A pair of boys, somewhere near eighteen, laughed over the din.
“I shouldn’t be fuckin’ alive, dude.” The one with green hair held up the front of his jacket, showing off three distinct bullet holes. “Fuckin’ soldier shot me from behind. Next thing I know I’m awake and alive and I just hauled ass.”
“Deep,” said the black-haired one, inhaling something from a little device.
“Ol’ Arc is twisted pissed. D’you see what he did to that traitor fire bitch?”
“Naah, I was with Amy when it got cray.”
“Yo, Amy don’t even like you.”
Black hair chuckled. “She does when I want her to.”
“Not cool, Raith. Not cool at all.”
Anna made a fist.
“Hey.” Raith raised his hands. “Just fuckin’ around. Amy doesn’t want her girlfriend to know about me. Alonna’s hard-core. She’d melt my brain if she knew a man was ‘tainting’ her lover.”
They laughed.
“So, yeah, this fire bitch shows up all cop like. Super-unbelievably-hot one with the perfect ass?”
“Yeah?” asked Raith.
“You know, the Awakened one ol’ Arc was bitchin’ about.”
“Yeah.”
Green-Hair held his hands up, fingers apart, eyes wide with awe. “So ol’ Arc gives her the voodoo and all of a sudden she’s like his attack dog. She came down there to kill him and she’s throwing fuckin’ fireballs left and right nuking the soldiers, and callin’ him Daddy. She burned a hole right through that British shithead.”
“Yah,” said Raith. “I heard he was a cop. Liss was right.”
Anna gasped, turning away so no one saw the tears forming in her eyes. Aaron, no…
“Dude,” said Raith, sucking on his inhaler again. “Dude.”
“Yo, you seen Melissa?” Green hair spun around, gazing over the cluster of people.
“Why? Bitch is jailbait. Fifteen.”
“You’re a giant penis with legs. I’m not lookin’ to get with her; I haven’t seen her since the attack.”
“Think she went traitor too?” asked Raith. “Liss didn’t run with the rest of us. That Aaron motherfucker was a cop. Redhead psycho bitch tryin’ to kill us, and Mammowhatever disappeared.”
“I doubt it. She’d be the last one to go traitor. She was on to Mr. Telekinesis the whole time. She called it he was a cop. Shot him a couple times. Gotta be either dead or on her way to jail.”
“Yeah.” Raith exhaled a cloud of vapor that made his friend lean back. “Liss been wants for the kill on him for awhile. Bitch was angry as shit.”
Green-hair waved him off. “Don’t use was, man, you dunno if she gone.”
Anna couldn’t get the image of Aaron lying dead on the roof of her former, temporary home out of her mind. The burns she imagined varied from cartoony char to a smoldering hole that hollowed out his entire torso. She gave the crowd a quick once over, hoping to spot Lauren, but could find no sign of her. She fumbled her NetMini out in unsteady hands and tried to call Aaron.
It went to Vidmail after six rings.
She squeaked at hearing his voice, muting it before anyone nearby could recognize him. Her heart pounded in her chest. Terrence pushed his way out of the group and walked up to her.
“Hey, Anna. You seen Archon?” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “We got everyone accounted for here except for thirteen.” Terrence sighed. “We lost nine in the assault, part of our security group. Melissa’s MIA. Izzy went astral to scope the place out, but didn’t find her body. We’re also missing Lucy, Meredith, and Kim.”
Anna leaned to the side, peering at a willowy blonde seated in the middle of their group. The girl looked in her teens, but clutched a white rag doll the size of a ten-year-old to her chest, rocking back and forth and muttering with the cadence of a nursery rhyme. Pink lights on her cat-headed sneakers blinked in time with her motion. The doll’s head, a round pad the size of a dinner plate with yarn for hair, flopped back and forth.
Izzy?
The girl looked up and gazed in a circle before realizing Anna as the source of the voice in her mind. You didn’t kill Althea. I know.
Thank you, Izzy. You looked at the roof?
Isabelle burst into tears. No one reacted to her spontaneous outburst, as though she had them often. Yes. Many ghosts, and an angel.
