by Mel Odom
“His own corp?” Hawke hated when things got this twisty.
“Yes. KilmerTek had Deckard on retainer doing sec work for them down in Guatemala. The corp is currently negotiating some oil leases there. Deckard kept the exploration teams safe while they were in the jungle. From what I’m looking at, those leases are all around the dig site Fredericks chose.”
Even though he was surprised, Hawke wasn’t shocked. When it came to corp biz, it was always like Matryoshka nesting dolls. Open one doll and another lay inside. Layers and layers of plots were hidden within each other.
“Are we certain the Dragonseed is the true objective in all this?” Hawke asked. Getting fooled again at this point was going to be costly.
“It’s the only thing that makes sense,” Nighthorse said.
“But it’s linked to Rachel.”
“That’s one of the things we have to work on, omae.” Nighthorse gazed at her creation. “We’ll know more after we see this young woman.”
CHAPTER SEVENTY
The last ascent to the cave set in the mountains was at least ten meters straight up, with verdant growth all but covering the craggy opening. Instead of being daunted by the difficult climb, Rachel felt even stronger as she grabbed a rocky outcropping and pulled herself higher. She was so close to her destination that the awareness darted around inside her like a striking snake. The thought of getting there consumed her.
“Rachel . . .” Bordelon called to her. “Can you give me a moment, cher?”
She looked down and saw Bordelon clinging to the rock face as well. His chest heaved, showing how the difficult climb had strained him. He looked like one more shadow on the rough stone. “All right.”
Irritated at the delay, but not wanting to leave the mage behind for fear of what might happen to him, Rachel found a crevice in the wall and tucked herself in. The way their roles had reversed, with her the protector instead of the one needing protection, surprised her, but she held back for him, even when all she wanted to do was sprint the remaining distance.
Wind scourged the heights now, plowing through the trees and raking the mountain with greedy fingers. Its chill cut into her, but she barely felt it. Puffs of scree, gravel, and dirt swirled around, scouring her face and stinging her eyes.
Darkness filled the sky, the sun just a fading orange smear against the western horizon. At least, Rachel assumed the sun had set in the west.
After a few minutes, she felt the compulsion to arrive at her destination rising again, and this time it wouldn’t be denied. She looked down at Bordelon. “It might be better if you climbed back down and waited.”
The man shook his head as he gazed up at her, the white planes of his skull face standing out against the darkness. “I cannot, cher.” Stubbornly, he reached up and found one hold, then another, hauling himself up with difficulty. “I must stay with you so you don’t become more lost.”
More lost? Rachel was certain she was as lost as she could be. She turned her attention back upward and resumed climbing, pushing herself into the teeth of the wind.
After several more meters, the climb summited at a small ledge that led to a cave. A nearly flat spot of bare stone only a couple meters square gave her a brief respite.
The cave opening was twice as tall as her, and almost that wide. A fetid stench came from inside, making her wonder if some thing lived there. She approached the black entrance, hesitated, then ventured inside, but the darkness was complete and she couldn’t see anything. Wariness prickled the back of her neck, and a sudden chill swept over her.
“Rachel?”
Rachel left the cave and walked back out to the ledge as Bordelon attempted to clamber up the last meter. Thin rain began falling, spitting from the darkness shrouding the mountain. With only a dim moon showing behind a layer of clouds, not much light was available. If not for his skull paint, Rachel didn’t think she would have seen him.
Bordelon reached up to another hold, but his fingers slipped. He swung away from the stone wall, holding on by his remaining hand.
Dropping to the ground, Rachel grabbed the collar of his tuxedo jacket, hoping it would hold. Even braced as she was, his weight nearly pulled her over the ledge. She skidded a few centimeters and managed to stop herself, with only her head and shoulders hanging over the edge.
At the end of her arm, Bordelon struggled to find a new purchase. He fought back up to the top, using his elbows to lever himself onto the ledge. The sharp stone cut his forearms, spilling his blood in uneven tracks.
