I turned the paper over again, and examined the set of complicated sigils interlocked to make one large design. I didn’t recognize it, and wondered how it would help me in an emergency if I couldn’t even make out what it meant or how to use it.
Crazy old sorcerer.
I folded it and placed the small slip of paper in my pocket, opening the map and stretching it out on a nearby table. It was a map of lower Manhattan, below 14th Street.
One area was circled in red. The address was written on the side of the map, and there was a large arrow pointing to the circle. Gryn wasn’t being subtle. The circle was located in what used to be an area of warehouses, but was now known as the Triangle Below Canal Street—or ‘Tribeca’ for those in the know.
The city was full of these new names for old neighborhoods. Noho, Soho and Dumbo. The last one, located in Brooklyn, really was a stretch. DUMBO stood for Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass. Basically, what it meant was: we need a new upscale name for this old area so we can charge exorbitant prices to the new transplants that move into this area—the Dumbos.
Actually, giving it some more thought, I realized the name fit.
The address was located farther downtown—74 Laight Street. It was an area that used to be mostly industrial spaces, but had been converted to upscale apartments and restaurants in recent years, in an effort to attract money to a forgotten neighborhood.
It worked.
Tribeca was now considered upscale, with money pouring in to finance new construction and a massive wave of gentrification. The old lofts, which used to be populated by artists and creatives, were now renovated spaces priced in the stratosphere.
Attached to the back of the map, were the plans of a large warehouse with an extensive complex of tunnels beneath it. Tunnels that, upon further investigation, made no sense in that part of the city. I studied the plans for a few minutes, memorizing points of entry and egress, before heading out of the warehouse.
I took one last look around the warehouse of pain before stepping out of the door and into the early night. Gryn was right. Time snapped back into place the moment I stepped on the sidewalk outside the warehouse. I looked back to find the entrance, but the door I had just used was gone.
Parked on the street, directly in front of me was Eight.
I placed my hand on her side and she purred to life with a roar of her engine. The door flashed orange as the sigils inscribed on her bloomed to life.
I patted the steering wheel as I strapped in. Eight gave another, louder roar, and then settled into a throaty rumble.
“I missed you too,” I said, adjusting my straps. “Let’s go get Acheron.”
I raced down the street and drove downtown, avoiding most of the traffic.
I parked a few blocks away from my target location. Eight was many things, but subtle wasn’t one of them. She didn’t pull off stealthy well. Her engine’s idle could be louder than some cars in full rev. I loved that sound, but tonight I needed a silent approach.
I fully expected to run into Black Cleavers. Only they were crazy enough to try and kidnap a Demon Lord. There was only one problem with that scenario though. Black Cleavers were mostly unhinged fanatics, few of them had the capacity to banish, much less rend a demon of Acheron’s level.
Kidnapping and containing Acheron would’ve required sorcerers of considerable skill—something I knew the Cleavers lacked. It was possible the Cleavers were foot soldiers in this, but someone else was pulling the strings—someone powerful.
I took one last look at the plans, and stepped out of Eight, placing a hand on her side to lock her tight. I walked down Washington Street, keeping to the shadows and pausing in my approach several times to flush out any tails.
A block away, I partially extended my claws, and used them as crampons to scale the building adjacent to the one I needed to infiltrate. No one would be expecting a top-down approach, especially if they were using the tunnels below the warehouse to contain Acheron.
The Cleavers weren’t smart, but they made up for that with sheer numbers. Never underestimate what a group of easily manipulated sorcerers, with the collective IQ of a brick, could accomplish if directed with skill.
It was actually scary to see them in action.
I scaled over the edge of the building and looked across. At first, the image didn’t register. On the roof across from mine, I saw four Agents from the Order of Supernatural Affairs, one stationed in each of the corners.
What the hell was the OSA doing here?
It didn’t make sense. The OSA stationed on the roof was the last thing I expected. Cleavers were one thing, but OSA Agents were somewhat competent. This changed everything. I couldn’t count on collective stupidity now.
It started to make some kind of sense though; the attack at the Seven HQ was too coordinated. The way they managed to get the jump on us, knowing to attack while we were in the labyrinth and Acheron was at a disadvantage, was too clever for the Cleavers by half.
I still didn’t have the entire picture, but it was coming into focus. How did they know we were in the labyrinth? Someone inside the Seven must have let them know. It didn’t surprise me that had been attacked. What pissed me off was that they thought we were low hanging fruit. Did they think they could do this without consequences?
If I wanted answers, I’d have to ask questions…violently.
Gryn’s words came back to me: Adjust, adapt, or die.
“Adjust and adapt it is,” I said to myself, as I made my way silently to the edge of the roof. “Time for pain.”
I leaped across the gap between the buildings and landed noiselessly on the roof, surrounded by oblivious OSA Agents. This night had just gone horribly wrong for them.
They just didn’t know it yet.
SEVEN
I made my way to the first OSA Agent.
I had options. If I pushed him off the roof, it would look like an accident, but it would get everyone’s attention.
