Covenant

by Mel Odom

  “No,” Warren replied.

  “We can slow our fall with our powers.”

  “No. There are too many of them waiting out there.”

  “We’re not going to get out of here.”

  “Yes we will. Stay with me.” Warren held the spear in both hands before him. He channeled the supercharged arcane force now at his disposal and created a massive wall of fire that blazed back over the Gremlins. Only Warren’s shield kept the flames from consuming them as well.

  The demons had no chance for escape. Almost to a creature, they caught fire and burned like kindling, dropping to the floor in twisted, blackened lumps. Some of them shattered into ash.

  For a moment, the room was empty.

  The heat washed over Warren in spite of his shield. He focused again, once more channeling the energy through the spear, and directed a shockwave at the wall beside the door where Gremlin corpses blocked the way.

  With a thunderous crash, the wall shattered, then blew outward to leave a gaping hole. The Gremlins standing behind the wall were flattened or blown away. Beyond them, the elevator doors caved in with a metallic shrill.

  “Come on!” Warren grabbed Naomi’s hand with his human one and got her into motion. He ran through the hole. Lilith followed.

  Never breaking stride, Warren ran across the downed Gremlins and straight for the elevator shaft. He threw the spear out and directed another blast of force toward the doors hanging askew. The doors ripped away and fell down into the dark shaft.

  “Jump!” Warren shouted. Naomi fought against him, but Gremlins had already recovered enough to fire at them. He tightened his grip on her hand and yanked her after him as he went over the edge and fell into darkness.

  Naomi screamed.

  Warren didn’t blame her. Hurtling down the dark elevator shaft proved terrifying. He switched over to his night eyes and saw the elevator cage rushing up at them. Of course, it wasn’t actually moving because he hadn’t wired it through the emergency generator, but it gave the appearance of doing so.

  Tapping into his power, he halted his downward plummet and held on to Naomi. Her weight hit the end of his arm and dragged him off balance. They fell again, but the shorter fall lessened the impact greatly. Still, Warren felt ribs on his right side crack as he struck the top of the elevator cage.

  Lilith floated to a graceful stop above him. “You’ve trapped us,” she snarled.

  Unable to draw a breath against the pain of his cracked ribs, Warren managed to stand. He swayed and felt sick, and he regretted what he had to do next. Concentrating, he blasted another force wave through the elevator cage. It crumpled beneath them and they fell again.

  His ribs burned as he pushed himself to his knees. He placed his free hand against the elevator doors and blasted them. They ripped from their moorings as the Gremlins leaned over the opening on the fourth floor. Bullets and beams rattled the shaft.

  Warren lurched through the opening. Lilith floated by him before he got through. He pulled Naomi from the wreckage and hauled her into the building’s basement.

  The Soho District was old. The building was one of the oldest and didn’t have a parking garage beneath it. Abandoned machinery, crates, and boxes halfway filled the storage area.

  Finally the deathgrip of pain in Warren’s side released its hold, and he sucked in a breath just as black comets whirled in his vision. He cried out, but even that hurt.

  “Where are we?” Naomi asked.

  “You’re taking us from one trap to another,” Lilith complained.

  “Always,” Warren wheezed, “always…have a way…out.” He crossed the room and gestured at a stack of crates. Swept by an invisible wind, the crates tumbled out of the way to reveal a blank section of wall.

  “There’s no door,” Naomi said.

  Warren drew another breath. “No door,” he agreed. “Escape routes…should be…marked.” He pressed against the wall. “There’s an…an old tunnel…next to…this basement. Probably…used it…for smuggling. Or supplies. Found it…on blueprints. I chiseled…through the wall…reset the blocks…with weak mortar.”

  He blasted through the blocks. They cascaded before him, shattering and spilling across the rough-hewn floor of the tunnel just beyond.

  The passageway reeked of age and mold. Lampblack stained the ceiling, visible to Warren’s night vision. Scuff marks scarred the stone floor.

