The Awakened World Boxed Set

by William Stacey

  "Then we set her down and walk," Rowan said.

  "It's okay," Tec insisted. "And you'd never make it on foot without supplies. Trust me, Morgan has sway with the Norteno authorities. They won't shoot."

  Rowan glared at him. "Better friggin' not. If they kill us, I'm taking it out on you, Jaguar Knight."

  Despite the threat, Tec smiled, and Angie shook her head. Boys.

  "Strange world," said Casey. "Never thought we'd be placing our lives in the hands of a Norteno witch."

  "She prefers Mago Commandante," Tec said before pressing the transmit button on the microphone. "Brujas HQ, this is the Jaguar Knight, how copy, over?"

  The radio was silent.

  "The Brujas Fantasmas have working radios?" Angie asked.

  Tec nodded, still waiting for a response. "Your Bunker wasn't the only shielded military cache, just one of the best equipped. Albeit the only one with advanced stealth helicopters."

  "Not anymore," said Casey, his face cracking into a wry smile, his eyes revealing his delight. Casey was the type of man who liked setting things on fire. Marshal wasn’t going to be happy.

  First Councilor Duncan Marshal, the man who had been a surrogate father to her after her own parents had died in the Food Wars, was going to be furious about the helicopters. In one day, the Home Guard had lost all its prized helicopters, the entire Seagrave family of super-soldiers, and its commanding officer, Nathan Case.

  Nathan. His death, so recent, was still surreal. Oddly, she felt no guilt for having killed him. Was that because of his role in murdering Char or because Angie was a bad person? And did she really want to pull on that thread?

  Instead, she stared at the silent radio.

  "We're about ten minutes out from Canyon City," Casey said. "We may want to rethink this. This baby is quiet, but it’s not invisible, and it sure as hell ain't bulletproof."

  Angie held her breath, watching as Tec keyed the radio once more. "Brujas HQ, this is Jaguar Knight, come in, over."

  Silence.

  Then the radio chirped, and she almost jumped out of her skin as a female voice cut through the static. "Jaguar Knight, this is Brujas HQ. We hear you loud and clear. Send message, over."

  "Tavi, is that you?" Tec asked.

  "It is," the woman replied. She sounded young, speaking English with a trace of a Hispanic accent. "What is your situation?"

  "I'm coming in hot on the airfield in a captured Shrike with friendlies on board. Hold fire. I say again, hold fire."

  The radio was silent for several long moments. Then: "Jaguar Knight, did you say Shrike, over?"

  "Yes, Tavi. The Commonwealth lent us one of their birds. Please don’t shoot it out of the sky."

  "Send location," Tavi demanded in a curt, businesslike manner.

  "We're coming in north over the San Bernardino National Forest," Rowan said.

  Tec repeated their location into the radio.

  Angie saw the canopy of trees below. As the Home Guard's former Intel officer, she had expert knowledge of the terrain from years of operational mission planning and surveillance. In many ways, she knew the Nortenos’ home better than they did. For years now, there had been speculation Marshal would order a full-scale military push into the disputed oilfields.

  "Send ETA," the woman on the radio ordered.

  "Estimated time of arrival, figures five, over," Tec answered.

  At their current speed, Angie knew, they'd enter the Canyon City defensive zone within four minutes, maybe less—if they weren't shot out of the sky first. If this Tavi didn't get the word out to the Norteno gunners, they'd come under fire the moment they came over the trees. No one else in the region had working helicopters but the Home Guard, longtime rivals of the Nortenos. She had already been shot down in one helicopter and didn't want to relive the experience.

  "Not liking this," Casey mumbled, his lips tight.

  The radio chirped. "Acknowledge your last, Jaguar Knight. Reduce speed to one hundred kilometers per hour and climb to five hundred meters. Come in southwest at a bearing of two hundred degrees and head for the airstrip. Do you acknowledge instructions, over?"

  "I got it," Casey said. "But at that speed, that height … if they wanted to shoot us down, they couldn't arrange a better target."

  "You sure about this, Tec?" Rowan turned in his seat and stared at the other man, his gaze hard and uncompromising.

  Tec nodded. "I trust Tavi."

