Freak City

by Saje Williams

  The scene seems so real Jaz has trouble remembering that it isn't. Then she feels the weight of the pistol in the shoulder holster under her jacket and she knows it's not. She hates guns and she'll probably never carry one. Sure, federal agents are supposed to, but she can't imagine doing so.

  "I'm telling you for the last time, asshole, let the kid go."

  He snarls his defiance, draws the blade back. “I'm going to kill him."

  "Go ahead,” she says boldly. “There's a million more where that one came from. But you gotta think—what are you going to do for a shield once you do?"

  He blinks at this, unprepared for her nonchalance. He draws the blade back farther, as if preparing to plunge it into the boy's chest. She reaches out, snags a passing mana thread, and hurls it at his out-stretched arm. Her will converts the energy into a long mono-molecular edge which sheers right through the limb. It falls to the graveled rooftop amidst a great outpouring of blood. The boy staggers toward her, screaming.

  She nudges him aside and charges the maniac, delivering a powerful front kick that sends him staggering back to the edge of the roof. “Say goodbye, motherfucker."

  She reaches down, snatches up the knife, and throws it with uncanny accuracy. As it buries itself in his chest he stumbles a couple more feet and topples from the roof.

  * * * *

  The images faded away and she stood there blinking at Renee. The vampire's face remained impassive, but Jaz could swear she saw a hint of disquiet in the violet depths of her eyes. “Good enough,” she said. “Return to your room."

  The command was phrased so well that Jaz didn't realize she'd fallen under her spell until her fingers were wrapped around her door knob. Neat trick.

  * * * *

  Baraz planted his fist in the heavy bag and watched it swing away from the blow, timing it perfectly so his spinning back kick caught the bag's return and stopped it cold.

  He felt her presence a split second before he felt the blow coming. He slipped away, spinning around the bag and letting it absorb the force of her second punch. She side-stepped, firing a back leg roundhouse kick he didn't even bother to parry.

  He took a long step inside her reach, jammed her foot, and hammered her in the jaw with an upswept elbow. Her teeth clashed and she reeled back, swinging her head rapidly to clear out the fog. “Nice shot,” she grunted.

  He snapped a straight left into her nose and followed up with a short, curving blow to her ribs. She snarled and shot out a left hook he simply ducked and let pass by him. She took a long step back and shook her head. “You really can't help yourself, can you? You should have just let me beat the hell out of you, but you just can't. Is your ego that big?"

  He shrugged, laughing. “Maybe it is."

  "It's a wonder you can fit that damn head of yours through a normal-sized door."

  "Sometimes it surprises me, too."

  Athena rubbed her chin and winced. “Nice elbow shot, Deryk, you bastard."

  He grinned back at her. “I knew you'd figure it out eventually. As soon as you and that damned vampire woman walked into the room, I knew the game was up."

  She raised an eyebrow. “Game? You consider this a game? We thought you were dead."

  "So did I."

  "Well, you're obviously not. What the hell happened to you?"

  He shrugged by tilting one shoulder. “Hades killed me, I guess. Shoved one of his damned crystal swords straight through my chest. The next thing I know I'm lying there in the dark. Alone. My guess is that I was there for three days, deader than a doorknob."

  "And then what—you were suddenly alive again?"

  The man who'd been calling himself Baraz offered up another shrug. “That's the way it happened. Pretty goddam weird, don't you think?"

  "Very. Do you remember anything from those three days?"

  He shook his head. “Nope. Not a thing."

  "Huh. Well, why didn't you contact us then?"

  "I needed a vacation."

  "A vacation. You left us to think you were dead and gone because you needed a vacation?"

  He winced. “No need to yell, Athena."

  "If I thought it would do any good, I'd punch you again."

  He gave her a lopsided grin. “You're getting much better, if it's any consolation."

  She gazed back at him through narrowed eyes. “It's not."

  "Didn't think it would be. I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not sorry and you probably wouldn't believe it even if I was."

  "Mighty perceptive of you.” She glowered at him for a long moment, then shook her head ruefully. “You're an utter bastard, Deryk. You know that, don't you?"

