Fallen Angels

by Stephen Kenson

  "Call G-Dogg," he told the pocket secretary.

  * * *

  Portland was nothing like Kellan expected. After everything she’d heard about the fantastic elven nation of Tir Tairngire, an Awakened land of metahumans and magic, she’d expected . . . well, she wasn’t sure, maybe tall spires, pennant flags snapping in the breeze, enchanted woodland glades, griffins soaring between the towers like you saw on the trid programs like Tales of Atlantis.

  She, Midnight and Orion were blindfolded by their "hosts" after crossing the river. Kellan bristled at the idea, but the Rinelle made it clear that it was the only way they would be escorted through one of the secret passages through the Portland Wall. What followed was a confusing series of twists and turns, such that Kellan wondered if they were being led into a trap. Then they were allowed to remove the blindfolds, and Kellan got her first look at the city the elves called Cara’Sir, the City of Rivers.

  It was so . . . mundane. The city looming up beyond the Portland Wall was little different from Seattle. Sure, the buildings differed, and some of the neon and flatscreen signs Kellan could see were written in graceful elvish runes rather than English, Spanish or Japanese, but the city had the same sorts of roads, the same towers of steel and mirrored glass. Cars moved along those roads instead of horse-drawn carriages, and helicopters and tilt-rotor aircraft buzzed among the buildings rather than proud griffins or mighty dragons. It was a city like any other: big, sprawling, glowing, dark and dirty. Kellan quashed a surge of disappointment.

  "Remember, the same amount when you want to leave," the female Rinelle member said curtly, "assuming you ever do." Then she and the other elf withdrew, leaving the three shadowrunners by themselves in a darkened parking lot.

  "Nice," Kellan muttered, watching them go. When she turned back, Midnight was crouched alongside one of the cars parked in the lot.

  "Keep an eye out," she said, taking some tools from her vest. Kellan and Orion kept watch while she worked, but there was little traffic so early in the morning on the outskirts of the city.

  In a matter of minutes, Midnight disabled the lock on the car door, opened up a panel under the dash and hotwired the ignition system. The hybrid engine hummed to life, and Midnight gave a satisfied smile as she snapped the panel closed and slid into the driver’s seat.

  "Let’s go," she said, and Kellan and Orion climbed in. Within moments, they were on the road headed toward the heart of the city.

  "We’ll need to ditch this when we get into the city proper," Midnight said, keeping her eyes on the road. "I’ve taken out the transponder, so it’ll take the Tir cops a while to locate the car, but it’s still a potential liability. Make sure not to touch anything barehanded," she glanced over at Kellan, who jammed her hands in her pockets and slouched in the seat, doing her best to become inconspicuous.

  "Where are we going?" Orion asked from the back seat.

  "Safe house," Midnight explained. "A place I set up for while we’re in town. Then we can get to work."

  As they drove through the outskirts of Portland, Kellan watched the buildings, signs and people they passed. They were an odd mixture of the familiar and the exotic. Now that she had time to really take in the details, she saw that Portland was different from the metroplex she knew. Most obviously, there were far more elves than any place Kellan had ever been, other than the few elven neighborhoods of Seattle. Even on the outskirts, closer to the wall, the majority of people she saw were metahumans—dwarfs, orks and even the occasional troll—mixed in with a few humans and the expected elves. The further they went into the city, the more elves she saw, and the fewer of everyone else.

  Kellan was also surprised by the state of some of the buildings they passed. There was one burned-out shell, surrounded by warning signs and yellow tape. She looked at the half-covered remains of a sign near the street, but it was written in elvish.

  "What does it say?" she asked.

  "It was a Peace Force station," Orion answered. "Tir police."

  "What happened?"

  "Probably the Rinelle, a terrorist bombing or protest." When Kellan turned toward Orion with a look of surprise, he shrugged. "The Council of Princes keeps a tight lid on the news from inside the country, but some of it gets out to people in places like Tarislar. Tir Tairngire has had a lot of political problems lately, and it’s not likely to get any better. They might want the rest of the world to think they’re one big happy faerieland, but the truth is it’s probably only a matter of time before there’s a civil war."

