by Chloe Neill
“It’s a bunker,” Gavin said with a grin. “That’s the point of it.”
“They’re in there,” Gunnar said, walking up behind us. “And yeah, that is the point of it. Gavin starting with a correct observation bodes well for this whole enterprise.”
Gavin blinked. “Was I just insulted?”
“You were,” Liam said. “You’re currently devastated.”
“Let’s get inside,” Gunnar said, walking toward the barricade. When he reached it, he pressed his hand against a plate set into one of the uprights, and a section of the stakes slid open on a metal track.
“Handy,” I said, watching it close after we’d walked through. “What do you do when the power’s out?”
Gunnar looked back, smiled. “We push.”
* * *
• • •
Guards patrolled the narrow gap between the barricade and the building, and two guards stood outside a heavily fortified door.
They came to attention as Gunnar approached, nodded when he showed them his ID, then scanned his palm for entry into the building.
The door pivoted open, nearly a foot thick, and pushed out a cloud of cold air. The guard on the left sighed lustily as it hit him, eyes closed in pleasure.
“Long day, Pete?” Gunnar asked with a smile.
“Hot out, sir. Happy to serve.”
“That’s why we love you, Pete. Take your mandatory heat breaks.”
“Sir,” Pete said with a nod, and we left him to his guarding.
The interior of the building was as staid and solid as the outside, if more technologically advanced. The door opened into a mudroom with hooks and lockers on one side, a hallway that led to offices on the other. And ahead, a glass door that showed the room beyond—and more tech than I’d seen in one place in years. There were monitors along one wall and a handful of sleek comps.
The building seemed to have a gentle background hum, and I wasn’t sure if that was related to the tech, the closeness of the Beyond, or the generators stashed somewhere to keep the facility running.
We followed Gunnar through the door, and he approached a woman in fatigues who stood in front of a table topped by a large map.
“Lieutenant Batiste,” Gunnar said, offering a hand to the woman.
She was petite and curvy, with brown skin and dark brown hair in a thick braid that crowned her head. Her eyes were big and brown, topped by perfectly arched brows, and her generous lips curled into a smile punctuated by apple cheeks.
“Landreau,” she said to Gunnar, then nodded at Rachel. “Captain.”
“Lieutenant,” Rachel said. “Everyone, this is Lieutenant Shon Batiste. She’s in charge of this outpost. Shon, the entry team.”
“Welcome to the dead zone,” she said. “Everyone hydrated? Hot out there today.”
“We’re good,” Gunnar said, and gestured at the cooler Gavin had brought in. “Ice, as requested.”
A popular bribe in New Orleans.
“Appreciate it. AC service is sketchy at best, and we aren’t high on the maintenance priority list. Especially now, when they’ve got pumps to worry about. Understandable, but irritating.”
“How’s the field looking?” Gunnar asked.
“Cameras are down, because they apparently hate magic. Which is their prerogative. So we’ll use the low-tech version.” Shon gestured to the middle of the room, where a man sat in a rotating chair, staring into what looked like binoculars as he moved back and forth.
“Periscope,” she said, “with visibility through the turret. Gives us a three-hundred-sixty-degree view around the palisade.”
She rotated to face the table. “And our plotting map.” The map was topographical, with small blocks placed at various positions across the landscape.
“We’re green, and they’re red.” She picked up what looked like a small rake and gestured to a large green box. “Our current location.” She gestured to a series of wavy lines. “The boundary between our world and theirs. We call it ‘the Veil’ for simplicity’s sake, although the barrier itself is burned away for more than a mile.”
Between the border and the outpost was a field edged on facing sides by the river and the road. That field was the first gauntlet we’d have to cross to get into the Beyond. Our first step of the journey.
Rachel picked up another rake, used the end to point to two small boxes between us and the Veil. “How many Paras?” she asked.