  “Which way?” Lilith asked as she floated out into the passageway.

  “Left.” Warren stepped through after her. He breathed easier now, but pain still gripped him.

  “Where does it go?”

  “Away from here.” Warren paused to flick the arming trigger of a remote detonator he’d placed on the wall when he’d broken into the tunnel.

  “What’s that?” Naomi demanded.

  “Plastic explosive.” That was easy enough to find these days with armories left undefended. There were even manuals that told him how to use it.

  “You’re insane.”

  “We can’t…outrun them.”

  “Can we outrun the blast?”

  “Have to…find out.” Warren leaned into his stride, and found he couldn’t quite manage to get up to a run. Naomi grabbed his free arm and yanked him to greater speed.

  A few of the faster Gremlins reached the opening before the plastic explosive went off. The explosion filled the tunnel with light and noise. The concussive wave knocked Warren flat. He hovered on the edge of consciousness, barely aware that a large section of the tunnel—more than he would have guessed—had collapsed.

  Then he spiraled into darkness.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  W hat are you still doing here, Creasey? Everybody figured you’d be out there hiding with your Templar buddies instead of risking your life with the rest of us.”

  Be cool, Leah told herself. Ignore them.

  It was hard, though. Since she’d returned to the Agency complex, the obvious lack of acceptance by her peers was sandpaper to an unprotected nerve. There had already been some of that before she’d gone to take Lyra Darius’s message to Simon. The hostility had escalated.

  She lifted a boot to the bench in the coed locker room and started on the buckles. Her boot, like the rest of her armor, was covered in blood. Most of the blood had belonged to demons, but some of it had belonged to human wounded and to two men who had died in her arms tonight.

  “Are you listening to me, Creasey?” Dockery roared.

  Let it go, Leah thought. She almost had the boot off. Blood turned her gloves slippery and made the task more difficult.

  A heavy hand dropped onto her shoulder and yanked her around. Dockery stood a head taller than she was, a massive man with a barrel chest. He was in his early thirties. He had his helmet mask off. Close-shaven black hair covered his head and five o’clock shadow stubbled his jaw. His features looked broad and mulish.

  Leah swung her forearm up and batted his hand away. She kept both of her fists on either side of her face in the ready position.

  “I heard you, Dockery,” Leah said. “Back off. I don’t want to talk to you.”

  “Maybe I want to talk to you, love,” Dockery snarled.

  “I’ll bring charges against you.”

  Dockery laughed. “I go out there every day and wage war against demons, love. Do you really think having charges brought against me worries me?”

  Leah felt foolish. Before the invasion, charges within the Agency were serious matters.

  “I was in the Royal Marines before all this went down,” Dockery said. “I knew about hard times even then while you were still learning spy tricks. We fought people face-to-face in those days. None of this hiding-in-the-shadows crap you people are taught.”

  A crowd had gathered in the locker room. No one seemed interested in stepping in to break up the potential fight.

  “You’ve had a hard night,” Leah said evenly. “We all have.”

  “Not all of us have had a mate die in his arms tonight,” Dockery said. �
��Wendell Tate was a good man. A Royal Marine. Easily worth four or five times as much as the likes of you.”

  That drew some remonstrations from the crowd. Even though the spy organizations and military departments had come together under the same covert umbrella as a result of the Hellgate invasion, that joining of forces wasn’t seamless.

  “A lot of people died tonight,” Leah said. “A lot of good people.”

  “I know. And you insist on running off to hook up with those cowardly Templar.”

  He’s just baiting you. Leah took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “I want you to leave me alone,” Leah stated.

  “Too bad. I think it’s time you figured out where your loyalties lie.” Dockery shoved a big hand forward and slammed her shoulder.

  Leah caught his wrist with her left hand, grabbed his elbow with her right, and tried to force him into an arm-bar hold. Dockery kicked a foot out and tripped her as he rotated his upper body. Off balance, Leah had no choice but to release her hold and step back quickly. She lifted her hands again and barely got them up before Dockery came at her.

