At the same time, more of the hyena-men began to move in front of them, darting between the doors on either side of the hallway, leap-frogging closer and closer. Dread fired a few bursts down the center of the hallway, more to discourage their maneuvers than in hopes of actually hitting something.
"Inside, close the door and lock it," Dread said.
More heavy blows shook the far door on its hinges behind the desk, and Shifty fired into the door with a long burst, ending the assault for a second. There was a squeal, and then the pounding resumed, brown shapes visible through the bullet holes in the door.
He raised his gun to fire again, but Dread stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Don't do their job for them," the big man said. "Stay in front of Tara."
"So what do we do? Teleport down, all of us? What about Tara?"
Dread shook his head. "Only I go."
"Dread..."
"Shifty, you're falling apart. You don't have many more Tricks left in you. You send me down, I nail Polonius. Polonius drops, the teleport screen goes down, and Control can swarm this entire place with reinforcements."
Shifty thought it over, shook his head. "I still think I should go with you. You need me."
"She needs you," Dread said, pointing toward Tara. "To hold off those things until help arrives."
Both doors were shaking under the impact of heavy blows now, and dozens of misshapen throats giggled their desire to charge in and tear and rip.
"All right," Shifty said. "There's still more one problem."
Cass
My hands were starting to shake. Hey, sue me; I'm not some granite-nerved movie hero. A Vive Job has me at his mercy, and he's talking about stealing my soul. I was terrified.
I was terrified because I knew I couldn't stop him. There's no way for a non-mage to fight that sort of power, not for very long, anyway. Throw me in the middle of a firefight, send ugly creatures after me, fine; that I can handle, that I can fight, even if the odds are poor.
These odds were zero. They were going to hold me down, Polonius would tear my soul out of my body, and use that body to do to the entire city what he'd done to Stephen and Kerry. Or worse.
Better for me to die. Better for me to die, and deny that dead son of bitch his new body. Let him finish rotting away.
I'd decided that I couldn't wait for Dread any longer, that I was going to have to do something crazy to get myself killed before Polonius could possess me, when Dread's voice came back to save me.
"Cass, Dread. Listen up; I can get down there, I can teleport down there, but you have to get his shield down. Do you read me? You have to get his shield down."
Yeah, sure, no problem, Dread, I thought. I'll bat my eyelashes and ask the crazy dead guy nicely, he's sure to do it.
"Cass, it’s Shifty. He's got to drop his shield to work the Possession Trick. When he does, say the word 'now', and Dread will be there in three seconds."
Now. Beautiful. And if the Maestro could work his Trick inside of three seconds, then what?
Dread's voice again. "Hurry, Cass. We're about twenty seconds away from being overrun."
Twenty seconds. Swell. No pressure.
All right. Enough of this shit. I had to stop thinking about what couldn’t be done and focus on what I could do. What I would do. How I would rescue myself.
I had to get back into the game. Stop thinking like a victim. Turn this all around and take the damn initiative away from my enemies and start dictating how things were going to go. Make things happen on my terms, on my timetable.
It’s the only way to win a fight, and this one was a fight to the death. After hearing how bad that things could get if Polonius succeeded, after hearing how high the stakes were, I’d already decided… today, right now, no matter what the cost, that dead motherfucker was going back into the ground.
"You know what, Polonius?" I said, pushing up my sleeves mentally. "You're full of shit."
He didn’t laugh. "Really."
"Really. All this talk about wisdom, and peace, is so much delusional Vive Job crap. If all you needed was a live body, why didn't you take a janitor that was working here tonight? You didn't… you killed them all, didn't you? And this nonsense about having a master plan and drawing us in with the attack on the apartment building…why didn't you simply request that a hostage negotiator come in here, and then take his body? Or leave one of Squad Two alive on the first assault?"
Oh, he didn’t like that. In fact, it looked like Kerry and Wentworth, the formerly living members of Squad Two, didn’t much like the words that were coming out of my mouth either.
