by Mel Odom
On the tube platform, she gazed at the area where the Templar had worked. She’d gathered from their conversation that the stakes and electronics they’d driven into the ground were some kind of demon deterrent, but she had no idea what it was.
Kneeling, she opened the command console that one of the Templar had used. She captured images with the ocular over her right eye and stored them on the gel-drive hidden in the subcutaneous tissue of her left thigh. As she worked, she told herself that the guilt she felt was misplaced. She had a duty to her organization. Those men and women had given their life’s blood to keep London safe for a long time before the Templar admitted they even existed, in the show of force at St. Paul’s.
Her comm-link chirped for attention.
Leah straightened as she answered.
“Black Orchid, this is Nightingale. Do you copy?”
“Black Orchid copies.” Nightingale was Lyra Darius. Leah had contacted the woman as soon as she’d left the Templar redoubt.
“Do you know what this device is that we’re looking at?”
“No.” Frustration chafed at Leah. “If I’d known, I would have told you earlier.” She took a deep breath. “Did you get anything from the audibles I captured?” She’d aimed a shotgun microphone concealed in a fingertip at the Templar in hopes of picking up conversation.
“We didn’t. Their helmets and suits didn’t broadcast any of their conversations. If you can, stay on-site there and see if you can get any more information.”
“I will. But that’s increasing the risk here.”
“I doubt that the young lord would do much to you even if he did find you out. I get the impression that he’s quite taken with you.”
Under the armored faceplate, Leah’s face reddened. “I think you’re reading more into it than what is there.”
“We’ll see. Have a care down there, Black Orchid. We want you to come back to us.”
“I will.” Leah closed the case and stood. She switched her view in her ocular through the visible light spectrum. For a few seconds, she thought she could make out the cube of light being projected.
Heart at the back of her throat, Leah stepped forward. Her suit’s sensors picked up vague traces of the laser light, but not enough to set off any alarms. According to the seismograph built into her armor, there were sonics involved as well.
She studied the configuration of the cube, but it offered no clue as to what she dealt with. A moment later, her sensors picked up the sound of demons growling down the tube in the direction the Templar had gone.
She freed her rifle and almost ran down the tunnel. Then she realized the demonic baying and wild screams came closer. They raced back up the tunnel.
Outrunning the Stalkers wasn’t always possible. The demons were incredibly fast. Not only that, they could also run along the sides of the tunnel as well as the ceiling, evading the tumbled-down wreckage. The Templar had to negotiate the overturned train cars and debris that had choked the tunnel.
“I hate running from these things,” Nathan growled, then cursed as he stumbled over loose rock and went down. He caught himself on his off-hand and pushed himself back up. By that time, though, one of the Stalkers had launched itself from the ceiling. The Stalker sailed toward Nathan like an arrow.
After a quick twist to set himself, Simon said, “Boot anchors.” He felt them chug into the stone floor as he shoved his shield out to protect Nathan’s back. The Stalker smashed into the shield, rolled away, and yelped in displeasure.
Another Stalker sprang from the wall on the left and slammed into Simon with enough force to rip his left boot anchor free of the concrete. Unable to bring his sword into play with the demon in his face, Simon smashed his doubled fist into the Stalker’s open and slavering maw. Teeth shattered under the impact. Nearly unconscious, the demon staggered away.
The Stalkers hurled themselves at Simon then, giving him no quarter as they swarmed him. Buried by sheer numbers, he went down. The suit’s AI warned him about the diminished defenses.
Nathan, Quincy, and Danielle stepped in and hammered the Stalkers back with their swords. They used their shields to hold back other Stalkers. When there was a break in the attack, the Templar turned as one and fled back up the tunnel.
“You better hope that Node works,” Danielle said. “If it doesn’t we’re going to have a long fight on our hands.”
“I know.” Simon ran, eyes forward as he used the suit’s 360-degree view to spot an attacking Stalker leaping from overhead. Pivoting slightly, he slammed the sword hilt against the demon’s brow. Bone gave way with a loud crack! The Stalker dropped to the ground and lay twitching.
The tunnel turned gently to the right. A quick check of the map inside his helmet showed that they were only seventeen yards from the Node. Even with the amplified night vision possible due to the helmet, he barely made out the environment.
As he ran through the first side of the cube, Simon experienced a brief thrill of fear. He caught himself holding his breath, expecting the worst. Then he was through. The Stalkers were on his heels, only inches back.
The demons reached the protective Node less than a second after he crossed the threshold. With the 360-degree view, Simon watched as the first eight or nine Stalkers passed through the invisible wall.
Bright purple sparks suddenly flared to life and ignited into deep lavender conflagrations that consumed the demons. Stalkers that had thrown themselves hard enough to penetrate the wall completely also turned to ash completely. Other Stalkers that didn’t quite make the distance found themselves only partially incinerated, but since the part that was harmed was generally the head, they died on the spot. A few Stalkers got knocked into the protected area by the demons behind them.
