The Raising (The Torch Keeper Book 3)

by Steven dos Santos

  “We need reinforcements!” Another Imp cries.

  From the holos, it appears she’s stationed at the water treatment facility. Gunfire and screams fill the speakers. The troops stationed at the plant continually fire their weapons, taking down countless civilians. But they’re vastly outnumbered.

  “—lost control of the center—” her head dissolves in a violent explosion.

  That’s when the tanks explode, releasing rampaging water through the entire complex. The flood engulfs the Imps and workers alike, sweeping them away in a sea of screams.

  The holo cuts off.

  Cassius bows his head.

  “What’s the matter?” I ask. “Seems like you underestimated the effects of your new order. People would rather die than live in your brave, new world, Cassius.”

  He ignores me, instead concentrating on filtering through updates from his underlings.

  Seizing the opportunity of his distraction, I once again activate the opticom, hesitant to see what’s happened to the others, but unable to resist at the same time.

  I’m surprised and relieved to find that Corin’s feed is still active.

  Somehow, he’s managed to set his damaged ship down on the hull of a Vulture.

  He’s toggling the switches of his communicator, obviously searching for a working channel. “Lady Liberty, do you copy?”

  His only response is a stream of static. The craft’s close proximity to the Vulture must be jamming his com unit.

  “If anyone can read me,” Corin continues, “my ship’s guidance systems have been damaged. I’m not going to be able to fly this thing.”

  He continues to try and hail the Resistance, even as the Vulture he’s hitched a ride on changes course.

  Through Corin’s cockpit, I catch a bird’s eye view of the once opulent homes of the elite on the port side, now engulfed in flames. Throngs of civilians storm through the gates, engaging the stationed troops at point blank range.

  On the starboard side, the harbor’s ablaze with burning ships and smoking, collapsed docks.

  There’s another pop of static. Croakley’s voice comes through Corin’s cockpit speakers. “This is the Lady Liberty. We read you, Corin. Our ship’s weapon systems have been damaged. We’re waiting for reinforcements until we can get the systems back on line. But there’s a Vulture craft approaching. Scans show its forward batteries are spooling up. We’re running out of time.”

  I can see the Liberty now, outside the Citadel’s windows.

  And the Vulture rushing to destroy it.

  “Corin, is that you?” Cole’s voice crackles through the coms.

  “Affirmative, Little Man,” Corin replies. “You onboard the Liberty?”

  “Yes. Do you know what’s happened to my brother?”

  Corin’s voice drops. He realizes exactly what I do. “That’s a negative. Just hold on. We’re on our way.” He flicks off the com.

  My blood freezes. I can’t breathe.

  Cole, along with Croakley and the entirety of Lady Liberty’s crew, are seconds away from death.

  THIRTY

  I try to pull away from the guards, but their grip’s too tight. “Cassius. Please. Don’t fire on that ship.”

  He turns to me, eyes narrowed. “Where’s your cockiness now, Queran? Why should I spare that vessel?”

  “I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

  Cassius shakes his head. “I’m not sure what’s so special about that ship. But if it’s something that you want so desperately, then destroying it might just be the final impetus you need to shed your pitiful former existence once and for all.”

  He jams a finger onto his com system. “Fire at will.”

  The Vulture’s shadow falls over the Lady Liberty.

  “I swear I’m going to destroy you.” My voice is eerily calm, even though I’m dying inside.

  On the opticom’s feeds, Croakley sends out another transmission through Corin’s cockpit speakers. “This is the Lady Liberty. We can’t hold them off. It’s been an honor and a privilege serving with you all.”

  Corin flicks the switch on his transmitter. “Lady Liberty hang on. I have an idea.”

  “Targeting the Lady Liberty now,” the Vulture commander relays through Cassius’s com.

  My heart’s about to burst through my rib cage.

  Corin’s activating his ship’s remaining missiles—

  “Our target is locked,” the Commander announces. “Firing in three…two…”

  Corin jams his finger against the firing button and hits the eject mechanism.

