Revolution: Book Three of the Secret World Chronicle

by Mercedes Lackey

  And suddenly, out of nowhere, as if her momentary thought of him had pulled all her intention towards John Murdock, she felt his powers falter, and the earth became unsteady beneath her feet. Her thoughts went blank for a fraction of a second.

  Shen Xue seized upon the moment. The flow of her attack abruptly changed, and she sliced downwards viciously, scoring Sera’s left wing, as Sera belatedly reacted and pulled it partly out of reach.

  As with the attacks by the Thulians that had touched her, the key was that she did not allow the pain to matter. But it was agony, and whiter, blinding flame followed the line of Jade Emperor’s Whisper down the inner face of her wing. Even Shen Xue shaded his eyes and flinched from the light for a moment, as the Seraphym’s true nature showed through the cut.

  She healed it without a thought. But it took more time to heal than the wounds caused by the titanic mortal weapons of the Thulians, things that disintegrated mere matter in a nanosecond. Jade Emperor’s Whisper could hurt her.

  Time to finish this.

  She went on the offensive for the first time, her sword engaging with Jade Emperor’s Whisper and binding it. “Enough,” she said, allowing a touch of anger into her voice. “This has gone far enough, and I have wasted enough time here.” She sensed the celestial blade recoiling from her own, and from her anger. With a flick of the wrist, she wrested Shen Xue’s sword from the General’s grip and sent it flying into the shaggy, unkempt bushes. “Trouble me no more with your concerns. I have told you I serve only the Infinite. You are a tactician. Find another solution to your problems.”

  And with that, she turned her back contemptuously, and flew off.

  Shen Xue could only stare for a few moments, breathless. It had been the hardest battle he had ever fought, and one of the few without clear victory. Pausing for a few moments to reflect on the fight, he collected his sword, replacing it in the “nowhere” place between space and time, and left the cemetery.

  This task would require quite a different approach.

  * * *

  Verdigris was trying desperately to clear his head. Things could have been going better as far as his plans went, but a day at the track always seemed to set him to rights. Through a few minor called-in favors and discreet words, he had gained the opportunity to test-drive the new prototype Bugatti Veyron Super Sport, earlier than most. It wasn’t even a full production car yet, just a camera-ready test mule, primped and prettied for the reviewers later this month. That didn’t stop him from putting it through its paces; Dominic was an expert driver, and loved nothing more than to take one of the supercars from his garage or an experimental design that he’d come up with out on the track.

  Usually that was good for clearing out the cobwebs. These beasts, with their twitchy handling and crazy speeds, required an enormous amount of his own attention. After he finished thoroughly wringing the car out at close to its maximum performance for an hour and a half, he pulled into the pit station near the starting line. A crew of mechanics and technicians ran over immediately, wasting only a few moments to shower him with praises for his performance before they began to inspect and do a teardown on critical components for the Bugatti. Behind the barrier for the entrance to the track Shen Xue was standing, arms crossed. Verdigris smiled broadly as he walked towards her, peeling off his racing suit. “Fascinating machine, isn’t it?”

  “A diversion for those that should be spending their time on more pertinent pursuits, brute.”

  “Too much work and no play isn’t good for the mind or the body, General.” He picked up a water bottle emblazoned with the Echo logo off of a nearby table, taking a swig from it. “So, what news do you have? Made any progress with our recaltricant friend with the wings?”

  “It depends on what you would refer to as progress.” Shen Xue steepled her fingers. “I am certain of what she is now, regardless of your stubborn disbelief. It will require an extraordinary effort and some extraordinary equipment to capture her, but I believe it can be done.”

  Verdigris frowned. “Tell me that you don’t honestly believe that she’s an angel.” He toweled his face off with a terry cloth hand towel that had Blacksnake’s crest sewn onto it. He sighed heavily. “I took you for a more rational individual, General.”

  “What you take for rationality, I take for stubborn refusal to accept what is fact,” Shen told him with undisguised contempt. “She is celestial in origin. As is my . . .” She shook her head. “Never mind. The point is, your insistence on referring to a spade as a hammer does not make it suited to drive nails.”

