Day broke.
The angelweight had been quite effective, at first. Screamers and singers weren't smart enough to find the Grace bracelets, put them on, and activate them. He was, of course, but he wasn't an angel, and even if he was, Necessarius would have gotten very suspicious if they noticed that the entire horde were wearing the things.
But a solution had presented itself very quickly: The angelweight didn't stay in the air as long as they thought. It only lasted about half an hour. The effects lasted much longer, true, but it was a simple matter to administer the Grace to everyone affected when the 'sarians weren't looking, and then order them not to use their dayskins.
There was no need for that any more.
Every single infected angel initiated a daybreak at once, bathing the entire street white. Even with his hands over his closed eyes, everything was just one massive blob of white that scorched his eyes.
The vampires were far worse off. Their screams of pain momentarily drowned out even the screamers, until they fell unconscious seconds later. He wouldn't have been surprised if a few were actually killed from the shock, and he was sure a large number were permanently blinded. Well, as permanent as anything was when the toy maker was involved.
As he ran as far from Akiyama as he could, he ordered the rest of the singers to retreat as well, with the screamers protecting them. The Composer had claimed that there was a limited window in which killing a singer would cure the screamers they had turned, but he knew it wasn't telling him everything. He could feel it doing something to the screamers when they were ones he had personally turned—he just couldn't tell what. He didn't have enough experience with it yet.
A voice resounded in his mind suddenly.
He almost replied out loud since he wasn't used to the telepathy thing yet, but thankfully his mouth was too occupied singing. It was the strangest thing. It was like there was a switch in his head he could turn on and off that controlled the singing. He didn't have to think about it at all. It was just like turning on a hose.
It took him a second to figure out what it was talking about. When he did, it hit him like a ton of bricks.
The presence faded from his mind, and he had a chance to think again.
If the Composer had managed to turn a warlord, that was either very bad or game over, depending. He didn't think the Saint would ever willingly cooperate, so at least that meant he would be locked into “aggressive,” and therefore stupid. That was the worst possibility out of the way.
But there were many, many things the Composer could do with a warlord's body, resisting or not. And the Paladins hadn't made any real gains here. The captured screamers would just be another drain on their resources, and wouldn't get them any closer to finding its base.
But... he knew where its base was.
He couldn't tell them explicitly where it was. Even ignoring the fact that the Composer would kill him, it would just pack up and move locations. Probably cover its tracks better the next time around. Even though it was distracted right now, it would soon catch wind if he left a note or whatever. Not to mention that there was no guarantee the right people would get it.
If he could get close to Akiyama without her killing him... no, no the Composer would wonder why he wasn't running away, would pay more attention, and would be able to hear him tell her the secret. And then, again, everything would become moot.
Then she was in front of him.
She was mostly blind from the daybreak. She had been forced to fight her way through a couple hundred screamers—all of whom could see perfectly—and was covered in their gore. Finding any specific singer in the horde was completely impossible.
But here she was.
His first thought was that girls should not look that good drenched in blood.
Her eyes still watering, she raised her sword above her head , ready to chop him in half.
He didn't have time to think. If he knew her, she would activate her speed on the downward swing, and he would be in two pieces before he could blink. He didn't know if, with hindsight, he would have done something differently with more time to think about it. It wasn't that stupid of a move, in all honestly.
He just took a step back.
Instead of slicing him in half, the samurai's sword cut a long, deep gash in his front. He could feel his organs beginning to push themselves out of his gut, he could feel blood soaking his clothes.
And, most importantly, he could feel the Composer's gaze leave him, as it became clear he wasn't going to kill anyone.
He would never have a better chance. He ignored all the pain screaming at him, he ignored the fact that he barely had enough blood left in his body to stand. He threw himself forward, into Akiyama's stunned arms. Luckily, she was too surprised to get her sword up again. Instead she just caught him.
“The sleepers,” he managed to gurgle into her ear. “Know the way. Don't trust anyone...”
He wasn't really sure how long it took him to die. It felt like years, centuries. Oh, his body died within a few minutes. Akiyama was too good with a sword for anything else. But he... lingered for much longer. Was it just fading electrical signals in his undamaged brain? Or perhaps something else?
He guessed he'd never know.
Chapter 50: CAELO CECIDISSE
DELPHIE
“So,” Delphie said. “Heaven has fallen.”
“Just the one,” Pam said.
“And it will be back up soon,” Yolanda said, a little too quickly. She sounded like she was trying to convince herself. “It's only been... six hours? Six hours or so, and they've already started rebuilding. The Draculas and the 'sarians were able to take care of everything.”
Pam chuckled darkly. “Vampires helping rebuild a Heaven. Never thought I'd see the day.”
Delphie scratched behind the ears of the mouse cradled in her lap. “Well, I'm sorry that I think one-seventh of the angels being dead or screaming is worth worrying about. Clearly I'm just overreacting.”
“It's not that bad,” Zusa said. “I mean, most of the Chronians got away, right?”
Seena snorted. “Does it matter?”
Simon rubbed his forehead, between the horns. “Nine Hells sis, not you too...”
