He waved us over.
“Alrighty,” Kana said, all jazzed up. “Let’s go. I’ll ride your tail, keep you out of trouble.”
One look back at the shocked guards and I ran out into the storm.
I twisted my left ankle veering out of the way of a falling death-stone, but otherwise we arrived at the car in good shape. And then we were driving. The dynamite thing about driving in a brimstorm is that no one else is driving. Traffic slams to a halt during the phenomenon. We made great time, despite being slowed by a melted front tire.
The paint jobs and the tires of every vehicle in Philicity are thicker than everywhere else, but even so, flats and burns do occasionally happen.
We wobbled down Golden Avenue, the main street bisecting the metropolis. The storm was reaching its apex as we rock-and-rolled into the parking garage in Virgil’s Nave. I got out first so I could play the gentleman and help Izzy, offering my hand while the stench of burnt rubber filled my nose. An empty police car was parked haphazardly. Didn’t want to think what that meant for us.
“That didn’t go too badly, considering,” Faustus cheered. “Darn fine idea of mine. Good thing I agreed to come along after all.”
A quick crack rang out. It sounded different from the small explosions the brimstones make when they impact pavement and grass. “Was that a gunshot?” I asked.
We all traded glances. No one said what we all were thinking.
We marched over to the exit and looked out on the Nave. The buildings in this business district were all coated in heat-resistant materials and paint, so the brimstone had little effect on them. But the kid parks and the gardens nestled between the buildings were taking a pummeling. Smidge fires were scattered among them, which reminded me that the fire patrols would be out as soon as the storm ended.
“We can’t wait for it to let up,” I announced. They nodded.
Our peepers fell on Mythcorp Tower, standing proud and gleaming even in the gloom. From the manuscripts I’d learned that it had been constructed of some mysterious polymer and bullet-proof glass—which explained why it had weathered fifteen years of brimstorms so well, but failed to reveal why no one had ever purchased it.
“That’s a lot further than the Lincoln was,” Kana said. “What do you think, Red, a hundred yards?”
“At least, and these two are dead on their feet. We should go on ahead without them. They’ll just slow us down.”
“What?” I squeaked.
“Relax,” Faustus laughed. “I’m just pulling your leg. I’ll carry Miss Izzy again, if she’ll permit me, and this time Kana will have to tote you around.” He clapped his hands and skipped over to Izzy. Meanwhile I looked down at Kana, the five foot not-enough-to-mention Mythcion.
She gave this real kooky look I couldn’t interpret. “I don’t think so,” I said.
“You see that door there on the side?” she pointed at a set of glass doors located approximately on the other side of the moon. I nodded. “Okay,” Kana continued. “The back doors are even further than those, all the way around the corner there. Think you can make that run?”
I shrugged. “You really think you can carry me that far?”
“Ha,” Faustus snickered. “I’ve seen this chick lug Malthus around. I’m pretty sure she can handle your stick body.”
Kana and I argued about it some more, until Faustus interrupted with: “Hurry it up, you two. My clothes are going out of style.”
I sighed and positioned myself to be picked up. Kana approached. She hoisted me in her arms and slung me over her back, fireman-style. Izzy couldn’t stop laughing.
“Shut up, Izzy.”
Every time one of those murderous buggers came close or whenever it looked like Kana was guiding us into the path of one, I thought, this is it, we’re dead. But each time she led us past it and each time I had to swallow my pumper again.
“Is it getting worse?” I asked halfway there. “I think it’s getting worse.”
Twenty-five ticks later even Faustus had to admit it was getting worse. Ten ticks after that, while racing through the sand park next to Mythcorp, jumping over smoldering stones, Izzy screamed.
“Izzy! What happened? Kana, turn me the other way, I can’t see them.”
“They’re fine,” Kana said, bouncing me over the sand. We had to yell to be heard over the rumbling storm.
“Bull crap!” I shrieked.
“A small thread burned a bit off of Izzy’s shoe is all,” she said. “She’s fine.”
Kana heaved us up over a patch of half-burned tulips, landing with such agility and poise and gentleness that I barely felt jolted. She led us past those doors she’d told me about, and then I knew we were close.
