by Tim Waggoner
“Come at me, bro!” he shouted.
Relatively reassured that a shadow dagger wasn’t going to slam between my shoulder blades in the next several seconds, I turned my attention back to Randy. I could see the black threads covered his entire neck and were now moving down onto his chest and up onto his chin and cheeks. His breathing had become shallow and rapid, and I knew he didn’t have much time left.
I placed the muzzle of my trancer a fraction of an inch away from the dagger’s ebon hilt and squeezed the trigger.
There was a flash of multicolored light, and I felt a wave of vertigo wash over me as Maelstrom energy was released. The sensation passed quickly, leaving me feeling mildly nauseated – as it always does – but I was thrilled to see that the burst from my trancer had cancelled out the shadow dagger’s energy, just as I’d hoped it would. The blade was gone. Randy still had a seriously nasty hole in his throat, of course, but at least he no longer had a mystic dagger poisoning his system.
But then I saw the black threads of dark energy were still spreading through his skin, and I knew that I’d been too late.
I switched my trancer to its lowest setting and aimed it at Randy’s head.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, and pulled the trigger.
Randy’s eyes widened in surprise, but then a short burst of Maelstrom energy washed over him, and his eyes closed and he fell still.
“What the fuck did you do?” Cubs-Cap demanded, an edge of hysteria in his voice.
“He’s just sleeping. If you want him to wake up again, you better call an ambulance.”
I knew there was nothing medical science could do for him now, but at least he’d be spared the agony of the dark energy negating his life force, in a very real sense eating him alive. Still, I pressed my free hand to Randy’s throat in an attempt to stop – or at least slow – the bleeding.
I hollered over my shoulder at Jinx. “Do you see him?”
“No, but he’s close.”
“Can you smell him?” I asked.
“Don’t need to.” He turned around and grinned as he displayed the half-dozen shadow daggers embedded in his chest. Although he was bleeding from the wounds, no black threads of infection spiderwebbed across his bone-white skin. Like Quietus, Jinx was formed from pure Maelstrom energy, so aside from making him look like a human pincushion, the shadow daggers had no more effect on him than a bee’s sting.
His body jerked several times, and when Jinx turned around to face the street, I saw he had three new daggers in his back.
Not for the first time, I wondered what sort of nightmare had birthed Quietus into existence. I mean, who dreams about a shadow assassin that can create throwing knives from shards of his own dark substance? I bet a psychologist would have a field day with that one.
The situation was rapidly getting out of control. Some of the onlookers were beginning to panic – and who could blame them? They’d witnessed a lunatic clown break a guy’s nose, then saw one of the guy’s companions catch a knife in the throat. And now the clown was standing guard and being struck with one dark blade after another, seemingly with no ill effects, grinning all the while. It was only a matter of time before another bystander was hit by one Quietus’ dark shards. Or he might decide to take a hostage in order to force us to allow him to escape.
And how long would it be before one or more of Chicago’s Finest got wind of what was going on and showed up, guns drawn, ready to kick ass first and ask questions later? I wasn’t worried about what the cops might do to us. I was afraid of what Jinx might do to them.
“Do you have a fix on him?” I called over my shoulder.
“He’s in one of the buildings across the street,” Jinx said. “I can’t tell which one or how high up he is, though. You know how he blends in with the shadows.”
“Keep looking,” I said. Then I turned toward Randy’s friend. “Hey, Anarchy-Symbol!”
At first, the kid didn’t know who I was talking to, but then he glanced down at his shirt, and it clicked.
“Uh, my name’s Dale.”
“I don’t give a damn what your name is,” I snapped. “Get your ass over here!”
He hesitated, and I thought this time he really would break and run. But he came over and I put my trancer on the ground, reached up, grabbed his hand, and pulled him down to a crouching position. Then I removed my bloody hand from Randy’s throat wound and replaced it with Dale’s.
“Keep the pressure on until help arrives,” I told him. “It probably won’t do any good, but it’s the only hope he’s got.”
Dale was pale and shaking, but he kept his hand pressed tight to his friend’s neck.