Good. I needed to provoke them. It was time to pour it on.
“For that matter, you could’ve let Squad Six land on the roof in their helicopter and take one of them alive. But no, you were too busy showing off your new toys.”
I walked over to the boardroom table and leaned up against it.
“There’s no master plan here,” I said. “Whatever you’ve been telling yourself, whatever you’ve been telling to these dead traitor assholes standing here with you… it’s all just smoke. Smoke you’ve been blowing up their ass, smoke that you’ve blowing up your own ass.”
He sneered at me. “Hardly.”
"Hardly? Pillars of fire torching entire buildings, ripping people inside out, hell, taking over this building of all buildings… you were practically begging the TV crews to show up and start filming. You don't want to spread wisdom or peace or any other noise like that… you want attention. You want validation. Hell, you’re desperate for it."
Polonius was silent. I could actually see my words cutting into him. Vive Job Psychology 101… They Are All Batshit Insane. Absolutely insane… but they can't stand to admit it. They can't stand it when a mirror gets held up in front of their face and they see how flawed and pathetic they really are.
“Oh, that stings, doesn’t it?” I said. “What did you think? That you’re a god? You’re a god returned to Earth, with some imaginary queen named Isis waiting for you to take your throne? Get real. You think you’ve uncovered the secrets of the universe, and we’re all just ants conspiring to keep you from attaining your destiny? Please. Maybe it’s a little more likely that your dead, mushy brain has been misfiring and sending you all kinds of delusional thoughts, and you’re desperate to cling to those delusions rather than face reality.”
Muscles twitched along his face, and he looked at me like he wanted to strip me of my hide with a whip. I almost had him. So I kept pushing him, with the best weapon I had… the truth.
“You see, Maestro, you’re nothing special. I’ve taken down more of you crazy dead fuckers than I can count. And every one of you Vive Jobs has had the same lunatic story…. God Complex. So you play your pitiful games, killing and destroying just so someone will pay you some attention and make you forget for a while that you're nothing but a broken mirror that can’t be fixed. Nothing but shards of glass. Take a good look at yourself, Polonius. You're no god. You're nothing but a rotting chunk of meat who knows a few card tricks."
The Maestro's eyes narrowed. "Then let's do something about that. Gentlemen."
I managed to kick Kerry in the crotch and break Wentworth’s nose before they pinned my struggling limbs down and hoisted me face-up onto the boardroom table. I lifted my head and saw Polonius approaching slowly, smiling smugly, ready to take me, ready to take my soul.
But the shimmer was gone. No shimmer, no glimmer, no shield… he'd finally let his guard down. It was time to pull the trigger.
"Do it now," I said, staring him down in defiance.
***
Three.
Two.
One.
Dread blinked.
***
Polonius was opening his mouth to say something when there was a pop. It sounded like a large light bulb breaking; it was the sound of a six foot six, three hundred pound mass displacing an equal amount of air as Dread appeared in the room.
The Maestro turned and said "Wha
t?" in time to catch a burst from Dread's F-Shok that tore open his abdomen and shredded his right arm to the shoulder. He staggered and fell, knocking over a chair as he tried to stop himself on the way down.
Dread pivoted on one foot and leveled the shotgun at the three dead men pinning Cass to the table. "Down!"
Cass didn't need to be told twice. As soon as her captors let go of her to reach for weapons, she rolled off the table and fell heavily to the floor.
Thunder roared. Kerry was torn to shreds before he could get off a shot, but Wentworth fired a handful of bright darts of magefire from his fingers before taking a round to the hip.
The darts smashed into Dread's upper chest and left shoulder; the F-shok blew apart under a pair of them. Dread dropped the damaged weapon, somehow keeping his feet despite the grave wounds trailing smoke from his body. He began struggling to draw his pistol as Wentworth tried to muster enough strength to fire again.
Stephen rose up from behind the table and aimed his pistol at Dread. The shots went wild; Cass recovered from her fall and slammed into Stephen in a tackle that threw the dead man into the wall. She chopped the gun out of his hand with a knife hand strike, and followed it up with a quick stomp to the knee that dropped him.
