Sepia Blue- Nameless: A Sepia Blue Novel- Book 4

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  He had managed to send Hep a message through one of his old contacts in the Gray. Whether or not Hep received the message remained to be seen. He had given Hep specific instructions; most of them were designed to flush out any tails. If Hep had decided to turn on him, Cade would know in a few seconds.

  Hep stood in the center of the small cemetery, extended his arms to the sides, and slowly turned. Strapped to his back was a long tube.

  “Feeling pretty silly doing this in a cemetery, Cade,” Hep said out loud. “I came alone.”

  Cade swept the area again with his sight, confirming what Hep said was true. Still, he waited. A good gunman wouldn’t show his hand until the last possible moment; a great one would be invisible even after putting a bullet in you.

  When he was satisfied all avenues of approach were clear, Cade climbed down.

  “Thank you for coming,” Cade said, extending a hand. “I appreciate this.”

  “You could’ve picked a less morbid place,” Hep said, looking around and shaking Cade’s hand. “Daylight would’ve been nice too.”

  “I’m not trying to attract attention,” Cade answered. “This location serves multiple purposes. Did you bring it?”

  “This thing doesn’t even work any longer,” Hep said, tapping the tube strapped to his back. “Although to be honest, I haven’t had a chance to test it.”

  “Then how do you know it doesn’t work?”

  “Basic mechanics,” Hep answered. “No place to insert a magazine. It has a trigger, but no place to insert a round? Seems more like a prop to me.”

  Cade nodded and handed Hep the large bag he’d received from Xavier.

  “What’s this?” Hep asked, taking the bag. “More presents?”

  “That’s something for later, something heavy hitting.”

  “More heavy hitting than this thing? Although like I said, it seems more like decoration than weaponry.”

  “It would, normally, but these kinds of weapons are special,” Cade answered. “Have you ever heard of rift guns?”

  “Yes. Are you saying this is a—?”

  “Yes,” Cade answered. “Someone disguised it. Not surprising, but I knew what it was when I first saw it. Not something even a weapons master would recognize.”

  “I thought the markings on it were a little off. Gan brought it to the armory. Now I know why.”

  “Gan is wily that way; makes sense he would keep a rift gun close. I didn’t think I would need it one day. That was before Velos and Jen.”

  “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  “I need this gun operational,” Cade said. “The blade that killed Jen is a dark named Hunter blade. I don’t think any of the Hunter blades on the street can stop it, named or not.”

  “She was a class-one Hunter,” Hep said, keeping his voice low. “How bad is it?”

  “Bad,” Cade said, looking away into his memory of Jen’s last fight. “This Velos dismantled her fighting style in seconds. Knew the Hunter-gunman MO, and blocked my line of sight. I was surrounded by his team in seconds. This was a professional group—a hand of trained Regional Agents.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “I’m certain,” Cade answered, remembering the group on the roof. “Trained, but arrogant. I think ending them may have pissed Velos off.”

  “You finished an entire team—alone?”

  “Not the point,” Cade said, waving Hep’s words away. “Jen may have been a threat against the Unholy, but she never stood a chance against Velos. Her blade couldn’t stop him or that black energy it emits.”

  “And this thing can?”

  “Yes, it can and more.”

  “Who would be insane enough to unleash a dark blade? On other Hunters?”

  “Way above my pay grade,” Cade said. “I’m more concerned with stopping the bastard that killed Jen. He won’t stop with her. He’s on some righteous crusade against the Order—Hunters especially.”

  Hep nodded, his expression grim.

  “Cesca was the first,” he said. “He killed her and left Hector alive to tell the tale. Something about bringing the end. Hector was taken off-duty.”

  “Losing your Hunter throws you,” Cade said. “Some never recover. Hector is strong. He’ll come back from this.”

  “This Velos is being used,” Hep said, rubbing his chin. “Someone else, someone powerful in Regional had to sanction putting him on the street with a dark blade.”