“Presently about twenty,” Shon said, mouth setting into a firm line. “All Court and primarily bruisers. Big creatures intended to block progress in or out. Ogres, golems of the automaton variety. A Cyclops or two.”
Lot of Cyclopes in southern Louisiana these days, I thought. “Automatons?” I asked.
“Think of them as robots,” she said, “but operated by magic instead of hardware, software.”
Not a thing I’d run across before. And like much of what came out of the Beyond, a little bit fascinating and a little bit awful.
“They’re guarding the barrier from Containment?” Gavin asked.
“We think they’re guarding the barrier from the Consularis. They don’t want them going back home, because they don’t think the Beyond should belong to the Consularis anymore.”
“And they won’t want Consularis coming here, because that could affect the war,” Gavin said with a nod. “Without magical conscription, they wouldn’t fight us.”
“That’s the operative theory.”
“I didn’t see any Paras in front of the barrier,” I said, drawing Shon’s gaze.
“They stay primarily in the trees, in the shade along the sides of the field, closer to the Veil.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t taken them out,” Gavin said.
“When we try offensive maneuvers, they just retreat into the Beyond. And we haven’t had clearance to get in there.” She glanced at us. “Not until today. I must admit to some jealousy.”
“You want to take my place?” Gavin asked. “I could hang out here with the ice.”
“I’ve got my post orders, thanks. But I like the backpack.”
His satisfied smile formed slowly.
“What about this?” Rachel asked, pointing to a small box about halfway between the outpost and the Veil.
“Burned-out Humvee,” Shon said. “And cover for the approach. We used it on our last offensive. It’s a good spot to aim for before you make the final push.”
“That makes sense,” Rachel said.
“We advance to the vehicle as quickly as possible,” Malachi suggested. “Gavin, Liam, and I draw their fire. Claire and Rachel can run to the Veil.”
Malachi seemed oblivious to the insult—the suggestion that Rachel and I skip the fight and run for cover.
But Rachel had no qualms about discussing it. “We can ‘run to the Veil’? We’re a Sensitive and a trained soldier, and your best idea is that we should let you guys take fire while we run for it?”
Malachi glowered. “It would protect you and Claire.”
“Since I’m a black belt in tae kwon do, and Claire could probably lift that truck of hers with a flick of her pinkie finger, I’m fairly certain we don’t need protecting. And moreover, it would put half the team at risk, and it wouldn’t take advantage of Claire’s considerable power.”
The look on Malachi’s face—a glower-plus—could have torched the room. But he managed to stay quiet.
“We’re a team,” Rachel said. “We act like one.” She looked at me. “Thoughts?”
I could feel their gazes on me as I studied the map. “You’re the ops expert,” I said after my review, “but I’m thinking the truck. We raise it, use it like a shield, push in behind it.”
Rachel looked back at the table, brows lifted. “You playing Captain America today?”
“I self-identify as Scarlet Witch,�
� I said. “But that’s close enough.”
“You could lift it?”
“I could.” Or at least I was pretty sure I could. It was probably heavier than the material pile I’d moved in Tremé, if more compact.
I glanced at Liam. “A little help wouldn’t be a bad idea.”
“My pleasure, cher.”
Rachel walked around the table, considering the lie from various angles. “First move to the truck,” she said quietly, as if reciting the plan to herself, working it over, looking for weaknesses. “Claire and Liam push forward. Gavin, Malachi, and I watch the flank, the rear.”
Gavin managed not to snicker at “rear,” which made me very proud.
“Then we arrive at the Veil,” she said, then stopped, looked at me. “What do you do with the vehicle to get it out of the way?”
“Toss it back,” Liam said, glancing at me for confirmation.
“Yeah. We could do that. We have to put it down at some point. Might as well put it down behind us.”
Rachel looked at Malachi. “Does that work for you, Commander?”
There was something about the way she said his title, something that didn’t seem quite military. Something that felt intimate. But no one else seemed to notice it, or at least everyone kept their thoughts to themselves, so I did, too.
