Fallen Angels

by Stephen Kenson

  She immediately turned and headed down the hall, nearly running into the figure that stepped out to bar her way. He was heavily robed and cowled, leaving his features entirely in shadow, but the tabard he wore over his robe bore the circled-cross logo. Jackie came to a stop just in front of him.

  "Password," the figure said in a deep and emotionless tone; more security ice, limiting access to the personnel and executive files. There was no way she could pass without responding. Jackie’s persona reached underneath her cloak, producing a scroll that she handed to the sentinel. The hand that took it was flat black, like a living shadow. It unrolled the scroll and a tiny point of red-orange light appeared at the center of the parchment. It quickly spread outward, eating away at the paper and leaving only charred black ash in its wake. In an instant, the scroll was consumed and vanished.

  "Password," the figure repeated, lowering its arms.

  Damn! Jackie thought. Her spoof program hadn’t managed to fool the password protection on the directory. Cross Corp probably had some new upgrades, so now she would need to take a more direct hand in getting past this thing. Quickly calling up the spoof program, Jackie’s fingers flew over the keys, tapping commands into the cyberdeck like a musician expertly taking well-worn chords to improvise a new tune. She adjusted the program’s parameters, compensating for the reactions of the security to her first attempt, aware that the ice was awaiting a response.

  In a moment, her persona handed another scroll to the sentinel, this one inscribed with fine calligraphy. He unrolled it without comment, and Jackie held her breath as the robed figure paused.

  Damn! There was another puff of virtual fire and the scroll was consumed into ashes, then nothingness. The robed figure was unmoved.

  "Password," it said again. Jackie knew she had already heightened the security program’s scrutiny, and it was only a matter of time before it decided to take more stringent measures to ensure her credentials. She was running out of time.

  * * *

  Kellan floated, surrounded by light. It was the most peaceful, calm sensation she could remember, like a memory of being safe and warm in her mother’s arms.

  My mother, she thought. Who was she?

  A beautiful woman, a voice whispered in her mind, so fierce and passionate, so unsuspecting of the power of love.

  Who’s there? Kellan wondered.

  I am here, the voice said. I have always been here, Kellan.

  Who are you?

  Kellan suddenly felt as if she was falling. Gravity seemed to reassert itself with a vengeance, and she screamed as she fell into a dark void. The warm, comforting glow of the light gave way to darkness—cold, hard and unforgiving. The light shining around her was a mere glimmer of what she had known, providing just enough radiance to cast dark shadows against walls of stone.

  The light illuminated the face and figure of a man, an elf. He stood in front of her, dressed in jeans, hiking boots and a dark sweater. Over it all he wore an open robe, like the one Lothan wore, its edges embroidered with graceful elven script in silver thread. His hair was honey-auburn and worn long, like Orion and other elves she’d met wore theirs, and his face seemed strangely familiar to her, though she was certain she’d never seen him before. He held out a hand, fingers spread wide in a gesture of forbidding.

  "Hold," he intoned. "By the power of this circle you are bound, by the power of your name do I compel you, by the rites and powers of the elements, I bid you now be manifest to do my will."

  Kellan felt like a weight was pressing down upon her. She tried to move, to speak, but it was as if invisible hands held her fast, clamped over her mouth, muffling her and resisting her struggles. She saw shadows move in the darkness behind the elf as he reached into the pocket of his robe with one hand, and withdrew something he clutched in his fist.

  "As a sign of your obedience," he said, "place your life within this stone." He opened his hand to allow a familiar amulet to spill out, dangling from its chain, which gleamed in the light. The jade stone seemed to glimmer from within, and Kellan recognized the amulet she wore, the one that belonged to her mother.

  It was as if the green stone pulled at her heart and soul, and Kellan could feel them drawn away, a glowing mist swirling, spiraling through the air. Her life was pulled into the stone like smoke, and the jade glowed faintly from within.

  "By this token you are bound," the elf intoned, "and so you shall remain, until by it you are freed."

