Shamrock nodded and headed for the staircase.
“You had a message for me?” Faultline asked the woman at the front desk. “Room 202.”
“Yes. A phone number.”
Faultline nodded. She took the piece of paper with the number, then stepped outside to call it on her cell.
The person on the other end of the phone picked up on the first ring.
“Yes?” Faultline spoke into the phone
“This is Tattletale,” the voice came through.
“Fuck me.” Faultline groaned. “How the hell did you find us?”
“Long story.”
“What do you want? We’re not available for any jobs.”
“Don’t want to hire you for a job. In fact, bringing your guys into the current situation would be a fucking bad idea. Pretty much all of you are… well, let’s say it’d do more harm than good.”
“You’re wasting my time, Tattletale.”
“It’s been a long night. Cut me some slack. I want to borrow Labyrinth. I don’t care how many of the rest of you come. Non-combat situation, use her powers.”
Faultline paused. “Why do you want her?”
“Because I have a group of people here with very little to lose and nothing left to hope for, and I need them on our side. I think Labyrinth can give them what they want.”
“Labyrinth’s powerful, but I can’t imagine any situation where she’d be able to give anyone what they wanted. Her power’s temporary. The kind of stuff you could do with her power… there’s easier ways. Other people you could go to.”
“I think,” Tattletale said, and she managed to sound condescending, “That I understand her power better than you do.”
Faultline considered hanging up.
She sighed, then raised the phone back to her ear. “You wouldn’t be baiting me if you didn’t think you could get away with it. Cut to the chase. What are you offering?”
“Three point four million.”
Faultline blinked. Her surprise at the sum was tempered only by irritation that Tattletale had managed to get her hands on that kind of money. “Double it.”
“Done,” Tattletale said.
A little too fast. I’d think she was lying, but that’s not why she was so fast. She expected me to make a counteroffer. Probably decided the first amount with that in mind.
Faultline grit her teeth in annoyance. “I want it in advance.”
“Sure,” Tattletale said, sounding far too pleased with herself. “And done.”
A little too fast, again. She had that set up, damn her. “You have my account information?”
“Coil did. Don’t worry about it.”
Faultline hung up in irritation. She considered taking the money and refusing the job, but she -and Tattletale- knew her reputation as a mercenary was too important.
Should have refused.
She made a beeline for her hotel room. She’d need to check the account information, then move funds to an account Tattletale didn’t know about.
A glance at the display above the elevator showed that it hadn’t moved. Faster to take the stairs to the next floor than to wait.
Her heart skipped a beat when she heard the screaming. Faultline flew up the stairs to the door, pushed her way into the second floor, and raced down the hallway to the hotel rooms.
There was blood on the door as she pushed it open.
How to even take this sort of thing in? How to describe it?
Her team had been destroyed.
Gregor was in the kitchen, on his back. His chest heaved, and he’d covered much of his upper body in a foaming slime. What she could make of his face was contorted in pain, scalded a tomato red that was already blistering.
One of Newter’s arms, one of his legs and his tail had each been broken in multiple places. The remains of the coffee table, the flatscreen television and one door of the television stand lay around him, where he’d sprawled into them.
Matryoshka had unfolded into a mess of ribbons, but knives from the belt Faultline had removed to go down to the lobby had her pinned to the wall in six different places.
Labyrinth was the one screaming, steady, almost rhythmically, with little emotion to it. From the lack of affect, Faultline might have assumed she was in shock, but it was simply the fugue from her power. A small mercy – two thin cuts marked her face, and one hand was impaled to the armrest of the couch by another of the small knives.
Shamrock was busy giving Spitfire a tracheotomy. A fedora filled with slime was plastered to the younger girl’s face, and she was struggling weakly. Shamrock’s own face was covered in blood from nose to chin, and her efforts to administer the tracheotomy were limited as the fingers of one hand were bent at awkward angles.
