World Divided: Book Two of the Secret World Chronicle

by Mercedes Lackey; Cody Martin; Dennis Lee; Veronica Giguere

  Bulwark never laughed. He shook his head, suppressing an insane thought that this would the perfect time to start. The growl reverberated with an electronic tinnyness, like some demonic Speak-and-Spell.

  Like all the Krieger constructs, the wolf was art deco, and very stylized; sleek, streamlined curves broken by angular joints. The ears were clearly functioning as antennae, but were far too solidly built to break off, and had been constructed as if the creature had laid them back in anger. The huge lenses of its eyes were protected by overhanging brows of metal that gave a look of rage. There were no nostrils, not even hints of them. But there certainly were teeth. Huge scythes of metal, ending in needle points. Functional; they didn’t need to tear, only to pierce, and they could probably pierce anything.

  It crouched. He heard a whine that was just barely on the edge of his hearing range. It ramped up, the tone going higher. The head swung from side to side a little; the thing was making sure of its target, which was, of course, him. Probably assessing him for weapons.

  Bulwark watched him with a clinical level of detachment. Leaning forward, he spread his arms wide and braced himself. His shield flared into existence, defiantly lighting up the area around him, but paled by comparison to before, before . . .

  Perhaps he had been relying too much on Harmony of late.

  The wolf charged. Bulwark leaned into it. The wolf crashed into the shield at full force. There was a slight give, then it flexed out. The wolf flew back and fell into a line of armor suits, knocking them over like bowling pins, and landed unceremoniously on its back. Growling, it rolled and came back up on its feet, legs spread wide and back arched up defensively. It continued to growl, and Bull heard the whining again.

  Without Harmony to bolster his defenses, he’d felt that. Not badly; just as if he’d been gut-punched. Still, take enough punches to the gut, and eventually your insides will begin to bleed.

  Assessment: Stand-off. Advantage: Robot. I will eventually tire. He will not.

  * * *

  Bella had found a spot where some of the knocked-over suits had formed a kind of teepee. The young women squirmed into the space in the middle. The Hunters couldn’t reach them in there—but they couldn’t stick as much as a finger out without losing it. She took a moment to examine Scope, placing a hand calmly over the girl’s eyes. No improvement, and through the damage, deeper and saturating everything in her, she was bombarded with Scope’s rage. This was a woman with a desperate need to prove herself. It was her constant, the drive that shaped almost everything she was. She could always do better. She had made a mistake earlier, and had been saved by Acrobat. Ever since, Bella could feel an uncontrollable frustration within the girl, almost deafening at times. It wouldn’t happen again, she would make sure of it. And here they were, in a situation where if she’d had her eyes, she could fix it. If.

  Bella sighed. There was nothing to say to her. Scope was in her own personal hell right now. All that Bella could do was keep trying to give her the most important thing back. Her eyes. Where was a jolt of angel juice when you needed it?

  Three thousand miles away, that’s where.

  So what was left? They were trapped. She could tend to their wounds, but there wasn’t much else she had offensively. The Hunters were machines, not humans, which meant her telepathy was worth squat against them. Hell.

  That left Harmony. Shielded as she was, Bella could still read her body language. The girl was in her own bad place. Her eyes darted nervously to catch whatever glimpse she could of the diving Hunters. Her lips quivered, shaping a silent and nervous prayer, her hands clasped in fear.

  All right. “Harmony, can you give me the same power-up you do for Bulwark? I might be able to do more for Scope.”

  Harmony shied away, refusing to even look at Bella. She crumpled up against some fallen armor. She was shivering.

  Perfect.

  * * *

  Bruno had always heard that there was a perfect moment, when suddenly, you knew exactly what you were doing, what you needed to do, and how you were going to do it. A moment when everything went right and you were in the groove and everything else just fell away.

  He’d never expected to feel a moment like that. Ever. He’d always been the not-quite, the never-was. Like all of Bull’s squad. “Bulwark’s Misfits.” He’d heard enough of the insults, the jabs, the sneers, had been overwhelmed with them. Enough that he had taken the words to heart. Half-baked and halfway there and never quite good enough for a “real” team.

