Cyn

by Cari Silverwood

  She would climb back up using a meandering route and seek out the beaster she now hated with a depth she’d never thought she could reach.

  Drummer.

  * * * * *

  As a blobby-shaped Ghoul Lord sailed nearer, Avidex curled his tentacles into a protective pattern. The thoughts emanating from this one were fierce.

  Where were you? it asked.

  At the rear, in reserve. I could see there were enough to repel the humans.

  You should have been there. Many of us fell. Many of us.

  And here the thought-feel from Blobby became suspicious.

  Many of those who kept many brains were killed. You began this.

  I did but I never said to copy me.

  Yet it was your ideas that led to our deaths. At that the blobby one shucked several of its adopted brains, letting them plop from its body jelly to the ground.

  The one brain called Willow that I kept has served me well. It told me many brains was bad.

  Blobby one fell silent as he thought. Then what else does your smart brain say? Prove you are loyal to us.

  Avidex mused, then sent a side-thought at Willow, where Blobby could not intrude. Ideas? A strategy? This one will unleash wrath if I have nothing to add.

  Send in a skinsuit attack, now. They will not be likely to expect one so soon. It will disrupt them.

  Are you certain?

  Nothing in life is certain, but I wish to preserve our life.

  And not human life?

  She did not answer. This was suspicious, but then again, what else did he expect of this brain?

  Send in a skinsuit attack, he thought at Blobby. They will not expect this. I of course cannot participate as I have lost half of my genetic material already.

  The harrumph thought from Blobby would have been enough to make him quiver before he became more intelligent. Blobby wished to intimidate him? Avidex clicked his teeth together in a Ghoul Lord smile.

  Very well. We shall do this. Blobby swirled away.

  That was a close call, thought Willow.

  Yes. If you are wrong, expect retribution. If right, we may get that berth on a queen after all.

  A queen? He felt the quiver in Willow. Would that mean we would leave Earth?

  Yes.

  Fuck.

  Chapter 17

  “I’ve returned to duel and claim leadership,” she told Drummer as she strolled into the armory with her boots jingling and her hand on Willow’s shiny butt. This had a nice western, showdown at the OK Corral feel to it. Blood still stained her hand and face, and no doubt her clothes too. Much of it was Vincent’s.

  “You are not a Warrior,” he reminded her. “And you’re hurt.”

  “Are you breaking your word?” Cyn began to unbuckle her gun belt, sure that would make it difficult for him to dismiss her. She lowered it to one of the nearby benches that was loaded with weapons being retooled and repaired. Then she wiped her bloody hands on a convenient cloth and wiped away more blood where it’d wet her neck.

  When she spoke, her facial wounds dribbled blood.

  “No. Of course not. You insist on this duel?”

  “I do.” She walked a little closer, eyeing his followers. Her face ached like a thousand demons were poking her with hot jalapenos. Not that the beasters worried her, but she wished to gauge their reaction to this, to her challenging their leader.

  “They won’t accept you if you win.”

  “Perhaps this is true. Then… if I win, I will step aside and let Orin lead.”

  The gasps and derogatory speculation from the crowd made her smile. She had him. Now he would want to prove himself better.

  “Very well.” He undid a weapon belt or two, stripped himself of guns and knives, and gave them to his followers. “Orin leads if I lose. If not, you leave this quarter, forever.”

  “Oh, I won’t lose.”

  Someone chose then to yell. “She’s badly wounded! This should wait until she heals.”

  “Fuck that.” Drummer dismissed the statement, slashing at the air with his hand. “She insisted. This will end when she cannot rise from the floor. Agreed?”

  Cyn nodded, smiled thinly. “When you cannot rise.”

  He took two steps forward, long but slow ones.

  She sprinted, lit up her burning hands, then lunged and skated forward on the dust and the momentum. Though he raised his hands, she swiped in a fiery arc and burned across his hands at the wrist, and his head at the neck.

  His severed hands fell from his wrists.

  An angled black and sizzling red line showed at his neck.