  "Of course,” he said agreeably. “What's your point?"

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “So do you want your goddam company back?"

  "If I did you would've heard from me before now. I think you're doing reasonably well. You've pretty much gained control of the PAC, which is good. I wouldn't want someone like Seymour running it."

  "Yeah, you and me both. So what are you after?"

  "Some peace and quiet would do,” he told her honestly.

  "Well, you've certainly come to the wrong place for that."

  He let out a short, barking laugh. “Freak City."

  It was her turn to shrug. “That's what they're calling it. We've got metas crawling out of the woodwork."

  "And vampires as well, from what I hear."

  She gave him a brief nod. “Vampires, too. Though we have a vampire hunter out there as well. Apparently any vampire that steps over the line ends up dead."

  "Works for me."

  "It would. You never were the ‘law and order’ type."

  "Do you have a better suggestion? How do you propose to hold a vampire over for trial? And offer it constitutional protections without jeopardizing the whole damn case?"

  "What—you think they deserve Constitutional protections? They're dead, Deryk."

  "Which would suggest that killing them isn't exactly murder, is it?"

  "Now that's an argument I don't want to get into at this point in time,” she grumbled. “Fine. I need to talk to Renee. I want to know how Jasmine's evaluation went."

  "Who's stopping you?"

  "You're hopeless,” she snorted. She spun on a heel and walked out.

  Deryk Shea watched her leave with a mildly amused expression. “And you're a pain in the ass."

  * * * *

  Renee drew up a chair and slid in next to Athena at the table. The Amazonian immortal took another bite of the unidentified meat dish in front of her and grimaced. “So ... what's the verdict?"

  The vampire sighed. “The girl worries me, Athena. She killed the target."

  "She killed the kid?"

  Renee frowned. “No, she killed the maniac. After disarming him. Literally."

  "Huh? What do you mean?"

  "She used a mana thread to cut the guy's arm off, then, after the kid was clear, she picked up the knife and threw it into his chest. She killed him after rendering him harmless."

  "Shit.” Athena shook her head. “That's not good."

  "No. Though, in her defense, I'm pretty sure she was aware that it was a simulation."

  "Really?” Athena shot her a sidelong glance. “That's unusual, isn't it?"

  Renee nodded. “Very. She's a very strong-willed young woman. But I have to tell you, she makes me a little nervous."

  "I can tell. Renee, she's probably the most talented young mage we've ever seen. Her imagination is almost boundless. I realize you don't use magic, but you can talk to Loki about what that means. We need her."

  "More talented than Amanda Keening?"

  "What are you trying to say?” Athena asked in a low growl.

  Renee's answering look was pained. “She's talented too, but is she talented enough to deal with that den of snakes by herself?"

  "Do snakes have dens? Or are they burrows? Or something else entirely?"

  Renee blinked at her, apparently stunned by th
is non-sequitur. “Huh?

  "Never mind,” Athena sighed. “We needed someone inside Grey's camp and she was our best bet."

  "Despite the fact that Grey was certain to know she was a plant?"

  "Despite the fact,” Athena muttered. “Why are you changing the subject?"

  "I'm not,” Renee said. “You're the one who brought up how talented the girl is, and how much you need her."

  "And what does that have to do with Amanda?"

  "Three years ago—hell, a year ago—she was the most talented mage in your cadre. But you're willing to sacrifice her for the greater good now. I'm telling you now ... if you let Ms. Tashae stay, if you train her to the best of your abilities, you will regret it."

  "Oh, now you're a seer?"

  The vampire's eyes grew cold. “You're the one who asked for the evaluation. Now you're not going to follow my advice?"

  "I didn't say that."

  "You didn't have to,” Renee answered. “You're broadcasting it like a damn radio station."

  The immortal woman shrugged. “I suppose I am. Okay. She's a bit of a loose cannon, but I think we can keep her under control."

  "You'd better hope so."

  "All I've got is hope right now."

  "Fine. I think it's a mistake, but it's your call. I get the monsters, you get the mages."

  "Amanda gets the mages."

