by Jon Chaisson
“Speaking of which,” Caren said, nodding in the direction of the Tower. “Just up to the Sector boundary and back. Three more blocks, then we can head back.”
“Okay,” he mumbled, suddenly distracted. “Huh. Is it me or did it just cool off all of a sudden?”
She lifted her head and cast another sensing thread, reeling it back quickly in alarm. The temperature had indeed dropped considerably...and unnaturally. She focused on the civilians nearby; the unawakened felt nothing, but the sensitives had also felt the change. They had all picked up on the change in energy. Some had quickened their pace but others had stopped completely, already picking up on the changes and preparing themselves for a confrontation. Caren shook her head, cursing quietly. There were Shenaihu nuhm’ndah nearby, no doubt.
“It did,” she said to Poe, and keyed the comm attached to the epaulet of her overcoat. “ARU Branden Hill, this is CJ-one-twenty-two, you copy?”
Cilla, their unit’s head communications operator, answered the call. “Copy that, CJ-122. Target you and Agent Poe at Guyton West and Sandison. What’s going on, eichi?”
“Cilla, do me a favor — read our location and do a wide scan, will you?”
“Sure thing, CJ,” she answered. “Commencing scan now.”
Somewhere miles above the Earth on Tigua Space Station, the Edwin-Akandia Energy Sensor Device started the task, found and latched onto the energy readings of Poe and herself, and made an ever increasing spiral sweep of the area around them. The ESD read Light energy much like normal radio telescopes would pick up radio waves; the ARU had been using it for at least two decades, oftentimes relying on it like a crutch, but it had been a lifesaver on numerous occasions. Caren feared this may end up being one of them.
“You’ve got a lot of sensitives in the area,” Cilla said. “Mostly newborns. A few Mendaihu and Shenaihu...wait.” She paused, but did not take her hand off the mike key. “Looking at two — no, one — wait a minute. Either there’s two nuhm’ndah close together, or this guy is enormous. Zooming in now.”
“Location?” Poe asked.
“Should be right in front of you,” Cilla said. “Fifty yards or so. One nuhm’ndah, repeat — one nuhm’ndah, and he’s off the damn charts. Proceed with extreme caution.”
Caren scanned the immediate area and saw nothing out of the ordinary. She reached for her stunstik anyway, and just to be on the safe side, set her pistol to undo its safety upon handreading. “Slipping in, Poe,” she said. “Back me up. Going to get a bead on them.” She blinked twice, and everything around her became sharper, more intensely real. Ghostlike auras shimmered around people and animals that passed by her.
“I don’t see anything,” Poe said, craning his neck, continuing his straight visual scan. “You?”
“Still looking,” she said. “Damn crowded down here to — wait a second.”
Nuhm’ndah.
Caren suddenly gasped, an unknown voice invading her thoughts.
Nuhm’ndah!
“There. Got a lock on him.”
The man stood patiently in front of an appliance store window with his hands flexing at his sides, glancing furtively at every person who passed by. He was indeed enormous, at least seven feet or more, narrow in frame but far from lacking muscle. He had long, unkempt black hair, most of it obscuring his face. She focused her readings on his soul’s signature…or more to the point, the lack of any. Hundreds of flickering spirits passed by in this busy business district, but this one man stood out. There was no shine, nothing. It was as if he had no spirit at all. If he did, he was keeping it well hidden. The only mark on him was his face. A dark and bloody static obscuring the man’s face in a completely unnatural way, refusing to show the man’s real identity —
There he is!
That wasn't Poe talking, nor was it this Shenaihu nuhm’ndah. It was someone else, very close by. Too close. She could feel the increasing ripples of fear and anger starting to wash over her.
I’ve got him now!
She adjusted her vision back to normal and rubbed at her eyes in frustration. The man — no, a giant of a Meraladian, stood almost directly across the street from them. He’d sensed the other man as well, and had stopped fidgeting. He stood his ground, palms out, ready for action but refusing to be the first one to act.
“I see him,” Poe said. “Shit. They’ve got a crowd.”
“He’s —” she stopped again, and paled.
