He gave me a bare glance, his jaw tight.
“No,” he said. “I can’t.”
Maygar’s voice rose behind me and I turned, saw him talking on a headset. He used the seer language mixed with what sounded like French.
“They’re closing off the street,” Revik said, translating.
“Didn’t Maygar tell them we’d blow up the building?”
“Yes.” Revik still wouldn’t look at me. “They’d expect that.” I saw him glance at Maygar again. His jaw tightened more.
Just then, Eddard shouted, “Sir! They’re coming!”
I followed the human’s pointing finger. In the distance, black, insect-like shapes rose above the skyline. For months I had them burned into my brain as things that brought death and guns and capture, but this time, my heart lifted as I watched the black dots grow larger.
Maybe we really would get out of this.
I glanced at Eddard, studying his light inside Revik’s construct. Definitely human.
“Who is he?” I asked Revik.
Revik’s eyes followed mine. “He works for me. He said he wouldn’t tell the military unless I did something ‘untoward.’ He’s clean,” he added, preempting my next question. “…and I’m paying him well.”
I nodded, watching the approaching helicopters.
Seconds later, sound came pounding into the alcove where we crouched. At first it came from the helicopters alone, then a whooshing noise ricocheted between buildings, soft at first then deafeningly loud. Revik tensed beside me. I barely recognized the flash of a pair of U.S. fighter jets, right before they fired.
The first missile hit the front helicopter and exploded.
I flinched back, unable to tear my eyes away even through Revik’s shielding arm. I watched as black smoke mushroomed up out of the tilting cockpit. Fire billowed out even as the second one came to its end a breath later.
I watched uncomprehendingly as gravity began to take its toll only a few hundred feet from the roof where we perched.
Rising abruptly to his feet, Revik withdrew towards the small stairwell, motioning the others back towards the access door even as I heard the crash and grind of metal and glass. I still sat there, numb, as the two helicopters completed their falls, smashing down into whatever had the misfortune of lying on the street below.
I could feel the seers inside the cockpits, dying.
I was still standing there when someone grabbed my arm, dragging me towards the open metal door. I didn’t realize until then that they’d all gone inside, that I was out there alone. When I glanced back at Maygar’s face, he only yanked on my arm harder, his eyes and mouth exuding impatience.
With a last look at the sky, I retreated indoors with the rest of them, even as the jets flashed by in tandem overhead, leaving white contrails in their wake.
INSIDE THE BARRIER, winds whip, throwing to and fro the lit strands of billions of interconnected beings.
The Pyramid looms over London, casting a long shadow, bending and crushing living lights as members of the Org, the Brotherhood––the Rooks––dive in and out of buildings, through minds and connections, in and out of military and paramilitary and homeland security agents for three different nations. On the ground, SCARB is running operations by now. They direct the actions of the military and local authorities, and even that of the Sweeps, their more bureaucratic counterpart that deals primarily with illegal seer incursions into human territory.
These days, SCARB employs far more seers than humans, although human authorities and the World Court do their best to keep that fact from civilians.
Above the mass of infiltrators, two light bodies stand alone, watching.
One directs no small part of the larger organism of the Pyramid.
He does this in the background, using pieces of his mind and light that no longer need to pull from the bulk of his waking consciousness.
The other being, the one standing next to him, is his oldest friend.
She’s shielded, Xarethe comments. Likely by Elan’s boy, Maygar. Or those kneelers back in Asia. Maybe even Dehgoies himself, by now.
You are sure that Dehgoies is here? Galaith says.
Her only answer is a grim nod as she stares out over darting forms.
He is alive, then, Galaith breathes, unable to hide his relief. Terian only took him from me. Likely to use him against me. Still thinking, Galaith frowns. Clearly, he wants the Bridge for those ends, too. Dehgoies could help him to obtain her.
And to control her, Xarethe sends.
Galaith’s frown deepens. Yes. Of course.
Both of them watch as the Org’s infiltrators weave a dense Barrier structure over the white building, focusing primarily on the top floor. The net will push the Seven’s infiltrators out. It will keep any out who might try to help the Bridge and her followers from the Barrier.
Following completion of the net, they will tackle Dehgoies’s construct next.
Everything done by the Org is systematic, by the numbers.
Xarethe asks, Isn’t it more of a risk, to kill her now? Won’t she simply return? She studies Galaith’s light through the Barrier’s dark. We could do as Terian is attempting, instead. Bring her in alive. Dehgoies, too. If we have her mate, she will have little choice but to cooperate with us. We could use her to bring the war when we’re ready. On our own terms.
Galaith smiles wryly. You are assuming this war can be controlled. War can rarely be controlled my friend… and a Displacement less than most.
His light follows the swarm of infiltrators. Anyway, the Bridge and Alyson are not precisely the same creature. She may not have any more control over this than we do. Beneath her surface personality there exists a drive––a pre-programming, if you will. It is very difficult to persuade such an influence. She is not the Bridge so much as possessed by it.
Still. He shrugs, gazing back out over the cloak woven by his drones. She has, and always will be, the very first choice to fulfill this role. That does mean something.
