by Scott Eder
“I’m ready. Call the man.”
Dev opened the mirror, aimed it at the elevator, and tapped the glass.
The air shimmered as the gateway took shape across the elevator’s threshold. The gold glowing edges expanded quickly until it filled the dimensions of the doorframe. Cassidy glimpsed Cyndralla’s tired face before Stillman stepped through and the gateway disappeared.
The Precept looked…different. Black tactical shirt tucked into black tactical pants stuffed into shiny new combat boots. If not for the saber at his hip and the crossed bandoliers of multi-colored vials filled with powders and liquids, he could have stepped off the cover of SWAT Quarterly.
The Precept took in his surroundings with quick efficiency. “Status.”
“Snipers on the roof across the street,” Dev reported. “No other encounters as of yet.”
Stillman eyed the Knight of Earth, pulled a small, glittering object from one of a hundred small pouches lining his uniform, and placed it in the big man’s hand. “Try this.”
“A diamond?” Magnus frowned. “I don’t do gems. You can see all my,” he circled his hands in front of his stomach, “You know, innards and stuff.”
“Go opaque. And trust me. You’ll move faster and still be nigh invulnerable.”
Magnus rolled his eyes, but began the transformation despite his modesty concern. Stillman gave a sharp nod of approval and turned to Dev. “Plan?”
“Upward and onward. Sir, what of Cyndralla and the counter magic for the orbs?”
The Precept’s face fell and he sighed. “She is close. I thought we had it before you called, but it failed the final test. Let us hope she can find the right formula in time.”
“This feels weird.” His transformation complete, Magnus lifted first one arm then the other. Tiny facets covered every inch of his glass-like body and his internal core remained clouded. “Too light.” His voice sounded higher, ranging closer to contralto than his normal he-man bass.
“Let’s go pretty boy.” Dev teased.
“Hey handsome,” Cassidy chimed in, “Remember, diamonds are a girl’s best friend.”
Magnus blew out a deep breath. “I’ll never live this down.”
Belatedly, Dev remembered Stillman’s presence. “Sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to—”
“Nonsense, Knight of Flame. This is your op. I’m here to lend a hand. It has been too long since I sallied forth.”
‘Sallied?’ You can dress them up…
The stainless steel elevator doors reflected the dim, after-hours lighting. On their left, the building’s register, crammed tight with neat little rows of names and suite numbers, filled the wall.
“Are we taking the elevator?” Cassidy asked, finger poised over the arrow.
“No,” Magnus barked and lunged for her hand. His fear filled the hallway. “I mean, that wouldn’t be a good idea. Gray probably has them rigged.”
“Yeah. We don’t want to risk getting trapped. We’ll take the stairs.” Dev stalked to the other end of the hallway.
“Won’t the stairs be guarded?” Cassidy asked.
“Most definitely,” Dev said. “But we’ll be in control, not at the mercy of electronics or some shadow bitch at the top of the shaft with a big pair of hedge clippers.”
“And not stuck in a tiny metal room,” Magnus mumbled to himself, but Cassidy overheard.
Dev led them around the corner to the door leading to the stairs. “Reverse order. Magnus, you first in case they open fire.”
“I’m on it.” The Earth Knight moved to the front.
“Cassidy next, then Stillman. I’ve got the rear.” Dev looked at Cassidy. “Caz, do you feel anything?”
Cassidy opened herself up to the sensations around her. Beyond Dev, Magnus, and Stillman, higher in the building, she discovered a viscous soup of twisted emotions. Fear. Hate. Anger. Anticipation.
“I sense a lot of people up there.”
“Gray?” Dev asked.
“I think so, but not close.”
“Right. Up we go.” Magnus grabbed the knob and glanced over his shoulder for a final check.
Cassidy swallowed the fear that would have buckled her knees before today and took her place behind the broad diamond back of Magnus, heartbeat hammering in her chest.
What the hell am I doing here? Panic leaked between her lips in a low, unconscious moan.
“Do you hear that?” Dev asked.