  The Vulture detonates, splitting into two pieces, spewing its crew into the sky in a brilliant display of blazing sparks. The forward section of the craft nosedives right into a squadron of Squawkers, disintegrating them all.

  Cassius slumps against the console, shock, confusion, and anger warring on his face.

  I’m finally able to breathe again. “Looks like this just isn’t your day, Cassius.”

  He whirls on me. “You really think your friends have a chance? You should know that I always have a back-up plan.”

  Before I can ask, Cassius punches in a new channel on the holocam. The three dimensional image of a familiar ship’s bridge appears in the air between us.

  It’s the Flesher’s Hive ship.

  Digory’s standing still, face unreadable, eyes unblinking. Flanking him, two on either side, are the four original Fleshers.

  “Initiate the next phase of the attack sequence.” Cassius announces quite casually.

  Next phase? What the hell? Cassius has been conspiring with the Hive behind Straton’s back all this time. Not surprising. But Digory never told me a thing. Here I was feeling sorry for him, deluding myself I could reach him. He’s been playing me this whole time.

  What tears at my gut the most is the way Digory just stands there and nods. If he sees me, he doesn’t acknowledge my presence in the slightest. “Commencing deployment stat.” His fingers glide over the console, dipping into the ship’s biofluid. The panel in front of him pulsates rapidly.

  I step closer to the projection so I’m face to face with Digory’s image. “So it was all a lie, wasn’t it?”

  Finally, his empty eyes make contact with my own. “I am only doing what needs to be done.”

  His words strike a chord deep within me. I remember saying the exact same thing another lifetime ago to justify—

  My head throbs. I can’t completely block out the sounds and images: piercing screams, crowds of panicked people, a blinding mushroom cloud obliterating everything—

  As angry and hurt as I am by Digory, I empathize with his position completely. A soothing calm overtakes me.

  I would do the same thing. I have. But every action has a counteraction.

  I am only doing what needs to be done.

  “One day I’ll be saying those words to you, Digory.” I turn away, unable to bear the sight of him at that moment.

  Or is it just the part of me I see reflected in him that I can’t stand to look at?

  Cassius points toward the three-dimensional images displaying the different sectors of the Parish. “Time to quell this futile uprising once and for all.”

  All around the city, the sewer grates explode, adding to the storm of debris and shrapnel from the aerial and ground assaults. Dark plumes ooze from the newly created openings.

  And something else.

  Large silhouettes appear through the billowing smoke, dark, twisting shadows, buzzing and whirring with bright glowing lights.

  Fleshers. Legions of them pouring into the Parish streets like nightmares unleashed.

  A smug look creeps across Cassius’s face. “The civilians won’t stand a chance against their firepower.”

  My eyes are glued to the holos. Imps and civvies alike cower and crawl from these monstrosities of flesh and steel. “What about your own troops? Don’t you care?”

  He sighs. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you all along. None of that matt
ers anymore. Only the endgame.”

  New skirmishes break out all across the city and around its perimeter. Imps turn from the civvies and open fire on the invading horde instead. But most of their blasts make little impact on the Fleshers’ exoskeletons.

  Cassius’s eyes are riveted on the holos, glowing eerily in their light. “It will all be over soon.”

  Once again, I squeeze my fist closed and press my fingers against my thumb to activate the opticom feeds.

  Cage and Arrah huddle behind the mangled hull of a downed Squawker, engaged in a firefight with a couple of Imps guarding the relay station. The aerial bombardment continues around them, blowing chunks from the pavement and surrounding buildings, leaving nothing but smoking husks.

  Arrah’s eyes scan the skies. “Our people can’t hold out much longer.”

  Cage’s response is a blast of his pulsator, which takes out one of the Imps. “Looks like the odds just got a little better.”

  “Let’s rush him.” Arrah’s about to spring, when Cage grabs her.

  A squad of Imps appears from behind them, brandishing their weapons and preparing to fire.

