Angel Descended (The Awakened Book 6)

by Matthew S. Cox

  Whimpering emanated from the back of the container, the cavernous metal lent an eerie echoing quality to the sound. Anna took a step closer. One of the Syndicate men leaned forward as if to block her, but thought better of it and stayed out of her way.

  “What?” She scowled at him. “It’s not like I’m going to stuff them in my pockets and bugger off.” After brushing past him, she grasped the frame. “Hey, come on out. It’s okay.”

  The short man whispered, “They don’t know English.”

  Dingy cloth, no doubt used as bedding on the long trip, shifted. Two faces of dark brown, a boy and a girl of about ten, obviously siblings, peered out at her. Anna covered her mouth, gasping as two barefoot, forlorn children struggled to emerge from their nest. Long, black hair hung down to their thighs. Their clothes seemed little more than rags ready to disintegrate at any moment, a plain white t-shirt and jeans on the boy, a moth-eaten peach dress on the girl. Both both had bright orange handcuffs on their wrists as well as ankles, the restraints around their wrists kept snug to their bodies by a length of chain around their waists. The girl made eye contact, her frightened expression easing back to one of hope. Her brother kept his gaze down. Together, they shuffed along, barely able to move, secured like violent serial killers in miniature. They tried and failed to hold hands, chains clicking as they shuffled in tiny steps toward her. That anyone even manufactured cuffs so small broke Anna’s heart.

  “What the devil are you people doing?” Anna yelled. The augmented thug closest to her experienced a convulsion. “Is that necessary? They’re children!”

  Ulrich held his hands up. “It is not our doing. That’s how they were when we acquired custody of them. Mexican police do not take risks with psionics. You should be glad our people down there got to them before they were shot.”

  “You’ve had them for five weeks and you left them like that?” shouted Anna. The overhead light flickered, causing all the refugees to cower. “What sort of animals are you people?”

  “That isn’t our concern.” Ulrich popped a breath mint into his mouth. “We were paid to bring them to you alive. This isn’t first class, you know. Besides, they seemed keen on running away. Think of it as extra packing material… so they didn’t get damaged in transit.”

  The siblings halted two feet away from her, shivering and out of breath from the effort it took to get there. The girl whispered in Spanish to her brother. Anna caught enough to understand the girl had felt her surge of anger and had become frightened, worried that they’d done something wrong. The boy shrugged and mumbled back. He stared up at Anna, a trace of curiosity in his eyes. Since the girl had reacted to her emotional state, Anna assumed her a telempath and tried to project concern.

  Up close, the marks of healing bruises showed on both of the round faces staring up at her. Anna kept her expression stoic, but at her upwelling of pity, the girl’s hopeful smile returned.

  Twisting her wrists in the rigid binders, the little girl whispered, “Yo también los odio. Duelen.”

  Anna crouched and touched the bruises on the girl’s face before shooting Ulrich a dark stare. “Your people didn’t do this, did they?”

  “La policía do not have the psionic inhibitors.” The short man gestured as if striking the boy with the butt end of a rifle. “So they hit them if they think they’re trying to make eye contact.”

  Anna hissed. She grasped the cuff around the boy’s wrist. A glint flashed across the words ‘Gestión Ciudadana Tijuana’ stamped in the orange-painted plastisteel. Chafing and bruising reddened his skin where the metal touched it. At the sight of dried blood on the children’s wrists, a spike of anger radiated from her, sending a spark into the ground.

  The cybernetic arm of one of Ulrich’s men flapped in a spasm in time with a faltering lamp overhead, forcing him to grab it with his other hand.

  “It’s alright. I’m going to take those things off you. Sorry if it zaps a bit.”

  The short man translated and the boy relaxed. His sister stared at Anna with adoration.

  A hand grabbed Anna’s shoulder, pulling her upright before she could concentrate on the electronics inside the restraint. The man who had met her at the gate nodded sideways at the blond man.

  Ulrich cleared his throat. “Do you have our payment?”