  Rowan sighed heavily and then turned to Casey. "Do as the nice lady on the radio has asked."

  Tec activated the radio. "We acknowledge the instructions."

  The radio chirped, the hiss broken by the open microphone for several seconds before Tavi spoke again, as if she hesitated to do so. "Tec … the local garrison commander says he'll open fire if you deviate from instructions. Believe him. We're all on edge here. I can't explain."

  "We won't deviate," Tec told her.

  Casey grimaced but reduced speed, climbed in altitude, and changed his direction. "Strange god-damned world," he said as he stared out the cockpit canopy.

  The rest of the flight passed remarkably quickly. Time did that, Angie knew, flashed past when your life was in danger. They came over the tree-covered hills east of Los Angeles, with the old Highway 79 on their right. The Nortenos maintained the road, clearing it of the ruins of old cars and patching the worst of cracks so that they could still use it to transport supplies from their surrounding farming communities. It provided a clear path to the walled settlement of Canyon City, a main Norteno community. They overflew the highway heading for the city. Any minute now, she knew, her palms sweaty, her pulse throbbing in her skull.

  And then she saw the makeshift walls and densely packed buildings of Canyon City. It was half the size of Sanwa City but still a large settlement, housing more than ten thousand people within its walls. Concrete towers were built along the corrugated iron wall. There'd be heavy machine guns in those towers, she knew, easily capable of downing their aircraft, and they couldn't possibly miss. Our asses are literally hanging out for the plucking.

  "There's the airfield," Casey said, pointing to a small dirt runway within a fenced military zone outside the city.

  "Come in easy and slow," Tec said. "Something's got Tavi on edge."

  "Yeah, us," said Rowan.

  "Not us," answered Tec, his gaze searching the airstrip as they came closer.

  "Well," said Casey, "no one's started shooting at us. That’s always a pleasant surprise."

  "Not yet," Rowan said.

  Angie leaned over Casey's shoulder, sweat and blood gluing the back of her shirt to her skin. They flew over the chain-link fence of the military airfield, and Casey slowed the aircraft, turning it and heading for an open stretch of land. Someone had set a nearby barrel of oil ablaze, and thick black smoke rose from it. Two ancient-looking flatbed pickup trucks filled with Norteno soldiers raced from the city's gates for the airfield. A sandbagged heavy machine gun post atop the tin roof of the airfield’s sole tower aimed its barrel at the helicopter as Casey slowed to a hover, the prop-blast kicking up the black smoke.

  "Don't freaking like this," said Casey. "This bird is armored, but ..."

  Tec squeezed his shoulder. "Trust me. Just put her down."

  "Says the man everyone tells me is a terrorist assassin," answered Casey.

  "I didn't tell you that."

  The helicopter descended, whipping black smoke away. The trucks unloaded their soldiers, who fanned out, surrounding the aircraft. There had to be fifty armed men. Casey set the aircraft down so gently that Angie didn't realize right away that they were on the ground.

  "Maybe I should go first," suggested Angie. "If they shoot, my shade will protect me."

  Would it? She had used most of her magic fighting Nathan's mages and didn’t know how much she had left. At best, she could only siphon trace amounts of the ambient mana in the atmosphere, but to be of any use in a real fight, she’d need to take it directly from the source, from a liv
ing person, by killing them. That was what it meant to be a source mage, to take the life force of others and use it to cast vastly more powerful spells than other mages could, even combat mages. The Other had a bad habit of taking over and doing exactly that whenever her life was in danger. If she died, it wouldn’t be able to use her anymore. It might even die itself—if such an ancient and powerful entity could truly die.

  Tec shook his head. "I'll go. They'll know me."

  "I agree with the Norteno were-jaguar assassin," said Rowan. "He goes first."

  "Told you, I'm not Norteno." Tec slipped back into the cabin and stepped out of the aircraft. Angie darted to Rowan's side of the cockpit, pushing him out of the way as she tried to see Tec through the window, earning a glower from the older man. Tec approached the Norteno soldiers, his hands raised. It seemed at least half of the Norteno soldiers aimed their rifles at him.

  "Not a terribly friendly welcome for one of their own, is it?" Rowan asked. "If you had to, how quickly could you get us airborne and out of range?"