Finally, he lay safely on the ledge. He breathed deeply for a moment, then rolled onto his back. “Thank you.”
“I’m glad you’re okay.” Rachel pushed herself up on her knees and looked back at the cave.
“What’s in there?” Bordelon asked as he sat up.
“I don’t know. Something. I have to go inside, but it’s dark.” She stood. “Do you have a light?”
Bordelon put his hands together and materialized his walking stick between his palms. Holding it with his right hand, he sang briefly and struck the ferrule against the stone. A flame wavered to life around the blossom at the top of the stick, the light gleaming in his golden eyes.
“Now I have a light, cher.” He looked at the cave with trepidation. “You’re sure we have to go in there?”
“Yes.” Rachel reached down and pulled him to his feet. His arms shook with fatigue, but he stood.
“Then let’s see where it takes us.” Bordelon walked at her side as they approached the cave. His light penetrated the darkness to reveal a sloping stone floor with a worn trail.
Pausing, Bordelon pushed the walking stick forward. He traced the definite path with his right foot. “Something’s been through here plenty before us, cher. We’ll want to be careful.”
“We will be.” Rachel stepped forward and entered the cave first.
Bordelon tried to follow, but a sudden, powerful gust of wind hammered into him. Lifted from his feet, yelling and flailing, the mage was blown back over the mountain’s edge and dropped like a stone.
“No! This is not for him!”
Galvanized by the voice, Rachel ran through the rain to the edge of the cliff and peered out over the top of the jungle. Clutching his fiery walking stick, Bordelon looked like a firefly falling among the forest.
Then—he winked out, either lost behind the trees or smashed against the ground. Rachel couldn’t tell which had happened. Either was horrible to comprehend.
“Come. Turn from these weaklings. It is time for you to become who you are supposed to be.”
Shivering in the spitting rain and bone-chilling cold, Rachel turned back to the cave. The voice came from inside, somewhere in the darkness.
“This is your destiny, child. You have no choice in this.”
Slowly, her fears quieted, and curiosity about what lay beyond filled her. Walking to the entrance, she peered into the darkness, wishing she had a light.
“Make one. All you have to do is will it.”
Rachel shook her head at that. She wasn’t one of the Awakened. She didn’t have magic.
But she needed a light to show her the way.
With a soft pop, a spinning ball of flame manifested in front of her, floating in the air. The light was bright enough to hurt her eyes, but she blinked a couple of times, and the discomfort went away.
“Come, Rachel Gordon. Enter, and know your legacy.”
Drawn by the voice, lulled by the command in the words and the curiosity that fired her, Rachel stepped into the cave. The floating ball of light moved just ahead of her, illuminating the ragged stone passage. Her footsteps echoed in the confined space, and she heard water running ahead of her as she walked deeper inside.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
Flicker controlled the RV remotely, downshifting as the big vehicle started climbing the mountainous range of the High Plains east of Denver. In another hour and twelve minutes, eighteen seconds, they would arrive at their destination.
In the passenger seat, Hawke sat with his arms folded, his eyes closed, and his chest gently rising and falling as he slept. Nearly all the RV’s other passengers slept as well. Only Dani Nighthorse stayed awake, her attention focused on the object she was working on.
Flicker knew the shaman was working some kind of magic. There were vague shimmers around the table, and the rigger felt the mystical force like an uncomfortable itch all over her skin, even though her body was in the Denver safehouse. The feeling was one she was creating in her own mind, and she was aware of that, but she still couldn’t shake it. Whatever Nighthorse was doing, she was using some powerful juju.
While Flicker was “in” the driver’s seat, she was also maintaining a watch over existing road conditions and other vehicles, monitoring the RV’s performance, accessing local law enforcement communications, looking over the files Dolphin had uploaded to her from the NeoNET datahack, and keeping an eye on Rachel Gordon and Bordelon.