“What the hell is going on?” He spoke in a near whisper, almost as if he wasn’t certain he wanted an answer.
I decided he’d sleep easier in the future if I kept my mouth shut. I mentally apologized to Randy as I wiped my blood-slick hand on his pants leg, then I picked up my trancer and stood. Keeping my head low to avoid catching a dark shard in one or both of my eyes, I made my way over to Jinx, making sure to keep his body between me and the street.
I checked on Cubs-Cap. He was standing and gaping like an idiot, his gaze moving from his wounded friend to Jinx and back again.
“You moron! You’re lucky you haven’t been hit yet! Get your ass down!”
Cubs-Cap looked startled, as if the possibility he might be struck by a blade hadn’t occurred to him. He flung himself belly-first to the sidewalk, hitting so hard that his face smacked the concrete. Ouch.
Constructs formed from the substance of an Incubus’ body don’t last long, and the dark shards embedded in Jinx’s back were already starting to fade. Jinx jerked his head to the side as a shard came flying at him. It flew past him, missing my head only by inches. It struck the building behind us, shattering the window of a pawnbroker’s shop.
“How about a little warning next time?” I scolded him.
“My bad,” Jinx said, and then gave a soft giggle. “Emphasis on bad.”
By this time, most of the pedestrians had cleared the street, although a few idiots remained, unable to stop watching the action. I wanted to shout, This isn’t a TV show, dumbasses! But I knew it wouldn’t do any good.
Still using Jinx as a shield, I said, “I don’t get it. Since when does Quietus start attacking random people on the street?”
Quietus was an assassin for hire, and he had a reputation for working quick, neat, and – you guessed it – quiet. It wasn’t like him to be wasteful with his weapons, either. One shard, one strike, one kill. That had been his MO up to this point. Something had happened to change that, but what?
“Maybe he decided he needed a change of pace,” Jinx said. “Every Incubus needs to cut loose now and then.”
“Emphasis on cut,” I said as another shard streaked past. This one hit the side of the building, bounced, and clattered to the sidewalk.
Jinx started to chuckle, but then he stopped. “There he is.”
I looked past Jinx and saw a slash of darkness in one of the third-floor windows across the street. The window was open, and a shadow emerged and fell silently through the air – to land just as silently on the sidewalk below. Quietus looked like a tall, thin man garbed from head to toe in midnight-black spandex. He had no visible facial features – for all I knew, he didn’t have any – but his head was pointed at us, and I had the impression that whatever sense he might’ve possessed in place of sight, he was using it to “look” straight at us.
And then he turned and began sprinting eastward down the sidewalk.
Why was he fleeing? It wasn’t as if Jinx and I had had a bead on him. Was there a limit to how many dark shards Quietus could create from his body in a short amount of time? If so, that could mean – for the moment, at least – that he was weaponless. But I didn’t have time to strategize. Jinx and I needed to haul ass if we didn’t want to lose him.
The dark shards in Jinx’s back were gone now, as were those that had struck him in the
front. His clothes were blood-stained and had vertical cuts in the fabric where the shards had hit, but his wounds were already in the process of healing. I have to admit that there are certain advantages to being a nightmare made flesh.
“Let’s go,” I said.
Jinx started running east down the sidewalk, his huge shoes beating a rapid slap-slap-slap cadence as he went. I cast a quick look back at the unlucky trio. Randy lay on the sidewalk, his skin ashen. If he was still alive – and that was a big if – I knew he wouldn’t be for much longer. Dale knelt next to his friend, both hands pressed to Randy’s throat wound now, not that it would do much good. Cubs-Cap – whose name I still didn’t know – lay flat on his belly, unaware that he didn’t have to worry about being hit by flying daggers anymore.
I wanted to say something, apologize for not capturing Quietus before he’d lodged one of his dark shards in Randy’s neck. But I knew nothing I could say would help, so I turned and ran after Jinx, once more grateful that I value function over fashion when it comes to footwear. Flats may not be stylish, but you try chasing down a homicidal nightmare in heels.