"Dread!" she shouted, dashing for Stephen's pistol, but she was too late. Dread had lost the race.
Another salvo of magefire flashed into the big man, punching holes through his armor and sending him to his knees. Dread managed to stay upright only by hooking on to a chair with his right arm, his left arm dangling uselessly.
Cass screamed and snatched up Stephen's pistol, firing half of the magazine into Wentworth's head, sending him back to the Earth.
"Dread!" she said, moving around the table toward him. He was shot to pieces; bloody, burnt holes trailed smoke all across his torso, left arm, and shoulder. His eyes rolled toward her and he opened his mouth, trying to gesture behind her.
Gunfire from behind Cass punched a pair of holes out of her abdomen; it was more surprising than painful. Then, shock came crashing in a wave, as she stumbled forward and caught herself on the desk, staring down at her own blood and tissue blown across the wood.
What? Where? she wondered, wound shock taking her mind away.
She was mostly numb now, but she knew that would change to pain in a second; severe pain, crippling pain. For now, she turned her head and saw Stephen holding a pistol, the barrel still smoking.
Took it off me when he dragged me away from the ambush, she realized. ‘Where's my sidearm?’ ‘Dunno.’ Yes, you did, Stephen, you stuck it inside your jacket.
Stephen shook his head helplessly. "It didn't have to be this w..."
Bullets tore into him, a half-dozen across his left side. He staggered to his left, firing blindly into the table, and another long burst tore the top of his chest to hamburger. His pistol slipped from nerveless fingers, as a third burst caught him in the throat. Stephen held a hand to his neck briefly, staring at Cass, staring much the same way as he had a week and a day earlier, when a similar wound had killed him the first time around. Then, his already-dead eyes rolled back, and he fell.
"Cass?" Dread mumbled, his sidearm still pointed at the air Stephen had recently occupied. "Cass..."
He fell off his armchair support, collapsing to the floor as Cass's wounds got the better of her. She slid off the edge of the table and to her knees, one hand trying to hold in her insides.
Blood soaked her hand and dripped onto the floor; her limbs were trembling in pain. Her stomach was a lump of white-hot lead, burning straight back through her guts to scorch her spine, and when her knees hit the floor, it felt as if someone had kicked her in her bullet wounds. She almost passed out; consciousness throbbed once into a white flash, but she held it together, shuffling around the table to Dread as best she could on her knees.
I can't do this, she thought. I can't take this, it's too bad, it's too much, it hurts so fucking bad I can't take it just lie down and rest that's what I've got to do is rest...
He needs you, Cass.
Oh, no, no, rest. Can't help Dread, can't, too hurt.
Get up, Cass.
Get up!
"Get up!" she shouted to herself, snapping out of another unfocused stare. "Get over there! Go on, Cass!"
She could see him now, his body lying inert, face down on the floor. Blood leaked from innumerable wounds, pooling slowly around him. Blood was pooling around herself as well… she almost vomited when she saw the smeared blood trail she was leaving. Luckily, she held the wave of nausea off, or she would've passed out for certain.
"Cass."
She blinked hard. Dread wasn't talking; in fact, it didn't even look like he was breathing.
"Cass."
He was alive. Lying in a puddle of gore, one arm shot down to a torn-up stump, barely able to move his lips, was Maestro Polonius.
I can't shoot him, Cass thought. The gun's recoil, it'll hurt too bad, it hurts bad now, I can't.
"Cass."
He was getting stronger, slowly. Color was returning to his face, he started to speak more clearly, and his body started to shift around a bit.
He's healing himself, Cass realized. He can't do much, because he's so bad, but soon, as he gets stronger...
Shoot him!
I can't, it hurts...
"Cass." It was a full-fledged whisper now, getting steadily stronger. "Cass, I can save you. I can save him. I can heal you both, heal us all, if you just... join with me. Join with me, Cass, it's the only way, it's not too late..."