  "Not quickly enough," Casey answered.

  Tec, his hands still in the air, spoke to a group of Norteno soldiers. The soldiers were clearly agitated. Tec turned, faced the cockpit, and ran a finger over his throat, the message clear: cut the engine.

  Casey sighed heavily. "What do you want me to do?" he asked his older brother.

  "We're committed now. Kill it."

  Casey began to shut down the engine. The turbine’s whine lessened, but the rotors continued to circulate, creating a localized storm that pushed the surrounding weeds down in a concentric circle of prop wash.

  When the engine finally died, one of the soldiers Tec was speaking to stepped forward, a bullhorn in his hand. "You in the aircraft," the man ordered, speaking heavily accented English. "Come out one at a time with your hands in the air. If you do anything else, you will be shot."

  Erin popped her head into the cockpit. "I thought these guys were his friends." One of the soldiers was securing Tec's hands behind his back with cuffs while other soldiers leveled rifles at him.

  "This was a really bad idea," said Casey.

  "No other choice," said Rowan. "Our friends tried to give us to those blood-cultist assholes, remember? I'll go first, then you come out one at a time." Jay joined his sister, and Rowan addressed all of them. "If this goes bad, you run. They have no idea how fast we are. Idiots left the gate open. I'll draw their fire while you head for the trees."

  None argued, even though Angie could see the unhappiness in their faces. Rowan was the pack leader, and they'd do as he said, but they weren’t happy about it. Angie wasn't part of the pack, though, and didn't have to follow his orders.

  "I'm going out next," she said. "If they start shooting, my shade will shield me. Do what you have to." She had no way of knowing if the Other could do a damned thing right now, but before they could object, she slipped past Erin and Jay.

  Rowan snatched at her shoulder to stop her, but she was out of reach. "Wait, goddamn it," he said, but she was already out the open cabin door and jumping to the ground. Rowan swore, but she was too far away to hear his words.

  She faced the soldier with the bullhorn, ignoring the others who pointed rifles at her. "Please don't shoot at me," she whispered. The Other had a habit of acting on its own to protect her when it felt her life was in danger, and she really didn’t want to kill any more Norteno soldiers. She marched, hands in the air, toward them. Tec, his wrists tied behind his back, met her gaze. He didn't look frightened, but when had he ever? The man had thrown himself into battle against a demon.

  "On your knees!" one of the men yelled.

  She did as he ordered, and other soldiers grabbed her arms and began securing them behind her with the click of handcuffs. Another pulled Nightfall, her hexed side-sword, from its scabbard. "Mage," he said, his voice panicked. Someone pushed her onto her stomach and knelt on her back. Others, at least a half dozen, aimed their rifles directly at her face.

  She lay in the dirt, her face to the side, and saw Rowan as he climbed out of the helicopter. When he saw her, his face reflected his fear for his family, and she knew a bad situation was about to get much worse.

  They were going to run.

  Chapter 2

  Angie’s heart raced as the Seagraves disembarked from the helicopter. She had seen everything she needed to see in Rowan’s eyes a moment earlier—he’s telling his family to run. Erin stared at Angie, indecision etched clearly on her features. Time froze, but in a moment, the Seagraves would make their move, and then the shooting would start. No matter how fast the werewolves were, they couldn't outrun bullets. She needed to do something before it was too late.

  LET ME, the Other demanded, its alien voice thundering in her skull.

  It only communicated with her at times of great danger, and it wanted to take over now, she knew, to cast spells of fire to burn her enemies. Somehow, she knew it didn't matter that she was handcuffed on her belly with a soldier kneeling on her back; they'd all burn just the same. Bitterness burned through her. No, I won't let that happen, not again!

  She forced the Other to back down, asserting her dominance—my mind, my body, my decision. She felt its frustration surge like a tidal wave against her psyche. Her pulse pounded in her skull, but she wouldn't let it free. I'm not the Angel of Death. I'm in control.

  But how strongly would her resolve hold when her friends started dying?

