Sepia Blue-Sisters: A Sepia Blue Thriller

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  Calisto disappeared as Sepia pushed off the wall and continued down the passage. The pain racked her body and caused her to stumble several times. Her eye glowed, casting green light all around her, despite her glasses. The shadows danced on the walls as she kept going forward.

  One more step. Just need to take one more step.

  Her ink flared, suffusing her body in warmth. The sound of bursting rock filled the passage. She turned to see the head of the behemoth through a gap in the debris. She heard the growls of the Dreadwolves behind it. In moments, they would be rushing down the passage to destroy her.

  “Hunter,” the behemoth said, “I will show you the same courtesy you showed our Lord.”

  Raising her arm, Sepia extended her middle finger in response before bringing her hand to her face and covering her eye with a gasp.

  The behemoth laughed.

  “Feeling pain, Hunter?” it said. “I will end it for you.”

  Sepia stumbled into a half-jog down the passage, away from the Unholy and into mind-numbing pain.

  *******

  Wake landed in the water and swam to the edge. A group of three Dreadwolves waited for her as she emerged from the underground lake.

  She stepped silently to the side and unsheathed two knives. The Dreadwolves tracked her movement, their eyes reflecting the dim light of the cavern. They began to snarl. She flicked her wrists, sending silent death in their direction. She removed and threw the remaining knife before the other two reached their targets. The knives buried themselves in the eyes of the Dreadwolves, silencing them. She sat down hard on the cool stone.

  “That was impressive,” Calisto said from behind her. “Why are you here?”

  Wake turned with a knife in her fingers. She narrowed her eyes when she saw Calisto.

  “Who are you?” Wake asked, still holding the knife. “I’m looking for Sepia…and the rift.”

  “You’ve found both, but you’re in no condition to travel to the rift,” Calisto said, looking at her leg.

  Ursa padded up behind Calisto and sat by her side.

  “Ursa will keep watch over you until I return,” she said. “Your journey must end here.”

  Wake groaned as she shifted her weight off the wounded leg. Calisto placed a hand on it.

  “Remain still,” Calisto said. “A Dreadwolf bite is a serious matter. The poison in their saliva will paralyze your muscles and kill you once it reaches your heart and diaphragm.”

  Wake stopped moving. Calisto applied a tourniquet to the leg and removed the bandage, replacing it with a new one after looking at the wound.

  “How bad?” Wake asked as she inhaled sharply while the bandage was replaced.

  “It’s not good,” Calisto answered. “Dreadwolf poison acts quickly. Soon the wound will become infected. I don’t know how you made it this far. You should be dead by now.”

  Wake slumped back and lay down on the cool stone floor.

  “How long?”

  “If you don’t move, an hour, maybe two,” Calisto said. “It seems your body is resisting the poison in the saliva, but it will overcome your defenses, eventually.”

  “Is Sepia close?”

  “Just down that corridor.” Calisto pointed to the side. “You just missed the behemoth.”

  “Lucky me,” Wake said and tried to sit up. Ursa gave a low growl and pushed her pack with a huge paw.

  “Ursa is right,” Calisto said. “Don’t try and get up. I need to get back to Sepia. What is your name?”

  “Wake—my name is Wake,” she whispered. “I need to get to Sepia.”

  “That will have to wait,” Calisto said as she put a hand on her forehead and looked at Ursa.

  “Protect her, Ursa,” Calisto said. “I have a feeling she will be important to Sepia.”

  Calisto disappeared as Ursa curled around Wake’s prone body.

  TWENTY

  Gan arrived at the scene and took in the carnage. All five team members were dead. Their body parts filled the street as he looked around for Reed. He pulled out his phone as he scanned the slaughter.

  “Get a cleaning crew on my location,” he said. “Five bodies—no survivors.”

  What route did you take, Reed?

  Gan looked at the coordinates again. He noted that the z-axis indicated elevation. Gan looked up.

  On the rooftops.

  Gan arrived on the roof several minutes later. He saw Reed lying in a pool of blood.