  Which was why the sudden certainty, the feeling of That Moment, was all the more astonishing. He could see it, feel it, taste it. He knew what to do. He knew he could do it. All he had to do was take the steps through time, and to trust. Trust in his teammates, and in their leader, because while no one placed any faith in Bulwark’s Misfits, no one discounted Bulwark. The training kicked in, the endless hours spent optimizing their strengths, compensating for weaknesses, weeks and months spent exploring their potential as a team. All it took was an idea, and they could see it through.

  Acrobat skidded to a halt, and watched the wolf bounce again off Bull’s shield. The big man fell to a knee and coughed blood, and after a moment, rose again. He wasn’t beaten yet.

  Acrobat grinned. Bull wasn’t beaten yet.

  * * *

  Bella turned away from Harmony, who was a wreck. A liability, a civilian who needed protection, for all intents and purposes. Taking a deep breath, she laid her hands on Scope’s shoulders.

  All right then, let’s work with what we’ve got. Do what she could for Scope with the limits of her own strength. She dug deep, and poured it out.

  “Scope, the weakness of those birds is the mouth. They have to open up to fire the energy cannon. That’s your best target.”

  She ignored the tunneling of her vision, and the fact that it was starting to gray out to give Scope everything she had. After all, if Scope couldn’t pull this off, it wouldn’t matter. They’d be toast. And the Goldman Catacombs would win again. Bella knew her limits, and she was approaching them fast. Vision went first, fading, so she just closed her eyes. She was already crammed into a nook in the armor and that was holding her up, so when her knees started to wobble, she stayed where she was. Just had to hold on, a little longer. A little longer . . .

  “Hope that was enough,” Bella croaked, as her legs gave out and she crashed to the ground. Still awake, but not by much. With numb, weak fingers she fumbled at her belt for a glucose pouch.

  * * *

  Dive.

  Red flew forward, tumbling away with smooth execution. It was barely enough. A desperate slash of claws found a tentative grip on his shoulder and drew blood. Red vaulted left and made a break for it through a row of power suits. It bought him a moment as the wolf crashed into a line of suits, toppling them over. At least that was something. But he couldn’t keep this up, and as far as he could see, he couldn’t hurt this thing.

  Run. RUN, IDIOT!

  He needed a breather, a second to stop and think. Better yet, to watch. Everything had a weakness, damn it. The trick was to stay alive long enough to see it. Behind him, he heard the screech of powerful claws digging against indestructible steel as the wolf righted itself, and then a hard repetitive clanging as once again, the monstrosity propelled itself in hot pursuit of its quarry.

  That would be me.

  The wolf was closing the distance again. Red risked a look back, and immediately wished that he hadn’t. He had seconds, seconds, before it tore into him . . .

  Dodge . . . left. No! Feint left, DODGE RIGHT!

  He flew up, caught the pommel of a power suit’s sword and let his momentum swing him up and around. The wolf shot past him, letting out a surprised yelp as it fumbled to a desperate stop, its limbs flailing and rump skidding on the ground. Red stifled a gasp as he felt his shoulder give and managed a clumsy flip to land on his feet. Maybe he shouldn’t have showboated out there on the practice course today in front of Victrix. Hubris. It always co
mes back to bite you in the ass.

  It’s bigger, stronger and faster, but it can’t maneuver worth shit.

  He watched the wolf lose control, skid, tumble over and roll to a stop.

  Now hide, fool.

  Red gritted his teeth, popped his shoulder back into place, and raced for cover in the dense forest of armor, shifting his weight to muffle his footsteps.

  * * *

  Behind him, the wolf came to his feet, and growled, the sound rumbling among the metal pillars of the armor suits. His quarry had vanished. He trotted back and found drops of blood. The baleful glare of his eyes intensified as they followed the trail, leading away through the rows of armor. He started off towards Red, knocking over power suits impatiently, arrogance and purpose in every step.

