No Darker Fate

by John Corwin

  The ruptured gate to hell sent Victor into a paroxysm of amazement. "This is it. This is the ticket."

  "For your mysterious friends?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "The ones who promised to tell you all about them. What are they, angels? Agents of Heaven?"

  Victor sighed. "I don't know who or what they are. All I know is they're not entirely human."

  "How do you know this?"

  "I can't go into it. All you need to know is that we need information on these people badly."

  "They're obviously dangerous."

  "That would be understating it."

  Alexia took two of Lucas's compact memory cards and made two copies of the video. She kept one for herself and gave Victor the original and a copy. "Do I still need to apply for a job with Maids Are Us?"

  He held up the memory card. "You just completed a Hail Mary for a comeback, Sciouris."

  Back outside, they walked to the wreckage that had once been a parking lot. Hardly any cars were untouched by the battles waged there. The insurance companies were going to have their hands full. Alexia heard residents giving the police their accounts of the fight between Lucas and the nameless ghoul. Detective Evans saw Alexia and Victor and walked over.

  "I'm gonna need the fucking U.S. military when this is said and done," he said. "What kind of people are capable of doing this shit?"

  "The last two ghouls were David Young and Maria Wood. Who was the chained one?" Alexia asked.

  "Ghouls?"

  "That's what I'm calling these creatures."

  "Makes sense. They don't act human anymore."

  "Do you know who the third was?"

  Evans motioned her over to his unmarked car. Victor followed. Evans pulled out a laptop and looked at some files for a minute. "This third ghoul is most likely Simion Moore, a computer technician. We believe he's responsible for the murders of several homeless folk downtown."

  "He's so young," Alexia said. David Young and Maria Wood were in their early thirties. Moore was twenty-two."

  Evans got out and leaned against his car. "You had front-row seats, Agent Sciouris. Care to tell me what happened to the ghouls after they flipped that car?"

  "They ran away."

  "Bullshit. I had a sniper on a roof across the street keeping an eye on that car. No way they could've run from back there unseen."

  "Fine. You want the truth? Moore tore a hole in the air and they vanished inside it."

  Evans narrowed his eyes. "God damn. You might be telling the truth."

  "Whatever really happened, Detective, you can't report it. People will think you're crazy."

  "I'm beginning to believe we're all psycho," he said. "Tell you what, how 'bout you two keep your mouths shut about that, and we'll go with the 'ran away' theory."

  Alexia shrugged. "Your call."

  Evans shook his head and sat down in the squad car with his laptop. Victor tugged on Alexia's shirt and directed her away. "Nice deflection, Agent Sciouris. Sometimes the truth is too outrageous to believe."

  "Whatever." She wanted to slap him.

  Confusion reigned in the parking complex. People from the street were slipping through the haphazard police line at the entrances. News choppers hovered overhead. News crews on the ground were interviewing residents.

  A tall black man with a shaved head waited with a handsome blonde man just outside the police cordon. Victor walked up to them and offered his hand. Neither man took it.

  "Thomas and Adam, this is Alexia, my associate," Victor said.

  Thomas's eyes turned pitch black for a split second. Victor didn't seem to notice, but the change was obvious and frightening. Somehow she knew these people were like Lucas and Phillip. Maybe even like the ghouls. Hopefully they were sane.

  Thomas extended his hand to Alexia. "Pleasure." His voice was deep and resonant. She recognized it as belonging to the man Victor had previously met at the mausoleum.

  She took his hand and tried not to flinch. His hands were huge. He was huge. He looked like a football linebacker with a thick neck and bulging muscles and his voice rumbled, full of base. Adam was shorter but still tall. He moved with a sinuous grace, his ice-blue eyes missing nothing. He could have been a male model, she thought, from the way his designer clothes fit his broad shoulders and clung to his flat stomach. Thomas wasn't nearly as easy on the eyes with his large head and rough skin.

  Adam looked at Thomas for a split second, a question in his eyes.

  "We have video of everything," Victor said, glancing sideways at Alexia. "We also have names of those involved."