  "If she gets out of her grandfather's place in one piece,” Renee reminded her.

  "I'm operating on that assumption. She can leave any time she wants. I doubt he has the means to keep her there."

  "I'm glad you're so sure, Athena. I'm certain it's a great comfort to you."

  "Sarcasm isn't necessary.” She sighed. “I take it you're worried about her."

  "What was your first clue?"

  "Fine. You go check on her. I'm sure you can slip in and out like the wind."

  "Not a bad idea. Maybe I'll take you up on it.” Renee stood slowly, carefully. “If she's in danger I'll let you know. Maybe it'll convince you to get involved.” Then, that said, the woman simply vanished. Athena glanced around the empty cafeteria while her stomach clenched. She hoped Renee was wrong. On both counts.

  Seventeen

  Gavin Chase watched in disgust as Armageddon slowly shut the door behind him, Amanda's unconscious body clasped tightly to his chest with his other arm. He spun and marched into the library. He went directly to the bar and poured himself a shot of Beam, drinking it down in one quick gulp.

  He slammed the shot glass down and took a deep shuddering breath. This whole situation stank. He knew what they had in mind for the girl and he tottered on the brink of giving in to his impulse to march in there and skin Armageddon alive.

  His wife might be dead, but his son still lived. That's why he put up with this shit. The chance to see his son again, to save him from whatever evil plot Hades was hatching in his black little mind. The real question, he decided, was whether he was willing to sacrifice Amanda to reach that goal.

  A valid question, and one for which he had no answer.

  He felt someone behind him and turned slowly, another shot clutched in his hand. The Abyssian, Dusk, stood in the doorway, her huge black wings drawn around her like a cloak. She ducked through and regarded him silently as she crossed the room and took the shot glass from his hand. She threw it down and handed him back the glass. “I hate bourbon,” she said conversationally. “You're not handling this very well.” One blue-black brow lifted slightly.

  "Should I be?” he asked irritably. “Do you know what they have planned for her?"

  She nodded. “Unfortunately, yeah. Do you think it'll work?"

  "Doesn't matter what I think—the old man does, and that's what's important."

  "It could kill both of them."

  "Yeah. It could. We could stop it, you know."

  "What—just go berserk and break up the party? I don't think Hades would like that very much."

  "Fuck Hades."

  Her nose, sharp as an axe blade, wrinkled. “Thanks, but no thanks. You first."

  "Funny."

  "Oh, I'm laughing my ass off. Can't you tell? I don't know about you, but I'm not ready to piss him off."

  "We're going to have to come down on one side of the line or the other. And we'll have to live with ourselves afterward."

  She nodded absently. “You're right. Doesn't help anything, but you're right."

  "Where do you stand, Dusk? If you weren't so frightened of Hades, what would you do?"

  "I'd stop this whole thing,” she replied without hesitation. “I'd rip Armageddon into so much spare flesh, stomp the old man into a puddle of gore, and take her out of here."

  He winced at the imagery, but smiled nonetheless. “And her brother?"

  "The vampire?” she spat. “He's a vile creature that deserves to be staked out to watch a sunrise."

  "My thoughts exactly,” Chase murmured through a clenched jaw. “And you have no idea how tempted I am to arrange just that surprise for him."

  She gave him a measuring look. “What are you hiding, Chase?"

  He shook his head. “It's not that I don't trust you, Dusk, but—frankly—you're safer not knowing."

  She considered it for a moment, then shrugged. “If that's the way you have to play it. Does this have anything to do with the vampire Hades has squirreled away? The kid—isn't his name Cory?"

  He cocked his head and gave her a quizzical gaze. “A little. Do you know what he's been doing with him?"

  "Making him turn humans into vampires so Hades can set them loose on the street. But someone's been gunning them down before they can cause any real trouble. Do you have anything to do with that?"

  "Me? Hades barely lets me out of his sight."

  "That doesn't answer my question, now does it?"

  He shrugged half-heartedly. “It's about as much of an answer as I'm willing to give."

  She looked down her nose at him and snorted. “Fine. Play it that way if you want.” She ruffled her wings and ducked back out the door.

