by Dan Stout
Thomas grabbed my chin in his beefy hand and squeezed, forcing my lips into a pucker and bruising my jaw with fingers laced by gaudy rings.
“Shut your lying mouth,” he said. Rumbling. Almost ready to burst.
“Thomas!” Katie sidestepped, trying to get her brother’s attention. Thomas dropped his hand and stood back, responding to his sister’s command, even as he kept his focus on me.
Katie pulled her lips back and let out a snarl. “Thomas, wait. Once I’m elected I can do whatever I damn well want and the people will back me.” She turned to me. “You know why? Because the feds are screwing over every one of us. And I’ve got proof.”
Above us, the battle still raged on the roof. Sirens were approaching, though the street festival tents and crowds meant they’d be slow to arrive. I wondered if we’d finally met the requirements for Guyer’s ARC squad to roll out. A particularly heavy blow shook the building once more. The lights flickered, dimmed, and then died.
Marguiles shifted, tilting off-balance, and I tucked my legs into my chest, allowing my weight to drag us down. He pulled back, putting even more weight onto his back leg, and I kicked out with both feet, slamming my heels into the side of his knee and bending it in an unnatural direction. We tumbled to the ground, limbs tangled, as Marguiles writhed in pain.
Katie practically screamed at her brother. “Thomas, let’s go!”
The room was now lit only by the glow of the streetlights outside, and the other three were more silhouettes than people. My shoulders ached from being in Marguiles’s grip, but I rolled in the guard’s direction. When I bumped into him I threw a jab at his eyes. He pulled his hands up, and I grabbed my gun from his belt.
“No one move,” I said. I had to find a way to restrain them, then I could get the guy in the chair to safety. Then I could get to Jax.
The building shook again, sending chunks of plaster raining down from the ceiling. Thomas snarled and moved toward me. I pulled the trigger.
The hammer fell with a damp click that sent a chill down my bones. The water from the creature—it had gotten everywhere when I was inside of it, and I’d cut off its connection to the creature before it got out of my cartridges. I had time to pull the trigger twice more as Thomas crossed the room, resulting in another pair of empty clicks. He backhanded my weapon, and it almost fell from my grip. I managed to hold on, but it now pointed uselessly across the room.
Thomas hit me, and it felt like I fell through another level of the Paradise. He slammed me against the entertainment center as a crashing noise overhead told me that the battle had fallen down into a lower level yet again. A beefy hand snaked into my hair and pulled my head back, forcing me to look him in the eye.
“I don’t care if you got home movies.” His face next to mine, spittle flying as he spoke, his breath fresh. The kind of man who stopped for a breath mint between murders. “That candy in the alley was in the way. Like you’re in the way. We’re about to fix the world, and no whore or redback is gonna stop us.”
“Thomas.” It was Katie, standing in the darkness, speaking to her brother in a loud stage whisper, sounding like I suppose she had since they were children, attempting to calm her hot-headed twin. “He’s too high-profile. We need him alive.”
The building shook again, echoed by screams from outside. Whatever was happening, it was clearly drawing an audience. In the gloom I could see Thomas glance away, and I risked raising the forgotten revolver once more.
Click.
Thomas’s attention snapped back to me. He released my head and grabbed my gun arm by the wrist, pointing the muzzle at the ceiling, increasing the vise-like tension even as his grin widened and widened. I pulled the trigger again. White light erupted, accompanied by the painful, cannon-roar of gunfire in an enclosed space.
The muzzle flash was blinding in the darkness, burning an afterimage of the twins in their throne room, their bouncer still sprawled on the floor. Thomas dropped his hands, no doubt pressing thick palms to his ears as I ran toward what I hoped was the door.
I stumbled across the room, the floor rolling in the combined blindness and deafening ring of the gunshot. At one point someone brushed against me. I pushed away and swung the butt of my revolver. I didn’t connect but I did gain a little room. Confused and panicked, I pulled the trigger again. A second explosion of sound and light overwhelmed me, and doubled the intensity of the ringing in my ears. I stumbled further and found myself in the hallway. There was even less light there, and I picked a direction and ran blindly ahead. I had to regroup, and then figure the best way to find Jax, to hunt down Tenebrae.