Quietus headed eastward toward the lake, moving as swiftly as the shadows he resembled. He wove between pedestrians without knocking them down – which is more than I can say for Jinx. If someone didn’t get out of his way fast enough, he’d shove them to the side, or jam an elbow in their ribs. Sometimes he’d leap over them, as if his legs were made of coiled springs. There was no way I could keep up with Jinx at his full speed, so I ran as hard as I could and tried to make sure I at least kept the two Incubi in my sight.
As I ran, I shouted, “Out of the way! Official Shadow Watch business!” in the hope that my warning might spare a few pedestrians bruises or cracked ribs. I’ve found that in the midst of chaos, people look for whatever guidance and reassurance they can get. So even if they’ve never heard of the Shadow Watch – and since we’re way beyond a secret organization, no one has – shouting in an authoritative voice and using the word official was enough to get most people’s attention and ensure their cooperation.
As we ran, my mind raced as fast as my feet. I still couldn’t figure out what was happening. Why would Quietus – up to now a thoroughly professional and, more importantly, restrained assassin – suddenly go batshit crazy and start throwing dark shards around like they were confetti? It didn’t make sense. Sure, we’d been on his trail, but we hadn’t been that close. As an Incubus, he was as capable of sensing others of his kind as Jinx was, and there was a good chance he would’ve caught wind of us in time to make a run for it. So why attack us? Quietus had to know his dark shards would have no lasting effect on Jinx. All he’d managed to do was alert us to his presence and kill an innocent bystander in the bargain.
Then it hit me. Not only was Quietus highly skilled at what he did, he was an Incubus, which meant he was inhumanly skilled. I’d assumed that Quietus had been trying to hit me or Jinx with his first dark shard but accidently hit Randy instead. But Quietus never missed, which meant that he had wanted to hit Randy. Randy had been his intended target all along. Jinx and I had stumbled across him by accident, forcing Quietus to act.
Anger and frustration welled inside me. Without knowing it, we’d located Quietus’ target, and instead of protecting him, we’d gotten into a fight with him and his friends, and ended up standing around like morons as Quietus took him out. Sanderson wouldn’t just be displeased. He’d be furious. But I didn’t care. There was no way our boss could be madder at me than I was at myself.
My calf muscles started to cramp. The pain was mild at first, and I was able to keep running without losing much speed. But the pain soon intensified and spread to my thighs. I gritted my teeth and tried to fight past the pain, but I began to slow down despite my efforts. Ideators like me don’t need to sleep, but our bodies still require rest, just like anyone else.
I wasn’t about to let a little thing like weary muscles keep me from doing my job, though. I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out an object that resembled an asthma inhaler. I jammed it in my mouth and sucked in a deep lungful of chemicals A wave of warmth rushed through my body and washed away the weariness. Not only did my legs no longer hurt, they felt ready to run a marathon.
Strong and refreshed, I started picking up speed again, and I tucked the inhaler back into my pocket. Thank the First Dreamer for rev. Sometimes I think I couldn’t survive my job without it.
I was more determined than ever to catch Quietus and bring him to justice. And if he happened to get killed while trying to evade capture… well, I wouldn’t shed any tears over his loss, and I doubted anyone at the Rookery would either, Sanderson included.
I figured Quietus’ main objective at this point would be to find a Door. Their number and location change every night, which makes locating them a real pain in the ass. Shadow Watch officers get a little help in this department, though. Our wispers – communication devices that resemble wide silver bracelets – can locate Doors, provided we’re close enough to them. Only Incubi can open Doors, however, so if I don’t have Jinx with me, it doesn’t matter how many Doors I find; I’m not going through. Incubi can sense Doors without any technological help, but it’s hard for them to do on the fly. As long as we kept Quietus running, he wouldn’t have the opportunity to stop and search for a Door, which was exactly what we wanted. Catching him would be a hell of lot easier if he remained on this side. If he found a Door and passed through to Nod, tracking him down would be a lot harder.
