Lightning Blade (Ruby Callaway Book 1)

by D. N. Erikson

  “I’m not here for you.”

  “You swore.”

  “I really don’t want to shoot the doors down.”

  I saw her hand shake. Serenity was smart, but she lacked a hunter’s cruelty. Or imagination—the ability to plot out threats and think like a killer. And all the medical knowledge and good intentions in the universe wouldn’t save you from a desperate person with a gun.

  There was a life philosophy for you.

  Her lips crinkled in resigned frustration as she trotted over and opened the door. Roark and I slipped inside.

  Serenity crossed her arms and waited for an explanation. I didn’t really have time to offer one, so I just hit the high points. Time loops, necromancer serial killers and such.

  Needless to say, her eyebrows were furrowed in skepticism by the time I finished. The digital clock on the wall ticked over to 6:35 AM. Phoenix, with the rioting and explosion, hadn’t exactly been easy to navigate.

  Plus, it seemed they wanted to keep Old Phoenix and its plebes as far away from the glittering monstrosity of downtown as possible.

  Finally, I said, “Believe me or don’t, but I need you to scan us and get these chips out.”

  “We’re in a time loop.” Serenity repeated the words like I was insane.

  “Goddamnit, we’ve been over this.”

  “Then we’ve had this conversation before.” It was a challenge.

  “No,” I said. “This is the first time.”

  “That’s convenient.”

  “I’m telling the truth.”

  “That’d also be a first,” Serenity said. The empathy and friendliness that were simply part of her being almost seemed to smolder into something resembling rage.

  Don’t let anyone tell you I don’t have special skills.

  “Roark will clear you from the database. No record.”

  “You show up after more than two decades, and you expect me—”

  “How about you scan us, then judge whether I’m full of shit?”

  “And you want me to help the FBI? After what they do to people around here?”

  I glanced at Roark. “He’s one of the good guys.”

  Roark broke into a wide, almost genuine smile. “I apologize for the actions of my colleagues, ma’am. I don’t agree with many of their tactics.” He paused for just the right amount of time. “Or all of Miss Callaway’s, for that matter.”

  “You’re the one who busted me.” Her lips pursed tightly. “I was trying to save lives.”

  The smile didn’t waver. “Just doing my job, ma’am. Same as you.”

  “I’m not a ma’am.”

  “We need your help, Serenity,” Roark said, his sad blue eyes flooding with feeling.

  Serenity’s posture relaxed and she said, “Let’s head back to the exam room.”

  I hung back with Roark and, in a low voice, said, “Well aren’t you the little charmer?”

  “Jealous?”

  “Now I know why you never trusted me.”

  “Why’s that?” Roark asked as we followed Serenity past a rickety gurney.

  “Because you’re so full of shit.”

  Roark shrugged, as if to say maybe, then disappeared with Serenity into the exam room. When I tried to follow, she stopped me in the doorway, keen brown eyes conveying a clear message.

  “You can’t come in.”

  “Come on.”

  “It’s a private operation.”

  “You know the shit I’ve been through the past few days?”

  “I don’t want to know, Ruby.” I believed that. “It’ll be done in an hour.”

  “What about me?”

  “Here.” She handed me a scalpel and a gauze pad.

  “The hell am I going to do with this?”

  “Where’s the chip?”

  I tapped the inset of my wrist, and Serenity grabbed it. I felt a warm aura sweep over the room, subtle strands of essence coursing through her fingertips. In a long-dead elven language, she whispered an incantation.

  “Ow.” I shook loose, feeling like fire ants had suddenly burrowed within my wrist.

  “The light if fighting the darkness,” Serenity said, brushing her fingers through her long black hair. Pointy ears were revealed for a split-second, then disappeared beneath the thick hair. After many years, she’d become an expert at hiding them from mortal eyes.

  That was the only way you survived as an elf. Because before twenty years ago, we were all hiding in the shadows. Secrets. Ears like that were a clear tip-off.

  Most elves didn’t make it. Hard to blend in.

  “How much time do I have?”

  “Better start cutting.”

  Her eyes met mine, then she disappeared into the exam room, shutting the door in my face. If I didn’t know better, Serenity had just told me to slit my own wrist.

  Sighing, I wandered back to the waiting room to settle in. The itchy, burning sensation beneath my wrist refused to subside. The scalpel gleamed with a friendly menace as I clutched it in my hand.

  “Just like the pen,” I said. But in the absence of adrenaline, jabbing myself seemed insane. And the sharp shock that had stymied my last attempt still served as an unfriendly warning to stay away.

  Shaking off the hesitation, I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and jammed the scalpel into my skin. It quickly tapped the necromancer’s chip, which emitted a little buzz. A wriggle of the blade indicated the presence of two chips.

  Apparently the second one installed in the slums had been the upgraded model.

  Opening one eye, I found that blood was running down my arm. A lot of blood.

  “Shit.” I popped the knife out, allowing it to clatter to the floor. Slightly lightheaded, I stumbled to my feet, forefinger and thumb digging inside the wound. One chip came out, relieving some of the burning sensation.

