by Derek Landy
eavy doors slammed shut, alarms wailed and all around them Cleavers were appearing. Mages burst from a hidden tunnel, hands and eyes glowing with power, flames burning in their palms. It was a trap. It was a trap and they’d all walked right into it.
“Nobody,” said a narrow man as he approached, “move.”
Vex looked at the others, making sure they weren’t about to do something stupid. Then he looked at Tanith and her gang. Annis was whipping her head around, eyes wide in alarm, but as yet her skin wasn’t turning blue, so that was a good sign. Wilhelm shrieked, of course, and Tanith stayed calm, a slightly mocking smile on her face.
The narrow man’s name was Palaver Graves. When Grand Mage Strom had been killed, Cothernus Ode moved up to take his place, and Graves in turn had stepped in to fill Ode’s place as an Elder. Vex hadn’t had much to do with him over the years, had met him once or twice, but had no idea if he liked him or not.
“Look at all you pesky little flies,” said Graves slowly, enjoying the moment, “all trapped helplessly in my web.”
Yeah, Vex was pretty sure he didn’t like this guy.
“Dexter Vex,” said Graves. “Saracen Rue. Gracious O’Callahan. Three Irish mages breaking into the English Sanctuary to steal a weapon of unstoppable power... some might say that is reason enough to go to war.”
“This has nothing to do with the Irish Sanctuary,” said Saracen. “We’re here on our own behalf.”
“Yes, yes,” Graves said, “you would say that, wouldn’t you? And who do you have with you? Frightening Jones, operative from the largest Sanctuary in Africa. Donegan Bane, rogue English mage.”
“I’m a rogue,” said Donegan, sounding pleased.
“And Aurora Jane,” Graves finished, “an American mage who has betrayed her own Sanctuary. You should all be ashamed of yourselves.”
Aurora nodded. “I’ve decided,” she said. “I don’t like you.”
Vex looked at her. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
“And me,” said Frightening.
“Me, too,” said Tanith.
“Ah, yes,” Graves said, switching his attention to the other group, “and here we have the infamous Tanith Low. Now then, is this the corrupted evil killer version, or do you still have the Remnant inside you?”
He chuckled at his little joke. Tanith smiled, but said nothing.
“It’s been fun,” Graves said, “watching you all sneak in, all stealthy and quiet. Obviously, we’ve been expecting you since Johann Starke reported the dagger missing eight hours ago. Once we heard of the trouble in Chicago, we reasoned that it was only a matter of time before the thief, or thieves, would try to add the sword to their collection. I have to admit, however, having two sets of rival robbers fall into my trap at the same time, well... that was an unexpected bonus.”
This time, Tanith laughed.
“I’m so glad you find this as amusing as I do,” said Graves, laughing along with her.
“More amusing, actually.”
“Oh, I doubt it.”
“No, really,” said Tanith. “I’d say I’m far more amused at this moment than you could possibly be.”
Annoyance dimmed the smile on Graves’s face. “And why is that? Are you amused by your own stupidity? Are you amused by the prospect of spending the rest of your miserable life in a prison cell with your powers bound?”
“Nope,” Tanith said. “I’m just amused at your definition of a trap, that’s all.”
Graves made a point of looking at all of his mages and Cleavers before looking back at her. “You’re surrounded,” he said. “Outgunned. Outmatched. Outmanoeuvred.”
“But not outsmarted.”
“Is that so? You think you’re smarter than me, is that it? You’re a thug, Miss Low. Oh, yes, I know all about you. You were trained as an assassin, then diversified into mercenary activities, before finding yourself as a freelance bounty hunter. You like to fight. That’s all you like to do. Whereas I am a scholar. I have dedicated my life to the languages of magic. I have peeled back secrets and explored hidden truths.”
“Doesn’t make you smarter than me,” Tanith said. “Just more boring.”
Graves’s patience was wearing thin, and it was showing on his face. “Throw down your weapons and put your hands in the air. And somebody turn that bloody siren off, it’s giving me a headache.”
