by M. T. Miller
“Yes, sir,” the guard said. He hesitated on his next sentence. “For how—“
“I am well aware of how crucial those positions are,” said the Nameless. “Tell these men, David, or whoever it is that you also report to that they will be free to return to their positions by as early as midnight.”
He turned to Rush. “Unless we learn something particularly disruptive down there.”
Chapter Twelve
The body had been found in yet another alley. The mess left by the killer was always nauseating, but this time it was particularly gruesome. Blood, organs, and pieces of bone littered not just the walls, but a good part of the nearby street.
The victim was completely unidentifiable.
“Why now?” the Nameless grumbled.
“Why ever?” Rush carefully stepped closer, minding her step so as not to disturb the crime scene too much.
I can think of a few reasons, he thought as he turned to the closest guard. There were a total of five of them, and they were in the process of marking and securing the crime scene. Making us seem weak, or weakening us outright. Revenge. Pure chance. Dragging you and me out of the pyramid. He scowled. Both he and Rush were deadly combatants, but there was no world in which they’d do a better job at protecting someone than a force of trained security guards.
“We didn’t touch a thing, sir,” the guard said. Among the members of his unit, he alone was not busy with some part of police procedure. “Neither did anyone else, for that matter. This area is now a civilian-free zone, as per your order.”
“Well done,” said the Nameless. “I presume that we know nothing of the victim.”
“You’re right on mark, sir,” the guard said. “Could be someone from the outskirts. They’re not all that regular in their interactions with Circle-folk. One of them disappears, sometimes it takes weeks for ‘em to turn up missing. Hell, this could be two victims for all we know.”
“And of course, no one suspicious was seen entering or leaving this area?” the Nameless asked.
“Whoever or whatever this killer is,” the guard said, “he’s smart. Never attacks in well-patrolled areas, and his choice of timing couldn’t possibly be better. No, sir, eyewitnesses are a big negative.” He looked at the bloody mess. “Unless you count this.”
It no longer has any eyes. The Nameless turned to Rush. “Anything useful?”
“Actually yes,” she said, rising with both hands bloodied. “You’re not gonna like it, though.”
“Go on,” said the Nameless.
“Body isn’t fresh.” Rush sniffed her forearm with an expression of disgust. A piece of meat fell off and joined the slushy mass below.
The Nameless raised both eyebrows. “Explain.”
“It’s been made to look recently killed, Bones.” She pointed her arms downward. “But it’s not. It’s been kept and gnawed on somewhere else, then dropped here. Almost like a—“
“A distraction.” The Nameless’ eyebrows met. The forensics unit alone would’ve been able to determine the fakeness of the crime scene. If the point of this was to cover the killer’s tracks, it had failed. However…
The Nameless looked toward the pyramid. Rush did the same.
“You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?” she asked.
“Definitely.” The Nameless hurriedly gestured for her to step out of the muck.
“But that place is loaded with cops,” she said as she took her place beside him. A guard handed her a towel, which she wiped her hands with. “Nothing could break through that security, and I do mean nothing.”
“What about the windows?” asked the Nameless, straining his vision.
Rush’s eyes narrowed as well. They moved left and right, up and down, a pair of violet embers in the night. Then, they focused on a single point, and her mouth went agape.
“Bones…” she gasped. “The snipers.”
“Three of them, yes,” the Nameless said.
“More like zero.” Rush said. “All dead. Far as I can tell, spotters as well.”
The Nameless gritted his teeth. “The emissaries’ window lies wide open, then. Do you see it?”
It took just one second for Rush to start running toward the pyramid. “In pieces, Bones! As broken as this fucker’ll be when I grab ‘im!”
“Stay here! Do your jobs!” the Nameless said to the guards before he started sprinting as well.
***
Up on the third floor, the Nameless could barely hear his own thoughts. Rush had him beaten by one lift ride, but it didn’t take long for him to make her out in the crowd.
“What happened here?” he shouted, causing the men to hug the walls and free up a good chunk of the corridor. He didn’t need a verbal answer. The sight of a bloody, yet still-upright Chastity as she strode toward him was enough for the moment.
Her skin and robes were soaked red, but the way she moved told him it was not hers. Her sticky hair clung to her shoulders and back, while in her hands she clutched what could only be a severed head. Her shades were gone, her silvery stare judging everyone present.
As she approached, the Nameless noticed the other bodies. There were at least twenty, their muscles, bones and organs torn to pieces and left to die in the worst agony imaginable. Most of them were guards. At least one was an unfortunate passerby.
Chastity stood before the Nameless. She let him take a good look at the head she held. It belonged to one of the other priests.
“Are…” the Nameless’ train of thought broke when he noticed that Rush was moving. He chose to ignore it for the moment. Chastity would have questions. “Are there any survivors on your end?”
“You’re looking at her,” Chastity said before dropping the head at his feet. The blood and other fluids splashed his shoes and pants, but he didn’t flinch. This was his mistake.
Or was it?
He followed Rush with his eyes before he noticed the way the bodies were arranged. Apparently, the killer had entered through the window, massacred Chastity’s group, then fled through the hallway. Even if the Nameless and Rush were there, they probably wouldn’t have been able to prevent this disaster.
