by Faith Hunter
Mateo hesitated, and finally settled on, “Good for him.”
I blew out a breath. Jagger knew stuff he wasn’t telling me. More evidence my hold on him wasn’t complete. So . . . yeah. Good.
Through a different window and the eyes of a different cat, I saw what looked like a dormitory or a barracks, bunk beds everywhere, men sleeping on some, others vacant, all the linens filthy, gray camo hanging haphazardly here and there. Another window showed a woman administering meds to another woman. A guard held a weapon on them. There was a door with a deadbolt in the background. No one put a deadbolt inside a house unless it was to keep weapons or valuables safe or hold prisoners. I had no idea how many more secure doors were in the place.
In the back of the house on the second story I saw an office that was set up like a hunting lodge, lots of taxidermied animal heads on the wood-paneled walls. Leather chairs. Six men sat around a table, playing cards. Half were wearing neat gray camo and the others were dressed in expensive clothes. The clean clothing, the cigars, the liquor in crystal glasses said these were the men I was looking for.
“Jolene, put up a pic of Deputy Darson.”
I opened my eyes to see a digital of the deputy on my faceplate. Gotcha, you piece of garbage.
“Darson is on premises, second story, rear of the building. Six men in one room. It has a view of the far side of the hill the house is perched on. He’s with the …” I stopped and started laughing.
“What?” Jagger demanded.
“You remember the intel that the president of the MS Angels went running from Warhammer? He’s here. Guess what, Jagger? You get to take out the OMW’s worst enemy, Rico “Three Fingers” Garcia Perez.”
Jagger said nothing.
“That means this cabin is more fortified than my sensors show,” Mateo said.
I sent Spy a message vision instructing her to find a way inside. “Let’s see where the prisoners are,” I whispered to the cat. Spy slithered to the ground and into the shadows. The black male cat followed. They slipped in through an open window.
Mateo said, “Got a glimpse of good shielding on Spy’s camera beneath the wallboard. Might be military stuff.”
Visions of the house showed filthy back rooms. The kitchen was a horror. A communal bathroom was unspeakable, and Spy let me know that humans were disgusting and needed to be taught how to use a litterbox.
Spy and the black cat slinked silently through the house, sniffing things I was glad I couldn’t smell. They glided up and down stairs, investigating rooms where they could, bypassing areas with too many people or too many closed doors.
“You getting this, Mateo?” I asked.
“Affirmative. Floor plans underway.”
I described what I had seen of the house from the cats’ vantages. On a small area of my faceplate, floor plans came into view. “Nice,” I said. “Mateo, points of entry?”
“We need to know where the two women in the front room end up when the shooting starts. See if the cats can find a secure position outside that room but with visual on the doors.”
“Okay.” I sent Spy a request while Mateo, the wartime CO, gave orders.
“We fire on three. Jagger, Cupcake. When I say the word, take out the armed guards in front and start picking off anyone who reaches for a weapon. Amos, get into position in back and eliminate the guard on the hillside. Jacopo, you say you can shoot. Take the guard on the left of the house. That’s a tricky shot. I’ve got the heavy weapons. I’m set to take out the cannon and eradicate the garage doors, the front door, and, if the women are gone, the main front window.”
“Roger that,” we all said.
“Once the enemy combatants are down out front, Cupcake and Jacopo, you cover the outside and the driveway. Amos enters from the back, Jagger from the front door or window, whichever comes down first. Smith,” he said, meaning me, to keep my name from Jacopo, on the off-chance he didn’t already know it, “you go through the garage doors. Keep all positional monitors active so I can coordinate if needed.”
“Roger that,” Cupcake said.
“Send in the cats,” Mateo said.
“All cats go,” I whispered to Spy. “Find the prisoners. Disable their guards.”
I had a view of more cats leaping through the open window.
“OK. On three,” Mateo said. “One.”
I slammed down my face shield. Jolene shot me full of battle chemicals. My heart raced. Breathing deepened. My suit fed me higher oxygen levels.
“Two.”
I stood, activated the armor’s antirecoil and hardening features.
“Three.”
The barrage started.
