Sins of Angels (The Complete Collection)

by Larkin, Matt

  David spun away, left the washroom, then paused. The Codex was lying on the floor where he’d thrown it. God forgive him, what blasphemy. Maybe all this was punishment for his doubts and sins. But even so, he had to follow his conscience.

  He picked the book up gingerly and set down on his dresser.

  This was wrong.

  Phoebe was off duty at this hour. She’d be in her quarters. And David was going to need someone he could trust.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Given seemingly insurmountable ideological differences between Mizraim and Asherah, another war may be inevitable. And whichever side holds the Ark would surely win such a confrontation. Perhaps that was why Waller was willing to break the very laws he stood for to try to force my aid.

  Funny, in all his time imagining the fabled halls of Mizraim, Knight had never really expected them to look like this. A cool metal cell, an impenetrable glass barrier. A couple of brief tries to crack it had proved fruitless, so he sat, legs crossed, waiting.

  Locked away in a small room, awaiting his next trial. Just like always. The rooms in Gehenna were not so different. No glass walls to look out in the hall, of course, but a small square of metal with nothing but a cot. Knight had spent far too much time in those rooms, and never thought to return. When you became full Gibborim they finally let you out into the world, gave you all the wealth you needed. You could have anything or anyone on Gehenna you wanted—at the cost of your soul. And it was a price he’d paid so many times.

  A thousand times, it seemed, he’d killed men and women, anyone who got in Sarah’s way. Anyone the government wanted to silence. Once, Sarah had sent him to beat a man in front his wife, then rape her. He couldn’t bring himself to do the latter, so he’d beaten her too, and told her to act like he’d done worse, or someone else would.

  And in the end, her weeping husband had thanked him. Thanked him for breaking his arm and at least two ribs. Thanked him for giving his wife a black eye.

  Thanked him because, when the Gibborim came for you, you knew death stared into your soul. Knight had made himself the angel of death, and he had been so good at it even Sarah sometimes seemed afraid of him.

  And in the end, he’d killed the one friend he’d ever had in there. Hadrian had kept him sane, had helped him hold onto the last shreds of his soul, despite the people who had raised them both. And now his friend was dead, cut down by Knight’s own hand. One more piece of himself, carved away by the realities of a universe that cared nothing for him or anyone else.

  Hadrian had tried to warn him. He’d told Knight not to interfere, but Knight hadn’t been able to let go. Had pride led him here? He’d had the money to get off Gehenna from the day Rachel first paid him. He couldn’t have made it to New Rome, but did that matter? After spending a lifetime on Gehenna, had some part of him demanded paradise as recompense?

  A man who murdered his only friend deserved no paradise. Of course he’d never reach New Rome. Why should he? In his whole life, he’d done nothing but murder and steal and betray, first in the name of a corrupt government, then for his own self-interest.

  Until at last he could sink no lower, and he had murdered and betrayed the one person who had ever cared about him. The big brother he should have had. Finally leaving him bereft of any meaning to his violent, pathetic existence.

  And sooner or later, the Sentinels would let him out of here. And maybe he’d kill them, too.

  The white-skinned Sentinel strode down the hall, then stopped in front of his cell, staring him right in the eyes. Bold, without a hint of fear, though he’d nearly thrown her to the same end as Hadrian. That almost colorless skin and hair—now dyed pink—she was an Icie, wasn’t she?

  Knight rose and walked to the edge of the glass. The Icie flipped on the intercom.

  “Ezekiel Knight.”

  “Just Knight.”

  “You’re a fast guy, Knight. We did some scans while you were out. Not cybered, not genetically engineered yourself—though your ancestors probably were.”

  He shrugged. “You’re one to talk, Icie.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “You backworlders do know that’s offensive, right?”

  Should he care? He was a monster. He was Gibborim. He was the whisper in the darkness the Adversary himself should fear.

  “I hear Icies are cold inside,” he said, leaning up on the glass. “Freeze a man.”