  A sound like a rifle shot echoed over the wharf as an inch-thick spark connected Anna’s shoulder to the chest of the man who’d grabbed her. He sailed off his feet, sliding to a halt fifteen feet away, twitching and moaning. Tiny sparks snapped from his limbs to the metal ground.

  All four Russian boys dove flat on their chests. The siblings tried to backpedal, but the handcuffs around their ankles tripped them up and they fell seated.

  “The next one of you cretins to touch me won’t be getting back up. Am I clear?” Anna threw the credstick to Ulrich with a contemptuous snarl. “I can’t believe you people. You’re not transporting cases of synthbeer. These are people.”

  The Viking-in-a-suit raised a hand, stalling the other two from drawing their weapons.

  Anna pulled out her NetMini. “Translate, Spanish.” She took a knee by the shivering children. “I’m going to get those things off you, please hold still.”

  Her words repeated from the device. Both kids still appeared terrified but nodded. The girl struggled, trying to brush hair from her face, but couldn’t raise her hands from her waist. Anna looked away before her anger could burn out the electronic locks.

  “Yo también los odio. Duelen,” said the girl again. Anna’s NetMini said “I hate them too. They hurt.”

  Typical for ACC hardware, the electronics in the restraints were cheap. Anna had little trouble bypassing the logic module that processed the code entry and feeding current right to the little motors that opened the cuffs and released the chain around the kids’ waists. The boy rubbed his nose hard, like he’d been needing to do it for a long time. As soon as Anna freed her, the girl leapt into a hug and squeezed the breath from her lungs.

  “¿Es usted mi mamá ahora?”

  “Uhh…” Anna patted the girl on the back. “I wouldn’t make a very nice mum, but I’ll protect you.”

  The girl grinned at her. Soft brown eyes filled with hope stared up at her, squeezing her heart in the iron grip of guilt. The boy clung on her other side. She held them awkwardly for a little while until Ulrich broke the silence with a harsh clearing of his throat. Both kids jumped away. They continued beaming up at her, which didn’t make her guilt any less unwieldy. Red marks from the binders on their skin sent a second ripple of anger down her arms, pushing sparks around her coat.

  “Two from Ukraine,” said Ulrich, gesturing at the four women. “One from Moscow, one Dresden.” He waved at the men, then the boys. “Two from Iraq. Four from Russian farm country. Those boys should be a great asset to your cause. They grew up in the resistance, basically soldiers already. They know how to shoot.” He motioned at the British girls. “Those two came from your friends in the CSB. Detained within days of each other, from the same school even.”

  Taken from their parents…

  The schoolgirls shivered. Anna’s mind ran away with visions of the CSB giving them the same treatment she got. Anger boiled inside her at knowing Archon had already killed Agent Gordon; she wanted to do it again. The little monster in her head roared and an overhead light exploded, sending trails of burning shrapnel in all directions. Refugees screamed. Once again, the four Russian boys dove to the ground. The twelve-year-old glared at her as if he wanted to hit her for scaring him twice.

  “These two,” said Ulrich, gesturing at the siblings. “Not a lot of information. The Citizen Management people in Mexico hate being in Mexico, so they’re even less motivated than normal. Records are spotty down there, but it looks like they were street urchins. Probably got caught using their powers to take advantage of people until they got reported.”

  The boy looked up at her with watery brown eyes and muttered. His voice repeated itself out of her NetMini
, in English.

  “I understand small English. We were poor. Papa gave us to the police for the reward money when he saw us do magic. They were mean to us. Kept those things on us the whole time. Hit us if we looked at them. We had to stare at the floor.”

  His sister spoke a touch above a whisper, her voice timid. English followed from the NetMini a second delayed. “A man came to the jail. He shot the police and took us to put in that box.”

  Anna jammed the NetMini into her shielded handbag as fast as she could to protect it from her barely contained rage. She had the distinct urge to make someone scream, and fast lost the ability to care who absorbed the brunt of her wrath.

  “A pleasure doing business with you,” said Ulrich.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t fill the container,” Anna muttered.