  Drummer’s head slowly slid from his neck, thudded wetly to the floor. It sat there smoking and crackling. His eyes stared then died, eyelids half-closing. Mouth agape.

  Cyn dusted off her hands. Flames spat. “I win. Orin, you’re the leader now.” She bowed but kept her arms wide and her hands alight.

  Then she turned and walked away.

  Gasps and cries followed her, but no footsteps. She was right, most were tired of Drummer.

  “That’s… fuck. That’s cheating! Come back!”

  She extinguished the fire. Cyn turned then walked backward and away from them for a few steps. She held up her hands. “Bare hands only. No weapons. He knew what I was. And he sucked as a leader! Deal with it!”

  The last beaster she took note of was Orin, who stepped out from the crowd, the black-muscled and winged beaster, his horns gleaming like oil, the blue streaks on him as startling as stars in the night. He raised both hands and gave her a double thumbs up.

  Heh. He couldn’t do worse than Drummer.

  Then she left. Little Mo emerged from the darkness beneath an armored car to scamper alongside her.

  Although Rutger and Vincent might know much of what had occurred on their raid, the one thing she’d forgotten to plan for was how to inform Maura of what she had seen above, what the Lure had been like, how many enemies were likely…

  Jolted by a memory, she stopped walking.

  And well, when the queens would launch. That minor detail. It would happen in less than four weeks.

  She’d leeched that data from the minds of the GLs and had barely noticed it at the time.

  “Hey, Little Mo.”

  “Hello, Cyn. I’m back following you.”

  “I see that. I plan on staying by myself awhile, probably a few weeks. Can you link to Big Mo, if I need it?”

  “I can.”

  “Good.” She could tell the others what she knew. “This could get lonely.”

  Vargr would be livid. Rutger, he might accept her choice. She’d have to scavenge for food, a safe place to live, stay on the move in case Vargr or Rutger decided to track her.

  She needed to go full demon.

  There could be no turning back from this.

  Drummer had been partly right. Some of this day… make that night, had been a failure.

  Do better.

  She was doing better by going badder.

  Or was that badass-er?

  “I have to go full demon, Mo.” Going cold turkey on bondmating would not be easy. “It might get nasty. I might get nasty. I wish I knew for sure if I could keep being human. I want to still be me.”

  Was she whining to the little bot? Yes, she was.

  “I can help you, Cyn. Please. I will tell you if you are nasty.”

  She looked down, and Mo had a clawed limb held up high. She squatted and took the tiny pincers between finger and thumb, then she shook it very carefully. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Protecting you is my job.”

  She straightened and wiped beneath her eyes, which were watering stupidly.

  “Damn. Who cares if I cry? I might forget how to soon.”

  Cyn walked onward, boots still jingling, heading into the darker, uninhabited areas of War Quarter. Little Mo trotted along with her.

  “Appreciate the help, little one,” she said, adding softly, “What profit a human if they gain the world b
ut lose their soul?” She was definitely concerned for her soul, even if she hadn’t had a lot of use for it lately. Did demons even have one?

  “Your soul, Miss Cyn? I don’t know what that is but if you give it to me, I will keep it safe for you.”

  Awww. Adorable. Who’d been feeding cuteness to this bot’s programming?

  “I wish that was possible, Mo. That would simplify things a helluva lot.”

  When she’d killed Drummer, she hadn’t felt a thing. Not fear or sadness or worry, or even regret.

  Nothing.

  She should take the trinkets off her boots. The noise might alert some animal predator as to her whereabouts… but then again, she could kill anything she encountered, as long as it wasn’t a whole bunch of Ghoul Lords. Let the buyer beware, so to speak. Fuck with me and die.

  Gunshots echoed in the distance, carried in the long hallways, then rapid fire followed. It could be anywhere on this story. Afraid of what that might mean, she questioned Little Mo.

  “Big Mo tells me a skinsuit attack was detected early. It was repulsed by the machine guns linked to scent detectors that the Warriors set up.” Mo paused as if listening to Big Mo. “It was a great success, Cyn.”

