The door squeaked aside, revealing Evan and Shani squished into each other in a race to be the first to push the button. Shani looked down at the floor, a quiver of fear rattling through her. Kirsten stumbled into the apartment, half dragged by the enthusiastic grip of a nine-year-old boy thrilled to see her. Nila wandered in from the back, investigating the ruckus. Patches of blue, pink, and white light painted the ceiling of the dim living room, cast off from a large holo-bar projecting the image of a paused two-player game. Whatever it was, it seemed girly and involved cartoon rabbits―though Evan had apparently tolerated it to have something to do.
“I’m sorry.” Shani ground her toes into the rug.
Kirsten let her black bag slide from her shoulder and knelt. “Shani, it wasn’t your fault. A bad man did something to your head.”
Shani stared down, fidgeting with her dress. “I have bad dreams. Do you still want to shoot me?”
Those words brought tears. Kirsten looked at Nila, as if for permission, and after receiving a nod, pulled the girl into a hug. “I never wanted to shoot you, Shani. I…” would’ve just stood there and let you kill me. “…could never do it.”
Evan looked horrified. “Why would Mom shoot you? You’re not a bad ghost.”
Kirsten pulled him into the hug as well. “A bad person forced her to point a gun at me.”
Shani sniffled and wiped her eyes. “Thank you for not killing me.”
Nila shivered. “Commander Ashford said you got it all. He couldn’t find any latent triggers.”
“Can I borrow your bathroom or bedroom to change real quick?”
“Of course.” Nila gestured at the rear hall. “Coffee?”
The kids ran around the couch and dove into the cushions where they resumed the game.
“Sounds good.”
In the back bedroom, Kirsten removed a plain, blue long-sleeve shirt, black pants, and a pair of Nomz. After changing, she pushed the small metal cat face on the tip of the sneakers, and they adjusted themselves to a perfect fit.
She paused at the entrance to the living room, watching the children control cartoon bunnies navigating a three-dimensional maze in search of candy-like fruits, vegetables, and stars. When the smell of coffee found her nose, she dropped the bag behind the couch and went into the kitchen. At the sight of her pink-and-white cat sneakers, Nila laughed.
“Aren’t you a little old for those?” She poured them each a cup. “I didn’t know they made them in adult sizes.”
“They’re huge in Japan. It’s a cult thing, I guess.” Kirsten fell into a tall stool-seat by the island counter. “I thought they were cute.”
“I thought you got tired of being teased about looking so young. They don’t help.”
“Bah.” She sipped it black. “I guess I’m just trying to sneak in a few moments of a lost childhood here and there.”
Nila gave her that patronizing, sympathetic look she always resented; the kind of look only someone with parents who accepted their kid’s talents could give someone like her. For Dorian’s sake, she did not take it as condescending.
“How are your parents doing?”
Nila added an inordinate amount of Glucosim to her coffee, enough to where Kirsten expected the spoon to stand up in it. “I called them once Ashford got done scrubbing my brain. I don’t even remember if I spoke to them since Dorian was killed. They’re doing well, considering going to Cairo on vacation next month.”
“Cairo? What, actual Egypt?” Kirsten blinked.
“Don’t look so shocked, it’s not ACC. Most of the region is independent still, though not for lack of trying. I don’t think anyone will ever take it over.” She winked.
“Thanks for watching Evan tonight.”
“How’d it go? I want all the juicy details.”
Kirsten regaled her with the ever-so-boring recap; leaving out the fine details of the demons.
“Oh, hard to get? That’s evil of you. Well don’t push it too far; millionaire playboys like him don’t come along every day.”
“No.” She furrowed her brow. “They don’t.”
As tired as she felt, Kirsten found it amazing Evan’s endless ramble about the game he and Shani spent most of the day playing did not bother her. Nothing odd happened to him, he did not feel threatened or watched, though he did admit to a sudden pang of worry about her. She found it disconcerting that the thought of him would come on as such a powerful distraction with Konstantin’s tongue on the side of her neck. She guided the patrol craft a few meters away from Nila’s building, resisting the urge to hit the bar lights when traffic offered no quick opportunity to join the stream.