  “You shouldn’t have done that, love,” he rasped. A malicious grin pulled at his mouth. “Now see, you’re going to regret that.”

  Leah avoided a jab and let it sail by her ear. Intentionally, she backed toward a stand of lockers. The observers gave ground reluctantly behind her, not wanting to lose their front-row positions, then jockeyed for those same positions as the circle broke into a semicircle. Savage voices filled the locker room.

  Dockery feinted, but Leah realized by his stance that he wasn’t putting any commitment into the effort. She closed her hands and let his next blow hit her. Flush with success, Dockery swung again, stepping forward and powering the punch this time.

  Bending her knees, Leah dropped below the vicious punch. Dockery’s big fist smashed into the locker and punched through the flimsy door. He struggled to get his hand free of the torn metal. Before he got loose, Leah slid out beside him, then whirled in a downward axe kick behind her opponent’s knee.

  Dockery’s leg crumpled and he went down. The angle further trapped his fist, which was an unexpected bonus. Leah grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his face around to look at her.

  “Don’t you come at me again,” Leah told him calmly. “Not ever again.”

  The big man cursed and tried to get up. Leah slapped her palm against the back of Dockery’s neck and unleashed the fifty thousand volts stored in her suit’s capacitors. Dockery jerked wildly for a moment, every muscle in his body taut with stress, then he slumped into unconsciousness.

  “You’re going to pay for that,” one of Dockery’s fellow Royal Marines threatened.

  Leah dropped back into a defensive posture. The room remained divided, but Dockery and the military contingent formed a tight little group. She doubted anyone would step forward to her defense.

  “That’ll be just about enough of the roughhousing,” a crisp voice announced. “The next one of you to throw a punch will be joining Sergeant Dockery in lockup.”

  The crowd parted as Lyra Darius walked among them. Four heavily armed security staff trailed in her wake. She stopped at Leah’s side and stared at the gathered crowd.

  “Riordan and Jacobs,” Lyra said. “You claim to be friends of the sergeant. Get him to medical and have him checked over. Once the physician declares him fit, escort him to lockup. I’ll be along to make sure that happens. If it doesn’t, you’ll be joining him. Are we clear here?”

  “Crystal, ma’am,” one of the two men replied grudgingly.

  Lyra glanced at Leah. “You’re coming with me.”

  Leah quelled the immediate impulse to fight against being treated as if she were guilty of anything. “Yes, ma’am.”

  When they entered Lyra Darius’s private office, Leah stood at attention in front of the desk. Her gaze roved around the room. Nothing personal existed in there, nothing to hint at who Lyra Darius had ever been before or after joining the intelligence agency.

  “Don’t be silly. You’re not in any kind of trouble. It’s just better if Dockery and his lackeys think I’m reading you the riot act. Have a seat.”

  Feeling a little relieved, Leah sat in one of the two nondescript chairs in front of the metal desk. Lyra sat across from her.

  “Things must be difficult for you,” Lyra said.

  “I’m doing fine, ma’am.” Leah kept her face neutral.

  “Yes, I can see that. Brawling in one of the common rooms with your teammates is a perfect indication of how fine you’re doing.”

  “That fight was not my fault.”

  “Of course it was.” Lyra leaned back in her chair.

  Leah barely managed to remain seated. “Begging your pardon, ma’am, but I didn’t start that.”

  “You did. The minute you stepped outside Agency lines and got involved with Simon Cross four years ago.”

  Not with the Templar. With Simon Cross. Leah took note of the distinction.

  “Are you upset with me, ma’am?” Leah asked.

  “Not with you. With the situation.” Lyra shook her head. “And more upset for you than with you.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You’ve placed yourself in an untenable position.”

  “I don’t see how.”