She clamped her lips shut and stifled the noise. Not to be denied, her panic found another avenue of escape as tears formed and began to fall.
“It’s gone. Weird.”
“Yeah. Haha. Weird.” Cassidy wiped the tears away and took a deep breath.
Magnus shrugged and rolled his shoulders a few times. “Do you feel that?”
“What?” Dev asked.
“I feel…nervous.” Magnus patted his belly. “I’ve got butterflies.”
Dev raised one eyebrow and deadpanned, “Butterflies.”
“Yeah. I haven’t felt like this since, well, I can’t remember when.” Magnus squinted, mouth crooked into a scowl. “I don’t like it.”
“Now that you mention it,” Dev cocked his head to one side, “I feel it too. Kind of anxious, jumpy.” He held out his trembling hand. “What the hell is this?”
“Maybe we should rethink this. Come back at another time.” Stillman rubbed the back of his neck and eyed the door to the stairs.
Oh no. This can’t be happening.
“It came on all of a sudden.” Magnus rubbed his eye with a finger. It came away wet and he held it out for Dev to see. “Look, I’m leaking.”
“Put that thing away.” Dev slapped Magnus’s hand away.
I’m affecting them. Cassidy’s breath came in short, quick gasps and her pulse jumped through the roof. She knew if she kept this up, she’d pass out. Already her vision changed, the edges of her sight closing in.
Dev grabbed his chest, his breathing labored. Magnus’s color yellowed and he grabbed his stomach as if to ward off a bout of nausea.
Get a grip, Sinclair. Take a deep breath. This is just like competition. Breathe. Release. Breathe. Release.
Cassidy’s panic receded. The pre-competition routine took the edge off. Her tears stopped and sanity returned.
Stay calm.
She could see the others regaining their composure. Dev shook his head to clear the alien sensations. Magnus rubbed his eyes, mining for more tears, but his fingers came up dry. Stillman shot Cassidy a thoughtful look.
“I’m not sure what happened,” Magnus said, “But let’s never talk about this again. Ever.”
“Amen to that, brother,” Dev said.
Cassidy gave a thumbs-up, not ready to trust her voice. She’d almost killed the entire mission. This emotional control thing was going to be harder than she thought. For now, she’d do her best Tinker Bell impression and think happy thoughts.
“When you’re ready.” Dev nodded toward the door. “Stick close to the wall.”
Magnus opened the door and glided in slow, head twisted at an angle to peer up the chimney between the switchback flights of wide steps. Broad landings broke the steep climb midway between floors. The lights continued for three floors. Beyond that, darkness reigned.
Chapter 52
THE PENTHOUSE WAITING ROOM WAS PACKED. Twenty five elite members of Rangu Copa, Alexander’s private army, trained their XM8 assault rifles on the doors to the elevators and the stairs. Hand-picked killers, the troops were force-fed Shadow dogma and trained since they were toddlers. Best of all, they were completely loyal to Alexander Gray.
“Commander.” Alexander spoke to the burly soldier in the center of the line. Cold blue eyes stared out of deep sockets, locked in a face of sharp, deadly angles. Oily black hair hung in loose curls about his shoulders, a sign of his rank.
“Sir. As ordered, twenty five up top, fifty below.”
“Fine.”
Redundancy. The snipers failed and the Knights got into the
building. Alexander had dispatched Gothrodul to address their failure. Fifty Rangu Copa on the stairs would be more than a match for three simple Knights. If not, the best of the best waited for them here.
And if that is not enough, I might have to get my hands dirty. In a perverse way, he hoped it came to that. He wanted to be the one to take the lives of these upstart Knights. Fighting three of them as opposed to only one may actually pose a challenge.
Agridda’s work in the barge made them reckless, as expected.
For now, though, more pressing matters required his attention. Against the far wall of the lobby behind the row of soldiers, three sacrifices whimpered and moaned around their gags. Spread-eagle, affixed to crossed wooden beams with spikes driven through their wrists and ankles, the soon-to-be victims stared in helpless terror as Alexander approached. Blood trickled down their arms and filled their shoes. The one in the center lost control of his bladder and filled the room with the pungent tang of his fear.