Multi-tasking kept her from worrying. A little.
Rachel lay on the bed. Flicker didn’t have to access the med monitors to know her body was failing. Blood pressure was down. Respiration was down. Chem levels were barely above the minimum to keep her body fed and hydrated. The IV fluids were going straight through her into the Foley catheter and the urine collection bag. Whatever Rachel was getting from the additional nutrients wasn’t enough.
Snakechaser still sat on the floor by the bed. He’d been hooked up to an IV and med equipment too, because he hadn’t come out of wherever he’d gone four days ago. Flicker didn’t know if he even could anymore. Maybe he and Rachel were both trapped in whatever magical nexus the artifact had created, and everyone else’s efforts were just going to be a waste of time.
Feeling guilty, knowing she shouldn’t be thinking like that, Flicker glanced at Hawke. She wanted him back with her because then she wouldn’t have to make decisions, but she was afraid of that, too. What would he feel like when Rachel Gordon died? Flicker didn’t know. Hawke didn’t let himself get close to people, but he also wasn’t as hard as he pretended to be.
Something about Rachel Gordon had gotten to him. Flicker wondered about that. The only thing she’d come up with was the fact that Rachel had been doing okay with her life until the rumble in Guatemala, when the corps had made their play for her. She wasn’t damaged goods like many shadowrunners. Flicker had her own issues, too.
Rachel Gordon was . . . normal. Until her life had taken a sudden shift in Guatemala. She’d had something precious: ignorance of how slotted life could really be, and Hawke wanted to try to get that back for her—try to steal back her innocence.
The thought made Flicker laugh, but there was no humor in it. It was just . . . sad. There was no way Hawke could ever return the woman to what she’d had, and no way he wouldn’t feel responsible for what was going to happen to her.
In the safehouse, Snakechaser’s vital signs suddenly plummeted, triggering alarms that screamed for attention. Something had happened. He was crashing, bottoming out.
“Hawke,” Flicker called over his comm because she didn’t want to deal with the others.
He woke at once and his hands reached for his weapons.
“Take the wheel.” The rigger didn’t give any explanation. As soon as he slid into the driver’s seat and took control of the RV, she rushed back to her body.
In the safehouse, Flicker stood and started for Snakechaser, only to be pushed back by the med team streaming into the room. They lifted the man toward a crash cart they’d rolled into the room, but he woke and pushed them away.
“I’m fine! I’m fine!” Snakechaser pulled the IV out of his arm and got up. His attention was riveted on Rachel Gordon, who was now more pale than Flicker had ever seen her. “See to the girl!”
The stench of the grave suddenly filled the room, thick in Flicker’s nostrils. That was a side effect of Snakechaser’s magic. He’d warned her about it, and told her not to worry when it manifested, but his description hadn’t touched how rank the stench really was. Trying not to gag, she breathed through her mouth instead of her nose.
“What happened?” she asked, echoing the question Hawke was asking at the other end of the commlink.
“Something in that place shoved me out, cher.” Restless, Snakechaser laced his hands behind his head and shifted from foot to foot as he watched the med techs. “I tried to go back in, but it wouldn’t let me.”
Helpless, Flicker watched the trauma team working, feeling Rachel Gordon slip away through the link she had to the medical equipment trying to save the young woman’s life.
Feeling less and less connected to herself, growing increasingly numb to her fear and the cold, propelled only by the voice and her need to see what lay at the end of her journey, Rachel followed the floating ball of light into a large cavern, where an artesian well fed a small, round pool occupying the center of the space. Stalactites hung from the roof high overhead, and the cavern spanned several dozen meters in an irregular oval.
“Come to the pool so that you may see.”
The floating light led the way, and Rachel followed it to the pool’s edge and stopped. Somewhere in the dim recesses of her mind, she realized a predator might be lurking in the water, awaiting its next meal.