“The woman in the suit,” Faultline said, dropping to Spitfire’s side. She noted the slime. Gregor’s. And Gregor had been burned with Spitfire’s breath? “Power thief?”
Shamrock let Faultline take over, positioning the clear plastic tube that was sticking into the hole in Spitfire’s throat. She had to spit blood out of her mouth before speaking, “No. I don’t know. She came in here and took us apart in twenty seconds. We didn’t touch her.”
Spitfire coughed, then started breathing at a more normal rate. She gave Faultline two pats on the wrist, calmer. A signal of thanks?
“Super speed? Super strength?” Faultline asked.
“No. Don’t think,” Shamrock spat blood onto the floor. She tried to stand and failed, put one hand to her leg. “Nothing I could see.”
“A thinker power. Precognition? No, that wouldn’t work with your power. Fuck!” Faultline scrambled to her feet, hurried to Labyrinth’s side. “Hey, Elle, calm down. It’s okay, it’s over. Stop screaming.”
Labyrinth shut her mouth, whimpered. The cuts to the face were thin. They’d heal with little to no scarring. The hand-
Faultline stopped. There was a piece of paper beneath the hand.
She helped Labyrinth raise her hand where it was impaled, leaving the knife in place.
The bloodstained piece of paper had a message on the underside.
Final warning.
-c
18.z (Interlude; Echidna)
“Scout it,” Noelle gave the order. “Recuperate while we wait.”
Marissa sent a hawk flying through the dense foliage. Noelle could feel that dull thrum of adrenaline, feel as though time had slowed down, her perceptions and reaction times cranked up to the maximum as she assessed every skeleton and bog zombie between her team and the hawk’s ultimate destination – a clearing with a withered crone standing idle in the center.
Everything was a clue, the placement the enemy had chosen for each unit crucial, because it would force them to maneuver one way or another. Was that treasure chest placed at the back of the swamp-dungeon because the enemy Overlord had wanted to put it as far out of reach as possible or was it because he wanted to bait them into a trap on that side of the room?
It would be impossible to guess from that one clue alone, but the position of the monsters, lighter on that end of the room-
“Stay to the right,” she ordered.
There were reports of assent from the others.
Like being aware one was dreaming without actually disturbing the dream, it was a rare thing to be in the zone and to be aware she was in the zone. She knew she was right.
“Cody, go ranged.”
Cody’s Highwayman sheathed his rapier and drew twin pistols from his belt.
“Luke, wind magic, wind spirits. Dimplecheeks doesn’t usually use casters as an overlord, but he’ll stick to old habits. He’ll have teleportation. Mars, circle around, poke at her from range. Go!”
They charged into the clearing. The hag, Dimplecheeks, summoned two Über demons as they breached the threshold, then teleported to the far end of the room. Luke’s shaman was already setting down wind spirits who were spewing forth miniature tornadoes, casting out gusts of wind that would accelerate his team and slo
w down or push their enemies.
“Enemy team just turned around,” Jess reported. “They’re backtracking for the portal. They’re going to invade en-masse.”
“Fuck,” Noelle said. Her mind was racing, covering a dozen factors at once – positioning her Challenger to best benefit her allies in the fight, avoiding the hag’s spells, calculating the damage her team was doing, keeping track of her items, and those of her team. “How many rooms?”
“They were one room past portal, they’ll be entering around now.”
Ten seconds at best. “We can’t kill her before they show.”
“Want me to send troops?” Jess asked.
“No. Fortify your dungeon. If they take us out, you hold them off.”
“You know my boss monster isn’t that strong. They’re only three rooms from fighting it.”
“Hold them off,” Noelle said.
Sure enough, the enemy appeared at the entryway of the boss room. Her team was hurt from the fight with the hag, and the enemy team hadn’t ventured far enough in to burn all of their resources.