  "Who?"

  "The ghouls and possibly the one who made them that way."

  Before Thomas could ask, Alexia explained her term for the resurrected demons. He nodded and pursed his lips in approval.

  "Have I earned my information?" Victor asked.

  "I believe you have, but my superior will answer that definitively."

  Adam made a curt gesture for them to follow. Victor did so without question. Alexia hesitated. Thomas hung back with her.

  "I can see the fear in your eyes. Know that you will never come to harm by our hands, sister."

  She drew in a sharp breath. "What did you call me?"

  "Come with us. You have an important decision to make."

  The skin along her back tingled like mad. This meeting might be the culmination of everything she'd wondered about. She nodded and followed Thomas to the same white compact car she'd seen at the mausoleum. Victor climbed into the back.

  "That's kind of small for four people," Alexia said, nodding at the tiny thing.

  Thomas shrugged. "Fuel's expensive."

  "Like angels or demons need to worry about fuel. I'd expect you to be driving a white stretched Hummer."

  Thomas belted out a deep booming laugh. "I'm afraid you're in for a big disappointment."

  Chapter 23

  Alexia wondered if angels were pro-environment or just on a tight budget as Thomas's compact car cut through traffic and headed in the general direction of East Atlanta. Before long, they entered a residential area with quaint restored houses and tiny well-manicured lawns. Alexia lost track of the turns they took but the area seemed familiar. Thomas turned on Moreland Avenue. A skull with swirling red eyes and a gaping mouth greeted them. It was the Vortex, a restaurant well known for its burgers and beer. They were in Little Five Points.

  Colorful shops lined the road and artful graffiti adorned the sides of old brick buildings. Motorcycles rumbled down the avenue and pedestrians from all walks of life packed the sidewalks. Alexia stared at the wild mix of people. Motorcycle gang members, Goth kids, older city folk and even a few suburbanites sat in a plaza lined with restaurants and quirky shops. Alexia had only been through the area once on a cold rainy day and hadn't noticed just how different the people were. She found herself liking it almost immediately.

  Thomas pulled into a parking lot behind a small theatre. A privacy fence guarded the large perimeter. Everyone got out of the car. Victor's eyes combed the area. A sheen of oily sweat on his pale face glistened in the sun. Both Thomas and his associate kept their distance from Victor. Adam opened a steel door in the back of the theatre. She and Victor followed them inside.

  "What the hell is this place?" Victor asked.

  "A good place to go unnoticed," Thomas said.

  "In the middle of a freak show?"

  They descended several flights of stairs. Alexia calculated they had to be well underground by now. The stairs terminated at what appeared to be a white-walled lobby furnished with padded brown chairs and a table covered with magazines that might be present in a doctor's office. The décor was so understated and the room so mundane, that Alexia began to doubt her theory about angels. Unless these angels had been cast from Heaven as punishment, their sense of the aesthetic seemed inadequate.

  A young girl wearing a faded denim skirt, knee-high striped socks, clogs, and a tube top entered the lobby from a door on the left side of
the room. Heavy mascara underlined her eyes, and her hair, brown with streaks of green, was held in lopsided ponytails by strips of black ribbon.

  "Dara, we need to talk to Marissa," Thomas said.

  Dara's eyes darkened and swept over Alexia and Victor before reverting back to normal. "She's meeting with Andre in the main conference room."

  Thomas raised his eyebrows. "Grand Arbiter Andre is here?"

  "Yeah, just arrived."

  "Is Marissa the one who can give me answers?" Victor asked.

  Dara cut her eyes to Thomas and pursed her lips. "Maybe he should wait down the hall until Marissa can get to him."

  "I won't accept delaying tactics," Victor said. "I've done everything you've asked. I've earned this."

  Thomas opened a door on the opposite side of the lobby from where Dara had entered. "Believe me, we're not delaying anything. Wait in the first room on the right. Marissa or someone authorized to help will be with you soon as they can."

  "What about my associate?" Victor said, pointing at Alexia.