  “Because you’re getting special dispensation from the Templar. The rest of the people here are not.”

  “They don’t want it.”

  “Of course they don’t. This lot is too prideful and mired in their elitist thinking. They believe they’re better than the Templar, so they are.”

  “Not hardly.”

  “They see themselves as taking the war to the demons. That’s what they’ve always trained to do. Make the other side lose as heavily as we do. Unfortunately, none of the people these soldiers and agents have been up against in the past have ever been so willing to expend troops. Nor were they ever as well equipped. Not even the Middle Eastern terrorists in the early years of this century.”

  Leah remained silent.

  “One way or another, this will sort itself out,” Lyra said. “It would have been better if so many people here didn’t focus on you as being part of the problem.” She looked at Leah with concern. “I am loath to send you back out into the field.”

  “Why? Because you don’t trust me?”

  “I trust you. I just don’t trust all of those people out there to stand with you if it comes to that.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  Lyra smiled sadly. “The days of us taking care of ourselves are over.”

  “I still have a few friends,” Leah said.

  “Yes. I know that you do. And when they are shunned by men like Dockery? What do you do then? How far will this division go before our center no longer holds?”

  Leah thought about that. “Are you suggesting that I leave?”

  Lyra regarded her calmly. “Not yet. At the moment, I don’t think it’s come to that. But it might. When it does, I’ll let you know.”

  Leah gave a tight nod.

  “And if it does, do you think you could take safe harbor with the Templar?”

  With practiced ease, Leah lied. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Lyra frowned. “A pretty deceit if I’ve ever seen one. Even as good-natured as Simon Cross is purported to be, I daresay he may have had enough after this last meeting with you.”

  “Possibly.”

  “Before I turn you out of here, I’ll find another place for you. You have my word on that.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Thank you. Will there be anything else?”

  “Yes.” Lyra leaned onto the desk and spoke kindly. “Step easily while you’re out there, Leah. Animosity like this isn’t always given the time it needs to work through. The friend you think you have at your back…may not be.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ve already been aware of that.” Leah stood and saluted.

  Lyra stood and saluted back. “There is one more t
hing I’d ask of you. In case anyone asks, tell them that I was rude and offensive to you.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Leah left the room and stepped out into the hallway. Before she’d entered Lyra’s office, the complex hadn’t felt like a safe haven, but she was surprised at how much less so it felt now.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  W arren woke in the middle of a forest instead of the underground passage. Confused, he stared around at the sunlight streaming through the emerald trees and bushes surrounding him. He clenched his right hand and found that it was still there, still made of metal, and it was still tight around the spear. Some things hadn’t changed.

  Birds sang in the trees and fluttered from branch to branch. Somewhere off to the left a brook gurgled as it passed. The scent of pines and grass filled his nose, and he thought he smelled apples as well. His stomach rumbled at the apples. It had been over three long years since he’d had fresh fruit. The only apples that existed these days were in cans or dehydrated packages.

  He realized the fiery pain in his side was gone. He decided to take hope in that. There was no way he’d gone numb to that, and no way the damage had healed on its own.

  “Get up, Warren,” a familiar voice urged. “In this place, no one will try to harm you. This is a safe place.”

  The ground vibrated slightly as someone walked toward him. Screwing down the fear that throbbed within him, Warren rolled over and got to his feet. He brought the spear up in both hands. The duster felt solid and impenetrable around him, hardly shifting except to conform to his movements.

  A strange creature stood in front of Warren. It took a quick step back from the spear.

  “I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t wave that in my direction,” the being said. “That’s a powerful weapon. If I’d had my choice, I would have left it behind. But it, like the coat that you wear, seems to have bonded with you.”

  “Who are you?” Warren demanded.

  The creature stood barely four feet tall. Slender and elfin, it didn’t look like a threat. That didn’t mean anything. Warren had seen demons no bigger than his little finger burrow into a man’s flesh to seek out his heart or his brain and kill him.