Anna squeezed her fists, forcing herself to send her next thought. Was Aaron there?
Yes, Ma’am. Izzy clutched her doll, hiding her face against it. The angel was with him.
Anna covered her mouth with her hands. All care for what happened around her faded. Talis glanced her way, no doubt sensing a strong surge of sorrow. The tall woman’s already radiant aura of authority seemed to grow stronger. Her eyes narrowed, and she started to walk over.
He wasn’t dead. Izzy looked up from her doll, having gone from weeping to giggling so fast her cheeks remained wet. The angel helped him.
“Anna?” asked Terry. “What’re we supposed to be doing? We haven’t heard a thing from Archon since we got here.”
“What’s wrong, Anna?” Talis made no attempt to layer false concern over her eagerness.
That bitch is everything Archon wanted…
She backed away from Talis’s approach, faked a glance at her blank NetMini, and patted Terry on the arm. “Something’s come up with James. I need to go.”
Anna broke away and sprinted down the main concourse, headed for the doors.
58
Honor
Mamoru
Only the creak of ancient metal disturbed the silence in the hangar, whenever the wind battered the walls. Mamoru removed his coat, folded it, and set it on a dry patch of floor. He detached the sheath from his belt and laid the katana on the ground sideways in front of his boots. Head forward, he drew a deep breath and clapped.
Spirits of Honor, know my shame. I bare myself to you.
He knelt, sat back on his heels, and set his NetMini on the floor between him and the sword. Palms on his knees, he stared at the gleaming onyx slab in silence. He clapped again and bowed.
Hachiman, spirit of war, patron of Samurai, hear me.
Mamoru touched a fingertip to the NetMini. A tiny wisp of white energy caressed the back of his hand as he called upon his power. The device responded to his desire, projecting holograms. The faces of Sadako, his mother, his father, and Nami flickered to life in a line, each about the size of an orange. After a moment of staring at the people he had betrayed, he touched the device again, adding Caiden’s image to the display. Next to the others, the child’s paper white skin seemed glaringly out of place.
On Mars, he had not seemed so unusual. He thought back to Caiden’s request to accompany him to Earth, and his protest. In Japan, he would have been mistaken for a taikomochi in white face paint—or an oni. The boy’s constant smile had unsettled him. In the few weeks they’d spent on Mars waiting for Raziel’s agent to recover Caiden’s mother from a prison camp, he never managed to get a picture of him without that look in his eye—awe, and the want of a father figure Mamoru couldn’t provide. He had gone to Mars to reclaim his honor, and failed.
The boy is safer for being away from me. He who strikes deals with Akuryō. He who values one life over millions.
Mamoru meditated on the time he had spent with Sadako. The hope she had for a life free from being owned, free from having to kill. The life he had denied her. He closed his eyes, remembering her desperate attempts to talk him out of stealing the CSS Angel.
“There is no way she could have known the end of things.” Mamoru exhaled. “I cannot say she was wrong.”
He gazed upon the faces of his mother and father. Mother’s distance had come from the fear she would have to give him away. For so long he had taken it as indifference, even contempt. He wondered if he had been their true son. The woman could not bear to show her love, lest her heart be shattered.
Mamoru bowed at her image.
His father’s holog
ram frowned. No, not a frown—his face always held that set. A disapproving glare he gave everyone who failed to live up to his expectations. Since no one ever lived up to his expectations, it had become his face. Had Mamoru listened to him and trained his body instead of seeking the escape of video games and electronics, he might have protected his innocent sister. He stared at his hands, calling the energy to the surface of his skin.
“Such power I hold now. Surely even as a boy I could have protected her, had I bothered to try.”
He bowed at his father.
Minutes passed before he found the strength to force himself to gaze upon the face of his former slave, Nami. Perhaps it would be better for him never to know if she cared for him, or if she only pretended in hopes of better treatment. The woman had been born to a noble family, cast down to the lowest echelon of society for the deeds of her father.
“The disgrace of a family is shared by all.”