  “What a quaint little saying. Whatever. I care about results, General, the same as you; it’s why you’re in my employ, after all.” He set down the towel before leveling her with a stare. “Can you deliver, or should I find someone else that can?”

  “That will depend on your ability to acquire the tools I will need.” The General narrowed her eyes. “They are precise, they are absolutely required, and they must be exactly what I ask for. No substitutes will do.”

  He waved his hand, smiling again. “Of course. Money is no object where this project is concerned, General. That just leaves one final question.”

  “Which is?” Shen Xue looked suddenly wary for a moment.

  “Do you take cash, or will a check do?”

  * * *

  John was on the roof of the building that held his private space. He called it a “squat,” presumably because he was squatting there without permission. Their conversation had been interrupted on the roof of the CCCP headquarters, and Sera was anxious to resume it.

  “Anxious.” That was new for her. Like so many other emotions. She had never suffered anxiety before. It was as if mortal emotions were infectious, a virus she could somehow contract. Anxiety . . . fear . . .

  There had been a moment of fear when Shen Xue had hurt her. Pain, she was used to, at least in the form of the all-obliterating weapons that the Thulians used. She was fully prepared for pain, secure in the knowledge that she could renew herself as fast as they could tear at her.

  But what Jade Emperor’s Whisper had done had not been so easy to remedy. The sword had the potential to cripple her in a way not even the Thulian weapons did. Of course, all she needed to do was be aware of that, and take steps accordingly, but . . . she had not known such a thing was even possible until now, and that made her afraid, if only momentarily.

  John saw her coming, as she intended. He waved; she took that as invitation and touched down.

  “Welcome back, Sera. Thought my sturdy Russian comrades might’ve scared you off for good last time.”

  She smiled a little at that. “I am not sure that Untermensch would even be able to see me. Best he not see you speaking to the empty air.” She spoke aloud, carefully confining her “voice” to ears alone. She knew that John preferred that as opposed to mental communication.

  “He’d probably just think that I’d been hanging around Ol’ Man Bear too much; finally driven me nuts.” He took a drink from a bottle of beer that he had been holding. By the way he moved, she could tell that he had been injured recently; but it was not those injuries that had caused her to falter. Something more had happened to him, and somehow, she had felt it, and that had taken her attention from her own battle, making it possible for Jade Emperor’s Whisper to strike her.

  “You are hurt,” she said with concern.

  He waved his hand dismissively. “I’ll heal up; been hurt a lot worse than this before.” He turned to face her, resting his elbows against the edge of the roof’s wall. “Somethin’ was buggin’ you the last time we spoke.” John gauged her for a moment. “It still is, isn’t it?”

  “What happened, when you fought?” she asked. She didn’t ask who it was, that was irrelevant. She hesitated, then confessed, “Something happened. I think what happened to you was the cause.”

  He looked puzzled. “I don’t understand. Me getting hurt? That affected you somehow?”

  “It was more than your injuries. Something else
happened.” Her eyes flared with light. “Please, what was it? I—we are connected somehow, John. I do not know why . . .” But her voice trailed off, because she suspected, even if she did not know for certain.

  John sighed, obviously reluctant. “I didn’t wanna worry you. Back on the last op, I ran into someone. Well, more like I bumbled my way into a trap. It was set up by Ubermensch, one of the Kriegers’ heavy hitters. He apparently doesn’t like the cut of my jib, or something; he’s keen to see me turned into a smear on the ground.” He took another pull of beer before he continued. “Despite it being a decently laid-out trap, I was able to get the better of ’im. I had the murderin’ bastard on the ground, and I was gonna finish him . . . but I couldn’t. It was like all the energy ran out of me in an instant.” He looked into her eyes, plainly concerned. “The fires died instantly; it was like I had run outta steam.”

  “I felt that,” she said, slowly. “I do not know what it means. But I felt that. And People’s Blade saw me falter and cut me—”

  She had not meant to say that aloud but it was too late to call it back.

