Detective of Home Office Security for England, Ronald Clement, spilled his coffee over the front of his shirt when the windows blew, ducking down behind a military van.
He touched his earpiece, but his eyes found his partner, Detective Henry George, first.
“What in God’s name was that?” he shouted. “I thought we had them trapped in the stairwell?”
Henry pointed to the penthouse, as if the smoke billowing out the top floor windows was explanation enough.
Clement tapped his headset pointedly. He felt the other detective click over, and immediately began to speak. “Henry? What happened?”
“Dunno. Where’s the head Yank? That’s their people, right?”
Another explosion blew out a set of windows on the penthouse floor.
Clement ducked, then watched in disbelief as furniture rained down, including what looked like a four foot head from a Buddha statue. It caved in the front of a police car as it landed, crushing windshield and bonnet neatly into the asphalt.
Clement barely had time to be grateful no one sat inside when the muffled sound of gunshots grew audible once more. Automatic rifles.
Henry motioned Clement to follow him behind a row of vehicles out of range of the falling debris. A woman in a dark, civilian suit stood there, drinking from a cup that came from a gourmet coffee chain and nodding to a man wearing the black uniform of the Sweeps. She didn’t stop speaking as they approached, although Clement saw her glance at them.
“Director Raven?” Henry said.
“...I don’t understand it, ma’am,” Clement heard the Sweep say to her. “Our people...half of them just collapsed. They won’t fight. The other half are completely out of control. They won’t listen to orders. Some even started shooting each another...”
The woman took a drink of her high-end coffee, her face unperturbed. “Gas the building with cyanide. If that doesn’t work, we’ll nuke the damned thing.”
Henry and Clement gaped at her, then at one another.
Even the Sweep looked confused. “Sir?”
“Kill them,” she snapped. “Do you hear me? This is no time to play footsie with her, not after what that bitch has done! Kill all of them!”
The man wearing the Sweep uniform saluted. Right before he turned to walk away, his face seemed to crumple strangely, turning almost childlike.
“How did this happen?” he said. “What will we do, now that we no longer have—”
“Pull yourself together, Agent,” she hissed. “Or you’ll join her.”
“Director Raven?” Henry said, louder.
Clement gave Henry an irritated look, mainly for interrupting his eavesdropping.
The woman, Raven, the hotshot seer they sent down from Central to run the iceblood units, turned. Her blue eyes glinted shockingly light, and she stood taller than Clement had realized, at least an inch taller than he did himself. She wore her hair long, unlike any other breed of agent Clement could recall. It hung like a dark curtain around her porcelain, Asian-looking face, nearly black in color. Her high cheekbones and almond eyes hinted at her seer blood, but apart from her height, she could have been human. A really beautiful human, for sure.
On her index finger, Clement saw a ring glint in the few wisps of sunlight.
It looked German to him. A six-pointed cross.
“I think you understand what needs to happen here, soldier,” she said to the Sweep, still staring at Clement. “It’s time to clean up. That means our side, too.”
The Sweep nodded, his eyes still holding that dense, childlike grief.
Clutching his helmet in one hand, he wandered back towards the building, as though lost.
Director Raven smiled at Clement, her shocking blue eyes still holding that odd focus. She held up the paper cup in a kind of salute.
“Coffee?” she said, raising a charcoaled eyebrow.
A chunk of cement hit the street, flattening a letter box. It broke in two, sending up a plume of white spray after the larger piece crushed a yellow fire hydrant.
Then Clement saw Henry freeze, his face drain of blood. Turning away from the woman and from Clement himself, he clutched his earpiece as he listened.
“Can you repeat?” he shouted. After a pause, he cursed. “So it’s a sure thing. He’s really dead...”
“Who?” Clement said, bending closer. “Who’s dead?”
“Ron!” Henry shouted, not hearing him. “They shot the U.S. President! Gunned him down in their own White House! Looks like the VP’s not going to make it either...”
“What?” Ronald Clement stared at his old friend.
Behind him, another explosion rocked the white building.
He and Henry both ducked. When Clement turned, looking for the person who had been standing there, drinking her designer coffee and smiling at him with that striking face, he couldn’t find her. He scanned the nearby crowd, looking past uniforms and the crush of onlookers gawking from the first set of barricades.
But Director Raven was gone.
32
BRIDGE
A FEW BLOCKS from Eaton Place, a manhole cover lifted softly from its resting place flush with the asphalt, revealing pale but dirty hands. As the cover rose higher, an equally dirty face grew visible, fitted with chocolate brown eyes and dusty black hair. The hands pushed the manhole cover to one side, planted themselves on the cement and hoisted up a muscular torso.
Maygar sat on the lip of the hole just long enough to get his balance.
He pulled up his legs behind him, then immediately reached back inside, clicking his fingers impatiently for someone to hand something up to where he could reach it. He glanced around as he caught hold of the clothing, then the arms of another, taller man and dragged him through the same opening. He pulled him clear, then laid him down on the pavement, frowning.
Bending over his inert form, he slapped him sharply on the cheek.
