by S A McClure
Amber fired once, twice, three times. Her arms shook as the darts shot through the room, leaving a trail of orange mist in their wake. Each one missed their mark by mere millimeters. Cursing, she ducked low to avoid being struck by the deadweight of the fallen mercenary as the shade tossed him across the hallway.
The man wearing the power suit released a bolt of plasma at the shade. The metal walkway heated red before melting where the discharge hit. He, too, had missed the bio-cybernetic weapon.
More men were ripped away from the small band of mercenaries hunting the shade. Screams and blurs of light left Amber feeling disoriented as she released another spray of darts. Although they struck the beast, they glanced off the armored plates covering its back and shoulders. She took in a steadying breath as she reloaded the now empty cartridge.
The shade lunged for the man wearing the power-armor suit just as it released another bolt. The plasma struck the shade in its left shoulder. The scent of charred flesh and molten metal filled the air. The shade screeched as it landed atop the mercenary and began ripping at its armored breastplate.
Metal crunched beneath a powerful strike to the suit’s neck brace. Wires sparked as they were severed. The shade wrapped its maw around them and jerked, cleaving the suit’s helmet from the rest of the suit.
Her stomach tightened as the smell of fresh blood washed over her. A silent scream erupted from her as the mercenary’s head dropped from the helmet and rolled across the floor towards her. She stared into the man’s unblinking eyes. She hadn’t known his name. She shoved the guilt away and refocused on the fight. If she was going to survive, that’s what she needed to do.
Amber exhaled as she fired at the shade. Two of her darts struck the beast right where the plasma blast had. It reared back, and she saw its face for the first time.
Angry, dark eyes stared back at her. Blood dripped from its lips. Although it was humanoid, its teeth were elongated, as if human DNA had been melded with other, more predatory animals. It snarled at her. Pointing the pistol straight at its eye, Amber pulled the trigger. Her arms tingled as she imagined the dart striking one of those eyes and ending the fight.
The shade whipped its head to the side, the dart grazing its ear as it exploded into the wall. She took a step backwards as she ejected the empty cartridge to the ground and pulled a new one from her belt. It howled as it bounded towards her. Her darts grazed the beast’s body as it lithely darted from side-to-side to avoid being shot.
Even with her stabilizers whirring beneath her skin, it wasn’t enough. She wasn’t skilled enough or strong enough to keep up with the shade. Her hands clammy, she reloaded again.
Raising her left arm, she engaged the ballistic shield.
Metal panels fanned out from the brace, forming a barrier large enough to cover her entire body. She held it before her like the lifeline it was as the shade slammed into her. She fell backwards, her head slamming into the ground. Bright light filled her eyes, and she blinked rapidly. The shield vibrated as the nanobots absorbed the force of the shade’s strikes. Its weight was crushing, and she realized the only thing preventing her from being completely smashed was the edges of the shield resting on the remnants of the power armor. They provided enough space between the floor and the shield for her body.
A grim smiled passed over her lips. At least her powers were able to protect her from some things.
“Shit,” she hissed as a dent began to form in the shield. Her mind was hazy, and she had difficulty breathing. Even with her abilities, she had no idea how she was going to get out of this situation.
With her arm strapped to the shield, there was nowhere for her to go. She closed her eyes, willing her luck to catch up to her circumstances. Heat coursed up and down her arms, as if every nerve in her body were being electrified. The dent deepened as the shade continued to strike the interlocking panels.
She knew the shield would break soon. Once it shattered, there would be nothing to protect her against the shade’s attack.
Nothing except her pulser pistol.
Wriggling her shoulders, she carefully pried her right arm from beneath the shield. Thankfully, the pistol hadn’t been knocked from her grasp when she fell. Without her right arm adding an additional brace to the shade’s weight, the shield applied more pressure to her chest. She coughed as the air was squeezed out of her.
