"Then I began to realize that what Raven is doing could have helped me when I was growing up. I don’t even think my folks knew each other’s names, and whoever my mother was, she dumped me fast enough. An odd couple, Bedrick and Hilda Kies, raised me and gave me their name. But I've got no SIN. so the streets were my daycare center and television my schooling. I ran afoul of the gang that claimed my building as its turf -they’re the Halloweeners -and getting beat up became something I could look forward to each day."
"You survived it."
I nodded, again hearing the Old One howl, this time in triumph. "I outgrew the beatings. Then Raven came along and I've been with him ever since. In helping him curb some of the gangs and helping folks like you, I see myself breaking the cycle that kept me from trying to become more than a street tough." I gave her my top-of-the-line charming smile. "I could have been a corporate-type who would have swept you off your feet and made you forget Lattie."
She gave me a long, appraising glance, then shook her head ruefully. "No. you could never have been a suit."
Secretly relieved at her assessment of me, I glanced at my watch. "Well, the time for This-Is-Your-Life is up. We'd better head down to the car,"
* * *
I got a quick read from Valerie on the trouble zones out in the city. Stealth and his boys were busy dusting the Emerald Dogs, a Chinese Triad that accepted the Lone Star offer just because the other big Asian gang, the Tigers, had turned it down. Raven reported light fire in the middle of town, with things intensifying as they headed toward the estate.
I pulled the car cover off the black Nissan Mustang IV and patted the Demon affectionately. "Milady, your chariot awaits.
Nadia stared at my car and raised a hand to her mouth to suppress a laugh. "We’re going in this?"
I frowned. "Hey, don’t judge a car by its hubcaps. Lots of folks were really down on Ford and the Mustang after it got sold off to Nissan, but this monster is great. It’s faster than most speeding bullets, and armored in case someone shoots a quick one at us." I swung open my door and slid the MP-9 into the door holster. Slipping into the bucket seat behind the steering wheel, I leaned over and opened Nadia's door. She settled herself into her chair and covered herself from throat to ankles with the longcoat.
"Hang on. I'll take you on a tour of my old haunts, then we'll rocket out to the estate and finish all this off." I looked at the dash clock and winked at her. "After that. I figure we can ditch Lattie and go dancing."
"Lattie might not like that."
I shrugged. "Hey. what he thinks don’t matter to me, as long as you would like it. Besides, what kind of a boyfriend allows his woman’s apartment to be blown up by Lone Stars?"
She said nothing, but gave me one of those looks women have when they know more than you, and you’ve just made an idiot of yourself because of it.
Blushing slightly, I punched the ignition code into the Demon’s keypad, and the Mustang rolled out into the night. In the back of my mind, the Old One urged me to invoke him, but I refused. I hate driving jazzed because the Old One’s grasp of technology doesn’t extend much past inventions from the late Stone Age. He tends to see a car as a large bullet, which can create its own set of problems.
I cut down Pike and caught Fourth heading north. Breezes coming off the sound whipped scrap paper into dirty cyclones and sent styrofoam cups click-clattering along the sidewalk. The streets looked a bit deserted, but the usual cadre of joy-boys, dreamqueens, and flash-dealers lurked in the shadowed alleys. One or two of the prettier women strutted out toward the street and waved.
Nadia shot me a curious glance. "Friends of yours?"
"Professional acquaintances." When that did nothing to kill the mischievous glint in her eyes, I continued my explanation. "Stealth stops La Plante from co-opting them into his coflle of hookers, and they keep their eyes and ears open for us. In their sleep, folks say things they wouldn’t even tell their priest.
I didn’t see anything too alarming outside, but the Old One became more insistent as I turned northeast on Lenora and passed beneath the elevated Monorail line. I began to see more people on the street, but couldn’t figure out what had the Oid One so anxious until I realized that here, in the heart of Halloweener territory, I didn’t see any of my old enemies.
