Dark Gate Angels Complete Series Omnibus

by Ramy Vance

  Grok looked over her shoulder at the HQ soldiers who were engaging with the Dark One’s forces. The air was heating up from plasma blasts. When Grok turned back to Anabelle, she was smiling. She leaned over, almost apelike, and began attacking, her arms and legs dragging and then suddenly speeding up. There was no rhythm to her attacks. She looked like a tornado hell-bent on tearing Anabelle apart.

  Anabelle did her best to keep up, but the onslaught was unrelenting. She held her hands to her chest, sucked in a deep breath, and exhaled her manna in a burst of flames. Grok stumbled backward and Anabelle surged forward, cracking her palm into Grok’s nose.

  Grok stepped back, holding their hand to her nose as a trickle of blood poured out. “Hm,” she muttered. “So, you can fight.”

  It seemed like HQ was beating back the orcs, who were outnumbered. But the only thing Anabelle could see were those black eyes in front of her.

  Grok took a step toward Anabelle, hunched over like something primordial. Anabelle couldn’t let herself get psyched out. Typical orc practice. Mind games. That’s all it was. “Glad to see you can talk,” Anabelle countered. “Looks like you guys are losing. I’d focus more on that than your trash talking.”

  Grok laughed, her black eyes dancing. She gave a toothy grin before laughing, a short, disjointed sound, a sound of one who does not know the meaning of laughter. “I don’t care,” Grok growled. “I’m gonna kill you.”

  Anabelle’s heart stopped at those words. It had not been the first time she’d been threatened, and it was not even close to the most creative. But there was something in that voice… She realized Grok didn’t care. Grok meant what she was saying wholeheartedly. That was a dangerous thing.

  Roy raced toward the Dark Gate’s energy signature as his squad followed closely on foot. They were less than a mile from where the Gate was supposed to open. The random, wandering folk in the desert didn’t seem to mind the soldiers invading their sandy paradise.

  Up ahead, where Roy was headed, was a giant wooden effigy of a man. It stood nearly as high as the sun, and it was on fire. The heat from the statue could be felt from as far away as Roy was.

  A crowd stood in a circle around the effigy. They were dancing, swaying back and forth, some holding hands. As Roy looked around, he could see art installations and trailers. Folks walked about or stood in groups wearing bizarre amalgamations of steampunk clothes, or they were naked save a face mask to protect them from the stinging sands.

  Roy couldn’t help but gawk at the naked butts and breasts he passed. “This might be my kind of party,” he muttered as he forced himself to focus on the task at hand.

  There was a sudden influx of sand, and the heat from the fire went out of the air, replaced by a stale sort of static. Roy saw the Dark Gate open at the base of the burning effigy.

  Contrary to what he thought, folk did notice what was happening. Nearly as soon as the Gate opened, people began screaming and running from what poured out. Orcs by the dozen, a force slightly larger than the one Roy commanded, walked through the portal between worlds.

  A few naked men and women walked out of a trailer not too far from where Roy chose to set down to scope out the situation. Their trailer was covered with ancient American flags worn down by dust and political bumper stickers that no longer seemed to carry any meaning. These nude folks were covered in sand within seconds, looking not that different than their wooden effigy. Then they went into their trailer, only to return brandishing firearms.

  One of the women—who had a tattoo of an orange on her ass and a crucified gator between her breasts—spat and cocked her shotgun. “Looks like we got some of them fantastical creatures fucking with our trip.”

  A naked man with long arms, an even longer gray beard from which peered two eyes as black as the cavernous expanse of space, and perhaps even longer pubic hair, slung a rifle over his shoulders before shotgunning a beer. “Goddamn it, I was just coming up. This is gonna be a fucked trip, sisters and brothers. A fucked trip indeed.”

  The woman, whose name was Star Breeze, and the man, who had been christened Sugar Owl upon his baptism in a swamp somewhere in the Everglades during the summer of ’95, turned to look at the dragon mech sitting at the side of their trailer. The rest of their clan, who had now come forth from their trailer, stared at the mech as well, somewhat confused, their drug-addled minds forming their own conclusions about the importance of this mechanized beast.

