Angie said. "Mads is expecting us."

  He stared at her, his gaze taking in the sword on her hip. Unlike firearms, swords weren't banned within the city, but no one other than a mage carried one—well, sometimes posers. "No trouble," he warned her.

  "None."

  The man slipped away, moving to speak to one of the bouncers, who then disappeared up the stairs at the back. They watched the staff move about, pushing brooms and picking up empty beer cups, glancing in curiosity at Angie and Erin.

  "How?" Erin asked.

  "How what?"

  "How is this guy expecting us?"

  She shook her head. "He isn't. But he doesn't miss much. Two women coming into his place at this time of night, one wearing a sword, the other matching the description of an AWOL werewolf. I don't imagine we'll have long to wait."

  As if on cue, the bouncers hustled the last of the customers out the door—roughly. The strippers and most of the staff disappeared just as hurriedly. The near-empty bar took on an ominous feel. Then Jester stormed down the stairs, a look of disapproval on her features. Two shotgun-armed toughs accompanied her. This time she wore a different cowboy outfit, complete with a black, wide-brimmed, rhinestone-studded cowboy hat hanging from the back of her neck on its cord, a gun belt with a heavy stainless steel revolver with a pearl handle on her hip.

  "Don't see that every day," Erin whispered, a trace of amusement in her voice.

  "Take her seriously. These people are dangerous."

  Erin nodded, leaning back against the bar with her elbows, her stance relaxed as Jester and the two men approached. The backpack with Erin’s disassembled bow and arrows sat near her feet, but her long hunting knife was sheathed on her hip, the fingers of one hand trailing over its hilt. "Yeah," she whispered. "The illegal firearms gave that away."

  Jester stopped before them, her gaze darting between them. "You're gonna bring a lot of unwanted heat down on Mr. Johansen coming in here like this. Lot of people asking after you two. The Horse Cops better not raid us."

  "Then don't waste time," Angie said. "We need to see him." Her hand rested on Nightfall's hilt as she spoke, a fact that Jester's tight eyes didn't miss.

  "That thing better be real," Jester warned.

  "What did I just say about wasting time? And before you ask, yes, we are armed, and no, we're not going to stand still for another of your bullshit body searches. Take us to see him, or we'll be on our way and find someone else who can help."

  Jester snorted, her eyes now shining with malice. "No one's gonna help you in this city. You two are more radioactive than an abandoned nuclear reactor."

  "Does he want the sword or not?"

  Jester exhaled, her stance rigid. "Follow me."

  Jester led them upstairs and past another guard to Mads's inner sanctum. This time, Jester brought them to a series of interconnecting rooms reminding Angie of pictures she had seen of Japan. The delicious scent of lemon wood wax wafted through the room, and the dark wooden floorboards gleamed. The same narrow windows with the same bars covered one wall, but the outer walls were lined in the same polished wood as the floors, and the inner walls were separated by rice paper upon which had been painted erotic images of young women having sex with strange, animal-like creatures. They didn’t look like any kind of Fey that Angie was familiar with, but they might have been foreign or from Japanese folklore—but she didn’t know anyone who had traveled to Japan after A-Day, so for all she knew, they were Japanese Fey. Or just nonsense.

  Erin stopped and stared at an image of a young woman in the throes of passion getting double-penetrated from behind by a creature with a man's muscular body, the head of a horse, and two grotesquely large penises. Char would approve, Angie noted wryly before nudging Erin to keep going. Erin, a blush creeping over her freckled cheeks, hurried on. The other paintings were much the same.

  An actual Zen garden took up most of the space in the center of the suites, complete with meticulously composed arrangements of stones, moss, and bonsai trees and bushes. Between the stones and bushes, carefully raked to give the illusion of ripples in water, was a bed of sand. It was all too much, Angie decided, like Mads was trying too hard to impress.

  Speak of the devil, and he appears.

  Mads walked through an open doorway, wearing nothing but a long black silk robe. In the room behind him, Angie saw a large bed with a small figure with bright-blue hair sitting up in it, her impossibly pert breasts exposed—Astris the nymph. Astris waved cheerfully at Angie, her wings fluttering behind her just before Mads slid the door shut. This is all too weird. Even if Mads was the best lover in the world, he'd bore a nymph to tears. Now a man-horse with double genitalia...

  Mads approached, his hand outstretched, a smile on his handsome features. "Sergeant Erin Seagrave. Or should I call you Longshot?"

  "Erin will do," she said as she shook his hand, squeezing it just a bit too much if the sudden slip of his smile was any indication. His smile returned as he rubbed his hand, not bothering to offer it to Angie.