Xarethe thinks about his words. Can it be stopped? In your opinion, Protecting Shield. Is this force able to be restrained?
Galaith nods slowly, pensive. Yes. I think so. With careful work.
And Dehgoies?
Galaith chuckles. Ah, Dehgoies. What will we do with him? The smile turns affectionate. He deserves partial credit for all of this. He extends a hand over the cloud of infiltrators making up the network. But Terian was wasting his time. It was nots a temporary shield that we put on Dehgoies’s mind when he left. We broke him entirely.
He sighs, exuding pale light.
He is purely an invention of the Seven now. More dead than alive… at least in relation to what he once was. No. He shakes his head regretfully. We have nothing to fear in him, old friend. Dehgoies is a ghost now. A shadow.
Xarethe doesn’t answer.
Peace, Galaith says. It requires constant work, does it not? His dark eyes burn like coals. I want no more talk of Displacements, or prophesied wars.
And Terian? she ventures. He is one of The Four, is he not?
Galaith’s eyes flash as he turns. After a pause, he smiles enigmatically. Does such a possibility surprise you, old friend?
Somewhat, yes, she says. Does he know?
Galaith’s light form exudes another cryptic smile. I believe he is beginning to suspect.
And what will you do with him? Xarethe persists. Does it not worry you, that he might start this war, even without your Bridge? Or that you may damage history, by doing away with more than one of The Four?
Galaith smiles wryly, clasping light hands at the base of his back.
After a pause, he turns, meeting the other’s gaze.
I promised my friend Xarethe that I would not exterminate all of her creations.
His smile grows harder, even as the black eyes turn sharp.
…But Terry, he says gently. Your time is up. It is fortunate for me that you are as obvious as you are insane.
The being ca
lling itself Xarethe turns, its glowing eyes suddenly predatory.
Galaith adds, I hope, at least, you got the explanations you were hoping for, old friend.
A bolt of light strikes from overhead.
Terian sidesteps it, severing his connection to the Pyramid even as he leaves the false imprint of Xarethe behind.
The darkness disappears…
…AND TERIAN JERKED open yellow-gold eyes.
He lay in a cream-colored seat on a private plane, a middle-aged woman with a tennis player’s body. She was on her way to the Hamptons for the week, with husband number two and kids. When she blinked her eyes to clear them, a man appeared over her, holding a gun.
It was not her husband.
“Did you really think he wouldn’t hear what you’d been doing, Terry?” the seer asked.
The woman held up a hand. A diamond wedding ring sparkled from her third finger. “We can talk about this, my brother—”
The infiltrator fired.
The skull of the slim woman in the five thousand dollar Chanel suit blew back from an entry point just at the inside of her right eye, decorating the seat’s upholstery with a sickening thump.
She slumped forward in the soft leather seat.
…just as a different man on another continent approached a girl patiently brushing a pony’s dark mane. She looked maybe sixteen, but the expression in her eyes flashed older as the infiltrator approaching her fit a silencer to the end of his pistol. Her long hair caught in a gust of wind as she struggled to mount the small horse.
Before she could get her leg over, he fired.
Now they are all aware. All Terians, everywhere. He is on the run, in all his various forms, but Galaith expected that, planned for it.
…A man in his mid-twenties bolted down an aisle of slot machines, eyes wide as he scanned for exits amid the flashing lights and sounds of the casino. He’d just about reached the cordoned entrance to the cocktail lounge when a security guard stepped directly behind him, stabbing him in the kidney multiple times with a straight-edged knife.
Before he could cry out, the same guard jammed a syringe into his neck.
He hit a button to depress the stopper.
A crowd gathered as the twenty-something man convulsed on the carpet. Only the guard saw his eyes flash yellow before he expired.
…A businessman in Italy stepped out of his church, looking around frantically for his family’s chauffeured car. He crossed the street with his coat collar raised, lifting a hand for a taxi when unknown persons gunned him down in front of ten witnesses, including the secretary he’d met an hour earlier at a nearby apartment building, and who he’d been banging behind his wife’s back for over three months.
…even as, with a jerk and a gasp, the Vice President of the United States, Ethan Wellington, sat up in bed.
For a long moment, he didn’t know what woke him.
He didn’t know what was wrong.
Then, receiving a number of flashes from the Barrier construct he’d erected over the room, he felt in the bed beside him for the body of his wife, feeling a faint rush of panic when he couldn’t find her. Seconds later, he remembered she was out, touring the Southern states on free school lunches, or one of the other social programs he’d asked her to support.
As parts of him whispered in the dark, he found himself thankful for her absence.
He threw back the covers, shoved his feet into plush slippers and reached for the drawer where he still kept a small gun, like in that apartment he and Helen shared when they lived together in graduate school.
The door to his bedroom opened.
Ethan tensed, blinking up into the giant eye of a Maglite flashlight.
“Good,” he said, exhaling as he recognized Wes, the lead of his security detail. “Have them bring my car around. There’s been a family emergency, and—”
“Sir,” the agent said. “That won’t be necessary.”
It occurred to Ethan that he’d made a mistake, even as his eyes adjusted enough to see the gun his security chief held beside the flashlight.
