“It would’ve been far more elegant, not to mention more entertaining, to take him alive,” he said dryly. “As I ordered, and so that information not be lost.”
“I’m sorry not to fulfill your order, sire,” Adrian said politely. “But I was concerned that he might flee in nightwalking form if I hesitated even an instant.”
“Ah, yes,” the Lord of the Council said. “That odd hesitation to lose the body of flesh, as if the garment mattered.”
He straightened and spoke to carry: “I sense from the dying mind the chaos of death. The aetheric form born of this body is no more; there has been a Final Death.”
Adrian moved aside, and flicked a kick at the nose of a leopard that was sniffing at Eric Salvador’s form. He went to one knee and pulled the man’s arm over his shoulder, bracing himself to help lift the solid muscular weight.
“Armor stopped it,” the New Mexican wheezed. “Hurts like fuck, though.”
As he spoke the horde of Shadowspawn in their varied forms parted for the great thirty-foot, four-ton bulk of the saltwater crocodile to flow endlessly forward, half submerged. There was a surge that sent the dark water curling up the sides of the sewer, and the cavern jaws closed on the body. A flick of the great sculling tail sent droplets spattering and the reptile vanished into the darkness with its prey.
“Just keep walking, Monica,” Adrienne said.
She did, struggling to control her breathing. For one moment and one long cold considering look like a strip of ice laid on the inside of her breastbone she’d thought that the Doña was going to leave her there in the ongoing riot. Most of the crowd in the church…sort of a church, and her mind stuttered as it refused to process images…had bolted out after the fleeing Dale Shadowblade. Many of the rest were either cringing back against the walls, walking out through the walls, or arguing with each other. A few had collapsed to the ground and were hugging themselves and shivering; those would be the lucies and pets.
I know how they feel, Monica thought.
She felt another rush of liquid-loose-in-the-lower-belly fear too as Adrienne halted near her brother’s pew. The folk there tensed, and their hands went to weapons—all except the children, whose faces blossomed with smiles.
“’Allo, Maman,” Leila said, waving. “Have you come to take us back? ’Allo, Monica! Tell Josh and Sophia ’allo from us!”
“We have been having a lot of fun, but we miss you,” Leon added. “And the dog. Papa is busy a lot of the time.”
“Not yet, my darling little weasels,” she said. “I’ve just come to pick up something for a friend.”
Her hand darted out in a blur of speed, latched onto Kai’s collar and wrenched her out from where she cowered on the floor between pews, casting the slight form into the aisle in front of them with a casual and astonishing display of strength. She dodged Ellen’s knife with almost contemptuous ease.
The young woman landed with a thump and then an ooof! of expelled breath. Peter made an abortive lunge, but Cheba pulled him back. She had a little gun in her hand, the silvered barrels glinting between her fingers.
“No!” she said sharply. “Guard los niños!”
“Excellent tactics, my little chocolate drop of delight,” Adrienne chuckled. “I’ll be seeing much more of you later, and you too, my svelte blond boy toy.”
She blew Cheba a mocking air kiss, twiddled her fingers at Peter, then turned and kicked Kai with vicious precision just as she started to get up. Monica winced a little in sympathy; she knew exactly how that felt, especially when it took you by surprise rather than as part of a scenario.
And this was far too chaotic for play. Even with most of the crowd gone, the church still resounded with snarls, howls and shrieks of pain interspersed with babbling and pleading. Some of the Shadowspawn were fighting, or just attacking in reflex, with instant hungry malice; Monica averted her eyes from some of the things going on in the pews and on the floor. That could’ve been her. They walked quickly, Adrienne leading and pushing Kai ahead of her in an agonizing arm lock.
A few cold-eyed renfields looked at her, then flicked their eyes aside. They’d be the ones in charge of guarding their masters’ possessions. One yellow-eyed nightwalker with a black silk top hat gave a snarling hiss and reached for Monica. Adrienne pivoted on one heel and thrust out her free fist, the little finger extended. She spat something in Mhabrogast and dark light seemed to explode behind Monica’s eyes. When it cleared the elegant Edwardian clothes lay vacant across the marble and polished wood, and a rat scuttled for the walls.
