Witch of the Midnight Blade

by Kris Austen Radcliffe

  In front of us, the hound’s back-line dropped toward the pavement—it must have dropped into a crouch.

  “Leif…” I said as Addy and I moved toward the bus door.

  His arm pulled back. His hand glowed. And the Seraphim I shouldn’t trust, yet knew needed trusting, slapped his hand onto the invisible neck of the rhino-sized hellhound.

  The monster suddenly, completely blinked into visibility. It wailed and rocked, and flopped down on the gravel edging the road.

  “It won’t last long.” Leif pointed at the bus. “Everyone on the bus now!”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Alt-me spun Stab around her wrist. The sword had woven a new-space net around her hand, wrist, and forearm, and would be near impossible to disconnect from her body.

  The net would do its own damage, but that didn’t matter. She’d be dead soon enough, anyway.

  The Emperor had cleared the Dragonslayer, and brought down the remaining pilots and Seraphim. Alt-me had no idea why; the Dragonslayer was “humanity’s last hope,” and clearing her of the remaining capable humans didn’t seem like a good idea. But Alt-me was just the Witch of the Midnight Blade and not part of the Imperium Legions, and only knew what the voices told her.

  And the strongest voice told her that in order to save humanity, she had to do the opposite of what the world needed. Now, here, she had to steal the Dragonslayer. She needed to take away that hope. She needed to sentence her world to a slow, unavoidable death.

  Less than half a billion humans remained scattered throughout the world, mostly in hidden, isolated spots. New Zealand and Iceland still stood, still prayed to Odin and produced elite soldiers. The Russians still had launch and re-entry capabilities. The last of the African nations were managing to hold back some of the dragon terraforming, as were a few of the remaining South American nations, but they would lose that battle sooner than later.

  High beams blasted from a vehicle not far from Alt-me.

  Alt-me stood in an open field in what used to be Nebraska, among the cold-scented purple dragon-weeds and the wiggling, creeping dragon-grass, holding a time-traveling sword and waiting for her death to waltz his commanding self into her life. He was one of the few faces everyone left could identify: The Emperor. The Tsar. Guard member. Seraphim.

  The Judicial High Commander.

  I gasped as reality slammed back into my senses. I’d been with Alt-me, completely with her and not here in my own body. I looked around. It couldn’t have more than a flash—Leif was just finishing saying now! Addy hadn’t moved.

  I was okay. At least here, I was okay, but Stab’s bond to my hand flared up my arm the way it had for Alt-me, and in my other hand, my fingers rolled the ring until they worked it onto my thumb, my only digit wide enough to hold it.

  Addy gripped my elbow. Her sweeping present-seer washed over me, and her face showed momentary confusion, even with the dark glasses.

  But she wasn’t looking at me. She was watching the top of the bus.

  A mirage-like shimmer leaped off the roof. It spread its arms and I swear reoriented itself midair to compensate for Leif realizing he was about to take a hit.

  Leif tossed the shimmer back at the side of the bus. It hit hard, leaving a dent directly under the windows next to the rear seats, and dropped to the ground.

  I pointed Stab at the shimmer. “Seraphim armor makes them invisible.”

  Addy’s two seers erupted outward in a tight sweep. “We need to leave now!” she yelled.

  The hound howled again, and fidgeted, as if fighting whatever Leif had done to make it calm down.

  The shimmer rolled toward Marcus. Nax kicked at its head. Harold couldn’t see it well enough to aim, and stepped protectively in front of Marcus.

  The Seraphim latched onto Nax’s leg. He bellowed, doing his best to stay upright, not only for himself, but also so he didn’t fall into Marcus and Harold.

  Nax’s foot hit the shimmer’s shoulder and a pulse of light burst from the spot, across the Seraphim’s chest, and over onto her other shoulder.

  “Stand down, Penny!” Leif hauled the other, still-invisible Seraphim to her feet. He waved his free hand at the other men. “Get on the bus,” he said.

  Harold immediately shepherded Marcus toward the steps. Nax, though, stepped between the bus and the two Seraphim. “Is Vivicus here?” Nax asked.

  Harold and Marcus froze. Addy, still next to me, twisted her head as if listening. “Vivicus,” she whispered. “Of course.”