  I crushed it between my fingertips with no small amount of satisfaction.

  Now in the hallway, vision darkening at the edges, I focused on the exam room.

  Serenity wouldn’t like that. But across the hall was another room. Hopefully abandoned. I lurched toward the door, fumbling with the knob. It groaned open, revealing a clean, antiseptic room.

  I ignored the exam table and headed straight toward the cabinet.

  Get the other chip out, dummy.

  I clawed for the glass, but pitched forward, shattering it. Must’ve hit an artery.

  That’s not good.

  I heard footsteps in the hall.

  “Goddamnit, Ruby.” Serenity, coming to save me.

  “You told me to take care of it.” My tongue felt like it was made of cotton.

  A few seconds later, a needle let out a pneumatic hiss as it plunged into the wound.

  I heard something clatter to the floor as I dropped to my knees.

  “What’s this,” Serenity said, her voice swimming in and out of focus. I glanced up, looking at her. She held a scalpel in one hand, her eyes covered by a plastic shield. There was a surprising amount of blood on her gloves for being a simple operation. I wondered if all that was from me, or if some of it was Roark’s.

  In the other hand, she held the Realmpiece.

  And it was going crazy.

  “That is not good,” I said, stating the obvious.

  Then I slumped to the floor, shutting my eyes.

  Even though the barbarians were about to tear down the gates.

  31

  My first words upon waking up were, “Where the hell is my shotgun?” I glanced at the tile floor, which much to my surprise, wasn’t covered in blood or broken glass. A quick check of my arm showed a neat bandage.

  And when I looked up, I saw Serenity staring back at me, scalpel gleaming with blood.

  “You really can’t be interrupting—”

&
nbsp; I stumbled to my feet and got my bearings. “How long was I out?”

  “Maybe twenty minutes. A half hour.”

  “Shit.”

  “You’re distracting me, Ruby.”

  “What’s his status?” Roark’s bare ass hung off the operation table. That really didn’t give me any clues.

  “The chip was installed near his spine.” Serenity glared at me, imploring me to leave her alone. “A failsafe.”

  “Tell me what that means,” I said.

  “An extra hour.”

  “No wonder everyone complains about health care.”

  “You came to me.”

  “The Realmpiece.” I held out my hand. She just stared at me. “The compass thing I dropped.”

  She jerked her head toward a faded vinyl counter. I rushed over, finding the Realmpiece still going haywire. Next to it was a small chip, still intact.

  “You got it out.”

  “That’s what you asked for,” Serenity said, clearly not pleased about it.

  I ground it into dust against the countertop with my thumb. Then I turned my attention to the Realmpiece. It still hadn’t settled down, whipping around the dial much too fast for anyone to make a decisive reading.

  Well, that wasn’t true.

  When it was this chaotic, it meant one thing.

  Run like hell and don’t look back. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option.

  Hopefully sticking behind would turn out better for me this time around.

  I headed for the door. “There’s something bad coming.”

  In this world, I didn’t know what. Could be MagiTekk. Could be Marshall. Could be the Fallout Zone bastards wanting to cut you open.

  But the storm was here.

  And we’d just have to ride it out together.

  “Ruby.” Serenity’s eyes were accusatory, filled with intense dislike. That was about as far as elves went. For any other creature, it would have been mouth frothing, teeth baring hatred. Probably flinging the scalpel at my throat.

  I brought it out in some people.

  Part of the job.

  “No matter what happens, I need you to keep working.”

  “What’s about to happen, Ruby?”

  “Just keep working.”

  “The clinic,” Serenity said, worry creeping into her voice.

  “I’ll do my best to save it.”

  “Goddamnit.” Serenity kicked the door shut with a slender leg, leaving me on the outside of the pockmarked wooden door.

  With any luck, she wouldn’t remember this tomorrow.

  Although, if we were lucky, there would actually be a tomorrow.

  Someone always came up short in war. As I walked back toward the entrance, I was beginning to think it was the good guys.

  But then, that was why there were people like me. To take out the trash that showed up.

  As I entered the waiting room, I saw what the storm had brought in this time.

  Solomon Marshall.

  And a whole damn undead army.

  32

  Serenity needed an hour.

  We had about five minutes—if we were lucky.

  Judging from the front lines, Solomon Marshall had outdone himself this time. I’d never thought he’d been a one-trick pony, but the diversity in the supernatural kingdom was somewhat astounding. In addition to the vamps I’d already seen, he had shifters, imps, wolves, trolls and even an angel.

  I watched the wisps darken above the thirty strong group marching through the cracked streets. They weren’t quite as dead as you’d expect from a necromancer, either. I felt the auras just enough to know they’d been resurrected. But this was impressive magic that could probably trick those with less-honed intuition. Someone had clearly been woodshedding for quite a while.

  Then again, I shouldn’t have been surprised. An army like this was child’s play for a man who could manipulate time.