"Keep your head down. Things could get nasty here." I hit the gas and shot up through the intersection with Sixth Street. I knew if I could just make it to Westlake Ave, I’d be on a northern track that would carry me out of Halloweener turf. In fact, Westlake would shoot me right through the heart of Ancients territory and I much preferred taking my chances with them than Charles the Red and the rest of the Halloweenies.
At Seventh Avenue, a white pickup swerved into the intersection. I cut the wheel hard to the right, whipping the Mustang’s back end around in a squealing fishtail. The truck sideswiped me with a crunch and forced me right onto Seventh. I floored it and cut into the left lane to elude them, but the northern cutback onto Westlake was too sharp a turn to make at that speed. Instead, I cranked the wheel to the right and cut them off. That left me in the lead, but headed down Westlake in the direction opposite from the one I wanted to be going. I’d planned to pull a quick U-turn, dodge the truck, and be home free, but it seemed Chuckie had anticipated me.
The nail-jacks shredded my right front tire. I fought the pull, but the Demon swerved to the right, snapped off a light-pole and slammed into a parked car. I rocked forward, then popped backward, being dribbled like a basketball between the airbag and my seat. As soon as the blinding airbag started to deflate, I hit the seatbelt release and swung the door open. "Stay put!"
I hit the street and slid the MP-9 from the door holster. I burned the first clip sweeping a line of fire across the front of the white truck. The windshield fragmented into a million silicon flechettes. Going 80 kph. the truck hit the nail-jacks, blew both front tires and started to skid. When the first rear tire blew, the truck began to roll. The Halloweeners in the back arced through the air like ragdolls launched from a child’s tumbling wagon.
Part of me could not believe Charles had actually planned and carried off an ambush. That he would take this opportunity to protect his turf, and that he arranged things on Westlake made sense. That it worked puzzled me a little. That I’d been caught puzzled me even more.
Then I saw the truth of the whole matter.
Charles had expected invaders to hit Westlake at Pine and roll on through Halloweener territory. The pickup must have been full of Halloweeners who were late for the party, because Charles’ troops had been stationed another 100 meters down Westlake, facing the direction from which they had expected folks running into their domain. They’d jammed a big delivery truck across the street as a roadblock and had gathered debris on the sidewalks to split Westlake in half. The nail-jacks at this end of the street were probably just an afterthought to prevent anyone from attacking from behind.
Popping another clip into the MP-9, I snarled at the Old One. "Now! Give me everything! Do it now!"
With a howl that nearly split my ears, the Old One’s power flooded through me. My movements became faster, stronger, and more fluid. My ears could hear the shouted oaths as Halloweeners scrambled for cover and the frightened whispers of street residents as they came to their windows. The scent of blood and gasoline mingled with the acrid stink of cordite, but the Old One reveled in the stench of battle.
Like a thing possessed, I went to war. Nothing could enable me to dodge bullets, but experience and the Old One’s gifts made it possible for me to dodge the shooters. Most of the gang members I faced just whirled and tightened down on their triggers. Their guns obediently spat out a full clip of bullets, but the recoil sent the muzzle tracking up into the air after the first or second shot.
Three silver bullets punched into the chest of a gillette over on my left. His AK went flying as he backed into a wrought-iron railing and flipped over it. Another gunman dove behind a tin trash can, failing to realize that my n
ine-millimeter bullets had the mass and velocity to punch through the metal as thought it were tissue paper. Two shots sent the dented cylinder rolling back over his dying body.
A snarl from the Old One brought my head up and I saw Charles the Red sprinting across the street only fifty meters away. His wired reflexes made him almost as fast as me, but I could have had him easily. Unfortunately, out of misguided loyalty or a severe death wish, another Halloweener stood on my right and demanded my immediate attention.
The kid emptied his little automatic into my chest. The weapon, which would have been fine in a rumble between T-shirted hooligans battling over the loot from a smash and grab, made five little pops. Its light recoil made it no problem to keep on target. The first bullet slapped into my side with the sting of a bee, but after that, they hit with the power of a weak punch. The Old One stole the pain away and I knew my jacket’s kevlar lining had stopped the bullets from tearing flesh.