Karinna…don’t let her die this way, the voice whispered within.
“He's —”
Karinna, the voice cried. Who the hell…? Please, you must protect her!
Poe’s gaping mouth snapped shut, forming a thin, severe line. His brows furrowed, he let out a slow breath and moved quickly towards the curb. Caren cursed and followed, suddenly feeling dizzy and excited at the same time. The unexpected thrill of the Mendaihu hunt welled within her, having found a potential threat against those she watched over...and the stark reminder that she had never reacted like this before in her life. This man was not yet a criminal, only a Shenaihu nuhm’ndah, making his presence known.
Why did she suddenly feel such intense hatred for this man? Who was he? She dared not reach out and sense him directly, fearing these violent energies would ensnare and swallow her own spirit whole.
Another man, much shorter and far weaker, had quickly moved into the tall man’s personal space. She watched the big man sidestep, left to right and back again in defensive response. The shorter man’s aura shone in a silvery light, almost angelic. Caren instantly recognized the Mendaihu soul within. He was chattering and waving his arms, but making no moves to assault. He didn’t seem to have any attack plan at all, only to swarm and irritate him.
I am Mendaihu Gharra, the small man announced to all who could hear him. Caren’s heart jumped. That voice she heard moments before had been his. And he was about to make a very, very huge and dangerous mistake.
No, no! “Goddess…! Poe, he’s —”
The Shenaihu leaned forward, closed his eyes, and held hands to his heart, palms out. She recognized the movement and quickly retreated, cursing and pulling Poe with her. The big man screamed something in a heavily accented Anjshé, and pushed. The small man goggled at him, and had just enough time to bring up hands in the same gesture to brace himself for impact.
The Light tore out of the large man’s palms with such force it ripped the air in front of him, leaving a bloody contrail of physical spiritform behind it, just as it had at the Tower.
Caren had just enough time to grab Poe’s arm and steady him as the force of the shockwave hit. She took a lunge position and stood her ground. She heard the screams and the skidding of tires up the street —
No, not this! she heard the man cry. Not like this!
Caren shouted and cursed. Six nearby transports, caught in the wake of the energy blast, lost control and swerved into each other. Storefront windows shattered everywhere —
Karinna stay back
— but very few in the crowd had retreated…and Caren sensed something wrong. Something so very wrong. They weren’t protecting those nearby. They weren’t helping anyone who’d been caught in the shockwave, but slowly moving forward. Goddess, this was like St. Patrick’s all over again! She began pushing her way through the crowd, Poe close behind. She was not going to let this happen again.
The smaller man refused to give up. He was raving inside despite his laboring breath, hobbling gait and his nearly useless left arm. I am Mendaihu Gharra! He staggered forward again, stopped suddenly, and glanced at Caren.
Smiled...?
She felt his needle thin wisp of sensing a second later, and shivered. She pleaded for him to stop, but he’d already turned back, ready for another round.
The large man frowned, then let out a quick laugh and nodded at his foe with all the conviction of a man looking forward to killing his prey.
Call me Saisshalé, he said.
Caren felt that voice within her chest...a trembling
restraint. Someone behind her gasped at mention of that name, and she felt hatred. A deep and primal hatred, and a choking disgust so visceral she felt it in the pit of her stomach, the bile rising to her throat. She knew who this man was, hated him with every fiber of her spirit. She should not be feeling this way, not against anyone, Shenaihu or Mendaihu, and especially not against someone she’d had no knowledge of. She was Protector, not Warrior. She was —
Karinna, the small man said. Peace Love and Light to you.
Caren opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came.
Gordan Milainikos, she’d sensed from the man’s brief connection. He nodded slightly in her direction. Caren found herself staring at him, knowing instantly that he was there for a reason, and to tell her...
Tell me what?
“It's almost time,” Gordan said between breaths.
The nuhm’ndah laughed at him. “Not nearly, jinko.” He lashed out, grabbed a fistful of Gordan’s collar, and yanked him off his feet before he could react. Gordan flailed but connected at nothing. You’re not even close to the truth, the nuhm’ndah said within. He grabbed Gordan’s neck with his other hand, and stepped into Light —
Gordan! She cursed aloud and sent another strand of sensing energy, but it was no use; it was already lost to the chaos. She reeled it back in and started moving forward again.
