The Last Archon

by Richard Watts

  “Okay. Line up behind me.” Hayden moved to the doorway, still covered by the wall of sorcery. He glanced back over his shoulder to see Vivian hitch her purse over one arm and cradle it like a football. Behind her, Smythe had angled her gaze down and let her eyes unfocus. The officer took two slow breaths in and out, mastering herself. She held her gun by her thigh.

  Vivian placed her hand on Hayden’s shoulder, and he took a steadying breath himself. He placed his left forearm flush against the force wall and melded it to his armor. He planted his feet and braced the door with his free hand.

  “Ready?”

  “Ready.” Smythe said in a voice of granite assurance.

  “O-okay,” came Vivian’s reply a second later.

  “Go!” Hayden barked.

  He withdrew the whole wall construct, collapsing it into a tower shield that slid seamlessly out the doorway as he marched forward, knees bent, and rolling heel to toe. Vivian filed out right behind him.

  Bullets sparked off the shield before Hayden even reached the railing, shoving against the top half of the construct and threatening to throw off his balance. Hayden widened the shield and shortened it by a couple of inches. Two more bullets flattened themselves against the left edge. The impact pressed Vivian’s side against his back.

  “Slide left!” shouted Smythe as she exited the apartment.

  “Do you see the shooter?”

  “No, and I don’t hear him either.”

  Hayden realized she was right. None of the shots came with the expected clap of gunfire. He twisted at the waist, awkwardly marching sideways. Vivian and Smythe moved in a crouch, keeping their heads covered by the shield and pacing him. Everything depended on seamless motion.

  They crawled down the length of the building. The muscles in Hayden’s arms and upper back burned against the weight of the heavy shield. He kept his eyes locked on the new construction visible above the trees a street over. Vivian said that’s where the shooter was, but no muzzle flash lit the dormer of the incomplete home, and no more bullets flung themselves at him.

  “Stairs!” Vivian called.

  Hayden paused, resting the shield fully on the ground as Vivian and Smythe took the turn onto the stairway. They scrambled down, and Hayden followed, lifting the shield overhead and using it as a tilted roof of cover. He lost sight of the shooter’s perch a few steps down. Vivian and Smythe crowded him at the edge of the metal steps, doing their best to keep the stairs between the sniper and their unprotected heads.

  “Okay,” Hayden breathed. “Now for the risky part. Keys.” Vivian plucked his jingling key ring from her purse and sifted through the ring with trembling hands. Smythe reached into her pocket and pulled her hand back out, flexing her fingers into one of those bands like an old telephone cord. Two large keys dangled from her wrist as she braced her left hand under the gun in her right.

  “If he’s gonna take another shot, this is where he’ll do it,” Smythe stated. Sirens sounded in the distance. “He’s out of time.”

  “So are we. Delphi, you ready?”

  Vivian nodded, eyes wide. Hayden gripped her hand and squeezed.

  “You can do this. Don’t fight them. Just distract them long enough for the police to get there.”

  “I know!” she barked. Vivian grimaced. “Sorry. I’m sorry. Just do this before my nerves get me.”

  Hayden nodded and released her hand. He took two quick breaths and slid out from behind the stairwell, keeping tight hold of the glowing shield. Blood pounded in his ears and he strained against a shot he knew was coming. Two shots thwacked against the construct a half-second apart, then a third shattered against the curb, sending chips of concrete and splinters of metal spattering against his armored shin. Hayden dropped to one knee behind the shield.

  “Now you see me…” He thinned the construct and pushed it out in an arc, adding height and curving the whole eldritch edifice back in a rounded wall that encompassed both the police cruiser and his Toyota.

  “...Now you don’t.” Hayden turned back to yell, “Go!”, but Smythe had already shoved Vivian into motion. They moved in a quick crouch, hustling to the Toyota. Smythe covered Vivian with her own vest ensconced body as the dark-haired girl hopped in, cranked the car, and left momentary smoke behind as she threw the vehicle into reverse.