  Star Breeze walked over to the mech and knocked on the cockpit. Roy opened it and poked his head out as his squad gathered around him. “Hey, you meaning to start some shit with those fantasy critters over there?”

  Roy couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Either these were some of the bravest folk he’d ever laid eyes on or the most fucked up. “From where I’m standing, they’re the ones who are starting shit.”

  Sugar Owl came over to stand next to Star Breeze. Somehow he’d managed to roll two joints in the space of a few seconds and handed one to Star Breeze and one to Roy. “Brother, I believe I’ve seen you in a vision once or twice. You rode in here while me and my co-pilot through this life were trying to figure out the righteous and proper path. I believe you led us there. Now, I’m not a hundred percent that you’re actually real, but either those things out there are what we’ve been seeing on the news or they’re the demons of my heart taken flesh. All that is to say, if you’re meaning to bring a killing upon those things, we’re gonna be there with you. And it looks as if you mean to lay a killing on something.”

  These people were definitely high, but they had guns, and they were clearly ready to use them. Also, Roy liked the phrase “lay a killing.” It appealed to him. “Yeah, I am meaning to lay a killing. Don’t know about civvies doing it, but you look to have your own opinion about gun laws,” he said. “If it ain’t human, shoot it. Not something you should continue after this, mind you. But for today, if it don’t bleed red, it should be dead.”

  Roy slid back into his mech, closed the cockpit, and headed toward the Gate. Before he could get too far, though, Sugar Owl and Star Breeze jumped on top of his mech, holding on tight. On a different day, Roy would have explained how stupid the idea was, but today he was proud to see that some humans were ready to join the fight.

  The mech closed the distance to the Dark Gate fast enough. They were under the pyre of the effigy within seconds, surprising the orcs, who made a swift retreat behind the burning man’s legs, quickly taking up a more strategic position. The orcs began laying down suppressive fire.

  Sugar Owl and Star Breeze jumped off of the mech, taking cover behind it, popping out for a second or two to fire a few shots.

  There didn’t seem to be anything too difficult to deal with, so Roy was comfortable taking potshots. He figured he’d slowly move toward the Gate while picking off orcs. It would be simple enough, and he’d probably be back in time for a hefty supper and a stiff drink.

  The Dark Gate’s portal turned purple suddenly. Then there was a blast of fire, shooting out, taking the form of a hand. The hand was followed by a scaly arm, then another, revealing the brawny torso of a drake as it poked its horned head out of the portal.

  The drake was nearly full grown. Smaller than its pure dragon cousin, it was still a viable enemy. If it wasn’t contained, the drake could easily wipe out Roy’s team. He turned to the two hippies hiding behind him and shouted, “You two might want to get out of here. This isn’t going to be pretty.”

  Sugar Owl shook his head as Star Breeze replied, “We ain’t leaving until we lay a thick killing on those assholes.”

  “All right, but you can’t keep using me for cover.”

  Star Breeze looked around and nodded at a couple of dune buggies that had been abandoned by a group of tech-bros who had fled the scene. The dune buggies were ridiculously armored, the sort of thing a Mad Max enthusiast would make in their spare time if they had the budget of a Hollywood film. “We got this,” she said.

  The two hippies hoofed it to the dune
buggies and leapt in, turning over the engines and firing their guns.

  Roy could only shake his head. At least they were excited. Then he turned his attention to the drake, which was still trying to get itself settled in the new environment. Roy didn’t want to give it the chance. He hit his thrusters and sped toward the drake.

  It glanced up a moment before Roy collided with it. Even with the element of surprise, Roy hadn’t been fast enough to catch the drake off-guard. They might not have been as strong as dragons, but what drakes lacked in brawn, they made up for with viciousness and speed. Roy was about to find out what that looked like firsthand.

  Roy fired his Gatling gun, trying to clear some space. The drake was undeterred, though. It clamped down on Roy’s mech with its powerful jaws.

  Space.

  That was what Roy needed. The squad and two hippies were going to have to take care of the battle without him.