We passed into shadows even darker than those cast by the sky. Almost there. But the brimstorm was at its peak and you could hardly go two steps without running into fire.
“Holy Seth it’s getting thick out here,” Kana yelled. “Take one of my dirks and deflect those sething fiery balls.”
I obeyed, drawing one of her short swords from its back strap. With this weapon, and while holding on to my cane with my right hand, I swatted away a few of the flaming blobs. If it weren’t for being carried by a tiny woman, I’d be feeling real Conan-like.
Kana announced a miracle: “We’ve made it.” Before I knew it she was depositing me down on a concrete loading dock, a steel canopy overhead. I ran over to Izzy and embraced her, hoisting her up without even asking. I realized my faux-pas and set her down.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” she said, and favored me with a lovely sexy smile. It was a promise-smile, one of those special deals girls give when they can’t ‘reward’ you right then, but fully intend to later.
We were safe at last—for now.
“All right, Tiny,” Faustus said, still in fine spirits. “Do your thing.”
Kana tugged on the overhead door handle. Nothing. She grunted and yanked on it again. Still nothing. “It ain’t budging.”
The brimstorm was beginning to peter out now. A few minutes passed in silence as Kana and Faustus made alternate futile attempts to open the heavy overhead door.
I happened to glance up at a nearby office building. Movement. Sure enough, a few ticks later, the first dart came whistling down at us. “Kana,” I said slowly. “You need to hurry it up.”
“Whoa!” Izzy leaped aside as a dart clattered onto the concrete beside her foot.
“Get behind me,” Faustus waved an arm protectively at me and Izzy. “You heard the man, Tiny. Quit screwing around and open that door.”
Chapter 32
Sanson
A sudden, explosive rumbling shook the parking garage. We stopped cold. Ash was the first to understand. He peeked out at the sky from between two columns. It had darkened considerably since our arrival. “A brimstorm?” Ash asked. Lamorak nodded. “Impossible. When’s the next one expected?”
“The weather station said not for three weeks,” Lamorak answered. “But those are brimstorm clouds.”
“Well then,” Ash looked up at the officers. “I guess we’d better hurry.”
I shoved my way forward to whisper in his ear, “Maybe we should wait. I mean, all these problems, maybe we aren’t meant to go in today.”
Ash cinched his backpack tighter and rubbed his eyes. “Things have been put into motion. We’re going. Screw the brimstorm.” He plucked the helmets from the officers’ heads, plocked one on his own and the other over Lamorak’s head, explaining to Agravaine, “He might have a concussion. He could drop at any moment.”
Then we were off, racing Mother Nature and Father Time so Ash could play Prince Morai.
I lingered behind in the garage. “’Things have been put into motion’?” What did that mean? Eventually I decided it was wiser to play the Devil’s advocate than his enemy.
The first step was the hardest, but once I saw the brimstone falling all around me, I skedaddled, keeping my eyes up, scanning for burning death. The air was
thick with sudden heat, as it always is during a brimstorm, and on top of the rumbling my thermal shrieked.
The worst part of running through this unexpected weather was that I didn’t know if I’d been hit or if I was free and clear. Most yahoos think that not being able to feel pain would be the bomb, but that’s why they’re yahoos. If only they knew.
Ash and the rest of his crew had already made it to the front doors. I could see him lifting that golden key card out of his pocket, the cops standing as sentinels behind him, the Montaigne’s and Agravaine on either side. My attention was ripped away when a tight grouping of brimstone forced me to duck and roll.
I lay there near the sandbox in the park, uttering “Please don’t seize up,” like a mantra.
My moment of stupidity passed real quickly when I spotted a steaming blob of fire plummeting straight for my face. I struggled to rise and barely made it to my feet in time to dive out of the way. The fireball bombed into the sandbox, spraying sand in every direction. Some splattered against my back. I didn’t feel this of course, but I knew it because some of the sand doused and lit the grass all around me like gritty napalm.
Forty or so feet to the group.