The laser cannon poking out of the building took a direct hit and exploded. Logs, splinters, and shielding flew.
The armed men out front died.
The garage doors blew apart, Tesla shielding flying. Decapitating a man aiming into the woods.
I raced toward the house. Men in gray camo began to fall.
I sped across the open parking area. Ducked under flying debris.
The workers who reached for weapons were picked off behind me.
The workers who cowered and rolled under vehicles were spared. For now.
I ducked inside. Shotgun in hand. Two bodies slumped against the back wall. Hamburger.
Form in the doorway. Gray camo. Weapon. I fired. He slid down the wall.
I advanced, took out three more. Then more. “Garage clear. Entry hallway to the house, clear. All the men from the front room ran this way. All down.”
“Sending out two female prisoners. Hold fire,” Jagger said. A moment later, he said, “Front room clear.” From inside the house a shot fired. Another. “Hallway clear left and right. Stairway to upper level, clear,” Jagger said.
“Back entrance, clear,” Amos said. “Heading up back stairs.”
I stumbled forward. Dizzy, disoriented. Shivering. Transition sickness combined with the vision of seven cats as they sped toward two guards who were entering a room. The cats threw themselves upon the men. Claws cutting, fangs biting, screeching. I fell against a wall.
Two women in the room attacked the men too. My cat-sight resolved into one set of eyes, Spy’s. A white-haired woman took a weapon from a guard and put two shots into his head. Two shots into the other one. Two women in front of the group were now armed and clearly had training. The other women were staring at the bodies and cats.
Some cats sped away, back down the hall, following Spy’s order, which was a visual of coyotes. Confusing, until I realized she was calling the men wild dogs and ordering her cats to watch and attack.
Spy stood atop one dead body, made eye contact with the white-haired woman, and hissed. It was a “follow me” command. Spy leaped out the door, looked back, and hissed again. The woman opened her mouth, shocked, and said, “I think we just got rescued by a bunch a cats. Carol, you’re the best shot. At our six. Let’s move.” Spy sped down the hallway following the black male cat. Cats zigged and zagged. Clearing the rooms. Sounding alarms.
“The women are heading toward the back stairs,” I said. “Cats leading.”
My sensors showed movement. I shoved upright, turned toward the shape. Almost fired, until I saw the pink. Amos.
He discharged a shot off to my left, and a body fell. “Hell yeah,” he said. “This is fun!” He whirled, and took off, shouting, “I got the back stairs. I’ll take the women into the woods.”
“Where are the men from the upstairs lounge?” I asked into comms.
All I got back was the sound of Jagger clearing rooms and firing.
Amos called out to the women. “I’m with the fucking cats! This way!”
“Amos. Six men, the top brass, somewhere in the house.”
“Amos. Stop on the stairs,” a young voice said, the words sharp. “A hidden door opened on the back of the house. Six men. Three in MS Angels camo.” Jacopo. Good tactical awareness, maneuvering to cover the back. “All heavily armed,” he said. “Ther
e’s two Outlander Vehicles. Take all of the men out?”
“Make sure the MSAs are all taken out,” I said. “I want the deputy alive, but I don’t care if he’s in good shape or not.”
Shots rang out.
A sensor pinged. A blow hit my back. I’d been shot. It hurt. I pivoted. Fired. Again. Again. Again. Changed out magazines as two bodies fell.
“All down,” Jacopo said, calmly. “Deputy needs a knee-replacement med-bay. Others need caskets.”
“Jagger,” I asked. “House clear?”
“Roger that. All clear.”
“Get the women out,” I said.
“Covering the back of the house as the prisoners are exfil’ed,” Jacopo said. “Will target and take out anything else that moves.”
“Got it, Marconi,” Amos said. “Let’s go, ladies.”
I walked to the front room and looked out the busted window. Discovered that all the men outside were dead except for one. Cupcake strode to him and shot him in the head. Cupcake was scary.
I moved through the house and out the back. I swiveled and studied the house. Far as I could tell, there was no damage to the log wall. Jacopo hadn’t missed. He was scary too.