I pushed through a doorway, and was thankful to have more light. The windows were illuminated by streetlamps and the lights on the twins’ temporary stage. I’d reached one of the lounges with fine leather furniture and brandy snifters—now rolling madly across the floor—when everything around me shook with the largest rumble yet.
The far side of the building collapsed, masonry tumbling down and away. The now-missing wall revealed a street full of light, a cloud of dust billowing out and sparkling in the streetlights and Titan’s Day decorations, spreading out over the rubble and debris scattered across the CaCuris’ stage. The crowd had pulled back, screaming and pointing, while flashing lights signaled approaching first responders. I pressed a hand to my temple. I couldn’t identify Talena anywhere in the fray. I couldn’t believe that I’d somehow put her in danger once again.
The crowd fell silent. I tried to follow their collective gaze, but they were pointing at something far overhead, on the roof. I’d have to walk onto the stage to see what it was, and I chose to stay in the safety of the shadows. A crunching sound from above, and then Tenebrae’s water creature landed on the stage with a rough grace. It was still imposing, but it was also leaking water. Two tentacle arms crossed its approximation of a chest, and they opened to reveal Mitri Tenebrae. He slid out of its grasp, the rubber-coated figure in his hands directing its motion. The water creature stood between us, leaving no way for me to reach Tenebrae without being crushed. He faced the crowd and waved, but there was something odd about him, almost transparent or watery, as if he’d picked up some of the traits of the water creature as well. He stretched the figurine, and behind him the water creature extended itself even higher.
“People of Titanshade!” he shouted. “Have I got some news for you!”
35
TENEBRAE RAISED AN ARM, THE other holding his puppet close to the chest. “The strike slowdowns are a lie! The manna flows like water, and it’s being relocated and kept away from you!”
The assembled crowd began to make angry noises. I didn’t let it bother me. What I was worried about was the destructive capability of the animated water creature, and making sure that Tenebrae didn’t slip out of our hands.
“I can prove it,” he said. “I have a full list of everyone who has communicated with the outpost, and what they—” Before the sorcerer could say more, a chunk of building hurled down from the roof, slamming into the watery being and cratering the stage on the other side of it. I craned my neck and spotted Paulus, dusty and blood-streaked, one arm propped around Ajax’s neck for support even as the building’s facade crumbled further beneath their feet. Even from that distance, I could tell she was seriously injured.
A predator’s roar echoed against the buildings of Titanshade. On the edges of the battle, I noticed a large white cat pacing the perimeter. It was Gellica’s transformed shape, but with all the witnesses in the crowd, I didn’t see how she could get involved. Tenebrae worked his totem and the water creature responded, lifted the broken masonry and hurled it back at the roof. Jax grabbed Paulus and they both disappeared from view, I could only hope to safety. Tenebrae’s monster began scooping and hurling debris, with no care for where it landed on the neighboring buildings, as the sorcerer himself backed in my direction.
Waiting, I let him take one more st
ep into the shadows, then I dove. I hit Tenebrae around the waist, feeling his shirt react, but not with the same iron resilience it had before I’d drained its connection on the roof. I tried to wrestle him down, tried to knock the water balloon from his hand. But he was stronger and I was too physically exhausted to force him to the ground. He began to turn, and pushed my arm away, keeping his totem out of my grasp. But not the cobweb threads of manna. I clenched my fist and the strange lines flowed through me.
I immediately felt the chill grip my body, sliding under my skin and through my blood. The pressure was there as well, all sensations I now recognized as like being underwater. But there was also the other element, the hunger that grew stronger the more I ate. The buzzing song urged me on, demanded I consume, to take more of the magical connection.