  A brief flash of silver light glimmered in Vivian’s eyes as she continued backward out of the parking lot. Terror strangled Hayden as he watched the car juke left a split second before a bullet punched a hole in the roof, tearing a puff of stuffing from the passenger seat. The car pulled cleanly onto the main road and disappeared behind rows of trees and duplexes.

  Anger burned the fear away, and the wheels in Hayden’s head started turning again. Smythe charged toward her cruiser and he rushed to join her, flinging himself into the passenger seat as she cranked the vehicle. The ever-nearing sirens grew muffled as he slammed the door shut. Hayden called up a new construct just under the roof of the cop car. Fatigue gnawed at him, but he pushed the weariness aside.

  “Guarantee he’s rabbiting,” Smythe said. “We’ll never make it around the block in time.” Hayden glared at the shadows hanging over the treetops.

  “Then just drive straight.”

  “On what road?”

  Hayden bared his teeth and let the shield wall collapse into firefly sparks.

  Enzo Ansara loved the quiet. Wrapped in the bubble of his power, no sound could touch him, not even the breath in his lungs or the blood in his veins. Only sight and touch lived here. The pulse of his breathing, muscles expanding and contracting in slow, even waves. The weight of the rifle as it swung gently to track the silhouettes behind the translucent wall fifty yards from his position. The swift kick and release as he sent a bullet sailing toward the pretty girl’s head when the toy car backed into view.

  She spun the wheel in absolute silence, and he blinked in bemused admiration as she dodged the kill shot. Enzo missed, on occasion, but this annoyed him. Somehow, despite his power and the flash suppressor on his rifle, they’d determined where he’d chosen to shoot from. Next time, he’d use a knife. It was usually as effective and always more satisfying to feel the life leave a target, rather than simply watch on from dozens of yards away.

  No matter. He could still accomplish his directive. Granted, he’d have liked to take down another Prime, but Wolfe apparently had a soft spot for the boy with the energy armaments. All he had to do was keep them here for another thirty seconds. Enzo returned his focus to the wall of rippling light that hid his quarry. The instant their vehicle moved, he would aim for the tires. One burst and they would be stranded.

  The wall of light dropped, and Enzo adjusted his aim, only to find the car leaving the ground.

  What? He mouthed and looked up from the scope. The policewoman drove straight towards his perch on a bridge of golden light that built itself a few feet in front of her. Time for Plan B.

  Enzo let his power drop and rolled to his feet, leaving the gun behind and scooping up his motorcycle helmet. The police cruiser’s heavy engine growled at him like a charging tiger.

  He raced down the stairs and flung himself out of the back door of the unfinished house, jamming his helmet on. He’d parked his motorcycle in the limited shade offered by the shell of un-bricked walls. He leapt onto it, kicked the engine to life, and spewed gravel behind him as he pulled away from the construction and onto the asphalt.

  No sooner had he made the corner than the police cruiser raced down from the sky two feet behind him. The chase was on.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Hayden let the energy bridge collapse and sank into the seat. His eyes burned, and his muscles ached. He’d never held constructs so long in such quick succession before and the lack of rest took a toll.

  Smythe spoke on the radio, updating her dispatcher with their position. The presumed shooter pulled away from them on his silver motorcycle but stayed on the roads. Cars honked and swerved to a stop as the pair of vehicles rushed p
ast. The lights-and-siren routine cleared the way for them and their quarry both. When the bike leaned into two quick turns, east then south, Hayden finally recognized the trick.

  “He’s jerking us around, trying to move us away from Wolfe.”

  “Well then he’s gonna get caught, and we can use him as leverage against the lawyer,” Smythe replied. “Backup is starting to circle him now.”

  “It’ll take too much time!” Hayden exclaimed and rolled down his window.

  “What are you doing?!” yelled Smythe.

  “Just get me close!” Hayden screamed back over the sudden roar of road noise and sirens. He leaned his head and shoulders out of the car as the bike juked right onto a side street.

  Smythe spun her wheel and sent the cruiser into a sliding turn behind him, taking them just past the front bumper of a hatchback. The car rumbled as she straightened out of a slight fishtail and poured on more speed. The distance between them and the bike narrowed. Hayden gauged the shot and the traffic, breathing fast. He’d done this before, though never in these circumstances.