  “Hep, do not pursue that train of thought,” Cade said. “It can only lead to a dead-end. Literally. Focus on the task at hand. Do you think you can do it?”

  “I thought, when it came to these blades, only Hunter blades could stop other Hunter blades?”

  “Stop thinking like a Hunter and start thinking like a weapons master. Not everything is solved with a blade. Sometimes a gun is just as good, if not better.”

  “True. According to my studies, rift guns were banned because they were unstable and lethal. Especially for the shooter.”

  “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

  “What if it misfires or kills you?”

  “Misfire? I doubt it. Kill me? Possible,” Cade admitted. “How soon can you get it operational?”

  “A rift gun needs a fissure or access to the rift to work properly,” Hep said. “All surface rift sources were sealed long ago. I can make sure the wards are unobstructed and that everything is in the right place, but how will you use the weapon?”

  “The Gray has old maps of the fissures,” Cade said. “I’m going to need one of those and compact drilling equipment.”

  “Those things were sealed for a reason,” Hep said. “Too much exposure to a rift is deadly for us. We’re not Unholy.”

  “Understood,” Cade said. “The less attention you attract, the better. You need to do this discreetly.”

  “I have another shop I can use. It’s my personal workshop.”

  “Does anyone else know about this shop?” Cade asked. “Anyone in the Gray?”

  “Only Gan knows about it.”

  “Are you certain?” Cade asked. “Working on a banned weapon will bring you all kinds of heat.”

  “Then I guess I’m in the right company,” Hep said. “Word on the street is that you’ve gone TAG-Terminated Awol Gunman.”

  “Bullshit,” Cade said. “They need a way to stop me. Giving me a TAG designation is the best way.”

  “Is this going to be enough?” Hep asked. “What about Sepia?”

  “What about her?” Cade asked, suddenly defensive. “What happened?”

  “She’s missing,” Hep said. “There are rumors—”

  “Rumors? What rumors?”

  “She’s gone dark. She’s turned into some kind of Unholy.”

  “Impossible.”

  “I agree,” Hep said. “The Gray are mobilizing our task force to confront her.”

  “Gan agreed to this?” Cade asked in disbelief. “No way would he mobilize against her.”

  “Shit, Gan is missing,” Hep said. “This was requested direct from Regional.”

  “Regional? Since when is Regional concerned with Gray activity?”

  “Since never,” Hep said. “This feels off. The request came through official channels.”

  “Someone is pulling strings,” Cade said. “Think you can access who sent the request?”

  “With enough time, sure, but I have to be indirect about it.”

  “Do it,” Cade said. “Get me that map and the rift gun. Leave finding a rift to me.”

  “Give me a day or two on the map and gun,” Hep said. “How will I find you?”

  “I’ll find you.”

  SIXTEEN

  Destin had always possessed the ability to sense targets before her. It’s what made them such a lethal team. He could sense them, she could assess them. Together, they would eliminate them.

  One or two packs of Dreadwolves, however, would be taking on unneeded risk. The mission was to locate the Hunter and report back, n
ot take on Dreadwolves and die a horrific death in the Park.

  “Which way?” Pira asked. “Trajectory?”

  “One pack coming in from the west, the other heading straight our way from the north,” Destin said. “Since we’re doing a minimal footprint, are we avoiding the welcoming committee?”

  “If we can, yes,” Pira answered, sheathing her blades. “I’d rather not engage until absolutely necessary. Preferably after we have the information we’re here for. The Hunter’s Keep is due east from here”—Pira pointed into the night—“straight that way.”

  “I’m sure we can evade Dreadwolves,” Destin said with a smile. “It’ll be just like stealth training back in the day.”

  Destin began moving east, with Pira behind him.

  “Is it possible we engaged in different exercises?” Pira asked. “I don’t seem to recall our stealth drills including Dreadwolves.”

