by Mel Odom
“Somebody’s got to make the armor and weapons. It doesn’t grow on trees, luv.”
“I thought with all the technology you had that you’d be using nanoforges.”
“My name is Angela, by the way.” She offered a hand.
Leah took it, felt the power of the grip, and said, “Leah. It’s nice to meet you.”
“And you as well. I’ve heard lots of things about you.”
“Oh.”
“We might be Templar,” Angela confessed, “but we’re not above a bit of gossip now and again.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Angela crossed her muscled arms and blew a stray lock of hair from her face. She gazed out at the smithy with pride.
“For some of the armor and weapons, sure, we could use nanoforges. But the weapons that are made here don’t do as well when machines make them. These weapons need the hands of the person that’s going to be using them upon them. They need to feel the souls of the people giving them shape and meaning.”
“Why?”
“The men and women here fold arcane energy into the metal. You can’t do that with machines. Power like that is put into the metal through blood, sweat, and tears. Through desire and need. There’s no replacing that.”
Across the room, Simon used a pair of tongs to lift a length of metal. He pulled his goggles back on, then handed the tongs and metal to the boy beside him.
Over the years of their friendship, Leah had seen Simon around kids on several occasions. In the redoubt, it was almost impossible to go anywhere without having children underfoot. Leah didn’t mind because their presence made the cavernous underground vault feel more homey, which she’d believed more than once was the strangest thing she could have thought. She’d been in hotspots around the world and wasn’t looking for a home.
Simon had a natural knack with kids. Leah had seen him with them in the saddest of times, such as when he’d had to tell them that a parent had fallen in battle, and when playing conditioning games in the Templar exercise rooms. Under the right circumstances, Simon acted just as big a child as any of them.
With Simon watching, the boy held the length of metal in the forge. Then he pulled it back out and carried it back to the anvil. Simon demonstrated how to strike the metal with a hammer, and the boy followed suit. It wasn’t long before the boy’s cadence echoed that of the other smiths.
“Is he training the boy to make swords?” Leah asked.
“Yes, but not like you think,” the woman replied. “Simon’s training young Chandler how to make his own swords. He’ll have to make his own armor before he’s done, of course. But for now they’re going to make a sword for him to practice with.”
“Oh.”
“If you want, I’ve got a chair over at the forge I’m working at,” Angela offered. “You can come and have a sit. And watch your man.”
“He’s not my man,” Leah said.
“Sorry. That’s not what I’d heard.”
Leah started to ask the woman what she’d heard.
Angela cocked an anticipatory eyebrow and looked entirely too predatory for Leah’s tastes.
“Never mind,” Leah replied.
Angela looked a little disappointed. “Come along then. I’ve also got water. You’re going to need that if you’re going to stay here.”
As Angela had predicted, Simon stayed wrapped up in the sword smithing for almost two hours. Leah had felt certain the young boy with him would have lost interest in the work, but he hadn’t. In fact, he seemed somewhat saddened when Simon gathered the sword blade up and rolled it into protective cloth.
Holding his bundle in both arms, the boy went out the door smiling. Leah studied Simon as he watched the boy go through the entrance. Simon appeared strained and not happy. He hadn’t even noticed Leah was there.
“One of the new recruits,” Angela whispered into Leah’s ears.
“What do you mean?” Leah asked.
“I mean that’s not a Templar child, luv. By his age, Templar children already know how to make swords, bows, and other weapons.”
Simon is recruiting from the civilians. Leah remembered Lyra Darius telling her that and felt slightly sickened. Sending civilians up against the demons was tantamount to murder.
Then Simon’s eyes fell onto Leah’s face and she saw the haunted look in his gaze. For a moment, Leah stood frozen, unable to speak. Taking long strides, Simon joined her. He reached out to take her hand, but ending up feeling her sadness and anxiety at the contact.
“What happened?” he asked, touching the side of her face with his fingers.
“It’s a long story,” she said.
“I’ve got time. Let me get back into my armor, and we’ll find a place to talk.”
The whole time that she related the tale of the destruction of the demon weapons plant, in far greater detail than she’d intended, Simon sat quietly and let her talk. They sat at the desk in his office in the quiet dark with only a single light on.
“The people you’re with,” Simon asked, “they can’t replace your eye?”
“They gave me a prosthesis.” Leah hated even talking about the subject. Discussing it seemed to magnify the helplessness she felt at her situation. She took the half-helmet from her backpack and handed it to him.
Simon studied the device. “I don’t know much about this.”
“It allows me limited vision when I wear it.” Leah tried to keep her tone light. “It not something I can wear to a cocktail party.” She tried a smile, but it didn’t fit right. “I think the eyepatch makes me more mysterious and provocative.”
Simon handed the prosthesis back to her and she put it away. He remained quiet for a moment, then he said, “If you would like, there are physicians here that can replace your eye.”
Trying not to show her surprise, Leah took a deep breath. Finally, she said, “No one can do that. The technology—” Her voice grew tight and she stopped speaking.