  Kellan felt cold and tired, her struggles weakening. Then she saw the shadows move again in the edge of the light. Something stepped forward, a dark shape emerging. She was clad in form-fitting dark leathers, and a slim hand raised a small pistol, its surface flat black in the dimness, the cylinder of a silencer attached to the barrel.

  Look out! Kellan thought, but she couldn’t speak, and a part of her wondered if she should call out a warning at all. The gun chuffed: once, twice, and the elf jerked spasmodically as bullets tore through his chest. He didn’t even have time to turn, instead pitching face-first onto the floor. The black-clad figure didn’t hesitate, crouching by his side to scoop up the jade amulet that fell from his nerveless fingers. As she did, she glanced up at Kellan, face revealed in the light.

  Midnight.

  The look was only for an instant. Then she turned and ran from the light, disappearing into the shadows.

  "Aerwin!" Kellan heard a distant voice call out, followed by, "Marc!"

  A woman emerged from the darkness, dressed in sturdy street clothes and a close-fitting jacket of black synthleather. Her hair was cut short, her face a mask of concern and fear. She clutched an automatic pistol in one hand. Instantly, she dropped to her knees, fingers searching for a pulse at the elf’s neck.

  "Marc . . ." she whispered, rolling him over. "Oh, my God . . ." Blood had already begun to pool on the stone floor, soaking into the dark material of his sweater and robe, and the woman bit back a sob. She cradled his head, her free hand brushing gently along his neck. She felt for any signs of life, looking into his eyes, still wide open with shock and surprise. Tears began rolling unheeded down her cheeks, dropping gently onto his face.

  Then she bent down and gently kissed his lips, lowered him to the stone, and closed his eyes. With a look of grim determination, she rose and turned back the way she had come.

  "Wait!" Kellan called out. "Don’t go! Don’t leave me here!" she said, but the woman paid her no heed. She either didn’t hear or didn’t care as she rushed away, vanishing into the dark, leaving Kellan alone with the silent and still form of the elf lying on the stone floor.

  "No!" Kellan called out, struggling against the bonds that held her, but her movements were weak and feeble. Then, suddenly, she opened her eyes.

  "Take it easy, we’re out," came a familiar voice from beside her, as Kellan raised one hand to rub her aching head and tried to get her bearings.

  She was sitting in the passenger seat of a car as the road outside the tinted windows flashed by. The headlights illuminated a dark stretch of highway, surrounded on all sides by thick trees. In the distance, mountains loomed up, black shapes against the deeper black of the night sky, lit by the stars and the fullness of the moon. The hum and motion of the car were vaguely soothing.

  "Are you all right?" Midnight asked from the driver’s seat. She was handling the car smoothly, one hand resting on the steering wheel, eyes watching the road.

  "Unh. I think so," Kellan said, still rubbing her head. "What happened?"

  "You don’t remember?"

  "No," she said, trying to think back. "I remember meeting the Rinelle in Portland. . . . What happened?"

  "They dosed you with a sedative," Midnight said. Kellan thought back. Vague memories surfaced of being led, blindfolded, of the dank odors of the underground, and the smell of rust. She remembered the brief touch of a drug patch, the warmth of it spreading into her veins before she could react, then sinking down into darkness just as she realized what was happening.

  "Why?
" she asked.

  The elf gave a slight shrug. "They tagged you as a mage," she replied. "Said it was the only way they could be sure their safety wouldn’t be compromised."

  "I don’t remember," Kellan muttered. "Must have been strong stuff."

  "I honestly didn’t expect you to wake up quite so soon."

  Kellan sighed. "I had this awful dream," she said. "Really weird."

  "What was it about?" Midnight asked, and before Kellan thought better about it, she was telling her— until she got to the part where she had recognized the woman who shot the elf in the back, taking the amulet from him. She trailed awkwardly off into silence. "Really? Then what happened?" Midnight asked.

  "I’d . . . rather not talk about it," Kellan muttered. "Where are we, anyway?" She looked around at the dark landscape passing by, but nothing was familiar.

  "Outside of Portland," Midnight said.

  "Salish territory?"