Adrienne snickered and gestured, and the rat gave a despairing squeal as its fur caught on fire. Flame and the hard stench of burning hair all vanished as it plunged into the stone of the wall, leaving a blackened spot on the plaster.
“Don’t run, Monica. It’s undignified, and also it is so stimulating. Later, and not in public.”
She forced herself not to dash; Adrienne was already bright-eyed in a way that told how true her words were, and the last thing she wanted to do was start a stampede in her direction. Then they were outside in the chill damp. A car pulled up, but not the one they had arrived in. It was a Mercedes S600 limousine, looming in the narrow street like a sleek black yacht. The driver popped out and held the rear-opening door open; he was dressed in something halfway between a chauffeur’s outfit and a ninja costume, smiling very slightly beneath the mirrorshade glasses that she knew were also night goggles. It was David Cheung, one of Adrienne’s renfields Monica liked even less than she did most of them, but an inexpressible relief now. So was the light machine pistol in his right hand, and the way he scanned the ground behind them.
Monica abandoned her brisk stride and dove, tumbling into the back compartment in a headfirst plunge that might have hurt if the interior hadn’t been so luxuriously padded, panting in sheer relief. Adrienne threw Kai in and swung in after, seating herself with her usual slinking grace. She kicked off one shoe and pressed the foot between Monica’s shoulder blades, pushing her into the thousand-knot Turfan carpet that covered the limousine’s floor as the door swung shut with an almost inaudible but very solid chunking sound.
“Just relax down there for now, chérie,” she said. “I need the room up here to deal with our guest, and it will be a little while before your talents are called for.”
Kai scrambled away and crouched against the opposite door, her eyes huge and her hand fumbling with the lock despite the obvious futility of it. The limousine didn’t have anything as plebeian as seats; the rear was a U-shaped set of couches upholstered in buttery off-white kidskin, like the fantail of a yacht, with a scattering of throw-pillows.
“Dale won’t let you kill me,” she said, her voice a thin reedy whisper.
“You flatter yourself, little snack,” Adrienne said.
Monica couldn’t see her Shadowspawn from where she lay on the floor, but she knew that steel and velvet tone of voice. It made her shiver, and her skin roughen all over, but that was familiar and welcome in its way.
“But in any case, we need to have a little talk before we consider such ultimate pleasures as your death. Why, we’ve hardly gotten to know each other at all! First, let’s disorganize your mind a bit. It makes dealing with those tiresome Wreakings easier. Hmmm…pain, I think. Lots and lots of pain.”
To the air: “And yes, David, you can watch over the monitor. Am I not the very model of a sensitive and caring employer? But I will be very annoyed if there are any traffic accidents; remember to multitask. I really do wish to be in Istanbul shortly.”
Then she sprang. There was a tumbling thrash of limbs, human cursing and the shrill nocturnis snarl, and then a despairing wail. When the motion ceased, Adrienne had the girl in a feeding lock, one leg behind the small of her back, the other hooked across her knees and both wrists in her left hand. Her right clamped the victim’s jaw and bent it back until the neck was a tight arch.
Monica smiled, relaxing and sighing, propping up her head on one elbow. They were out
of danger, and…
Ooooh, but that looks sexy, she thought, touching her tongue to her upper lip. Really, really hot.
And it made her remember that first terrifying time when she hadn’t known what was going on. She still had bad dreams about it, but most of the time it was as if it had happened to somebody else, that lost housewife from Simi Valley whose car had broken down south of San Luis Obispo. That was before she’d realized what a turn-on fear could be, of course. Her own, that is.
I was so inexperienced and naive then, of course. I still usually don’t like watching this side of things when it’s not me on the receiving end, but I’m going to make an exception for you, Kai.