“The technology we have goes beyond what anyone else has,” Simon said. “When the Templar first began getting ready for the coming war with the demons, they knew it wasn’t enough to study weapons and weapons systems. Or armor. If they were going to stand a chance against anything that would come here to prey on mankind, they would have to find a way to prevent casualties and repair damage done to soldiers in the field.”
Leah tried to adjust to what Simon had said. She felt sick with anxiety. Don’t let this be a fantasy.
“Every time there’s been a war,” Simon went on, “like when the United States had their War Between the States in the 1860s, and the Iraq wars of the past century and this one that took place, munitions have taken large leaps in knowledge. The medical field has kept up. It’s had to.”
Voice so tight that she had to force it, Leah asked, “Are you sure you can do this?”
“The physicians can,” Simon replied.
“Have you seen it done?”
“Do I know anyone who’s had an eye replaced, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“I do.”
Less than twenty minutes later, a young Templar joined Simon and Leah in the office. He had dark red hair, freckles, and an honest smile. He carried his helm in his off hand and looked all of seventeen. He introduced himself as Eoin Murdoch.
“You sent for me, Lord Cross?” the young man asked.
“I did.” Simon gestured to Leah. “Miss Creasey was recently wounded in battle. She was told it was impossible to replace what she’d lost.”
The young Templar grinned. “No, ma’am. That’s not entirely true.”
“May I?” Leah asked.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Leah got up from her chair and walked over to Murdoch. Only faint traces of scarring remained on his face. She studied his brown eyes from several angles, then shook her head.
“I can’t tell,” she said.
“Tell what, ma’am?” Murdoch asked.
“Which eye you had replaced.”
Murdoch smiled
a little. “Begging your pardon, ma’am. It wasn’t one eye. It was both. Eight months ago, I was totally blinded during an encounter with the demons. They had to do some patchwork on my face as well. It was a very uncomfortable time.”
Leah couldn’t believe it. There was nothing to see that would tell her the young man’s eyes weren’t the ones he’d been born with.
“Was there anything you wished to know, ma’am?”
“How well do you see?”
“I see just fine, ma’am. Better than I did with my old eyes. There’s only so much human DNA can do.”
“Thank you,” Leah said.
Murdoch looked at Simon.
“That’s all, Mr. Murdoch,” Simon said.
The young Templar spun and walked back out of the room.
Weakly, Leah sat back in her chair. She stared at Simon.
He didn’t say anything.
“Yes,” she replied in a hoarse whisper. “Bloody yes I want my eye back.”
TWENTY-THREE
T he hidden doorway was only four feet tall. Warren had to scramble through in a duckwalk. On the other side, he held his torch over his head. Dust motes danced in the pale amber glare.
Air is going to be a problem, Warren told himself.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
Warren turned as Naomi clambered through the opening. She switched on her own torch and played her beam over the walls as well.
“There’s no rush,” Warren said, then looked away as her torch beam caught him squarely in the eyes.
“How far were you going to explore before you decided to let me know about this?”
“We can’t go any farther,” Warren said. “Not at this moment.”
Naomi shone her torch against the opposite wall. The beam stopped somewhere short of touching any other surface than the floor, ceiling, and side walls. The same kind of writing as on the outside of the structure covered them all.
“You need to get this one under better control,” Lilith said.
“What?” Naomi spun around and shone her torch on Lilith. The light touched the demoness but only enough to make her resemble a hologram.
She’s becoming more solid, Warren realized.
Surprised annoyance flashed across Lilith’s beautiful face.
“Who’s this?” Naomi demanded.
“I am Lilith.” She drew herself up to her full height. “And you would do well for yourself to have care around me.”
Naomi looked at Warren, and he nodded.
“Why can I see her now?” Naomi asked.
“She’s getting stronger,” Warren replied.
Cautiously, Naomi closed the distance to Lilith, then held out a hand to touch her. Lilith held her ground. Naomi’s fingertips at first sank through the demon as Warren’s had. Then a sudden blaze of electricity filled the room, and Naomi sailed backward over ten feet. She convulsed and jerked on the ground, then lay still.
“What did you do?” Warren raced over to Naomi’s side.
She wasn’t breathing. The whites of her eyes showed through her parted lids. Frantic, Warren laid his flesh and blood hand against the side of her neck and felt for a pulse. There wasn’t one.
“She annoys me,” Lilith replied.
“That doesn’t mean you can just kill her.”
Lilith looked at Naomi curiously. “It appears that I can.”
“If she dies,” Warren said before he stopped to think about what he was saying, “I’m going to walk out of here. I’ll be done. Do you hear me?”
Lilith walked over to him. For a moment Warren thought he was a dead man. He struggled to think of something he could say—anything he could say—that might appease her. Nothing came to mind.
“You would defy me?” she asked. “Knowing all that I could do to you?”
Warren thought desperately. Even if he took back what he’d said, it was too late. He’d already said it. Neither of them would forget.
“Yes,” he breathed hoarsely. “You will not kill my friends.”
“She isn’t your friend. She seeks only to use you.”
“You’re not my friend, either.”
“I gave you a hand when you had none.”