  Longshot was Erin's radio code name, a not-at-all-subtle reference to her sup
ernatural skill with a scoped rifle. Mads was showing off his sources again, but Angie wasn't that impressed this time. Just about every member of the Home Guard knew the Seagraves' code names. He glanced past Erin and Angie to Jester and the two guards. "Just you, Jester. We're all friends here."

  Not really, but Angie didn't correct him.

  "Drinks?" Mads asked as the shotgun-toting men slipped away.

  "No thank you," Angie answered.

  "I could take a drink," Erin said.

  Mads drifted to a glass table near a wall upon which sat a whiskey decanter and glasses. He poured an inch of dark liquid into two glasses and handed one to Erin, sipping from the other. His gaze took in the side-sword Angie wore. "Find it after all, did we?"

  "You said come back if I changed my mind. I changed my mind."

  "So I see." He handed his whiskey glass to Jester without a glance or a word. "May I?"

  She drew the sword and handed it to him hilt first. The runes along the dark-blue blade flashed with eldritch energy, but when Mads took the sword, they vanished. He didn't seem surprised as he held the blade up to his face, his eyes shining with admiration. He turned, taking up a mid-guard stance, and made a series of quick cuts with it, demonstrating some skill. He exhaled heavily with appreciation, handing the weapon back to Angie. "It's beautiful. More than beautiful. Perfect. I’ve never seen its like."

  "And you never will again. It’s one of a kind, a gift from my adopted mother, Chararah Succubus." Angie slid the weapon back into its sheath, hating herself for doing this, but there was no other way. She owed Erin her life. "Worth more than the Cloridine."

  "How much more?"

  "Passage out of the city for my friend and me."

  He considered her, his face neutral. "But you still want the Cloridine?"

  "I do. And it has to be tonight—now. You get us past the walls, I give you the sword."

  He pursed his lips as if it were too much but smiled a moment later, his hand outstretched. "Deal."

  She took his hand, shaking it and cursing herself. Char would understand. It's only a sword.

  So why was she so hollow inside?

  "Let's get going, then," Mads said.

  Jester and Mads led them out a rear entrance into a foul-smelling alley littered with refuse. The air was still hot and dry but cooler than it had been earlier. The sky was still overcast and dark as the city slept. Angie followed closely behind Mads and Jester, with Erin bringing up the rear. Mads now wore dark clothing with a short coat that concealed a shoulder holster and a pistol with a sound suppressor attached to it. Jester didn't even bother to conceal her revolver in its holster. They either don't expect to be seen or aren't concerned if they are. How many of the Horse Cops are in his pocket?

  They moved through the dark back alleys, keeping off the streets, even the side roads. Cats hissed in the darkness, and somewhere, a lone dog barked. The city was still, dead, but the air was thick with menace. Every now and then, Mads would stop and wait, making sure Angie and Erin were still with him. He either doesn't know Erin can see in the dark or isn't sure if the rumors about her and her brothers are true. Either way, she wasn't going to correct him.

  "Heading for the industrial zone," Erin whispered.

  Mads hissed at them to be silent.

  After twenty minutes, Jester led them to a small brick building, a maintenance depot. She produced a set of keys on a ring and unlocked the heavy steel door, swinging it open with a groan of rusty metal hinges that raised goose bumps on the back of Angie's neck. Mads went through first, followed by Angie. Erin hesitated, her head swiveling up and about, as if she were searching the rooftops, but then she followed Angie inside.

  "Everything all right?" Angie whispered.

  "Just nerves."

  Mads sighed audibly but didn't shush them again. Jester entered, closing the door behind them.

  It was pitch dark inside the building, the air thick with the smell of oil, but it was the gag-inducing stench of raw waste that felt like a punch to her ovaries. A match flared into life, illuminating Mads's face and revealing their surroundings. The depot was about twenty feet wide and twice as long, the floor oil-stained concrete, the walls brick. City maintenance gear—wheelbarrows, shovels, picks, and more—was stacked against the walls, along with piles of wood, bricks, and oil drums as high as her waist. The stench of sewage grew worse with the door closed, like fog. Mads used the lit match to light a kerosene lantern that hung on a nail on the wall.

  "Nice place," Erin said, glancing about.

  "It only gets worse, honey," Jester answered. She joined Mads in front of a set of rusty metal lockers against the wall. Mads opened several of the lockers, and Angie saw they contained maintenance gear, coveralls, and other clothing.

  Mads handed coveralls to all three women. "One size fits all, I'm afraid." Both Mads and Jester began to dress, shoving their feet through the legs of the coveralls.