As I pulled in the manna threads, the cold spread up my arm. I dragged in the power it held, but still hungry, I grabbed for more threads. The water creature’s line was deep and rich. Tenebrae had woven a strong bond, and the threads were still fat from when I’d pumped energy into them earlier. I sucked that in as well. The pressure increased, more than it ever had before. I was full of the numbing cold. Manna rippled through my senses, overlapping my sight and hearing as the hunger grew ever more intense.
I was aware of Tenebrae beside me, struggling to escape. He dropped the totem, and the water simulacrum dispersed all at once, its remaining bulk breaking loose, pouring down the CaCuris’ stage and spilling out over the streets with the force of a river. It struck the crowd of onlookers, a tidal wave rushing across the cobblestones, knocking the people to the ground, flushing them and the festival debris into the gutter. I paid it no mind. The hunger was overwhelming, and I wanted nothing more than to wrap my hand in more tasty cobwebs.
I fought for focus, but it seemed like there was no correct path ahead. I felt like I could be dragged down into the dark and cold. I could feel the cobwebs, could hear the whispered singing in the dark, but I had no idea what to do with any of it. I felt as useless and frozen as a statue.
My fists clenched, and I straightened. The clay sculpture in his apartment—it transmitted back to him, in some way. Even if he had turned off further modifications, there must have been some connection, otherwise he’d have shown the evidence of the accident that had started his downward spiral years ago.
I forced my half-frozen legs to move, but the lack of sensation, even the lack of emotion, meant that I barely budged. Desperate to find energy, I reminded myself that though the water creature’s threads were gone, Tenebrae’s link to his simulacra was thick with years of manna treatments. I thought of all the potential cobwebs with delicious, fat juicy spiders hidden away, and suddenly felt myself crouch and spring forward with strength I hadn’t dreamed I possessed. Landing on Tenebrae, I snatched at the thread linking him to the clay statue. The roar of the song in my ears urged me to feed, but instead I pushed out. With a rush, the pent-up energy flowed out, leaving me as empty and exhausted as my worst regret-filled morning purge after a long night of drinking. The cold stripped away and I was suddenly coated in sweat, as the cobweb threads pumped and pulsed like living worms that burrowed into the stumps of my missing fingers. Tenebrae screamed and threw me aside. I found myself on my knees, gulping lungfuls of air as warmth flowed back into my extremities.
Tenebrae stood in the middle of the stage, one hand held at head height, staring as his flesh changed its tone and texture, color draining, becoming more and more gray, until it matched the clay of the sculpture back at the hotel. Horrified and transfixed, he touched the fingers of his right hand with those of his left. The digits pressed against each other, then into each other.
Tenebrae blinked, a slow process that mimicked two wet slabs of clay dragging across one another.
“Make it stop,” he pleaded, not certain who to turn to. His voice gurgled, as if his lungs were congested with mucus. Or clay. “Please, make it stop!”
He was defeated. The patrol and the ARC would take him into custody, and we’d learn what had driven him to this madness in the first place. I reached for the cobwebs, trying to turn back the process, whispering to the threads, calming them. I never learned if it would have saved him.
Three stories above, Paulus made a darting motion, and a metal pipe shot out from the construction debris. Like the chunk of building masonry she’d thrown before, this one hurtled toward the stage. But now, with no creature to protect him, it pierced Tenebrae’s abdomen, cutting through him like a straw through melon. He continued to transform, regressing into clay, the process slowing and stopping as his body died, and the manna link was no longer active. I suspected that he’d always have the shocked and terrified expression on his face, or at least until someone decided what to do with a corpse made out of clay. Maybe they’d wait till he dried out and break him into pieces to scatter on the Mount. More likely they’d send him back to Telescribe Communications in the big steamer trunk, a silent warning to the rest of the AFS not to step in Titanshade’s affairs.
I ignored Tenebrae’s corpse and faced the dark hole of the Paradise Parlor once again. I still had to bring in the man who’d killed Jane. If I didn’t move now, the fire department would close the scene for safety’s sake. I pushed away from the stage, turned my back on the crowd and the cameras, and returned to the CaCuris’ den.
