Damned If You Don't (Chaos of the Covenant Book 5)

by M. R. Forbes

  The woman laughed. “It figures a visitor would have the best display. Head that way about four blocks, turn left, look for the building that’s lighting up the entire city.” She smiled again and went on her way.

  “Joker, I”m going to head over to some place called Taggers to look for our mark. Let me know once you’ve made it into Brighton.”

  “Aye, Queenie,” Benhil replied. “We’re dropping at a fashion station now. ETA thirty minutes.”

  “Roger. Queenie out.”

  17

  The outside of Brighton was a dazzling spectacle.

  The inside of Taggers was nothing short of insane.

  Loud, thumping music. Individuals of all races and nations everywhere, each of them coated in their own array of flashing lights. Multiple bars and stages, bots floating around offering some concoction that spewed smoke, and a chaotic blend of excitement and relaxation threatened to permeate her focus.

  She might have enjoyed the place if she were there as a civilian, though there were some elements that didn’t sit well. The music was one thing. The lights, something else. But there were other things going on inside Taggers. Pleasure synths, prostitution, drug use. It wasn’t obvious just walking through the place, but Abbey could see the signs of it. Dark corners in a place like this? Specially marked doors? Then there were the visitors who had embedded lights directly into their flesh, walking around unclothed for all of the galaxy to see. And it wasn’t only humans. Atmos, Trovers, even a couple of Skinks. Taggers was a place where anything seemed to go, and hardly anyone seemed to notice.

  But was her target in here?

  He would be tough to find in Brighton no matter what she did. He would be harder to find in here, where the density was tight enough that she could barely make it two steps without bumping into someone, or having someone bump into her.

  “Joker,” she said softly into her comm. “What the frag is taking you so long?”

  “Queenie,” Benhil replied. “Sorry, Queenie. Pik’s being a pain in the ass.”

  “Nothing fits me,” Pik said.

  “Too small?” Abbey asked.

  “Too big. It’s embarrassing. They’re sold out of all of the most common Trover sizes. I don’t want to be common.”

  “There’s nothing common about you,” Benhil said.

  “How do you mean that?”

  “Do you all have lights on your clothes?” Abbey said.

  “Yeah.”

  “Then get the frag over here. I can’t do this by myself. There are at least a thousand individuals in Taggers alone.”

  “We’re on our way. Give us a few.”

  Abbey dropped the comm link and continued making her way through Taggers. She was drawing a lot of looks from the other partiers, a lot of them making comments on her outfit on the way past. She was having fun with that part of the work, alternating the patterns and colors and impressing anyone nearby. It didn’t have to be all business, and it fit with her cover.

  She made up to one of the multiple bars in the building, reaching the counter and turning her head to see along the line of patrons. She would never be able to find her target from this angle. She needed to get up higher.

  “What are you doing down here?” the bartender asked. He was a Fizzig, and he waddled slowly to her, picking up a glass in a meaty hand.

  “What do you mean?” Abbey asked. It was a strange way to approach someone.

  He pointed past her overcoat. “You could win the Lightshow with that.” He pointed to her left, and she looked to a currently empty stage. “It’s starting in two minutes. Just enough time to get over there and win.”

  Abbey didn’t have any interest in winning any contests. She did have an interest in getting her eyes above the crowd. She shrugged off her coat, glancing at the bartender, who was staring at the guns on her hips.

  “A girl can’t be too safe,” she said, before removing the guns and putting them with her coat. She handed the whole thing out toward him. “Watch this for me, will you?”

  His eyes traveled the length of her body, mesmerized by the lights. He couldn’t figure out how she was producing them. Good. He took her coat and the guns, putting them behind the counter.

  “What do I win, anyway?” she asked.

  “You don’t know? An outfit like that and you didn’t wear it specifically to win the Lightshow?”

  “No. I didn’t think this was that big of a deal.”

  He laughed. “Trust me, your highness. It’s a big deal.”