  He crouched and checked for a pulse, and found one.

  They left you intact, why?

  “Reed, come back, Reed,” Gan said as he moved him from the blood.

  Reed regained consciousness and opened his eyes slowly.

  “What happened?”

  “I couldn’t let them die, sir,” Reed answered. “The Dreadwolves had them cornered. It was a trap.”

  “So you warned them, didn’t you?” Gan said.

  Reed nodded and looked away.

  “I screwed up, sir.”

  “And gave away your location to whomever was waiting for the sword,” Gan said, his voice growing hard. “No, you didn’t screw up. This is so beyond a screw-up there are no words. Did you get a look at the mole? Did you see his face?”

  “No, sir,” Reed said. “But it’s a she, sir.”

  “What?”

  “The mole—it’s a woman. She spoke to me, sir,” Reed answered. “Right before the Shadows attacked me.”

  “Shadows…you say she spoke to you?” Gan asked. “I want you to try and remember what she said as exactly as you can.”

  Reed closed his eyes and then answered.

  “Told me I should have obeyed orders,” Reed started. “She found me the moment I started speaking on the com channel with the team. Said the team was expendable and that you knew.”

  “Anything else?” Gan asked. “Did she say anything about what she wanted the sword for?”

  “No, sir,” Reed answered. “Was she right, sir? Did you set them up to die?”

  Gan crouched down and brought his face close to Reed.

  “A named blade is now in the hands of the Unholy,” Gan whispered. “The transport team knew the risks, as did you.”

  “But they weren’t carrying the sword—I was,” Reed said. “It was pointless.”

  “Pointless?” Gan asked. “You had one job—get the sword to its destination. No life was or is more important than that mission, which you failed.”

  “They were a distraction?”

  Gan stood and took a deep breath before turning back to face Reed.

  “They were a decoy,” Gan said. “That was their purpose. To give you the window of opportunity to deliver the sword. Now the Unholy have it and I don’t know why, Reed. It’s clear they tried to kill you. I am inclined to finish what they started.”

  Reed remained silent as Gan grabbed his phone again and dialed.

  “Bring in a medic team—and restraints,” Gan said.

  “Restraints?” Reed asked. “Why?”

  “Forensics will study the scene, and until I find out different you are suspended until further notice.”

  “Sir?”

  “I have some nagging questions, Agent Reed.”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “The Unholy healed you and left you alive, why?”

  “They want you to think I did this,” Reed said. “I’m not a traitor.”

  “You disobeyed a direct order,” Gan started. “And your actions are directly responsible for the loss of a named blade. A blade that belongs to someone close to me.”

  “Sir—I,”

  Gan raised his hand, silencing Reed.

  “You wanted to know about the restraints, now you know. Get downstairs,” Gan said.

  “Yes, sir,” Reed said and stood slowly.

  He made his way to the stairwell and descended. Gan remained on the rooftop. He examined the drying pool of blood.

  Whoever it is has access to the coms and encrypted files. It narrows the list, but not enoug
h. This mole is going to get us killed.

  TWENTY-ONE

  When Calisto reappeared, Sepia had her hand over her left eye and used the wall to navigate her way down the passage. Behind them, the behemoth was breaking down the wall of debris.

  “The witch can’t help you, Hunter,” the behemoth’s voice reverberated in the passage. Its laughter sounded like the grinding of stone as it chipped away at the debris.

  Calisto grabbed Sepia by the arm and helped her remain on her feet as she continued.

  “You don’t need my help,” Calisto said. “You can’t give in to the pain.”

  “It’s too much,” Sepia said. “I’m going to die in here.”

  Calisto tightened her grip on Sepia’s arm.

  “If you give up, then you may as well let the behemoth have you now,” Calisto said, angry. “But you are a Hunter and Emiko’s daughter so get your shit together—now.”

  Sepia stiffened at the mention of her mother’s name. She turned to look at Calisto, who held her gaze without wavering.