It was what human beings like them were for, after all, as mice were for cats. And she had never liked Kai, who had always put on airs because she had a small dose of the Power. And Dale Shadowblade was frankly terrifying, but not in a good way like the Doña, and Kai had been his assistant as well as victim. Generally speaking she didn’t find other people’s fear all that stimulating, but the girl was making a lot of fuss about nothing anyway. Probably.
And it feels really sexy too, being held like that, after the first couple of times. Come on, you little bitch, you’re no blood virgin, and it’s better than you deserve.
Adrienne chuckled again and whispered in Kai’s ear, “Did Dale ever tell you that if you’re habituated to a single Shadowspawn’s feeding for a long time and then get bitten by another the pain is almost as intense as the pleasure for a while? This is really going to hurt and then you’ll beg for more.”
“Please, please!”
“Is that please yes, please no, or both…? Name of a dog, but I am vile! Also more of a Californian than I thought—making out in the back seat of the car…Now scream for me, you little minx.”
The tip of her tongue traced the taut skin, and then her head moved with the swift predatory grace of the feeding bite like the final pounce of a cat on a mouse it’d been toying with. Monica winced and stuck her thumbs in her ears at the earsplitting shriek of raw agony; it had to be even louder for the Shadowspawn, and they had such sensitive ears, but Adrienne was smiling as a trickle of blood dripped past her working lips. She really appreciated a good heartfelt scream.
Kai’s body arched in a galvanic spasm, then slumped. Released, her hands went trembling to the Shadowspawn’s shoulders.
“Hurts…don’t stop…hurts…”
After a while Adrienne lifted her mouth, panting a little, with a thread string of blood dangling from one corner until she licked it up.
“Tasty! Now open your mind,” she crooned.
She licked the neck clean—something in the saliva made a feeding bite clot with unnatural speed and guarded against infection—and shifted until she was facing her victim, forehead to forehead. There was a sharp vinegary scent of sweat and fluids as Kai sobbed and clenched arms and legs around Adrienne.
“That’s right, spread wide inside…oh, this is a well-traveled path…tsk, Dale, that’s a clumsy set of Wreakings, undo here…give in, give in, right to the core, that’s right…What’s that? You actually said I wouldn’t touch her twat with a Taser? So naughty, isn’t it, Monica? Mmmm…now, let’s run through what Dale’s done since that little job on the train…”
Having your memories riffled like that set up an intolerable inward itching; it also gave you this suffused feeling of being filled beyond your capacity like tissues just before they tore. Plus it was really humiliating…which could be a lot of fun in an odd fashion once you were used to it and put your mind to cultivating the right attitude.
Like an inner equivalent of the crawling and foot-licking, and that’s really satisfying, she thought. Kai probably is well experienced that way, though this is all rather abrupt.
“Your brother did what to you when you were twelve?” Adrienne laughed. “Oh, my, that’s entertaining—but do let us concentrate on business, don’t just free-associate…”
After a few moments of silence: “Dale must have learned something from Great-uncle Arnaud when he killed him; he definitely seems to have changed his behavior after that. A pity he didn’t tell you what it was that he learned, precisely. Perhaps he soul-captured Arnaud for a really prolonged, enjoyable interrogation internally? Dangerous…but Dale always was excessively non-risk-averse. Vraiment, it is a puzzle…”
Kai flopped backward when the Shadowspawn broke the link, mouth working and tears leaking down her cheeks as she covered her face with her hands. Adrienne rubbed her hands and looked around:
“Now, we do have a Taser here somewhere, do we not? Let us literalize the metaphor! And when we reach the manor we’re stopping at, you can show David some appropriate gratitude, Kai. He is growing quite excited, and it would be cruel to deny him. Travel can be a broadening experience, don’t you agree?”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Turkey
Harvey Ledbetter grunted and stretched as the engine noise stopped and they stepped down into the open stained-concrete expanse of the warehouse.
“The problem here is that we can hide the…package…from the Power but it’s going to be a bit harder to hide it from the fuckin’ Turkish police. Who have prob’ly been put on the QT by the Council’s puppets. And we don’t want to put ourselves in the hospital with Wreakin’ too much to throw them off.”