“It’s an acceptable plan,” he said. The words were tight, but he wouldn’t have agreed if he’d thought it too risky.
“I love a compromise in the morning,” Shon said. “We can cover you from here, but it could get messy out there, and we don’t want any of you hit by friendly fire. We’ll have cleaner shots once you’re past the Humvee.
“Bigger problem is, we won’t be able to tell when you’re coming back on the return trip. We keep eyes on the field through the scope twenty-four/seven, but we won’t know you’re here until you’re here. When we see you, we’ll provide what cover we can.”
“Do what you can,” Liam said. “The rest is on us.”
I looked at Malachi. “I’m going to use a lot of magic going in. And it’s going to try to refill itself.”
“Let it,” he said. “Give yourself a minute to refill before you walk in. Better to reach capacity here than in the Veil.”
“Fill the bottle with the hose,” Gavin translated. “Not in the river.”
“A rough metaphor,” Malachi agreed.
“Then let’s do it,” Liam said.
I pulled Scarlet’s keys from my pocket, offered them to Gunnar. “You’ll be careful with her?”
“I have no interest in provoking your wrath. So yes.” He wrapped an arm around me, squeezed. “I love you, Claire-Bear.”
“Ahem,” Liam said crisply. “Claire-Bear?”
“We’ve known each other for a long time,” I said. “And please never use that again, any of you.”
Gavin snorted. “No way. That’s going in the permanent file.”
I gave Gunnar a narrowed look. “Was that really necessary?”
“It was,” he said with a grin. “Be careful.”
“I will.”
We headed for the door.
“It was a pleasure to meet you,” Gavin said, giving the lieutenant a mild salute.
Shon quirked up an eyebrow. “Oh, that’s very sweet, but you cannot handle me.”
“I wasn’t even flirting with her,” Gavin murmured as we walked toward the door, and actually sounded sincere.
Maybe he was getting used to the idea of dating a scientist, after all.
CHAPTER TWELVE
We stood between the building and the barrier, facing the latter and the Veil beyond it. Malachi in front, then me and Liam, then Rachel and Gavin behind. The palisade was still closed while gear was checked, clips inserted, knives unsheathed.
My heart was pounding, energy and magic mingling to put a tremble in my fingers. I wouldn’t deny I was afraid, but fear was only one part of a complicated mix. I wanted action, to do something after days of feeling helpless. I wanted to see the Beyond. I wanted to stop Aeryth’s revenge campaign.
I also wanted Liam safe.
I looked over at him, found his gaze already on me, blue eyes sapphire bright and streaked with gold. It felt like there were still things that needed to be said. But there was no time to say them.
“Claire and Liam,” Rachel said. “This would be the time to spin up whatever power you might need.”
“On it,” I said, and closed my eyes, reached out a hand, began to feel out the magic . . . and almost stumbled back because of the raw power in the air.
“Lot of it,” Liam said.
“Yeah. It’s raw. Green. Pure.”
Without a door to hold it back, magic had drifted through. The feel of it was familiar, but more pronounced now. Stronger, and less diffuse. I began to gather it up.
“Ready,” Rachel whispered, and the gate began to thush open on its track, just like the one in the back of the building.
In seconds, we had a clear view of the hazy limit of our world and the beginning of the Beyond. There was green on the other side of the haze and, fortunately, no uniformed Paras waiting to attack.
The field in front of us looked clear. Bright and green and oppressively hot, but empty of Paras. Either they hadn’t been drawn by our arrival or they were smart enough to keep from showing it.
The Humvee lay almost exactly halfway between us and the Veil, about thirty yards away, and just to the left of our position. The ground was flat, with a few clusters of overgrown grass here and there, but nothing that looked substantial enough to shield us as we ran the gauntlet.
So we’d have to run fast.
“On three,” Liam said. “One, two, three.”
We ran forward, arms pumping, feet kicking, toward the Humvee. Malachi lifted, took to the sky to scout for movement.