I stumbled and staggered, looking pretty much like a major yahoo, but eventually I made it to the safety under the awning. There was barely enough space here for all eight of us, so Ash returned the helmets to the cops and made them stand at the fringe of the group. They deflected a few particularly frisky brimstones with their riot shields. These heavy plastic buggers quickly melted into art-deco shapes.
“What are we waiting for?” I screamed.
“The key isn’t working,” Agravaine answered. He turned back to Ash. “Is it a fake? Did he give you some kind of—”
“It’s not a fake,” Ash hissed. I shuddered at his tone. In a moment though he calmed himself and swiped the card through the coding-slot again. Nothing, not even a red light to indicate a forged card. Mr. Montaigne leaned in and whispered something.
“You’re right, of course,” Ash said. “The power isn’t on yet, that’s all. We just have to wait.”
“Wait?” three of us blurted out hysterically. “In this?”
Ash motioned for us to calm down, like there was nothing to get worked up about. “I told the mayor to call the city Power Supervisor over at Clean Energy to turn the juice on here. Something like that just takes a little time. Relax. The Power Supervisor will listen to him.”
“Ash is right,” a raspy voice declared. We all swiveled to see Nimrod standing off to the side. “We just need to wait one minute longer.”
Ash nodded at the man. “Glad you decided to join us. Where’ve you been?”
Nimrod pointed down at his leg, a hunk of meat and mangled augmetics held together by straps and some duct tape. “I was delayed,” he said, eyeing me. “You and I will talk, boy. Soon.”
So I had that to look forward to.
“Later,” Ash said. “Now, are we sure the Power Supervisor will listen to the mayor?”
Nimrod smirked. “I paid him a visit. Told him he’d be getting a call from the mayor, and that if he didn’t juice up the location the mayor gave him, I’d pay him another visit.”
“And?” Agravaine asked, clearly unimpressed.
Nimrod dug around inside his singed bearskin cloak. He withdrew a small item wrapped in a napkin; handed it to Ash, who raised it so we could all see. It was a finger, all bruised-looking and just plain nasty. Nimrod favored us with another ugly smirk. “He’ll turn the power on.”
He batted aside a stray fireball with his metallic right hand. A few seconds later, while we were all cowering under that awning, something beeped, and the distinctive whining hum of electricity powering up gave us all a jolt of sunshiny happiness.
The coding-slot was now sporting a blinking red light. “Try it now,” Nimrod said. Ash slid the key card through. A few tense moments—then the red light winked out, replaced by a green light.
Ash shoved on the massive glass and steel doors. They didn’t budge.
“Move,” Nimrod growled.
All three Morai shuffled aside, careful to avoid stepping outside the scant safety zone offered by the awning. The big yahoo with the animal fur fetish lunged at the doors. They gave. He stepped inside first. I watched Ash to see how he’d handle this one-upmanship. He accepted it with grace, meekly following Nimrod inside. What was their deal? Ash never showed anyone deference, except this crazy looking Nimrod guy.
We started heading in when someone screamed behind us. Officer Lent was dancing around, trying to reach over his shoulders. During his breakneck twirling, I saw that his back was on fire. Brimstone had wedged between his armor and was now boring its way into flesh.
“Oh man,” I ran back outside to try and put him out, but he was in the throes of death now. The screams were horrific. I wanted to cover my ears. Instead, I tried to get close enough to knock poor Officer Lent down.
“Calm down,” I kept yelling at him. But he wouldn’t calm down. “Help me!” I yelled back at the others. They were all standing there, watching. “What’s wrong with you? Help him!”
“He’s dead,” Ash said in a terrifyingly calm manner. “Put him out of his misery, Nimrod.”
Nimrod drew the pistol from Officer Grahams’ holster (which Ash had been carrying), and fired two shots dead center into Officer Lents’ face.
The man dropped instantly.
I gawked, then ran up to Ash and screamed in his face. “What the hell was that? We could’ve saved him.” But the shrimp wasn’t listening; his focus was on something across the way, back at the parking garage. I turned around, trying not to let panic take over.
“Is that Morgan?” Agravaine asked. “What is he doing here?”