  "She can't participate in your conversation. If you want to tell her anything later, you can."

  He seemed to take satisfaction in holding that advantage. "Good idea. Alexia, why don't you have a seat?" He entered the hall.

  Thomas closed the door behind him. "Glad I don't have to deal with him."

  Dara rolled her eyes. "We got a newbie and a chum?"

  "Maybe. When can we talk to Marissa? It's important."

  "I'm not her secretary. Go ask her yourself."

  "Fine." Thomas waved Alexia to follow as he grumbled about snarky girls.

  "What did she mean by 'newbie'?" Alexia asked as they walked down a maze of rooms and halls.

  "Save your questions for Marissa."

  They arrived at a set of stained oak doors. Thomas opened one and poked his head in. He pulled back and motioned for Alexia to wait then entered the room and closed the door. Several minutes later, Thomas opened the door and motioned Alexia in as he left. She entered and Thomas closed the door behind her. A woman, her long black hair in a tight pony tail, sat at one end of a rectangular oak table. She looked to be in her early twenties but more mature and composed than one would expect for that age. Next to her sat an older man with a rounded face and a reddish complexion. His brown hair showed streaks of gray. His slacks and oxford looked wrinkled and dusty. He could pass for a college professor.

  Both stood.

  The woman spoke first. "I'm Marissa and this is Andre. You've met my seeker, Thomas, and my executor, Adam. They tell us you have important news."

  "I thought Victor was going to tell you everything," Alexia said.

  She shook her head. "He's chum. Not one of us. You, on the other hand, can be."

  "What does that mean?" Alexia forced back a torrent of questions. She took a free seat at the end of the table and stared at Marissa and Andre. "For your information, I'm with the FBI. I think it's time you gave me some answers. Otherwise, things will get nasty."

  Andre smiled. "If that were true, you would never have been allowed in here." He had a slight British accent with a soothing baritone voice, the kind that belonged on the radio. "You crave something different. You want to make a difference. Confusion and bureaucracy stand in your way."

  "And?"

  "We know your motives are pure, Miss Sciouris. The question is: Are you willing to take the next step? I'm talking about a life-changing irrevocable step. You may have to resign from your position with the FBI. You will be sworn to secrecy and have to abide by a strict covenant. You may no longer wish to associate with people you once knew as friends and colleagues."

  "What the hell is this, the angel fraternity?"

  Andre chuckled. "No. I'm afraid angels don't exist. Neither does Heaven, Hell, or any of those mythological beings associated with them. What I'm offering you is real but it comes at a price." Andre walked to a small fridge at one end of the room. "Would you like a drink?"

  "No thanks."

  He grabbed a bottle of water and took his seat.

  Marissa spoke. "This is a very unorthodox way to introduce you to us, Alexia, but dangerous circumstances require this. Usually a potential member undergoes a battery of tests, both physical and mental. You've seen so much already, that we don't have much of a choice in the matter unless we perform some nasty procedures to make you forget recent events."

  Alexia recoiled, felt for her pistol.

  "You won't need your weapon," Andre said.

  Had she been that obvious? "Tell me what I need to know."

  Andre nodded and began to speak. He described the Scions. The factions. Their history. Some of what he said to her was disappointing. At the same time, she felt a profound sense of relief. She was special, a latent Scion.

  "Once you attune me, there's no going back?"

  "The process is one way."

  "Do I have to choose a red or blue pill?"

  "Pills?" Andre raised an eyebrow.

  "Will you imprint me with the Covenant?"

  "Time is short and you're at an age where imprinting is more difficult. I want you to be on the frontlines with our investigative team searching for Lucas Fowler and his associates. It's imperative we find him and the arbiter controlling him."

  "Will I be attached to an arbiter?" Just the thought of being attached to a mind reader made her queasy. Then again they could be reading her right this very moment.

  "No. We have only a limited number of arbiters and nearly three times as many seekers. You'll be independent but acting under my authority. Marissa is the head arbiter for our operations in Atlanta, so if you can't reach me, talk to her."

