by M. R. Forbes
“What about me?” she asked him.
“Since you’re here, I’m going to use you,” Shurrath said. “And then if you survive, I’ll try killing you again. Does that frighten you?”
Grace shook her head. “No. I won’t feed your hunger.”
“You will. One way or another.”
The guards reached the stage. She had to make a decision. Try to fight her way out and escape or stay to see what was going to happen next. Shurrath said she might get her chance with her father sooner than she thought.
Was he coming here?
The guards started coming toward her. She looked at Sophia, face-down beside her, blood draining onto the floor near her feet. She hadn’t intended to get the woman killed. But she had spent the last ten years trying to catch up to her father. If he was coming here…this was an opportunity she couldn’t pass up.
She kept her hands still. When the time came, she would dislocate her thumbs to slip her hands out of the ties. For now, she would remain a prisoner. The guards flanked her, keeping her covered. Shurrath didn’t try to stand. Grace wasn’t sure he even could in that body.
“Have you ever seen this film, Grace?” Shurrath asked.
Grace turned her head to see the screen. It looked like a western.
“Unforgiven,” Shurrath said. “A remake. Or so your father understood it. Did you know I have all of his memories in my head? Everything from the time he was a child, including the nights he spent with your mother, and the day you were born. In some ways, you’re like a daughter to me.” He paused. “Cyrus can’t hold all of my memories. The human mind is too frail.”
Grace looked back at Shurrath. “Cyrus was a good man before you corrupted him. You’re a shitty father.”
Shurrath laughed. “It never did interest me. The way humans procreate is so primitive. And your offspring, so unintelligent.” He turned his head, looking at the door. It opened again, letting some of the light in from outside. A man in a dirty denim jacket and torn jeans entered.
“Señor August,” the man said. “We have the package.”
“Bring it in.” The voice had changed slightly, enough that Grace knew August was back in control of his words. She doubted Shurrath had gone far. He wanted to witness the proceedings.
The man whistled. The door opened again. Someone held it while two more men led someone into the sphere.
Grace’s jaw tensed when she saw him. “Isaac?”
Isaac looked up at the sound of his name, finding Grace at the front of the room. His face was bruised, his left eye blackened. His clothes were dirty and torn. His hands were cuffed behind his back.
“I thought I told you not to hurt him,” August said.
“Perdone Señor,” the man said. “He tried to escape. He killed two of my men before we caught him again. The others, they were rightfully angry.”
“It’s a shame he didn’t get you too. Bring him to stand with the other one.”
“Si, Señor,” the man said. The three militia members led Isaac to the stage, putting him up beside Grace.
“You?” Isaac said, glaring at her from the corner of his eye.
“The khoron is dead,” she whispered. “I’m not under Shurrath’s control. I’m sorry, Isaac.”
His expression softened. “This isn’t a trick?”
“I wish it were. We might have better odds.”
Isaac smirked slightly. “Do you know about Sheriff Duke?”
“He saved my life after the shootout in Sanose.”
“Stop talking!” August snapped.
“Or what?” Grace asked. “You’ll kill us? No. Shurrath doesn’t want that.”
“I can still make you hurt, girl,” August said.
“What are we waiting for?” Isaac asked.
“Someone is coming to collect you,” August replied. “Then you’ll be off my hands, and I will be rewarded for my loyalty.”
“Do you know who’s coming?” Isaac whispered to Grace.
Grace nodded, her heart beginning to pound. She had suspected, but August had confirmed it.
“Yes. My father.”
Chapter 39
“Major Salk is coming here?”
Isaac’s eyes locked on Grace. He hadn’t gotten a good look at her in Sanose, only a distant view through the sight of his sniper rifle, and then a quick, up close and personal view of her in blurry motion as she beat the shit out of him with khoron-enhanced reflexes and strength.
Somehow, she had wound up with Hayden. Somehow, the khoron was out of her. Somehow, she had ended up here, with him. Same place. Same time.