  Instead of recoiling like some prim bitch, she leaned in close, finger pulling her pale lip down in a way that sent his blood racing. “About three degrees warmer, actually.” Her voice was low, and husky. “Makes all the difference in the world, I hear.” She stepped back and smirked. “Not that you’d ever find out.”

  Well damn. Knight sucked in a breath and stepped back, trying not to visibly shake himself. “What do you want, Icie?”

  “From you? Not much.” She was odd, never broke eye contact. Like her every word was a direct challenge, and she couldn’t give a centimeter of ground. “But David thinks you care about Rachel Jordan. Is that true?”

  Knight shrugged, then sat back on the floor. He’d be a fool to care. He’d tried… he’d begun to let himself feel. And look where he was. He’d murdered Hadrian. “She was paying me as a bodyguard. I’m guessing that arrangement has ended.” And where was she while he waited in here? Had she escaped? Was she still on Gehenna? Or maybe she was here on this ship, working with these people. That David was something to her, something that left Knight seething with unexpected and unwanted jealousy. Why? Why did she still care for that prick?

  But the answer was obvious. What woman wouldn’t choose the man over the monster?

  And so here he sat in this cell. Where he belonged for his crimes.

  “A bodyguard, huh? Nice job.”

  “You’re the one who shot me with a lightning bolt.” And he wouldn’t forget it if he did get out of here.

  “Yeah, those of us in the real universe call it an electrolaser. And do you have any idea what’s happening to your former employer right now?”

  “Should I care?” Was she here? Was she in trouble? It wasn’t his problem… She was supposed to get him to New Rome, not leave him in a Sentinel brig to be questioned by some frigid Icie. God, he’d killed Hadrian for her. And what had she done but leave him? Just like everyone else.

  Except…

  “Now who’s cold?” The Icie smirked at him. “She’s being tortured. You know, if you decide to work up enough moral fiber to care. Or have the balls to do anything about it.”

  He shook his head. It wasn’t his problem. If they had her, she wasn’t going to be paying him for anything anymore. Maybe he should just give them what they wanted. Maybe they’d let him go. But Rachel…

  Except Rachel had come back for him on that bike. She’d known who and what he was, and she’d come back to save him. She’d tried to protect him.

  “Fine,” the Icie said. “I knew it was a mistake to come to you.”

  Rachel was an idiot sometimes. An idealist, totally ignorant of the universe around them. And she’d acted like a friend.

  Knight had lost one friend already. Had killed him. And if he did nothing now, he’d lose another. Despite all their differences, all the arguments, the thought of someone hurting her, of doing the things to her that his government did to people when they wanted something… The things he himself had done…

  He’d never known his parents. He’d lost Shirin. He’d lost Hadrian. Almost everyone he’d ever held dear was gone. And Rachel was one of those people. Even if she chose David over him, it didn’t matter.

  Because she still cared about him. As much as Hadrian had, and with even less reason. The insane girl cared about him.

  And if he had one friend left in this universe, then he would not fail her.

  He stood. “Wait.”

  The Icie turned back to him. “What’s the matter? Heart thawing a bit?”

  “What do you want from me?”

  She hesitated a moment, then hit a b
utton that opened the cell door. The glass slid down and she stepped aside. A trick? If so, he’d make her regret it. He stepped through slowly, eyes pinned on her face.

  “The captain…” The Icie leaned close to Knight’s face, so close he could feel her breath. It was hot, and it made his cheek tingle. “David thinks he’s gone too far. He’s going to try to take the ship. And I need someone to help me get to Rachel when he does.”

  So. This David really was her friend. In that case, maybe he’d get to live out the day. “I’m in,” he whispered into the Icie’s ear. If his life had no other meaning, he’d tear this ship to pieces and take on hell itself, but he would not let harm come to Rachel. If this captain hurt her, he’d die.

  Maybe he’d always be a monster. But there was one person out there he’d never fail.

  The Icie nodded and turned to leave. Her suit hugged her form, highlighting all her muscles, from her toned arms to her shapely ass.