  Ulrich bowed. “We do not deal with such things in the UCF. Strictly off-world. Too many complications here. Your laws seem to favor media ratings. ‘Rescuing’ prostitutes makes for great video.”

  Anna scowled. “They’re not my laws, and they’re not called prostitutes when you sell them. Prostitues get paid.”

  The smoking man moaned and flailed his arms, trying to stand.

  His associates closed the container while a third man climbed into the crane.

  Anna took the brother and sister by the hand and approached the rest of the people in the line.

  “Did you buy us?” asked one of the British girls, sniffling. “What’s to become of us?”

  “No, we did not.” She looked at them each in turn, weathering a barrage of telepathic pokes. NetMini held aloft, she spoke in a slow and even tone. “This country is more tolerant of psionics than where you are from. Detestable as they are, these men have a lot of practice at transporting people out of sight of the authorities. Archon does not plan to keep any of you against your will. You are all free to go wherever you choose; however, we would like you to join us. We can offer you a safe place to stay, food, and the company of others like us. Archon will take us somewhere we do not have to hide what we are. Where we can be free of the prejudices of the unenlightened, and embrace our gifts.”

  The handheld device repeated her words in Arabic, Spanish, Russian, and German.

  Everyone looked at her, but no one spoke.

  “Come on then.” She motioned at the van.

  Four rows of seats made for a tight fit, and the air conditioning had no chance of purging the stink of fourteen people in dire need of new clothes and showers. The Iraqi men chattered incessantly while sporting huge grins, pointing around at everything and everyone as if seeing Earth for the first time. The Russian boys took the furthest rear bench, scanning the area as if expecting an attack at any second. Anna settled into the passenger seat, glaring out at the Syndicate men putting the cargo box back on the ship it came from. What is wrong with people? How can anyone be so cruel?

  Perhaps Archon had a point. This world offered no solace for psionics.

  Anna crept down a dark hallway past a large industrial bathroom where tattered plastic sheets floated like phantoms in a faint breeze. The taste of rusty metal and unknown chemicals settled on her tongue with each breath and a tingle of unease ran down her spine, an eerie feeling that supposedly meant something else was in the area with her. Of course, it could only be the presence of the abandoned power station around her. Such places seemed to have a dark energy all their own. She found the quiet as unsettling as it was oppressive and wondered how many real ghosts watched her.

  I wish Aurora never told me that feeling meant ghosts.

  Sometimes she found it impossible to differentiate a psionic sense of otherworldly energy from simple nervousness at being alone in a decaying industrial building. Maybe this time, the eerie tingle grasping at the back of her neck came from a mundane case of nerves.

  Anna paused at a mangled metal door, half torn from its hinges. Althea’s memory stared back at her from inside with the not-at-all-scary rage of a little girl who didn’t get her way. At the time, she’d found the child petulant and annoying. Someone with so much ability to help them, but all she wanted to do was go home. Like a child, she couldn’t see all the good she could do for so many people and demanded her own want.

  Of course, they had kidnapped her.

  The office-turned-bedroom remained—aside from the ruined door—exactly as they’d left it. Anna hadn’t been back since she scraped Archon off the grating of Cooling Tower One and got him into the hovercar only minutes before dozens of Division 0 patrol craft swarmed the place. How exactly did they find us? Were we infiltrated?

  She sat on the bed, jostling a pile of datapads and several stuffed animals. A blue, cartoon bunny glimmered into view.

  “H is for happy. Can you say happy?”

  “Sod off.”

  “You’re getting closer. Good try! Try again.” The rabbit flashed a big grin. “H is for happy can you—”

  Anna touched the screen by the power icon and the ten-inch creature vanished. She stacked the six datapads on the Comforgel slab and traced her fingers over the topmost one. For no reason she could think of, the datapads made her sad, as if the gift she had brought the child had been unwanted.

  “So much for educating the savage.”

  Some part of her had looked forward to spending time with the girl, helping her go through the lessons on these pads. Maybe she sought some sort of absolution for leaving Faye behind in the UK by offering a wing for Althea to hide under. Why did it bother her so much the girl wanted nothing to do with her? Aurora thought she had projected Faye’s resentment for her leaving England onto Althea. Bah. Faye has parents; she didn’t need me.