  “Good.”

  They really were getting nearer to being able to defeat the Ghoul Lords. She crunched her hands into fists.

  How many humans were left? Thousands or millions worldwide? It wasn’t as if they had hard data. Four weeks until launch and every day more people would die.

  “Can you please send to Big Mo,” she said, “That I’m being careful with the Lure. I’ll be testing myself. Tell him to tell Maura, and…” She swallowed. “…and V and Rutger.”

  * * * * *

  First the hands of skinsuits appeared at the edge then they began to pull themselves up. Before long, Avidex was certain something terrible had happened below. So few returned. The humans had somehow destroyed much of this force, even though it was the largest ever sent below. Fifteen Ghoul Lords and many rippers had left and only four Ghoul Lords returned.

  This will not be good for us, Willow.

  Now you too say us.

  He ignored his Willow brain and watched as Blobby wobbled toward him… them. Alas the Blob had not been one of those who volunteered to attack the humans.

  Behind Blobby a line of Ghoul Lords slowly gathered and swelled, advancing this way also.

  They look threatening, Willow thought. What will you do?

  Listen. What else could he do?

  Blobby raised several tentacles and waved them at Avidex. You sent them below and many died. You must be punished for this. We have talked among ourselves.

  And left him out of the chat room, clearly.

  And so we cast punishment on you. You are banished to be a guard of the rogue queen on the next set of buildings. You will leave now.

  So… I’m guessing we should pack a suitcase?

  He hissed mentally at his human. No longer did he have the slightest chance to be a part of the launch of queens. The joke is not appropriate.

  He backed away from those confronting him and began to slither to the opposite edge.

  Once there, hours later, he gazed down at the rubble covered Top where the rogue queen had stupidly landed and built her mound. It was miles below, beneath the clouds and barely visible.

  How will we get there?

  We sail down, we float. It is how I came here years ago, except I was wise enough to find this landing site and not that poor one down there.

  I see.

  And so it was. He sailed, he floated, then he overshot the Top entirely and kept sailing, while cursing the wind and his stupid human.

  Heyyy. She sounded affronted in thought.

  I am not sorry. Your advice caused this.

  I didn’t know of the consequences.

  You are trouble. You’re lucky you taste good or I would get rid of you.

  They landed on the Ground, a terrible place. Though the Lure worked on most creatures, this place was anathema. Shuddering, Avidex shook dirt off his tentacles. It would be a long sliding, slithery journey to get back to the buildings. He must go across the ground, over the debris mound, then he would have to climb all the way up the side. It would take days.

  The Top is low. There is that.

  Her point was true.

  This we call seeing the bright side of life. Although, what will you eat to survive down here? There are no humans.

  You wish me to eat your kind?

  No.

  A herd of four-legged striped animals galloped nearby, beneath the twinkling, starry sky.

  He slithered onward. I will eat some of those.

  Zebras? You cannot eat those. Some are babies, plus they are too cute.

  Avidex tried to roll his large saucer-sized eyes. I am a predator, a flesh-eater. So are your species. You must have eaten these. I will Lure them close.

  We did not.

  You did not eat them? Why?

  Stripes. And cute, and too like horses.

  He found the human logic terribly odd at times like this.

  All predators eat the lesser creatures. Humans did this. Now we eat you.

  That is bad.

  Bad… good. The concept escapes me.

  You cause unnecessary suffering.

  Avidex blew a mental raspberry. We kill our prey, humans. Why is it not bad for humans to kill their prey?

  We think. We are intelligent.

  He didn’t see why that made a difference.

  Later on, growing hungry, he caught a zebra anyway and ate it in spite of the shrieks and mind-mutterings of Willow. Though, truthfully, he was beginning to see what cute meant. The sky was pretty, the stripes on the hide were so… interesting in their geometrical arrangement.

  From the bloody remains of its skin, he retrieved a genetic sample. He could play with it when he had the time. When he ate other creatures along the way, he kept samples of those also.