Darson was lying on his side, moaning. I walked to him and kicked him flat. I relaxed the suit hardening and squatted beside him. Shoved up my face shield and gave him my scariest smile. “Hey. I need info. Your only chance to live is to tell me everything.” He rolled his head side to side, moaning. I thought about the women in the campground. The women here. I pulled off a glove and held my hand above his neck. Warhammer’s nanobots were all through him. I could feel the vibrations of the nanos in his flesh, in his blood, just as I had felt Marty’s contagion.
I regloved and said, casually, “You were going to take out the head of the MS Angels for her, weren’t you? And then Marconi. Talk to me or die.”
He groaned and shook his head no.
“That was your one and only chance. You won’t die easy,” I said.
I stood and looked at the others. “Toss him into the truck bed. Jacopo. Tell your father that he just inherited a house. It’s a little beat up, but it can be reno’ed.”
Jagger looked as if he was going to argue for OMW territory, so I added, “Tell him it’s a gift from the OMW.” Jagger started laughing.
“Thank you, Ms. Smith. I’m sure my father will be appropriately appreciative.”
I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I’d take the win. “Let’s get the women treated and dressed. Make sure they have money and trade goods and a way out of here.” I checked the time and was shocked to see that the battle had lasted a total of fourteen minutes. Seemed like forever.
∆∆∆
Jagger and Amos made the trip to the scrapyard on bikes liberated from the log cabin. Jacopo, blindfolded and loosely bound, sat in Amos’s dirty recliner. Cupcake drove and didn’t sing, thankfully. I was feverish, sick, sleeping on the foldout bed with the cats, the odor of the litterbox not helping my nausea. My fever was high enough that Cupcake kept stopping the rig and changing out my ice bags with fresh ice she had taken from the log cabin. Wasting water on me. I got a case of giggles thinking about that, but I had no idea why it was funny. Delirious maybe.
We got to the junkyard in the middle of the night, and found the other rigs parked out front, drivers asleep inside each, the hired armed guards sitting in strategic places. Mateo’s security measures had kept the drivers and hired guns out. Our secrets were still secure. The cats raced from the cab and disappeared, probably to share their experiences with the others. I sat on the ground at the entrance and leaned against the pillar that hid weaponry. I was shaking so hard I thought I might rattle my brains. My temp was really high. I needed the med-bay, but I had things to take care of.
Cupcake displaced the guards and the drivers, tossed Enrico to the ground from where he had been sleeping in one of the cabs, then drove each of the rigs into the scrapyard and deposited the containers at the back near the SunStar. The empty rigs drove off, leaving Jagger, Cupcake, Amos, Enrico (still trussed up like a turkey), Jacopo (who was now allowed to see what little there was to see in the dark), Darson, and me. I noted that the sign advertising the scrapyard was down. Mateo, thinking ahead, had removed it.
Cupcake gave Jacopo a pair of gloves and made sure he put them on securely. “Daddy wanted you to see the med-bay,” she said. “Come on.” They walked into the dark.
Jagger unloaded two more matte-black motorbikes from my rig. I hadn’t noted him taking them at the log cabin. Smart man. Cupcake reappeared soon after, took Jacopo’s gloves, and poured some precious water into a basin. She dropped in the gloves. “Step in,” she directed him. He did. “Stomp around some,” she added. He looked incredulous but followed the order.
Smart woman. Killing my nanobots.
“Get on the bike,” she ordered. “You’ll leave when Jagger does.” Jacopo shrugged a lot like his father had and straddled the bike. He clearly thought we were all deranged.
Jagger and Jacopo waited outside the gates, Jagger keeping his charge safe from my nanobots. Cupcake grabbed Darson’s collar and dragged him into the night. The screams started instantly, but before he cut comms, I heard Mateo say, “You don’t need that thumb. Tell me where Warhammer is.” He’d find where the other queen was. Where Evelyn was. I felt no pity at all.
Cupcake walked back to the entrance, her skirt swishing. She had changed into a frilly dress, which was weird.
“I want in,” Amos said, before I could even start talking. “You need a guy like me. I like cats. I like junk. I like fighting. And I like Cupcake.”