He bowed at Nami.
“I shall not allow Sadako to suffer for my transgression.”
Mamoru leaned forward, clasping the katana by handle and scabbard. He pulled three inches of blade loose and pressed his thumb to the edge. On the floor to his right, he smeared blood into neat vertical rows of kanji:
I am Saitō Mamoru.
I was a Samurai in the house of Minamoto.
I was Ronin.
I am nothing.
I allowed the Oni to exploit my weakness.
I brought fire and death from the heavens.
I atone in eternity for my crimes in this world.
Warm blood ran down his forearm as he reached up and pulled his shirt apart. He drew his arms inward from the sleeves and extended his hands out the gap in front, forcing his shirt down around his waist in time with a low, ritualistic grunt. Mamoru stared at the flickering faces as he wound his hair up into a knot to expose the back of his neck. He did not have a second to render the merciful strike, nor did he deserve one.
He rested his palms on his knees and glanced once more at each person. The shame he felt under the weight of their holographic stares made him resolute.
Mamoru grasped his katana with a bloodied hand, drawing the blade clear of the scabbard. He held it horizontally, raised it with reverence, and brought it down so the edge touched his belly. Lacking a wakizashi, or even a knife, it would have to do.
Silence lingered, as heavy as his guilt. He closed his eyes and tensed his muscles. He would pull the sword tight to his flesh and draw it out to the right. An agonizing death would purify his honor.
His last thoughts would be of his sister, and of the woman who might have loved him.
Mamoru’s fingers clenched on the handle. He took his final breath, held it, and yanked, but the blade remained rigid, frozen in place. Again, he pulled, but it didn’t move. It floated away, dragging him for several inches until he released the tension in his arms. A hairline trickle of blood remained on his stomach from where the edge had pressed.
“Mamoru, I require a moment of your time,” said Archon, voice echoing across the massive hangar.
His eyes snapped open as he found himself fighting to retain ownership of his weapon against a telekinetic grip. He held on to the retreating katana, which dragged him to his feet before the energy released.
“Why are you here?” Mamoru lowered his arms, glancing to the side.
Archon stood a few steps inside the door. Anna looked up from behind him, smiling the smile of a woman who wanted to see someone suffer. Malice flashed across her emerald eyes.
“We need the ship,” said Archon.
Mamoru looked at the blood-smeared kanji at his feet. “It is already coming.”
59
Reinstated
Aaron
Exhaustion blurred the world around Aaron as he made his way out of the Division 0 detention area and trudged toward the cafeteria. Immaculate white hallways blended one to the next. A mixture of looks ranging from unfamiliarity to welcome to open hostility adorned the faces of everyone he passed. He hurried through a cluster of briefing rooms and lockers, heading for the cafeteria.
When he arrived at the mess hall, he stopped at a huge food assembler and punched up the largest coffee the machine could generate. Once it beeped to indicate it had finished, he grabbed the cup, which turned out to be too hot to carry. The steaming beverage floated alongside him as he dragged himself to an open table and fell into the bench seat. Everyone in the room stared at him, not one daring to make a sound.
“Alright, let’s see if this stuff they’re so fond of over ‘ere does anything.” He took a cautious sip, coughed, forced a gulp, and cringed. “Ugh.”
He sat for a while, staring at the featureless white table. Every so often, he’d choke down another swig before returning the weight of his cheek to his hand. Sleep teased at his mind. Fingers slid into his hair as his elbow slipped. Aaron caught himself before his palm flew from his temple and his face bounced off the table.
“Uhh, Lieutenant?” asked a high-pitched voice.
“Hmm?” He felt hung over, peering between his fingers at a boy too young to shave. The sight of such a small body in Division 0 blacks made him chuckle.
“Cadet Gutierrez, sir.” The boy rendered a sharp salute and set a plain, black device on the table. “I have your new NetMini. Sorry, I couldn’t save your old one.”
“How bad was it?”
The boy stood stiff, hands at his sides. “Umm, it was a blob of melted plastic. The neural memory fluid boiled off. The substrate died. I couldn’t recover anything. I’m a technokinetic, not a necromancer.”
