“No,” I said. “That’s amazing. But . . . there’s something else that’s been bothering me.”
“What’s that?”
“Why was he frozen in the first place? I mean, I understand the world became frightened and fed up with Mythcorp, but why would the government spend the energy and money to preserve the one man who could make it all possible again someday? I mean, if you’re right about him being cryogenically preserved up there, then that means the city and the government has been sending at least some electricity into this building, to power his life support equipment. Right? And if he is so powerful, how did they manage to capture Crowley in the first place? It doesn’t make sense.”
Ash paused for the briefest of moments, his hand freezing on the railing. I thought he might slug me or something, but he just stared. “Like I said,” in a whisper, “there is more going on here than you know.”
Just as we reached the exit to the twelfth floor, a series of shouts drew my attention. I leaned far out over the railing. People were stomping up the stairs in a hurry, screaming at other people chasing them.
“Look out,” Ash yanked me back from the railing a moment before a streak of purple lightning sizzled by, right where my face had been. “Time to go,” he said, drawing me through the door onto twelve.
Chapter 34
Castor/I ducked and pivoted through the hive of buzzing rounds. I couldn’t control my limbs, but there wasn’t any pain either, so it was a trade off. The end of the corridor was a smidge brighter. Castor/I headed for it, convinced that was where Kana and Malthus had run off to.
Running. Dodging. Cursing.
A few ticks later we reached the end of the hallway. Flights of stairs ran up on either side, and straight ahead lay the wide open atrium. It was empty and silent.
‘What happened to everyone?’ Marie wondered, hovering in the center of the atrium.
Castor/I scanned the room. Ahead and to the right lay the body of a police officer on the marble floor; jagged pieces of some former Mythcorp nick-nack lay strewn about it. Castor/I tiptoed forwards, heading for the body. Ten feet away the image resolved. ‘Crispy,’ Castor mused. ‘The brimstorm?’
“Run!”
At the sound of Kana’s shrill voice Castor/I turned and ran, heading away from the approaching tiny woman. Kana had her dirks out. Glimpses behind us revealed the alluring facts that her tight black spandex pants had been torn to shreds and she’d lost her over-shirt at some point, leaving only a snug pink t-shirt to conceal her . . . assets.
“Don’t stop,” she yelled as Castor/I paused to take better stock of her revealed hotness.
We’d turned the corner and made our way to the bottom of the left hand stairway when a crash shook the entire floor. Even the glass chandelier hanging high overhead clattered. Nimrod and Malthus flew into the center of the atrium, barreling right through the railing of the other set of stairs.
Nimrod struggled to his feet, tearing himself free of the demons’ grasp. Malthus leaned back and kicked the Hunter in his well-endowed gut, sending him flying across the floor. He landed on Kana.
The tiny woman grunted and uttered something that sounded like: “Sething god-slammed kritter, get the fug off me!” before thrusting him off and into an easel advertising a Mythicon sale. Castor/I gawked from behind the cast iron railing as Kana and Malthus circled the Hunter. They looked ready to pounce when Nimrod ripped a grenade from an inner pocket all whiz-bang like and tore the pin out, instantly releasing a noxious vapor. Kana backed away. Castor/I could only guess what the big galoot Malthus was up to on the other side of the toxic cloud.
“Stay back,” Kana warned us, holding out a little girl-sized hand.
As if we were hasty to jump in and face off against the Mighty Hunter. We weren’t that stupid. We were however getting ready to stand and see if maybe Malthus had taken care of business. But just as Kana gave us the hand again, the bullets started flying.
Kana deflected one that otherwise would have given me a nose job. The deflected slug ricocheted and struck the glass of the front door before bouncing to the floor. It didn’t even make a hairline crack in the glass.
The bullets were really flying now, in every frigging direction. It was all Kana could do to keep them from ripping us all kinds of new holes, her dirks whizzing round in impossible arcs. Meanwhile Malthus was growling and using a bust of Alexander to protect his face as he rushed the Hunter. But no one could get close for the lingering vapor that wrinkled the nose even from fifteen feet away.
Without warning, Castor thrust us up and forward, towards the reeking death cloud. On the way someone body-checked us and we smacked face-first to the floor. “Stay down!” Kana shouted.