“Why are you red again?”
“I’m worrying.”
“Oh. Job stuff?”
“Yeah.”
“Shani said she had a nightmare in her head that made her shoot her mom.” Evan’s face hardened into a determined glare. “Don’t worry. No one is powerful enough to make me shoot you.”
She reached over and held his hand, flashing a smile. An opening in the lane shot past, and she gunned it, coming in above the stream of cars before settling down into the gap.
Her forearm guard rang, muffled. She left it bundled in the uniform in the bag, which was in the back seat. Evan scrambled through the gap and rummaged for the source of the noise. It stopped ringing just as he held it up. With a shrug, he carried it with him back into the front seat and studied his reflection in the shiny black surface.
It rang again, this time he answered. N0ra appeared, eyeliner smeared down her cheeks, her voice wavering.
“Kid? Sorry, I guess I misdial―”
“Nora?” Kirsten shouted. “I’m here, just driving. That’s Evan. What’s wrong?”
“You told me to call you if something weird happened.”
“Did you see Vikram’s ghost?”
“I dunno what it was.” She sniffled, threatening to explode into tears at any moment. “Something black came out of the walls. The Promacor guys went crazy. They started shooting at everything. I’m so damn scared I can’t stop shaking. I ran like a mother… It, this black thing followed me out of the building. The guys at the front gate were all dead. I had to climb the friggin fence ̓cause the power was out.” N0ra held up a bloody, shredded sleeve. “Fucking hate barbed wire.” She shivered, hands against her mouth for a moment, and looked up at someone behind her. “Sorry for swearing. I’m, okay… I’ve got the police on the phone,” she said to the person behind her before facing the VidPhone. “It felt so evil, it wanted to kill me.”
“Where are you?”
N0ra’s image blurred and faded, though the sound of crying came through loud and clear. A man in his middle forties appeared, the image wobbled and blurred as the phone worked to compensate for focus.
“Who is this? Are you this girl’s mo… no, sister?”
“Agent Kirsten Wren, Division 0 police. You are?”
He seemed to relax. “Father Carlos Villera, Five Hundredth Street Sanctuary.”
The expected instant dislike of a priest surprised her with its absence. “I’ll be right there.”
“Can I turn on the police stuff?” Evan bounced in his seat.
“Go ahead, but put your belt on.”
Evan readily secured himself in the seat. “Yaaaaay! Are we gonna go shoot bad guys?” he yelled, louder than the siren.
“I have no idea what’s waiting for us. Stay in the car, please.”
He nodded, smirking. “Awright.”
Dorian leaned in from the back seat, yawning as if coming out of a deep nap. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”
“Did you sleep well?” she asked.
“Yeah, like the dead.”
Evan rolled his eyes.
The Five Hundredth Street Sanctuary was located in the husk of an old hardware store, complete with a disused parking lot full of trash. Amid a merchant-zoned section of the city, it sat at about the midpoint of CR 500, an east-west conduit running through a poor manufacturing sec
tion. Churches, per se, had not much survived the corporate war and restructuring of society along the coastal regions. Increasing secularization combined with the need to cram so many millions of people into one city had all but eliminated the plausibility of monolithic cathedrals, temples, mosques, or the like; a fact Kirsten did not mind. However, as the faithful are wont to do, pockets of them continued in improvised locations. Most of the religious buildings she knew about were underneath the plates. Some of the truly dedicated would even make the trek down there, believing the original places to be sacred. Some, like Father Carlos Villera, obtained the resources to use commercially zoned buildings.
“I didn’t even realize there was a church here,” Kirsten said, landing at the far end of a parking lot to avoid a line of vagrants stacked up at the door.
The rest of the strip mall had closed at this hour, save for an all-night liquor store all the way on the left side.
“It’s more of an outreach to the homeless.” Dorian slipped into the driver’s seat as Kirsten got out. “There are still a few religious people left in the world.” He winked.
