A Company of Monsters (The Sorcerers of Verdun Book 2)

by Shami Stovall

“R-right now? During the riots?”

  “He’s helping to incite the riots.”

  It wasn’t hard. The Russian Empire had been in a state of disarray for decades. The ruling class, separated from the life of the common man, had stagnated. While the rest of the world twisted and changed, the Russian Empire clung to old ideas and practices. Their tsar took to the battlefield, not because he had a talent for war, but because he was the tsar. Once the Russian military crumbled to the enemy, morale across the country broke.

  That was when the Bolsheviks really got a foothold. They promised change, and all they needed was violence—something the starving people of the empire were ready to engage in.

  Amalgam headed for the lieutenant. Once he reached the top of the stairs, he stopped. The entrance room would give him enough space to attack the lieutenant, and it made sense to prepare ahead of time if he wanted to have the upper hand.

  Geist leaned heavy on his arm, her breathing ragged. The rough breaths weren’t supposed to be a side effect of the sedative, and Amalgam wondered if she somehow had taken to it poorly. But he didn’t have time to investigate. Lieutenant Cavell stopped on the other side of door, his sorcery up and his footsteps silent. His magic aura betrayed his presence, however.

  “I thought you went to the palace with the others,” Amalgam said.

  Lieutenant Cavell stepped through the door and allowed his sorcery to fade from his body. He teemed with twisted magic, no doubt due to the blood he stole from the Eye of the Kaiser. After he rotated an arm, Lieutenant Cavell smiled.

  “I came back when Otto and Pavel failed to rendezvous at our gathering point. I came back to find their corpses in the hallway.”

  Not even a hint of remorse or sadness for teammates who gave their lives for the cause. That was the new reality the GH Gas brought. Everyone wanted blood, especially from the powerful. How much longer could Europe handle such a sad truth? Amalgam smiled under his gas mask. How long would the royal families last?

  Lieutenant Cavell glanced over at the limp body of Geist. “Florence?” He returned his attention to Amalgam. “Your plan worked? She came here for the other member of the Ethereal Squadron?”

  Amalgam listened for his inner most thoughts.

  ... I can’t believe it … this solves my problems … maybe this dog is useful after all …

  It was working perfectly. Lieutenant Cavell had no idea. He thought Amalgam a loyal soldier, and soon he would come to take his daughter. That was when Amalgam would strike with everything he had. He tensed as he took a few steps closer to the lieutenant.

  “I told you she would come,” Amalgam said. “And I’ve already injected her with sedative. There will be no escape.”

  Apex sorcery had many strange side effects. Lieutenant Cavell could sometimes smell people lying. They sweated more than usual and gave away their nervousness through their traitorous pores. But Amalgam wore a suit of leather and anti-magic, complete with a gas mask, all sealed to hide his skin. Lieutenant Cavell never guessed what was coming.

  “Good,” the lieutenant said. “You’ve done well.”

  Amalgam dropped Geist to the floor, through it hurt his soul. She crumpled to the cracked cement with a groan, her whole body trembling. Lieutenant Cavell stepped forward and reached for the collar of her uniform. Amalgam lifted his arm and focused his sorcery, his putrid green flame gushing forward in a powerful stream of fire. The heat flooded the tiny room. Amalgam didn’t care if it hit the wall or the door, so long as he got most of Cavell’s body.

  With a shout and a grunt, Lieutenant Cavell leapt backward, a good five feet from his original position, his speed and strength far beyond anything Amalgam could bring to the table. But the lieutenant didn’t strike—he grabbed at his singed face, and Amalgam knew he had a small window to finish the man.

  He rushed forward, lifted his arm a second time, and lit up the basement. When he concentrated hard enough, the heat of his twisted fires grew in intensity. He knew Cavell’s specter sorcery wouldn’t save him from flame, and if he failed to get out of the way, he would lose his concentration to the burns and succumb.

  At least, that had been Amalgam’s plan—up until Lieutenant Cavell dashed forward, through the fires, and backhanded Amalgam hard enough to shatter the glass of his mask.