  One never knew when one might make use of them.

  On the journey, he conjured up a Willow copy a few times, amused himself fucking her and eating her. He kept his Willow brain unaware. Causing her discomfort and pain was no longer appealing.

  Once, he made a zebra copy from other living material—same as he made his Willow copies. The creature staggered about on its newborn spindly limbs. It even had a brain, though it was a pristine clean, zebra one. This seemed to astonish Willow.

  Wow! You can do this?

  Yes, though it requires ingredients and energy.

  Creating something is so much better than destruction.

  You humans can make new humans—babies.

  The similarity perplexed her which he found funny. Good and bad puzzled him, but this puzzled her?

  Chapter 18

  Vargr loped alongside Rutger toward the armory entrance. Seven or eight armored vehicles had been lined up outside, and as they drew nearer, he saw most were shiny with new paint. Names like Ghoul Lord Nemesis, Dark Revenge, and Tank Rabbit were plastered on a few in pink and blue. These beasters sure had a love of graffiti.

  They slowed their run to a trot. Vincent was guarding the entrance. His healing arm was puny as fuck but he grinned and raised his other hand.

  Vargr nodded to him and to Orin, the new Warriors leader. Orin cheerfully waved a paint brush. The male was getting along fine in his new job, leading by example and a cool head, and not bluster and fear.

  The lead-up to this attack was going better than he’d ever dreamed it could.

  Except for that one thing.

  A week to go. Everything was being rushed, but with only two weeks to queen launch, as Cyn’s first message had indicated, they were caught between rock and hard place. Go early and die. Go late and there would be zero humans left alive.

  No Cyn however, and she should be here. It’d been two weeks without her. It hurt.

  His heart squeezed in on a painful beat.

  “We should be hunting her down, and you know it.”
Vargr smacked the wall beside the armory door as he passed through.

  “Cyn?”

  “Of course. Who else?” His fist crushed in on the weapon he held, one of the newly developed sizzle guns.

  He eyed the nearby activity balefully. How dare anyone have fun painting while he was hurting? And they should’ve asked him about the name of this rifle. Gun Sizzle was better because then he could’ve called it Jizz.

  A bad pun but still…

  Rutger was taking his time answering.

  “Well?”

  “No, I do not know that. And I’m the one who gets to punch walls, not you. Has Maura been ODing you on demon nanites?”

  “No. Fuck. She as much as admitted she’s never given me as high a dose as that very first one. Even when we went to the Top.”

  “Really?” Rutger’s eyebrows slanted up. “So your bad temper is just you?”

  “Har-de-har. This sex withdrawal is making my balls ache. We are bondmates, and this is not natural.”

  “Crap, V. Enough with your balls. Hi, Maura!”

  The incoming nanodog weaved in between the armored vehicles bearing Maura with that fancy sword in hand. Toother bounded along like a big fluffy attack tiger, a floof-ball of joy. Only when he showed his sharklike teeth did you get the impression this might be a mean creature.

  She said something to Toother and he slowed, padding toward them. The naked sword she bore was carried low. Was she practicing for something? He’d asked her a few times about its purpose. Surely a gun was more useful, but she’d only smiled. A plus-something-ice-sword Cyn had once joked.

  He stepped up to rub his hand over Toother’s ear. The critter was happy again. Third owner lucky, hopefully.

  “How is the schedule going, Maura?” Rutger asked.

  “Well.” She had to catch her breath. “Damn. Riding takes it out of you. Comms are working with the leapfrog messaging around the globe. Everyone we could get to reply has the attack day down, adjusted for time zones so it’s nightfall where they are. All the drone drops are verified, except the last couple. Our drone may have gone down way up near the North Pole, but I think we have enough quarters invested in this.”

  Enough to save the human species, if they could defeat the GLs.

  “So the nanites are getting grown?” Vargr dug in a pocket for the packet of dog chews he kept for Toother, took it out and unwrapped a piece. “’Cause that sounded fucking complicated to me.”