“Bloody brill!” Nathan exclaimed. He stood nearby with his sword and shield raised, obviously not trusting the barrier to stop all the Stalkers. “I didn’t expect it to work as well as all that!”
Simon silently agreed.
The surviving Stalkers drew back and growled in confusion and fear. A couple pawed at the barrier and succeeded only in amputating part or all of a paw.
“What about the power source?” Simon asked. With the rate that the field had disposed of demons, it had to have expended a lot of energy.
“The power levels dipped for a moment,” Quincy said. “But they came back up. Macomber and Brewer said the field should feed on the inherent arcane energy of the demons it destroys. It’s a self-contained system.”
“Power supply isn’t as big a problem as you thought we’d have, is it?” Danielle asked.
“No,” Simon answered.
“You can’t get much better than self-perpetuating.”
“I know.” The redoubt didn’t need any more stress on their meager resources. As necessary as the protective field was, powering a huge drain might have come close to breaking the fragile balance they kept. No only that, but supplying that protective field also meant it would be vulnerable to attack.
On the other side of the barrier, the Stalkers paced restlessly. They barked and yelped, and Simon trusted the barrier.
“If Macomber and Brewer can figure out how to enlarge the field, we’ll be able to protect the redoubt,” Nathan said.
“They’ll get it,” Simon said. “It’s just a matter of time.” For the first time since the invasion began, he felt real hope about the outcome of things.
THIRTY-ONE
L eah waited until Simon and the Templar were gone, then she crossed the tube platform and dropped into the tunnel. The patches that had sealed the devices into the ground hadn’t quite assumed the same temperature of the floor around them. They were visible in her thermographic vision.
She slipped the combat fighting knife from her right shin and knelt down. Hesitation held her up for a moment.
“Black Orchid,” Lyra Darius said. “Are you experiencing difficulties?”
Yes, Leah wanted to answer. Simon trusted me.
Except in this, she told
herself. And this is something that could change the face of this war.
“Black Orchid, do you copy?”
“Black Orchid copies,” Leah responded. “I’m worried I’m going to damage the device.”
“If you’re not certain of your abilities, I can get an extraction team there.”
The only drawback to that was the fact that the Templar could return for the devices at any time, or that the devices might be uncovered by demons. Some of the demons were quite ingenious.
“No,” Leah said. “If these are to be gotten, now is the time.” She drove the knife blade into the patch and worked carefully. As she unearthed the device, she set her ocular to capture images automatically and send them to the base.
After she finished the first one, she moved to the second. However, she noticed a still, silent form standing in the shadows near the tube platform doorway. Recognizing the blue and silver armor, she knew exactly who it was. Ashamed and angry at the same time, she turned to look at Simon Cross.
“Do you need help?” he asked in a quiet voice.
Leah stood, but she didn’t know what to say. “I thought you’d gone.”
He stood with his arms crossed. “I knew you were here. Somewhere. I figured if it looked like we left that you’d show up.”
“How did you know?”
“I was told you’d escaped the redoubt.”
“‘Escaped’ implies that I was a prisoner. You told me that I was free to come and go.”
“You were. That’s why no one there tried to stop you from leaving. You chose to ‘escape’ when you slipped away instead of merely informing anyone you were leaving.”
Leah felt foolish. “I was seen?”
“Yes.”
“Black Orchid, do you need help?” Lyra asked.
A movement of Leah’s chin muted the outside broadcast so she was heard only inside her armored mask. “No. By the time anyone could get here, this will have played out.” She didn’t want a confrontation between the Agency and the Templar. Things were bad enough. “Let me handle this.”
“We’re closer than you might think.”
That angered Leah. Not only had she been following Simon, but evidently Lyra Darius had assigned others to follow the Templar—or her—as well.
“Hold them back,” Leah directed. “Give me some time to work on this.”
“Are we going to have company?” Simon didn’t appear worried about the prospect. Of course, that was only through reading his body language. Leah couldn’t see a bloody thing through the helmet’s faceshield.
“No,” Leah answered. “But they aren’t far away.”
“So the offer to help me gain influence among the other Templar was…what? A subterfuge?”
“No. It’s real.”
“I see.” His cold, impersonal response hurt her.
Leah hated talking to him this way. The masks they wore disguised everything about them. They shielded every human emotion as well as their appearance, and the device-modulated voices they projected were as cold as ice.
“There’s just not a lot of trust on your part,” he continued.
It’s not me, Leah wanted to tell him. It’s the Agency. It’s just the way I work.
“That trust seems to have broken down both ways, Lord Cross.” Leah held the device out in her hand.
“Don’t,” Lyra admonished. “He could destroy that.”
Leah didn’t worry about that. If Simon hadn’t wanted her to have the device, he would have destroyed it before now. Or at least tried to. She wasn’t going to discount her own ability to get away.
“What are you talking about?” Simon asked.
“You didn’t tell me about this.”
“Until today, there wasn’t anything to tell.”
“You have a means of destroying the demons with relative ease.”
“We have a means of defending against them. This Node—this field—isn’t portable. Once it’s set into place, it has to remain there.”
