by JM Guillen
He did not have a weapon but instead wore one of the slivers of sharpened sunlight upon his arm. It gleamed verdant green, the green of an infinite forest with darkened corners and bestial creatures.
“Come on!” he crowed as he swerved toward me and slammed his palm against the device he wore.
I bounded, vaulting sideways as a barrage of splintered light screamed from his arm and tore into the stone where I had just stood.
Landing, I had my weapon aimed before my feet touched ground. I curled my finger by instinct, muscle memory encouraging repetition, catching him on the shoulder, the chest, the face.
The young man spiraled off his mount and slammed into a gray-haired man also on one of the mechanical beasts. Both fell to the ground, and their mounts veered off to one side.
WHUF. An arrow tore through the air, less than a hand span from my head. It found its mark in the chest of a young woman who had slipped up behind me, an orange light burning upon her arm.
Her eyes widened with terror as she looked at the projectile in her chest. Screaming, she melted right before my eyes into charred and ruined flesh.
Watch yer back, Hoss.
I tilted my chin upward at him showing a feral splash of teeth.
We understood each other, this one and I.
Then, I turned toward the prey bearing down upon us from all sides. An unspeakable wail of lupine, primeval delight poured from my throat as I descended upon them. The sound of their lamentation was sweetness to me, a nectar of delight. My blade tasted the lives of a man of prime years and a young woman before they knew they were slain.
I leapt to the back of one of the metal beasts, killed the driver, and then collided with another. This rider, a man with a long blade, fell to mine, shock on his face.
Two women, lithe and garbed in black, died before they could scream.
Gleefully, I climbed into one of those great metal towers and slaughtered those within it. Then I turned their great cannon against them until it fired no more.
In the hidden corners of my mind, I tasted the honey-sweet spice of the blood of the fallen. I drank everything they were, everything they had been.
This entire time, I was stabbed and struck and shot. I took more wounds than I thought possible, and yet I stood. Their blood staunched my wounds. It fanned my ferocity, like wind against an ember of hunger and fury.
I growled my delight.
Around me, I heard the constant WHUF of the large man’s weapon, heralding strange miracle after miracle. As our foes closed in around us, he hurled them into the sky, caused them to fall into slumber around us, and held them in the grips of eternity, surrounded by a mirror-like prison.
“Back. Off!” he snarled as he fired.
His bolt struck the ground right in front of a man on one of those four-wheeled machines.
It came to an instant halt, as if the ground beneath it had grasped it with some unseen hand.
Yet, more of our enemy came. They poured out of the watchtowers and out of great metal doors that had been cunningly set in the stone walls of the ravine. They came with muskets, they came with blades, and they came bearing those tiny, curious sparks that allowed them to shape the world itself.
One of my pack, the dark-haired woman whose words curled at the edges, tore holes in the very fabric of the world. She sent her foes plummeting into them, only to bring them out somewhere in the distant sky. They fell, screaming as they died.
And yet, more of our enemy came. The stones beneath us drank the scarlet blood of pack and prey alike.
One of my pack, the clever man with midnight for skin, stole the minds of those who stood against us and forced them to slay their own kind. He crept and hid, stepping behind the eyes of one foe after another, turning their weapons back against those who stood at their sides.
And yet. More.
Even at this, no despair rose in my heart. I reveled in the dance, my laughter keened with wild, furious abandon. Those who fell before me wailed in horror, and a terrible darkness shone upon my brow.
Michael. My woman with the golden halo trotted up to me, blood splattered on her face and her clothes as well.
At the sight, a low, furious growl rumbled in my chest.
No, I realized, it wasn’t her blood, and I quieted.
While I was distracted, a slender man with a pistol fired, his bullet catching me squarely in the hip.
It felt like sharp fire in my body.
I half-spun, grunting with agony. My lips pulled back from my teeth with a feral snarl.
My haloed woman aimed her weapon at the slender man with no trace of hesitation or fear. Her weapon barked and sang as she fired, and her prey fell.
His blood was a delicacy. I could taste the memories of a long, violent life, two tongues lapping eagerly even as I gazed into her wintery eyes.
Yet, it was me drinking. His lifeblood flowed within me now. Strength surged from its sweetness.
I stood, amazed as the pain in my hip faded.
There are far too many. She spoke in my mind, her words unafraid. We need to—
Oh! I— That the man with the shadowed skin, the one who stole the minds of men. His words came accompanied with a sharp, truculent pain. I felt him in my mind and turned toward him before the words were finished.
Roses of blood bloomed on his black shirt. He trembled and then fell.
“Fuck my—!” A sharp spatter of curses erupted from my left.
My large packmate backed away from four separate opponents. He was surrounded by his mirrored constructs, but our foes were beginning to pin him in. He was hurt, hurt badly.
Others might be fooled by the ferocity in his tone or the way he stood against our foes…
But I could see it. He had spent much of his blood against our prey. From the way he limped when he walked, he seemed spent.
So tired, a distant part of my mind asserted.
Asset Delacruz has engaged the Wraith and is pushing ahead. I knew her words should mean something to me, but they did not. She spoke in a tongue foreign to mine. We need to regroup. We must hold this position.