  Roy fired his thrusters, this time facing them away from the ground, sending himself flying through the air. The sudden retreat threw the drake off for a second, but it was in the air just as quickly.

  The drake had air superiority. Even with all the upgrades Roy had put into his mech, he still wouldn’t be able to compete with the sure grace and fluidity of the drake, but he could best it in a straight test of speed and attrition. Most drakes couldn’t breathe fire. That meant there was a good chance the overgrown lizard was going to have to catch Roy to do any damage.

  As long as the drake was away from the battlefield, it freed up Roy’s squad to do what they had to without worrying about a rampaging monster tearing them to shreds. They would be able to handle the orcs. And luckily, this was just a drake. They weren’t nearly as smart as dragons. Which gave Roy a stupid idea.

  Roy kicked more juice into his thrusters. He increased his speed nearly twofold and punched through the air. The drake followed suit. As Roy continued to increase speed, he began to loop back toward the Dark Gate.

  He was starting to think this was too easy.

  The mech and the alien reptile sped toward the Dark Gate, the drake gaining slowly, inch by inch. It didn’t matter. This was already in the bag. All he had to do was get to the Gate before the drake got to him.

  Right before Roy passed over the Gate, he turned in mid-air, launching an electric net at the drake. The net wrapped around its body, shocking it strongly enough to send the drake careening into the Dark Gate, breaking the thing apart as if it were a flimsy piece of driftwood.

  Roy hit the ground, his mech skidding across the sand, firing on the orcs he drifted past. Their numbers were already heavily depleted, and his squad was corralling them, preparing to finish them off.

  Suddenly, the drake surged forward, its body covered in electricity. “What the fuck?” Roy muttered. He’d never seen a drake with elemental abilities before, and just his luck, the element was what most of Roy’s weapons were based on. Wait, Roy thought. That couldn’t have been an accident.

  Roy monitored the fighting around him. They were winning too easily. The orcs were just bait. Fodder to keep Roy’s focus off of what was really happening. The drake had been sent for him and him alone.

  The electric drake moved even faster than before, its electrical charge firing as it coiled around Roy’s mech with a renewed ferocity. It bit into Roy’s cockpit as it pinned the mech down, tearing away the guns and cannons that were attached to the mech’s shoulder.

  Power began to fade as the drake drained the mech. Shit! Roy thought as he tried to back away. There wasn’t enough power to move. He was stuck.

  The drake tore at the mech’s cockpit, trying to get to what it must have thought was a delicious human.

  Roy watched as the power in the mech failed. He hit his comm, calling the attention of his squad. It was unlikely they had enough firepower to take out the drake, but he wasn’t going to have someone say at his funeral that he had been too proud to ask for help.

  The only sound Roy received on his comm was a gurgling screech. That was all right. He looked up at the drake, who was nearly done chewing its way through the cockpit and smiled as he drew his pistol.

  That was how things went. They happened fast, and you never knew which way it was going to turn out. He’d been a soldier for years. He knew this. All he could do now was wait for the drake to get close enough to accept his final offering of service to humanity.

  The drake tore the cockpit off. Roy managed to fire twice before the drake reached in and wrapped its claws around him. The drake slunk away from the cockpit as its body dumped volt after volt of electricity into Roy’s body.

  By now, Roy had been knocked out by the electricity. He woke up when he slammed to the ground. He screamed as he felt the drake’s teeth clamp around his stomach and pierce his flesh.

  Roy’s vision faded and his body twitched as it was wracked with pain, but he reached for his gun. At least he could get one more shot off while he stared the son of a bitch in the eye.

  Suddenly the drake’s body sagged.

  Sugar Owl and Star Breeze rammed their dune buggy into the side of the drake, shoving it to the side as they fired their shotguns and rifles.

  The drake screeched in pain, whipping around to attack the two hippies. But before the drake moved, a bolt of plasma ripped through the beast’s neck. Both hippies glanced at Roy, but he was still lying spread-eagled on the ground, bleeding out. Then they looked back.

  A head was receding into the shambles of the Dark Gate.

  Both Sugar Owl and Star Breeze went to Roy’s side, choosing to ignore what they had just seen.