  “At least we tried.” Cage grabs Arrah’s hand.

  Before the Imps can shoot, a group of civvies leaps from the roof of a dilapidated building, ambushing them.

  Arrah covers Cage with blasts from her pulsator, while he dashes toward the relay station.

  “Entering the initiation codes now.” Cage’s fingers work the keypad.

  A cloak of darkness eclipses the light behind them. They both whirl to find a battalion of Fleshers surrounding them.

  They don’t even have time to surrender. The Fleshers fire their weapons.

  The image flickers and dies.

  Blinking the stinging wetness from my eyes, I jam another finger into my thumb and switch to Corin’s feeds.

  He’s tangled in the remnants of his glider, working to pull himself from a pile of rubble. His hands are scratched and bloodied from clawing at the wreckage. That’s the least of his worries, though.

  A swarm of Fleshers trundles toward his location, firing at everything moving in its path.

  One of the Fleshers’ treads runs right over a civilian holding up his hands in surrender, cleaving him neatly in half. The unfortunate victim’s guts spill from his severed midsection. The Flesher rolls on, its tracks leaving a bloody, grisly trail to mark its passing.

  The Fleshers are almost on top of him. Corin manages to yank himself free. He plays dead, panicked breaths hissing loud and fast in my earpiece.

  As soon as the Flesher pack moves past, Corin springs to his feet and scrambles over and around mounds of bodies and debris. He’s dashing toward a spherical pod, half-buried in the rubble, surrounded by tangled, lifeless limbs.

  It’s an escape pod. I recognize the markings of the Lady Liberty. My pulse pistons.

  No sooner does Corin reach the pod than Cole’s face appears in the porthole.

  Corin tugs at the latch but the pod’s hatch remains sealed. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna get you out of there.” He glances behind him. More Fleshers rumble through the streets, firing at anything moving.

  A group of Imps runs by, ignoring Corin and the escape pod as they trade blasts with the encroaching Fleshers.

  After several more attempts to pry open the pod’s jammed hatch, Corin pulls out a small, silver, spherical device from his pack and turns back to the porthole.

  “Listen up, Cole. I want you to move as far back as you can and lie on your stomach with your hands over your head.”

  My chest and gut feel like they’re in an ever-tightening vise.

  Cole nods and mouths “okay” through the glass before he disappears from the window.

  Corin wastes no time attaching the explosive charge to the pod’s door. When he turns around again, he lets out a small gasp. The entire area’s crawling with Fleshers. The somber expression on his face tells me he’s probably thinking the same thing I am. Even if he manages to set Cole free, the odds of the two of them making it out of there alive are infinitesimal.

  Grotesque shadows engulf Corin and the pod. I manage to catch glimpses of Fleshers raising their appendages, ships roaring by above, and Corin’s panicked face reflected in the porthole.

  Another blast erupts on the feeds, completely obscuring the image. There’s a burst of static. The entire image cuts to black. My sweaty fingers try to adjust the device, bring the feed back. Nothing. It’s useless.

  I slump in my captors’ grasp. They’re all gone. Dahlia, Drusilla, Cage, Arrah, Corin.

  And now my brother, Cole.

  Something snaps inside of me. Cassius was right. Cole was my anchor, the last and most important link tethering me to the mundane and pathetic existence of Lucian Spark. The intense pain of this loss splinters what’s left of the dam in my brain holding Queran Embers at bay. All that hurt, all that rage bursts through, filling every vein, every cell with an overwhelming desire for vengeance.

  And the two foremost targets of my wrath are clearly visible to me now, despite the haze in my head and the burning tears streaming down my face.

  That thing that was Digory Tycho stares right at me through the holo. Blood’s trickling from its nostrils and its lips, but it doesn’t appear too concerned, continuing to integrate its systems with that of the Flesher Hive.

