Allie's War Season Four

by JC Andrijeski

  Revik had never been stupid enough to trust him for that reason, but he hadn’t been able to hide all aspects of his life from someone so close to his personal affairs, either. Eddard oversaw his household, made travel arrangements for him, dressed Revik for formal engagements with the Department of Defense, dealt with his laundry, bought him clothes and toiletries, picked up his dry cleaning, cooked for him, arranged cars for him, brought him primary source books and data cards he needed for research or lectures...among other things.

  He’d been good at his job.

  Discreet, at least on the surface, efficient, detail-oriented, unerringly polite. Revik included Eddard in the less important details of his life as a means of feeding intel to the Brits, including details of his somewhat spotty sex life at the time, which he knew would fascinate those who kept an eye on him while also providing a form of distraction from anything about his life they might perceive as more ‘political.’

  Mainly, he hadn’t wanted them finding out anything about Allie, or his secondary job in keeping an eye on her. He’d used Eddard pretty liberally to that effect, mainly by asking his servant to hire him the occasional prostitute...as well as by making sure Eddard overheard the far less occasional sex work Revik took upon himself for extra cash. He let Eddard listen in on a number of negotiations with potential clients, including more than one in actual diplomatic functions, some with married humans...and a number with prominent businesspeople who frequented the same fetish clubs Revik did in downtown London.

  Revik knew with humans, sex was a decent distraction. Really, better than most.

  And they would all assume he was a pervert anyway, given what he was. They’d likely have wondered a lot more if he wasn’t doing that kind of thing on a semi-regular basis.

  But yeah, other than that, Revik hadn’t really given Eddard much thought.

  It was strange to even think of those years, given what had happened since. Eddard hadn’t even made a particularly impressive human, from what Revik could remember...much less had he shown signs of being some kind of seer adept. Revik found the thought disturbing, that he could have been fooled so completely, and by someone he’d believed himself to be using for his own purposes within the British intelligence community.

  Now, though, looking at that familiar face, it struck Revik as somehow overly quintessentially human. He found himself measuring what he could see in those muddy eyes, and in the chinless jaw below a somewhat loose-looking mouth that broke into a smile when they made eye-contact. Revik found himself wondering just how much of what he could see in the middle-aged man had been constructed as illusion, too.

  In any case, it forced an involuntary shudder out of his body, the idea that Menlim might have been spying on him all of those years.

  The man, Eddard, didn’t feel like a seer to Revik, even now.

  Then again, he didn’t feel particularly human to him anymore, either.

  Looking away from Eddard’s face, Revik glanced at Jon, then at Wreg. Jon’s eyes focused unmistakably on Cass. Wreg, on the other hand, stared at Menlim. Both of them looked slightly off-balance, enough that Revik flicked at them with his light.

  Hey, he sent, not caring if they were overheard. Focus.

  Jon jumped a little, looking over at him. Wreg gave him a glance, too. His muscular shoulders relaxed slightly after he met Revik’s gaze.

  Once he felt he more or less had the two of them back on their game, Revik looked back at Menlim. It occurred to Revik that the old seer still had an inch or two on him, even now. He glanced at Salinse then, who stood almost as tall as his blood-cousin, Menlim.

  Feeling his muscles tighten, Revik stripped his mind of thoughts, of as much emotional reaction as he could. It was too late for any of that now. He knew why he was here, whatever he told himself. He’d lowered his gun, and saw Jon, Wreg and even Jorag lower theirs, too. Even so, Revik felt like he’d walked into some kind of Old West standoff, like the moments before the gunfight at the OK Corral.

  “What do you want?” he asked Menlim, blunt.

  The seer smiled.

  That smile made some part of Revik recoil. He found himself fighting past the more visceral reaction he had to seeing his ex-guardian in the flesh, even as he tried to see him, to hear his words past the aleimic interference he could feel, even from five meters away.

  “You came to me, nephew,” the other said, his voice chilling in its familiarity. “I would ask you the same question.”