The shade punched the dented metal one more time, and a deep fissure appeared. Cracks rippled across the interlocking panels. They widened as the beast pressed down. The chunks of metal helping prop the shield up groaned beneath the shade’s full weight. Metal dust fell into her mouth, and she coughed again.
A loud pop jolted her as one of the shade’s claws punctured through the shield’s layers. It scraped her abdomen, drawing blood, before receding.
Bursts of light hurt her eyes as plasma bolts and darts exploded against the shade’s scaly body.
Lightheaded and wheezing, she angled the pistol towards the hole. She breathed in. Her hand angled slightly as her stabilizers whirred beneath her skin. She focused on the darts passing through the hole unhindered.
Exhaling, she squeezed the trigger and emptied all twenty-five darts. Bursts of orange flame reflected on metal as the darts passed seamlessly through the hole. They exploded in a fiery orange light. The kaboom that followed rattled her skull. The stabilizers died down, her power completely spent. The beast’s weight slipped from her broken shield, and she sucked in a deep breath.
Her eyes fluttered shut as the copper and oil sent of the shade’s blood trickled in through the hole. Tears leaked from her eyes as its howl sent a shiver down her body. Silence followed as she drifted into the shadows of unconsciousness.
“Get her out of here,” a voice growled from above her.
Amber cracked her eyes open, and she groaned. Her body ached from head to toe, and she felt as if her bones had been turned to jelly. Distorted memories of the fight flipped through her mind. The rapid stream of images and color made acid burn the back of her throat. She gagged.
Rough hands slipped beneath her neck and legs and lifted her into the air. Her vision blurry, she couldn’t see who cradled her against their chest. At that precise moment, she didn’t care.
She was alive.
She was sure she’d broken some bones, and her breathing came out in heavy wheezes, but she didn’t care. At least she was breathing at all.
They moved quickly down the hallways. More explosions shook the air around them. The concussive blasts pounded in Amber’s head. She snuggled in tighter against the person carrying her, trying to block out the bursts of sound.
“You’re going to be alright, Fortuna,” a deep male voice whispered.
She recognized that voice. It was familiar to her in the way an old song gets caught in one’s mind. It crept along the channel of memory, burrowing into places she didn’t know she still remembered.
“Who are you?” she whispered. Her throat ached, and she knew she had been screaming.
He nuzzled his head on top of hers. “Hush, now. You’re going to be alright.”
She bit back her response to him. Nothing irked her more than when someone refused to answer a direct question. Despite the pain ripping through her body, she squirmed against his grasp.
“Put me down,” she grumbled, when he tightened his grip on her.
“I can’t do that. Not yet, anyway.”
“The stars you can’t!” she screamed. She attempted to slap him, but her arm wouldn’t respond.
He chuckled when he realized what she was trying to do. “I’m not your enemy, and I’m not going to hurt you. Just calm down.”
The words ‘calm down’ sent a shiver of anger through her. He was officially pushing all her annoyance buttons.
Strangely, the hair on the back of her neck didn’t prickle, and her stabilizers didn’t react to her desire to leap from his arms. She scrunched her eyes shut and tried to force her abilities to spring to life.
Nothing hap
pened. No flare of fire. No uncomfortable humming in her arms. No tickling sensation at the base of her neck.
Biting her bottom lip, Amber attempted again. Closing her eyes, she focused all her attention on the center of who she was. Morta had taught her that, in order to produce a stronger effect, she needed to practice seeking out the core of her abilities and leveraging that power at will. She was only somewhat skilled at doing this. Most of the time her ability to manipulate the world around her took on a life of its own.
She clenched her teeth as she searched for the spark of her power. She drowned out all other sound and sensation. The stabilizers began to whir beneath her skin as she pulled the ability from the deepest recesses of her mind. She focused the power on a single thought: escape.
Chapter Eight
Shadows crept along the walls as the man continued to carry Amber. She steadied her breathing and calculated what it would take to get away from this man.
