by Dana Cameron
“I’m caught in the middle here, and it’s up to me to decide. You may forget that it’s only me between us and the Makers. That puts me in a tough spot, and I welcome your support and advice. But I don’t ever get to forget that it comes down to my decision, my skin in the game, and I have to live with the outcome, no matter what happens. So a little empathy for my situation rather than looking out for your own selves wouldn’t be amiss. There are enough folks ready to screw all of us.”
I looked around. Nobody said anything. Toshi dropped his gaze; Knight didn’t. Will looked majorly pissed off. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll take some time to think all this over and get back to you if I need anything to get ready for tomorrow. Thanks.”
Before anyone could do anything else, I made a beeline for the door, and was down the stairs so fast, I had to wonder how many steps I’d actually touched.
I didn’t stop until I reached the picket guard, who looked confused. I waved him aside, let him know I was okay, and pointed to the rocks that marked the edge of that part of the cliff.
I sat down. It was warm and there was a small flat space that made a pretty good seat. I watched the seagulls fighting for a while, until they took the squabble to the shingle and fought over whatever stolen treat they had. I watched another hover on the updrafts, hardly moving a feather, and envied him. A narrow range of responsibilities, being a seagull. A limited set of requirements and tasks.
A shout jarred me out of the daydream. The guard was waving at me, and I saw Dmitri Parshin waiting as patiently as he could to get my attention, which wasn’t very patient at all. But another time, another life, he might have just shot the guard and then held me over the cliff by my hair. So respect of this sort was an improvement.
I waved him over. He glared at the guard—not one of his men, apparently—and stood by the rock, his arms crossed, while I watched the seagull hovering on the wind.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him scan the ground and glance back up at the seagull. Before he could indulge his instinct to find a rock and throw it at the bird, I sighed and turned.
“I just came from the lighthouse,” he said.
“And no doubt someone tattled to you,” I said. “I behaved poorly, but don’t tell me they’re just trying to do their best. That they just want to help and got overexcited. It’s starting to get personal, and they’re starting to get scared.”
“I would never tell you they’re doing their best.” Dmitri laughed, and it was a harsh, barking sound. “I’m a cynic. I believe everyone is acting in their own self-interest. And more than that, I’m generally deeply suspicious.”
“What are you going to do?” I was curious what part of the truth he would tell me; I would know if he was lying.
“I’m going to stand by you,” he said simply, “as I promised. More than that, tomorrow, the day after . . .” He shrugged. “There’s no point in lying to you, but you’re making me nervous, Zoe. Not many things do, and it is not something I care for.”
I had to smile. I couldn’t deny that making Dmitri Parshin nervous gave me terrific satisfaction. I shrugged back, making it as European looking as I could. Because a European shrug said “sophisticated mystery” and an American shrug said, “Huh?”
“I do not like the idea of you deciding to subjugate the human race,” he continued. “I do not like you giving even more power to the Fangborn. I do not like you thinking about giving that power back, leaving an . . . an alien force unchecked and us powerless against it.”
“Me, neither.”
I braced myself. If he tried to push me over, I’d blast him. Even if that didn’t work, I’d take him with me, and I had a much better chance of surviving than he did, despite the rocks, the waves, and the height. He could try to do it and think he was saving the world . . .
“I do not trust people,” he said, “but I think you are not a bad choice to be the one deciding. It’s as close to a fair chance for the rest of us as I can think.” He put his hand on my shoulder. I tried not to tense. “Do you want to go back now? The others are worried.”
“No, thanks. I’m going for a walk. You can reassure them if you’re truly concerned.” I smiled; he was very convincing when he wanted to be. “You solicitousness is deeply gratifying, Dmitri Alexandrovich. It is a comfort to me in this time of grave concerns and fear.”
He laughed again. Danny had told me no one used that kind of archaic address anymore, that it was just in old Russian novels, but I didn’t care. I had learned it from a Russian novel.