Animals. Alexander sneered as he inspected each one. Chubby is what he asked for and all three fit the bill. Two women, and the coward in the center. He had seen them around the building, working in unimportant departments performing mundane duties, but that was about to change.
“Today,” he preached, “your contributions to the company are finally going to be worthwhile.”
A tingle began at the back of Alexander’s neck, but he pushed it aside.
Agridda hovered above the captives, bright yellow eyes dancing through the thick miasma of fear in the air.
The tingle intensified to a sharp pinprick, but Alexander had felt much worse from his father. Excitement overrode the pain in his neck. The moment he had been working for since his banishment to this Shadow-cursed land had arrived.
Cupping his hands in front of his mouth, Alexander closed his eyes and drew on the dark power deep in his soul. The lights flickered as the threat of Shadow chased away the illumination. He coughed the word of power three times into his closed hands then shook them. The resultant angry buzz curled his lips into a malicious grin as eighteen hair-thin legs caressed his skin.
Yes.
Within his hands, three black flies with green wings zigzagged across his palms. He pursed his lips and blew them toward the guests of honor. With non-insect like precision, they landed on the foreheads of their respective hosts. Eyes wide and desperate, the victims watched the flies’ progress as they navigated facial hills and valleys. Quick steps, pause, quick steps, the pattern continued until each fly sat upon a pair of quivering lips.
Will it be through the nose or the mouth? Fascinated, Alexander watched each fly choose its own course. Two crawled up their host’s nose while the other worked around the gag and entered through the mouth.
No matter, in is in.
The pain in Alexander’s neck intensified, as though his father stabbed a dagger and slowly twisted it from side to side. Annoyed, he left instructions for Agridda to watch for the changes while he took the call.
Rubbing the back of his neck, Alexander strode into his office, to the malevolent stare of his father. He’d come through the portrait and sat in wait like a hungry spider.
“Father.” Calm. Emotionless.
“I see your brothers have already left.” The Gray Lord glanced at the empty portraits to either side of his. “Good. This will be our last call.”
Last call? An icy tongue of dread licked at Alexander’s black core.
“I must admit, Alexander, I didn’t expect you to get this far.” Bestok Molan folded his hands in front of him and his expression softened.
What is he up to? I have not seen this tactic from him before.
“Knights dead. Orbs deployed.” His father shook his head. “If I hadn’t seen it myself, I would never have believed it. You actually pulled it off.”
“Father, I—”
The Gray Lord held up his hand. “You bought us more time than I expected.”
“What do you mean?”
“This was all a ruse, Alexander, a means to draw the Knights away from our other, more important endeavors.”
Alexander let his confusion play out across his face and his father scowled.
“You were always dense,” Bestok Molan said.
“I do not understand.”
“Of course you don’t, idiot boy. I’ll slow it down for you. You. Were. Bait. A convenient way to locate the Knights and keep them busy at no cost to my organization. The Knights are coming, yes?”
Alexander nodded slowly as the meaning of his father’s words began to sink in.
“You’ve been lucky. This time, you and yours have no chance. Your opponents will not make the same mistake twice. Goodbye, Alexander.”
I have done everything you have ever asked of me. Rage bloomed, surging through his bloodstream. And now you kick me aside like some leprous cur.
“You bastard.” Alexander whispered to the disappearing image of the Gray Lord.
His father’s mocking laughter rang out as the portrait faded to black.
Alexander growled. It started deep in his chest and vibrated his ribcage until it worked its way to the surface and emerged as a roar. He bolted from the room, incinerating everything in sight with a sizzling bolt of shadow.
Kill. The mantra cycled over and over in his head. Kill.
In the waiting room, the disciplined soldiers eyed his crazed look. Alexander wiped the spittle from the corner of his mouth before turning his bale-filled gaze on the humans. The Rangu Copa uniform meant nothing.
Alexander saw only sheep ready for slaughter.