She assessed her injuries. Broken arm, probably in multiple locations. Her fingers were numb. Her ribs ached, and her breathing came in short, shallow bursts. She couldn’t tell if she was just severely bruised or if she had broken something.
“You shouldn’t have accepted this job,” the man murmured.
She shifted slightly in his arms, and her spine blazed in agony. Closing her eyes again, she rested her head on his shoulder for a moment. He hadn’t killed her yet, and there was no reason to think that he would do so now. She could give herself this moment of reprieve.
“I know you think you can survive anything. Stars, maybe you can. But, Fortuna,” he paused for a long second, “your luck can’t protect you from everything.”
Alright, she thought, who the hell does he think he is? Gritting her teeth, she shifted again, hoping to get a better view of his face.
A red scarf was tied around his face, but she could see his eyes. Warm brown eyes.
“J?” she croaked.
He didn’t say anything as he clutched her tighter to his chest and pressed his chin on top of her head. Warmth like hot chocolate on a cold day slowly crept through her and she felt herself relaxing. Her mind muddled through the roughness of his shirt, the tenderness of his grasp on her, and the scent of sandalwood and starflowers lingering on his skin. Emotions jumbled together. Excitement. Distress. Fear. Desire. Her need for sleep triumphed over all the others.
She leaned into his embrace. The ache in her muscles receded. Giddiness flowed through her and she giggled softly when he kissed her brow through the scarf.
“I won’t let anything harm you,” he whispered. “Now sleep.”
Her eyelids grew heavy the longer she leaned her head against his shoulder. Although her body longed to drift into the emptiness of sleep, her mind whirred at his words. An uneasiness settled on her stomach. Something wasn’t right. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, and a small shiver wracked her body.
“What are you doing to me?” she mumbled sleepily.
“Hush, Fortuna,” he said.
He shifted beneath her, and then his lips were on her own. Too weak to fight against him, she remained still. Despite her reservations, warmth poured through her. The giddiness returned as the kiss lingered. Abruptly, he pulled back and let his hair fall across his features. She couldn’t see his expression, only the shadows swarming his face.
Although there was still a part of her that wanted to leap from his grasp and run from him, she remained trapped in his grasp. Euphoria and fear continued to war within her as he stroked his hand down her back. She drifted in and out of sleep.
Simulated bird calls woke her from her slumber. She knew they were simulated because of the regularity of the birdsong and the perfect pitch they obtained. Sometimes, when she was in throes of deepest sleep, she could remember the sound of real birds. Her mother, before her death, loved to leave their apartment window open so they could listen to their songs together. Tears leaked from her eyes as the memory of cool breezes, birdsong, the scent of damp earth and warm vanilla filled her mind.
Wiping the wetness away with the back of her hand, her lips curled into a small smile. Although time cannot heal all wounds, it can lessen the blow. She missed her parents, and there wasn’t a day that passed when she didn’t wonder what life would have been like if even one of them had survived the plague.
But they hadn’t. And she had. And her uncle had taken custody of her. Not even her luck could save her from that.
Absent-mindedly, she trailed her fingers over the scars running like the roots of a great, stubborn tree across her flesh. They were a part of her.
It is the dark times that forge us into who we are meant to be. The words had been her father’s, spoken as he lay covered in sores and coughing blood. Her eyes stung for a moment, threatening tears. She closed them, allowing the dull ache of sorrow to touch her for but a moment before resolving not to cry again.
There was no point. Tears did not solve the problems of the world, no matter how good it feels to release them.
Pale orange and gold light slowly crept along the base of the wall, rising and taking shape. It was uncommon for private homes to feature a simulated sunrise. It wasn’t much, but it was a clue. She was either in one of the resorts grand enough to afford one or an exclusive mansion located in the ritzy neighborhood reserved for elite guests.
Morta owned one of those houses.