  Abbey’s eyes narrowed at the reference. “Why did you call me that?” she asked, leaning over the bar.

  He put up his hands. “What? Because you’re going to be the Queen of the Show. That’s all. I didn’t mean any harm.”

  She backed off. “Right. So what do I win again?”

  “Fifty-thousand.”

  “If I win, half of it is yours.”

  He grunted. “You aren’t the first Terran female to make that promise.”

  “I’ll be the first to keep it.”

  “Yeah, right. I’d wish you luck, but you don’t need it.” He huffed and turned away.

  She shrugged and headed in the direction he had pointed, finding a group of individuals waiting near a set of steps up to the stage. They were all decked out in different attire that flashed and blinked and streamed and glowed, giving them an almost unreal ethereal appearance. They were all talking to one another, clearly accustomed to the friendly competition of the Lightshow, but they slowly fell silent as each of them noticed her approaching.

  “Wow,” a narrow Atmo female said. She had a complex illuminated contraption circling her naked body, casting her gray skin in a colorful hue. “I might as well not even bother going up there.”

  “Awesome work,” another contestant said. He was a human in baggy clothes, the lights and folds in the cloth working together to create a moving image as he shifted.

  “This is not better than that,” Abbey said, impressed by the work.

  “It is, sister,” the Atmo said. “It looks like the light is coming from your skin. All of your skin.”

  In a sense, it was.

  Another Fizzig trundled up to her. “You entering the Show?” he asked.

  “The bartender suggested I should.”

  He smiled. “My brother. Yeah, you should. We’re lining up right now. I’m going to put you at the end, let everyone else build up to you.”

  Abbey shrugged. She didn’t care. She just wanted the better perspective. “Okay.”

  “Queenie,” Benhil said as the Fizzig positioned them. “We just reached Brighton.”

  “Good. Spread out and keep your eyes peeled for the target.”

  “Okay, but it’s going to be like trying to find a cow in a snowstorm.”

  “What?”

  “Cow in a snowstorm. You know, cows are white. Snow is white.”

  “I grew up on Earth, and I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Never mind. It’s going to be tough.”

  “So don’t waste time.”

  “Okay, Creatures of the Light,” the Fizzig shouted as the music came to an abrupt stop. “It’s time to put on a show.”

  He started laughing as he tapped the communicator on his thick chest.

  “The razzle. The dazzle. The Lightshow is about to begin!” He looked back at Abbey as the crowd in Taggers cheered. “They’re going to go wild.”

  The line of contestants began making their way up the ramp, handled by a Terran at the top of the steps who told them when to start strutting across the stage. Abbey thought the whole thing was stupid, but at least she would get a quick scan of the entire field and then she could get the frag out.

  The crowd continued to cheer as each of the contestants made their way up to the stage, vanishing from her sight one by one until she was the only one left. It seemed to her that they held her back a little longer than the others, giving her a grand entrance she didn’t want or think she deserved.

&n
bsp; “You’re up, your highness,” the Fizzig said, smiling and ushering her toward the steps.

  “Queenie.”

  Abbey stopped and turned. Gant was pushing through the legs of the closest spectators, and he vaulted the divider and ran up to her.

  “Gant? What’s going on?”

  “I followed the goons in here. Then I saw you. Coincidence?”

  “Come on; we don’t have all night,” the Fizzig said.

  Abbey looked at him, and then at Gant. Then she grabbed Gant’s hand, pulling him along.

  “What’s this?” the Fizzig asked.

  “He’s my Gant,” Abbey replied. “He goes with the outfit.”

  Gant groaned as they started ascending the steps.

  “Joker, Okay, Cherub, make your way to Taggers asap. I think we have a situation developing.”

  “Of course we do,” Benhil replied.

  “On my way,” Jequn said.

  “Me, too,” Pik said.

  “Your Gant?” Gant said. “What are you doing anyway, Queenie? Or should I ask, what are you about to make me do?”