  Angie shrugged, noting the oily texture to the fabric, but removed her sword belt and pulled on the too-large garments, rolling the ends of the pants and sleeves up. Erin did likewise. Angie rebuckled her sword belt about her waist, and Mads handed them large rubber overboots and gloves. "Don't put on the gloves yet."

  Soon, all four were suited up in coveralls and boots. Jester put her gun belt over the coveralls, and Mads did the same with his shoulder holster. Angie moved about, getting a feel for the clunky boots. She'd be hard pressed to run in these things. Then she saw the metal trap door on the floor, fading painted letters on it reading, SEWER ENTRANCE #16, AUXILIARY FLOW.

  So that's the way he gets in and out. But how? Everyone knew the sewers were too toxic for travel.

  When Mads opened another locker filled with full-face masks, complete with thermos-sized filters attached to their underside, she understood.

  He handed one each to her and Erin, as well as two more filters. Mads showed her and Erin how to tighten the masks’ straps and change the filters with fresh ones.

  "You sure this is safe?" Angie asked.

  "It isn't," he said curtly. "But we won't be down there long. Mind you, it's a mess, a maze. Hardly a wonder considering how fast the protected zones and walled settlements went up. Some of the side tunnels just ... stop, as if the engineers had second thoughts. Keep close together. You do not want to get separated."

  "Sometimes we run into bodies, bloated like soggy turds. Little girls like you," Jester said in a mocking tone.

  Angie remembered the Horse Cops' warnings about bodies in the sewer, and her stomach clenched, but she forced her fear down, burying it. If this was the only way out of the city, then this was the way they were going.

  "Not sure I like you very much," Erin told Jester, stepping closer to look down on her. Rather than give her a smart-ass reply, Jester had the good sense to turn away and adjust the straps on her mask. Angie smiled, momentarily forgetting the stench and her worries.

  Mads kept talking. "When these sewers get completely out of control, the council is going to have to up and move the entire city somewhere else."

  "Well," said Erin with a shrug. "Not like there isn't room. Forests are booming."

  "They run generators to power the pumps but only when they have to and usually only after some worker drowns in an unexpected back flood. Keep the masks on. There are pockets of gas down there. You pass out in the gray water and you're dead—not that it's actual water; piss and shit with raw refuse would be more accurate."

  "Got it," said Erin. "Keep the masks on." She removed her backpack and assembled her bow, placing several arrows on the ground near her feet.

  When she was done, Mads said, "Okay, masks on. Let's get this over with."

  Mads supervised as they put on the masks, personally checking each, including Jester's, making sure the seal around their skin was tight and that the filters were working. He knows what he's doing, Angie had to admit. He obviously hasn't always been a rich gangster. The gloves went on last. When they were ready, Jester released the
pressure valve on the sewer trap door. Immediately, a hiss of air escaped, followed by a much worse stench that permeated even Angie's mask.

  Good god, that's foul.

  Jester swung the lid up, revealing a ladder in the circular hole beneath. She climbed down first, and Angie heard the splash as she landed in the sewage below.

  Mads, holding the kerosene lantern, stepped onto the ladder to follow her.

  "Is that safe?" Angie asked, fearing the obvious, that the flame might ignite gases.

  "Haven't been burned alive yet," Mads mused. "Always a first, though. I'd hurry if I were you. Leave the hatch up. They can be hard to lift from below." Mads descended out of sight with the lantern.

  Angie glanced at Erin, who shrugged. Angie went next, the stench growing worse as she hit the knee-high filthy waters in the round tunnel below, its ceiling almost touching her head. The others, especially Erin, had to walk hunched over.

  "Sound off if you hear or see anything moving in the water," Mads said.

  "Like what?" Angie asked, her fear growing.

  "Like swarms of huge rats," he answered.

  "With teeth like this," Jester joked, holding two fingers up like fangs against the faceplate of her mask.

  "I was wrong," Erin said in a deadpan manner. "I do like you. You're funny."

  Jester turned away, splashing down the tunnel after Mads. Angie and Erin shared a look through their visors and then hurried after them.

  The water was bad, but the things that floated in it were much worse—huge chunks of fecal matter, hair, scraps of tissue paper, bones, refuse of all kinds, even animal carcasses. It was so bad Angie feared she'd vomit into her mask. Thankfully, she didn't. The water, although bad, never rose above their shins, and they moved quickly through the round tunnels, at least as quickly as they could in the overboots.

  Whenever they reached an intersection, Mads never hesitated, choosing a new tunnel to follow. He knows exactly where he's going, she realized. That meant the rumors about his personally leading the expeditions to Los Angeles were probably true. Whatever else Mads was, he was also a hands-on type of leader, the kind of guy Nathan would like.