  Amalgam hit the floor, barely aware of what had happened.

  The moment he had an ounce of concentration, he teleported to a button, slipping from one floor to another. He couldn’t picture his destination, and when he forced himself to his feet, confusion gripped his thoughts. Where had he gone?

  A ringing persisted in his ears, and Amalgam knew pieces of gas mask had embedded themselves in his skin. Damn.

  It didn’t take long for Lieutenant Cavell to track him down—Amalgam had only teleported to the corridor over. Before Amalgam got another strike to the face, he teleported again, this time back to the top of the staircase. His thoughts escaped him, like water between fingers, but there wasn’t much else he could do. He was on the run, and if he couldn’t find an opening, he would die.

  Technically, he still had a couple of GH Gas grenades. His suit would protect him and not Cavell, but it would also kill Geist. She was on the floor, her arms posted beneath her. She wasn’t yet unconscious. An unfortunate fact that could cost them.

  He couldn’t use the grenades.

  Lieutenant Cavell stepped back into the room and opened fire with his Luger. Amalgam’s armor absorbed most of it, but a couple bullets slammed straight into the soft flesh of his side. Amalgam dropped back to the floor, pain searing his insides. Agony sometimes angered him—reminded that he was weak and he existed on the edge—but now it weighed heavy on his mind. This could be the last time he felt anything.

  After wrapping himself in invisibility, Lieutenant Cavell rushed forward. He still hadn’t figured out that Amalgam could sense his every move. The second he drew close, Amalgam used the full strength of his fire. Lieutenant Cavell put an end to Amalgam’s sorcery with a powerful kick to the side, right in the bullet wounds. Amalgam half screamed as he tumbled to the floor. His lower ribs were broken. Amalgam knew the feeling well. Each breath was like a stab to the lung.

  He could heal it, if he had enough time and focus, but…

  “You’re unstable,” Lieutenant Cavell growled as he became visible. “A dog that needs to be put down.”

  His thoughts echoed the same sentiment.

  … the gas has messed with his head … he’s not right … better off dead …

  Amalgam couldn’t find the concentration to teleport. The flares of pain from his chest hurt too much.

  Cavell approached him, his Luger at the ready. Amalgam smiled to himself. At least Geist was nearby. Her warmth… it chased some of the darkness away. And it grew warmer and warmer… enrolling him with a relaxation he no longer found in life. Perhaps dying wouldn’t be so bad. He deserved it, after all…

  That was what monsters got.

  Thirty

  Father Dearest

  Geist knew she wouldn’t have the element of surprise long. It was now or never.

  She leapt up from the floor, her bare feet silent as she lunged for her father. He glanced around right as she reached out her hand. Geist would’ve gotten his chest, but he twisted, and instead she clawed through his side, right along the contents of his guts. She became corporeal, ripping out flesh, but not a killing blow.

  Fuck! Her eyes widened, knowing full well that had been her moment to win the fight.

  Her father didn’t flinch. He brought his handgun around and fired. The bullet sailed through her and ricocheted off the cracked cement.

  “You ungrateful wretch,” her father growled, the intensity in his eyes betraying his overwhelming hatred. He stepped away until his back hit the opposite wall, blood seeping into his Austro-Hungarian uniform. “I thought you were sedated!”

  She should have been sedated. But when Amalgam had gone to stick her with a syringe, Geist had allowed the liquid to
ghost through her body. A normal man might have seen the medication drip onto the floor, but Amalgam didn’t have eyes… Geist didn’t know how he saw, but he didn’t pick up on that, so she acted as though she had been affected, biding her time until she could act.

  And then her father had shown up, ready to kill them both. Even though his uniform was charred, his flesh raw, and his stomach bleeding, he still had the power and strength to remain standing. He didn’t tremble or hesitate—or even slow.

  Geist wrapped herself in invisibly, and her father did the same.

  “Florence,” he said. “I’ll bring you back to Austria in pieces.”