“Cripes.” He sighed, glanced at the boy, and waved. “At ease or whatever I’m supposed to say. Bloody hell, this officer thing is going to be a ballache.”
Cadet Gutierrez’s eyes widened. He laughed for a second before looking afraid.
“Thanks, kid.” Aaron smiled. “Stop trying to grow up too fast.”
The boy grinned and took a step back. He moved to walk away, but whipped back around with a curious expression.
“Go ahead, ask.” Aaron held up the empty cup. “But it’ll cost you fetching me another cup.”
“Umm. It’s true you didn’t mean to do it, right? People are talking.” He scratched the side of his head. “The empaths say you’re okay, but some of the others think you’re nuts.”
“Coffee first.” Aaron smiled.
The boy hurried a salute, nodded, and darted off. Minutes later, he handed Aaron a replacement extra-large, black coffee and hopped up on the bench seat across from him, swinging his boots.
“A very bad person put something in my head.” Aaron tapped his temple. “She made me do something horrible. I fought as hard as I could not to do it.”
Cadet Gutierrez gave him a sympathetic look. “Suggestives scare me too.”
“My brain broke a little. It’s like the bean’s got a mind of its own now, and it doesn’t like to be poked.”
The boy thought about it for a moment. “You shouldn’t let anyone poke it.”
“Aye.” Aaron slurped coffee and winced. “That’s the tricky part.”
“Aaron?” asked a woman.
Kate walked up to the end of the table. She’d changed into a standard Division 0 uniform.
“Hi again,” said Cadet Gutierrez.
“Guess they cleared you,” said Aaron.
“Considering the cuffs are on my belt instead of my arms, yeah.”
The boy gasped. “What did you do?”
“She went in alone,” said Aaron.
“You can get in trouble for that?” asked Gutierrez.
“Yeah…” Kate flopped into the seat to the boy’s right. “I didn’t even intend to go in. I wanted to wait for backup, but he got into the car somehow. How’s the coffee?”
Aaron grimaced, shaking his head. “I’ve not the foggiest idea how you people can drink this horribleness. Tastes dreadful, but it’s working.”
“Well,” said Kate, “they have this magical potion calle
d creamer, as well as this enchanted powder that makes things sweet.”
“Right…” Aaron picked at his eye with his middle finger, though smiled.
“I should go.” Cadet Gutierrez stood, saluted, and ran out.
“How’s your head?” Aaron forced another swallow.
Kate leaned on her elbows. “Spinning. Archon knew I wanted a family more than anything. I hate being a lab freak.” She stared down at her hands. “El Tío used me the same way.”
“How’s your boy doing?” Aaron peered over his cup at her as he sipped more of the detestable swill.
“He went to check on Althea. I wanted to ask you how you deal with it.”
“With what?” Aaron glanced at the cup, steeled himself, and drained it.
“Being forced to kill people. How do you come to terms with that?”
Aaron sighed. “I only remember Allison. She was the only person I was forced to kill. The others happened in a blackout. I’ve no actual memory of it at all. It just explodes and leaves me smashed. I’m sure they’ll be keeping me in a box when this is over with. It’s too dangerous to let me out there. Someone tries to give me a command and…” He made an explosive sound while flicking the fingers of his right hand open.
Kate pushed his NetMini around the table in a circle, fidgeting. “Maybe Althea could fix it. I had a bit of a nasty side effect too.”
Beep.
Aaron leaned over to peer at the NetMini.
A text message from Anna: ‹Are you alive?›
He pursed his lips. ‹I think so. I’ve no idea how these blokes can drink coffee.›
Two dozen emote faces, alternating grins and tears spammed his screen. A second later, another text appeared. ‹West City will be destroyed < 12 hours. Help! Meet me here.›
A cartoon pushpin wobbled around beneath the message.
“Shit.” Aaron jumped up. “I hope she’s being dramatic.”
“Who?”
“Anna.” Aaron ran for the door.
Angel Descended (The Awakened Book 6) Page 51