He didn’t mention the other possibility; either collapsing with a burst brain vessel, or going unpleasantly mad and having to be killed by your friends.
“Adrian got the Brotherhood to drop some hints too,” Farmer said. “He told us that before we went after you. No details, of course.”
A sly grin. “After all, there was a remote possibility you might turn us.”
“Not hard to slip information in as from the CIA or some other nefarious source,” Anjali said judiciously. “Terrorists with nuclear weapons make people nervous, oh yes indeed.”
They walked through the dimness to the front of the building and its magnificent view of a blank brick wall across the street. Bursa was one of the biggest cities in western Turkey. Mt. Uludağ towered over it to the south, and the hills around were forested; that and the parks and gardens around the mosques and palaces had given it the nickname of Green Bursa in the old days. The old days hadn’t included a huge clutch of automobile and textile factories, or the run-down industrial district where they’d parked the bomb.
The corner office had dirty windows. It was also cold and smelled seedy, of ancient tobacco and machine oil and tired electronics and far-from-fresh socks.
For some reason this sort of neighborhood seemed a bit more depressing than the equivalents he’d grown up around, and God knew Texas had depressing in plenty. Even in the Hill Country of his birth where at least the background looked fairly good. Though that had been all right here, too, from what they’d seen coming in. The snow lay thick on the higher pines, and there were ski resorts where Europeans and the newly prosperous Turkish glitterati cavorted. Down here it was mostly just chilly rather than freezing.
They grew olive trees around the town, which meant you never got really cold weather. Not by Jack Farmer’s standards, at least; Harvey and Anjali disagreed. Even the discomfort had a certain instant-nostalgic charm now, though. When you didn’t expect to live much longer…
Well, hell, most of the things I like doing can’t be done when you’re old, and, Harvey, you are old for this job. And you never really were afraid of being dead, right? Afraid of dying, but that’s only logical, as the Science Officer said.
Harvey seated himself in the absent manager’s swivel chair and put his feet up. “Okay, let’s get logical here. We want to be hard to check up on. What’s the easiest sort of marine traffic to check?”
Anjali and Farmer looked at each other. “Anything where there are computerized records,” Farmer said.
“Which means all commercial cargo shipping through regular channels,” Anjali said; computers were easy enough to fix with the Power, but there were so many of them and it
left traces. “I am presuming you went overland for that reason?”
Harvey nodded. “Yeah. Shipping’s a bottleneck. You two got it off that container ship in Europoort-Scheldt easy enough, because nobody with the Power was looking. But there are ways around that. What we need is a purchase, not a charter, and under the table,” he said. “Something just big enough; the god damned thing—”
He avoided saying nuke or bomb most of the time, just basic fieldcraft.
Not being evasive or euphemistic, no sirree, not us.
“—only weighs a couple of tons, anyway. We want it shipped on something you’d look at and not think cargo. Something just big enough to have a hold that’ll conceal it.”
The two agents looked at each other again. “You mean one of those tourist sail-cruising things, what’re they called…” Farmer hesitated.
“Gulets,” Anjali said.
“Yup.” Harvey nodded. “They were mixed cargo boats before they took to ferrying two-ton, two-tone Teutons around to soak up raki and court skin cancer. Now, good old straightforward stealin’s out. Nobody may notice a truck going missing if you’re careful, but a ship, even a little one, that’s a hog of a whole different bristle. We need to show a little more finesse this time.”
“We are experts at finesse,” Anjali said.
“As long as it involves kicking guys in the crotch,” Farmer added. Then: “No! I was kidding!”
“Jack would put on weight if you did that,” Harvey said. “And he’d get too meek and mild to be useful. Okay, you pick a gulet up in Bodrum and meet me in Istanbul.”
“Why there?” Jack said. “It’s out-of-the-way, and it’ll take time.”
“That’s where they make ’em. Not as many ripples.”
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