That didn’t concern her, though. She felt light-headed and relaxed. Not at ease, but uncaring. Disconnected—that was the term she was looking for. Like she had drunk too much wine and hadn’t gone to sleep yet. Either the voice was protecting her, or she was in danger and it didn’t matter.
“Sit.”
Obeying the command, Rachel sat cross-legged on the stone bank only centimeters from the water. The chill of the pool rose and enveloped her, but she felt the cold at a distance, like it was there, but it didn’t touch her. On one level, she knew it was too cold for her body, and part of her seemed panicked about that, but she didn’t care.
The ball of light hovered beside her, its mirror twin floating on the pool’s surface, only that version of the light was cold and dead. The light beside her face warmed her cheek. At least it gave her that.
“Watch.”
Bubbles erupted in the pool’s center. The urge to flee brushed against Rachel’s mind for an instant, then went away, smothered by the overwhelming need to see what happened next.
A few seconds later, amid the roiling ripples that looked as if something was fighting its way to the surface, the blue gem she had found in Guatemala—or it had found her?—floated up from the depths and hung in the air. Lighted by the ball of flames, the artifact looked like a full moon as it slowly spun on its axis.
“What is this?” Rachel stared at the jewel as the facets caught the light and winked. It was so pretty . . .
“This is the shadow of your legacy, and it is your beginning, Child. You must accept it if you want to live. It will nourish you and give you the knowledge you need until you are able to reach the true Stone.”
“Why didn’t you guide me to the Stone first?”
“Because you could not reach it on your own, and you were not strong enough to embrace the Power you will find there. You have to make this journey inside the Dragonseed as well as in the physical world. There were many things I had to do in order to assure your success in this matter. Chief among those was assembling a group that could help you. There are others who are hunting the Stone, and if they discover that you have claimed it, they will hunt you as well. I have had to be careful while . . . managing this.”
“A group to help me? You mean Hawke and Flicker?”
“Yes, and others you have yet to meet. Gathering them and keeping them on the trail while not informing my enemies has been arduous.”
“Did you kill Remy Bordelon?”
“That man still lives. He is part of the group that will protect you.”
Still staring at the artifact hovering over the water, Rachel realized how badly she wanted it. They belonged together. She raised her hand and called the artifact to her. Silently, still spinning
, the jewel sped across the water, leaving a small wake in its passage.
“Do not touch the Stone!”
But Rachel couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t bear being separated from it any longer. She leaned forward, reaching for the artifact.
“Stop! You are not ready!”
For the first time, Rachel thought she saw a face in the darkness. It looked regal, handsome, and alien all at the same time. She thought the illumination from the floating light glittered across a haze of glittering scales that burned like beaten gold, or maybe it was a face framed by long steel-gray hair. She couldn’t be certain.
Then her fingers touched the artifact, and the world exploded.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
All of the med monitors were inert and zeroed out above Rachel Gordon’s body on the bed. No warning alarms sounded, though Hawke was certain they must have when they’d dropped below safety levels.
Shocked by how frail the woman looked, hammered by the guilt of knowing he’d gotten there too late, Hawke stared at her. He didn’t know how he felt. He didn’t know her, not really, so there was no attachment of a personal nature. But he remembered how innocent she’d been when he’d talked to her on the Scorpionfish. Although scared, she’d still been feisty and had stood up to him, in spite of being a prisoner. He respected that.
And now, after everything, after all the secrets he’d discovered and the dangers he’d faced, the possible deaths he’d asked his friends to risk, he was too late.
He gripped the bed rail and stared down at her, feeling even guiltier because a part of him wondered if her corpse would be enough to get Aztechnology and NeoNET off him. Maybe he could still save his friends. He would accept that.
Snakechaser walked over to Hawke and put a hand on his shoulder. “Now is not the time for mourning, cousin.” Snakechaser looked old and worn, graying around the edges. Wherever he’d been with Rachel, the way had been hard. “She’s not dead.”
