“Fall back!” he called. “Into the trucks!”
The soldiers rallied, retreating to the safety of their bulletproof red-striped black vans. Being attacked by creatures out of a horror movie had panicked everyone, but his men were trained well enough to obey orders even in the worst of situations.
Isaac had finally mostly regained his wits, and managed to help Artemis into the back seat of one of the vans. Soun slipped into the passenger seat, and a young woman moved behind the wheel and started the engine.
The Romanians screamed at us as they drove off, but that was about it. They hadn't brought guns—probably to increase the fear factor a little—and they weren't fast enough to catch them.
Artemis rubbed his forehead; he was sweating buckets. “Soun, update.”
“No casualties reported yet, but I'm sure it's only a matter of time. At least all five vans are behind us, so that's a good sign.”
They were at the head of the pack. Artemis glanced back through the rear window and realized he was right. They wouldn't know for certain until they got back to NHQ, but this at least meant they had enough men left to drive the cars. Could have been worse. Almost was, actually. If the ambush had managed to kill them...
Artemis shivered. He needed to do something. He and Isaac were the linchpins of Necessarius; kill them, and the entire system would fall apart—and with it, the hopes of the city. They needed a new system, better suited to replacing one or both of them.
His musings were cut off by the driver slamming on the brakes, bringing the van to a screeching halt after ten feet of drifting. Behind them, he heard the other vans doing much the same, and there was the sound of at least one crash. He glanced back again. Third van back. It was just dented, but it could have been worse.
Artemis gripped the seat in front of him, cursing the lack of foresight that had left him without a seat belt. “What the hell was that?”
The driver just nodded at the road in front of him. Artemis followed her gaze, and saw...
A young brunette woman laying in the street, in a pool of what appeared to be her own blood.
He felt his heart stop. He knew who it was. Even though she was lying face-down, the short-sleeved shirt and old jeans were a dead giveaway. No one else would be dressed like that in the middle of the night.
“Christina!” Artemis cried, bolting out of the van as fast as his weakened legs would carry him. He barely heard Soun calling for him to get back in the car.
He collapsed at her side and gingerly touched her neck. There was a pulse. Good. But other than that... he couldn't see a wound, which was a bit odd. With the way the Romanians were acting, he would have expected them to go for her neck.
“Mary Christina,” he whispered. “Can you hear me?”
She moaned pitifully, and tried to position her arm under her to lever herself up.
“Don't move,” he ordered, taking her hand in his.
Isaac sat down next to him, all trace of his normal exuberance gone. “He's right. We'll get you loaded up in the van, take you back home, and get you fixed up, I promise.”
Artemis glared daggers at him. “Unless she is lutum informis, yes?”
Isaac winced, and Artemis immediately felt terrible. “C'mon, Artemis, I'm sorry about that... Besides, she's not. The only ones in the city besides you are that Hearing boy and Anupama Sharma.”
Before Artemis could apologize, however, he heard Soun behind him. “Sirs, I need you to step away from that woman.”
He looked up and was surprised to find three men plus his general standing in front of the van, weapons ready. “Soun, what are you doing? It's Mary Christina. She's one of us.”
But Soun wasn't about to give up that easily. “Sir, we have no proof it's her. This could be a trap.” Gunfire echoed from further behind them, and he cursed under his breath in Khmer. “We don't have time. Please sirs, if it is her we'll make sure she's taken care of.”
After only a moment's hesitation, Artemis nodded. He grunted with effort as he used his cane to struggle to his feet. Soun was right, and if his emotions hadn't been clouding his judgment, Artemis would have given the order himself. This was a perfect opportunity for an ambush. Even assuming this really was Mary Christina, the Romanians could be using her as bait, waiting for them to let their guards down before attacking.
Soun nodded to one of his men, who moved forward quickly but carefully. He knelt down next to the woman—his comrades keeping their weapons ready the entire time—and flipped her over as gently as possible.
The woman was a bit plain, but not necessarily in a bad way. Normally, she would have been quite attractive. But right now, with her long brown hair clotted with blood, her face covered in deep scratches black with dirt, and a bloody wound in her shoulder, she just looked like someone in need of urgent medical attention.
“Christina,” Artemis whispered. Then he shook his head; they needed to be quick. “General, get Miss Asimov into the van, if you would. I want the convoy moving again before more Romanians catch up.”
His men moved with the same military efficiency as always, pulling out a collapsible stretcher and strapping her in. After quickly binding her shoulder—which looked like a gunshot wound, oddly enough—they put her in the back of the van, and Artemis sat next to her on the floor, though Isaac took one of the seats. They were off again in less than ten minutes.
“When we get to NHQ, do you think you can patch her up?” Artemis asked.
But Isaac was distracted, drumming his fingers against the armrest. “Something's not right,” he muttered. “Red dusk, it's not right. I only gave twenty people those eyes. How are there so many of them?”
Mary Christina coughed. “Arty. She said...” She gulped down great gasps of air.
He gripped her hand. “Shh.”
She shook her head. “That woman... attacked. Said...” She coughed, and grinned weakly. “Her mother gave her the designs... for the eyes. And... a toy maker.”