* * *
Smoke roiled down the hall. A fire had started, perhaps in the kitchen, perhaps in the damaged wiring.
I found them in their throne room, the twins and their henchman, Marguiles. Katie sat on the elaborate chair, the ceremonial knife-belts fanned out across its back, looking like the outlines of wings. Their Gillmyn captive had been dumped on the floor, West’s breathing shallow as she rested one foot on his back. Thomas sat on the billiard table, nursing an injury to his arm that I wasn’t sure where he’d picked up. Then it dawned on me—the final shot I’d fired blindly. I’d managed to hit the bastard after all.
The three of them faced me as I entered.
“It’s all over,” I said. “There’s an army of press and cops outside. Come along quietly.”
“Are we under arrest?” Katie said. “What for? Letting you destroy our building?”
I was exhausted, and we were all wounded in one way or another. Most people give up at that point, but I thought it better to be safe than sorry. “You’re under arrest for murder,” I said to Thomas. “You two,” I pointed at Katie and Marguiles, “I don’t have enough to book you on.” It was a lie, but I hoped it would encourage the two of them to convince Thomas to comply.
Thomas’s voice was thick. “Go to Hells.”
“You’re shot, there’s a full complement of officers outside the building, and the news crews are filming everything. It’s over.”
Katie said, “Don’t listen to him.” But it was a whisper, more to herself than the blood-hungry Thomas. “We have to protect each other.”
I couldn’t resist one more comment. It may have been too much, but life was full of possibilities. That’s what made it interesting.
“That’s right, Thomas. Just like you protected your dear brother Roger.”
Maybe it was my insults, or the invocation of his childhood crimes. Maybe it was simply his desire to ignore his sister’s counsel. Whatever triggered Thomas’s anger, it was enough to push him over the edge. He surged forward as more debris fell from the far wall, his steps matched by the rush of an explosion. Flames licked around the interior shutters as Thomas closed in on me, while I struggled to stay on my feet.
Then Katie was between us. Thomas attempted to stop, but his momentum pushed his sister into me. Katie’s elbow was near my ribcage, as if she’d held something between her and her brother. Past her, Thomas stared down, then swayed slightly, revealing his sister’s hand on the hilt of a thick-bladed ceremonial dagger. One of the pair that had rested across the chair at the center of the room.
Blinking in
confusion, Thomas stared at the dagger, then back at his sister. His eyes showed stark shock at this betrayal of the natural order. Katie’s were a swirl of sorrow and anger. The kind of look you might give a beloved pet who’d contracted rabies.
His mouth opened slightly. Katie put one hand on his lips and shook her head. The tears in her eyes were held in check, present but not falling. Then she twisted the blade, turning it in the wound and spiraling the point even deeper into her brother’s body.
Thomas let out a long sigh as Katie released the knife, and I stepped away.
Katie’s other hand still rested on her brother’s pouting lip, silencing his cries. They held each other’s gaze as a series of crashes and screams from the crowd indicated that more of the building had collapsed. Then she withdrew her touch, and Thomas teetered, fell to his knees, and slumped to the floor.
I stared at the dead man a long moment before I realized that Katie’s eyes were on me. She was breathing fast, hands shaking as she absently wiped blood across her clothes. I wasn’t sure if she looked horrified or thrilled at the death of the mad dog she’d controlled and sheltered for decades.
“I had to do it,” she said. “He was going to kill you.” She looked at her bodyguard and straightened her blouse. “Isn’t that right?”
The big man struggled to find his voice, and Katie’s command struck like a whip crack. “Marguiles!”
Marguiles nodded. His lips stuck together, but he eventually rasped out: “Yeah.”
She leaned closer to me, speaking through clenched teeth. “I saved your life.”
Somewhere down the hall, another section of the building toppled to the ground.
“We need to get out of here.” Katie snapped her fingers at Marguiles, squaring her shoulders and blocking as much of her henchman’s view of her brother as possible. “Get someone on the radio and rally the press outside.” When Marguiles didn’t respond, she snapped, “We built that stage, we’re damn well going to use it.”