  John set down his beer. “Wait, hold up. Fei Li attacked you?”

  She nodded. “I think . . . wait, let me sort.” She sifted through immediate future and past. “It seems,” she said bleakly, “that Fei Li has thrown in with Verdigris. And although he is head of Echo . . . I do not understand why she would attack me.”

  “Go on.” She could almost feel the cold anger emanating off of John. His friends, his comrades, and he himself had been betrayed. But that was only a small part of it, she thought.

  “Why . . . why are you so angry?” she asked.

  His demeanor changed instantly, as if he had been snapped out of a trance. “I’m sorry. Fei Li’s gone back on every promise she’s made to the CCCP. Nat’s gonna be pissed—though I’m a little fuzzy on the details of how I’m gonna break this news to her.” He looked down at his feet for a moment. “If y’wanna know the truth of it, though, I’m furious that she hurt you. I didn’t even think that such a thing was possible, given how powerful y’are.” He let the implied question hang there.

  “It is the sword,” she told him. “It was created by a celestial being. It would not matter if I did not take physical manifestation, but . . . such things can hurt me.” She felt vexed all over that she had allowed it. “But only if I am careless. I will not be again.”

  John shook his head. “You won’t have to worry ’bout her anymore. I’ll make sure it gets handled; she’s one of ours. We’ll bring her in.” He was adamant in his conviction about this; Sera knew that he wouldn’t stop until People’s Blade was stopped. But did he realize how much of an adversary she would prove to be?

  “She is very powerful,” Sera began to warn him, with a little reluctance. How much to warn him about? Should she tell him that Fei Li was no longer the controlling entity, that Shen Xue had taken over completely?

  “I’m no pushover, darlin’. If I can take the likes of that windbag Ubermensch, I think I’ll be all right with Fei Li.”

  She was distracted by his phrasing. “The Red Djinni called me darlin’ . . . and now you. Why is that? Does it have a meaning I do not know?” Her brows furrowed. “I hope it does not mean ‘do not worry your pretty little head’ . . . I do not care for that.”

  “That crook called you that, too, huh?” John seemed to bristle slightly. “I know you can take care of yourself; you’re too smart for me t’say ‘do not worry your pretty little head,’ nevermind the fact that it is pretty. I’m just sayin’ that you’ve got help.” He grinned lopsidedly.

  “It . . . seems strange . . . to have help that is not one of the Siblings,” she said, blinking. “I should beware of pride. It does go before a fall. I am not the Infinite,” she added, reminding herself. Then she smiled shyly. “Thank you.”

  He shrugged casually. “Ain’t nothin’, Sera. You’d do it for me just the same, right?”

  She nodded, seriously, adamantly. “I would. I have.” Again, something that just slipped out before she realized it. This speaking aloud was treacherous!

  John cocked his head to the side, his grin turning mischievous. “I was just teasin’ a little. But, now that we’re talkin’ ’bout it—what did you mean by ‘I have’?”

  “The night when you came to CCCP,” she replied, hesitantly, compelled to speech because she was, by her nature, compelled to the truth. “There was a sniper. He . . . was startled by what I said to him, and fell. There have been other times . . .” Perhaps best to leave it at that.

  “Huh. So I really do have a guardian angel.” He smiled genuinely, not one of his guarded smiles—she had been learning the difference as of late. “Good to know.”

  “Well . . . you must take more care,” she admonished. “So that I do not have to. No more permitting yourself to be lured into traps, please.” She was trying to make a joke, as she had with the Djinni.

  John chuckled, then offered a mock salute. “Affirmative, Commissar.”

  She laughed with delight, made him a little bow, and fanned her wings to take her upwards. She chose her favorite perch, the faux-Roman temple atop the high roof. She felt herself smiling. And wondering. All these emotions, these . . . feelings. She had not experienced them when she first became an Instrument. In fact, it had been some time before she had noticed them.

  It seemed . . . she sorted through the past, dispassionately. “Yes,” she said aloud. The pattern was there. The more she connected to John Murdock, the more she felt.