Tanith grinned, but did as she was told, laying her sword on the ground. Gracious and Donegan surrendered their guns. The Cleavers swarmed, shackles at the ready, and a moment later the wailing ceased and the heavy doors opened. Vex held out his hands for a shiny set of shackles, but there was a scuffle across the room, and he glimpsed Tanith kicking someone. He looked at the Cleaver in front, the one with the shackles. At the last moment he shoved the Cleaver away from him and backed up, aware that Saracen and the others had done exactly the same thing. Now they stood in a tight pack, tense, watching the Cleavers and mages around them, everyone waiting for the spark that would ignite the battle.
“This is ridiculous!” Graves shouted. “You don’t stand a chance! None of you do!”
Vex could see Tanith now through the throng of Cleavers, grinning again.
“Tanith Low,” Graves said, his voice practically quivering with indignation, “you will allow the Cleaver to shackle you or I will give the order to—”
“Ask me how smart I am,” Tanith said.
“What?”
“Ask me,” she said. “Go on. I dare you.”
He glared at her. “Very well. Miss Low, how smart are you?”
“Very,” she told him. “I’ve always been a pretty smart cookie, even before the Remnant. I was no genius, mind you. But I was pretty smart. Smart enough to get by, you know? But the Remnant, well... the Remnant has been in some pretty sharp minds, let me tell you, not least of which was one Kenspeckle Grouse. You heard of him?”
“Yes,” Graves said, actually rolling his eyes. “The professor of science-magic. Died a few years ago.”
“That’s the one,” said Tanith. “So while I’m not technically as smart as he was, at the same time, I’ve lived in his head. I have all of his memories tucked away in mine. For instance, the memory of how to concoct a certain virus in gaseous form, place it into an itty-bitty glass sphere and dump it into the ventilation system of a certain building.”
No one was bothering with Vex and the others any more. Everyone was looking at Tanith.
“What... what kind of virus?” Graves asked.
“Ever see that movie 28 Days Later, with Cillian Murphy and Brendan Gleeson? You know those rage-zombies that ran everywhere?”
Graves swallowed. “Yes?”
“Good movie, isn’t it? It was on TV there a few weeks ago. Gave me the idea. A rage virus in a gas, pumped through the ventilation ducts. That’s what I did.”
Graves hesitated, then smiled. Then laughed. “So you’ve infected us all with a rage virus, have you? So we’re all mindless rage-zombies, screaming and tearing each other apart, yes? Well, that is impressive. Although I do seem to be remarkably calm for a rage-zombie, don’t I? As does everyone else here. I wonder why that is? Maybe, and this is just a suggestion, maybe it’s because you’re really not as smart as you think you are?”
“Maybe,” Tanith said. “Or maybe because I know the protocol of this place I’ve been able to anticipate every move you’ve made so far.”
Graves laughed again. “Such as?”
“Such as the lockdown,” said Tanith. “When the Sanctuary is breached, the entire building goes into lockdown mode, where corridors are sealed off and certain areas get air pumped in from new sources. And then, once the lockdown is called off, all these people in those areas who have been exposed to this air are free to roam.”
Graves was starting to look decidedly pale.
“We’re not the ones infected,” said Tanith. “But if you listen closely, I’m pretty sure you’ll be able to hear the ones that are.”
And just as
if it had all been rehearsed, Vex could now hear people screaming and shouting, and getting closer.
Graves spun to the mage behind him. “Lock it down,” he commanded. “Now. Immediately. Lock everything down!”
“He can’t do that,” Tanith said calmly. “It takes twenty-three minutes for the lockdown cycle to complete. So we’ve got roughly twenty minutes to go before those doors can close again. Think you can survive for twenty minutes, Mr Graves?”
From where he stood, Vex could see the door. It was dark out in the corridor, where the screaming was coming from, but he could make out shapes. Moving fast. Moving fast.
“Get ready,” he said. “Here they come.”
hey came screaming through the doors, sorcerers and Cleavers fighting each other, then swarming the room. The unaffected sorcerers backed away at first, but with no other choice and nowhere to run, they started fighting back. Those the gas had affected, the rage-zombies, weren’t bothering with magic or tactics – all they seemed to want to do was get their hands on someone and tear them to pieces.