  “Do you know how to dance?” Abbey asked.

  “No.”

  “You do now.”

  They reached the top of the stage. Immediately, all of the lights near them went out, and the crowd hushed as they watched the light show that the naniates were producing. Abbey held onto Gant’s hands, tossing him out, pulling him back, and twirling around him. He was stiff. Uncomfortable. Dance lessons had been part of her Breaker training, along with etiquette and protocol. She put it to good use now.

  She moved her hips, rocking toward the front of the stage. The crowd was cheering loudly, but she didn’t care. She looked out at them, searching every face she could find in the sea of color below. She brought Gant in close, lifting him up, so their faces were close together.

  “What do the goons look like?” she asked, flipping him up and over her shoulders and down.

  He was stiff. Nervous in a way she hadn’t seen him before. He could fix a starship reactor with a wire and some snot, but he couldn’t dance?

  He stepped back and away from her, scanning the crowd. Then he surprised her, taking a totally different stance, his hips moving, his legs loose and shifting in rhythm to the music. He bounced toward her, climbing her arm and sliding around her torso, pausing halfway.

  “About ten rows back,” he said. “Black masks. No lights.”

  She spun him around again, lifting him and throwing him high into the air, while sending part of her sleeve out with him, encircling him with light. The crowd cheered louder at the same time she found the new arrivals. They were moving away from the stage, two of them holding someone by the arms.

  “Damn it,” Abbey said as Gant came down, momentarily cradled in her arms. “They’re making off with my shithead.”

  18

  “Throw me,” Gant said, sliding down her arm, holding her hand in his. “I’ll slow them down.”

  She pulled, and he folded back into her, sitting gently with his feet in her hand, ready to be propelled into the crowd. She could feel the Gift pulsing around her and inside her, so pure and bright and giving. Not at all like the corruption of the Nephilim. She pushed out with it, guiding it with her hand as she threw Gant forward, launching him over the crowd below.

  She froze as she realized that the Gift wouldn’t touch him. It would circle him, it would come near him, but it wouldn’t make contact. They had both believed it was his fury that had saved him from Ursan Gall’s wrath on Drune, but as Gant fell half a dozen meters short of the target, she realized that wasn’t the case.

  Somehow, he was immune. Completely immune. The naniates wanted no part of him. How? Why?

  It didn’t matter right now. Gant landed on top of the crowd behind the escaping targets, placing his feet on their shoulders and springing off them, using the density of the gathering to find purchase and pursue the individuals in the black masks.

  Abbey was static on the stage, and the crowd that had been cheering loudly only seconds ago started to boo, complaining because her light show had gone dark. She felt a tingle run through her skin, familiar to her and at the same time fresh. She followed the direction of the warning with her eyes as a second group of individuals in blacksuit and masks made themselves known, pushing through one of the side doors to the main stage of Taggers.

  “Frag,” she said.

  She dropped and rolled while a hail of flechettes whipped through the air where she had just been standing, vectoring in from both sides of the stage and hitting the lights above it, destroying them in a shower of sparks that got the masses cheering again. The music within the building changed to something loud and thumping and alien that covered up the din of the rounds.

  “Joker, where the frag are you?” she said, quickly finding Gant approaching the group that was trying to escape with her target.

  “Small problem, Queenie,” Joker said. “You’ve attracted your usual crowd of assholes who want to kill us. A group of Children jumped us two blocks from your position.”

  “I hate these fraggers,” Pik said.

  “I think we can take them, but they’re slowing us down big time.”

  “Why the frag didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  “I guess it slipped my mind while I was trying not to have my throat ripped out.”

  “Shitty excuse.”

  Abbey bounced to her feet. Gant was almost at the soldiers, and two of them had paused to confront him. He vanished beneath the sea of individuals who still had no clue what was happening, and a moment later the first of the blackmasks sank into it with him. Then he popped up, slamming the other enemy hard in the mask with his foot, the force of it knocking him back.