“I only ask that, once you have ascended to be queen of the world, Zoe Richardovna, you will remember that it was poor Dmitri Parshin who was there for you.”
“Remember the little people, that it?” Dmitri towered above me by about a foot and a half and outweighed me by a hundred pounds.
He bowed, a sweeping gesture. “If you would be so kind.”
We set out for Carolina’s retreat in upstate New York, following much the same route as I had the day before. When we rendezvoused with the Free Pack, Passey growled at me. I ignored him, as if he was beneath my notice. I was learning from the best, Senator Knight and Carolina Perez-Smith. I did notice some of his fellows making gestures, but whether they were blessing themselves or trying to avoid the evil eye, I did not know. They did not like the look of Max, who was so eager for retribution he hadn’t smoked since we left, or of Claudia Steuben, who was dressed in black and ready for battle. Her serenity scared me.
Gerry was more like a football player before a game, pumped up and pacing, until Toshi irritably asked him to stop “jumping about.” We all had our ways of warming up, I guess.
A group of oracles, including Rose and Ivy, were near our landing spot, ready to lend their talents. One was known for luck, so his presence was very welcome. Some were able to communicate with others and helped keep us all on the same page. Danny and Vee were with them, to help with the more mundane aspects of communication and monitoring the emergency channels. Only a small group of us knew she was there in case I needed her gift to help boost my powers.
Will dogged my steps, as did Adam, who had insisted to Representative Nichols that he be the one from her office to “observe.”
I was glad to have allies.
The main goal was to rescue the prisoners and raid the lab. After that, it was about locating and containing Carolina herself and any Order personnel.
We approached cautiously, and slowed when we saw too many cars, too many lights.
“There’s some kind of event tonight,” Senator Knight said. He was at the most casual I’d ever seen him, in a sports shirt, pressed khakis, and lace ups. “My informant did not tell me. This will complicate things.”
I did not think his informant was any longer in Edward Knight’s good graces, and suddenly I knew who it was. Zimmer—“Clean-head” as I’d once called him—had done dirty work for Knight; sometimes this involved beating me up. Old as the senator was, Zimmer’s evilness didn’t bother him.
It stank to me.
“We need a distraction,” I said. My gaze traveled to the large barn and the door covered with hateful trophies.
Passey shot me a look of pure joy. “We will set fire to it.”
I reached out to the barn and sensed many beating hearts in there. “Wait. I think the prisoners may be in there, so check for hidden rooms if you don’t see them at first. Remember, this is a rescue—and we’re rescuing the Normals, too.”
Passey frowned with distaste.
“Even if they’re not there, keep in touch,” I continued. “I need all the information we can get.”
He looked at Senator Knight, who nodded slightly. Passey nodded, gestured, and they took off with a troop of his werewolves.
To hell with them both. “Will, please go with him? I don’t trust either of them.”
“I’m not leaving you!” he said.
“Thanks, be careful with Knight,” I warned. “Remember, he thinks you betrayed him.”
“That’s because I did. But we’re all on the same team now,” Adam said, with a pointed look at Will. Then he ran off, almost silently, through the woods.
Will and I joined the second team, who were beginning to close around the house, and waited. Any minute now our assault would begin.
“Zoe . . .” My earpiece crackled and the senator’s voice was strange. “There’s . . . a hide on the wall.”
“Yes, I saw the pictures.”
“No. This is new.”
I’d never heard him so strained. “Yes?”
“It’s a dragon hide.”
I took a moment to digest the enormity of that insult, the utter disrespect for the beast, the colossal affront to the dragons and the Makers.
It suddenly made sense, and when I realized what was going on, I felt myself swept away on a flood of anger. But that emotion was working for me, because it joined several thoughts together, making them whole in an instant: The scarab chip had been to reach out to unearthly minds. Dmitri’s words about going where the power was. Carolina’s ultimate goals.
That was her plan.