  “Hey, Icie. How about a mono blade?”

  She spun, stepped right up into his face and looked him in the eye. “My name is Phoebe Dana. Call me Icie again and one of us is going to have a bad day.” She shrugged. “And we don’t have any swords available. Get a real weapon.”

  At that she spun.

  Knight followed her out, only smiling when she couldn’t see it.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  For twenty-five hundred years Angels told us what to think, where to go, and when to do it. And then they vanished. Those of us born now, centuries later, probably cannot image the shock, the utter sense of abandonment our ancestors felt. Some claimed Armageddon had come.

  “Apollo is on the line for you,” Rebekah said, sticking her head through the doorway to his office.

  Caleb shut his eyes, trying not to imagine the coming conversation. Not one he was looking forward to at all. He had no reason to fear Apollo, of course. The man worked for him. In theory.

  “Caleb?” Rebekah said. “Are you all right?”

  Other than a pounding headache, an irrational nervousness over speaking to one of his own scientists, and his unsated lust for his assistant, he was doing well enough. Except for losing the Goddamn Sefer. “I’m fine, Rebekah. I’ll take the call in private.”

  She left, and he glanced down at his family photo. “Forgive me my weaknesses, Ayelet.” He stroked his wife’s cheek in the picture. Maybe he should have just left Jericho and lived with them. Left all the temptation. But then, they’d become accustomed to a certain style of living, hadn’t they?

  “Receive call.”

  Apollo’s shrouded face flashed onto the screen. “Update me on the situation,” the man said in his usual emotionless tone.

  “Things turned out poorly.” That was an understatement. Half the Gibborim were dead, Sarah was livid over the loss of her best agent, and quite frankly, he was probably going to have to replace her. Which meant finding someone else with the nerve, guile, and discretion necessary to oversee the unit without giving away his involvement.

  “Explain.”

  “Our agents were killed without recovering the Sefer. Ms. Jordan is now in the custody of the Sentinel ship, Logos, which has refused any attempt the Gehennan government has made to communicate with them. The planet is in chaos.”

  To say nothing of the millions of credits worth of damage done to Beeroth in that little manhunt. How Sarah had managed to turn tracking one rogue agent and a civilian with a book into a war zone that had cost dozens of lives or more, as well as a hover carrier and God-knew what else he’d ignored in Rebekah’s reports, he’d never know.

  They’d chosen Gehenna because no one was supposed to care about the little shit-hole. Instead, the Empire had sent a Sentinel battleship to the system.

  “That is disappointing,” Apollo said, without even a hint of disappointment.

  “Yes. Yes it is. Our assets performed at less than the desired levels.”

  “Were the cybernetics successfully integrated?”

  Caleb nodded. That, at least, had gone mostly according to plan. The reports of Omega had been particularly promising. Which made it twice as annoying to have lost the man. Everything Jericho had invested in Omega’s body was now splattered across the pavement in Beeroth. It had taken quite a cover story to get that cleaned up without anyone realizing what all that metal in his body meant.

  Caleb sighed, and glanced back at Apollo. “Sarah claimed he was her best agent. He showed strong test results, and his body accepted all the augmentations we implanted.”

  “Then the project was not a loss. We have the capacity to create cybernetically enhanced soldiers. We merely need to find the correct venue.” Apollo leaned forward, revealing slightly more of his face than Caleb had ever seen. Even with his cybernetic eyes, Caleb had never really gotten a clear look through that darkness. Now, he could see the man’s eyes flicker. Were they cybernetic replacements, too?

  Caleb’s eyes broke the First Commandment, no doubt. But then, they were so damn useful.

  “We must still recover the Ark,” Apollo said.

  Obviously. Caleb decided to control the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m trying to organize a government strike against the Logos. If we can recover the Sefer, we should be able to translate it on our own.”