But we would have prevented the assailant from fleeing, he realized, his eyes now meeting those of the nun.
“What was it?” he asked without a hint of courtesy. If there was any diplomacy left to salvage here, David and SIM would do it. He reminded himself of the relative location of their office. Given that it had neither windows nor a hidden way in, they should be safe. Unless whatever this is gets in through the penthouse opening.
He faced a guard before the nun could answer. “Take half of these men and have them watch the penthouse stairs.”
“Yes, sir,” the guard said as he marched away with some ten more policemen.
The Nameless spoke to Chastity again. “More importantly, why has is spared you?”
“Your questions have a single answer,” she said. She was about to continue, but the way the Nameless rocked his head toward Rush caused her to turn around as well.
“Down heeeeeere!” The words echoed across the hall as the purple streak of Rush’s hair disappeared, along with the rest of her, down the nearby trash chute.
The Nameless ran toward it as quickly as he could, Chastity close behind. The remaining guards were not so enthusiastic. No surprise, given what had happened to their colleagues.
“Will you follow, sir?” a guard asked.
The Nameless was about to give an affirmative answer, when an idea popped into his head. Rush had the killer’s scent. Regardless of the third floors’ air conditioning, smells were more likely to linger here than they were on the outside. Whatever it was they had missed down in the Circle, was now within reach. Or at least in Rush’s reach.
“Send word to everyone still stationed in the slums’ junkyard,” he told the guard. “Bring down everyone from this floor, aside from the governor’s own security. Tell them to remain as alert as possible, and to let nothing out, no matter what it loo
ks, sounds, or acts like.” He turned toward Chastity, then back to the guard. “Unless it is Rush. If you see her, provide all the support we can. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir!” the guards shouted in unison as they ran toward the elevator hub.
“So,” Chastity said once they were alone, “are you going to follow her or not?”
“Not via chute,” the Nameless said as he grabbed her by the wrist. She didn’t struggle. “Rush can take care of herself.”
Chastity hovered her free hand over the bodies. “So could they.”
I must play this smart. The Nameless inhaled. “There is something else I must check before we head down. You will accompany me along the way. Will we have a problem with that?”
“No,” she said, letting her other hand slip into her bloodstained robe.
“Let us move, then,” the Nameless said as he led her toward an altogether different room.
***
“Answers!” the Nameless shouted as he dragged Chastity through a corridor by hand. Door numbers flashed left and right, and the one he looked for was still long off.
“It’s one of my nuns,” she said, causing the Nameless to stop moving. “She did this.”
A name sprung to mind immediately. “Annabelle?” he asked, his face an inch away from hers.
Chastity’s stare was unblinking. “Yes. The cannibal.”
Remembering that he had little time to waste, the Nameless resumed his stride forward. He still held her by the wrist.
“Annabelle could not have done this on her own,” he said. “Ten of her couldn’t. Not even if given firearms.”
“Something has happened to her.” There was a hint of fear in Chastity’s voice. “Something horrifying. My mercenaries fired at her like mad, and stood no chance. From what I could see, your policemen were little different.”
“And you just happened to be spared?” the Nameless asked.
“Actually, yes,” Chastity said. “I did save her life back in the Underbelly. Perhaps she remembers it.”
Or maybe this is a set up to give you excuse for another war. “So, what is Annabelle now? Another Saint?”
Chastity slowed her pace. At first, the Nameless kept tugging, but then he stopped moving as well.
“This might be difficult for you to believe,” she said once he faced her again. “But I do get distressed. I just had all my allies in this city massacred before my eyes, and must place my trust in a deicidal psychopath!” She gritted her pearly teeth. “So you must forgive me if I am not completely composed.”
The Nameless let go of her arm. “I take it you can follow me on your own.”
“I can.”
“Then let us go,” he said as they continued moving.
“Annabelle is no Saint,” Chastity said. “She never got her Baptism. Empowerment, or whatever you’d like to call it. The Holy One never made her into a receptacle for divine power, as they did us.”
“What is she, then?” the Nameless asked.
“I would tell you if I knew. I…” Chastity fumbled her words. “This… this is difficult to explain.”
“Try.”
“Everything was off about her,” Chastity said. “From her shape to the way she… felt. You are a creature of faith, of magic yourself, Nameless. You should know what I am talking about.”
The mind’s eye. The Nameless had spent months trying to open himself to the ebb and flow of invisible power that permeated existence. He had succeeded, but only partially.
“You can sense something unnatural within her,” he said.
“In a way, she feels like the Holy One.” Chastity pronounced the words carefully, as if she feared retribution. “But her movements, the way her body shifted as she massacred those men…” She paused for a moment. “It was, in a word, demonic.”
“You will have to elaborate,” the Nameless said as he extended a hand for them to stop. They now stood in front of Emile’s suite.
“I can’t,” she shrugged. “It was… something. Swaying shapes. Sprays of blood. Perhaps my mind was playing tricks on me. All I can say is, she changed between human and something that clearly wasn’t.”