“I told you,” Ash said, standing beside me under the awning. “There is more at work here than you know.” He turned to Nimrod, who was staring at his kill. “Bring the body inside. Corpses invite attention.”
“Everybody inside,” Nimrod growled as he dragged the fresh corpse in after Ash. (The fire had been put out when Lent fell dead on his back.)
I dragged myself in after them. What choice did I have?
The doors squeaked closed behind us; electronic locks clicked into place.
As soon as they had sealed shut, the roar of the brimstorm died and silence reigned. We stood there, eight yahoos and one corpse. I was finally inside Mythcorp—and I couldn’t have been more disgusted.
“Let’s just find your frigging sorcerer, already.”
Chapter 33
“Hurry up, Kana,” my hands were jittering from withdrawal. “The gangster-people up there aren’t falling for my ploy. And Izzy looks like she’s about to pass out.”
“No I don’t,” Izzy retorted.
“It’s okay to admit you’re scared,” I said. “I’m a smidge bit ruffled myself here if we’re being honest—whoa.” I flinched and just managed to sidestep a dart that had been heading for my sniffer. “They’re getting closer.” I backed up tight to the wall.
“Yeah,” Faustus was standing on the edge of the dock, dancing idiotically, daring the shooters to hit him. No matter how many darts flew his way, he easily dodged each one, making a game of it. “Hoo-boy! You were way off on that one, bub. Here, I won’t look. Try hitting me now.” Unbelievably, Faustus clamped a hand over his eyes. Even more unbelievably, every dart fired missed.
Out of nowhere a dark blue sphere about the size of a baseball whizzed through the air and struck the overhead door Kana was failing to open. It stuck fast. Another sticky bomb, only this one had a digital timer, and it was swiftly counting down from ten ticks.
“Hey!” Faustus ran up to the bomb, pointing at it. “Cool. It’s just like the ones Batman used in Hong Kong in the Dark Knight. He was up—”
“Get down,” Kana tackled him to the concrete pad as far from the bomb as she could get, while I did the same with Izzy. Unlike Kana with the gingersnap, I was able to completely cover Izzy, which ma
de me feel all heroic and stuff.
KABOOM!
The sticky bomb didn’t actually make that sound. I expected to be covered with flaming debris (I was even looking forward to shoving it off and looking like a total badass) but there was no debris, flaming or otherwise.
A dart twanged into the sole of my shoe and remained there while I hoisted Izzy and dragged her through the gaping hole. I wasn’t sure if the dart had pierced my foot, but I saw no reason to linger on the loading bay/target zone.
For some inexplicable reason Izzy was trying to fight me off, almost like she didn’t want to be carried. Girls are so weird. Barely managing to hang on to the squirming chick, I tripped over a jagged section of the decimated door. We toppled inside. Though I managed to hang on to Izzy, she didn’t seem too grateful; she thanked me by yanking on my hair and neck and shoving me away. I whipped around as something huge heaved up onto the loading dock.
“Malthus,” I relaxed.
The big galoot stomped into the doorway, kicking out what remained of the overhead door. He raised his mechanical hand and caught the monster emergency door as it clattered down from the ceiling. He held it up just long enough for Faustus to duck inside, dragging Kana.
All safely indoors now, Malthus stepped in too, and dropped that bad boy behind him. It crashed with the boom bang of a train derailing. He glanced at a scrap of paper in his hand, threw it down at me before stomping over to Kana, who was conked out, ten or twelve darts sticking out of her torso. She looked like a pin cushion, only prettier.
“You okay?” I asked Izzy, who nodded. I picked up Malthus’ discarded note and read it. “Directional grenade. Wow, that was awfully convenient. You just happen to be carrying that around with you?”
The demon didn’t answer.
Faustus finished plucking the darts from Kana’s body. Turning to Malthus, he said, “Darn good to see you, big guy.” He embraced the demon. His arms didn’t reach even reach around.
Things went quiet. The gurgling of the dying storm, the rabble of traffic and the howling of the wind were muted with the closing of the emergency door. We all just stood there looking at each other and up at the cavernous warehouse here at the back of Mythcorp. All we could hear was the hum of lights flicking on and our own erratic wheezes.
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