Kirsten got out, leaning back in to ruffle Evan’s hair. “Okay, Dorian’s here with you. I―” She froze.
The boy spun to stare out the window, the pass-through screen showed nothing out of the ordinary.
“I feel it, too.” Dorian pointed. “Something’s in the alley.”
She eased the door closed just as N0ra appeared in the window of the repurposed store. Seeing Kirsten, she battled her way through the waiting street people to the door; but stopped. The girl did not seem to want to step outside. Finding N0ra’s behavior odd, Kirsten jogged across the parking lot; squirming from the uncomfortable E-90 stuck through her belt against her back. A series of appraising looks and a whistle or two came from the men standing amid the smell of mass-cooked food. As Kirsten reached the door, N0ra reached out and grabbed her shirt.
“It’s still out there. I saw this place and ran inside. It didn’t come in after me.” The teen sniveled, as if ten years had been scared out of her. “Is Kincaid still alive? I didn’t see. They were all shooting. Please, don’t let it get me.”
Kirsten offered a consoling hug, patting her on the back until the sobs petered out. “I won’t.”
N0ra went stiff and pale, eyes focused over Kirsten’s shoulder.
Kirsten whirled, one hand behind her back on the weapon. Seneschal stood at the center of the parking lot. She pulled the gun out.
“Well, Agent Wren. You seem to be out of uniform.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Still here, I see. Guess you got away from them.”
“Indeed. They are rather single minded and a bit stupid. Like cops.”
“Why are you after the girl? She has nothing to do with this.”
He shifted, entering a slow circling pace, hands folded behind him. “The same reason you dragged our buddy around with you for a few days. Bait. He knows what she did to him. He’s the one that wants to harm her, not us. She helped us. If not for her, Lyris would never have known who compromised the production facility. Vikram cost us billions, by the way.”
“Why do you care? You’re dead.” She waved the gun at him. “You’re beyond dead; you’re dead and returned.”
A finger in her shoulder from behind; the scent of vomit mixed with piss choked the air from her throat. “Hey, you got any left?” Clad in grimy, tattered clothes, a dangerously thin man trembled―a human chihuahua offering a hopeful smile.
“Any what left?”
“Whatever you’re on dat yer talkin ta no one.”
Light flickered in her eyes. “Go inside, eat something.”
He spun on his heel and the rigid walk of an automaton carried him into the building.
“It’s a question of oaths.” Seneschal stopped pacing. “We want her to finish helping us. He will come for her, and then we can finish what we need to finish.”
“I won’t let you destroy him.”
“You still think he’s so innocent, do you? Even after the girl told you what he did. He has the blood of thousands on his hands. Valves and pumps kicked on in the dead of night, triggered by a spark that formed across a synapse in his brain and traveled thousands of miles over the GlobeNet. It still killed people.”
“Neither you nor I are fit to judge anyone.” She took another step at him. “You don’t belong here.”
“Your friend Vikram is one of us, sweetie.” He snarled the last word. “Charazu called all four of us. We had instructions to take him alive. He cost us money. Lyris management wanted him to work it off. Dead men don’t pay debts. He blew us all to hell when he couldn’t find a way out. Your innocent little Vikram killed all three of us, and himself, and twenty thousand people halfway across the world. Those little wispy horrors of yours dragged us all down.”
“Innocent people are getting caught up in your idiocy. I know where you belong.” Kirsten flexed the fingers of her right hand. “You don’t have to be consigned to your fate, Dalton. Destroying Vikram won’t make you any less dead. Let go of your anger and help me with the real problem. Help me deal with Charazu.”
Silence, but for a vortex of wind pushing a cloud of plastic cartons along. Seneschal’s eyes narrowed, deepening the lines around them. In the distance, a cat screeched. A battered oblong advert droid rounded the corner of the building, creeping closer to her like a child afraid to be hit. Its holo-panel cycled through recruitment propaganda intended to attract the local poor into the flock of a Reverend B.G. Wallis, a dark-skinned man in a plum suit wearing the smile of a salesman.
Kirsten ignored it.