It seemed so unlikely, and yet here it was. Both prisoners of Shurrath. Waiting for her father to come and take them to the Relyeh ancient. He knew what fate awaited him.
What would Shurrath do to her?
“I think so,” Grace replied. “It’s good to see you, Sergeant. It’s been a long time.”
That was an understatement. If he didn’t count when she was under the khoron’s influence, it had been more than two hundred years. “You’ve grown up since the last time.”
“More than I’ve wanted to, in some ways.”
One of the militia came up behind Isaac, hitting him in the back of the leg with the butt of his rifle and bringing Isaac to his knees. Isaac glanced sideways at the corpse of a woman on the ground beside him, his stomach clenching. He felt the moisture of her blood soaking into his pants.
“Senor August told you to be silent!” the man screamed.
“That’s enough,” August said. “If you harm the merchandise, I will personally strip your flesh from your body and watch you eat it.”
The man backed away. Isaac didn’t need to be a Relyeh to sense his fear.
August laughed. “Mmmm. Better than chocolate.”
Isaac turned his head to look back at the militant. “I’m going to kill you before he does.”
He hadn’t expected the checkpoint leading into the city. And he hadn’t expected it to be under Shurrath’s control. The guards had taken him prisoner and locked him in a cell inside the windowless tower. Then they had radioed back here, informing the fat man they called Senor August of the lone rider they captured. Minutes later, August ordered them to bring him in and to keep constant watch over him. When they had entered the cell to feed him, he had grabbed the guard and slammed his head into the bars hard enough to knock him out, taking his gun and shooting two more before he was overwhelmed.
The beating had been painful, but not severe.
And it was worth it.
Of course, the result was that he was back under Shurrath’s control. All of his efforts to escape were for nothing. And Shurrath wasn’t taking chances that he might get away again. He was sending Cyrus for both him and Grace.
It was a reunion he wasn’t looking forward to.
Isaac regained his feet. The minutes passed. August went back to watching the movie playing behind them, picking at the food on the table beside him while everyone else remained in place. The guards watching, Isaac and Grace bound and waiting.
The movie ended, the projector going dark. August started to snore, having fallen asleep. Isaac and Grace remained silent. Waiting.
The door creaked as it opened, just enough for someone to slip through. The visitor was wearing dark clothes with a collar lifted high and a hood pulled low, cloaking his face. He walked purposefully from the door to the stage, climbing the steps and coming toward Isaac and Grace.
“Cyrus, is that you?” August said, suddenly awake again.
The man didn’t respond. He continued walking until he was directly in front of the prisoners. Only then did he lift his head and lower the hood.
“Dad,” Grace said, tears springing to her eyes.
“Grace,” he replied coldly. His attention shifted to Isaac. “Sergeant Pine.”
“Major Salk.”
Isaac’s heart pounded in his chest. It was the first time in two hundred years he was face-to-face with the man who’d murdered
his son. He wanted nothing more than to wrap his hands around Cyrus’ neck and squeeze until his eyes exploded from his face. He clenched his bound hands into fists, muscles tense.
“You three,” Cyrus said. “There’s a car waiting outside. Help me load them into it. I’m taking them back to Shurrath.”
“Yes, sir,” the militants said.
Isaac heard a crack beside him, and Grace grunted softly. By the time both he and Cyrus looked, she had her left hand out of her cuff and was halfway to punching her father in the face.
Isaac took that as his signal, throwing himself at the closest guard and using his weight to shove the man back. He heard the sound of Grace’s fist hitting something behind him, and when he glanced back he saw Cyrus had caught the blow.
“Grace, wait,” Cyrus said.
Without warning, Cyrus vanished, replaced by a jet black humanoid form whose surface looked like millions of tiny scales.
“What the fuck?” he said.
Grace stopped her attack instantly, staring in shock at the figure. Everyone else in the room was doing the same.
“You aren’t my father,” she said.
The humanoid reached to a belt on its hip, grabbing a microspear and putting it into Grace’s captured hand before letting it go.