Artemis frowned. “Her mother? Who the hell—”
Then he stopped.
No.
She wouldn't have been that stupid. She couldn't possibly have—
He pulled out his satellite phone and slammed the first number on his speed dial. Not that it mattered. There weren't really that many people in the city with portable phones. Mary Christina had an idea about setting up “cell towers,” but he didn't know enough about technology to understand the cost or implications. She had been planning on giving him a briefing tomorrow afternoon, though that would probably need to be put on hold.
After a few rings, the person on the other end picked up, and a sweet young voice spoke. “Hello? Mister Butler?”
He resisted yelling by an effort of will—that would hardly make her answer any faster. But he still didn't have time for pleasantries. “Did you give someone a toy maker and eye designs?”
“Uh-huh,” she answered immediately and guilelessly. “The sad lady with the black eyes wanted to let her friends see in the dark.”
Black eyes... Striga. It had to be. Or maybe one of her cronies, but it was definitely Striga's doing. “Where did you even get those?”
“I always know where everything is,” she said, a little indignant.
Well, she was a smart and cunning little girl. Yes, she had been tricked, but that was hardly unexpected, at her age. “Why did you give those things to her? They weren't yours to give.”
“She said they were,” she insisted. “She said I'm the Mother, so it's all mine.”
Artemis closed his eyes. That stupid “mother” thing. They had known things would change when they introduced the toy maker, but they hadn't expected something like this.
“Thank you for your help, dearest,” he said finally, not knowing what else he could do. “I'll talk to you when I get home.”
“Okay, Mister Butler,” she said cheerfully, and hung up.
He let the bulky phone fall into his lap. All their plans and security... wasted, because of one naï
ve and trusting child.
“Sir,” Soun said from the front. “I have news.”
Artemis didn't bother turning around. “Let's hear it.”
“Striga has made an announcement. She is offering the eyes to anyone who wants them, so long as...” He paused, likely reading something on the van's extremely expensive built-in computer. “So long as 'they are willing to fight for their freedoms.'”
Artemis snorted. “Coming from her, that means the freedom to take whatever they want.”
But he finally understood the point of all this. Getting the eyes and the toy maker, attacking the lab and Mary Christina, the massacres, this announcement... it finally made sense.
She wasn't warning others away. She was calling them to arms. Arms against who? Everyone, probably. But most especially Necessarius.
He shook his head. This was just one crazy woman and her followers. Kill Striga, and these “vampires” would no longer be a threat.
This wasn't something worth getting worked up over.
Chapter 46: CAELI RUINA
LING
“Ling.” Rough hands shook her. “Ling, wake up.”
“Nnngh?” She opened one eye a crack to see an annoyed Akane standing over her.
“Screamers again,” she said bluntly, and started dressing at super speed.
Now that Ling was awake, she could hear new screamers, far to the north. It was just hard to sift it all out from the background noise of the captured ones.
It had been a week and two days since the shopping trip with Lizzy, not to mention a little over two weeks since the last screamer attack—which, of course, she hadn't fought in.
She was tired. It was barely even morning, sometime around two, and she had been up late playing with her armor. In fact, she had fallen asleep with it on, which hadn't helped anything.
“Five more minutes,” she muttered.
She heard Akane step up to her bed. “By Musashi's sword, that's not happening.”
She grabbed Ling by the torso and yanked her out of bed at super speed, pulling her towards the open window.
Despite the danger, Ling couldn't help noticing the strange sensations of super speed. Akane had never mentioned it, which was hardly a surprise. Maybe it was different for her, or maybe she just didn't feel like talking about it. But for Ling, it felt like being dragged underwater. Warm and fluid, like every molecule of air was trying to hold her back.
Then Akane threw her out the window, and everything went back to normal.
Except the fact that she was falling thirty floors to my death, of course.
With the cold wind and burst of adrenaline, all thoughts of sleep were gone. Thankfully, Ling had enough experience with getting thrown that she didn't waste any precious seconds screaming or flailing in terror.
The first thing she did was flip so that her feet were facing the ground, using her powers on the plates in her armor. Fighting gravity was more difficult. She had the power, no question, but that was part of the problem. She had too much power, so she usually just ended up sort of bobbing up and down until her reservoir ran out. When she was practicing, it was no big deal. Here, it was a matter of life and death.
Luckily, she had been practicing, and she was able to pull up on her armor with enough strength and control to slow her down. She still hit hard, and her ankles buckled under her, but she was alive. Sore, yes, but alive and kicking.
She settled onto her hands, breathing deeply and willing her jack-hammering heart to slow. Velvet hell, what was that? Even if Akane had known she was wearing her armor, it still seemed... like an overreaction. To say the least.
But she didn't have time to get mad about it, she was sure, and she doubted anything good would come of confronting her about it later. She guessed... she guessed she'd just have to forget about it.
Yeah, forget about being thrown out a window. She'd get right on that.
Kelly appeared at her side within moments, her pistol at the ready in a two-handed grip. “You okay? What happened?”
Ling shook her head. “I...” She sighed. “I decided to jump out the window. You know, as a test.”