  “Why did I even bother coming here?” She gazed up at the scorched vent cover, feeling a new wave of guilt. How had she gone from helping one young girl escape a secret government prison only to turn around and abduct a different one? “Maybe she was right.”

  Anna gathered the datapads under one arm, and the stuffed animals under the other. No sense letting them rot here.

  A block of sweet coated in a bit of sour. Aaron’s voice whispered in her thoughts. She hadn’t wanted to kill the techs in the Timmons-Orben building. Archon had seemed indifferent to it, mostly bothered by the inconvenience of it taking longer to steal the data in a way that didn’t require killing people. How could he be so cold to the world at large, but so charming to her?

  She squeezed the damp stuffed animals, wondering if her offering had made Althea any happier here. Perhaps if she’d had the nerve to give them to her rather than sneak them in while the girl slept, she would have received them better. She frowned at the floor, grumbling to herself internally about all the sappiness and wasted time. Despite that, she collected the toys and took them.

  I’d better get out of here before I’m noticed.

  Anna trudged back out the way she’d entered, pausing at the doorway of the former command room with its large, silver table. A twinge of old pain stabbed her in the hand. The bloodstained chopstick still sat on the floor, molded over from a puddle of rainwater. James had used it to prove his point. He’d been so blasé about it, as though ramming a wooden rod through her hand had been no more severe than asking her to demonstrate knitting.

  Rats scurried from the alcove behind James’ chair, where the computers had been. How they’d ever gotten everything out of here before the authorities carted it off would likely remain a mystery. Then again, perhaps they didn’t. He had influence everywhere, it seemed. Maybe the police had been the ones to do the moving for them.

  She felt foolish, carrying the datapads and stuffed animals from the bowels of a ruined nuclear power plant. The combined value of her armload was under three hundred credits. Why had she risked detection to retrieve things so easily replaced?

  I suppose I missed this place. Five years was a long time to live in the same digs, even if it was a shithole.

  Following a long shower, Anna donned a knee-length violet sleep shirt and flopped on the floor at the foot of the
king-sized Comforgel pad. As alien as the black zone corporate campus felt, it was an order of magnitude more posh than the power station. She clutched a stuffed green dinosaur with a stubby yellow horn to her chest while staring at her NetMini on the carpet at her left. It had been a few years since she’d spoken to Faye and at least six months since she’d tried to call Penny. The last time she’d seen her best friend on the Vid, it felt like looking at a complete stranger. Penny seemed to remember her, but the conversation rambled as if she spoke to someone she’d gone to school with twenty years ago and hadn’t seen since, not someone who’d spent many harrowing years on the streets at her side.

  Of course, what did Penny care now? She had a cushy job with the university. She’d moved out of Coventry tower to a proper apartment in the heart of London, and even Spawny seemed to have scrubbed up.

  Staring at the NetMini wouldn’t make it call anyone.

  At the sense of not being alone, Anna cringed to the side, using her body to conceal the stuffed hybrid dinosaur/unicorn.

  “Oi, sorry. Catch ya flickin’ the bean?”

  Aurora.

  Anna went florid crimson. She wasn’t sure what would be more embarrassing, getting caught touching herself or hugging a stuffed animal.

  “Oh, just a plush.” Aurora laughed. “The way you flinched, I thought you were four fingers in.”

  “Must you?” Anna snapped. She slammed the toy to the floor and crossed her arms.

  “Oh, are you having a slumber party?” Aurora padded over, standing toe to toe. “We could paint each others’s nails!”

  “Stop.”

  “No, really.” Aurora crouched, reaching for Anna’s foot. “You’ve got none on.”

  Anna glared at the wall. Aurora’s attempt at cheering her up only reminded her of a life she’d never had. “What do you want?”

  “Testy. Well, I’d be that way too if I rooted for Manchester.”

  “Hmm.” Anna picked her eye with her middle finger. “What’s the occasion? I’ve seen you twice in three days and both times you have clothes on.”