“That would be something, wouldn’t it? Turn around and bite the entity responsible for my power?” A polyphonic laugh, deeper than any human could create, leaked from his throat. Crimson glowed within his eyes. “You are living a delusion. There is no redemption, only varying degrees of suffering.”
With those words, a cloud of black vapor fell out of the folds of his long black coat, settling over his arm into the shape of an assault rifle―which he aimed at Evan’s face in the open driver side window.
Evan let out a yell and ducked down as the armor panel slid upward out of the door. Kirsten screamed and lunged into a sprint, bringing the lash spiraling into the air. The instant of confusion experienced from not expecting the boy to react to his presence left him open. Seneschal staggered from the strike, her attack caught him in the shoulder and the lash stopped midway through his chest. Arms out to his sides, he looked down at the line of white light tracing from his body to her hand.
The sight of the astral thread caused the last holdouts in the food line to disperse in a panic.
His face darkened as he walked into the stream. “You are too easy to manipulate.” Another step, the agony cracked through his attempt to remain stoic. “Now I know who to kill after Vikram. It won’t be quick.”
Kirsten gathered her rage, about to channel it into her power when his body blurred. Hard, cold metal collided with the side of her head. Seneschal’s rifle swatted her to the ground, ending her concentration. He rubbed the center of his chest, wheezing. Anger flared in his eyes as he squeezed black ichor through the fingers of a trembling fist. Kirsten clutched her bleeding left ear in an effort to stop the world from spinning.
“I’m getting really rather bored of you.” Seneschal lifted the rifle.
At a thought, she became tangible to spirits, and spun into a kick that took his left leg out from under him. Her cat-themed sneaker meowed with the impact. The rifle went off; shots clicked upon the traction-coated plastisteel behind her, tearing shiny stripes through the grainy black surface. Seneschal waved his arms in a search for balance. Kirsten continued the kick into a spin that brought her feet under her. He came out of the stagger; she thrust her arm out, glimmering tendril behind it. Rather than taste it again, Seneschal aborted his shot and dove to the side.
She stepped in and he leaned left, avoiding another strike. Metal claws sprouted from the finger
s of his left hand a second before black pulsating veins grew along them. He leapt; she crouched, spinning into an attempt at a jiu-jitsu arm grapple. Tucked against him, she held on to his wrist with both hands, trying to pull him around and over her shoulder. One shove with her hips against his body should have sent him airborne, however, her feet found no ground beneath them. Released from the practiced maneuver, her mind had two seconds to comprehend Seneschal had lifted her one-handed. Claws scratched at her stomach as he groped at her belt for a better grip, continuing to heft her higher. Kirsten shot a pleading stare at the patrol craft as he carried her four steps across the parking lot toward it. He spun as if to slam her into the hood. She screamed with a mixture of fear and fury, struggling to push his hand away.
Dorian leapt through the door, tackling Seneschal. Kirsten fell in place, bent over the hood. Evan crawled down and curled in a ball on the floor in front of the driver’s seat, plenty of armor around him to stop a conventional attack; but this was anything but.
Seneschal lost his grip on his rifle, which dissipated into black smoke as he grabbed Dorian’s shirt with both hands. The men rolled over several times, grunting. Kirsten searched for an opening, but refused to move away from the car. This is my fault; I should have taken him back to the dorm.
After suffering several blows, each of which would have crippled a living man in one hit, Dorian lost himself to a moment of rage and seized Seneschal’s face in both hands, pounding the back of his head repeatedly into the ground.
A vagrant darted out from behind the only other parked car there, running in a panic toward Kirsten as if on his way out of the lot. She shifted towards him, frowned, and snapped the lash. The homeless man disintegrated into a cloud of smoke, which fell to the ground as a curtain of darkness before it rematerialized into Mariko a few feet away. Her face, the most distorted of the trio, grew even less human as she snarled through conical teeth.
“Ninja sminja, you’re still a damn ghost, and I can feel you.” Kirsten struck out again.
Division Zero: Lex De Mortuis Page 29