“He's in the next alleyway,” Poe said, keeping pace with her.
“You saw them?”
“Sensed them exit.” His face was a ghostly pale. He'd recognized something about that nuhm’ndah, that Saisshalé...something she’d missed first time around.
She heard and felt another tearing of the air from around the corner, shorter and louder this time. Caren knew that sound, remembered it from her childhood. A small yet powerful crackling of air, the sound of someone powerful, stepping back out of Light. The crowd...again, something wasn’t quite right. A recognizable pang that anyone could taste from a mile away. An extremely thin balance between Mendaihu and Shenaihu, between primal love and hate. She spread another gossamer wing of energy over them, reading them all at once, and recoiled in horror.
They were all cho-nyhndah, just waiting to fully awaken. Wanting answers and receiving few. Open, directionless souls with Mendaihu blood, waiting for inspiration. And growing angrier by the moment.
“Balance,” she said, and called out. Gordan.
Agonizing seconds passed before he answered. He wants her, Karinna.
Her hands balled into fists. The One of All Sacred?
He wants to stop her, he grunted. But without her, we may all die.
She frowned deeply into the air. Gordan, what are you talking about?
Gordan let out a wail. Ahhh Goddess. Karinna we’ve got to k — grrk....graaAAAAH—
A knife of searing pain hit her square in the gut, stopping her dead. She gagged and coughed up blood that was not there, and blindly grabbed at Poe’s jacket. Pain gave way to an even deeper hatred — Saisshalé had attacked Gordan twice, without reason or remorse. She gathered her strength and scrambled through the crowd and into the alleyway. Poe was a few steps behind, barely masking his fury. He’d felt that pain as well.
The two men were halfway up the alley. Saisshalé had Gordan’s collar locked in a tight fist, lifting him high. Gordan attempted to wrestle him away with his right hand, his left still useless at his side. Caren and Poe kept their distance, preparing themselves for a bloody fight. Caren grabbed for the stunstik clipped to her belt, then thought, screw it — she pulled her Shrieve automatic out of its holster, activated it, and aimed. Poe followed her lead.
“ARU, drop the civilian!” she shouted, standing defiant. “Sa’im rhade, D’haff Sshalé. Don’t make us use force.”
Karinna! Gordan managed with a gurgling scream. No! Not him!
Shut up, Gordan. I'm trying to save your life.
The Shenaihu nuhm’ndah turned and saw Caren, and stared at her in such a way that her soul shuddered. He was reading her, prodding at her spirit clumsily and recklessly, and it felt like a violation — she growled herself, barely able to contain her disgust. She did not recoil or lose her aim, however. There was no way in hell she’d give him the opportunity to find a weak spot, ever. Not this man.
The man gave with an unearthly growl, and dropped Gordan's limp body, leaving him in a sick, twitching heap. He turned fully and faced Caren full on.
“Karinna,” the man said. “I know you.”
Gordan moaned and tried to crawl away. Karinna...?
I'll be fine, she said to him. Peace, Love and Light to you, eichi.
The man glanced at her weapon and began to laugh. “Shoot me with that? Not likely, jinko.”
Jinko. Second time he used that term. Normally an antialienist slur, but this time used to call her out on not being awakened from birth. Not the connotation she’d expected.
“Step slowly,” she said evenly, “…and no one gets hurt.”
He laughed harder this time. “You don't even know who I am, do you?”
This time, she laughed. No, but I have an idea, she said within, the rage of her Shenaihu side bursting forth, unrestrained.
The man stopped laughing. His face contorted into a mixture of confusion and surprise...but not fear. This Saisshalé was immune to fear, by the sensing of it...all she could feel were his surface emotions, but they were frightfully strong. He was running on pure, unfiltered spirit right now. She waved at Poe to back her up as she moved slightly closer.
I am Karinna Shalei, Mendaihu Gharra, she said. Don't make me come over there and displace you into a wall.