  He summoned up a frisbee construct in his right hand, steadied himself with his left, and flicked it with his forearm and thumb. The little plate of light zipped away in a shallow arc, passing the biker in a blur. The shooter glanced back, expecting another attack. As he did so, the disc skipped off the pavement a few feet in front of his bike.

  Hayden reached for the Axiom and touched his frisbee through it. A line of fire seared up his arm and into his eyes, ringing his head like a gong, but the disc expanded into a ramp three feet wide. The bike’s front wheel hit the ramp before its rider could react, catapulting the crotch rocket and the man into the air.

  Smythe said an impolite word and slammed on her breaks, swerving to avoid the immovable plane of energy suddenly blooming in the middle of the lane. Hayden released the Axiom and tracked the flight of the shooter through squinted eyes and double vision.

  The man somehow managed to angle his jump off the street, away from the lane of oncoming traffic. In midair, he kicked the bike away, reaching rangy arms for the brick side of a single-story laundromat. Hayden expected him to kick off or scrape down the rough stone surface. Instead, the instant his hands touched the wall he fell into a roll along it. One, two tight barrel rolls, and his gloved hands slapped out, shoving him up into a staggering run angling toward the roof.

  “Son of a bitch!” exclaimed Smythe. She slammed a fist onto the wheel, then turned to Hayden. “He is not getting away. Do you have one more ramp in you?”

  Hayden smiled wearily, panting, and leaned out of the window again. “Gun it.”

  Smythe’s eyes glinted and she pulled the car into a tight turn in the middle of the street, tires smoking and squealing as she stepped on the gas. The instant the nose of the vehicle pointed at the laundromat, Hayden called on more Axiom, fashioning another ramp eight feet across that angled up to the lip of the rooftop.

  The police cruiser lurched as it hit the ramp, and Hayden had to adjust it, adding thin raised lines for traction. The car zipped upward and they flew onto the roof. The shooter turned, frozen for a split second as the car came barreling toward him. Smythe spun the wheel and pulled the handbrake, sending the car skidding sideways on the pea gravel littering the roof of the building. The helmeted assassin sprang sideways, rushing out of the path of the cruiser and ducking behind an industrial air conditioner.

  Smythe had her door open even before the car had come to a full stop. She stepped out, drew her weapon, and aimed at the metal box the shooter hid behind.

  “Atlanta P.D.!” Smythe shouted. She said something else, but a pressure wave bubbled over the rooftop and sliced her voice from the air.

  Hayden staggered out of the car on the far side from Smythe and their quarry, frantically turning his head for any sign of movement. He let the ramp construct die and circled the roof, moving counterclockwise away from Smythe. He couldn’t even hear himself breathing. In that pregnant stillness Hayden had to fight down the tension that invaded his limbs. He edged around further, half-crouched. He caught the barest flash of red from the shooter’s helmet before the man rolled left and came up shooting.

  Two bullets struck him on the left side like kicks from a horse, driving him down to one knee and forcing the breath from his lungs. Hayden kept himself from falling over with his right hand and pressed the other to his side. He could feel the warmth of the energy seeping from more spiderweb cracks in his armor. He looked up to find Smythe and Helmet Head reenacting the O-K Corral.

  Both Smythe and the assassin fired in eerie silence, fire splitting the air, invisible bullets chewing through the roofline, and the police cruiser in little bursts of dust and rupturing metal. The shooter kept moving, varying his pace, but always making progress toward the edge of the roof. Smythe tracked her target calmly as the rear window shattered unnoticed behind her. Hayden wanted to rush forward, but he couldn’t see a way to step cleanly between their lines of fire. His armor might stop another shot, but no more than that. He stayed where he was.

  A shot hit Smythe and shoved her back into the interior of the car. Hayden screamed for her, but nothing came out of his throat. Her head collided with the top of the frame and rocked forward as she slumped out of view. Hayden pushed to his feet and ran straight at her killer, lines of Axiom forming in his hand, but the assassin turned and raced toward his escape. He planted a foot on the lip of the roof and shoved off, leaping outward.