  A dark form landed on the stage beside her, bouncing too far to be anything but Gifted. She turned to face him, staring at the mask.

  “Halloween is an Earth holiday,” Abbey said. “And we’re a long way from Earth.”

  The Immolent remained still while a stream of metal slivers exploded from his suit. She raised her hand in response, spreading the Gift of the Shard out before her and catching them easily.

  A distraction. She realized it immediately but still almost too late. She spun, pulling the slivers with her bringing them around as more rounds screamed at her from the rear. The flechettes hit the sudden wall, but she had to keep spinning, turning back toward the Immolent before he could hit her from behind.

  She dove to the ground a second time, barely avoiding the blade as it whistled overhead, nearly removing hers. The Immolent had closed the gap in an instant, moving so fast she barely recovered in time to catch the blade between her hands, turning it aside. She kicked up, hitting him in the side and knocking him away, rolling to her feet again, and again having to evade the attacks from the enemy soldiers.

  “Joker, I really need you guys,” she said into her comm, bringing her wrists together as the Immolent’s blade came down again, stopped by the shardsuit.

  “Doing our best, Queenie,” Joker replied. “Cherub broke through; she should be on her way.”

  The Immolent kept at her, and she pushed out with the Gift, the force of it throwing him back and giving her a few seconds of breathing room. She managed to get up, reaching out with her hand and beckoning for the guns she had left behind the bar. The weapons came to her, launching through the air as if by magic. She caught one in each hand, firing on the Immolent as he approached. He evaded them all, seeming to blink in and out of existence as he dodged the rounds, covering the distance back to her in a second. He had almost reached her when something fell from the top of the building, landing between them and causing the Immolent to pull up.

  “Queenie,” Trin said without looking. “Sorry we’re late.”

  Trin closed on the Immolent, blades extending from her armor, which moved as fast as the enemy did, sparks flying as weapon met weapon.

  The crowd beneath them started screaming, finally realizing that something was wrong.
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br />   “Why doesn’t anyone use their damn communicators?” Abbey said, getting back up.

  The patrons were trying to run for the exits, clearing the area around Gant. Four of the enemies were down, including her target. Blood was running from the side of his head and chest.

  “Gant, why did you kill him?” Abbey asked.

  She jumped toward the shooters on her flank, using the Gift to catch their rounds and throw them back. The flechettes tore into two of the soldiers, the others managing to get back behind cover. She landed in the middle of them a moment later, freezing as she found herself surrounded by Goreshin.

  “I didn’t, Queenie,” Gant replied. “The assholes did.”

  “Queen of Demons,” one of them said, exchanging his gun for razor claws. “Prove it.”

  Abbey smiled, holding her hands out at her sides. The shardsuit extended beyond her fingers, creating dagger claws of her own. “Tell your boss if you live long enough. I’m not the same Cage he knew before, and he made the second biggest mistake of his miserable life to drag my daughter into this.”

  “You can tell him yourself,” the monster replied. “He’ll be here soon.”

  Abbey felt a sudden burst of fear and anger. Thraven was on his way here? She should have known. Why else would one of his Immolents be planetside? But what the hell was he coming here for?

  The questions were forgotten an instant later as the Children charged her in unison, moving in with claws and teeth.

  She brought her arms in, closing her eyes and pushing with the Gift. Her entire body flared with brilliant white light, causing them to yelp in sudden pain and confusion. The Light of the Shard vanished almost as quickly as it had come, but it left the Goreshin disoriented. Abbey charged forward, stabbing one of them in the base of the neck and holding it while she brought her other set of claws around and through, removing its head. She turned to the next, stabbing it in the head, backing away as it slashed blindly at her, moving back in and cutting its throat.

  “It’s fragging time!” Pik shouted, bursting into the building, clearing a path through the escaping civilians.

  “Queenie, we’re here,” Joker said through the comm, at the same time he started sending rounds across the suddenly open floor of Taggers and toward the blacksuits on the other side.