Dying was inevitable. That didn’t mean that their efforts were futile. She had to slow them down- She challenged the enemy’s Chronomancer to a one-on-one duel, consequently shrugged off the vast majority of the damage the remainder of the enemy inflicted, and charged to close the distance to strike the mage down in three blows.
She challenged the hag the second her target was down, landed two good hits, dropping their target to a third of her total health.
Then Cody fell, with Luke falling shortly after.
Noelle managed to use her own body to absorb the worst of the enemy attacks while Marissa ‘kited’ across the area’s perimeter, maintaining a consistent distance as she fired arrows at them.
Caught between the approaching enemy and a cloud of poison fog the hag had cast, Mars chose to rush through the latter. Her health dropped to zero and she collapsed.
“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Cody was shouting. He kicked something.
It was as though Cody’s tantrum were happening in a very distant place. Noelle’s focus was entirely on slowing the enemy down. She challenged the enemy’s barbarian, because he did the lowest damage and everyone she didn’t challenge would do less damage to her. She took a swig of the potion she still had in her inventory from the start of the game. It wouldn’t restore even five percent of her health, but there was a dim possibility that it would force the enemy to land just one more attack. Take a half second, or invest a few magic points into an ability to catch her. Magic points they couldn’t use to take Jess on.
The three remaining enemy heroes bum-rushed her, cutting off her fighting retreat and forcing her into one location. The hag landed a toxin-bomb on her, and her health disappeared in an instant. The screen turned to shades of crimson and black, and a timer appeared in the dead center.
Forty five seconds to respawn. The enemy players were surrounded in flares of light. Level ups. It would make up for the expense of passing through the portal. It had been a good maneuver, perfectly timed, so they could disengage from Jess’ own forces and backtrack through her dungeon.
“Fuck!” Cody shouted.
Cody would take thirty seconds to respawn. Thirty to forty-five seconds before they spawned at the checkpoint…
No, the enemy’s bandit was backtracking through the dungeon. Hacking away at the checkpoint flag.
Now twenty to thirty-five seconds before they spawned at the dungeon entrance.
She watched the clock count down, bought new items, continued to watch the clock.
Cody respawned.
“Go!” she shouted.
Luke appeared soon after. So did the enemy Chronomancer, in Jess’ checkpoint room. The enemy was on the second to last room, dispatching goblin grenadiers and goblin gunners, fighting their way past the trenches Jess had laid down.
They defeated the last of the monsters. The blood gate was satisfied and opened, giving them free rein to fight Jess’ end boss, an ogre king.
The boss Dimplecheeks had put in the checkpoint room, halfway through his dungeon, was just as tough and more dangerous.
Mars and Noelle respawned, and they charged through the dungeon.
Jess had half her health remaining, the hag had one-third, but there were four enemies in Jess’ boss room and Cody hadn’t even reached the hag.
By the time Cody and Luke were in the hag’s room, it was thirty-twenty five in the enemy’s favor. The ogre king was tough, but slow, easy to hit. The enemy delivered damage steadily, while Luke and Cody were forced to adapt as the more fragile hag teleported to inconvenient spots, costing them precious seconds each time.
Noelle and Mars joined the fray.
When the fighting stopped and the screen went dark, Noelle wasn’t entirely sure if they’d won or lost.
Letters in gold script flashed across the screen. ‘Victory!’
The others were out of their chairs, cheering. She joined them. They hugged. She turned, saw Krouse perched on the desk in the center of the room beside Chris and Oliver. He was smiling.
Noelle hugged him, and for once she was able to forget all her doubts and insecurities, all her issues, the way even physical contact would leave her with a pit in her stomach. She hugged him tight, and it was good. It felt right.
“We’re going to nationals!” Cody whooped.
“That was you,” Krouse whispered to her. “You made the difference. You won.”
■
Her breath was too hot as it passed through her lips. The exertion, this body mass, it made her feel feverish. Worse than feverish. She felt like she had when she’d been camping as a child, standing too close to the fire, seeing how long she could endure it.
