“Didn’t think so.” A flick of her arm sent the lash outward, cutting the demonic ramble short.
The tip scored a light grey burn across the black, leathery ribcage. It stumbled away, unable to hide the surprise at feeling so much pain. The demon snarled, yellow-green fumes leaking through its teeth.
“Not the easy meal you were expecting?” Kirsten circled to the right, keeping the lash moving. No wonder it’s scared, I must look like a Seraphim to it right now. All I’m missing are the wing ribbon things.
It reached to the side and swiped hard to the left. A crate flew into the air, crashing into Kirsten’s crossed arms and knocking her onto the table. Her sweaty skin slid right over it, and she fell off the far side. Stunned from pain, she curled up on the cold floor and plucked a few large splinters out of her forearm. The demon laughed and loosed a low, throaty growl at Miranda, who had just brought the pistol to bear.
She screamed again and yanked the wardrobe doors shut. Kirsten grabbed the top of the table and pulled herself standing, leaning on it for a few seconds until her legs decided to work again. The creature spun on her, palm extended. Another coffin-sized crate leapt into the air. This one was empty and it flew much faster and higher than the creature expected, exploding against the ceiling. Kirsten ducked the shower of soybean shells and wood fragments, and charged. She made a shoving gesture with her left hand, attacking the abyssal’s paranormal essence.
A contest of strength, tipped in her favor by a memory of Evan’s face, flung the dark spirit into the wall with enough force to crack cinderblocks. It bounced to the floor, rolling onto its chest with the scrape of shell on stone. Kirsten stood over it; the coiling lash grew to a length of almost fifteen feet. The shimmering blue-white light added to her illusion of feeling like a Seraphim.
One black-clawed hand sprang forth and grabbed her leg. With a contemptuous sneer, she pulled the lash around and through the rising demon. The tendril coiled around its chest, wrapping it and lifting it off the ground. She raised her arm and snapped it, flinging the enormous skeleton first into the ceiling, then the ground. The entire damn house is going to hear this. She took a step back, grabbed the lash with both hands, and spun in a motion that hurled the demon across the room and smashed a new hole in the cinderblocks. It floundered, arms scratching at the ground to pull itself upright as the slap of bare feet running on concrete drowned beneath her angry roar. A surge of psionic power brought her weapon to a blinding glow. The creature’s eyes widened as she jumped into a final strike that reduced the abyssal into a cloud of smoke. Kirsten backed up, covered in sweat, blood, and dust, gasping for breath as the inky smear drew into itself with a great rush of inhaling wind.
Miranda peered through the doors, her face lit by a narrow strip of light. “A-are you an angel?”
Kirsten let the lash dissipate into streams of fading light and walked over. “No, I’m just borrowing the uniform.” She picked up the robe and stuck her head through, letting the cloth fall around her body. “I think I saw one once.” She hiked it up and ran to the door. “Come on, I’m leaving.”
Miranda recovered the pistol and followed. “Sorry I didn’t help you with that… thing. You want the gun? You’re the cop.”
“Don’t be. The gun wouldn’t have done a damn thing but piss it off. You better keep it so you’re not helpless; I have a weapon.”
She stomped across the basement, as much as one can stomp with no boots, and slapped the door control by where she had entered. Two security guards in the man-cave went for weapons at the sight of her. Kirsten held her arms out and knocked the one on the right to the ground with a mind blast. Miranda shot the other one. Kirsten caught herself subconsciously gesturing like the sorceress from the Monwyn world with each blast and blushed. Must be the robe. The noise of Miranda firing at another man dispelled her fleeting amusement. He dove left, triggering twice as he fell. Miranda hit the ground screaming. Kirsten thrust her arm at him, rising onto her toes as she channeled another mind blast; the attack left him limp and drooling. That time, she almost chanted Invocatus Penumbratus.
“You hit?”
“No, but I just about pissed myself,” said Miranda. “I think a bullet nipped my hair. I just steal stuff; I don’t shoot people.”
Kirsten ran up the spiral stairway, paralyzed by the sight at the top―gold dragon doorknobs. Evan saw gold dragons devouring me… She glanced down into the basement, the dragon’s “belly.” She shivered, her eyes started to water, but she got angry. Kirsten shoved the elaborate doors open and strode into the corridor. Security guard after security guard emerged from side rooms, falling one after the next to a series of mind blasts. A few bullets whizzed overhead.