“You put me in Merihim’s path and let him hurt me.”
Lilith didn’t deny that.
Painfully aware of the time passing, reminding himself that the human brain lasted only for around four minutes once the heart stopped beating, Warren returned the demon’s stare. He couldn’t show weakness or he was as dead as Naomi was.
“You have placed me in harm’s way,” Warren said, “and you intend to put me there again.”
“I do,” the demon said softly.
“It can’t go all your way. I learned that from Merihim. You need me only until you find someone to replace me. But you’re not going to find that out here. You’re not going to find many as naturally powerful as I am. You know that.”
Lilith smiled at that. “Now you begin to see your own worth. You’re not going to be such a timid little mouse anymore, are you?”
Timid little mice die, Warren told himself. He’d been lucky against his stepfather. His luck wouldn’t work against the demon.
“I want her alive,” Warren grated.
“So that she may betray you?”
“So that she may live. I owe her that at least.”
“You don’t owe her as much as you think you do. You’ve already given her more than she would have managed on her own.”
How much time has passed? Warren wondered. “Do it, Lilith. Save her.”
“Remember this spirit that possessed you,” Lilith said. “Remember that it will get you killed…and that it will help you achieve what you desire. You have to be hard in this life, Warren. You can’t give in to others all the time.”
“Save her,” Warren whispered. “Now.”
Lilith leaned down and placed her hand over Naomi’s chest. Sparks suddenly crackled into the air. A surge of electricity spurted from Lilith’s hand and bathed Naomi’s chest. Naomi jerked inches off the ground, then crashed back down.
Afraid that the demon had short-circuited Naomi’s body and fried her brain, Warren placed his hand on the woman’s neck. Her pulse felt strong and steady. As he moved his hand back, she took a breath.
Relaxed and exhausted, Warren slumped back on his heels. He looked up at Lilith, who had retreated a few feet away and still managed to look irritated.
“Thank you,” Warren whispered.
“Let this be a warning to you,” Lilith said. “Never let this woman come between you and your service to me. If she does, I will end her life. And yours as well.”
Warren looked at her but wasn’t as afraid as he had been. Lilith had returned Naomi to life, or at least restarted her heart. Maybe Lilith didn’t like being held accountable for her actions or admitting that she wasn’t strong enough to do what she wished when she wished to do it, but Warren knew he possessed that power. A balance existed between them—somewhere. He needed to find it to better use it.
He didn’t respond to her threat, and he figured that was rebellion enough for the moment. He turned his attention back to Naomi, who remained unconscious.
“You need to come,” Lilith said.
“As I started to say,” Warren said calmly, “we have to wait.”
“Why?”
“The air is bad. Let some of the air from outside wash through the building for a little while. You don’t need me somewhere in the middle of this place collapsing and dying, do you?”
Lilith just faded from sight.
Warren panicked a little when the demon suddenly disappeared, but he felt certain she was only piqued and would be back as soon as he was ready to venture more deeply into the building. He retreated outside to his pack long enough to get a blanket for Naomi.
The snowfall had picked up. A layer of new-fallen white powder covered the building as well as the terrain. The zombies continued working in the awful cold and looked blue in the moo
nlight.
Warren wrapped Naomi, made sure she was breathing all right, then warmed both of them using his power. He leaned back against the wall to rest and somehow found sleep.
“Warren.”
Since the voice didn’t offer any immediate threat, Warren ignored it and stayed wrapped in his coat. He was warm there against the winter cold seeping into the room around him.
“Warren.”
It was Naomi. Warren kept his eyes shut. Then he sensed something hurtling at his head. He jerked his head up and instinctively put up a shield. Senses spinning so fast everything looked as if it were taking place in slow motion, he glanced up and saw the rock headed toward his face.
He gestured and the rock froze less than a foot from his face. He plucked the rock from the air and held on to it as he looked over to find Naomi standing on one side of the room.
“What?” she asked, exasperated. “It’s time to get up.”
“I’m tired,” Warren said, “and cold and hungry.” He rolled the rock between his fingers, and they both knew that he could turn it into a much worse weapon than she’d used it as.
“I let you sleep,” Naomi countered. “I’ve been awake for over two hours. It’s daylight outside.”
Warren looked through the door and saw a blurred grayness reflecting on the snow and indicating that the sun had risen. He closed his fist—the silver one—and crushed the rock to powder, then let it leak between his fingers.
“Where’s Lilith?” he asked.
“I haven’t seen her.”
Warren struggled to his feet. He hated letting go of the warmth he’d built inside his coat. The winter chill nipped at him at once. His body ached from sleeping in a seated position, and from all the walking and manual labor he’d been doing over the past few days.
“I’m out here,” Lilith called.
Wary, Warren stepped back through the opening. Lilith stood atop the ditch that the zombies had dug out to reach the buried structure. The zombies continued the excavation, but Warren wondered if any of them had wandered off in the middle of the night. Their numbers were once again thinning.
Warren climbed the uneven steps he’d cut into the wall. Although the zombies could dig, he hadn’t been able to get the concept of steps across to them.