She wanted something from me. There was the slightest bit of pleading in her voice, as if there were something she desperately needed but could not grasp.
Her brow furrowed. The fingers of her left hand pinched and plucked at something I could not see.
Oh, Michael. The words, whispered into my mind, were filled with sorrow. Come back.
Then, a slight and slender man ducked around one of the silvery walls, his eyes seeking the back of the large man. He drew a wicked knife, one that had a curve like the hip of a woman and a gleaming tooth for a tip.
I moved without thought, without choice. The steps of this dance were known to me, woven into me over thousands of years of wild, frantic hunts. I moved with elegant, deadly grace. Not one of my wounds pained me, each salved by the blood of my prey.
“What?” The man hadn’t even realized I was there.
He feinted to one side, then lunged, swiping at me with his gleaming blade.
A line of fire sliced down the left side of my face, but I paid it no mind. I laughed, joyous and wild, as I spun toward him, and my blade whispered through the air.
“Fuck!” He rolled backward, dodged to the left.
WHUF. WHUF. The man with the scorched beard fired his device, and from behind I heard the howl from my haloed woman’s weapon.
I did not turn to either of these, however. Every moment existed for my prey, every heartbeat a thrumming paean that sang for his death.
He backed away from me, frantic horror dawning in his eyes.
Michael! My woman screamed in my mind, her pain flooding through my senses as her name, Anya, found its place inside my skull.
I whirled, powerless to do anything else, and saw her struggle with a large man attempting to bring his weapon close to her face.
Behind them, almost a dozen more prey approached, bearing both muskets and wicked blades.
I sn
arled as I prepared to leap at the man who dared touch one of my pack, my Anya.
“There we are.” The whisper as cold as the blade that exploded into my back.
My eyes went wide. I looked down, seeing the toothed end protruding from my chest.
“Heh.” The man behind me whispered gleefully as he pulled his weapon free. “Just what you fuckers deserve.”
I staggered, gasping for breath. The pain burned like ice, and my blood ran in rivulets. The wound was deep. It would fill my lungs and then empty me. Wild, primal desperation filled me.
CannotDieHostVesselIsBrokenHostMustLive…
“One key.” The words boiled in my throat, twisted and broken. Blood gurgled on my lips. “One path.” I turned upon the man, and rage welled up in me like the fury of an exploding star.
With a final, impossible burst of strength, I fell upon him. This time, there was no blade, no pistol. Now, there was only desperate fury and needful wrath.
“How the—?” The man’s eyes went wide with slowly comprehending horror.
I fell upon him, teeth and claws, and slaughtered him with a dark and terrible will. I rent at his flesh with my bare hands, and my teeth found the softness of his neck.
I taught him of the death that walked the world before there were men to name it.
He screamed as I took, as I devoured.
So much blood.
I drank deeply of his essence—not with two inhuman tongues, but with my own. His warmth ran over my face and down my body. As I drank of his essence, fresh, immortal strength surged within me. The pain in my back faded. I filled with glistening truth.
Renewed. Restored.
I turned. What had happened with my pack? To my Anya?
“—unlikely.” Faster than I could see, she threw a hard punch, a warrior’s punch, into the face of the man she struggled with.
His nose cracked loudly, and he staggered.
“Funny little bitch, aren’t you?” he leered, blood running from his face. “I’ll—”
I smelled it before I felt it, before I heard it. From deep within the world, a rumbling roar made the very ground tremble. At first, it just one quick twitch, but then followed by a pealing CRAAAAAACK!
A terrible silence settled across the battlefield. Wide eyes glanced about, seeking something horrific and nameless.
It’s Sil! My packmate’s words sounded curled on the edges even in my mind. Her cry felt exultant, dripping with jubilation. She did it! Ar’Ghosa is—
Off in the far distance, unclean light crafted from ten-thousand unknown colors burst from the ground. It screamed in joyous triumph, a thundering sound we heard from what had to be many days away.
It streamed into the sky and struck against the bare stone that vaulted above us.
“The station…” No longer focused on his pain or vengeance, my Anya’s prey gaped. Terror filled him, changing his scent. “That means that—”
A second gouge of impossible light burst from the ground, closer than the first. It too screamed, an unholy cry of terrible and wrathful joy.
Around us, fear stalked within the hearts of our foe. Some had stumbled with the initial blast and now were stunned, eyes wide. Others backed away, shaking their heads in terrified negation.
Then a third blast. A fourth. Each came louder, closer than the last.
It’s following the line of the stations! My large packmate peered at the lights as they raged against the heavens. The stations are so close together, whatever she did—
Another otherworldly cry howled as a fifth lance of light thrust into the sky.
Around us, to a man, our enemies fled.
I’m placing your extraction at these coordinates. The dark-haired woman, the one who called the gates, whispered in our minds, her words frantic. Be ready.
Approximately four steps to my left, a circle of blue light appeared in my vision. I understood that the woman had sent it but not what it for.
I’ve got Stone. The large man went to where the other had fallen. Hoss, get you and the ice princess over here. He glanced my way as if he expected something.