Barefoot, in a black robe, waving her arms around and ‘slaying’ foes with magic. The scene felt like some twisted cosplay LARP based on Xiana, the Black Sorceress―only Kirsten’s “magic” wouldn’t make them get back up as skeletons. Some of Xiana’s lines from the vid echoed in her head, but she choked on them―too worried about Evan to speak. The more she thought about that fantasy world, the more she needed to have him next to her on the couch, watching one.
Miranda followed close, aiming her gun at each man, but not firing as they went down. “Are they dead?”
“No, but when they wake up, they’ll probably spend a few hours wishing they were.” Just like I will in the morning. The women fought their way through the mansion to Konstantin’s bedroom. Kirsten slumped into the wall with a hand on the side of her head. Oh, yeah. It hurts.
Finding the doors locked, Kirsten leaned back and kicked. They rattled. “Ugh, this is so much easier with heavy boots.” She threw herself into it and bounced away. Another kick stunned her foot and left her hopping. “Give me a hand?”
Miranda nodded and backed up.
Both women rushed it, breaking through and stumbling to a halt a short distance later. The stink of burned hair hung in the room. Her purse, and the E-90, sat at the center of his desk as if dropped in a hurry. She reclaimed her weapon, refusing to look at the bed, and kissed the NetMini when she found it in her purse, turned off.
“What stinks?”
Kirsten tapped the NetMini, willing it to boot up faster. “Some idiot tried to fire my service weapon.”
Miranda’s face gave away she knew all about police trigger interlocks. “Ouch.”
“It’s no worse than a stunrod to a grown man.”
Chimes came from the NetMini.
“Siri, send a call for backup right away. Try to call Nila or Evan too.”
“Why did you turn me off, Kirsten? You know I don’t like it when you turn me off.”
She pointed the E-90 at her NetMini. “I wasn’t the one who turned you off.”
“Calling now.”
“Girl,” said Miranda. “Time for a new phone. That one’s got attitude.”
Kirsten rolled her eyes. “Don’t get me started.”
“So, umm. Thanks for getting me outta there. I’m gonna get lost before the place is swarming with blue and whites.”
“You’ve got probably eighteen shots left in that thing. We don’t know how many men he’s got on his security team. Are you wanted right now?”
“I don’t think so.” Miranda gnawed on her knuckle. “I didn’t want to risk it… What’s the point of getting away from one cage just to wind up in another?”
“The police won’t sacrifice you to demons.”
“Good point.” Miranda plopped down on the end of the bed.
hattering teeth seemed as loud as thunder as Kirsten paced in a circle. Men shouted downstairs, barking orders to search the grounds and ensure no one got out. From the sound of it, Kirsten felt better about just staying in the bedroom. They think we went outside already. She shivered each time her foot hit the rug, each time the sheer silk robe brushed over her body. Each time she glanced toward Miranda seated on the foot of the bed, she cringed. Kirsten tried biting her nails, but the sight of the redness around her wrists just made her angrier.
&
nbsp; Rage and shame got into a fencing match over what Konstantin did to her. The worst part of it was he made her want him to. Mercifully, much of what happened came back muted by the effect of his mental influence. Blurry bits and pieces of the previous few weeks fast disintegrated into a haze of amnesia. With each passing minute, it seemed less and less real. I should be happy he charmed me. Maybe when it wears off I won’t even remember how rough his hands are. She gurgled.
Sirens emerged from the distance, drawing Kirsten to the outer window. Most of the horizon glittered violet with the mixture of red and blue lights. Kirsten spun away from the view and grabbed the NetMini. She swiped at the screen, placing a vid call to Operations. The holographic face of a dispatcher appeared.
“This is an official―”
“Agent Kirsten Wren, Division Zero. ID W396-I0039. I just called in for a backup request at this location. Patch me through to the senior. I have visual on what looks like twenty units approaching.”
“One moment. Verifying your ID.” The color of the hologram head changed, as her file photo lit up in front of him. “Sorry, Agent. What the heck are you wearing?”
