by Platt, Sean
Cameron looked down at his own laptop. At the drive cabled to it — arguably the only one they’d need: a 100TB drive filled with Benjamin’s hodgepodge, disorganized research. Charlie’s records were definitely neater, but Cameron couldn’t shake the feeling that grabbing as much information as possible was overthinking the issue. Benjamin had seemed sure on the drive over that he knew where Thor’s Hammer was hidden — and perhaps more importantly, he’d implied it should be obvious to his son. That told Cameron he either knew or he didn’t. The rest was details.
“Five minutes,” Andreus announced.
He and Coffey headed into the darkness, guns and flashlights ready.
Chapter Eleven
Piper didn’t want to look at Nathan or Jeanine. A schism was forming, with Andreus and Coffey on one side and Cameron, Charlie, and herself on the other. Grace was something else — somewhere in between. Or perhaps more accurately, something like a suitcase. Belongings that one side held close, away from the other.
Piper desperately missed Trevor, enough that the thought was an arrow. She missed Lila and Clara. She missed Meyer, as he’d once been. She understood the desire to protect her own, and if she had those precious last seconds with Trevor back, she’d grab his weapon and yank him into the tunnel even if keeping him inside meant barring the door with her body. But what she saw with Andreus was different. Grace had run from him, and now he seemed unwilling to let her do it again. He’d hold her close, not with love, but with force if necessary. For her own protection. Because, in the big picture, of love.
But the roundabout nature of his affection was twisted, damaged, wrong. Piper didn’t like it. She didn’t like the way Andreus seemed to be wrestling for control of their group, the same way he’d recently commanded his Republic. She didn’t like the way Coffey, who was always armed, stood by his side like a good lieutenant. And she didn’t like the way her girlish fears had handed Andreus and Coffey more ammunition — more proof that the kid, the scientist, and the arm candy woman were unstable, and probably silly. Fools who needed protection, even if they didn’t want it.
Once in the sunlight, the feeling of being watched by the shadow felt far less pressing than it had in the lab. But Cameron had already told Piper that he’d seen something before they’d gone inside. It wasn’t just her. Or the dark that had got to her.
They were being tailed. Somehow. By something they couldn’t see — or, more accurately, couldn’t see directly. It was almost there but not quite, always present but somehow absent.
Once away from Moab with their horde, Piper found Cameron sitting on a rock while Charlie culled Benjamin’s data. Cameron was approaching this far more metaphysically than even Piper would have. He seemed sure that the data mattered, but not in finding Thor’s Hammer. It would help them reach the weapon, but finding was already within him. Benjamin had told him as much before dying, laughing at his son’s lack of vision.
Piper looked at Cameron’s profile. His stubble was almost a beard — but not really because Cameron’s face still belonged to a teenager. His perpetually young look made the stubble more odd than rugged.
She followed his eyes to the mothership above the ranch, now in the distance. Even from here, it was massive. A silver moon that had grown full too near the ground, its swelling metal belly seeming to hang like something pregnant.
Piper said, “If you stare at the ship long enough, the answer will come.”
Without moving his head, Cameron replied, “I’m not staring at the ship.”
She sat beside him. He was, indeed, looking directly at the ship.
“What’s it doing here, Cam?”
“Suckling. Recharging. I don’t know. Can you see the beam coming from the stone arch my dad was always checking out?”
In the bright sun, the beam was hard to see. But then it became easier.
“Yes. From the money pit.”
“Maybe it’s trying to reconnect to the network. Maybe soon, they’ll lay more stones and start again.”
“You think Canned Heat affected them, too?”
Cameron chewed his cheek, his gaze still unblinking. After a thoughtful pause, he said, “I get this feeling that what affects us affects them automatically.”
“Why?”
“It’s just a feeling.”
Piper understood, in a way. She’d had a feeling earlier, having to do with the vengeance at Little Cottonwood Canyon as somehow related to Meyer, his connection to Divinity, and the way it had changed him. And, perhaps most importantly, the way he’d stayed the same.
“How long are you going to stare at that ship?”
“I told you. I’m not staring at the ship.”
Again, Piper compared Cameron’s profile to his line of sight.
“Have a seat,” he said.
Piper did.
“Look at the ship.”
Piper did that, too.
“Now let your eyes settle. Don’t focus. Just let the muscles relax. Look through the ship more than at it.”
“Okay.”
“Now without looking away, see if you can check your peripheral vision. To the right. At the base of that big outcropping. And tell me I’m not crazy.”
Piper followed Cameron’s directions. The first few times she tried, her eyes wanted to look at the outcropping full on, and she had to start again. Then she got the trick of seeing into the corners without actually looking, and —
Piper jumped, breath catching in her throat.
“So you see it.”
Piper took a calming breath and gazed back at the ship. She let her eyes defocus. It was still there, right where Cameron had said: a shape like a large dog, an ink-black shadow with nothing to cast it. When she turned to look directly at it, the shadow was gone, but when she merely caught it sidelong, the shape was clear as day. The kind of thing that couldn’t be unseen. The kind of thing that would, she felt sure, visit her nightmares.