  “Would you?” Revik retorted.

  He stared down the line of seers standing there, feeling his jaw harden. He glanced at Jon, maybe just to ground himself, to remind himself that this was real, whether or not the people standing in front of him were. Revik’s eyes shifted back to Menlim after he exchanged a look with Jon, then with Wreg. He gripped the handle of the gun in its holster.

  “I’ll say this once,” Revik said. “Give me my daughter.”

  Menlim smiled again. Clicking softly, he held out his hands in a kind of graceful apology.

  “As you can see, nephew, she is not here,” he said. “Now why don’t you tell me why you’ve really come?”

  Revik stared at him, feeling his jaw harden more.

  “You and your...” Revik fought with his voice, even as he used his free hand, meaning the one not resting on the butt of his gun in its holster, to gesture at Cass and Terian, using sharp flicks of his fingers. “...Apprentices. Lackeys. You’ve gone out of your way to bring me here.”

  “And here you are,” the other man said, that smile back on his lips. “...I must say, it is very good to see you, Nenzi.”

  Revik found himself avoiding meeting that gaze directly.

  “What do you want, Nenzi?” Menlim asked again. He folded long, white hands in front of the even whiter shirt, his voice patient, his expression solemn. “I believe this conversation would go easier for all concerned if you simply spelled out your wishes.”

  Revik felt his lip curl in a kind of disbelieving smile.

  “You cannot use your telekinesis in here,” Menlim warned him softly. “You must know that, nephew. You must know that you cannot win this fight...not that way.”

  Glancing around at the seers with him, then around the room, Revik felt that humorless smile linger on his lips for some reason. He couldn’t see much in here, it was true.

  He could feel other presences, though. He could feel the machinations of the construct. He could feel that the room came equipped with gas, and that other things lived in the walls and floors, too...electronic pulses in the tiles beneath his feet, maybe not enough to get through the soles of his organic boots, not enough to knock him out, but maybe enough to hurt like hell.

  He could see all of these different things, and their purpose: both in terms of function and intimidation.

  He knew they wanted him to use the telekinesis, despite his uncle’s words.

  The targets spread around him like stars rotating around the center of their small galaxy, sparkling at him...tugging at his light. As he looked at them, Revik felt a kind of humor twist his mouth for real.

  Fuck it. What did he have to lose?

  He moved almost before the thought completed itself in his mind. Unholstering his gun, he raised it in a single fluid movement, aiming it at Menlim’s head.

  “What makes you think I need the telekinesis?” he said.

  The seers on either side of him raised their weapons as well, aiming at the half-circle of seers standing in front of them. Revik saw movement in his peripheral vision and glanced to his right, seeing guards appear by two different entrances to the hall. Revik counted at least a dozen, all holding rifles, not unlike the rifles Neela and Chinja now wielded. He flicked at their lights, showing them to his own people, and got returning pings.

  Just then, Loki and his team burst through one of the side entrances, too, a different one than Shadow’s guards.

  “Boss!” Loki called out. “Is that you?” He sounded openly relieved.

  “Stay w
here you are!” Revik said, holding up a hand. “Cover the guards along the wall...don’t let any of them get a bead on one of us.”

  “Yes, sir,” Loki replied at once.

  “They might not be real,” Wreg reminded him quietly. “Loki. The others.”

  Revik didn’t look over, but nodded, once.

  Despite the Chinese seer’s words, he could feel smiles being exchanged between their second team and the seers in his own group, meaning Jon, Maygar, Chinja, Neela, Jorag and Jax. He could feel from their smaller construct that Loki hadn’t lost anyone yet––well, assuming they were the real seers and not another projection. Somehow, even with Wreg’s warning in mind, that one small fact brought a sliver of optimism to Revik’s mind.

  He didn’t lower the gun from where he held it on Menlim, however.

  “Well?” Revik prompted him.

  “This is a bit crude, isn’t it nephew?” Menlim said.

  “I would have said direct,” Revik said. “...But sure. Whatever.”