Only it was all over, inside her. A prickling, almost unbearable heat.
I know why you showed me that, she thought. She looked at Trickster; he adjusted his hat, swapped Sundancer with one of the flying capes. The sun fizzled out as she landed. One threat out of commission. Ballistic and the other cape he’d arrived with were down as well.
She tried to read Trickster’s body language. Back straight, walking with confidence. He’d hesitated when she’d asked for his help. Now there wasn’t a trace of doubt.
She’d admired that about him, had been jealous of it. The confidence. The sense of pride.
But the memory that had flashed across her consciousness, almost more vivid than reality, the emotions very real as she recalled them, it hadn’t served the intended purpose.
You can’t convince me that way, she thought. This victory and that one don’t even compare.
There wasn’t a reply, of course.
“Bitch! Run!” Regent hollered. “Go to Tattletale!”
Only his head, shoulders and one arm were free of Noelle’s grip. She tugged and pulled him in faster. He put his free arm inside her flesh, found something more or less solid and managed to push back enough to avoid having his head pulled in.
Trickster and Noelle wheeled around. Bitch, the girl with the dogs, was the last Undersider here. Trickster couldn’t find an angle to swap the girl with anyone else. The boy in the armor would be too large, and Trickster’s field of vision didn’t allow for him to get his eyes on her and someone more appropriate.
Noelle tagged several of the bodies in her internal stomachs, felt flesh constrict tight against them, felt the pre-prepared nuggets of flesh in her gullet forming into close replicas in an instant. Timing was crucial; if she spat them out too soon, they’d be malformed, missing limbs or features. Too late, and there was extra material.
She retched, sending them flying in the direction of the girl with the dogs. Bodies for Trickster to use.
But the boy with the armor was already moving. He slammed one hand into the ground, and a cloud of debris and dust masked him and Bitch.
She couldn’t wholly control the vomit, lost one of the powered ones. Not one of the Undersiders, she was relieved to note. It had been the big one, who’d been
with the tinker. He’d called himself Über. She didn’t try to reclaim him. He was more or less useless. The loss still pained her. Better to have him than one of the unpowered ones.
Her vomit caught Genesis, who was presently a charging bull with a jellyfish-like tentacles trailing behind her. The vomit blinded Genesis, and Noelle struck her hard enough to kill. The body collapsed and started disintegrating.
“Hey,” Regent said. “Monster girl.”
Noelle snarled as she glanced down at the boy who was stuck inside one of her legs. Only his face was left to be consumed. Her voice was hoarse with emotion as she asked, “What?”
“When you make my clone, do you think you could give him a goatee?”
Noelle didn’t dignify the question with a response. She flexed and drew Regent completely within her body. She’d hurt him later. For now, she needed him to help her escape so she could hunt down his friends.
She ran. The simple act of moving flooded her body with endorphins and adrenaline. It felt good, made her feel strong. That was another avenue of attack, as her body tried to work its manipulations on her mind. The hunger, the heightened emotions, rewarding her with pleasant memories and good feelings when she operated in sync with it.
It was a matter of weeks, days or hours before she lost enough ground that she was the one trying to manipulate her body into doing what she wanted, with it calling all the shots. If the process continued, she would eventually be subsumed entirely, unable to do anything but observe, and maybe not even that.
The pavement had been cracked like a sheet of glass, and the footing was unsteady, but the mass of her body was crushing fragments underfoot, and she had four good legs, with five more for further support. Falling wasn’t a concern.
Noelle passed through the cloud of dust that the one in armor had sent flying into the air. She saw the armored tinker punching the ground once more, leaped to clear the ground that suddenly plunged into a pit in front of her. She picked out a selection from those within her and, with her rightmost head, sent a stream of bodies at him. He punched the ground with his other hand, and pavement tilted upward in a makeshift barrier, blocking the worst of the stream and flying bodies.
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