  "Well, that's one potential ally,” he muttered to himself. “But can I trust her?"

  Putting that aside for the moment, he poured himself another shot, drank it down, and slammed the glass on the bar hard enough to leave a dent. Childish, but it made him feel a little better. What he'd really have liked to do was track down Thomas Grey and wring his scrawny, wrinkled neck.

  Or bust into the bedroom and blast Armageddon through the nearest wall.

  But, instead, he'd have another drink and pretend he wasn't absolutely disgusted with himself for standing by and allowing this to continue.

  * * * *

  Jaz woke to the sound of a bellow down the hall. “Turn that thing off!" someone yelled. She opened her eyes, listening to the strains of Stormchild's “Walk the Night” fade into the background of a commercial voiceover. She squeezed one eye open and peered around her. Yes, Quickfingers was gone. Which meant there was a very good chance he was in the HDV room watching music videos. Why Athena had ever introduced him to that damn idiot box she'd never know.

  She rolled up out of bed and shook herself like a dog crawling out of a lake. She padded to the door and threw it open. “Quickfingers!"

  A loud pop from the direction of the HDV room heralded the imp's sudden arrival in front of her door. “Yeah, Boss?"

  "It's the middle of the goddam night,” she growled. “I know you don't need to sleep but the rest of us do."

  "Sorry, Boss."

  She shook her head. “No you're not. If you were you wouldn't be doing it."

  He didn't bother to deny it. “I'm bored."

  "Bored,” she repeated with sigh. She groaned and pressed her hand to her forehead. “What am I gonna do with you?"

  "Feed me?” he asked cheerfully.

  "Oh, no. I've seen you eat. Not only do you make a mess, you're insatiable."

  His ears drooped. “Oh. Well, I could go back to the HDV."

  Shit. He had her there. “Go
turn it off and we'll go down to the kitchen and see what we can rustle up."

  "Great!” He bounced a couple of times, clearing the floor by at least a foot each time, and bounded down the hall.

  They're going to kill me for this, she thought. Especially considering that he didn't need to eat, as far as she could tell. He just liked to. Hard to justify feeding literal tons of food to a creature that didn't even require it to survive.

  Was it even making him larger? She wasn't sure, but it did seem as though he was a little rounder. She heard the HDV switch off and the imp whooshed back in. “Take me to the kitchen,” she told him.

  He grabbed her forearm and teleported to the kitchen. They appeared in the dark between the long stainless steel counters. Unlike most institutional kitchens, the Academy kitchen was set up for gourmet cooking, with a lot of counter space, a huge gas range, and a large two-panel refrigerator/freezer in the same chrome finish as the counters.

  Jaz cast a thread toward the ceiling, mentally forming it into a ball of softly glowing light. “Any preferences?” she asked as she took the three steps across the red marble tile to the refrigerator.

  "Cookies?"

  She sighed. Talk about a junk food junkie. Of course, if he didn't need the nutrients she supposed it didn't matter. If she'd had a cow and a ice cream maker handy, the imp would be in heaven.

  She stood and watched, nibbling on a banana, as Quickfingers shoveled his way through an apple pie, three loaves of raisin bread straight from the freezer, and two half-gallon containers of cookies-n-cream ice cream.

  She watched in disbelief as he started staggering around the kitchen like a drunk after too much T-bird. A bulge appeared suddenly in the middle of his round belly, projecting outward and rolling across his flesh like some unseen serpent sliding beneath his skin.

  She took a long step back. This can't be good. Quickfingers toppled backwards to land splayed on the floor, shuddering violently. The traveling bulge rolled from between the imp's legs and circled his round little belly. Then, with a powerful jerk, something burst through the creature's stomach. A tiny imp, no taller than six inches, placed tiny hands on tiny hips and glared up at her. “What do you want?"

  "Huh?"

  It hopped down from Quickfinger's stomach, which had already began to knit itself together. By the time the baby imp made its way around the room, poking its tiny little nose into everything its progenitor was sitting up and blinking dazedly. “What happened?"