My return shot was not so gentle, it hit the kid on the right side, between shoulder and breastbone. It went in through a hole about the size of a penny, but exited through a hole the size of a two-car garage. The boy’s spinning body got caught on a railing and he hung there boneless and dead.
Two other Halloweeners made the dash for the same cover that had whisked Charles out of sight. To me, with the Old One’s help, they looked to be moving in slow motion. The MP-9 swung around and lipped flame at them. The first runner flipped over and collapsed as two bullets pulverized the bone structure in his hips. The second folded over as a bullet cored his belt buckle and pushed it back through his spine.
With five of their members down, an untold number injured in the truck wreck, and an assault coming from their rear, the Halloweeners broke. The Old One howled a challenge and I let it slip from my throat. I continued my dash forward, hoping for another shot at Charles the Red, but I knew, secretly, that if the Halloweeners were running, he'd be at the head of the pack.
The bullet hit my right temple with a wet THWAP! Unable to comprehend what had happened, I saw the world spin around me, then the ground smashed into my back. I bounced once, then half rolled up in a crescent with my arms and legs flopped haphazardly on the tarmac. My mind desperately searched for an explanation of what had happened, because I knew something had gone very wrong on, but words ceased to exist for me.
Lying there. I could think in colors. I could think in scents.
I could think in emotions.
I did my thinking in fear.
My chin rested on my left shoulder. I realized I could only see out of one eye, I could feel the blood trickling down along my nose—not dripping, but trickling like a stream—and I knew I should raise my hand to stop the blood.
I didn’t.
I feared what my hand might discover if I did.
Then, looking back down the way I had come, I saw her. She was a golden outline, with a core I saw as white hot. She held her hands and arms out from her shoulders as if she’d been crucified, but I sensed no weakness in her. The golden nimbus surrounding her pulsed with power. Tongues of magical plasma shot out like solar flares.
She walked down the street at a slow, stately pace, like a goddess among her worshippers. The gas tanks of parked cars exploded in her wake. Lighter cars launched themselves in displays of aerial acrobatics. Heavier vehicles belchcd black smoke and wallowed in their own yellow fire. The cannonade heralded her glorious passage and drove Halloweeners before her like leaves before a gale.
Then a tall, skinny silhouette appeared at my feet. I heard a voice say something, but the hot words had no meaning for me. Still, the ridicule and hatred in his tone came through in shades of black and burning red. His right arm quivered and three argent blades thrust themselves out from his fist. He raised the arm and moonlight glittered from the blades’ finely honed edges.
He laughed aloud and I knew he meant to kill me.
The Lady of Light clapped her hands once. I felt the magic wash over me with the echoes of the sound, but it left me untouched. The skull-faced man standing over me jerked as if an invisible leash had been snapped back, then pitched forward and lay nosing the street. All around me, I heard wails and cries of others whom the magic had touched. I saw them crawling off, cradling artificial arms and legs like useless pieces of metal. Others stumbled blindly along because their miracle-mechanical eyes no longer functioned.
Her arms had returned to her sides and become one with her golden outline. I could not see her face, but I recognized the way she moved. I knew her, but not nearly well enough to banish my fear. Behind her marking her progress, I saw footprints burning in the asphalt.
Other Halloweeners turned their guns on her. Bullets exploded and evaporated as they struck her glowing halo. I saw golden energies lance out to touch guns, exploding their magazines. When the ethereal plasma caressed individuals, their flesh ran like water and their bones burned like dry kindling. I listened to their aborted screams, and felt their terror in my own heart.
As she came closer. I felt her heat but I did not burn at its touch. It enfolded me and accepted me as a friend and ally, but my unrelenting dread demanded I try to escape. Part of me knew I would burst into flame in an instant, and another part of me feared I would not be given that release. With my left eye. I watched her for any sign that she was my savior, but as she knelt by my side, her intense light became too much for me and I let the blackness swallow me.
I surrendered to death's seductive oblivion.