The roof had several air conditioning units and electrical boxes situated in the center of the space and provided adequate cover. The corners of the building were mostly bare, except for large cellphone signal boosters that dominated most of the real estate on the buildings in the city.
Attention was the last thing I wanted right now. The voice of the Darkin echoed in my head.
“Destroy him where he stands. He is an enemy and deserves no less.”
“You need to dial it back…way back. I have too much baggage in my head to add your bloodlust.”
“You are now Darkin. You must destroy. It is your purpose.”
“My purpose is to rescue my friend. Then we can discuss wholesale destruction.”
“After the rescue?” It asked hopefully. “Then you will unleash pain and death?”
“If you can manage to keep it down while I figure out how to get to Acheron and get out of here alive…then yes, we’ll go to town.”
“We are destroying an entire town? I approve.”
“Not an entire town…never mind. Keep quiet.”
The voice died down as I crouched down behind Agent One. I extended the claws on one hand and was about to slit his throat, effectively silencing him, when one of the other OSA Agents spoke.
“Do you think she’ll come?”
I slipped back into the cover provided by the HVAC ducts as I pinpointed who spoke. It was the Agent adjacent to my initial target, Agent Two. The conversation seemed relevant. I figured they were waiting for me, considering my connection to Acheron.
I was somewhat insulted there were only four of them. Clearly, I needed to work on my threat rep. Four OSA agents as a deterrent hardly seemed appropriate for an Otherkin of my skill. There should have been at least ten agents on the roof.
“Doesn’t matter,” Agent One, my initial target answered. “We end that filthy demon tomorrow at sunrise. If she comes before then, we detain until sunrise. Instructions are to hold until dawn, and then we rend them both.”
La
st I checked, I wasn’t susceptible to sunlight. Maybe these rocket scientists had me confused with a vampire. Demons weren’t affected by the sun or any dawn rituals. They didn’t grow weaker in sunlight, and I was curious if a rending increased in strength during the day as opposed to the night. I would have to do some research on the rending ritual—right after I dealt with these OSA Agents.
“I’ve never done a rending, never even seen one, have you?” Agent Two asked. “I hear it’s agony for them.”
“It’s what they deserve, goddamn demons,” Agent One answered. “They don’t belong here. They belong in hell.”
“No, they deserve to be destroyed, period,” Agent Three said from across the roof. “I just want to be there when it happens.”
Great, a fan club. Righteous, clueless and sadistic. I was going to enjoy eliminating those three. They were the typical OSA type: full of themselves and empty of all sense. They usually realized the error of their ways when gasping their last breath at the hands of an angry demon. Tonight, I would be playing the part of angry demon.
It was the last agent that gave me pause.
The fourth Agent had remained quiet. He was the one I deemed most dangerous. He kept his eyes scanning. Not only would he observe his quadrant out over the side of the building, but he would turn back and look at the roof behind him at regular intervals.
“What do you think, Carter?” Agent Three asked the silent Agent Four. “You think she’ll show?”
“I think you should all keep your mouths shut and focus on why we’re up here in the first place,” Carter answered with a quiet menace. “None of you have faced something like her. If she does show, most of you will piss your pants, right before she shreds you. Now, eyes up and focus.”
“Shit,” Agent Two scoffed. “I saw her in the labyrinth. She was five foot nothing of half-demon and ran her ass off after a few orbs slapped her in the face. I’m not feeling the threat. I’ll take her on alone if you’re too scared, Carter.”
Agent One and Three laughed.
“Damn straight, I’m scared,” Carter shot back. “If you had any sense, you’d be scared too. She bonded to a demon, and not just a regular one, but a Demon Lord.”
“Big deal,” Agent One said. “It’s still a demon and it can still be destroyed.”
“You really are clueless,” Carter said. “Did you even read the mission brief?”
“What’s to read?” Agent One replied with a chuckle. “She’s a demon. Her buddy downstairs is a big demon. Tomorrow he burns. If she shows up, she burns with him.”
Carter looked around the roof for a few seconds before answering.
“A Demon Lord shouldn’t be able to be bound,” Carter answered, still scanning the roof. “The fact that she managed it means she presents a real threat. But since you’re going to take her on alone… well, now I feel all secure.”
“I heard she was human once, before she made a blood pact with the demon downstairs,” Agent One said, becoming serious. “You think she’ll survive the rending? I mean she is half-human.”
“She’s not human anymore,” Agent Two answered. “She’s a demon bitch now. What? You feeling sorry for her?”
“Me?” Agent One said. “Hell no. I was just curious what would happen after the rending.”
“No one assigned you to this post because of your curiosity,” Carter answered. “You’re here because there’s a good chance she will try this approach first.”
“Wait a min,” Agent Three said. “They think she might come up here first?”
“Yes,” Carter said, “and they put us here in case she did. What does that tell you?”
“It tells me I need more hazard pay. What the fuck?” Agent One said. “Whose idea was that?”
“We’re fucking expendables,” Agent Two said. “Shit, we got redshirt duty. Seriously?”