  “I need my sword,” Sepia said. “I need Perdition.”

  “Listen to me,” Calisto said roughly. “You are a Hunter, with or without a named blade. You are a Hunter, so start acting like it.”

  Sepia nodded and pushed off the wall as she groaned in pain. She took a few uncertain steps and continued down.

  “Thank you,” Sepia said. “Perdition would have helped, but I needed to hear that.”

  “I know, but you’ll have to do this without it,” Calisto answered. “Now hurry, I think they will be joining us soon.”

  They arrived at the bottom of the passage. Sepia turned as the crashing of stone filled the space and debris flew in every direction. The behemoth shattered through the wall and was lumbering down the passage. Dreadwolves raced around its legs with Fang leading the pack.

  “Shit,” Sepia said as she drew her warded knife.

  “We must part here,” Calisto said. “I will delay them as long as possible. You must get past the rift in order to find a way out.”

  “You can’t face them alone,” Sepia whispered. “They’ll kill you.”

  “I’m not without my resources,” Calisto answered with a tight smile. “You can help me by getting past the rift.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  It was evening as Marks and Nathan stood in front of the closed public library on 42nd Street. Behind the library rested a large lawn. Beneath the lawn, unknown to most, except the Order, sat the Bryant Park Archive.

  “Why was it sealed off?” Marks asked as he walked up the steps with Nathan beside him.

  “You’re an Overseer and you don’t know?” Nathan answered.

  “Enlighten me.”

  “Decades ago there was huge battle on this site, on the lawn,” Nathan said. “Many Hunters died that day. It was a black day for the Order.”

  “During the day?” Marks asked. “Who were they fighting?”

  Nathan nodded and continued.

  “Yes, during the day, and they were fighting the Unholy.”

  “Attacking during the day, they must have been strong,” Marks said.

  “Rumors are they were being led by a Nightmare Lord but no one saw him.”

  “What were they after?”

  “They wanted some artifact from the archive,” Nathan answered. “Anyway, the battle destabilized the archive and it had to be closed.”

  Were they after the keystone?

  “Why weren’t the artifacts moved?” Marks asked as they approached the side door. “Items that dangerous should have been moved to Home.”

  “After the battle, most of the structure collapsed,” Nathan said. “Regional thought it was safer to just seal the entire archive with the artifacts inside. Moving them would have been too dangerous.”

  They reached the side entrance. The double doors gleamed in the evening light. Ornate ironwork covered both the doors. Nathan stepped to the side and made room for Marks.

  “I don’t have the clearance to open this, especially not after-hours,” he said. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  Marks stepped to the entrance and placed his hand on the center of the right door. A few seconds passed and nothing happened. Nathan let out an audible breath.

  “Maybe it just doesn’t—?” Nathan began.

  Counterweights moved and shifted as the locks slid to one side. The door opened slowly inward, revealing a dark corridor.

  “Nathan, I don’t expect you to understand what I’m doing,” Marks said, stepping into the library. “But the actions I’m taking today will rid us of the threat of the Unholy. Can you imagine not having them in the center of our city?”

  “No,” Nathan said as he walked behind Marks. “The Unholy have been there for centuries, but I hope you’re right and we get out of here…alive.”

  They continued walking and some of the sconces on the wall began to flicker with a subtle yellow light. The light grew in intensity until the entire corridor was well lit.

  Marks looked at Nathan, who returned the look with a shrug.

  “They do that automatically, part of the design,” he said. “Do you know what we are looking for?”

  Marks walked over to one of the side tables that sat in the corridor every several feet. He pulled out the map and pointed to the corner circled in red.

  “What I need is there,” Marks said.

  Nathan took a step back, his face a grim mask.

  “If we go in there, we aren’t coming back,” Nathan said. “That area was used to keep the Unholy artifacts.”

  “Precisely. I need something called a keystone,” Marks said. “You’re going to help me get it.”

  “This is suicide, Overseer, you can’t touch that thing,” Nathan answered. “That thing belongs to a Nightmare Lord. It killed at least five archivists just getting secured!”