  I ran over to the glass entrance and locked the door. That wouldn’t do anything, but it made me feel a little better. After grabbing the shotgun from the waiting area, I busted a hasty retreat to the hallway leading to the exam rooms, passing the rickety gurney as my mind worked the problem.

  Heavily outnumbered as I was, a last stand in the open reception area would be short lived and foolhardy. Could I eek out an hour if I made things difficult?

  I kicked over the gurney, pushing it lengthwise across the hallway. It touched wall-to-wall, leaning slightly off the floor at a tilt. Hearing the barbarians at the gates, I searched for other medical equipment.

  There was a supply closet just before the exam room currently in use for Roark’s operation.

  I shot it open, the lock splintering, and barged inside. A dim automated light responded, displaying thin steel shelves covered sparsely in supplies. Serenity’s clinic was struggling financially. I’d have to make a donation if I ever made it out alive.

  I swept the bandages and faded packs of syringes to the floor. Up the hall, from the exam room, Serenity yelled, “What the hell are you doing Ruby?”

  “Stay inside,” I called back. “And lock the door.”

  “Who’s out there?”

  “Lock the door and don’t let anyone inside until that chip is out.”

  She must’ve understood the severity of the situation from my terse tone, because I heard a click followed by the scrape of furniture on the other side of the wall. As for me, I tipped the first metal shelf over and hauled it through the narrow door.

  The commotion was growing outside as the undead hordes tested the clinic for weaknesses. They could just charge in through the long glass windows—and they would, soon enough. But, at least for now, they were searching for the path of least resistance.

  I kicked the shelf against the gurney and ran back. Just a few more minutes and I’d have a blockade ready.

  Then the first bit of glass cracked. It sounded like a rock smacking against the exterior. But there was no shatter, and I realized that, in a neighborhood like this, it was probably a little stronger than it appeared. Maybe even bulletproof.

  I smiled grimly.

  Serenity Cole had learned from crossing paths with me. Keeping the bad people out was more critical than letting the right ones in.

  I raced back to the supply closet, heart pounding. The crackling glass scored my blockade-building efforts, the panes rattling as the army pressed against the frames. And as I dragged out the last shelf, adding to the jumbled debris at the front of the hall, the entrance gave way.

  Not so much with a splintering crack, but simply a thud. They had worked one of the windows from its frame and pushed it through, intact. A feral roar immediately flooded the clinic, quite unlike anything I’d ever heard.

  Then again, I hadn’t fought many necromancers in my time.

  I racked the shotgun, looking behind me in the long hallway.

  “One hour, Ruby,” I said, feeling the shells in my pockets. There weren’t nearly enough, and I didn’t suppose that Serenity had a hidden cache of guns on the premises. With a name like Serenity, you wouldn’t, right?

  Boots stomped inside, the horde humming the same disconcerting mantra. Like a cult escaping their confines and suddenly running amok through civilization, the chant made no sense to anyone outside the in-group.

  Not that I was upset about being left out. I’d had my share of cult-like experiences down in the Weald of Centurions. Feeling part of an army and a hive mind. Probably what psychologists would call a formative experience.

  The kind where you live in the exact opposite way to escape your past. Loner to the end.

  But here I was, holed up in a clinic hallway, a few junky shelves standing between me and an army. All to buy my partner enough time.

  I would’ve gotten sentimental about it, but a shifter burst into view at the hea
d of the pack and I fired. The diamond studded ammunition tore through the air, hitting them center mass. There was a strangled, howling yelp and a spray of blood as he tumbled to the ground.

  The army’s mantra didn’t stop.

  I waited for them to charge, but much like in the dark field out in the Mud Belt, Marshall had them under his restrained control. The rows of puppets halted their march inside the clinic, just beyond my line of fire. Only the chant continued as I heard one set of footsteps methodically march across the reception area.

  I peered through the tangle of overturned shelves, trying to get a bead on Marshall. One good shot, and this would all be over.

  At least until tomorrow.

  But all I could see was the shifter bleeding out, staining the glass.

  “I have it figured out,” the necromancer said, followed by his signature high-pitched laugh. The army tittered with him, adding to the disconcerting effect.

  I kept my eyes focused on the tile floor and the edge of the fallen glass window. Shadows danced along its edge, the army tantalizing beyond my reach. A brief temptation to rush through my own defenses quickly passed when I considered the odds.

  Throwing myself at Marshall wouldn’t solve problems. Even if he died, the loop would reset the next day, and we would square off again forever.

  For this to end, the loop needed to end as well.

  Which demanded more information.

  Ejecting the spent shell with a rack of the slide, I said, “Figured what out, Solomon?”

  The laughing stopped. “Oh, you are a delightful creature.”

  “Get to know me a little and you might change your mind.”

  “But I do know you, Realmfarer.” I didn’t give him anything to work with, but I wondered how he had figured it out. The same deduction had presumably taken Roark years. As if reading my thoughts, Marshall added, “You would like to know how I did it, right?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know how I made you, too?”

  “You make it sound so noirish. Made.”

  “I’ll take that as a no,” I said, eyes still focused on the window. No one seemed eager to rush into my line of sight.