We stayed down, but Castor thrust our arm out and, just as Kana redirected a bullet, pressed the no-no button on the back of the crow-head. Purple lightning shot out, pierced the vaporous cloud and grappled with the baddie inside.
The barrage ended in the same instant that the cane emitted its final energy arc.
As the cloud slowly dissipated, Castor/I rose to our feet. Kana approached the evaporating fog, dirks raised. She reminded me of Andraste, the Romano-Celtic warrior goddess we’d been learning about in History class. Malthus, on the other hand, looming in the cloud, reminded me of some awful Goya painting. I pitied Nimrod.
My pity was premature.
A dart whizzed out of the cloud and sank into the meat of Kana’s neck. She paused, head tilted, before toppling backwards. Castor/I caught her in the nick of time. In response to this assault, Malthus leaped into the air, landing with a sickening crunch.
He landed on an empty floor.
Leaning over, searching for his foe, Malthus abruptly crumpled as Nimrod dropped onto his back. Lying flat, a hiss escaped the demon’s mouth. Castor/I shrieked (I think it was mostly Castor who screamed) and tried to drag the unconscious Kana away.
But we didn’t have the strength.
Nimrod looked over at us from his position atop Malthus. He grinned. I didn’t cringe at the gruesome sight, but only because I didn’t have control over my faculties. As Malthus struggled beneath the fatty-patty, Nimrod reached around, withdrew a six-inch serrated stiletto. He raised it and plunged it into Malthus’ left cheek (face, not butt).
Malthus growled and writhed like a bear in a trap.
“Give me a second here, boy,” Nimrod sneered. “I’ll get to you soon enough.”
We tried the no-no button one more time, but the reserves were empty. All that came out was a pathetic fizzle, maybe two volts worth of electricity. We left Kana and Malthus, I am ashamed to say, and ran, up the stairs, slipping every so often in our haste to flee the Mighty Hunter.
We just kept climbing, until we’d lost track of what floor we were on. Finally, I thought to Castor, It’s time. Get out of me.
For three ticks it felt like someone was ripping my organs out through my pores, and then I was free of my spook. I crumpled against the railing. Across from me was an exit. The door had a big fat black number 7 painted on it. “Seven floors,” I panted.
‘Look,’ Marie said, panic creeping into her voice.
“Oh man, what now?” I whined. “I can hardly move my fingers.” But I followed Marie’s direction. The stairwell was remarkably broad, and in the center was a two-foot wide gap through which you could look up or down. It was up through this gap that I stood peering.
On the nearby stairwell, maybe two flights up, a smattering of ragged spooks was loitering.
“Sanson,” I whispered. “They are already here, then. Keep a watch on them, Marie.”
The spook looked petrified at the thought, but ascended anyway.
‘Quit your yammering,’ Castor ordered. ‘We’re not out of the game yet. The sorcerer won’t fall as easily to that pipsqueak Morai as Ash thinks. But if you don’t get up off your lazy ass and beat them to the cryonics lab, then you might as well toss your sorry sack over that railing right now.’
The scarred spook was be
nt over at the waist, looking as spent as I felt—which gave me a warm feeling inside. Spook/human merging seems to wipe out both parties equally.
I dug inside my front jeans pocket for a B-drop. My fingers had just brushed the wrapper of the last righteous lovely, when I heard footsteps. They were coming from the hall outside the exit. I raised my cane and put my finger to the no-no button. This act was becoming reflex.
My whole frame jerked back as the door was thrown open. Faustus shifted to the left as he entered the landing. He set Izzy down, grabbed his chest and gasped. “Cheese and crackers. I thought you were one of them. Where the flip have you been?”
“Where was I? Where were you? Nimrod frigging tore us up down there.”
Izzy’s peepers were scanning my body, which, any other time, might have been dynamite. Faustus wasn’t paying attention. “Where’s Kana?” He stepped over to me, pulled me up by my flannel.
“In the atrium.”
He dropped me. I caught myself against the railing as he headed down the stairs. “You can’t leave and you can’t help her. Nimrod . . . he . . .”