  Kellan slumped back into her seat and thought about that as they traveled. Though downtown Portland was even cleaner and more orderly than the business district of Seattle, she thought she could see some of what Orion was talking about. Even in broad daylight, uniformed officers of the Tir Peace Force had an unusually strong presence on the streets. People went from place to place quickly, without lingering, and there was a sense of tension that seemed out of character in the gleaming plazas.

  Midnight found a space along a side street to park the car. Before getting out, she turned to Kellan and Orion.

  "Just act casual, don’t make direct eye contact, and let me do the talking," she instructed them. They climbed out of the car and Midnight led the way down the street, cutting through an alley, and then walking a few more blocks. Kellan looked steadfastly straight ahead, working hard to not acknowledge anyone passing them on the street. They stopped in front of a small Thai restaurant on the ground floor of one of a row of converted brownstones. Midnight held open the door and waved them inside before following close behind.

  The inside was cozy, with only a dozen or so small tables set with burning candles. The air was warm and smelled of spices. Only a single table was occupied, and the young elf couple there seemed to take no notice of the newcomers entering the restaurant.

  The elf woman who greeted them had an exotic mix of elven and Asian features, her long, dark hair done up in braids coiled at the nape of her neck, decorated with beads and held in place with lacquered hair ornaments. She wore a colorful sari and moved gracefully as she smiled and bowed slightly upon seeing Midnight.

  "Your reservation is ready," she said quietly, guiding the three of them to the back of the restaurant. They passed the table tucked away there and went through the doors into the kitchen, where the woman turned and brought them up a set of stairs to the second floor. They passed one closed door before the woman stopped at another and opened it.

  The room beyond probably took up a good part of the back half of the building’s second floor. It contained a small bed along with a couple of folding cots, an old table and some chairs. The wallpaper was probably older than Tir Tairngire itself, and the floor was hardwood that had seen better days. Blinds covered the two windows looking out into the alley behind the building, closed to block out most of the daylight. Midnight took in the room with a sweeping glance before turning back to the woman.

  "Good," she said, handing her a credstick. The woman bowed again slightly, palming the payment, and withdrew. Midnight ushered Kellan and Orion inside and closed the door behind them.

  "You know her?" Kellan asked and Midnight nodded.

  "Well enough. The owners will provide the space and won’t ask any questions, as long as we’re discreet."

  Kellan dropped her bag on one of the cots as Midnight moved a chair against the side wall of the room, with a view of the door and windows.

  "Now," she said, "have a seat, and I’ll tell you what we’re doing." Orion grabbed the other chair, and Kellan sat down on the edge of the cot. Midnight crossed one leg over the other and clasped her hands in her lap, reminding Kellan of a teacher about to begin a lesson.

  "Telestrian Industries is the largest corporation in Tir Tairngire," she began. "They have interests in biotech, computers, entertainment, data processing—you name it. They’ve got an arcology habitat here in Portland, and, of course, they’ve got close ties with the Tir Council of Princes.

  "Until recently, James Tel
estrian III ran the company. It’s privately held by his family, which is one of the most influential families in the Tir. Recently, James announced his intention to seek an appointment to the Council of Princes, and needed to turn control of the company over to someone else due to the requirements of Tir law. He picked his younger sister, Marie-Louise, for the job."

  "And somebody is pretty hacked off about it," Kellan interjected.

  "Got it in one," Midnight said with a sly smile.

  "James’ son Timothy is an MBA graduate with ambition and sufficient talent, from what I’ve heard, and he’s none too happy about being passed over for an opportunity to run the family business. He’s looking for an opportunity to leverage control of Telestrian Industries away from his aunt, which is where we come in.

  "Our job is to get inside the Telestrian Habitat and acquire a certain top-secret file, which our employer can use as leverage against his aunt, particularly if his father wants to avoid an embarrassing family squabble while he’s trying to win the favor of the Council of Princes. Timothy Telestrian is willing to pay handsomely for the information, and, in addition, he can provide us credentials to get us inside the habitat and some of the codes we’ll need to retrieve the data."