“I see it.”
“Is that what was inside the lab?”
“I think so. What is it?”
Cameron gave a tiny shake of his head. “I don’t know. But I think I saw it outside, when we first got near the mothership, before we went in. You saw it inside, and now it’s out here.”
“It’s following us.”
“Grace didn’t react when we mentioned it. She’s been hiding in that lab for days. If it had been there, you’d think she’d have seen it. That makes me think we brought it with us.”
Piper found the shape again. She didn’t like seeing the thing, so she blinked away, looking at the formation’s base directly. And of course there was nothing there.
“Is it like the BB?”
“Maybe. But my gut says no.”
“What do we do? Try tricking it like before?”
“You know what they say about fool me once, fool me twice,” Cameron said.
“I don’t think we can. I think this is something else. Not a drone. Whatever that is, it’s alive. It’s awake. And even when we forget to look, it’s paying attention.”
Piper’s eyes strayed to the ship. The giant sphere that had once been elsewhere before returning to Moab for reasons unknown. It must have dropped the troops that destroyed the lab, just enough to let the humans do their jobs as unwitting translators.
The Astrals had played the humans once, too. And just as the aliens wouldn’t be fooled twice, Piper didn’t particularly want to be played again, either.
“It left the lab so we’d be able to figure out where the Templars put Thor’s Hammer and how to get at it,” Cameron said.
“I assumed. So what do we do?”
“We solve the puzzle,” Cameron said. “Then lead them to it.”
Chapter Twelve
Christopher did a double take while passing the network center, on his way to check the roof’s dish. He saw a big black circle with eyes in its middle, like a black Pac-Man, then realized he was seeing Terrence’s hair, after having made peace with the idea that it was gone f
orever.
“Terrence?”
There were two Titans, two humans, and two Reptars watching Terrence work. The guards were arranged in a semicircle, paired like a Noah’s Ark of security personnel.
“Oh. Hey, Christopher.”
The lack of recognition was disarming. Last Christopher heard, Terrence had been sent up to the mothership on something dire enough to raise Raj’s dander. But now that Terrence was free and working on computers under the literal gun, Raj was nowhere to be seen, and Meyer’s orders meant nothing. Christopher had no idea what side he was supposed to be on, where everyone’s allegiances lay, and whether he himself was in trouble. When the bad guys became the good guys and the bad guys’ allies made the good guys work while the bad guys vanished …
Well, Christopher was confused enough.
“You’re … here,” he said, giving the most neutral, noncommittal answer.
“Yes.” Terrence looked at Christopher, seeming to wonder if he could trust him. “I’m here.”
“It’s good to see you.”
This was stupid. Christopher felt like a person talking on a tapped phone line. The Reptars were standing down but glaring with their yellow eyes. Meyer would shit when he saw that; Reptars were strictly outside-the-home security. The Titans were watching the men with bland interest, and the house guards were eyeing Christopher with a mix of respect and skepticism. Christopher was second in command only to Raj, and first in command until recently because Raj never used his authority. Still, Terrence was a prisoner, and Christopher knew him from way back. The guards might be for Christopher or against him. It was a knot with too many loose ends.
“Good to see you too, Chris.”
“Maybe you can take a break. From …” He looked at Terrence’s position: kneeling on the network center floor, doors propped open, a cowling of some sort removed from one of the large machines, his tattooed arms up to the wrists in jumbled wires.
“From what the Commander of the Guard told me to do, of course.”
“Of course.”
Christopher looked at the humans. “Take five.”
“Sorry, Captain,” said Francis, one of the humans. “We’re under orders to stay by his side.”
“Francis, it’s me.”
“Sorry, sir.”
Before Christopher could protest more, a voice came from behind. Overhead lights flickered, and this time they stayed dead for a full beat. It was as if the voice, at Christopher’s rear, had turned the lights on and off to keep everyone quiet, like in kindergarten.
“Christopher.”
Christopher turned. “Raj.”
“Maybe it’s time you started calling me by my title.”
“Raj,” Christopher repeated.
Raj regarded Christopher, apparently wondering if the fight was worth it. It must not have been because instead of insisting, he wandered away, farther down the hallway. When he looked back, Christopher intuited he was supposed to follow. It was his turn to decide if it was a power play worth resisting.
It wasn’t. Not with all the thin ice.
“He’s fixing what he broke,” Raj said, answering Christopher’s unasked question.
“Can he do that? Mo says it’s everywhere. Out on the Internet, even.”
“With help, he can.”
“I came to adjust the dish. Thought that might help.”
Raj rolled his eyes with pure drama. Apparently, that had been the stupidest thing Christopher could have said.
“They don’t need the dish. Are you kidding me?”
“I didn’t know the Astrals were helping.”
“Of course they’re helping, Christopher. Contrary to what some seem to feel lately, we’re in this together.”
“Jons is asking for Viceroy Dempsey.”
“Did anyone bother to tell him that the viceroy is dead?”
“We didn’t have a conversation. It was a request, for the guards. I’ll tell him when I get there, but no, it didn’t seem necessary to send someone on an extra trip by foot, with the network out.”