“He what? Don’t start stuttering now, Mister Flamingo.”
I looked down at Izzy, who looked away. Faustus was in my face, or the nearest alternative, as he was half-a-head shorter. “What about Nimrod? Did he hurt Kana? I’ll kill him, and then resurrect him so I can kill him again.”
“She’s just conked out,” I explained. “A dart. I don’t think he’ll hurt her. He was more interested in Malthus. Man, I can’t believe he got the better of the big guy.”
“You left Kana with that monster?” Izzy accused.
Castor laughed. He was now standing erect and floating over the gap between the stairs. ‘I wonder if she’s referring to Nimrod, or to Malthus?’
Faustus puffed out his chest. “I’m going to help them.”
I moved to stop him, but even as I did this we all heard footsteps clopping up the steps.
“Is that Malthus?” Izzy flicked her fingers around nervously.
Faustus shook his head. “If it were Malthus, we wouldn’t be seeing a shadow,” he pointed at the black silhouette darkening the stairwell below. “I have to go see that Kana’s okay.”
I grabbed his shoulder and squeezed. “You can’t.”
Faustus shrugged out of my grasp. “Don’t tell me what I can’t do. This is your fault. You were the one who conned us into coming. If she dies I will drag you back to the King’s Court and have Waldo finish you off.” He made for the stairs again.
I flipped the cane around, gripping the bottom, and swung the silver-crow-head at Faustus’ right ankle. His leg jerked and he swiveled around, avoiding my well-aimed swing. “You hear that?” I asked.
He couldn’t help himself. “That’s the sound of a thousand terrible things, heading our way. Qui-Gon Jinn said that in Episode One, the Phantom Menace.”
“Yeah. But in our case, it’s the sound of just one terrible thing: a maniacal hunter who wants nothing more than to add all our heads to his trophy room.” I looked back at Izzy, who was peeping through the iron railing down at the Nimrod shadow.
“But we still don’t know where the cryonics lab is.”
I nodded. “No, but Castor does.” I’d actually given this a bit of thought during my break.
“Castor?” asked Faustus.
“One of my spooks,” I said as we started creeping down the hallway. “He was an Iconocop.” The hall was a carpeted deal even darker than the stairwell. Moonlight trickling in through skinny windows set in the doors was our only light. “Castor, where is the cryonics lab?”
‘Why should I help you?’ he asked, hovering along beside us.
“He’s here right now?” Izzy wondered. She sounded like maybe she was over her Morgan-hating period. “Am I walking where he’s . . . ghosting around?”
“No,” I smiled, “you’re good. He’s over here.” I gestured to my right where Castor floated. We’d almost made a complete circuit of the hallway by then. I could see the stairway door exit sign through which we’d come. “If you help us,” I said to Castor, “maybe we can get the sorcerer to help you cross over or whatever.”
He mused—or at least pretended to muse—on this. ‘Twelfth floor, northeast corner.’
“Twelfth floor, northeastern corner.”
“Good—” Faustus froze. I followed his gaze behind us; standing a few yards away, bleeding, was Nimrod. Faustus yelled. “Boy I hate being right all the time.” He hoisted Izzy without asking permission, and whisked her towards the door. The Hunter pursued. We burst through the door and tore up the stairs. I grimaced at the agony in my leg, like it was filled with glass shards.
A few dozen risers away from the eleventh floor landing, when I was ready to drop dead, Marie fluttered down from the ceiling. ‘They’re waiting for you outside the doors on the twelfth. Get out at the next landing.’
“Thanks Marie.”
Chapter 35
Sanson
Officer Graham must’ve been fighting the Mesmer; climbing the stairs behind him, I could see his hands shaking, and every couple steps his right leg would jerk and he’d have to grab the railing to keep from falling.
It occurred to me then, there in the lightless stairwell, that this man’s resilience might come in handy, and that if I were to place the chem-shades on his face, we might just turn the tables on these pale-faced yahoos. I had to get my curse lifted before I could stage a rebellion, though.
Hang on, Officer Graham, we’ll avenge your partner’s murder before the night is through.
“One more flight and we’re there,” Ash chirped. He was in excellent spirits, but then, aren’t most homicidal maniacs? “Okay, you first,” he commanded Officer Graham when we reached the door to twelve.