  Menlim smiled. “You do really sound like her, you know. Your wife.”

  Revik felt his jaw harden to granite. “Give me my fucking kid. Now.”

  “No, I mean it,” Menlim said, his voice melodious, holding an open affection as he smiled warmly at Revik, then around at the other seers in their group. “...Did you really think you were the only one who watched her over the years, nephew? Did you really think I would only have people watching you, and not your future mate?” He motioned briefly towards Eddard before looking back to meet Revik’s gaze directly. “I must say, it was quite touching, to see the two of you together, after all this time. Quite touching. And very long overdue...”

  When Revik only stared at him, Menlim once more held up his hands in a type of supplication.

  “Tell us, nephew,” Menlim said, his voice warm, sympathetic. “Let us help you, my son. This cannot all be about the child, as much as she probably means to you. You already know you will not be alive to raise this child yourself. It cannot all be about revenge either, no matter how justified or angry you might feel about what’s happened to you over the years...” Menlim paused, his yellow eyes boring into Revik’s face. “What is it you really want from us, nephew?” he said. “Do you even know?”

  Revik gave him a disbelieving look.

  Then, feeling his jaw harden more, he found himself squeezing the gun.

  He fired, before a single thought crossed his mind.

  A red and black hole appeared in the middle of his ex-guardian’s forehead. The tall, skull-faced seer stood there, suspended in space, its body vertical, for a bare breath.

  Then Menlim toppled over to his back.

  He lay there, twitching, as he bled out.

  The others who had been standing in that semi-circle jerked and stepped back almost comically, jumping away from the corpse with shocked gasps. Revik heard a squeal out of one of the women in the group. He saw several of the others blanch, looking from Menlim’s body to Revik with stunned, disbelieving expressions.

  “Any more stupid questions?” Revik growled, looking around at faces. “Or is someone going to bring me my fucking kid?”

  There was a sound around him, and Revik realized that the seer guards by the doors had raised their guns. His own people, including Loki’s group by the far wall, had swiveled their own rifles up, covering them from multiple sides.

  So far, no one but Revik had fired a shot, though.

  Revik glanced around at his people, and realized suddenly, that this really was it. They knew, as well as he did, what had to happen next. Revik didn’t kid himself for a second that it would solve his problem...either the immediate one or the one that brought him here.

  But it was a start.

  Even as he thought it, he fired the Glock again, that time taking out the old woman who had a face like a lizard. He hit her in the heart with the first shot, then shot her a second time in the head, even as she started to fall backwards. She’d raised a hand in that half-second, but instead of fear on her face, Revik had seen only rage, a hatred so deep it flared out of her eyes. She looked at him like she knew him, like she despised him personally, intensely...maybe for years, harboring that hatred and cultivating it like a diseased plant.

  Revik didn’t know her.

  He didn’t much care about her, either.

  He aimed his gun at the next seer in line, a female who looked to be around Balidor’s age, so maybe five hundred years old, give or take. Dark brown hair hung to her shoulders. She still looked to be in decent shape, with an attractive face. Her skin tone and features would have tagged her as Middle Eastern, if she had been human, and she had both the clothes and the aleimi Revik associated with a successful business person.

  She saw Revik looking at her and let out a terrified, half-pleading scream. She flinched back from the gun he held, holding up a hand, a look of blank, shocked horror on her face.

  “Stop him!” she cried out, looking at the others who stood beside her. “You said he would be reasonable about this! That he wouldn’t risk the child!”

  “Guess we were wrong,” Terian murmured. “...Oops.”

  Revik turned, and caught Terian smiling at him faintly, one eyebrow cocked.

  “Negotiate with him, damn it!” the woman snapped. “Offer him something!”

  “Like what?” Terian said.

  “Anything! You know him! Talk to him, damn it!”

  “Talk to him? About what, precisely, madam?” Terian’s voice came out lazy, almost bored. “You took his kid. You killed his wife. Does he look particularly amenable to a bribe right now, love? Or were you thinking I’d just throw myself in front of the bullet for you?”