Will moved her arm. Hate moved her arm. Pure, stupid stubbornness raised her arm, and put her pistol's sights on Polonius's forehead.
The Maestro began to plead. "Cass, don't do this, you can still save yourself, save Dread, it's not too late..."
Blood flecked out of her lips. "It is for you, fucker."
She passed out almost instantly after firing.
Cass
My eyes fluttered briefly a few times as I woke and the world came back to me. I was lying in a hospital bed, a tube leading from my arm to a clear plastic IV bag. My whole body ached. It felt like I’d taken the beating of a lifetime. Which, I pretty much had.
Edison was there, a stupid smile on his face, like he actually thought he was the first person I’d want to see. "Welcome back, Cass."
I couldn’t help frowning at him. "How bad am I?”
Edison seemed about to answer me, but I amended my question. "Is Dread okay? What about the others?"
"Peter and Mike were killed in the ambush," Edison said. "Nothing could be done for them. Tara... she'll recover, in time. Shifty is okay."
"Dread?"
Edison shrugged toward the wall. "Next room over."
Thank God, I thought. Thank God for that.
Something on Edison's face bothered me. "What is it?"
He fidgeted. "Cass, your injuries were pretty extensive..."
"I've got residual damage, something the Healers couldn't fix.”
I supposed that wasn't such a shock, considering how I’d been shot to pieces and there had probably been some lag time before whatever second-rate Healers they could scrounge up could actually get to us. So, I might have to make some dietary changes, or maybe...
"It's not that."
I waited, and when Edison didn't continue, I snapped, "Well, Christ, Edison, what the f-f-f..."
My tongue seemed to catch, stutter, as if it had forgotten how to form words. My facial muscles twitched briefly, and the catch disappeared.
I stayed perfectly still. This couldn’t be happening.
"Cass..." Edison began.
"Oh my God," I whispered. "You didn't."
"Cass, we had no choice, the facilities were right here, you weren't down very long..."
My hands scrambled at the sheets, tearing at them, searching through them, until I found what I was looking for. It wasn't a hospital bed I was laying in.
Stenciled on the sheets were the words REVIVAL TECHNOLOGY, I
NC.
I tried to kill Edison, but I guess coming back from the dead takes the fight right out of you. That flabby shit managed to scramble out of the room, shouting in through the little window mounted in the center of the door something about how he had to bring me back, that I was too valuable to lose, how I was only dead for a little while before they managed to Vive me.
"Was I down longer than Stephen? Hunh?" I shouted.
Edison's face was blank. "Reviving Stephen was a mistake, I admit..."
"They're all mistakes, you stupid prick! How do you not know that by now? You should've left me dead!"
Edison couldn't say much to that. "You take a few days. Think about that," he finally said, and left.
There wasn't much to do at that point other than crumple up into a ball and weep.
Sometimes your worst nightmares come true. How many renegade Vive Jobs had I taken down? How many lives had they taken before I got to them?
How long before I went that way?
What sort of psychosis did I have in store for me? I could already feel it, physically; the inside of my skin felt itchy, as if it didn't like the feel of the muscle it covered.
Now I knew why that first Vive had torn her own skin off. Just the idea of it, the idea of my skin, my dead skin, rotten underneath and chafing the rest of my no-longer-dead body, made me want to claw at myself, tear at myself like an animal who won't let a scab heal. How long until that compulsion became overwhelming?
How had my mind been altered? You don't Vive somebody without mis-crossing a few synapses, that much I did know. Who was I now?
Not Cass Wheeler, that's for sure. Now I was some sort of circus freak zombie, doomed to insanity and self-destruction.
I refused to see any visitors for the next two days, until they released me. A few "doctors" came in, told me I was as good as new, and if I hadn't been in a half-catatonic state, I would've ripped their lungs out.
Good as new. Just like Polonius. Just like Stephen.
Mage Hunters Box Set Page 17