  The armor of the Seraphim named Penny cycled down into the pixelated, snow-like camo pattern they’d showed at the house. “Why did you let the old lady hold your armor?” Penny asked.

  “I have this under control,” Leif snapped.

  “Do you?” Penny gave him a shove. “Vick said you’d go native. He said of all of us, you’d be the one who’d find some humanity in that bitch.”

  She pointed at me.

  Leif snatched Penny by the neck, spun her around, and put her in a headlock. “Get everyone on the bus now.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Goddamn it, Uncle Marcus, get your ass up those steps.” He nodded toward Addy. “Were you holding them hostage? Because I killed you once already, Adrestia. I’ll do it again.”

  She held up her hands. “It’s not what you think.”

  “It’s not!” Harold yelled from the base of the steps.

  Leif glanced over his shoulder at Harold. “I don’t know you.” Then he shook Penny. “She’s not alone.”

  Harold almost got Marcus onto the bus. Almost.

  The other Seraphim rammed him into the open door, and pushed both him and Marcus to the ground.

  It had to be Vivicus, unless some of the other Seraphim had come back. But they “went in,” as Leif wanted me to do, and they would have come back with reinforcements like helicopters, and maybe a tank or two.

  Leif tossed Penny at the hound. It yipped and backed away again, and thankfully didn’t attack. He turned on his heels to deal with the Seraphim who’d hit Marcus.

  Leif was fast. So was Vivicus.

  He charged Addy and me.

  Addy’s dark glasses flew from her face. She coughed—Vivicus’s hit took the wind out of her—but she didn’t trip. She didn’t fall. She… twitched. I wasn’t sure she twitched in the real, but something about her flickered, and all my sense that I’d been talking to her onboard ghost—the man I saw when I looked at her in the gray—subsumed under something vicious.

  Vicious, fast, and used to maneuvering her body.

  The blind woman pivoted on her heel, spun with his hit, and yanked on the side of his invisible helmet. She got her fingers into one of the seams along his cheek and tore off an entire chunk of little glowing sharp-cornered hexagonal plates.

  His suit sparked. He growled and turned, still invisible except for the hole, and reached for her again.

  A burst of rapid, angry-sounding French ripped from her throat. She swung with the hand holding the bits of his armor.

  Her open palm hit his cheekbone, along the spot from which she’d torn the plates, and instead of backing away, she pressed her palm upward, toward his eye.

  She grunted. Vivicus growled.

  Blood flowed out of a hole surrounded by invisibility.

  “Enough!” Leif yelled.

  Addy twitched again, and she looked down and to the left the way a sighted person does when talking to herself.

  She was talking to her ghost. Or, more likely, the ghost had reassumed dominance and they were yelling at each other.

  Vivicus had no clue. Leif, either. Penny the back-up Seraphim seemed too consumed with the hellhound to pick up much of anything.

  I probably only noticed Addy’s changes because I’d been working with Mrs. K for so long.

  Vivicus took his hand off his face as his suit cycled down. Blood covered the hole, but no wound was visible.

  I looked back at Addy. Blood dripped from her hand.

  She’d cut herself cutting him.


  I opened my mouth to ask her to let me look at it, but she balled her fist and quickly shook her head no.

  “I had this under control!” Leif shoved Vivicus. “They would have come in on their own terms. Isn’t that better for everyone? The world? To have a Del Parrish who helps to build instead of destroying everyone’s last hope?”

  Vivicus wiped the blood off his cheek, then stuck his still-gloved finger in his mouth and sucked on it like a vampire. “You are a sucker just like your father.”

  Leif froze. His neck pulsed.

  He threw up his hands as if signaling defeat. “You know our mission. You don’t need to hurt her. You don’t need to hurt anyone here, Vick. You either, Penelope. We can all go in. Break bread with the Emperor and share our knowledge and technology. Do what we’re supposed to do—save everyone.”

  Addy’s mouth rounded. Her seer swept the area—and stopped on me like a giant spotlight.

  Everyone looked at me. Vivicus and Penelope. Nax. Leif and Marcus. Every single one of the people standing around the bus who had superpowers turned their heads and looked at me as if Addy’s abilities had just painted a massive target on my forehead.