Her face flushed red. “It’s a long damn story.”
“Fair enough.” The hologram changed to a black woman with crimson hair, a small scar from left eye to chin. “Agent? Good to see you alive. What happened to you?”
“Sergeant Reed?” Kirsten squinted at the barely-visible nameplate.
“Yes. What’s your situation? Your Siri said you were abducted?”
“Yeah, this asshole has a private dungeon, but I got out. I’m on the third floor now with one victim. We are both armed, so please don’t shoot any females in black robes.”
“Ma’am, please remain at your current location until we secure the area.”
“Hurry up! He’s going after my son.”
“Understood.”
She stuffed the NetMini back in her purse and threw the strap over her head. Pacing again, she squeezed the rubberized handle of her weapon as though it were a stress ball. Thudding footsteps in the hallway grew louder. She raised the E-90, aiming it with both hands at the door. When they opened, a man in a dark suit carrying a rifle froze in his tracks, staring at her.
Kirsten squinted. Her eyes flickered. “ Drop it.”
The rifle clattered to the ground.
She pointed. “Go surrender to the police.”
He slumped and trudged out with the stagger of a zombie.
“Damn, that’s fucking handy.” Miranda stood and got clingy again. “Shit, I could make so much money with a trick like that.”
Kirsten was grateful for the robes. “Psionics who do that run into us.” She winked, then sighed. “It’s also why no one trusts suggestives. We tend to get shot in the head from long range when the government declares us dangerous.”
“Like animals.” Miranda sent a guilty look at her toes. “I’m sorry.”
“Human nature makes people fear what they can’t explain or think they can’t defend against.” Police loudspeakers shouted outside, demanding surrender. “You may have been raised to fear us, but at least you have the choice to learn.” A few gunshots popped in the distance; Kirsten glanced at the window. “Wow, idiots. Look, I won’t BS you. Some psionics are every bit as dangerous as people fear. That’s what my unit is for. It just pisses me off when the bible-beaters get all high and mighty. One kook kills people in the name of God, and the religious wingnuts say not to judge them all by the actions of one person. When a psionic does something wrong, those same people are crying for public burnings of all of us.”
“It’s just the one guy. Reverend Harris or whatever. People know he’s crazy. I used to be terrified of psionics, but I never met one before. I mean, we met under some pretty crazy, fucked up circumstances, but you’re nothing at all like I expected. You’re nice.”
“Thanks.” At the sound of the downstairs doors being kicked in, Kirsten squirmed out of the hug and ran into the hallway. “Come on.”
She went right, toward the sound of fighting. Around a corner, two men with rifles fired down over a railing into the open center of the house. Kirsten sighted and shot before they could turn on her. The first laser seared a fatal path through the chest of the near man and burned a hole in the other one’s thigh. He crawled away, raising his hands. Kirsten padded toward him, but after taking three steps on frigid hardwood, she stopped.
Her eyes flared white; the man grabbed his head, howled, and passed out.
“What the fuck?” Miranda gawked. “He was surr―”
“He was trying to lure me close enough for vibro claws.” Kirsten moved against the wall, aiming over the railing at the ground floor. Several of Konstantin’s security men traded bullets through the front window with the police. “He’s not dead. Stay back, get down.”
“How did you know… did you read his mind? What about privacy?”
Kirsten put a laser through a man downstairs. “I tend to bend rules a little when people try to kill me.” She fired again, wounding another. “And threaten my son.”
A man leapt over his cover, trying to put a broken column between himself and Kirsten. She shot through it, a chance hit disabling his arm.
“You have two seconds to surrender.” An amplified man’s voice shook the windows from outside.
Two men downstairs fired up through the floor. Kirsten, shrieking, dove away from a geyser of plaster and wood fragments. She rolled into the corridor, dragging Miranda behind.
Shimmering green light flooded the area, followed by howls. As men shouted their surrender, Kirsten crawled to the railing. The clatter of dropped rifles filtered through the smoke that filled the main foyer. A sixteen-foot-long burn mark in the front wall corresponded to a matching ember trail on the floor. Outside, a Division One patrol craft hovered, the anti-vehicle Starburst laser extended from its pod and glowing.