  "Some?" Orion asked.

  "Obviously, he can’t give us anything that would implicate him, but what he can give us will make the job a lot easier."

  Kellan nodded. "When do we go?"

  "Well, time is of the essence," Midnight said. "Once James Telestrian is on the Council of Princes, Timothy loses most of his bargaining power, since his father’s position will be established. I need to set up a meeting with a contact to get the information Timothy said he’d provide. Then we can review it, figure out our plan of attack, and get the job done. We’ll be here for a few days at most. Then we’re out, with enough cred to take it easy for a while."

  Kellan couldn’t help but smile at the prospect of the easy life for a little while. "Let’s do it."

  Chapter 11

  You know, Lothan," the ork said, staring straight ahead, "this isn’t exactly the smartest thing you’ve ever done."

  "Yes, G-Dogg," he replied with a sigh, "I do believe you mentioned that, oh, half a dozen or so times already."

  "I’m just sayin’," G-Dogg continued, his hands leaving the steering wheel for a moment to make a pacifying gesture. "It could be a lot of trouble for nothing."

  "Perhaps," Lothan said, nodding his head slowly, "perhaps, but some things need to be done."

  G-Dogg looked at the troll, and Lothan shook his head. "Don’t read anything into this," he warned. "It is what it is."

  He turned back to the road. "Well, if you’re going to do this, then I’m coming with you."

  It was Lothan’s turn to look at G-Dogg, and the ork gave him a sidelong glance before returning his gaze to the road, shaggy dreadlocks bobbing.

  "Hey, she’s my friend, too," he muttered.

  "I’ll be glad for the company, then," Lothan said, a smile tugging at one side of his mouth.

  G-Dogg drove them down Pike Street in Lothan’s van. Traffic was fairly heavy, so things were stop-and-go as they headed downhill toward the waterfront. Lothan maintained an air of calm detachment, though he fought the urge to strike the car ahead of them with a fireball and blast it from the road. He didn’t want to be late. Cursed traffic.

  "Remember—" he began.

  "Yeah, yeah," G-Dogg interrupted, "I know, street parking if at all possible. You’ve mentioned that a few times. If you know some magic for that, now would be a good time, cuz street parking’s not lookin’ too likely at the moment."

  He’s probably right, Lothan thought glumly. He didn’t care for the idea of putting the van in a garage, since it limited their options if a quick departure was called for. Not that he was planning on one, but it paid to be prepared.

  "Let me see what I can do about that," he said. If nothing else, it would take his mind off the traffic.

  Lothan settled back in his seat, despite the somewhat cramped space. Though the Awakened world had included orks and trolls for decades, car manufacturers were only beginning to catch on to the idea that the bucket seat wasn’t made with three-meter-tall metahumans in mind.

  Lothan calmed his mind. One hand cupped near his solar plexus, he lifted the other over it, palm down, as if holding a small ball near his stomach. He breathed out, feeling the flow of mana, magical energy, in the ether around him. With the smallest effort of will, he took a portion of that energy and drew it in as easily as drawing a deep breath, channeling it into the space between his hands. He focused on his intent, and molded and shaped the energy in accordance with it. The air shimmered between his cupped hands, and it was to G-Dogg’s credit that he gave what Lothan was doing no more than a cursory glance.

  The troll mage breathed out one more time, quickly, almost explosively, and the shimmer between his palms took shape, becoming a ghostly outline of a bird, visible only as a distortion in the air. Lothan spread his hands in a gesture of release, and the shape flew, passing through the windshield in front of him and zipping away.

  "That going to get us a parking spot?" G-Dogg asked, as if he saw wizards conjuring spirits all the time.

  "If there’s one to be had," Lothan said.

  "Wizard."

  There was a spot, and Lothan’s watcher spirit guided them to it just in time to pull in as the other car exited. G-Dogg neatly maneuvered the van into the space, then killed the engine and hopped out to slot his credstick into the parking meter. It would deduct the cost of the space minute by minute from his account until they left.