  “Give him his damned kid!” she snapped.

  “What makes you think we can do that?” the male seer next to her muttered.

  Revik shot him next.

  He deliberately only got the man in the gut, not killing him outright. Illusions or not, maybe it would motivate the rest of them...or the screamer, at least. Maybe she would be able to reason with the others if he left her alive longer.

  Maybe, maybe, maybe.

  Revik clicked softly under his own breath, feeling his throat tighten when he felt another whisper of Allie’s light. He forced it away, pressing his lips together as he looked from face to face, wondering if any of this would yield a damned thing.

  The man who’d stood next to the Middle Eastern seer in the expensive suit––an older-looking white male, so another seer with unusual skin coloring and features, and also in an expensive suit––now lay on the stone floor, groaning, gripping his bleeding abdomen.

  “Gods...” he cried out in English. “Gods...help me! He’s killed me...”

  Revik turned the gun back on the female seer with the brown hair.

  “I’ve asked twice,” he said. “Are you really going to make me ask again? Or should I just shoot all of you now? Save myself the irritation?”

  “Are you sure that’s such a good idea, Revi’?” Terian said.

  “It’s not seeming like a bad one, Terry,” Revik returned without a beat, still looking at the woman. “Why? Do you have a suggestion for me, buddy?”

  “Don’t you need us, Revi’?” Terian said.

  “Are you negotiating with me, Terry?” Revik said, smiling humorlessly. “Really?”

  “Perhaps just pointing out the facts,” Terian said.

  “I think you had it right the first time on that, Terry,” Revik said, still aiming the gun at the woman’s face. “Maybe it’s better if you keep your mouth shut...”

  “I’m not negotiating, Revi’,” Terian said. “Merely reminding you of why you’re here. You need us, don’t you? And you really don’t know which of us is real down here, and which an avatar...do you? Isn’t it a bit risky, if you actually shoot all of us?”

  Revik turned his head, staring at him. Terian had raised his hands in the universal sign of surrender, but his expression still looked more impatient than angry.

&n
bsp; “...To find her?” Terian added, gesturing vaguely with one raised hand, as if that part wasn’t clear. “Don’t you need us to find her, Revi’? Your daughter?”

  Revik gave a disbelieving laugh.

  “No,” he said. “I really don’t, Terry.”

  Without changing expression, Revik turned to Maygar, who now stood on his other side, as well as Chinja, who stood behind Maygar. He looked to his right then, to Jon, Wreg and Jorag, and Jax just on the other side of them. He paused just long enough to glance around at their faces, to see how their expressions had transformed since all of this had begun. Revik could see their hardened eyes, tightened jaws, thin lips, the anger on their faces. He didn’t know if his own light was affecting them––meaning his sudden refusal to play along with whatever mind game this was––or if something else had changed the overall feeling of their small construct.

  He supposed it didn’t matter, really.

  He found himself smiling humorlessly as he reached the last of their expressions, right before he holstered the modified Glock.

  “I’m tired of this bullshit,” he said, his voice toneless. “Take them out. Every last fucking one. If we get even one of them, it’s worth it.”

  Scarcely a breath of silence followed his words.

  Then gunshots erupted inside the high-ceilinged room.

  Revik just stood there, his hand resting on the butt of his gun, as Wreg, Jon, Chinja, Neela, Jorag, Maygar and Jax shot down every seer that stood in that half-circle facing them.

  The other group, led by Loki, began taking out the guards from the perimeter of the room, firing less often, but likely with significantly more accuracy, since those guards appeared to be firing back at them.

  Revik and his immediate group stood mostly protected by that semi-circle of seers, as well as the stone columns dotting the center of the room. Even so, Wreg and Jon, along with Neela, moved Revik himself behind one of those columns as they covered him on both sides, and as they began aiming their guns at the guards at the edges of the room, having finished with the half-moon of their accusers.