A man came at Tanith and she sent him flying. A Cleaver grabbed her arm and she stomped on his knee and shoved him into another mage. Whether they were contorted with anger or fear, all these faces were starting to look the same. She glimpsed Vex and Saracen and the others on the other side of the room, hitting whoever got close. Vex looked up, locked eyes with Tanith. She grinned at him.
He ran for the God-Killer, but she was faster, running up the wall and over the heads of the fighting, biting, snarling masses. Black Annis was already turning blue, her nails and teeth growing, and she launched herself into the mix, adding to the chaos. Not even the Cleavers’ scythes could scratch that blue hide, and her matted, greying hair swung heavily about her terrifying face as she got to work.
Tanith landed by the glass case and Vex grabbed her, hauled her away. She spun, crunching an elbow into his ribs. He grunted but held on, managed to send her stumbling. Before she fell, she got a hand to the ground, cartwheeled to her feet again as he rushed in. His first punch missed, his second caught her, and then a right cross sent her stumbling. Lucky shot.
She wiped blood from her lip, and grinned at him. “I like your shoes,” she said.
She sprang at him, brought him down. He squirmed beneath her, shifting his hips and pressing his knee to her stomach. Her hands closed round his throat. Tightened. She liked being strong. He pushed with his knee, but she held on, squeezing tighter, and then he let her fall into him as he sent a palm shot into her chin. Lights danced before her eyes and when her brain came back online, she was face down and Vex was on her back with his arm round her throat. How the hell had that happened?
Out of the corner of her eye she saw people running, then Vex was lifted off her by a kick accompanied by a screech, and hands were on her, pulling her up, those hands going for her eyes now, clawing at her face. Tanith’s forehead crunched into the nose of the rage-zombie and he howled, and she did it again and he staggered away. A woman reached for her and Tanith kicked at her knee and her ribs and her head, the kicks tapping out a rapid rhythm that dropped the woman on the spot.
Behind her, Vex was ducking under a wild swing. He grabbed his assailant, flipped him over his hip, stamped on his groin to keep him out of the fight. Tanith backed up to him and there they stood, taking down the rage-zombies as they ran up. Tanith spun and kicked and headbutted. Vex flipped and choked and subdued. He evidently didn’t want to permanently hurt anyone if he could help it. Tanith had no such qualms.
A Cleaver jumped for her and she dodged, nudging him towards Vex, who saw the scythe with barely enough time to duck. He spared a moment to glare at her and she spared a moment to grin back, and then more rage-zombies descended on them and there was a lot more punching and kicking and the breaking of arms, noses, jaws, ribs... Her heart hammered and her pulse pounded and her blood rushed through her exhilarated body. Her smile was black-lipped and her face was black-veined and her blonde hair whipped as she fought, and it was a good day to be alive and it was a good day to hurt people.
And then she looked up, into the big black eyes of a vampire, and her smile went away.
It sprang and she somersaulted over its head, its claws ripping across her back. It crashed into a group of rage-zombies behind her, sank its teeth into a neck as its claws lacerated those around it. Tanith bit her lip against the pain, feeling the blood run down to the waistband of her trousers. She didn’t take it personally. Dusk had no control over his vampire side. The creature hadn’t attacked her because of who she was, it had just attacked because she was obviously a very delicious meal. Juicy, even.
“How long do the effects last?” Vex asked, at her side again, using a fistful of energy to blast a sorcerer back.
Tanith waited until a snarling mage was close enough, then kicked him in the face. “Ten minutes or so,” she said, watching him twirl and fall. “Or until they’re unconscious. Whichever comes first.”
Someone stumbled into them and they both shoved him back into the crowd.
“Look at us,” Tanith said, “sworn enemies, but fighting side by side.”
“Sometimes it’s better the devil you know,” Vex grunted.
“It is, isn’t it,” she said, flashing him a bright smile.
Vex slammed an elbow into a sorcerer’s jaw and Tanith slid away from a grab and brought the ridge of her hand into the throat of another attacker. She backed up once again to Vex.