  “I know,” Destin said. “Pity. That would’ve made them more interesting.”

  Pira shook her head as they became silent and moved quickly through the trees. A few minutes later, howls filled the night. Pira and Destin stood still.

  Pira tapped her temple, pointed to her eyes, and then pointed outward. Where are they? Destin responded to her question by tapping two fingers to his opposite shoulder and then motioning left, before making a fist and sweeping his arm right. Two hundred meters west. Route clear north and east.

  Pira nodded and picked up the pace, continuing east. It was several minutes before she realized they were being tracked. They both stopped. It made no sense to continue—whoever or whatever was tracking them posed a serious threat.

  Both were experts in masking and remaining unseen. If someone or something was managing to follow them, it meant they were using extranormal abilities. Confrontation was the best course of action.

  To continue would compromise the mission. Better to deal with the threat now and continue undetected, than lead whatever it was right to the Keep and their objective.

  “What is it?” Pira asked, keeping her voice low as she drew her blades. “It doesn’t read like Dreadwolves.”

  “You’re not going to like my answer,” Destin said, drawing two warded curved blades, his preferred fighting weapons: karambits. “This isn’t a Dreadwolf.”

  “I just said that,” Pira said, sliding into a defensive stance. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “That’s just it. I don’t know what could track us and be this silent about it.”

  “You’re right,” Pira said as she scanned the night. “I don’t like it.”

  “So predictable,” a voice said in the night. “I knew you’d want to avoid the Dreadwolves. Any sane person would. Then again, any sane person would also avoid the Park at night. With the obvious path blocked, that only left one route. This one.”

  “Who are you?” Pira asked. “What do you want?”

  The figure materialized in the clearing near them. It was vaguely humanoid in shape, about twice the size of a normal human and covered in lean muscle. Its large eyes were perfectly adapted for night vision, and in each of its four massive hands was a short sword.

  “Shit,” Destin said under his breath. “No wonder I couldn’t read it—a Chamai.”

  Chamai were some of the rarely seen Unholy. They opted for remaining hidden in the shadows until the last possible moment before striking a lethal blow. They were fast, intelligent and deadly. In addition to being fearsome fighters, they possessed the ability of nearly perfect camouflage. Chamai were known for disappearing in plain sight.

  Encountering one at night in the Park was a death sentence.

  “I was just about to ask you the same thing,” the Chamai said. “You enter my home uninvited and then expect me to answer your questions. The impudence is staggering. Who are you and what do you want?”

  Pira sheathed her blades.

  “What are you doing?” Destin hissed. “Did you happen to notice the four arms holding four weapons?”

  “We are just passing through,” Pira said, slowly raising her hands in surrender. “We mean no offense.”

  “No offense?” the Chamai said with a short laugh. “Your mere presence here is an offense. To add insult to injury, now you lie to my face. No human simply passes through our domain, unless they are seeking death. Is this what you seek—death?”

  “We seek safe passage—” Pira began.

  “You will find none tonight,” the Chamai said, cutting her off. “This night only offers death.”

  The Chamai slowly faded from view.

  “Wonderful,” Destin said as he moved behind Pira, holding his blades out. “Were you trying to negotiate with it?”

  “Are you insane?” Pira answered under her breath as she drew her blades. “You can’t negotiate with Chamai. I needed to know how many there were. With one, we have a chance. Two or more, we need Strategy R.”

  “Is that the one where we run as fast as possible in the opposite direction?”

  “That’s the one,” Pira said with a nod. “Except we have an issue.”

  “The Dreadwolves are flanking us,” Destin answered. “Cutting us off.”

  “Which only leaves the Hunter’s Keep or straight up.”

  “I haven’t mastered flying yet,” Destin said. “Have you?”

  “Not one of my skills, no.”

  “We go for the Keep, then,” Destin said. “At least it seems to be close.”

  “This is the Park,” Pira said. “Distances are not true in here.”