Alexander, stop. Gothrodul’s thought banged uselessly against the solid mass of hate that was once Alexander’s rational mind.
The elite soldiers turned in reaction to the new threat. Pinpoint lasers of indigo shadow beamed from Alexander’s extended fingertips and cut the Rangu Copa down. Like a fistful of scalpels, the channeled darkness sliced through flesh and bone and the metal of the assault rifles. Bodies slid apart. Juicy gobbets of meat splashed down into spreading puddles of blood on the hardwood floor.
Alexander! The dragon screamed through the mental link.
What do you want? Alexander snarled back. I am in no mood for your banter.
Get a grip, Gray Lord. Gothrodul tried to calm Alexander down.
Do not speak of my father ever again.
I do not speak of your father, Alexander. I speak of you. There is another path.
Explain quickly, beast, or I will kill you along with the rest. Alexander knew Gothrodul hated the beast reference. He sensed the dragon’s angry growl as prelude to his response.
Bursts of automatic gunfire erupted from the floors below.
Blast these interruptions. “Agridda, go.”
An excited hiss escaped the dark patch with yellow eyes that zoomed through the closed stairwell door.
As for you, Dragon, Alexander pushed his irritation through the mental link. We will discuss this other path at a later date.
Regaining control, Alexander yanked on his jacket cuffs and turned to the sacrifices. Bloated stomachs. Blackened, distorted faces. Unblinking stares.
It is time.
Raising his arms above his head, Alexander called upon his darkest magic.
Chapter 53
THE STAIRWELL WAS AN OVEN. IT’S air hot, moist and still.
Perfect. Dev tapped into that heat, pulled it in, let it trickle through his bloodstream. His arms and legs tingled with borrowed energy. Though Magnus had point, Dev strained all his senses upward into the darkness, searching for the forces that Gray had undoubtedly set in place.
Can you feel us coming, Gray?
The fluorescent lights quit after the third floor. The other thirty-nine climbed in relative darkness, brightened only by the wan emergency bulbs set at ankle height along the outer walls. Dev embraced that absence of light, hungry for another chance at Shadow. Doubts about finding a way to kill the Maven fled in the face of battle. He would figure it out. He always di
d
“They’re close,” Cassidy whispered. “Only a few more floors.”
Dev knew too. Their heat signatures gave them away. He whistled, barely audible, but loud enough to get the Earth Knight’s attention. As the big man turned, Dev put out ten fingers. He pointed up and flashed a couple more fingers, indicating they’d find ten soldiers in two floors. Magnus acknowledged with a single nod.
Dev leaned his head close to Cassidy’s. “What do you feel?”
“Anticipation. Annoyance. Boredom.”
“No fear?”
“Far above. Not close.”
“Time to change that.” Dev pushed her gently against the wall. “Stay here. It’ll be safer.”
She started to protest, but stopped before any words came out. Instead, she nodded and squeezed his arm. He caught a flash of something more in her look, but it was too quick.
Concern, maybe. Fear?
He couldn’t blame her. The last few minutes of anticipation before battle were ten times worse than the real thing. For her it must be doubly so, having never deliberately set out for a fight.
“What are your intentions?” Stillman asked.
“Take out the first group of defenders as quickly as possible. Sir, I would appreciate it if you would stay with Cassidy, keep her safe and guard the rear.”
Stillman’s eyes narrowed as if he saw through Dev’s polite but obvious attempt to keep him out of the way.
“Are they human?” The Precept fished a small jar from another one of his pockets, unscrewed the lid, and dipped in one finger. “I want each of you to smear a little of this salve under your eyes, nose and mouth. It will counter any of the tools I use in combat.” While the Knights passed the jar and followed his order, he thumbed a vial containing a blue powder through the loop of his vest.
This would be so much easier without the old man here. He’s going to slow us down.
“Let’s try something to make our ascent a tad simpler, shall we? Here, hold this.” Stillman handed the vial to Dev and rummaged through a few pockets until he came out with what looked like an inverted salt shaker with two small tubes mounted to its side.