Kelly raised an eyebrow. “Did you try to flirt with Derek around Akane again? I told you she'd fight back eventually.”
“No, actually,” she said. She stood slowly. She was a little nauseous from the spinning on the way down, but it was fading fast. “I wouldn't get out of bed.”
“So she threw you out the window?”
“She's not a morning person.”
“I gathered.” Kelly glanced back at the van, scratching the fixer still strapped to her arm. “Well, whatever. I hope the others are down quick. The attack is at North Outer this time. Janelle is having a hell of a time.”
Ling didn't know which Janelle she might be referring to, and that wasn't the most important part anyway. “Where's the attack? Exactly, I mean?”
“Chronias,” Kelly said flatly. “The Illuminated Heaven.”
The others came down, and after a few questions about why Ling decided to jump out the window, they were off. Jarasax was insisting on driving faster than normal—which was saying something—and they were able to use some Necessarian shortcuts, but it still took nearly an hour and a half to reach their destination.
“How much longer?” Adam asked, glancing at the GPS on his phone. “We should be there already.”
“We are,” Jarasax said grimly. He pulled to a stop next to a dark 'scraper on an even darker block. Now that Ling was paying attention, she realized she hadn't seen any lights for a few minutes. “This is it.”
She had already noticed the screamers were nearby, of course, but Adam didn't have that. They weren't quite close enough to hear with normal senses yet.
“I thought we were stopping by Chronias?” Alex asked. “The actual headquarters, not just the general domain.”
“We are,” Jarasax repeated. He pointed to the skyscraper, over a hundred floors high and without a single light on. “That's it.”
Ling's heart stopped in her chest.
That...
That couldn't be.
It was impossible.
Alex slid open the van's door as fast as he could and stumbled outside, retching onto the unlit street.
Adam was just confused. “What's wrong?”
Laura was the one who managed to answer. “What the hell do you think the angels' sanctuary would look like, you moron?”
He glanced around at their horrified faces. “More... light, I guess?”
That was the understatement of the century. The Heavens were impossibly beautiful. Covered in mirrors and magnifying glasses stretching out from the central structure like the limbs of a tree, during the day Chronias reflected the sunlight with unspeakable perfection, looking like nothing so much as a giant tree made of light.
At night, depending on the state of the moon, artificial lights would be used to produce a similar effect, but even more striking. Without the sun to interfere, the light architects could craft even more impressive displays, such as a small-scale aurora borealis that would hang about the Heaven like a warm cloak. Even though the sky was overcast, the skyscraper should have been glowing bright enough to see for miles.
But it was dead. Completely dead, not even the smallest spark of light dancing in its heart. Ling might not have any love for the angels, but seeing them brought low so quickly...
“It's not as bad as it looks.”
They all turned to see a demon standing on the street a few feet from Alex. He was cloaked in soft red light from a lantern hanging from a staff he carried. He nodded to the dark 'scraper. “The screamers here can manipulate light. They had to turn everything off, otherwise it would be like just handing a bomb to the enemy.”
That made sense, to everyone's relief. It also explained why all the other lights in the past few streets were off as well.
“The compound isn't far,” the demon said. “We actually saw you guys drive past.”
They all file
d after him, though Alex took some coaxing. He kept glancing back over his shoulder, as though to reassure himself the Heaven hadn't crumbled into dust when he wasn't looking.
The 'sarian redoubt was nestled in a wide alley just a few minutes walk from where they had stopped, out of sight of the road. Once they clambered past a hastily-erected barricade made of parked cars—parked, not stacked—they found themselves in a small tent city. The alley was nearly big enough to be a road itself, but it was a dead end with nothing important, so no one had bothered to give it a name.
The entire camp was illuminated by that same soft red light as before. It was nightlight, nothing special. Just bright enough for baseline eyes to see, but not so bright to blind nighteyes. It was certainly strange seeing it in an angel domain, though.
Ling noticed that none of the armed men and women were angels, though only a small fraction wore Necessarian armbands. What few angels she did see were sitting on the ground, resting as though waiting for something.
Laura noticed the same thing. “The angels can't see in this light?”
“Barely,” their guide said as they navigated the small maze of tents. “They raised a fuss at first, but then some idiot daybroke over at Camp Beta, and the whole place was nearly destroyed. Quieted down, after that.”
Derek was the next with a question. “How many of these camps do you have?”
“Ten. Got about two hundred souls in each.”
Derek frowned. “Is that a large fraction? I'm not sure how many people are in danger.”
“It's barely even a sliver. There are a lot of people in the threatened area, at least by MC's estimates. There aren't that many screaming yet, but that will change. They're just hiding in their houses, that's no defense.”
They had reached the end of the camp by now, blocked off by the back wall of a building. An old woman, maybe fifty years old, looked up from a table strewn with papers. “Thank you for getting them up to speed, Gavin. Return to your duties.”
The demon saluted, then left without another word.
The woman came out from behind the table, and even in the dull red light, Ling could see that she wasn't baseline. Although her upper body was normal, her legs had been replaced—or, more accurately, fused together. Whatever the exact process, the result was a long, sinuous snake tail, which she used to slither over to them.
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