  I was so wrong to ever think I could reach this soulless machine. Digory died long ago back in Sanctum. Hell even before that. During the Trials. What came back was an obscene creation, wearing the remnants of his body in an effort to cause me pain and keep me off balance. My feelings for Digory don’t matter anymore. They’ve been nothing but a liability to me, and it’s freeing to finally let go.

  Many more lives will be lost today because of this abomination.

  Lives that could otherwise serve the greater good.

  Lives that could otherwise serve me.

  Which brings me to the one person who I’ll take the most pleasure in destroying.

  Cassius Thorn.

  Everything about him since the first day we met has been a complete lie. There was a time that I trusted him more than anyone in the entire world. But he turned on me, just like they all do, eventually. Because of him and everything he’s done, all my plans are in jeopardy. My vision for a new society has been compromised. And that’s something that I simply can’t tolerate. There’s a price to pay for defying me, and Cassius has earned retribution ten fold.

  “You’ve done an excellent job,” he says to the Tycho thing now. “The republic agents and citizens alike never saw it coming. It’s time to move on to the next stage of our enterprise. Have your forces finish their sweep and mop up the last of the insurrection.”

  “Initiating final sequence now,” the Tycho thing’s voice is more emotionless than ever.

  Cassius turns to me, his eyes oozing with satisfaction. “And so it is done. By the time the Hive completes its sweep, there will be nothing left to oppose me. Except of course, you.”

  “It always does seem to come down to you and me, doesn’t it?”

  He moves in closer to me. “We may not be the same people we once were, but there’s no reason why we cannot work together to resolve this pointless conflict and forge a new and better future.”

  “I prefer my independence.”

  The guards aren’t ready for my attack. Yanking one of my arms free, I grab the other’s side arm, shoot one, and then the other. They both collapse at my feet.

  Cassius goes for his own weapon, but I jam the barrel of my gun into his forehead.

  “Don’t even try. Drop your weapon and kick it across the room.”

  He follows my orders, letting go of his gun and sending it spinning across the room with the toe of his boot. “This is all such a waste. If you kill me, you’ll never leave this place alive. Think about what you’re doing.”

  A chuckle escapes me. “Oh, I’ve had plenty of time to consider my options, Cassius, and unfortunately, none of them include
forging an alliance with the likes of you. Unfortunately, for you, that is.”

  Something cold presses against my neck.

  “I suggest you drop your weapon at once and release him, my son.”

  I’d never forget the terrible timbre of that voice.

  Prior Delvecchio.

  “What’s to stop me from shooting Thorn before you shoot me?” I ask.

  “Nothing,” Delvecchio responds, “except for your admirable sense of self-preservation. Once Thorn is disposed of, your bargaining abilities will be greatly diminished. Observe.”

  The cold steel lifts from my neck.

  There’s a blast which nearly blows out my eardrums.

  Cassius’s eyes open wide. Then he collapses onto the floor.

  If there’s anyone more surprised at Delvecchio’s actions than I am, it’s Cassius.

  Despite the trickle of blood spurting from the wound in his arm, his eyes are narrowed into slits. He slides his body backwards until it’s pressed against one of the marble columns. “You’ll pay for this, old man,” he hisses through clenched teeth.

  My eyes pivot from Cassius to Delvecchio. “I can’t say I’m completely surprised. I always knew you two would turn on each other. I just didn’t think it would happen so soon.” I nod at Delvecchio’s still raised weapon. “What are you waiting for? I’m sure you’ve been anticipating this moment for quite some time. Go ahead. Take another life for your bloodthirsty deity.”

  Delvecchio releases a drawn out breath. “My poor, ignorant child. You still do not realize your significance in all of this.” He waves his arms, encompassing the entire Parish in this gesture. “Today marks the culmination of years of hard work in service to our almighty Deity.”

  Cassius and I exchange glances. It’s obvious that for once, he isn’t quite sure what’s going on. His usual cool, confident arrogance has been replaced by confusion and anxiety. Slowly, he braces against the pillar and pulls himself to his feet.