  This was good in a mortal; connections were important. But was it good for her? She made herself still, and listened, but the Infinite did not answer. Neither This is not permitted, nor This is permitted.

  Finally, she shrugged. Best to take a leaf from John Murdock’s own book. “It is easier to beg forgiveness than ask permission.”

  After all, forgiveness was always possible.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “Heart Like a Wheel”

  CODY MARTIN AND MERCEDES LACKEY

  Life was getting to be one uncontrolled tumble after another. Oh, I could put a good face on it, we all could, but . . .

  Let’s just say things had gotten so unpredictable that Mom called to tell me all of Department 39’s seers had gone offline.

  I sure as hell couldn’t blame them.

  * * *

  After the throw-down in that abandoned farm, the CCCP HQ felt like a haven of peace and quiet. There was Bear yelling at the television, the familiar machinery noises out of the garage, even Unter marching through random rooms swearing under his breath seemed sane compared to the world outside. John had the feeling that even if the Kriegers descended again with five times the force they’d had before, Nat would just throw a commemorative ashtray at the door and mount up the troops as if it was nothing more than an annoyance. Things just seemed to be falling apart faster and faster, and sometimes it all made him wonder if, after all, he was babbling in a corner of an asylum somewhere and all of this was an hallucination.

  In the day since the debrief, he’d been doing a lot of thinking. About the trap, Ubermensch, the Kriegers and the war, and more and more about Sera. The one thing that was troubling him the most was the information about Fei Li; how was he going to tell the Commissar? She would never believe the intel if he told her where it had come from; Sera wasn’t exactly the sort of “person” that Natalya would consider reliable. The allegation that Fei Li had defected and thrown her lot in with Verdigris was chilling, to say the least; she knew everything there was to know about the CCCP’s operation in Atlanta. If she wanted to, she could make things interesting for everyone at HQ, and not in a good way. He’d been doing his best to avoid the Commissar while he puzzled it out, but that plan shattered when she had Thea sent down to summon John to her office. No avoidin’ it now, I suppose.

  Still, he was a soldier at heart, and when he got an order, he obeyed it. Even though he really wanted to take a long stint at guarding a cot, or even go back t
o his squat for a piece, when Red Saviour called, he answered. He mustered to the Commissar’s office when ordered to, in a “new” pair of worker’s overalls. John knocked at the door, awaiting permission to enter.

  “In.” Saviour was nothing if not direct. “In” when you were allowed in the office, and crockery to the door when you weren’t. Often it was an ashtray filled with cigarette butts; it was a good thing that the Russians were all metahuman, since about half of them smoked like chimneys and a normal human might very well be dead of cancer or emphysema by now if they had tried to keep up.

  John walked in, stopped before reaching the desk, and came to attention. “Comrade Murdock, reporting as per instructions, Commissar.”

  For a moment, when she looked up and John saw the look in her eyes, he wondered if the crockery was going to get thrown at his head after all. “Have you noted the absence of People’s Blade?” she asked darkly. This was not the direction he had anticipated the conversation going. His mind flashed for a moment to Sera.

  “Fei Li? I have, Commissar. But it’s not unusual for several of the comrades to be gone on different operations at any given time, so I hadn’t given it much thought.” The hairs stood up on the back of John’s neck. Statements like that weren’t simply given out unless there was something unpleasant attached to them. What should he tell her? Spill everything now, about Fei Li, Sera, and Verdigris?

  “Fei Li is defected.” The reply was so flat that only immense rage could be behind it. “To svinya Blacksnake.”

  John was silent for a few moments. Well, that solves that problem. How to play this and toe the line? “I was . . . unaware, Commissar.” It wasn’t technically a lie; he only knew that Fei Li had gone over to Verdigris. Nevermind that that slick bastard controlled Blacksnake. He decided that now was a good time to shut up; it wasn’t his place to pry for more information, even though this meeting seemed to be somewhat more informal than he was used to with Natalya. She was disregarding some protocol, and her tone was . . . different. Something beyond the anger she was clearly feeling.