“No sleeping now, Rolf...wakey-wakey.” He slapped him harder, and the other man’s eyes flickered open. Once the clear irises could focus, he frowned.
“That’s right.” Maygar smiled. “It’s me, dickhead.”
“Oh, give it a rest, will you?” The girl climbing out of the hole had a long scar splitting her face and hair dyed bright red with several inches of black roots. She was helped up the last rungs by a long-haired man in a very dirty jacket that might once have been expensive, and a middle aged man with thinning hair and wire-rim glasses.
Behind them, another woman followed. She looked exhausted.
“Do we know where we are?” Cass said.
Maygar said, “No. But we’d best assume—”
“Wait,” Jon said. “Look.”
They all watched the woman who’d climbed out last.
Allie walked out into the middle of the street, aiming her feet towards a stretch limousine that had just turned the corner onto the small cul-de-sac where they all stood. She held up a hand...and the car came to a screeching halt.
The others exchanged looks, but only hesitated an instant before they picked up Revik and ran for the car. Maygar handed him off to Jon once they reached it, walking around to the driver’s side door. Sitting in the front seat, a man in a black suit and cap stared up and around at all of them, fear and confusion in his eyes.
“What the bloody hell—” he began.
Then his eyes went dead, like the power had been cut.
“Get out,” Maygar said.
The man obeyed.
Maygar, Eddard and Cass slid into the long front seat without waiting, locking the doors behind them. Jon climbed in the back with Allie and Revik. Putting the car in drive, Maygar wrenched the wheel, making the wide turn to get them flipped around and aimed towards the main road beyond the narrower stretch of buildings. Once he had, he saw a London police car pull up to block the entrance of the cobblestone road.
The eyes of the two cops looked crazed as they got out, like Night of the Living Dead crazed, and Maygar hesitated before craning his neck t
o look back at Allie.
“Two more, boss,” he said. “They’ve blocked the road.”
Allie glanced in the direction of the police car.
...and both officers fell to the ground in mid-walk.
Maygar stared, bewildered by the efficiency with which she’d done it, and to two seers, no less. Dehgoies couldn’t possibly have had time to train her so well.
He’d heard mates could sometimes take on one another’s skill sets...
Maygar pushed that thought from his mind as well, but not before it tightened his jaw, bringing a low surge of anger.
“Can you just knock it out of the way now?” Allie asked him.
He continued to stare at her.
“The police car, Maygar,” she said. “Can you knock it out of the way?”
Maygar nodded, turning back to face the wheel, and the road. “Aye, aye.”
He reached the parked cruiser a few seconds later, driving fast enough to feel a little reckless. The limo passed through the opening by slamming into the front end of the cop car hard enough to push it out of the way, crushing in the right fender and losing a long gouge of black paint in the process.
Allie said, “Guns only. At least for the next few hours.”
They all gave the woman in the back seat a nervous look.
“Sure thing, boss,” Maygar said, clicking in dark humor.
I GRIPPED THE armrest of the limo we’d stolen as Maygar began to wind his way through roads and turnpikes leading out of the city.
Funnily enough, I didn’t think much about the stealing part until then. It shocked me a little to realize how indifferent I’d gotten...even as I wondered whether the bar had anything to drink in the refrigerated compartment.
“Where are we going?” he said.
The voice asking was deep, with a German accent.
I glanced up, saw Revik looking at me. All of us had taken turns giving him light, but his eyes still looked glazed, faraway-seeming.
“India,” I said. “For now.” Remembering the others then, I looked between Cass and Jon, who sat in the front and the back of the car. “I have enough on my ident to send you both back to San Francisco, if you want.” I saw Cass’s eyes go flat just before I glanced at Jon. “...Only if you want. You can go anywhere.”
Jon said neutrally, “Anywhere but with you. Right, Al?”
I looked between them. “You know why I said that. God! You’d think I was the antichrist for not wanting to see either of you hurt again.”
Watching Jon’s mouth tighten as Cass gave me an outraged look, I exhaled in a sigh.
“You really want to come with us?” I said. “Hang out with a bunch of terrorist seers in the ass-end of a Third World country?”
Cass grinned. “What do you think?”
I looked at my brother, who only nodded. Seeing me beginning to relent, he leaned over to shove at my arm playfully.
“Besides...brother of terrorist. Hello? They’d put me in jail.”
“Me too,” Cass said cheerfully. “I’m a sympathizer.”
I shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “Okay. But so you know...India smells bad. I mean...open sewer bad. The water’s not right. No matter how many showers you take, you never really get clean like at home. I can’t promise we’ll be doing anything but hiding, either, so don’t expect this kind of excitement on a daily basis. And wait until you try seer food...”
I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t relieved though, and Cass laughed.
I glanced at Revik, wondering how he’d take to the idea of my friends coming along, but he wasn’t looking at my face. As I’d leaned down to open the refrigerator, the chain I wore fell out of my shirt. Following his eyes down to the silver ring that dangled there, I felt my face warm. Before I could tuck it back into my shirt, he reached out and cupped it in his hand.
There was a silence as he fingered it.
I took a breath when he didn’t speak.
“Terian gave it to me,” I said. “To convince me you were dead, I guess.”