I felt Cupcake flush. Bloody hell. She liked Amos. As in liked. “Walk with us,” I said. I held up my hand and Cupcake pulled me to my feet. We three walked away from Jagger and Jacopo. I said, “This isn’t a short-term job, Amos. I’m sick. Think of it like a type of plague. You stay, you will get sick. When you get well, you will never want to leave. You will never leave,” I emphasized. “Smith’s Junk and Scrap is in the middle of nowhere, in the West Virginia desert. Closest town is Naoma, which is where you’ll have to bunk until I heal Enrico.”
“Will I infect other people?”
“No.”
He pursed his mouth and moved his jaw side to side, as if thinking. “Fine. Long as I can’t infect people. I packed all my gear and turned in the keys on my rental. I’m staying.”
“We’re going to war soon, and you don’t even know why. This isn’t your fight.”
He waved a hand in the air as if flapping away something stinky. “I’m good with all that shit on one condition. If Cupcake would consider having dinner with me tonight.”
“Me?” she squeaked.
“Sexiest thang I ever saw in my life was you in that armor targeting an enemy and takin’ ’em out, one by one. I’d be honored to buy you a steak as big as Texas.”
“There’s only one restaurant in Naoma. I’m wearing a dress,” she bargained, “meaning wine, not beer, and no peanuts on the floor.”
“I’ll pick you up an hour before sunset. In a car. And I’ll have flowers.”
“Flowers?” She looked at me and said, “Holy shit. What am I supposed to do with flowers?”
Jolene interrupted. “Put them in a vase with water and every time you see ’em, think of the great guy who brought them to you.”
“What she said,” Amos said.
“Okay,” I said, knowing I would be making another thrall, but not seeing a way out of it and honestly too sick to really care. “You’re hired. Cupcake. Send his Morphon directions to the boardinghouse in Naoma. Make arrangements for a room there.” I had never said those words. But I had trade goods, cash, and jewels. Financially, I wasn’t hurting for the first time in my life. “And Cupcake, you know where to deposit Enrico.”
“Got it. I’ll see you tonight,” Cupcake said to Amos, punching info into her Morphon. “And remember. No peanuts.” With a little wave, she hauled Enrico off, and Amos puttered away into
the dark on one of the appropriated motorbikes. Jagger motioned Jacopo to stay with the bikes and cut comms. I cut mine, leaving Jagger and me alone in the night.
I studied the OMW enforcer, wondering what my latest transition would do to him. To us. “What did McQuestion say about Jacopo?”
“I put Marconi and him in contact. McQuestion negotiated an arrangement with Marconi. Marconi gets his daughter in exchange for Jacopo.”
“Mutual hostages,” I said, thinking about an OMW daughter sitting beside Mina at Marconi’s dinner table. I wondered how long it would it be before the assassin shoved a pencil through her temple into her brain. I shook the thought away.
“What about us?” Jagger asked.
“I’m sick. There may be no us. You might be free of our nanobot connection after this transition.”
“Nanobots or no,” he said, giving me a half smile, “we got something between us.”
“You’re the enforcer. You don’t get to have relationships outside the OMW.”
“Little Girl, there are ways. It’s been done before.” He stepped to me and enclosed me in his arms. He felt cool against my feverish skin. He kissed me gently, as if aware that my chapped lips hurt. “Contact me when you find Warhammer. I’m part of your war now.”
“We’ll see how you feel after this transition,” I said. “Meantime, let me go. I got things to do. A war to plan.”
Jagger couldn’t resist a direct order. He backed away. Which broke my heart.
“Take Jacopo through back roads until he’s lost and can’t find his way here. Then you and he go to McQuestion and deal with this little hostage situation. Go do the OMW thing; be the enforcer and his little crack-shot Hells Angels sidekick.”
Jagger cursed and walked into the dark. I heard two bikes start up, one a Harley, one a Kawasaki. They too motored into the dark, heading in a direction away from Naoma. My heart breaking, my steps unsteady, I walked to the office. Enrico was blindfolded, still bound, and leaning against the office when I stooped and placed my hands on his face again. I pushed with my blood and my nanobots, speeding his transition.