  "No, still in Tir Tairngire."

  "How long was I out?" Kellan glanced at the car’s digital clock. It showed it was past midnight.

  "Over an hour."

  "But we’re still in the Tir?"

  "Yes," Midnight replied.

  Why were they still in elven territory? The border with the Salish-Shidhe Council was just on the other side of the river from Portland. Even if they left the city on the eastern side, why not head north and out of the country as soon as possible?

  "Why are we slowing down?" Kellan asked instead, as Midnight slowed the car. She turned off the road, into what looked like a rest area to Kellan, coming to a stop once they were in the empty parking lot.

  "We’re here," Midnight announced. "Get out of the car, and do it slowly."

  That’s when Kellan noticed the gun in Midnight’s other hand, pointed right at her.

  Chapter 17

  Kellan’s parents?" Orion asked.

  Akimura nodded. "At least part of what Midnight told Kellan was true. Kellan’s mother was a shadowrunner in Seattle who went by the street name Mustang. What Midnight didn’t tell her was that Mustang actually worked for Cross Applied Technologies, and I was her partner. We worked undercover, operating in the shadows, but also funneling information back to the company. It provided Cross with an insight into the shadows, as well as a useful resource for shadow ops. So naturally, when we heard rumors about a top-flight magical researcher in Tir Tairngire looking to defect, the company was very interested, even more when they found out who it was.

  "Twenty-five years ago, Dr. Marc Thierault was one of the brightest new minds to come out of MIT&T’s thaumaturgy program. Cross Applied Technologies helped pay for his education, but Thierault was an elf, and he was lured away from his corporate R&D job by an offer from Telestrian Industries."

  James Telestrian gave an elegant shrug at the glance directed at him. "Thierault was a brilliant researcher," he said, "and Tir Tairngire needed people like him.

  He understood that, and the importance of creating a homeland for our people."

  Akimura allowed that observation to pass without comment. "Not surprisingly, Cross didn’t see it that way. When Thierault absconded to Tir Tairngire, they protested, but the Tir government refused to acknowledge corporate extraterritorial rights, and declined to give him up. The company ultimately decided Thierault wasn’t worth causing trouble with the Tir. At least, not then."

  Telestrian spoke up, leaning forward with his elbows on his desk. "Dr. Thierault specialized in the study of conjuring, with an emphasis on powerful spirits and the astral metaplanes. His theories were cutting-edge; they were supposed to give us new insights into how spirits were summoned, and where they came from.

  "One of the limits on conjuring is the difficulty in bridging the distance between the astral and physical planes. Dr. Thierault theorized that certain places and times offered stronger interfaces between the two planes, making it easier to conjure more powerful and capable spirits."

  "A few years before the Kano hypothesis, too," Lothan murmured.

  "His research even turned up an area in Tir Tairngire, in the Cascade Mountains, where the background mana was stronger than normal," Telestrian continued. "He wanted to test his theory, to see if it was possible to summon a more powerful type of spirit there."

  "What happened?" Orion asked.

  Telestrian shrugged. "Before we could plan the operation, the Council of Princes issued an edict. Thierault’s research was to be suspended, and the project scrubbed."

  "Why?"

  The elven executive smiled tightly. "We didn’t ask. You don’t question the Council’s rulings, and they didn’t feel the need to explain themselves. Thierault was supposed to be assigned to other, less sensitive research."

  "And he didn’t like that," Orion guessed.

  "To put it mildly. He protested, but, as I said, you don’t question the Council’s decisions. I didn’t know at the time why they cut off his research, but it was clear that the project was Thierault’s passion."

  "So he started looking for a way out."

  Akimura picked up the story. "And that’s where we came in. Cross offered to get Thierault out of Tir Tairngire, along with his research. All would be forgiven, and he would come back to the corp as a vice president of R&D, with the chance to finish his research. Mustang and I were given the assignment of getting him out of the country. There was just one potential hitch."