  Alexia looked at Marissa. "You look too young to be the head of anything."

  Marissa looked at Andre. Alexia could sense unspoken conversation between the two of them. Her extra sense had been relatively quiet, but now fingers of electricity tapped up her spine.

  "You're not telling me something," Alexia said.

  Marissa turned her gaze back to Alexia. Her lips curved into a smile, but the smile stopped short of her eyes. "We base leadership upon ability, not age."

  That didn't satisfy Alexia's sense of foreboding. There was something more. "Do the Statists pose a danger?"

  Andre shook his head. "Not in the physical sense. Even though our stances are radically different, neither faction can afford a war. Chum outnumber us nearly ten-thousand to one even if we count every latent Scion in the general population."

  "And the Statists want Scions to enforce minority rule over them?"

  He nodded. "For their own good, of course."

  "You're still not telling me something important. I don't plan to agree to anything until you tell me."

  "We've spoken about the benefits of becoming an initiated Scion," Marissa said.

  "And you told me about the price of becoming one. Keeping quiet about our existence seems like common sense."

  "There is another price. A heavier price." Marissa looked at Andre who crossed his arms and nodded. "Once you're attuned, that means your physical abilities will kick in, your heart rate will increase, your brain activity will sharpen. You'll need to eat more to keep your body fueled. For most of us, recharging is a simple matter of eating right. Some Scions developed strange diets. For some alcohol recharges them better than anything else. In Lucas Fowler's case it appears carrots do the trick."

  "None of this sounds all that serious," Alexia said. "So what if I have to eat carrots?"

  "The point is that your physiology changes a great deal. Your body will produce and use a lot more adrenalin. Your muscles, joints, bones, organs, will heal ten times faster and absorb a lot more punishment."

  "I fail to see the downside."

  Marissa sighed. "Some potential initiates think that they're about to become immortal. You can still die."

  "With the stones."

  "Or without. Major trauma will kill you."

  "Then what are the stones for?"

  "Some believe t
hey save your essence and recycle it. Nobody knows for sure. Even before the factions existed, it was the accepted method of execution for Scions—painless. Stones kill us without major trauma. Any Scion who ventures too close to active stones will feel their life force drain."

  Alexia puzzled over Marissa's answer for a few seconds. Something stuck in her mind but she couldn't put a finger on what it was. She was about to give up on it when it jumped out at her. "Wait, you said we're not immortal. Do we have an extended lifespan?"

  "I didn't want to go into this because I'm afraid it will influence your decision."

  Andre spoke. "Your participation is vital to this investigation. Becoming an attuned Scion is extremely rewarding." Just then he sounded like a used car salesman, or one of those people on TV trying to sell a gyrating chair as an exercise machine.

  Alexia felt the unspoken truth like a ball of ice in her stomach. What they weren't saying could determine her path. "Spit it out, damn you."

  "While it varies for every Scion, your lifespan will be shorter than the average chum's," Andre said.

  "Shorter than what, seventy years?"

  "Arbiters tend to live longer on average than chum. Seekers live around fifty years at the most."

  "From the time they're attuned?"

  "No, from birth. Date of attunement doesn't seem to matter much except by a year or two."

  "And executors?"

  "Thirty to forty."

  "My God. They shrivel up and die in their prime?"

  "Their organs give out, usually the heart. The body gives all it can until something goes. We've tried medical solutions but there's only so much you can do."

  Alexia's heart sank. "If I go through with this, I might have another twenty years of life?"

  "Would you rather live another hundred years trapped as a chum, or another twenty as their anonymous champion?"

  The electricity crawling up Alexia's neck subsided. She had the answer she needed. This was the proverbial fork in the road, not yet the proverbial knife in the heart. That would come in twenty years or so. Oddly enough, having a shortened life span didn't bother her that much. She wished she'd known about this twenty years ago. The idea of the Blight, the hidden world, intrigued her more than anything—something to explore, to study. Perhaps she could help the Transcendists discover the switch that would allow chum to become Scions.