“No. Sorry, Grace. No time to explain. You were supposed to let me take you into custody. We have to get out of here.” He turned on the closest guard, grabbing him with his other hand and throwing him easily from the stage.
“Sheriff Duke?” Isaac said, matching the voice with the strength.
“Pozz,” Hayden replied. He grabbed the middle of Isaac’s cuffs in both hands and pulled, breaking the chains while Grace stabbed the militant behind her.
“Sheriff!” August roared. “No!”
The last guard was raising his rifle to fire. Isaac rounded on him, grabbing his weapon and overpowering him—returning the blow the militant had delivered earlier—and striking him in the face with his own gun. He yanked it from the man’s hands, hitting him again and knocking him to the floor.
August was trying to get out of his seat, struggling against his own bulk.
“Come on,” Hayden said. “We have to move. Now!”
“Sheriff Duke,” August growled. Only it wasn’t August anymore. “Sheriff Duke, don’t be too hasty,” Shurrath said.
All three of them froze, turning to face August. The fat man had a smile on his face, and he settled back into the recliner.
“Don’t be too hasty,” Shurrath repeated. “We should talk.”
“We’ve got nothing to talk about,” Hayden replied.
“No? What about Haven?”
“What about Haven?”
“Sheriff,” Grace said. “We need to go.”
“Ask Grace. She’ll tell you. Haven is gone. Retribution for your interference.”
Hayden’s featureless head turned toward Grace. “Is that true?”
She nodded. “Sheriff, he’s using a goliath.”
“Lavega is next,” Shurrath said. “And I’ve added some uluth to the mix so the people can’t hide from me again.” He laughed. “Every last one of them is going to die, Sheriff. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”
Hayden’s face tensed.
“Sheriff, he’s trying to feed off you,” Grace said. “Don’t fall for it.”
“He’s not feeding,” Isaac said. “He’s stalling.”
The main door opened again. A second, hidden door appeared on the opposite side of the sphere. A dozen militants poured in from both entrances, aiming their assortment of guns toward the trio on stage.
“I can do both at the same time,” Shurrath said, still laughing. “Delicious.”
Chapter 40
“Uh, Sheriff,” Isaac said, standing beside Hayden as the militants entered the sphere. “I’m guessing this wasn’t the plan?”
“Not exactly,” Hayden replied. “We’ll have to improvise.”
“I don’t see any guns on that armor.”
“It’s not armor. And no. No guns.”
“There are twelve of them and only three of us.”
“Four,” Hayden corrected.
“What?” Isaac said.
The building shook suddenly, the movie screen shredding as debris from the back wall blew through it, sending a cloud of obscuring dust and smoke past Isaac, Hayden and Grace. Someone moved through the wreckage, coming up between Hayden and Isaac. He fired the rifle he was carrying at the group of militants on the right, sending them rushing for cover. They dove behind the theater’s seats while rounds tore into their ranks.
The other guards returned fire into the smokescreen. Isaac grabbed Grace and threw her to the ground, watching as a web of blue energy enveloped Hayden, stopping the slugs that might have killed him.
“Stop!” Shurrath roared. “Stop shooting. I need him alive!”
“This way!” the man with Hayden said. “Out the back. Hahaha. Haha.”
“Max?” Isaac said, eying the man before scrambling to his feet and pulling Grace up by the arm.
“Wait!” Grace said. She pulled herself free of Isaac, pausing beside the dead woman and grabbing her pack, bow, and quiver.
“Shurrath, I’m coming for you, you son of a bitch,” Hayden said. “And you never know who I might be.”
Isaac watched as Hayden suddenly morphed into Cyrus Salk, then Dutch, and then a woman he didn’t know before returning to his base self.
“And I’m coming for your family, Sheriff Duke,” Shurrath replied. “Today, Lavega. Tomorrow, Sanisco. I’ll see you soon.”
Hayden’s hand dropped to his side, reaching for a revolver that wasn’t there. He grabbed a microspear instead, jumping from the stage and rushing toward August.