She sat up, the muscles in her spasming as she did so. Memories of the hunt slowly fell into place. The shade had attacked her directly, and it was only her luck that allowed her to survive. She didn’t know if the beast still lived.
A light tap on the door drew her attention as Morta stormed into the room.
“Good, you’re awake,” she said as she sank into the chair near Amber’s bed. “I need you to tell me everything that happened down there.”
Amber looked at Morta with wide eyes and sighed. Her employer always had been an impatient woman.
“The shade attacked us. I barely survived. The others?” she trailed off, hoping Morta would fill in the gaps.
“Three survived of the ten,” she responded, waving her hand dismissively. “The shade was destroyed, thank the gods.”
Amber sighed in relief. Although her stomach was still a tangled mass of anxiety and tension, she was thankful that the shade could no longer terrorize innocent people. Her brow furrowed and a dull ache settled into the space between her eyes as she remembered the soldiers’ faces. Only three had survived.
“Do you remember anything else about the shade?” Morta leaned forward and placed her hand beneath Amber’s chin, drawing her gaze to hers.
Coldness swept through Amber at the question. She remembered its weight as it crushed down upon her and the way it clicked as it moved. Her heart began to beat more rapidly in her chest. She breathed in slowly, willing herself to calm down.
“It was powerful, stronger than anything I’ve faced before. And it moved fast. Even with my stabilizers engaged, it avoided many of my shots. It was only when it pinned me beneath my ballistic shield that I was able to shoot it.”
“I see.”
Amber’s breathing came in quick, shallow bursts. Her stomach squirmed. She didn’t understand who would send such a thing into the heart of the “V.” It wasn’t just members of the gambling syndicates who lived and worked here. Tourists were here, too. Innocents. Not that she cared. Not much anyway.
“How long have I been out?” she asked, more to distract herself from the memories threatening to break her down than anything else.
“Two days. We postponed the next meeting with Spade so that you can be in attendance. You meet with them again this afternoon.”
She opened her mouth to object, but Morta raised a hand, silencing her.
“This is not open for negotiation, Amber. We must secure our assets. I do not want this deal to fall through because of rumors of these attacks.”
Amber balled her hands into fists. She didn’t want to meet with Frost, Sparrow, or Guinev
ere again. Besides, she was both physically and emotionally drained. Her abilities would remain in their weakened state until she had time to fully recover from the attack. She wasn’t even sure she could manipulate the odds right now, much less fight against Guinevere.
She turned her face away from Morta and stared at the wall. The scent of starflowers and sandalwood lingered on her hair, sending a shiver through her. Had her rescuer told her his name? She couldn’t remember. Everything about him was hazy, coated in a indistinct film of euphoria.
“Who brought me here?” she demanded, meeting Morta’s gaze. She needed her employer to confirm what her gut was telling her.
“I don’t know.”
She narrowed her eyes at the other woman. “What do you mean you don’t know? How can you not!”
“I found you on one of my couches. You were badly wounded, but had obviously been treated with care. Not even Alex could identify who brought you here.”
Amber closed her eyes. Alex, the computer program Morta had designed specifically to manage her estate, was notorious for capturing every visitor’s information in great detail. Although not officially classified as an AI, he was so lifelike that Amber sometimes forgot that he was just a program.
At the sound of his name, a soft blue light filled the room as his holograph took shape. He was tall with broad shoulders and wore the type of old suit Amber had only seen in the archives of ancient Earth. He nodded at her.
“There was a glitch in my system at the precise moment you arrived. Data corrupt. I cannot confirm who returned you to us,” he said. His voice was monotone, per usual.
“But surely that can’t be.” Her heart beat rapidly in her chest at his words. If what he was saying was true, then whoever had brought her here knew how to disrupt even the most sophisticated computer programs.
“Indeed, it is,” he said, still in that monotone voice. “My system noticed disruption beginning at 0343 hours, which ended at precisely 0350 hours. Not even a shadow of you or the person who brought here can be seen on the footage.”