  Roy stared up at the two hippies. He was barely holding onto consciousness. But the drake was dead. If he lived long enough to get an extraction, he’d worry about finding out the details of the battle.

  Abby blew through the last vrosk, and the skies were free. Now all she had to do was destroy the Dark Gate.

  The Gate was still on, the portal still glowing.

  Abby checked with Martin and confirmed that the two other gates had been closed. This was the last one that needed addressing. All and all, Abby felt like her first mission had gone off without a hitch. She landed and walked over to the Gate, her hands raised, ready to blast it to bits.

  A metallic tendril flew out of the Gate and wrapped around Abby’s wrist. It raised Abby into the air and then slammed her into the ground.

  As Abby tried to stand, she peered into the portal and saw a female drow not much older than her step out. The elf’s face was heavily burned, and she wore something like a HUD scanner on her left eye. Both of her eyes glowed white. But what really caught Abby’s eyes was the drow’s right arm. She did not have a hand. Instead, she had a mass of metal tentacles sprouting from her wrists that hung to the ground.

  Abby stumbled back to her feet. She raised her hand and fired.

  The plasma blast ripped through the Gate behind the drow with the metal tentacles. The Dark Gate’s portal faltered and cut off. The drow with the tentacles didn’t seem to care. She was still looking at Abby. Then she flicked her wrists, and the tentacles snapped together, twisting around each other, forming a blade.

  The woman darted forward, crashing into Abby, who was barely able to throw her arms up in time to block the attack. The two tumbled over each other until Abby activated her thrusters, launching up into the air as the drow relaxed her tentacles and sent them flying after Abby. The tentacles wrapped around her ankles.

  Abby turned in mid-air, slammed her hands together, forming a double hand cannon, and fired.

  The drow released Abby and dodged to the side before cracking her wrists like a whip, glaring at Abby, who was quietly floating.

  Abby didn’t know what to do. She had this crushing feeling that something wasn’t right. There was something about this drow that made Abby not want to fight, yet also made it impossible to take her eyes off her.

  “You’re a very beautiful, elegant creation,” the woman shouted. “As one to another, I can appreciate that.”

>   “Ain’t a creation,” Abby retorted. “Hundred percent human.”

  The drow laughed as she moved toward Abby. “Was once a human. As I was once an elf, but as you can see…” The drow held up her tentacled arm, the tentacles withdrawing to form a perfectly normal hand. “It hurts me to have to kill something so beautiful.”

  “I’m not a thing.”

  The drow shrugged as she flexed, her bicep bulging as her hand split open. The mass of tentacles dropped from the open skin, laying on the ground and slithering over each other. “We are all merely things.” She chuckled. “Things to be pulled out and used when they are thought necessary. Tools, at best.”

  There was something intensely sad about the drow’s voice. She sounded as if she believed her words.

  Abby floated down until her feet touched the ground. She took a step toward the drow. “I ain’t a tool. My name is Abby. I fight ‘cause I wanna. Not ‘cause someone’s making me.”

  Another step toward the drow. Abby raised her hand, extending it in a sign of peace. “What’s your name?”

  The drow hesitated, watching Abby closely. “Doesn’t matter. You don’t need the name of your end,” she growled.

  Abby wasn’t deterred. She moved closer, the nanobots rolling back on her face so that the drow could look her in the eyes. “Still, I’d like to know.”

  The drow didn’t answer for a moment, but she didn’t turn away or attack. “Persephone,” she finally said. “Like the human myth.”

  “Yeah, I know the one.”

  The two stood there looking at each other for what felt like forever. Abby wasn’t sure how long they could meet each other’s eyes without something happening. The creature stared at her arms with confusion before saying, “My hands; they made them.” Her voice trailed off as her face twitched, her eyes hardening. She jolted as if she’d received a shock, then she flew at Abby with renewed aggression.

  Abby threw her arms up as Persephone tackled her, the pair tumbling across the ground, Persephone’s tentacles slithered over Abby’s body, pinning her arms down, one limb wrapping around her throat, constricting her breathing, another holding her head down as Persephone’s eyes stared into hers. “Why aren’t you fighting back?” the drow growled.