The Mal threw up her hands. “What? They assassinated my boss, and I'm not allowed to be a little pissed at them?”
“He wasn't your boss yet,” Delphie said absently. She really didn't want to get dragged into another rehash of the Twilight War. At least there weren't any angels around, so it probably wouldn't get physically violent.
“He was one of the better men in the city, and he got killed for no better reason than because he's nocturnal.”
Veda quirked her head. “He was also the warlord of the Mals. He was an assassin, dearest. Maybe a moral one, but he definitely wasn't innocent.”
Seena sipped her coffee. “Yeah, yeah. That's what everyone says.”
“Probably 'cause it's true.”
“Shove off, Headlights,” Jelena muttered. “A lot of people at this table have lost friends to angels.”
Zusa frowned. “That doesn't mean we have to perpetuate the cycle of hatred. People are dead. Can't we just call it a tragedy and ignore everything else?”
“Maybe once vamps stop getting killed in the street.” Jelena shook her head. “Seriously, I think if I saw the Composer today I'd give him a medal.”
Yolanda glanced between the two, concerned. “You guys usually don't get involved. What up?”
“There was an attack when I was still being held by the fey,” Jelena said. “Mostly hit the Beli
ans, but also the daevas and the ghouls.” She took another swig of coffee. “The cute Akoman I had my eye on got killed by some glowling who hadn't even earned his knives.”
Pam looked surprised. “You were gonna date a daeva?”
“Maybe,” Jelena muttered. “Never gonna know now.”
Something tugged at Delphie's subconscious, and she sniffed, trusting her enhanced olfactory senses. They didn't disappoint.
She reached forward—careful not to dislodge the mouse in her lap—and grabbed Jelena's “coffee” and sniffed it. “Fur and fang, what the hell is this?” It was clearly alcohol, but not of a kind she had ever seen.
Jelena snatched it back, spilling a little in the process. Delphie swore the table started to sizzle where the liquid hit. “It's just rum, Mom. No big deal.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I've smelled rum before, and—”
Seena hiccuped. “Seaweed rum. Got some as a thank-you gift from that Dagonite we rescued last week. Eric.”
Delphie shivered. Just remembering the events of seven days ago made her heart race, and not in the good way. Caught between two gargants was not the way she expected to go.
Of course, thinking about her friends drinking seaweed rum wasn't really helping her nerves any. “Ah... tell me you guys at least watered that down with something.”
Seena nodded sagely. “Yes. Rum.”
“Whelp, I guess I know what I'm getting you for Christmas,” Simon said bitterly. “I'll pay to repair your alcohol-induced blindness.”
His sister winced, but still took another swig. “It's not that bad...”
Simon fixed her with an icy glare. “Yes, it is.”
Yolanda stared at her boyfriend. “...am I missing something here?”
Seena adjusted her daygoggles, annoyed at having to explain. “Our mother was an alcoholic.” She shrugged. “Also, we were born blind. I'm pretty sure that's unrelated, but I dunno.”
Yolanda bit her lip. “So you were blind for the first...” She squinted as she did some quick math in her head. “Three years of your lives?”
“Seven,” Simon corrected. “Toys like that weren't available right off the bat, you know.”
She blushed. “I-I'm sorry! I didn't—”
Zusa patted her hand in a friendly manner. “Most of us didn't pay too much attention to what was going on when we were kids. I'm sure Simon understands.”
He didn't say anything.
“I said I'm sure Simon understands.”
He suddenly winced and grabbed his leg under the table. “Ow! Why'd you kick me?”
Zusa just smiled innocently. “Oh, no reason. You're just being an ass again.”
“What—hey, I was just thinking.” He rubbed his leg, or more specifically his ankle. “This whole thing just reminded me of Jacob.”
“That would be...” Delphie tapped her finger on the table. “I can't remember. Was he one of the ones in the shootout at the beginning of the semester?”
Simon shook his head. “No, that was David. Jacob died years ago. I don't think you ever met him.”
“Hm. Who else died in that one? The shootout, I mean? It was in vamp territory, so...”
“Orbek,” Seena said, sipping at her drink again. Simon frowned and snatched it away from her. She grimaced, but didn't protest. “I think you remember him. Young orc with fighting claws? Some Levisans snipped them off with bolt cutters. David killed most of them, but...” She shrugged. “All he had was a pistol. He got killed pretty quickly.”
Simon sniffed the drink and winced. “Ugh, Nine Hells, how can you—nevermind. I thought you didn't know how David died.”
His sister shrugged. “Malach told me.”
Pam blinked. “That's an angel name.”
It was also a name Delphie recognized. “He's still sweet on you?”
Seena slumped against the tabletop. Her answer was muffled by her arms. “I guess. He didn't try and kill me, anyways. He just thought I might want to know how a friend of mine kickstarted the Twilight War.”
“Again,” Jelena said, deadpan.
“Again,” Seena said, with a small pained smile. “Though the war kinda lost steam with the Composer and everything.”