  I swear even the whining hellhound took notice.

  Vivicus pointed at Addy. He twisted his head and popped his shoulders like the douchebro I kept accusing Leif of being. “Are you a War Baby here, Adrestia? A murdering—”

  A gun fired. The bullet hit the hole in Vivicus’s helmet and ripped the side of his head right off his face.

  I shrieked. Even when Ismene hurt him and the other Seraphim at my parents’ house, it hadn’t been this bloody. I hadn’t seen bone or brains. I’d never smelled the inside of a human’s head.

  I couldn’t throw up. I had to keep it together. We were in full chaos, with injured, and I couldn’t drop into the frenzy with the gore and the screaming.

  I couldn’t help, either, holding Stab. I had no idea how to use her against the hellhound, or Vivicus, and after seeing his brain, I wasn’t sure I had the stomach for defensive slashing, anyway.

  He roared a guttural, throaty call at the sky. The blood stopped, and the side of his face began filling in again, but he couldn’t yet speak.

  Harold shot at the hellhound.

  It roared and swiped at Penny the back-up Seraphim, but she danced out of the way and slammed her fist into its broken leg.

  The hound snapped its jaws onto her shoulder. She grunted and slammed a fist into its snout, but it didn’t let go. The hound lifted her off the ground and shook her like a ragdoll.

  Leif threw out his hands and stepped back. His palms glowed again—he was about to jump at the raging hound.

  Harold’s shoulders and face drooped into a momentary fuck it sigh, but he righted himself. The next shot hit the hellhound between the eyes—and not more than six inches from Penny’s head.

  It dropped her, then fell onto its side with a big, squishy thud.

  Vivicus slapped at the hole in his face. “Who da fucts arse you?” he squeaked through his re-aligning jaw. “You things I woult come here and not be prepared for a headshot?” The squeaks shifted into clicks, and then his normal baritone. “I’m smart!”

  Harold trained the gun on him again. “Leave!” he yelled.

  Vivicus pinched the bridge of his healing nose. “Philadelphia Simone Parrish, by order of the Judicial High Commander of the Mundus Imperium, I hereby place—”

  “This is not your world!” I shrieked. I’d had it with the monsters. I’d had it with the stink of death, both human and hellhound. And I’d had it with obnoxious men and their beliefs that I was some type of demon.

  Leif reached for Vivicus’s arm, but his boss wiggled in a weird, impossible way, and twisted out of Leif’s grasp.

  Leif backed off. “Let me handle this.”

  Vivicus jabbed a finger at Leif. “You’re compromised.” He slapped at his broken helmet and it peeled off his head haltingly, with sparks and small grinding noises. “You Dracae are too emotional.”

  Harold’s mouth rounded. Marcus blinked. But Addy just stood rigid and staring at Vivicus.

  Nax, next to Marcus, didn’t respond. He slowly backed against the bus and slid down its side.

  He was not okay. Not by a long shot.

  I stepped toward the men but Vivicus held up his hand. “Killing you would save this world a lot of pain.”

  “Fuck you.” I had to get past Vivicus and to Nax.

  “Philadelphia Simone Parrish,” Vivicus droned.

  Nax twitched.

  “Leif!” I pointed at Nax. Please help him, I thought. Please.

  Leif turned on his heels, but Vivicus’s back-up dancer flung her super-suited ass between him and the men. “Get out of my way, Penny,” Leif growled.

  Harold lowered his weapon and leaned down to check Nax’s pulse. He looked up.

  “Burner venom,” Leif said.

  Vivicus inhaled. “Philadelphia Simone Parrish!” he yelled. “By order of the Judicial High Commander of the Mundus Imperium, you are under arrest!”

  “Shit!” Harold holstered his weapon and laid Nax on his side.

  Vivicus ran at me. Two steps and he grabbed for my sword hand.

  I slashed—Stab slashed, and I held on for dear life. My foot moved and we dodged to the side.

  I smacked Vivicus on the back of the head with the bottom of Stab’s hilt.