Max pivoted to shoot at the guards who rose to stop Hayden. He looked back at Isaac. “The car is waiting in the back. Get it ready for us. We’ll meet you there.”
Isaac didn’t hesitate, grabbing Grace’s hand and pulling her toward the hole in the rear of the theater. They stumbled through the damaged stone to the outside. Isaac spotted the car right away. It was Jesse’s modbox from Walton.
They ran toward it. The explosion and noise had gotten the attention of the other militants in the city, and Isaac could hear them shouting. A few ran toward the scene. If they didn’t hurry, they would be cut off before they could escape. Why had Hayden charged August instead of retreating?
Isaac and Grace made it to the car.
“Take this and get in, I’ll hold them off,” Grace said, handing him a gun and preparing her bow. She winced as she nocked an arrow and pulled it back.
“Forget it,” Isaac said. “You drive. I’ll handle them.”
“There’s no time to argue,” Grace replied. “Get in the car.”
Isaac opened his mouth to argue again, freezing as a new target came around the side of the sphere. He was dressed in black, a dark hooded poncho over his head and a bow strapped across his back. He held a pair of microspears in his hands.
“Grace,” Isaac said, his entire body starting to shake with sudden fury.
Grace looked in the direction of the newcomer and then swung her bow in his direction. “Dad!” she shouted. “Stop!”
Cyrus barely hesitated, flicking one of the spears from his hand and sending it hurtling toward his daughter. Grace swung the bow down, deflecting the weapon with the end of it.
“Dad, we don’t have to do this,” she said.
“I’m afraid we do,” Cyrus replied. “You’ve always known that.”
“I’m going to kill you,” Grace said. Not as a threat. As a sad truth my promise to you.
“I hope so.”
Isaac shifted his gun, aiming it at Cyrus. “You killed my son, you fucking bastard.”
“Sergeant Pine,” Cyrus said flatly. “You know it wasn’t me.”
“You didn’t stop it.”
“No. I couldn’t. I’m sorry.”
“You will be.”
Isa
ac began squeezing the trigger. He didn’t get the chance to shoot. The second microspear came at him, and he barely swung out of the way as it flashed past. By the time he recovered, Grace was running away from the car, Cyrus following.
“Shit,” Isaac said, torn between his desire to help her and maintain their getaway. He eyed them for a few more seconds as they vanished behind a building. This was bad. Really bad.
He ducked low as bullets started pinging against the steel plates lining the modbox, barely avoiding getting shot as he headed for the rear of the vehicle. Apparently, the rest of August’s militia hadn’t gotten the order not to kill him. He found a target approaching from the side, raising the gun and squeezing off a few rounds, knocking the man down.
“Ike!” Hayden said, jumping through the hole and rushing the car, with Max right behind him. The Intellect fired on the approaching militants, cutting down three of them before he and Hayden made it to Isaac’s side. “Where the hell is Grace?”
“Cyrus Salk is here,” Isaac replied. “She led him away. Only one of them is going to come back.”
“Damn it, we can’t wait here,” Hayden said. “August is dead, and Shurrath decided he doesn’t care as much about capturing you as he does about killing me.”
“A logical decision,” Max interjected. “Hahaha. Haha.”
“What does that mean for us?” Isaac asked.
“There are at least four hundred soldiers headed our way. Probably more.”
“That’s bad.”
“I need to grab my gear from inside the car,” Hayden said. “Cover me.”
Isaac nodded, popping up at the same time as Hayden and Max and shooting at the closest targets. Max laid down cover fire along the other attack vector, while Hayden reached into the car and grabbed his bandolier, belt and revolvers.
They all ducked back down while he strapped the equipment on and pulled the guns.
“We can’t leave Grace here,” Isaac said.
“I know,” Hayden replied. “Max, how long can we hold them?”
“Six minutes at most, Sheriff.”
“I’ll go get Grace. Ike, Max, give them a moving target.” Hayden looked at Isaac. “Just like in Salt Lake.”