Miranda squeezed Kirsten from behind. “They… shot that at people?”
“Cops get a little testy when you fire on them. They don’t really like it much.” Kirsten shoved off the floor and stood, running for the stairs. “Technically, they fired it at the floor. The first one’s a warning.”
Sergeant Reed was out front, rifle aimed over the hood of her patrol craft. The police line advanced on the handful of remaining private security men, taking them into custody. Kirsten sprinted through them, skidding to a halt on the wet grass outside. She had forgotten how far north they were, and her toes were already numb. She resisted the instinct to scream at the sudden shock, but could not stop her teeth from chattering.
“Reed, thanks for the save. This is Miranda; Konstantin kidnapped her as well. I saw nothing to indicate she was abused while in captivity, but I am confident he meant to murder her at some later date.”
“Serial?” asked Reed.
“No, maleficar. He was sacrificing them to summon demons.”
“Agent, we have a MedVan on the way. You’ve obviously been through a traumatic experience.”
“I’m not crazy. Dammit, the man is after my son. I need your car.”
“ I can’t let you run off half-naked and obviously in a state of mental distress.”
“ Car, now.” Kirsten’s eyes glowed.
Reed blinked and moved away from the driver’s seat. Kirsten pushed Miranda into her. “Let the medics check her out, she could be traumatized.”
Kirsten jumped in, pulled the door closed, and chucked the E-90 into the passenger seat. With Sergeant Reed staring dumbfounded, Kirsten hauled the patrol craft into the sky and swerved south. The pedals felt odd without shoes; a long time in service left the carved diamond-pattern on the control sticks worn smooth. The Starburst laser and its assorted components added weight, which made the handling more sluggish than her Division Zero car.
After keying in a nav pin for Nila’s apartment, she climbed past the altitude of the highest building and rammed the throttle all the way forward. Numbers fluttered by on the windscreen, rapid cycling slow
ed as they edged into the mid three hundreds. Hot air from the heating system brought feeling back to her toes. Alone at last, with nothing to do but wait for her travel to end, she cried from worry and kneaded the joysticks. Her NetMini AI had failed to reach either Nila or Evan; attempts to call both of them rang to vidmail every time.
Captain Eze’s head shimmered in over the console. “Wren, what the hell happened to you? They’re telling me you just stole a Div One pat-vee?”
“Commandeering, sir. You were right about Konstantin. You were all right.” She gathered herself, barely holding back the urge to break down. “He was manipulating me somehow.” She showed off her bare right wrist. “That bracelet he gave me… I don’t know what it was, I wanna call it magic, but that’s fucking crazy. There was an entity in it, making me do things.”
“Are you hurt? Why didn’t you stay on the scene?”
“He’s going after Evan, Captain. He said my ‘little friend’ was the last thing he needed for his plan. He’s gonna kill my little boy and…” The car took over driving while she covered her face with both hands. Safety systems slowed her down to 180 mph.
“Wren, focus. Stay with me. Where are you?”
Kirsten sucked in a breath and wiped her eyes. She grabbed the sticks and went back to almost four hundred miles per hour. The acceleration pinned her in the rigid rubber cushions. Seats made for armored bodies were not too kind to an ass protected only by a layer of thin silk. “Nila’s. Evan would be there; she takes him home if I’m working late.”
“We got no alarm calls. I’ll meet you there.”
“Sam Chang in Div Two has all the file details. Konstantin’s the one that’s been summoning this shit all along. I’m so fucking stupid.” Kirsten punched the dashboard, then cradled her throbbing fist to her gut. “I should have listened to someone.”
“It was the charm.” He stared at her. “Evan needs you calm right now. I’ll see you there.”
Alarms went off from the navigation system. She yanked back on the left hand stick. Automatic passive restraints wrapped her torso as small airbrake flaps opened all around the exterior of the hovercar as the forward drive cut out. As her speed dipped below two hundred, negative thrusters fired, dragging the car to a near standstill from 390 miles per hour to nothing in a little over five seconds. Kirsten wheezed, gasping for breath. Downdraft from a reckless landing on the pool platform blew six people into the water and sent a dozen more falling over each other to get away.
Division Zero: Thrall Page 38