Then he stopped in place and stared at me in horrified awe. His gaze dropped from my face to my clothes, and then came back.
Horrified silence echoed the wonder in his eyes.
“Fuck, Bishop.” He shook his head, not understanding what he saw. His one eye had widened, and his mouth hung open. “I mean… fuck!”
In the center of the woman’s blue circle, the world ripped open as a fissure appeared, scarlet and shining and made of a wordless song.
I turned from the man to the gateway, fascinated by its thrumming glow.
Michael. My Anya’s link was soft and somehow sad. She placed one hand on my shoulder. Let’s go, Michael. Let’s go home.
I could only stare at her and wonder at the sorrow in her eyes.
What had stricken her?
Michael? She touched my arm. Please.
I shook my head, as if bothered by a gnat.
Gotta go, Hoss. My friend, my brother, nodded to me. He tried to seem strong.
In the distance, the world ruptured again, and light howled into the heavens.
I gazed at it one last time, and then my Anya grasped my hand.
I let her lead me through the fissure.
I let her take me home.
59
I screamed so loudly I thought my throat would split and bleed. Hands on my head, I collapsed from the stunning onslaught of pain.
Slivers of white-hot iron sprouted from my bones. Ten thousand tiny, hungry teeth gnashed at my viscera. The claws of unseen beasts clawed at my eyes, and my blood ran warm.
I screamed.
—officially cannot take readings. My Anya’s voice was still soft, but harried, and wefted with fear. Hyper-Rationality is the only telemetry here.
I felt as if my skin were being peeled from me, long strips of flesh slowly torn away. I could hold them in place, could will it to stop…
But the act of even trying to stop the pain had shards of poisonous ice in my mind.
It was this place. The moment I stepped through the gateway, the world itself went to war with me. The very laws of nature chipped away at my mind, peeled me back with a chisel of sharpened torment.
IfICouldLeave…
I could not leave however. The gate we had come through was gone.
My head turned toward the dark-haired woman. She could send me back.
I could make her send me back.
It’s that hairy, four-armed fucker. My large packmate peered at me. He don’ like it here.
I tried to push myself to my feet, but every motion brought a thousand sharp agonies. The very space within this darkened tower felt hateful, made me pay for every movement.
Asset 108, the voice in my mind wasn’t a member of my pack but still familiar. Initiation code 020798361. Over-ride class four. Catalyst authorization 77202.
A spark ignited in my mind, brilliant with the fire of clarity. Even through the pain, I saw secrets I had forgotten, mysterious ideas about myself that I had somehow lost.
I gasped.
“Anya?” My skin felt as if it were on fire. “What are we—?”
Before I could finish my question, my body tore, shredded by some great and undeniable force. As if skinned alive, part of me ripped away.
Again, I screamed in agony. Falling to the floor, my body convulsed, foamed at the mouth. Words flooded my mind, words that I should have understood, my pack’s questions, their worry.
But understanding eluded me. All that existed was this fiery crucible of torment.
Then, with a shadowed whispering, it was gone.
I lay there, panting, covered in sweat.
Hoss? Wyatt leaned over me, and his oculus softly glimmered as he studied me. We good now? You done playing loup gauru?
“I…” I shook my head as I pushed myself to my feet. Pain still ran in trickles through my body, but it was fading, distant like a vanishing echo
. “I think I’m green.”
The front of my shirt was covered in sticky, drying blood. It covered my face, clung to my beard. My fingers were caked with it.
“What. The. Fuck?” Frantically, I wiped my mouth. My eyes darted to Wyatt and then to Anya.
He seems to be green, Catalyst. Anya crouched down next to me, her blue eyes seeming very wide. The creature has departed. Readings nominal.
His vitals are within parameters. Rachel had to be up to something; I felt her fiddling in my Crown. Yep. All systems normal and green.
I believe we have recovered our Asset. Anya nodded, relief apparent in her eyes.
Gideon? I scanned the area blearily, my mind taking a moment to catch up.
Wait. I knew this place. Sort of.
Even though I had never been here before, it had been in the part of Delacruz’s patch that I had actually perused.
We had entered The Spire. Specifically, where Delacruz had initially ignited her aperture on the now distant-seeming November 15.
I was actually apprised.
For once.
We stood on a metal dock that extended out into the center of the circular room. Looking up, it appeared that there were only a few floors above us before I saw the ceiling. Behind us, two large doors stood flush with the wall. In front of us, hanging in the center of the circular room, was a crack in space. The edge bubbled and roiled with a dark and terrible light as if space itself were boiling away.
Peering through it, I saw the ravine we had just left stretch out below us. I didn’t look down. I didn’t really want to know how high we were or how far to the ground below.
This had nothing to do with any alleged phobias.
Only moments ago, a desperate part of me had wished that I could find my way back to that place. I had considered Ar’Ghosa far superior to The Spire.
I was glad now that I hadn’t seen the fissure. I might have torn through my cadre to get to it.
I have Stone ready for transport. Delacruz crouched over the supine body of Liaison Stone.
His vitals look steady. Rachel obviously juggled more than one task; her link felt a bit frenzied. Initiate when ready, Delacruz. I have AES on standby at Facility Prime.