The Nameless didn’t have time to consider her words. He needed to check on Emile. However small the chance, it was possible that he was somehow involved. Or at least knew something. Regardless, having the priest (and his expertise on matters of death) available could only be a boon.
The Nameless kicked the door in while pulling out his pistol. There was no need for it. Emile was heavily intoxicated and completely harmless. With a vacant stare, he relaxed on a chair in the center of the apartment. His right hand hung below his hip, gripping a bottle of liquor. Both his legs lay on the table, crossed at the shins. His decency (if one might call it that) was protected by a buttoned-down white shirt and a plain set of boxers.
“Nameless!” he exclaimed with glee before his expression turned into a frown. “Ah. What is she doing here?”
“Diplomatic talks,” said the Nameless. “Or have you forgotten?”
“I didn’t mean that!” Emile took a chug, then let the bottle hang again.
Someone helped him smuggle it in, the Nameless thought. I will have to investigate later.
“I’m drunk, not stupid,” Emile said. “I mean, what the fuck is this bitch doing in my room?”
“There has been a security breach,” the Nameless said. “You would not know anything about it, now, would you?”
Emile slowly straightened himself up as he put the bottle on the table. “Was it bad?” He smiled when he finally realized that Chastity’s robe was bloody. “How many dead?”
“All except her.” The Nameless refrained from looking at Chastity. Whether or not she was furious, this was not the time to take sides. “Some twenty of our own as well. Does that make you happy too?”
Emile’s smile waned. He rose, nearly stumbling as he stepped toward them. “What can I do? I’m wasted, or can’t you see?”
“It is not about what you can do,” said the Nameless. “It is about what you will do. You are on duty, Emile, as are we all. The fact that you got drunk—contrary to my orders, no less—does not free you from your obligations.” He pointed to the elevator hub. “You can walk, crawl, or hobble, but one way or the other, you will descend with us.”
Emile ground his teeth. “I refuse to work with that bleached-out sow.”
“You can and you will,” the Nameless said flatly. “Consider it your remuneration for getting drunk on duty.”
Emile grumbled. No one understood what he said, but they didn’t need to. The way he shambled toward the door was answer enough.
Chapter Thirteen
Had the Nameless not forced the two to speak, the elevator would have likely been deathly silent. As it was, the distaste Chastity and Emile had for each other bled from every word they uttered.
“That doesn’t make a lick of sense!” Emile said, unleashing alcoholic vapors with each exhalation.
“That does not make it untrue!” Chastity argued.
“Frankly, I find this insulting,” Emile said. “We went to war with you guys. Scraped our brain matter smooth in outwitting you and turning the whole thing our way. And then you lot supposedly get slaughtered by a scrawny redneck girl?” He turned to the Nameless. “Come on! You don’t believe this shit, do you?”
There have to be eyewitnesses among the survivors—if there are any, the Nameless thought. He would question them later. “Whether I believe it or not is unimportant. What matters is that Rush has got the killer’s scent, and is pursuing her across the first floor. I have sent nearly everyone we have to provide support. I reason there should be nowhere for her to run.” Assuming reason applies anymore.
“The Holy One,” Chastity mumbled to herself.
“Loser,” Emile slurred.
“What about it?” the Nameless asked.
“Back when you… slew the Holy One,” Chastity said, “we panicked. Our most basic instincts took over, a
nd we faithful fled the Underbelly like rats would a sinking ship. It took weeks for most of us to return to our senses, and it took even longer for others. Care to guess what our first rational thought was?”
The Nameless mused for a second. “Your savior’s body.”
“Correct,” Chastity said. “Of course, it wasn’t there. At first, we assumed someone had it stolen. Kept it as a trophy or for ransom. It never resurfaced.” She paused. “The fact that I feel the Holy One within Annabelle leads me to another conclusion, however. One with unpleasant implications.”
The Nameless’ stomach tightened. Whether it was his own, natural reaction, or a remnant of what Father Light did to him, he couldn’t tell. “You are not suggesting…”
“That is exactly what I am suggesting,” she said.
“Well, shit,” said Emile.
No one spoke until the lift touched down. When it opened, they were greeted by a pair of guards. The men were young, and were likely still in training. One of them bore a communications device; one of those two-way things the Nameless never cared enough to master.
“Report!” said the Nameless as he and the other two stepped out.
“Sheriff!” both guards saluted, but only the one with the comm-device continued to speak. “We’ve got it, sir! Or rather, they do! The forward unit, I mean!”
“Where?” The Nameless stepped toward the young man, who in turn stepped back.
“Eas—eastern quadrant, sir! The old Chinese sword manufacturer! I can lead you to it if you want.”
One of Zhang’s old places. The Nameless turned east. “No need. I know where it is.”
“Any orders for us, then?” the guard asked.
“Stay put,” the Nameless said. “That device is linked with one at the scene, yes?”
“Right, sir!”
“Is Rush there?”
“She should be, sir,” the guard said. “I think I heard her over the comm.”
“Perfect,” said the Nameless as he set off. “Stay put and report if anything changes. Especially if you receive news from the governor or SIM.”