  The Hotel Nikko was at the corner of Pike Street and Third Avenue, west of the looming bulk of the Renraku Arcology and beyond the long shadow it cast over the downtown area in the late afternoon hours. The parking space they had found was only a few blocks down Pike Street, and although Lothan wasn’t happy about walking uphill toward the hotel, he preferred knowing the trip back would be downhill. G-Dogg walked a step or two behind him, the ork’s powerful legs keeping up easily with Lothan’s longer stride. People on the sidewalk quickly gave way to the massive troll in the flowing coat and the dark-skinned ork following close behind him.

  Lothan didn’t pause to admire the traditional Japanese-style decor of the hotel’s lobby, or to appreciate the aromas wafting from the attached restaurant as its staff prepared for dinner. He went directly to the bank of elevators, punching the button for the ninth floor with one blunt finger. With a sidelong glance, he made sure the watcher he had summoned still hovered close by his left shoulder. He hadn’t called the spirit merely for parking, after all. It would serve as a watchdog for any signs of mystical trouble, allowing Lothan to focus on more mundane concerns.

  Once the elevator doors closed, G-Dogg shrugged, adjusting the harness he wore under his vest, twisting his neck in a stretch. Lothan likewise rested one hand close to the pistol worn underneath his overcoat. It was a familiar and reassuring weight, though it was really the least of the weapons at his disposal. When the doors opened, G-Dogg went out first, quickly scanning the hall before motioning for Lothan to follow. Counting off the room numbers, Lothan stopped at 937 and rapped firmly on the door three times. There was only a brief pause before it opened.

  The figure standing about a meter back from the door held a sleek pistol in a gleaming metallic, skeletal hand. It matched the white face paint emphasizing his sunken cheeks, narrow chin and long jaw, which made his head look like a skull underneath the dark glasses and the wide-brimmed hat. No emotion showed on that face, as still, steady and mechanical as the hand holding the gun.

  "Lothan," the dark-clad gunman said quietly.

  "Deacon," the mage replied in a cool tone, ducking his head to step into the room. G-Dogg followed. The Street Deacon stepped aside to allow them to enter the hotel suite, but as Lothan passed, he held out his free hand, also made of metal.

  Lothan sighed and reached slowly under his coat to produce his own weapon, handing
it over to the Deacon butt first. He took the gun and set it on the nearby vanity before holding out his hand for G-Dogg’s weapons. After the ork handed over his gun and his backup, the Deacon waved them on into the room, following just behind them.

  On the far side of the suite’s main room, windows looked out over the street below and toward the shadowy hulk of the arcology. The man sitting in one of the chairs by the window set his drink aside and stood to face them as they entered.

  "Lothan," he said, "I’m glad you could make it."

  "Akimura-san, this is not a meeting I would miss."

  "I believe you’re already acquainted with the Street Deacon."

  Lothan nodded. "We’ve met," he said vaguely. "Then I’m sure you’ve had the opportunity to appreciate his skill—as well as why I need someone like him on hand, given recent events."

  "Of course."

  Akimura smiled. "I’m glad we understand each other. Please, have a seat, I think we have a great deal to discuss."

  * * *

  "He’s dead. There’s nothing you can do."

  The voice was soft, warm, even sympathetic, but also utterly without mercy, saying what Kellan feared, what she did not want to accept. She cradled Orion’s limp, bloody body in her arms, rocking him gently as if he were only asleep, as if she could brush the hair away from his face and awaken him with a kiss.

  "Let him go, Kellan," the voice said.

  "No."

  "You have no choice. You have to let him go."

  She squeezed her eyes shut against the brightly shining light, pressing her face down against Orion’s hair. It still smelled of him, mixed with the ever-present scent of blood.

  "Come to me, Kellan." The voice was insistant. "I will make everything better for you. You will see. Come to me. I can help."

  "No," Kellan whispered, "no." She wanted to scream, to shout it, but she couldn’t seem to make her voice function properly. She couldn’t move. It was like there was a great weight around her neck, dragging her down.