“Police Captain Jons sent word through you?”
“Me and Trevor. But Trevor isn’t around, so yes, through me.” Something in Raj’s face bothered Christopher. He wanted to punch it more than usual. He fought the urge to add, Is that a problem for you? But something in that cocky bearing made him hold it in.
“Okay. Run to Jons.”
“Not just me, Raj.” He was struck by sudden inspiration, eyes flicking to Terrence, who could use a bit of time without the asshole on his back. “He wants to talk to you, too.”
“Why?”
“You’re commander, aren’t you?”
“For now. You can handle it, Captain.”
“There’s a grid issue. The Apex is drawing a bunch of power. With the network out, it’s sucking from the lines, like charging a phone by plugging it into a computer.”
“So?”
“I don’t know this shit … sir. Maybe you’d better come to explain why a glass pyramid is pulling power the city needs, now especially.”
“What makes this my problem? The Astrals can draw whatever power they want. This is their city.”
“Did you know the Apex even uses power?”
Raj looked like he was deciding whether or not he should admit to something. He glanced back at Terrence, maybe realizing that the man, who was trying to clean his own mess, must already know. It was hard to tell in the sunlight, but after getting the message, Christopher had looked at the Apex to see if he could see what Jons had reported. Sure enough, the thing was pulsing like a power indicator. It wasn’t normally lit, yet now it was alight as if struggling to get what it needed. Something wired below the city in ways no one had noticed before.
“Yes. I helped design the network,” Raj said. “Our part anyway.”
“What power does it need?”
“I don’t see how that’s your concern.”
Christopher shrugged. “I just want to know what I should tell Jons.”
“Tell him to mind his own fucking business.”
“Sure. But hey, you’re the one who said we should all work together — us and the Astrals. Jons has his geeks working from the city side. You’re on the hub here. But the Apex? If we keep treating it like an unknown …”
“It’s an antenna of some sort,” Raj blurted.
“They told you that.”
“It’s obvious. It’s also the reason you adjusting dishes is pointless. You can see it in the logs and usage. They’re connected to it some other way, but it’s fed into the grid, too. With our power off, it’s probably acting as a sink.”
“Can we just cut it off then, if it has its own power?”
“I …” He looked at Terrence. “I don’t know.”
“Really. Okay. I’ll tell Jons you don’t know anything.”
Raj’s jaw set. “I’m staying here. Tell Jons to leave the Apex connection alone until he hears otherwise. I’m watching what Terrence is doing, and he won’t try anything funny unless he wants summary execution. Until then, if the Apex is pulling power from what Jons is supervising, tough shit.”
“If that’s what you want.”
“It’s what I want.”
Christopher turned, feeling himself dismissed, and walked back toward the stairs.
“Oh, and Captain?” Raj said from behind him.
Christopher turned.
“I know that you and Terrence are good friends.”
Christopher considered denying. Instead, meeting Raj’s greedy little eyes, he nodded.
“If he can’t fix this, I just want you to know that I’m holding you responsible as well.”
Christopher felt his patience snap. “How the hell can you—”
“And Captain?”
Christopher held his tongue, his internal temperature rising.
“I suggest you don’t stop by to see Lila on the way to Jons.”
Christopher bit his lip. With Meyer gone, the Astrals mum, and the
city going dark, there was no way to know who’d end up as the new man on top. Raj thought it’d be him, by rook if not by right. If that happened, given what Raj seemed to have done to Meyer, Terrence’s work might as well include digging his own grave. And he’d be digging one for Christopher, too.
Instead of replying, Christopher turned and left without a word.
He passed the big window to the Apex on his way, stopping a moment to watch it pulse, wondering what possible signals the big blue antenna might be sending.
Chapter Thirteen
The trick of seeing the shadow was like rolling a quarter across the knuckles for show. Once Piper had it figured out, she couldn’t stop trying while Cameron puzzled over their retrieved drives. The difference was that this particular trick chilled her, and distracting Cameron to point out its movements (closer, farther, circling around as if trying to get a better angle on what they were doing) felt like an awful idea. They’d come to dig into Benjamin’s research. Nathan wanted to move on now that they’d left the labs — perhaps to study the data away from the mothership’s eye — but Cameron was more practical: They didn’t know if they had the information required to find Thor’s Hammer. As long as the lab was still standing with potential evidence inside, they should keep it close. They might need to go back … but for what was a constant question below the group’s skin, with everyone afraid to ask.
Piper blinked in the sun, telling herself that her eyes were on the ship and lab, not the shadow with no substance. Not the thing she felt compelled to watch even though it made her flesh crawl, because not knowing where it might be was so much worse.
Piper jumped when Charlie came up behind her.
“Charlie!” A few breaths. “I didn’t see you there.”
“It occurs to me that the situation may be different than we imagine.”
Piper waited for more. There was none.
“Why’s that, Charlie?”
“Benjamin said that the Templars left clues like a scavenger hunt. I can’t read runes and I don’t have his history background, so I tended to take his word.”