There was a lull in the action, as if everyone around them had decided to ignore them for a moment, and Tanith seized her chance. She turned, swung a punch just as Vex did the same. Her fist hit him and his fist hit her and the world tilted and she was falling, banging her head on some unconscious person’s knee.
Her vision swam. Everything sounded so very far away. She looked up at the high ceiling and thought of nothing. A Cleaver sent another Cleaver stumbling over her, but she didn’t mind that. It wasn’t the first time two men had fought over her.
The little joke made her smile, and then a worried face came into view.
“Tanith? Tanith, are you dead?”
Wilhelm. Looking scared. As usual.
He shook her. “Tanith? Please don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead.”
“My eyelids are blinking and I’m looking at you,” she mumbled. “Generally speaking, dead people don’t do either of those things.”
“Oh, thank God,” he said, and babbled some more as he pulled her to her feet.
Her legs were shaky, but her strength was returning fast. That was some punch Vex had caught her with. Vex himself was on the ground beside them, trying his best to get up.
“Kick him,” Tanith said.
Wilhelm’s eyes widened. “Me? I’m not, I’m not a fighter, Tanith. I told you. I wouldn’t know how to—”
“Just kick him,” she said. “In the face. Before he stands up. Now, Wilhelm. Now.”
Looking like he might cry, Wilhelm gave a half-hearted kick to Vex’s leg.
“The face,” Tanith repeated.
Wilhelm pressed his foot against Vex’s ear and tried to sort of shoo him away. Tanith growled, pulled Wilhelm to one side and kicked Vex in the jaw. He slumped.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Wilhelm said. “I told you I’m not a fighter. I told you I shouldn’t be here. I don’t even know why you brought me!”
She took his hand and led him to the glass case. “Because you’re very important to me, Wilhelm. Your uncle was the man who installed the security for the sword, did you know that?”
Despite his fear, Wilhelm frowned. “He was?”
“Oh, yes. Recognise that?” She pointed to the image carved into the side of the case. “That’s your family crest, isn’t it? The only people who can open this case are the Elders of this Sanctuary and the man who made the case itself – or someone of his blood.”
“I can open it?” Wilhelm asked, his voice breathy with wonder.
“Yes. Sort of. When I say ‘of hi
s blood’, I literally mean... well...”
Keeping hold of his hand, she took her own sword from its scabbard and cut off his little finger. Wilhelm screamed and howled and fell to his knees and she left him to his distress. Holding the finger by the knuckle, she smeared a bloody symbol over the family crest and watched the crest start to glow. Something clicked, and the case opened.
Tanith tossed Wilhelm his finger – getting not even a thank you in return – and slid her sword into the scabbard across her back. Then she lifted the God-Killer from its velvet cushion. It was heavy. It was big. The blade itself was longer than she was. A ridiculously cool-looking sword, in the hands of a ridiculously cool-looking chick.
That grin was back on her face again.
A Cleaver ran at her and she swung. The sword was clumsy and awkward and the Cleaver managed to dodge all but the tip. But this was a God-Killer weapon – whatever it cut, it killed. The tip sliced through the Cleaver’s coat and inflicted what would have been a nick with any other blade. But here, that nick became a swathe, and sheared his body in two.
“Wow,” Tanith said.
She swung again, killing three people in one go. This time, it was almost like their torsos parted before the blade even touched them. Now that was sharp.
She saw the Monster Hunters move through the crowd of rage-zombies like a lawnmower moves through grass, cutting down everything in front of them. They fought as a partnership, watching the other’s back. Sometimes Bane would finish off O’Callahan’s opponent and sometimes O’Callahan would finish off Bane’s. Saracen and Aurora were fighting alongside Graves’s men, and Graves himself was being protected by Frightening. What a team.
Tanith’s team, or what remained of it, wasn’t doing so well. The vampire was killing everyone around it, Wilhelm was still shrieking about one teeny-tiny severed finger and Black Annis was lying dead on the floor. Her blue skin had remained unbreakable, but the business end of a scythe had found its way into her huge gaping mouth, the curving blade piercing her brain from beneath. Poor dead Annis. Tanith doubted anyone would mourn her passing. Tanith certainly wouldn’t.