  Of course, such a strike might prove futile, but they had to try. Gehennan technology was vastly inferior to what the Sentinels had on that ship, so the cost of victory would be steep. But Gehenna didn’t really matter, not compared to finding the Ark. With that, he’d unlock technology beyond the wildest dreams of the most visionary QI geniuses in the universe. Jericho would be his for the taking, and Quasar Industries would become a shell. Let them try keeping up with the advancements Caleb would release with that knowledge.

  He’d have the entire Conglomerate under his control in a year, at most. And from there, it was a short stop to bringing the Empire itself to heel. Or Asherah.

  It was almost enough to call Jericho Corp ships in on the strike. But if they failed, his hand would be played. The board would not look kindly on involving them in an open conflict with Mizraim, and if they didn’t back him… Well, he didn’t even want to consider what the Sentinels would do to him.

  Apollo’s eyes bored into him. “You’re considering a full strike against a Sentinel battleship.”

  Caleb squirmed. He wasn’t used to people reading him. He was the one who read other people. “I don’t see any choice.”

  “Because you are blinded by fear and short-term vision.”

  Under his desk, Caleb gave Apollo the finger.

  “You must think in terms of the endgame. Send no one after them yet. They will do the work of decoding the Sefer for you, then lead you right to the Ark.”

  He caught himself chewing his thumb. Maybe Apollo was right. Maybe frustration had limited his vision. Why risk an outright assault on the Sentinels until they had the Ark? Sometimes, you had to back up and wait for the right moment.

  It meant he’d need to keep Sarah in place—no time to train someone else. He needed an asset who could be his eyes and ears in that galaxy.

  Apollo cut the line, and Caleb called up Sarah.

  “What now?” she demanded.

  His head hurt, and he let it show. So he wasn’t going to terminate her yet—it didn’t mean he was going to put up with that attitude much longer. “Ms. Radison,” he said. “I hope you don’t think yourself irreplaceable.”

  She glared, saying nothing.

  “Gather your forces, quell the disturbances on Gehenna, but do nothing else until I tell you.”

  “You don’t want us to go after them?”

  “Not yet.”

  “As you wish.”

  He cut the line and called Rebekah back in. He had some time to kill, and he was in serious need of something to soothe his nerves.

  “You want me to continue the reports?” she asked.

  “No. What are you wearing, Rebekah?”

  She looked down at her tight green top and gray suit
pants in confusion.

  “I mean under those.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  After the Vanishing, it didn’t take long for mankind to fall into civil war. Many records were lost, so even with all my studies, I cannot be sure of exactly what happened. What I can say is that the rise of the Sentinels under the orders of the Shekhinah was seen by most as the last chance for mankind.

  It was a dream. That was the only way David could view his actions. He stood on the threshold of the bridge, unable to buzz open the door.

  Leah put her hand on his shoulder. “You sure?”

  “It’s already started.” He’d committed mutiny, and all he could do now was see it through, damned though he be. They were armed with electrolasers—he’d not kill other Sentinels—but unfortunately their suits would absorb the brunt of the blasts. Chances were they’d have to physically restrain the bridge crew.

  He glanced past Leah, to a handful of other officers he’d known would side with him. “Let’s go, lads.” Then he buzzed the door and rushed the bridge.

  David and his fellow mutineers charged in, fanning out around the room. Waller spun at once, his face quickly flashing from surprise to wrath.

  “McGregor!”

  “Captain, I hereby relieve you of command for violations of Mizraim law.”

  One of the bridge Sentinels pulled a pulse pistol. Lightning cracked behind David, the blast throwing the Sentinel against a console. He dropped his weapon, but was up again in a second. David had six officers, the bridge had eight, counting Waller. This was going to be bad.

  He rushed the nearest man, who came up swinging.

  “Arrest that traitor!” Waller shouted, pulling his own pulse pistol. Another electrolaser blast staggered him, and one of David’s crew tackled the captain.

  David traded blows with the officer on him before catching the man behind the head. He slammed down, smashing the poor lad into a console, then slapped magnetic restraints on his arms.