  "The Council became aware of Marc’s . . . discontent, shall we say," Telestrian added. "So they assigned him a bodyguard named Aerwin Dir Tanari to keep an eye on him for ‘security reasons.’ "

  "Midnight," Akimura said, and Telestrian nodded. Akimura picked up the narrative again. "What the Council didn’t plan on was Midnight having her own ambitions. She was supposed to be keeping Thierault safe from any outside influences, but she was also learning all about his research. Thierault was a magic geek, all too willing to discuss what he’d discovered and had been forbidden to talk about to anyone else. So, when we made arrangements to slip into Tir Tairngire and begin surveillance on Thierault to look for an opportunity to get in contact with him, we were surprised when his bodyguard got in contact with us.

  "At first we thought we were fragged, but Aerwin offered us a deal: if we would help to get her out of the country, as well as Thierault, she would help us arrange it. Naturally, we were cautious, in case the offer was some kind of trap to lure us out into the open, but she gave us enough information to make us believe it was genuine, and she did arrange to put us in contact with Thierault.

  "What I think Aerwin didn’t expect was for Marc and Mustang to hit it off so well. She’d been leading Thierault on a bit, dangling the promise of some romance in front of him, I suspect, but from the moment he met Mustang, he didn’t have eyes for anyone else. And the feeling was mutual. I know Mustang had a hard time of it, because she tried to stay professional and not get involved, but she couldn’t manage it. The two of them became . . . involved. I really think Mustang was thinking of getting out of the biz once the run was over. At the very least, she knew they would be working for the same company, and that meant they would have a chance to be together."

  "Wait a minute. Then Thierault—?" Orion interjected.

  "Was Kellan’s father, yes."

  "Kellan’s father was an elf?" Orion asked. "But how come—?"

  "Not all the offspring of elf-human couplings are elves," Lothan said gently. "It does explain Kellan’s considerable magical talent, however, among other things."

  Akimura went on. "It took time to arrange things to get Thierault out of the country, and to clear an extra extraction with the company. We also had to set up the right opportunity, and Cross wanted proof of the value of Thierault’s theory."

  "What kind of proof?"

  "The practical kind, of course," Akimura replied. "So we arranged to take Thierault to the Cascade Mountains so he could try his experiment, then immediately get out of Tir Tairngire, before we were discovered. Everything went smoothly until Aerwin turned o
n us. She shot Marc in the back and took the amulet he was using as part of the summoning ritual. I went after her. We struggled, and I managed to get the amulet, but then the Tir Peace Force showed up. We had to run. We barely made it out in one piece. Naturally, the whole mission was a disaster, and Cross disavowed us. We went to ground in Seattle, but kept moving, working the shadows. It was a couple of weeks later that Mustang found out she was pregnant.

  "She decided she couldn’t end the pregnancy, and I respected her decision. She did what she needed to do to protect her baby and, when Kellan was born, she gave her to her sister in Kansas to raise until she could retire from the business, set herself up with a new identity and raise her daughter herself.

  "What we didn’t count on was Midnight. Aerwin hadn’t given up on getting Thierault’s research, and she hadn’t forgotten what happened in Tir Tairngire. She was in exile, on the run from the Tir authorities, but she found plenty of work in the shadows in Seattle and elsewhere. Eventually, she tracked us down and made her move.

  "Mustang left Thierault’s amulet with me for safekeeping, which is what kept it from Midnight when she ambushed Mustang. I never heard from Mustang again."

  "Midnight . . ." Orion began.

  "Killed both of Kellan’s parents," Lothan concluded, "and will do the same to her, if we don’t act, and quickly. Toshiro, I think we’ve explained enough. We need to figure out where Midnight and Kellan are headed."

  "I know exactly where they’re going," Akimura said with a grim nod. "Where this all began, so Midnight can finish what she started." He turned to Telestrian. "We can get there on our own, but it would be faster and easier if we had help."

  The elven executive gave the fixer an appraising look. Certainly, it would be easier for him if the whole affair never came to light, but would he try to keep it quiet by helping them, or by ensuring that they never got the chance to tell anyone else what they knew? He tapped a control on his desktop.