It took only seconds for things to go sideways.
I felt magic before I saw movement, and then it was only a gleaming star of fire. Malachi jerked above us, and began to drop.
“Oh, fuck,” Gavin muttered, echoing all our thoughts.
Our direction already set, we skidded behind the vehicle, squeezing into the space between shredded tires.
But Rachel wasn’t with us. She’d veered toward Malachi, crossing the field just as he made an awkward touchdown, and wrapped an arm around him.
She’d just helped Malachi to his feet when an ogre emerged from the tree line. Nearly seven feet tall, with a cyclopean build and uglier face with flattened, crooked features and skin the color of a day-old bruise. But his armor was as golden and gleaming as the Seelies’ had been. The earth shook with each step, flattening an oval bigger than a basketball in the grass.
She fired and hit him dead in the shoulder. The creature jerked back, grunted, but kept moving.
“Gavin,” Liam said, “cover them!”
“Suppressing fire!” Gavin yelled, and hit the ground running. He veered toward Malachi and Rachel, firing at the ogres who loped toward the pair.
“Are you supposed to yell out what you’re doing?” I asked, trying to concentrate on keeping the magic I’d already spooled ready to use. There was a lot of it, and it wanted release. It wanted to fly.
“No,” Liam said. “But he’s got his own style. Merde,” he swore, and moved around to my right, pulled his own weapon, as a Cyclops—probably with an unpronounceable name—ran toward us from the other side of the field.
I pivoted, hand extended to throw him into the field, but Liam put back an arm. “No,” he said. “Keep the magic ready. When everyone is back and mobile, we need to move. This thing is going to take a lot of power.”
“I can’t just stand here and watch while everybody else fights.”
“You aren’t. You’re keeping the fire stoked and waiting on us to get our shit together.” He grabbed me around the waist, p
ulled me in for a hard and heated kiss.
Then he dropped to a knee, a tire giving him some cover, and fired. He nailed the Cyclops in the knee on the first shot.
Gavin helped Malachi to his feet, and Rachel gave them cover as they hustled back to the vehicle.
Suddenly, a creature darted from the other edge of the tree line to Rachel’s left, heading right toward her. It was tall and lean and the color of terra-cotta, its face a smooth, clay approximation of a human’s face, its movements stiff and mechanical. A machine trying to mimic a human.
Golem, I realized.
“On your left!” I shouted, and Rachel pivoted, fired.
The shot lodged in his chest, but didn’t stop him.
She ran toward the golem, unsheathing a knife as she ran. Then she cartwheeled into the air—knife in hand—to avoid the golem’s low swing.
“Damn,” I said, impressed, as Gavin helped Malachi behind our mechanical shield.
“You all right?” Liam asked, glancing back between shots at a pair of ogres.
“He nicked a feather.” His teeth were gritted, tone sharp. “That disrupted the airfoil. I can walk off the fall. But I can’t fly until it’s gone.”
Rachel ran forward, ducked behind the Humvee. “Girlfriend,” I said. “You can move.”
She lifted a shoulder. “Part of the job.” She turned to Malachi. “Are you okay?”
He grimaced against pain. “You have to pull the feather. I can’t fly if it’s broken. That’s physics.”
Rachel considered him for a long moment, gaze narrowed. And I’d have bought a ticket for a peek at what she was thinking as she stared at him.
“The connection points have a lot of nerves, right? So this will hurt you?”
“Yes.”
That word, said without fear, put decision in her eyes. “All right,” she said, and sheathed her knife. “Stay on the left,” she said to Liam, then turned to Gavin, pointed at a shrub fifteen yards from the vehicle. “They don’t get closer than that while I do this.” Then she looked back at Malachi. “Show me.”
Malachi extended a wing, or as much as he could in the shelter of the vehicle. One of the long feathers near the bottom edge was broken and twisted at an awkward angle, and blood was smeared along the feather-covered muscle where it had attached.