The officer removed his pistol. He concealed his shakes by gripping the gun with both hands and keeping it pressed to his thigh. He shoved on the push bar. Moonlight spilled into the stairwell. Seconds later the cop called out: “All clear.”
I followed Ash through out onto the empty floor. “Where are Agravaine and Lamorak?”
“Right here,” Agravaine called from behind us. Officer Graham raised his pistol and aimed at the approaching Morai. They stopped cold. “Whoa.”
Ash placed his hand on the officers’ arm, forcing him to lower his weapon. “Calm yourself.” He turned to his brothers-in-crime. “I assume you found the cryonics lab?” They nodded, still watching the officer with worry in their eyes. “Good. Now, Officer Graham, if you don’t mind I’d like you to stay here and guard this door. Don’t let anyone but Nimrod through. Understand?”
Officer Graham, having no alternative, nodded.
“Excellent,” Ash smiled. He turned to Agravaine and raised his hand, “Lead on, then.”
I, having no alternative, followed the three Morai down the hall towards the cryonics lab.
Sporadic moonbeams seeping through dust-filmed windows did nothing to dispel the sensation that I was walking through a dream. Not the kind of dream you enjoy and want to continue dreaming, but the kind where something so terrible and visceral happens that it transcends its dream-confines and effects your real life: you fall out of bed and smash your head on the hardwood floor.
The beige industrial carpet lining the hallway muffled our footsteps. For this small mercy I was grateful. Last thing I needed was a barrage of hair-raising echoes.
It was too silent. The Morai aren’t big on small talk. “So what’s the deal with Nimrod and that huge beast thing?” I said. “I mean, what’s up with that? Are they jealous of each other, did Nimrod steal a girl from him, call him the Hulk, talk about his momma?”
“Nimrod stole Malthus’ DEW,” Ash answered after a pause.
We rounded the corner, losing sight of Officer Graham. “Um,” I said. “I know it’s not cool to steal another dudes’ pop, but . . .”
“No,” Ash answered. “DEW. Dee Eee Double-you. Directed-energy-weapon. Based on Tesla’s ray gun design. He
stole it from the demon almost sixteen years ago and Malthus has never gotten over it.”
Hmmph. “Talk about holding a grudge.”
“We’re here,” Agravaine stopped us in front of a monstrous stainless steel door. Engraved in a blue plate attached to the door at eye level was the single, evil word: CRYONICS.
The two bigger Morai were looking at Ash with identical mystifying expressions. Ash withdrew the golden key card he’d used on the front doors. Without pausing he slid it into the code-reader on the big door.
The light on the digital screen bleeped and turned green. The words KEY CARD ACCEPTED appeared on the screen while below it a one-inch diameter slip of metal withdrew, revealing an old school key hole. Below that was a secondary red light.
Ash sighed. “Any ideas?”
“Get the cop to shoot it out?” Agravaine offered. Obviously, he wasn’t here for his smarts.
Lamorak snorted at him. “Shoot. It. Out? Do you have any idea what’s inside a cryonics lab? No, of course you don’t. You’re failing science.” His insult complete, Lamorak turned to Ash. “We can’t shoot or blow our way through this door, but you told me the demon has megabomb strength.”
“That’s right,” Ash said.
“I’ll bet Agravaine’s left nut Malthus could shove right through this door without damaging anything inside,” Lamorak explained.
All three Morai stopped moving and simply traded looks. Twenty seconds later Ash spoke up. “Right. Even I probably couldn’t Mesmerize that one. So, any other ideas?”
“Knox.” Lamorak and Agravaine said. Ash nodded.
“Who’s Knox?” I asked. No answer. It was like I wasn’t even there.
“They’re coming for Knox. We let the demon bust through,” Ash began. “Let them take Knox,” Agravaine continued. “And then, when they’re out of the way, we simply waltz in and wake the sorcerer,” Lamorak finished. More shudder-worthy silence as they looked at each other. Ash then resumed the conversation as if it had never ended. “If they try to wake Knox inside, we’ll intercede. And if they try to take Crowley—”
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