“It’s an advantage that you kept from us.”
For a moment Simon didn’t speak. His faceplate remained blank and unyielding. “It didn’t become an advantage till it worked a few minutes ago. Until that time, it was just a hope.”
“This changes things. A lot.”
“In areas, perhaps. But this defense is only a last resort. If we use it—if we’re forced to use it—that means the demons have found us. We can wall ourselves away from them, but they can still lay siege to wherever we’ve holed up. You’ve seen for yourself how desperate we’ve already become. And that’s with our being able to hunt on a regular basis. Can you imagine what it would be like if we couldn’t take deer? Or scavenge for food in the city?”
Leah could. While she’d been in the redoubt, she had imagined that. Simon had taken on a Herculean task in providing for his community of survivors.
“And I didn’t keep this from you,” Simon went on. “I’m quite certain that the copy of the Goetia manuscript you gave me wasn’t the only copy that was made. Especially not after seeing you in action.”
The loathing in his voice came through in his words despite the mechanical quality of the suit’s speakers. His accusation—especially in light of the truth of it—cut deeply. The Agency wasn’t a trusting lot.
“You had access to as much information as I had,” Simon said.
“No,” Leah said coldly. “You have all the Templar knowledge that’s been gathered for hundreds of years.”
“We paid for that knowledge. The Order was attacked, turned on by its friends, saw its fortunes stripped from those to whom it belonged, and it was forced underground.”
“You could have come forward.”
“And told the world that demons really existed? I didn’t believe they existed, remember? I left the Order. I left my father. I left everything I knew here because I didn’t believe.” Simon paused. “No one wanted to hear about demons. Not until they were among us.”
“You have Macomber. He’s been helping you translate the Goetia manuscript.”
“Yes. But only because I’ve got someone else who supplements what Macomber doesn’t know. If your…organization had kept Macomber, which they decided not to do, they wouldn’t have been able to do what we’ve done.”
“I know that. The people I work with know that. But you can’t expect us not to try to fight back. Whatever advantage you’ve gained—”
“Is yours,” Simon interrupted. He flicked a hand and a small rectangular computer disk case sailed across the distance.
Leah easily plucked the case from the air and looked at it. The case contained a nanospring microdot computer drive. It was red as a drop of blood and no larger or thicker than her fingernail.
“That contains everything we’ve discovered from the Goetia manuscript,” Simon said. “It also includes the instructions on how to make the Node fields. At least, what we’ve managed to figure out about them so far.”
“Do you believe him?” Lyra asked.
“Don’t you?” Leah asked her.
After only a brief hesitation, Lyra answered, “Yes, I do.”
Pride surged inside Leah. Simon Cross was exactly what he presented himself to be: a knight willing to sacrifice his life so that others could live. Leah’s training ran counterpoint to that. She was supposed to sacrifice others, let them die for their countries or beliefs.
“What you’ve seen in the tunnel there?” Simon asked. “That’s as large as we’ve been able to make the fields up to now. Macomber and the others are still working on the problem of enlarging it, but they’ve not reached a solution yet. When—and if—they find one, I’ll let you know.”
Leah remembered the harsh words the woman at the redoubt had given her. “Your generosity is surprising, Simon, but I know not all Templar feel the way you do.”
“They don’t like trusting people.”
“They would have kept the secret of the Nodes to themselves.”
“Yes. But that decision isn�
��t completely theirs. It’s mine. And I persuaded them to see that knowledge of the Nodes benefits all of us. The more others fight back against the demons, the longer we’ll last. In the end, they saw that.”
Leah closed her hands around the disk and wished she didn’t feel so miserable. But part of that was Simon’s fault. A large part of it. She held him accountable.
“You could have brought me with you today,” she told him. She knew her voice was cold with accusation.
“Another choice I made.”
“You tried to keep this from me.”
“I wanted to keep you out of harm’s way,” Simon said. “I knew this was going to be a bloody bit of business.”
That’s something you would do, she thought angrily.
“If the field failed, it wouldn’t have mattered,” Simon said. “I saw no reason to get your hopes up. That’s why we haven’t told anyone else at the redoubt. And we won’t until we find a way to increase the Node’s parameters. Having a protective field over a couple dozen people isn’t going to help enough.”
She chose not to argue that.
“You’re welcome to the research,” Simon said. “I’d ask that if your people find a way to enlarge the parameters that they tell us.”
Leah wanted to answer but knew she couldn’t.
“Tell him yes,” Lyra said.
“Am I lying to him?” Leah asked. Are you lying to me?
“No. It’s the truth. I swear it.”
Leah knew the promise didn’t mean anything. Lying was one of the primary skills among agents. But she wanted to tell Simon.
“If we find anything,” Leah said, “you’ll be informed.”
Simon nodded. “Thank you for that.” He let the uncomfortable silence drag between them for a moment longer. “Given the circumstances, especially in light of the fact that most people in the redoubt know you ‘escaped,’ it might be better if you stayed away for a while.”