  He whipped around. “I’m going to kill you this time!” he yelled. “Me! I’m going to make sure that—”

  I had no idea Leif’s armor carried enough onboard power to function for the amount of time it took to walk down the bus steps and the six strides to where Vivicus ranted. Nor did I know that it had true exoskeleton capacity, and that it could, on its own, walk a wounded soldier off a battlefield.

  Walk a wounded soldier or a little old lady who relied on a wheelchair.

  Rostislav the gnome slammed against Vivicus’s face with what looked like the last of the suit’s onboard power.

  And Vivicus the Seraphim boss slammed his elbow into Mrs. K’s helmeted head.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Under the bright morning Colorado sun, Vivicus threw Mrs. K the full ten feet into the windows of the bus. She hit hard and slid down only a foot or two from the seizing Nax.

  Leif snatched Vivicus around the neck and tossed him toward the dead hellhound. Harold moved between the fallen. And Addy…

  No, Daniel. The future-seer inhabiting the body next to me was a Fate named Daniel, and Daniel’s seer was the one that spread out over our little corner of Hell.

  Death stalked everyone here. Death came as a shadow, and death danced across the spaces between different times. My death. Leif’s death. Mrs. K and Nax and the Fates.

  Death.

  Alt-me held out Stab under that hot summer moon. She shifted her weight, and she took up a fight stance. She waited inside the streaks of white thrown by the headlight beams.

  Stab, it seemed, was an antenna. A powerful one with its own processing capacity, and one that had been programmed with a mission, but she wasn’t the main stack. She wasn’t the Dragonslayer.

  Numbers came down from above, and mathematics Alt-me did not understand. If she had stayed in school, she might have been on the new-space team as one of the scientists working to unravel a time-traveling technology that created, built, and rebuilt itself. She might have seen the scientific truth of the magic she wielded.

  But she was a dropout, and ultimately a coward. She didn’t want to die slowly fighting for every scrap of food and connection she could find in her burned-up, transformed world. She wanted a quick and final death, one that transferred what little hope her home still conjured to a place where that hope might do some good. A place where, if they figured out what needed figuring, might actually save everyone.

  Every human. Every buffalo, beetle, and ant—and, because Stab had long whispered that not all the invaders wanted what befell humanity, every dragon. Every hellhound. Everyone and everything.
>
  Trinzi-Bower cage activated, the voice said via Stab.

  “Copy that,” said Alt-me.

  Vehicle doors opened.

  “Ismene,” Alt-me said.

  “Aye, bestie,” the Burner said from the shadows. She was chaos unfettered, and had managed to steal Seraphim armor. The Judicial High Commander would not see, nor would his seers read, her presence.

  “Swear to me that you will get Stab across,” Alt-me said. Stab would do the rest on the other side. Alt-me didn’t know the specifics, nor did they matter. Stab would build the receiver on the other side when she had access to the tech she needed to do so. It might be immediately after the Incursion opened. It might be forty years into their future. But Stab had a mission, and she would not be deterred.

  Entering fold configuration, said the voice.

  Alt-me had a name for the voice in the gray.

  “Copy that, Dragonslayer,” Alt-me said.

  “I will,” the Burner said. “I promise.”

  “Thank you,” Alt-me said.

  Coordinates locked. Hold the connection, Del, said the Dragonslayer.

  “I’m trying,” said Alt-me.

  Six.

  Five.

  Ismene receded into the shadows as the man approached. They had expected Vivicus, since he’d long dogged them across the continent. But Vivicus didn’t have the seers needed to read around Stab’s ability to hide herself, or Ismene’s Burner chaos.

  Only one Fate on Earth had that power.

  Four.

  He stood in front of her now, with his bald head and his old, retraced Celtic tattoos. He wore a Seraphim suit but no armor on his average-built frame, and his suit manifested the insignia of the Judicial High Commander over his left breastbone.

  “Give me my sword,” he said.

  “No,” responded Alt-me.

  Three.

  I knew this man. “How is this possible?” I breathed. “How can you be there?” How could he be the Judicial High Commander in a version of the world ruled by emperors?

  “Philadelphia Simone Parrish, how did you convince my sword to hide you?” His past-, present-, and future-seers blossomed from his slight-yet-strong body as if he’d trained Cerberus, the one, true, three-headed hellhound, to do his bidding.