“Doesn’t mean anything,” Agent One said. “If she comes here, we’ll blast her. I don’t know how she survived in the labyrinth, but she shows her face here, I’ll make sure to rip—”
Agent One never got to finish his sentence. I had crouched behind him again, drawn my claws and severed his Achilles tendons, compromising his balance. He teetered near the edge for a second, before I assisted him forward with a gentle push, sending him out over the edge and into space.
The look of surprise on his face as he plummeted was almost as satisfying as the wet thud his body made when it impacted the street below. I slid back into the cover of darkness and moved away from the edge.
“Holy fuck!” Agent Two yelled, moving away from his post and backing into the HVAC ducts. The same ducts where I waited, crouched. “Brenner fell off!”
“Keep it together,” Agent Three hissed, looking around and drawing a gun. “He was clumsy. Don’t you be stupid. If he fell, fine, we’ll fill out a report. In the meantime, we sweep the roof.”
“You think she’s—” Agent Two began, his words dying with him as I slit his throat and dropped him quietly behind the ducts.
“Louis?” Agent Three asked. “Stop fucking around…this is no time for games.”
Agent Three made his way to where Louis had made his last stand and looked around. I stepped silently around him, crawled under the ducts, and approached from his side. The best way to a man’s heart is through the third and fourth rib, at least from my angle of attack. I let my claws shred his heart with one silent strike. He crumpled to the ground, falling on Louis.
He was dead before he hit the floor.
“You did this,” I said, stepping out into the open. “You set them up.”
“I did,” Carter admitted. “I had to see what we were facing. I have to say, I’m impressed.”
“Where’s Acheron?”
“Your demon pet? Downstairs, but you won’t make it to him alive. Trust me.”
“Trust you? I’m here to end you.”
He formed an orb of red energy in his hand as I closed the distance.
EIGHT
Carter was good.
Just not as good as he thought he was. I could smell the fear coming off of him. Acrid sweat with an undercurrent of putrid locker room wafted over to my nose. He was scared shitless and putting on a brave face to hide it.
Too bad he couldn’t mask the stench that was punching me in the nose.
“That was clever,” I said, trying to put some of the duct work between us. “Is that a new strategy at the Order of Supernatural Asses? How to use your team as bait?”
I had a feeling the OSA had no idea I wasn’t just a regular Otherkin—if there was anything regular about Otherkin in the first place. I wasn’t going to reveal my transformation.
Not yet.
The orb of red energy sailed at me. It looked and felt potent at first glance, but I had been dodging Gryn’s obliterators for the better part of three weeks. I was almost tempted to let the orb hit me. I figured evasion would be the better option.
Gryn’s words came back to me: Economy of motion. Efficiency of execution.
I sidestepped the orb at the last moment, letting it sail past me and into the night. I glanced over my shoulder just to make sure it wasn’t coming back to bite me in the ass…literally. Gryn would’ve had it return and blast me in the back. Carter was nowhere near the skill level of Gryn, but I wasn’t taking any chances.
The look on Carter’s face spoke volumes. In his mind, I shouldn’t have been able to dodge his orb. In that brief moment, everything he thought he knew about the world had just been upheaved and shattered.
“How…how did you—?” he stammered.
“How did I dodge your orb?”
“You weren’t supposed to be able to do that,” he said, his voice betraying his anger. “They briefed us on you and your abilities. You may have heightened reflexes, but that won’t save you.”
I realized in that moment that Carter was just like the three agents—he was being used to gauge my skill level. Someone wanted to know how strong I was. I almost felt sorry for him.
He did try to blast me with an orb, and frankly, the smell coming off of him was becoming an environmental hazard. Despite all of that, I was willing to postpone his termination to a date that didn’t conflict with the rescue of Acheron.
I’m thoughtful that way.
“Listen,” I said as he formed another orb of red energy. “Why don’t we put a pin in this? I can always kill you later, if you want.”
“Kill me later?” Carter asked, his voice dark now as the rage surfaced. I could still hear—and smell—the undercurrent of fear, but he was determined to take me out. “I’m going to kill you now.”
“You don’t get it,” I said. “You’re as much a redshirt as your three dead friends. Someone is playing you.”
“Fuck you, demon,” Carter said and unleashed the orb. “Die.”
I really was willing to kill him later, but the insult sealed his fate. Well, the insult and the second orb he threw at me. One orb? Fine, I can cut some slack. Two orbs and a curse? I have to draw the line somewhere.
I sidestepped the second, third and fourth orbs, getting closer with each evasion. By the time he missed with the fourth orb, I had buried my claws in his neck and watched him bleed out on the roof.
I turned to the sound of soft clapping.
A tall figure stood at the other end of the roof, right on the edge. I felt the energy coming off him and realized this was the real threat.
“Impressive,” he said after he finished clapping. “I underestimated you, Otherkin.”
His bass voice echoed across the roof. He wore a dark suit with a blood red shirt and a black tie. I took in his scent and noticed the absence of fear coming from him. This was no amateur. He wasn’t as strong as Gryn, but he wasn’t a pushover either.
“Who are you?” I asked, shifting my body to one side to present less of a target. “Where’s Acheron?”
They Rend: A Nyxia White Story (The Nyxia White Stories Book 2) Page 4