After leading us down various streets and alleys, Quietus brought us to Millennium Park. Specifically, to the AT&T Plaza, where the sculpture called Cloud Gate is located – although because of its shape, locals refer to it simply as the Bean. If you’ve never been to Chicago, you’ve probably seen pictures of it or watched a movie in which it was featured. As numerous Internet sites will tell you, it’s made from almost two hundred stainless steel plates welded together and highly polished so there are no visible seams. It’s thirty-three by sixty-six by forty-two feet, and weighs one hundred tons. Its surface reflects and distorts the city’s skyline, kind of like a gigantic three-dimensional funhouse mirror, and it’s a favorite stop for tourists.
I wasn’t sure what Quietus was thinking, leading us to so much open space. At this time of night, the plaza was empty, and the lack of bystanders – coupled with the scarcity of cover – meant that I could get off any number of clean shots at Quietus. Of course, that would work both ways, and with Jinx having outdistanced me by a dozen yards or more, I no longer had my psychotic clown partner to intercept Quietus’ dark shards for me.
The instant the thought occurred to me, I dodged to the side, just as Quietus spun around, flicked out a hand, and sent a dark shard hurtling toward me. If I hadn’t changed course, the shard would’ve pierced my heart, but as it was, it flew past, missing me by less than a foot. A bit too close for comfort, but a miss was a miss, and I’d take it.
Quietus had barely paused to throw his dark shard, but in the split second it had taken him to complete the maneuver Jinx found the chance he needed. He gave another of his great leaps and closed the distance between himself and Quietus. The assassin had already spun back around and resumed running, and so he didn’t see Jinx coming.
Jinx landed on Quietus’ back like a ton of bricks covered in clown-white makeup, and the two of them went down in a rolling heap of living nightmare. They were both on their feet in an instant. A pair of dark shards appeared in Quietus’ hands – actually, it looked as if they were his hands – while Jinx reached into his inner jacket pocket and withdrew an impossibly long sledgehammer.
Jinx had an advantage over the assassin. While Quietus created weapons out of his own substance, Jinx used his Incubus abilities to store weapons on his person. Jinx swung his hammer, struck Quietus a blow on his left shoulder, and the shadowy assassin went flying.
“Fore!” Jinx yelled.
Quietus flew toward the Bean and slammed into its side hard enough to le
ave a good-sized dent before bouncing off and falling to the ground. Crap, I thought. Now Sanderson would have to send M-gineers to fix the Bean. I sighed. There went my holiday bonus.
Quietus lay on the ground, stunned. Jinx had hit him hard enough to kill a human, but Incubi are made of tougher stuff. Quietus wouldn’t lie there long, so we had to work fast.
Jinx ran toward Quietus, sledgehammer lifted high over his head. Subtlety isn’t one of my partner’s prime attributes.
“Stay clear!” I told him. I stopped running, aimed my trancer, and flicked the selector switch to the highest setting. Since Incubi are made of Maelstrom energy, they tend to be immune to it – at low levels. But higher levels create an energy overload within their system, wounding and in some cases killing them.
Using my trancer at the highest setting would quickly deplete the remaining charge, but I knew it was the best chance we had at taking Quietus down, so I fired. A blazing beam of swirling multicolored light shot toward Quietus, so bright that Jinx averted his eyes. I squinted mine and kept my gaze trained on Quietus as best I could.
In the time it had taken me to stop and fire, the assassin had started to rise, and he was already halfway to his feet when the trancer’s beam streaked toward him. His reflexes were inhumanly fast, though, and he managed to leap out of the beam’s path. The beam struck the Bean – making an even larger dent this time, damn it! – and ricocheted, this time angling upward toward the sky. The beam dissipated as it should have, but then a small sphere of Maelstrom energy appeared in midair above the Bean. Golf ball-sized at first, it rapidly increased until it was as large as a car.
I ran over to Jinx, who had lowered the sledgehammer to his side and was gazing up at the expanding sphere of multicolored energy.
“What the hell is happening?” I asked. “Is that… an Incursion?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. You want me to throw the sledge at it?”
To show how desperate I was, I actually considered it. But before I could say anything, the sphere shuddered and then exploded in a burst of light so intense that I had to shield my eyes. Afterimages danced on my retinas, and I knew that Jinx’s vision was similarly obscured, which meant we were vulnerable to attack.