  “Then you know where it is…good,” Marks said. “Do I need to remind you what will happen if you don’t cooperate?”

  “It’s the lowest level—section C, behind a warded containment area,” Nathan said, defeated. “You can’t touch it.”

  “Why is it warded?” Marks asked.

  “When they first got it they thought the Unholy would try and take it so they placed it in a series of concentric wards,” Nathan said. “It was meant to stop even the most powerful of them from getting it back.”

  “Are these wards still in effect?” Marks asked. “Will they affect us?”

  “Are you Unholy?”

  Marks smiled. “Only on some days,” Marks said. “Lead the way.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  “The Hunter is of no use to you,” Calisto said. “Leave her be.”

  She placed an arrow in the bow and aimed at the behemoth.

  “I have no quarrel with you, witch,” the behemoth answered. “The Hunter is ours, she belongs to us.”

  “She belongs to no one,” Calisto whispered as she released the diamond-tipped arrow. “Now die.”

  The behemoth shifted to the side to try to avoid the arrow. It buried itself in the behemoth’s chest. The roar of pain shook the passage. Calisto smiled as she formed a fist and caused the debris at the mouth of the passage to float lazily in the air. With a swipe of her arm, projectiles raced down the passage and into the Dreadwolves.

  The behemoth ripped the arrow out of its chest and ran down at her. Calisto raised a stone wall and closed off the passage. The behemoth burst through her defense, destroying the wall in seconds.

  I’m too close to the rift.

  With another swipe, most of the Dreadwolves lay dead or dying. Those who escaped the barrage raced back up the passage. Calisto trapped them with another gesture. The behemoth was almost on top of her.

  “Your abilities won’t work on me, witch,” it said. “The Hunter is claimed. Why do you fight for her?”

  Calisto nocked three arrows and released them as the behemoth closed in.

  “Because the Unholy need to be stopped,” she said as the behemot
h slammed a fist into her body. The blow sent her flying back and into the wall of the passage. The sick crunch of bone filled the air. The behemoth took several dragging steps before falling to the ground. Two of the arrows had missed their mark, but the third had entered its eye and destroyed most of its head, killing it.

  Calisto lay on the ground with blood escaping her lips. Several of her ribs were broken. Ursa appeared next to her with the body of Wake in his jaws.

  “Ursa, no,” Calisto said and coughed. “You shouldn’t have used so much power.”

  Ursa growled and nuzzled Calisto.

  “Don’t we make a sorry bunch,” Calisto said as she laid her head on Ursa. “You have to get help.”

  Ursa gave a low growl and pushed Calisto’s hand with his muzzle. Calisto gave Ursa a gentle push.

  “You have to go outside, go get him,” Calisto said, and coughed for several seconds before spitting up blood. Ursa bounded away and disappeared.

  *******

  “What are you doing here, Hunter?” the voice said.

  Sepia dragged her left side as she walked. Her left arm hung limp by her side and her left leg shuffled with each step. Her left eye acted like a beacon as she navigated the darkness. She had long since given up trying to cover it, allowing the light to spill out in front of her.

  “I need to get past,” Sepia said. “I need to get through.”

  Laughter echoed around her. Sepia looked and found herself in a large chamber. On the side opposite her, she could just make out an exit. In the center of the chamber stood a figure unlike anything she had ever seen. It seemed to be a man enveloped in light and flames. The color matched the green coming from her eye, but would shift hue every few seconds into lighter and darker shades.

  “How do you intend to get through me, Hunter?”

  “Through you? What are you?” Sepia said, squinting at the figure. “You’re not real.”

  “Oh, I’m real enough,” the figure said. “How’s the pain?”

  “Excruciating, but I’m guessing you knew that,” Sepia answered.

  “It will pass,” it said. “I must say, I’m surprised to see you upright. Most at your caliber of power would be catatonic or dead by now, this close to the rift. You are truly your mother’s daughter.”