Off in the distance, through the void, I saw a silvery light burning brightly, and I yearned to move forward into its peace. As I tried to walk in that direction, I felt a pain in my right hand. I looked down and saw a massive wolf that was yet darker than the void sink its teeth into my wrist. Muscles bunched in its shoulders and haunches, then it slowly dragged me backward, and the argent light faded away.
I felt a warmth building by my forehead. It increased in heat and size until I imagined it a thunderhead gathering above my brow. Then it focused its energy in a single, massive lightning bolt that arced through me and filled my body to bursting with magical energy. All my muscles convulsed at once and the Old One roared victoriously.
The Old One used the magic and began to reshape me in ways he thought best. At first, I panicked, wanting to stop him, but incapable of thinking of any way to do so. Then, as the magic did its work, and my brain knitted itself back together, I became aware that I was not one with the Wolf Spirit. I recalled who and what I was and that I controlled the body we inhabited.
Taking grim pleasure in the Old One's yelp of frustration, I asserted my dominance and opened my eyes—both eyes.
I felt as though waking from a nightmare, but most of the nightmare landscape still surrounded me. I touched my right hand to my face. My fingers came away bloody, but they discovered nothing out of place or unusual. Somewhere down the block, back along the line of flaming footprints, another car exploded as the burning river of gas flowing along the curb ignited its gas tank.
The Lady of Light, had vanished, but in her place, I found Nadia kneeling beside me. Her whole body shook and perspiration pasted black locks of hair to her forehead. She gulped in ragged breaths of air and firelight leeched the last bit of color from her pallid face. With hands knotted into fists, she hugged her arms around herself and swayed gently to music only she could hear.
I stood, unsteady at first, and wiped my hand on my jeans. Surrounding us was a war zone. Terrified faces filled countless windows and stared down at the bleak street. Broken bodies were strewn haphazardly in pools of their own blood, while the dazed and wounded and maimed cried out or wandered aimlessly in shock.
I reached down and helped Nadia to her feet. "My God, all this?" I stared at her. then brushed the tears from her cheeks. "Are you all right?"
She nodded weakly, then slumped against me, halfconscious. I scooped her up and she hung her arms around my neck. "This is why I ran from Hondisumi, Wolf. This is what they trained me to do."
I
felt a shiver run down my spine. "Your apartment, the explosion. That was you ..."
"Out of practice and out of control." A sob wracked her body. "I created the spells for Hondisumi. I couldn't close my eyes to what use they would surely put them, so I bolted."
I gave her a squeeze. "Don't worry about that now."
She didn’t hear me. "The spell that got the gillettes, it’s a spell only I know. It deionizes the cybernetic neural interface conducting gel. It makes communication between cybernetic equipment and the host impossible. Hondisumi wanted me to develop it to take out a Mitsusumi semi-conductor plant's security force, or so they said. Once I perfected it, however, I knew I had to get away. I knew it would be horrible, and it was."
"I’m glad you found a constructive use for it." I shuddered as a blind Halloweener smashed into a street light. "I’ve got to get you out of here." I looked back down the block at the inferno that engulfed the end of a fallen lamppost. "My Mustang ..."
Nadia gave me a sheepish grin. "It never felt a thing . . ."
"O.K., give me a chance to think." I dropped to one knee and retrieved my MP-9, looping the sling over my shoulder. Then, as I straightened up. I recognized Charles the Red lying face-down in the street. I hooked the toe of my boot under his belly and flipped him over onto his back. He rolled like a wet sack of oatmeal but the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest told me he still lived.
I smiled down at him, savoring the terror in his eyes. "I’m not going to kill you. Chuckles, but don’t think it’s because of some crazy sense of fair play on my part. I just know that nothing I could do to you right now would hurt you as much as having missed your chance to do me."
I carried Nadia further up the block to the Dominion pizza franchise and seated her in one of the chairs in their tiny lobby. I got her some water, which helped revive her and put some color back in her cheeks. While the manager put together something for Nadia to eat, I went into the back and washed the blood off my face. By the time I came back out front, Nadia looked better, but I could see the magicks she’d used had really taken it out of her.
Into the Shadows Page 30