The man regained his composure and grinned. “Not bad for a newbie,” he said with amusement. “Better watch that bravado, though. Could cost you.” He lifted his left hand and pushed the air in one fast and fluid movement —
“Poe! Watch —” She reached for him again but missed this time. He reacted a moment too late and was lifted off his feet, crashing into the opposite wall. She felt a sharp needle of pain appear on his left shoulder, and immediately sent out a quick thread of soulhealing his way. Poe was damned lucky in that he’d feinted at the last second and had only been grazed by Saisshalé’s blast.
But it was all she needed. No one attacked her partner, or anyone in her city, not now. She glared at him, took a step forward against the man's shockwave, and pushed back at the air with her free hand. Saisshalé did not expect the move and lost his balance, tripped over Gordan's body and crashed into the wall behind him.
Weak, he laughed, dazed but otherwise unharmed. He lifted himself up and dusted himself off. Pitiful, Karinna. I know you’re stronger than that. He moved his hand again, and this time she felt the gathering of energy. She lifted her own hand and —
“No!” Poe shouted, and fired his Shrieve. Light bursts seared the air past Caren’s left shoulder and straight for Saisshalé’s chest, but stopped just short, hot needle fire hissing against his invisible wall of defense. The force, though, pushed the man back a few more feet, nailing him against the wall again. Caren saw the opening, and went for it.
“D’haff Sshalé!” she roared as she sprinted towards him, lunging for his midsection. She connected and heard the crack of bone and the rush of air out of his lungs. He gasped, eyes wide, and tried pushed himself up again. Caren saw the next opening, kicked her right leg high and connected with the left side of his face. He spun drunkenly, arms swinging at nothing. She grabbed his collar, and pushed with her entire soul. Hard.
“Two questions,” she growled, taking him by the throat. He gurgled as she swung his body up against the crumbling brownstone with a dull thud. Another crack as the back of the man's skull hit the wall.
“First, why the Mendaihu, and why now?”
The man coughed up blood, splattering Caren's uniform. She did not flinch.
Ask Janoss Miradesi, he said. Ask him why he attacked St. Patrick's.
She smiled at that. Janoss...Natianos Lehanna’s flunky was behind that attack? But this one,
by all accounts, was random. Saisshalé cowered, now clawing at his throat unsuccessfully. He was amazed, and maybe a little afraid now, at his inability to escape the grip of this merely human ARU officer.
Caren pushed him into the wall again. He gurgled and spat more blood in response.
“Second, why am I a jinko, asshole?”
The man actually grinned, despite the pain. Manmade, eichi, he said within, his voice low, guttural, and purely malicious. An Earth cho-nyhndah. Unnaturally awakened. Unclean.
Then his right foot connected with her stomach and pain shot up her gut and up her throat. She let out a squeal and soared backwards, crashing against the opposite wall, inches away from Poe.
Bastard, she hissed. You do not do that to me!
Gasping for air, she grabbed for her gun again and aimed. At nothing.
“Where the...” she stopped short and fell back to the ground, retching. That kick had taken more out of her than she’d expected. She’d numbed the pain with her own soulhealing, but it had taken all the fight out of her in one go, and that shouldn’t have happened. She shifted and sat in the rubble of the alleyway, gathering her senses again. “Where…where the hell did he go?” she managed. She glanced at the spot where Saisshalé had been seconds earlier, then at the body of Gordan Milainikos. He was unconscious, and his breathing had become shallow and raspy. She grabbed her comm from her overcoat epaulet and keyed in the ambulance homing signal.
Unclean. She bit her tongue as she caught her breath, the sharp pain of the attacker’s kick still wrenching her gut. The more extremist nuhm’ndah couldn't stand the idea of cho-nyhndah created by ritual means…and Denni’s Gathering ritual had done precisely that on a global scale. The idea of judging the purity of someone’s spirit disgusted her; she did not want this to become a purity issue, not if she could help it. Needles tore at her lungs as she inhaled, and she swore again. She shouldn't have attacked so soon, so violently.
Whatever the hell just happened sickened her on multiple levels. This was not a random attack, not at all.
“Where the hell did he go?” she asked.