  Her heart leapt into her throat. Her father had twenty years more practice with his sorcery than she did—he was a master of apex and specter—and had been a lieutenant since the beginning of the Great War. Why did it have to be him? Why was he in the Russian Empire?

  She calmed herself when nothing happened. Seconds ticked by, and the walls crumbled a little further, the whole monastery trembling. If they remained incorporeal, they couldn’t fight, even if her father was far better than she was. But Geist knew that wasn’t an option. Victory was still down the stairs. She couldn’t leave him, and if her father discovered him, there would be bloodshed.

  And Amalgam…

  He lay broken and bleeding against the far wall. Should she leave him? He was unstable, but he had tried to defend her against her father. That’s not enough to justify helping him at this point. He almost murdered Victory just to get to me.

  Geist dropped her invisibility but remained ghost-like. She wanted to speak, but her father appeared in an instant, inches from her, and swung for her throat. His hand passed right through, but Geist could sense the force behind the attack. He meant to kill her in that single strike.

  “Is that all you’ve got?” she asked.

  It was a terrible taunt, and she knew if they went fist-to-fist that she would lose, but if she didn’t fight, there was no way to win. She had to take the risk—had to catch him corporeal—and getting him reckless might give her an opening.

  He smiled. “Why don’t I show you some of the new sorceries I’ve gotten a hold of?”

  The statement caught her off guard. Her father held up a hand, and a strike of electricity arched from his palm. It hit Geist, sent her into the wall, but the power wasn’t there. He hadn’t mastered tempest sorcery; he had just started learning. Still, sorceries like that could pierce through her incorporeal state.

  Geist vanished and rolled to the side. Her father disappeared as well, and another round of panic set in. Like submarines, they could circle forever until they bumped into each other. How was she going to outsmart him?

  He has to make himself corporeal to attack, and he attacked me immediately when I appeared…

  She ripped off her tunic, thankful she had an undershirt. After two seconds of silent counting, she steeled herself to an attack and threw her uniform forward. The instant it left her hand, the garment became visible. In the next instant, her father struck—ripping the tunic clean in half with his strike.

  Geist was already on her feet. She reached out and caught him as he tore through the fabric. She made her hand physical as she caught him under the ribs, right on the spleen, and clawed at the soft organ.

  Her father barked out a shout of pain and surprise. He backhanded the area, but Geist had been fast enough with her specter sorcery to avoid the hit. It was only a matter of time, however. Her attacks were small. It would take hundreds to bleed out her father. All it would take was one strike from him and she’d be dead.

  Blood poured from Lieutenant Cavell’s side, soaking his tunic down to his belt. He placed a hand over the injury, his intense gaze locked on Geist. She stumbled back, unable to concentrate enough to become invisible.

  Her father had always hated her. She had never been enough. His words rang out in her memories, always about her failings. He wanted more than her—more than anyone could give—he wanted control and power and obedience. When Geist hadn’t provided it, he got angry. She remembered what it felt like to be struck by him. The memory haunted the skin of her cheek.

  “You were always a disappointment,” he growled. “And now you have the audacity to attack me?”

  Perhaps it was the drugs in her system or the fact she had broken away from his control years prior, but in that moment, she didn’t take his words seriously. “And here I thought you’d be proud of me,” she quipped.

  “Proud of some crossdressing snake who betrayed me?” Her father laughed. Blood coated his bottom row of teeth. “If you’d have just listened, none of this would’ve happened!”

  Green flames erupted from the corner of the room, soaking everything in heat. Geist leaned away, but her father hadn’t been so lucky. He arched his back and whipped around, hatred written across his face. He dashed across the room, and Geist followed.

  Amalgam had helped her again. She decided in that moment—if she could save him as well, she would.

  The second her father appeared, Geist realized he couldn’t ghost into Amalgam due to anti-magic armor. The anti-magic. It would harm him. It was the only substance capable.

  She lashed out, but her hand went right though her father’s chest. “Fight me,” she shouted. “I thought you were going to take me back to Austria in pieces!” Then, in French, she said, “Use your armor, Fechner!”