Hesitating again, I reached back to unhook the clasp. Before I could find it with my fingers, though, he caught my wrist, stopping me.
I glanced up. Seeing his face tighten, I swallowed.
“Don’t you want it back?” I said.
“No.” His eyes left the ring, meeting mine. For a moment he only looked at me, then he gestured vaguely, clearing his throat. “...It was my mother’s. My real mother’s.”
He paused again, as if unsure what to say next.
“I’d like you to keep it,” he finished.
I processed that information, feeling another whisper of pain when his eyes didn’t leave mine. Embarrassment reached me, but I couldn’t tell if it was his or mine, or both of ours. Maybe it was just an inability to deal with him that close, looking at me the way he was.
He let go of my wrist. Forcing my eyes away from his, I focused back on the small refrigerator, fighting to catch my breath.
“Do you want anything to drink?” I said. “You should eat something, Revik. It’ll help replenish your light.”
“Yes.” A second later, he reconsidered, gesturing negative. “...No, Allie. Not right now.”
“No?” I glanced back. “Are you sure? They probably have something in here you can eat. Even if it’s just juice or peanuts, or...”
I trailed when his arm coiled around my waist. Gently, he pulled me upright, then back into the corner of the leather limousine seat by the door. Leaning over where I sat, he half-trapped me there with his arms, turning to shield most of me from the rest of the car. For a long moment, with his light encasing mine, it felt almost like we were alone.
He just looked at me, his colorless eyes clear.
“Are you all right?” I said.
He shook his head. “No.”
He looked like he wanted to say more. He lowered his mouth to my ear, speaking in a near-murmur.
“I missed you, Allie,” he said. “...so much.”
Fighting a tightening in my throat, I braced against a sliver of pain that hit at my chest. I felt it in my fingers.
“I missed you, too.” My voice came out soft, lower than a whisper. “A lot, Revik...every day.”
Warmth pulsed off his light, but I felt him pull it back, restraining it.
I felt him wanting to say more. Finally, he caressed my face, his fingers gentle as he brushed hair out of my eyes.
“You saved my life,” he said. “...again, Allie.” His jaw tightened. “I don’t know why. I heard you. With Galaith. You have no idea how wrong you are...about what I think of you. You couldn’t be more wrong about that, Allie...”
Glancing up at him, I smiled a little, in spite of myself.
“Just a little slow, right?” I said, my voice teasing. “...A little worm-like?”
He gripped my hair. “You saved my life. Again, Allie.”
My smile faded as I looked at him. I watched his mouth harden, felt his fingers tighten on me as he searched for words.
“You’re all I’ve thought about,” he said. “For months, Allie...even before.”
I didn’t ask him before what. I was staring at him again, a little thrown.
Cautiously, I let my fingers trace his jaw. For a long moment, he didn’t move, letting me touch him as he held me against the seat. I caressed his neck, even his fingers, before going back to his face. I didn’t hide my reactions to how thin he was. I felt his light start to respond, coiling deeper into mine as he lowered his mouth. My hand tightened in his shirt as his lips touched my throat. I jumped when I felt his tongue glide over my skin.
He raised his head, his eyes glassed. He swallowed, staring at me.
I met his gaze, fighting disbelief.
“Are you going to leave me?” he said.
I stared between his eyes. Clearing my throat, I shook my head.
“No,” I said.
I saw tension leave his face. I could feel him wanting to say more. It hung there, between us, as he thought
through words, as if practicing different ways to say it.
Then, he seemed to give up.
He leaned closer. His lips brushed my mouth, a near question.
I held my breath as he kissed me again. His light remained cautious, coiled around his body...I felt him feeding on me still, too, probably in reflex since he was still low on light. At my thought, he took my hand, placing it on the center of his chest. For a moment both of us just hung there as he pulled light through my fingers.
Then he made a low sound, lowering his mouth to mine.
We were kissing then. I felt nothing but restraint on him at first, a near caution as his fingers touched my hands. I was holding back, too, I realized...but when the pull grew stronger, I found myself opening. My light changed. I’d barely touched my tongue to his when I felt him react. He kissed me again, parting my lips, gasping a little against my mouth. I touched his face again, and he closed his eyes, leaning into my hand, sliding his fingers into my hair.
Then he had me pinned against the seat.
He kissed me harder, leaning his weight on me. When I clasped his neck, he made another low sound. I felt him asking me then, felt everything about him grow soft, melting into my light, against my body. Pain slid through me, almost debilitating, and he let out a groan, his hand clenching on my hip. He kissed me again, using light in his tongue. I realized he was hard, even as he started to open for real, to unfurl his light—
“Hey!” Jon thumped Revik on the back.
Both of us jumped.
“Chill out,” he said. “You guys are like teenagers, I swear.” He punched Revik’s arm. “That’s still my sister, man. Married or not...no way am I going to watch you two go native in here.”
I let go of him at once and Revik raised his head.
His eyes were out of focus, almost drugged, but he nodded to Jon’s words. I felt another set of eyes on me and glanced forward as Maygar looked away from the rearview mirror.
Allie's War Season One Page 47