Shaking, I reached out psychically for the dragons. “I believe Carolina has killed a dragon and is intending to use its power to communicate with the Makers herself. Do you sense anything that might indicate where she is?”
Naserian answered. “Hellbender, I can taste his stolen jewels.”
“Can you guide me?”
“Yes, but it is a difficult trail, made by one who does not know fully what she’s doing.”
A rifle shot, followed by an alarm and shouts. We’d been discovered. The Order guards were firing back. I could smell the foulness of the Fellborn unleashed to find us; soon my Family would be drawn to their evil scent.
“Go, everyone, now!” I shouted. “Hit them now!” I shifted my focus to the dragon. “Naserian, take me now!”
“Hellbender, I obey!”
More shots. A light—I saw him.
Bald, scarred . . . Zimmer, the man whose footsteps had dogged mine through Europe, the senator’s spy in Carolina’s retreat, had now betrayed us all.
I raised my hand and got two blasts off, but Zimmer had moved as soon as he saw me in his scope.
He raised his rifle, pointed at me. Then swung it around.
He shot Will three times, center mass.
Naserian began to follow Carolina’s trail to the Makers, taking me along with her as I stared, horrified.
“No!”
I was drawn helplessly away from the fight, from Will dying, from the here and now, and on my way to find Carolina.
As soon as we had found ourselves in the metaverse Carolina was using, I shouted to Naserian. “Go, back, please! Get Will out of there! Heal him if you can! It’s his only chance!”
Naserian nodded, a strange thing to see a dragon do. “But how will you get back if I leave, Hellbender?”
“I have a lot to do before I can even think of leaving. Go, please!”
With Naserian gone, I found myself in a train tunnel that felt generically like New York, London, or Paris. That confused me, because I’d believed I’d find myself at the Boston University Castle, which was Carolina’s goal. Then I realized that she was far from adept in her acquisitions, that she had stolen the life and knowledge of a dragon, but her use of it was imperfect. Her transition wouldn’t be automatic because of how she cobbled together the means to get here.
I glanced in the train that was just pulling out. Carolina wasn’t on it. It was a subway train, not an Amtrak train, so it wouldn’t be a long journey to the Makers. I wouldn’t have much time to stop her.
Carolina appeared on the platform a moment after that train departed, and cursed, looking around in bewilderment. I had a moment to observe her and remarked the rank of chips that had been mated with fragments of Fangborn artifacts, like the scarab hybrid Lisa Tarkka had given me, along her arm. The scar from the surgery was still stitched, red, and angry. When she saw me, she turned purple with fury and threw a bolt of energy at me.
It was ragged, unfocused, and fell short, scorching a wide swath of the platform. Even as the thought crossed my mind, I was across the platform and had Changed. Before she could move, I jumped, spun, and kicked her in the gut.
“You can’t do this, Carolina,” I shouted.
“I am doing it! I’m taking the future in my hands!”
I grabbed at the chips, hoping I could snag one from her, but she was very quick, almost Fangborn quick, and I knew she’d taken the Order’s best speed and strength synthetics. She snarled at me and lashed out, but I jumped away.
“The Makers!” I shouted. “They’re talking only with me! They don’t like . . . disorder.”
“But I don’t talk to lackeys,” she said.
I aimed a blast at her, but she dodged that, mostly. There was a whoosh of exhaled air as she leaned forward clutching herself, sparks flying and blood flowing. I’d already used up a lot of that energy on Zimmer, but no mind. I followed up with a two-fisted hammer blow to the back of her neck and then ran to the wall. I pulled out the fire hose and spun the crank, blasting her full strength with it, trying to wash her off the platform.
A train was coming.
Somehow she managed to withstand the stream and force her way toward me. The hose suddenly turned on me, like a living thing, and the force hit me full, though I kept my balance. I don’t know how, but the fire hose twined around my ankles. Carolina appeared behind me and shoved me toward the train tracks.