“I wonder if that was the point?” Pam mused. She leaned back in her chair and stared up at the sky. “Everyone's been wondering about the Composer. None of his actions make sense.” She shrugged. “Maybe he's trying to be an enemy for us to fight, to unite against.”
“Spare us the Social Darwinism,” Seena grunted. “Over three thousand people are dead. Plus Chronias.”
Pam leaned forward again and shook her head. “No, that's exactly my point. Only a few hundred people are dead. Three thousand are screaming—and if there's a cure out there, then suddenly the deaths are barely a blip on the radar.”
Simon closed his eyes. “Pam, you...” He shook his head. “I've heard that argument before, but I just don't buy it. There's too much chaos and destruction.”
Pam shrugged. “Well, yeah. It wouldn't be much of a threat if he didn't do any damage at all. But it's still less than the angels and vampires would do if they had a chance.”
Yolanda gripped Simon's arm to get his attention. “You know... my uncle did say they were worried that the next Twilight War would drag the whole city into it. Maybe that's related?”
“I think you're all thinking about this too short-term,” Veda said, not looking up from her phone. “Zaphkiel sponsored a lot of orphanages, and he made sure the kids were raised right. No brainwashing them with angelic propaganda, just letting them grow up. Who knows what will happen now, with him out of the picture?”
The mouse in Delphie's lap perked his head up, probably hearing something she couldn't, and leaped off her lap. She ignored it. “So you think maybe this had something to do with toppling the Watcher from his position as leader?”
“Erathoal is in charge of education,” Jelena said. Delphie was surprised she had been paying attention. “Maybe he wants more propaganda?”
It was a sign of how drunk Jelena was that Delphie had to explain politics to her. “The Arch-Saints don't fight among each other, you know that.” The angels in general were pretty good about keeping out of civil wars, but they weren't perfect. The Hebdomad, however, were close friends, and had founded the culture together. She couldn't imagine them turning on each other.
Simon leaned back in his chair, as if exhausted. “Nine Hells, it's obvious. Why didn't I think of it before?”
Other than the drunk girls, they all stared at him skeptically. Think of what?
He shook his head. “Don't you see? This isn't about politics or propaganda or whatever. Remember the bats? They spread the fastest, because it was a vampire domain.”
Pam frowned. “Yeah, so?”
“So?” He shook his head again. “So this attack was to weaken the angels, the natural enemy of the vampires, and the ones most capable of fighting them. So that when the Composer starts sending them to infect the city, there's less resistance.” He gripped Yolanda's hand gently.
Delphie closed her eyes as she figured it out. “He's preparing for his end game.”
Chapter 51: INVENIRE
DEREK
“Use... the sleepers,” Derek said slowly. He rubbed his hair back. Silver and gold, that was unnecessarily cryptic. Though considering the man had been dying when he passed along the message, maybe it was the best he could do. “How, exactly?”
“That's what I thought at first,” Laura said breathlessly, as she fiddled with some device hanging from the ceiling. “We haven't had much luck with them so far. But if what Akane's singer said is true, then buried somewhere in their brains is the location of the Composer's lair.”
“Are we really planning to listen to something a singer said?” Adam asked, as Lily cleaned up the burn on his shoulder. Zaphkiel had got a few good hits in as he was escaping. “It could have been the Composer spreading false information.”
“I thought he was shooting at you the
whole time,” Lily said, as she grabbed some bandages. “Maybe he was distracted, and the singer was able to break free for a minute.”
Adam winced. “We don't have any reason to believe he can't pilot multiple screamers—or singers—at once. He's proven to be holding back before.”
Laura disagreed. “This is the first lead we have. Yes, it might be a trap. But we don't have a choice.”
He shook his head. “No, there's still that blind spot, remember? Did anyone do something with that?”
“Blind spot disappeared a little while ago,” MC said from one of the wall speakers. “The Composer seems to move around a lot.”
“Which is why we need to jump on this as soon as possible,” Laura insisted. “Soon, the sleepers won't know the way.”
Before Adam could get another word out, the doors to the lab burst open. “I did it! I finally did it!”
It was Doctor Clarke, in full surgical scrubs, holding something in his hands. He was ecstatic, jumping around like a kid at Christmas. It was at times like this that Derek was reminded he wasn't much over fifty, and in the peak of his health, not the decrepit old man he pretended to be.
Laura sighed. “What is it, Doctor? We're in the middle of something here.”
But he wouldn't be brought down that easily. He settled down a little, but he was clearly leashing his jubilation rather than squashing it. He had a childish grin on his face. Yes, “kid at Christmas” was the perfect analogy.
“Look, look!” he said, showing her something in his hand. They all leaned in close...
It was a heart. A human heart.
Laura blinked. “You... you did it? Seriously?”
Ling backed up. “I think I need to puke.”
“There's a trash can in the corner,” Clarke said off-hand. “But I finally did it! I finally managed to create a fully functioning human heart!”
Derek frowned. “So organ donation...”
“Is now completely unnecessary!” he cried. Then he backpedaled. “Well, not completely unnecessary. The heart is a relatively simple organ, for all its importance. But this is a massive step forward.”
The Composer of Screams Page 33