Ethan’s mind toyed with regret—that this wasn’t a seer’s body, that he might have acted faster, that he hadn’t remembered to call Helen that night.
The agent emptied four chambers into his chest.
Ethan’s brown eyes flashed yellow as he slid to the bedroom floor, bleeding on the new silk carpet his wife found for them in Dubai during their last trip with President Daniel Caine, Lisa Caine and the twins.
The last thing Ethan heard was the elongated scream of a siren outside his window, and then everything went dark.
46
CONTACT
I WATCHED REVIK check a security panel by the study doors.
Eddard hovered near him. Jon and Cass stood out of sight of the tall sash windows, looking down onto the street where I could hear the activity ramping up even more. Maygar did the same by a third window, an automatic rifle gripped in his hands.
While I watched, Jon shoved a gun in the back of his belt, holding another in his good hand, what looked like one of Revik’s Glocks.
My brother the pacifist.
I glanced back as Revik passed by where I stood, aiming for the china closet. He moved aside a vase on a nearby accent table and slid a key off the wood with his fingers. I watched him unlock the double hutch doors, pressing a button concealed behind a faux wooden panel.
The panel slid back, pushing out a velvet-cushioned tray.
I could only stare as he pulled another handgun off the blue, velvet cloth, checking the magazine for how many bullets remained, then the chamber before handing it to Eddard. He picked up a second gun, then a third. He checked them all, shoving one in his belt before passing the other to Eddard, as well.
I saw him motion towards me then, still muttering to Eddard in a voice too low for me to hear, and I looked away.
I held my stomach with one arm. I was having trouble breathing.
My brain seemed to have short-circuited somewhere between the conversation over lunch and the two helicopters exploding over the London streets below. Some kind of delayed reaction, maybe. To being fired on by jets, prolonged stress, almost zero sleep in two days. To finding out Revik, Cass and Jon were still alive.
More than anything, I was still reeling from the last of these.
Jon and Cass were alive. Alive, but obviously hurt, traumatized, nearly starved to death, tortured for weeks, if not months. They both looked so different I barely recognized them, and not only physically. I was grieving and angry that I was getting them back only to put them in danger again––and that I’d only have to send them away afterwards, assuming we managed to get out of this alive. The scar on Cass, Jon’s missing fingers, how thin they were, the expression their eyes held––I looked at them and I wished I could do something. Anything.
But I couldn’t.
I glanced at Revik. He didn’t return my look.
I felt a push to move my limbs. I think I meant to walk over to Jon and Cass, but my body must have had other ideas, because I only got as far as the china closet and the exposed tray of guns. Revik no longer stood there. He stood by another wall panel on the other side of the room. He was punching in keys, his eyes showing him to be in the Barrier.
“They changed all my codes,” he muttered. “We’ll have to take the stairs.”
I stared at a gun on the tray I recognized.
It looked just like the one Revik held all those years ago in Germany. I picked it up, hefting the weight of the metal in my hand. It was so small. It looked like a toy.
“We can’t take the elevator,” Revik said. I felt his attention on me, but I didn’t turn around. “We have to get to the stairs. Now. There’s some chance we can still make it to the basement.”
“Revik.” Clearing my throat, I shook my head. “No.”
Everyone paused.
I thought they’d forgotten me in their panic, but when I turned around, the whole room was focused on my face. Even Ed
dard stared, his expression a mixture of curiosity and pity. He probably thought I’d snapped. I didn’t look at Revik, but felt his mind slide past my words, still thinking about how we would get out of the building.
He turned to Eddard. “Get the charges from my room. If I have more clips—”
“Revik,” I said. “No. We won’t get out that way.”
He didn’t look at me. I watched him put a hand on the wall. He turned towards me, still without looking at me, his face closed.
“Allie. We don’t have any choice.”
“No.” I shook my head. “Not that way. We can’t.”
I saw his jaw harden. He still wouldn’t look at me. “Please trust me on this, Esteemed Bridge. I am not being disrespectful. I swear to you, I’m not. I simply know our options here. This is my home. Let me protect you in it.”
I saw Jon and Cass stare at him, as if they didn’t recognize him.
Then they both, seemingly at the same instant, looked at me.
“I do trust you,” I said. “But I can’t let you take us out that way.”
“Allie!” Cass said.
I looked at her. My whole body was shaking. I stood there, in the middle of the room, barely able to stand upright from the pain in my chest.
“Allie, what are you doing?” Jon said. His voice sounded shocked.
Revik stared at me, his eyes flat now, wary.
I didn’t realize at first I was pointing the gun at him. It wasn’t until I looked at Jon, saw his mouth hanging open, his hazel eyes wide, that I realized something was wrong. I looked down at my hands. They gripped the gun, steady.
“Allie.” Revik held out a hand. “Please. Give it to me—”
“No.” I took a step back. “Please, Revik. You have to listen to me. He expects you to do this. He’s counting on it.” My voice lowered, growing angry, but not at him. My eyes blurred as they filled with tears, but I couldn’t care about that either.
I knew I was right. I had no idea how I knew, but I did.
Rook (Bridge & Sword: Awakenings #1): Bridge & Sword World Page 44