  Geist didn’t know if he knew French—all she knew was that her father didn’t. And if she used Amalgam’s “real” name, he would know he was being addressed, even if he couldn’t figure out the rest of the sentence. They had to fight together. It was the only way.

  Her father wheeled on her, practically smiling.

  “You’ll regret this.”

  Amalgam got to his feet and swung with his anti-magic gauntlet. Sure enough, it connected with the wound on her father’s side. Blood splattered to the charred cement, and this time he called out. In that moment of lapsed concentration, Geist lunged forward. She dug her hand in around his collar bone and twisted, trying to desperately to get an artery. Her father, his gaze locked to her, had the most sadistic and twisted expression she had ever seen on another human being.

  And in that second—where she was physical enough to hurt him—he backhanded her. The blow sent her into the crumbling wall. She hit with enough force that she woke on the floor, unable to remember how she got there.

  It took several seconds for the world to stop spinning. She witnessed her father disappear and heard his bootsteps echo in the hallway. He had fled. But why? Had they injured him that badly? Geist wanted to smile, but she couldn’t bring herself to muster the energy. If he was running, they must’ve been close to gutting him once and for all.

  “Commander Geist!”

  The feminine voice straight in her thoughts didn’t help. What was going on?

  “Alexander Palace is under attack! The grand duchess has asked that you return at once to evacuate the royal family. Our soldiers are being overwhelmed by fell sorcery!”

  The new information shook Geist. One problem led to another and then another. The added situation piled on top of her weakened body, and it felt as though she were drowning. How many more things could possibly go wrong? But she didn’t have time to doubt or complain. She was a soldier, dammit. She had to get up. If there was still life in her body, she had to get to her feet.

  Geist rolled to her side and screamed. Her arm—it was shattered to the bone. She rolled to her other side, half sobbing. Never before had her bones been so destroyed. The agony helped wake her up, however.

  “Geist!”

  Victory stood over her. He leaned down and offered his shoulder. “We need to leave. I’ve helped the sorcerers in the basement, and I think there’s enough time for them to flee, but I know if we don’t exit immediately, dire consequences will result.”

  “The palace,” she muttered, her chest so tight it made it difficult to breathe. “We have to return.”

  “It’s under attack
by the Russian military itself.”

  “We need… to go back.”

  Geist got to her feet thanks to Victory. Still shaken by her encounter, she half expected to see an enemy nearby. A soldier, a researcher, another Eye of the Kaiser—someone—but to her delight, they had all gone. All that remained was the blackened basement room. What had happened? Then she spotted Amalgam slumped in the corner. He sat leaning against the wall, the glass of his mask completely shattered. He didn’t move, but his heavy breathing echoed in the room

  “What’re we going to do about him?” Victory asked.

  We should kill him. That was what she wanted to say, but she stilled her order. There was no duty owed to him, nor had they ever been allies. Still, he had helped her and even betrayed his own team to make sure Victory could go free. There had been no incentive for him to do that, other than to keep his word to her.

  It was as if he didn’t fight for a nation—just her.

  “Amalgam,” she said. “Get up.”

  He stirred for a moment, but when he tried to get to his feet, he slumped back down to the floor. Blood, darker than a normal, spilled onto the floor. It leaked from his armor, down to his trousers. He shook his head and placed a hand on his mask.

  “Get up,” she commanded.

  Victory turned to her, a look of concern written on his wary face.

  Could Amalgam get himself out of the monastery? Geist didn’t know, but she wanted to see him escape before it was too late.

  With a show of effort, Amalgam leaned on the wall and dragged himself to his feet. His body shook, and his legs almost buckled, but he remained standing. After a long moment, he pushed away from the corner and stumbled toward the door.

  “Your comrades are attacking the palace,” Geist said. “What’s their goal? Where will they be?”

  He turned his broken gas mask face toward her, his breathing just as heavy as before. He said nothing. Was he withholding the information?

  “I’m going to the palace,” she muttered. “If I’m going to have any hope of escaping alive, I need to know what they’re doing.”