  “Plenty of things aren’t true in here,” Destin added. “Remind me again why we’re in here at night?”

  “I figured you could use the challenge,” Pira said as they turned. “You have been getting a little lax with your training these days.”

  “Lax?” Destin asked with a chuckle. “I don’t recall ever requesting your input on my rigorous training regimen.”

  “Chamai can only camouflage their bodies for short periods of time,” Pira said. “It’s like holding their breath for them. We just have to wait it out.”

  “That sounds fun,” Destin said. “You forgot the part where we don’t die in the meantime.”

  “And not die in the meantime,” Pira said as a sword sliced through the night in her direction. “Move.”

  She parried the strike with her blade, making sure to stay close to Des as they rotated. They both ducked under another slash as Destin sliced across the Chamai’s legs.

  A roar of rage filled the night as it disappeared again.

  “I think it’s pissed,” Destin said with another chuckle. “Maybe it will change its mind?”

  “Focus,” Pira said. “It’s wounded, not dead, which means—”

  “It’s dangerous.”

  More roars filled the night.

  “Shit,” Pira said. “This just went from bad to—”

  “Clusterfuck,” Destin said. “I think we need Strategy R right about now.”

  Another blade cut through the night aimed at Destin. He shoved Pira out of the way and rotated around the attack, jumping into the night. He landed on the Chamai with a grunt.

  “What are you doing?” Pira yelled. “There are more of them!”

  “Buying us some time,” Destin said. “Stop looking at me and run. I’ll catch up!”

  “You better, you maniac.”

  Destin laughed again.

  “Now would be a good time,” he yelled. “Get going!”

  Pira turned, orienting herself toward the Hunter’s Keep, and ran.

  SEVENTEEN

  The roars increased in volume as she ran.

  The Hunter’s Keep appeared close, but Pira knew the truth. Distance was a flexible concept in the Park. Even though the Keep appeared close, it remained the same distance from her as she pumped her legs harder.

  Explosions rocked the Park behind her as Destin caught up.

  “That should give him something to think about for a little while,” Destin said as he ran. “I’m pretty s
ure there are about three of them, maybe more.”

  “How did you—nevermind. Keep running.”

  “Maybe you need to quit that desk job,” Destin said. “I caught up to you pretty fast. Are you slowing down? I’m guessing Assistant Directors don’t need to run anywhere.”

  “We don’t,” Pira said, picking up the pace. “We usually stand still and eradicate any incoming threat.”

  “Oh, so you were waiting for me?”

  “I was giving you time to catch up, knowing how your old knees get when any activity beyond a brisk walk is required,” Pira said. “Are you warmed up?”

  “You mean besides nearly exploding myself with the Chamai back there?”

  “Obviously, yes.”

  “I’m ready,” Destin said. “If you think you can handle it.”

  Pira nodded, touching her combat armor and activating the dormant wards. They blazed to life in an array of reds and oranges as she picked up the pace further.

  “Keep up,” Pira said as Destin did the same to his combat armor. “Chamai don’t stop pursuit until—”

  “They or their prey are dead,” Destin finished. “Got it. Let’s go.”

  The roars faded behind them as they ran. Several minutes later they arrived at the outer circle of wards surrounding the Hunter’s Keep. Pira came to a sudden stop.

  The Keep was an imposing structure sitting in the center of an open field. From a distance, it appeared to be a small castle. Like with distances, however, appearances weren’t always what they seemed in the Park.

  The Hunter’s Keep was the original base of operations for the elite group of class-one Hunters, led by Emiko, Sepia’s mother, the original Jade Demon. They had situated their base in the Park to send a message:

  You may be dangerous, but not as dangerous as us.

  “Stop,” Pira said, holding up a hand. “We have to stop.”

  “Stop?” Destin asked confused. “Angry Chamai and Dreadwolves headed our way. Ring a bell?”

  “If we cross the threshold of this ward circle we will fry where we stand.”