  Hayden’s lasso tightened around his right foot, and the rope of energy jerked taut. The man swung down to slap the side of the building face first, legs kicking above the roofline. Hayden hauled back, hard, and the shooter slid back up and toward him, but it was like pulling someone through mud. He reeled his rope in a foot, gripped with both hands, and yanked.

  A new pressure wave shimmered through the air, and sound crashed back into being. Sirens, car horns, the purr of the police cruiser’s engine, and the heavier whir of the industrial air conditioning machinery joined Hayden’s grunt of effort. The sudden thunder of noise rocked Hayden’s focus. The tension disappeared at the same moment and the man bounced back into view instantly, thrown a foot over the roof by Hayden’s pull. He twisted in midair, bringing his pistol to bear on Hayden with both hands. The shooter’s glare blazed behind the cracked faceplate of the helmet. Hayden twisted, trying to call up a shield on his left arm, but exhaustion weighted his limbs with lead and he knew he’d never make it in time.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Vivian pulled up two blocks from the location she’d found for one of Wolfe’s backup circles: one of the four-story, perpetually-under-construction buildings a little east of Olympic Park. She had to park in a handicap spot but figured Hayden could deal with a ticket more easily than Wolfe’s plan working out.

  She looked at the bullet hole in the roof for the fourteenth time since the drive toward the building. Thoughts danced through her mind like moths. She’d almost died. Again. Her side ached from Smythe’s tackle. She hoped Hayden and Officer Smythe were okay. She wished Hayden were here, that Mr. Deckard would call and tell her it was okay, that he would do the rest.

  A little voice whispered she shouldn’t be here. She was alone this time. Hayden couldn’t save her. Mr. Deckard wouldn’t come to the rescue. It was all down to her.

  And who was she, really? A waitress. A college sophomore. Certainly no heroine. Heroes’ hands didn’t shake non-stop unless they squeezed the wheel until their knuckles turned white. Heroes didn’t have to wipe tears from their faces. Heroes got out of the damn car. She hadn’t asked for this, had she? She’d been caught up in the action, in the adrenaline, in the boy. She could just go home and pretend it never happened.

  That thought made Vivian mad. She had asked for this, literally, when she’d asked Hayden and Mr. Deckard to train her. The moment she’d run into Hayden at the clinic, this was exactly what she’d wanted: to not be helpless, to not be alone, to make a difference, to be able to share who she
was and what she could do.

  Vivian scrubbed the tears from her face and stared at herself in the rearview mirror. “You’re out of time, V. Hayden trusted you with this. And you’re the only one here. Stop whining and do it, Delphi.”

  A little laugh bubbled from her lips at the silliness of giving herself a pep talk. Fear tinged the laugh, gnawing at her insides, and it almost turned into a sob, but it didn’t. It didn’t. Vivian took a couple deep breaths and closed her eyes. She reached for the river of Axiom and pulled up a thin runnel of it.

  Please, she begged. I need to see. Help me. It’s my only weapon, it’s all I have. I need to see. She drank the sweet, cold power and opened her eyes again.

  The world shone over-bright and filled with floating images of herself that started out clear as a photograph and faded into paler and paler shadows until they disappeared a block down the street. Vivian focused on the images, picking a single strand from the dozen or so possibilities. Her senses flashed forward.

  Vivian left the car and jogged down the street to a corner. Cars rolled lazily past her. She passed the window of the storefront she’d marked and peered inside. Dust, wood, and slabs of drywall covered the floor, along with cables running to electric lamps. A huge man, well over six feet and carved of solid muscle, loitered in the middle of the long, open room along with a couple of others. He stood over the other, the only one wearing a suit; the rest dressed in jeans, long-sleeved shirts, and work boots. They argued about something.

  Vivan tried to read his lips, find a fire alarm, something. The world grew steadily brighter, and the light stabbed at her. The man glanced up and noticed her peaking in. He shoved the contractor aside like a child and stalked forward. Pain thrummed behind Vivian’s eyes and the light continued growing more intense, threatening to wash out her sight completely. She blinked against it and turned to run, but the door boomed open and something hard and heavy landed on her shoulder. She screamed as darkness consumed the light and plunged the world into shadow.