  The sudden pounding of horses' hooves froze everyone. The Seagraves, the soldiers, even Angie turned her head to the side where she lay on the dirt to watch as the three riders galloped through the open gates of the airfield, the Norteno sentries jumping out of their way. Two women and a man halted their excited mounts between the soldiers and the Seagraves, placing themselves in the line of fire. The lead rider, a tall blond woman atop a magnificent black mare, spun her horse about with considerable horsemanship. The mare reared up, her legs pawing at the air, her eyes dancing with excitement.

  The rider was in her forties, with her hair in a crew cut, the sides shaved over her large ears. She was tall and lean, with pale skin and thin eyebrows so blond they were almost invisible. Her angular face was severe, her nose large, her small, ice-blue eyes set too far apart. At best, she could charitably be considered striking but never beautiful.

  She wore tan military pants, combat boots, and a light-tan Lycra long-sleeved shirt that accentuated her athletic frame. Over her shoulders, she wore a dark-brown cape, an actual cape that reached her waist. A floppy tan patrol hat, the kind with a wide brim and one side pinned up, hung from the back of her neck by a cord. On her hip she wore a cavalry saber, not a smaller, lighter side-sword like Nightfall but a heavy battle sword. Angie recognized her from the photo in her dossier—Mago Commandante Constance Florida Morgan, the legendary leader of the Brujas Fantasmas, the Ghost Witches, the combat mages of the Nortenos.

  Morgan's eyes flared with indignation as she glared at the Norteno soldiers. She expertly edged her horse back to further block their line of fire. Her angry gaze drifted over the two men holding Tec in place, a hand on each of his shoulders and his arms cuffed behind his back, before settling on the man leaning on Angie's back.

  "What the hell is going on?" she demanded in Spanglish, a language so common in this part of North America that pretty much everyone spoke enough to get by, but Angie spoke like a native. "That man is an ally."

  The officer with the bullhorn, a short, swarthy man whose face shone with sweat, stepped forward, his armpits and shirtfront wet with sweat. "He arrived in a Coastie stealth chopper with enemy soldiers."

  The second rider was a much younger woman in her twenties with long brown hair who wore the same caped uniform as Morgan, her own saber on her hip. She glowered at the officer. "He's the Jaguar Knight, you idiot!" She edged her tall chestnut stallion closer, and even the horse snorted in anger, no doubt picking up on his rider's mood.

  Without turning to look, Morgan raised her palm to the other woman, cut
ting her off. "Tavi, let me." She turned to the Seagraves, their postures ready for action, and then to the soldiers who were aiming rifles at them. "All of you," she yelled, her voice booming with authority, "will lower your weapons before someone does something stupid. There are no enemies here, no matter what you may believe."

  To Angie's surprise, the Norteno soldiers did lower their rifles, their faces resembling those of children caught doing something wrong.

  The weight on Angie's back vanished as the soldier removed his knee, but he kept his hand on her neck, holding her down. She felt the cut in her back bleed freely again and drip down her ribs. "Mago Commandante," the man said in a respectful tone. "This one is a mage."

  The officer with the bullhorn bobbed his head quickly. "Mago Commandante, she carried a sword." He gestured to the man who now held Nightfall.

  "She's hurt," the young woman, Tavi, said to Morgan. "Her back is bleeding."

  Morgan sighed and then dismounted, dropping lithely to the ground. For such a tall woman, she moved with the grace of elves. Her dossier said she was a superb swordswoman. Morgan faced the officer, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You have done your duty today, Captain Aguinaldo, but you must trust me to do mine, yes?"

  The captain's lips parted, and his eyes darted toward Angie in indecision, but then he wiped an arm across his face and bowed, stepping back and lowering his gaze deferentially. "Of course, Mago Commandante." He turned to face his men, lifting the bullhorn to his lips. "Do as the Mago Commandante has ordered. Lower your weapons."

  The fact that they already had didn't seem to matter to him.

  "Let her up," Morgan ordered the soldier holding Angie down.

  The pressure on her neck vanished, and the man helped her to her feet.

  "The cuffs," Morgan said, glancing at Tec and then Angie.

  "Mago Commandante," Tavi said, having also dismounted to stand beside Morgan, "I know this woman." Her voice carried a warning, her large brown eyes flashing with indignation at Angie. She slipped closer to Morgan, lowering her voice, but Angie heard her. "This is Angela Ritter. I recognize her face from our files on Coastie mages."