I flailed, grabbed her hand, and pulled her into the ditch with me.
I could feel the train bearing down, the rumbling devastating; I couldn’t hear, couldn’t think. I had to find a way to stop her long enough to get away.
I could see the lights of the train behind Carolina. I could see my fear reflected in her cracked glasses. She was going to keep me busy, long enough to shove me into it, and scram out of there before she was hit.
Her strength was scary and unexpected. It was clear that she had as many of the enhancements as Porter and Buell did. It was too much like fighting Porter—ahhh.
She had enjoyed the fruits of his research but lacked one thing he had.
Bingo.
Porter’s gold signet ring.
I had the ring, and now I knew what it was for. Porter had created something to keep only for himself, an object that could remove the synthetic powers he’d given to his colleagues if he decided to.
The ring was Porter’s version of Fangborn shedding.
I pulled it out of thin air and slipped it on my finger. It was laughably too big, but it made a dandy knuckle-duster. I ate a couple of punches, which hurt like hell, but I needed my hands free. I grabbed Carolina by her expensive haircut with my left hand and slammed my fist, and the ring, into her forehead.
“We’re done here,” I said.
Time froze, literally, for the both of us. I didn’t feel anything but the sweat on her forehead stinging my cracked knuckles. When I tried to pull my hand away, to try and get away or drag her up to the platform, I couldn’t. And then shit got glowy.
I realized that the rising fog before my eyes wasn’t because I was about to pass out, but that there was a reddish mist accumulating around the pair of us. I closed my eyes, just a second, to make sure; then, when I opened them again, I could see that the mist was coalescing into tendrils.
Tentacles, really. They were moving, waving individually now, about a dozen of them, moving from my hand and the ring—which presumably was creating them—and hovering around Carolina’s head. They hovered a second longer, before all twelve—or was it twenty?—drove themselves into her forehead. More extended, and began to curl around the ch
ips in her arm, plucking them out delicately.
Carolina screamed. In this weird communion, I screamed, too, a chorus of pain to hers. It felt as though something in me was digging through her bone, brain, and psyche; it reminded me of trying to grab something valuable before it got lost in a trash can filled with glass fragments and metal industrial waste.
The world around me blurred, which I assumed meant that she was getting weaker, or at least her hold on the reality she’d created was getting weaker. I didn’t like betting, so with a great deal of concentration, I jumped? Teleported? Moved us to the platform again. At least we’d be out of the way of the train.
I felt good, felt like I was getting the upper hand, at long last, but I couldn’t seem to keep my balance. Carolina weighed virtually nothing, but she dragged on me like a laundry bag full of anvils. But that still wasn’t it. She wasn’t fighting me; she’d gone limp and I couldn’t let go.
The ground, the platform beneath us, was shaking. Disintegrating.
Shit. I was going to have to take her with me. I couldn’t go back to the lab—there was no way I was going to let her in there, no matter how dead or unconscious she might appear to be. I didn’t know what would happen if these two worlds—multiverses—collided. I had no idea of how to get to some neutral territory . . . some place that wasn’t me, and wasn’t Carolina’s fractured simulacrum of her internal world.
I cast about, desperately. Like an earthquake, the whole tunnel was collapsing around us now, and God only knew what was on the surface that might come crashing down on us. Worse, maybe there’d be nothing and we’d cease to exist.
But then I saw what looked like a ray of light, a ray of hope, and not the oncoming train. “I don’t know what or where or who you are,” I shouted. “But this is an emergency and I’m coming in!”
I looked down. The tentacles had transformed once more and were now terribly fine circuits that were running through the skin on Carolina’s face and neck. It was terrible, an alien intrusion into her body and mind, and I didn’t dare break it now. “Hang on, bitch.”
Grabbing her tight, I made with another one of those jump/morph transitions I still didn’t quite understand and felt myself hurtling toward the light. Maybe it was sunshine, maybe it was a firestorm, but I didn’t have a lot of choice.