  Personal Damage Assessment: Minimal. Minute points of exposure in shell.

  Quarry Status: Badly injured. Losing blood.

  Conclusion: Quarry termination imminent.

  * * *

  Scope drew her guns and peered out through the cracks and breaks in their cover. She could make out the Hunters now, to some extent. They had begun to synchronize their attacks, swooping from opposite sides and concentrating their fire.

  Bella could hear it, but her own vision hadn’t come back yet. One glucose pouch was empty and she sucked on a second desperately.

  “You got a shot?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” Scope admitted. It killed her to say it, but she couldn’t be less than honest.

  “Take what you can get,” Bella advised. “If I can get my legs under me again, I can maybe give you more eye. But damn it, Scope, watch the strain. Your eyes are dying now, all I can do is regenerate new tissue. It’s delicate. If I do much more, if we push things too far, it might rupture the optic nerves. Permanently.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” Scope muttered. “Look to yourself. We might have to run soon, and you’re no good to us if you can’t even stand up.” She turned to her right. “That goes for you too, Harm. Pull it together.”

  “And what?” Harmony demanded. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Whatever you can,” Scope answered. “Or we die, here and now.”

  She took a breath and dove for the opening. The Hunters were turning, and descending, and firing . . .

  She trained both pistols on one and emptied her clips into it.

  She missed.

  * * *

  Vickie dove under the desk again, flashlight in her mouth. Then she swore, dropped the flashlight and fired off a spell for light—the same one that had caused all that trouble the first time. Now she could see.

  Paranoia was damned useful. She’d built every bit of this rig with an eye to losing components and having to switch in a hurry. More expensive and tedious to do, but in a sitch like this one—

  Ha. There and there and there. Two of the components were just her own version of surge protectors. Just because there was no evidence the Thulians used magic, no reason not to protect things she might use for other applications. She pulled the blackened, shattered crystals in their clear boxes, scrambled out from under the desk, and grabbed two more and a patch cable made of silver braided with horsehair and pure linen thread. She plugged those back in, and watched as the circuit came to life, magically. The third was easy; a real surge protector had tripped. She reset it. Back in business?

  She could only hope. She killed the light spell and scrambled back into her seat. The trace pixels were still there. Taking a deep breath, she ran a full reset, with a prayer that this time the whole system would come back live.

  * * *

  Bulwark was holding steady . . . for now. It was a classic standoff. The wolf couldn’t reach him directly, but he couldn’t do anything to the wolf, and the wolf was wearing him down. The laws of physics were harsh, and the force fields didn’t cancel out blows, they only reflected the energy.

  Some of it got transferred to him. Inside his bubble, he was taking a pounding. He couldn’t keep this up forever.

  His nose was starting to bleed. He wiped it off on the back of his sleeve. He felt as if he had gone six rounds in the ring with someone in a higher weight class than he was—someone with a grudge.

  As the wolf rammed into his force fields again, raging at him from a mere four feet away, he caught sight of something moving above and behind his opponent.

  Not the other—

  No, it was Acrobat.

  Careful not to look at the lad and give the wolf a second, unprotected target, he gave Acrobat an unobtrusive hand signal.

  Acrobat grinned, pointed to the wolf, pointed to the armor and held up two fingers.

  Oho . . . clever boy. Bulwark gave the slightest of nods, and braced himself for impact.

  The wolf backed away and set up another charge. It launched itself at Bulwark, head down, changing its tactics to ramming. Maybe whatever AI was operating it had noticed that slashing and biting wasn’t getting through, but bludgeoning was hurting him.

  It barely noticed as Acrobat launched himself from the shadows and laid a mocking slap across its face.

  “Tag, shithead! You’re it!”

  Hooting with laughter, Acrobat somersaulted away.

  The wolf stopped its charge and watched the boy run off. He turned to look at Bulwark, then to Acrobat, and back again.

  I really want to know what it’s thinking, Bulwark thought. Probably assessing the new threat. A much simpler one than me. If it was me . . .

  The wolf turned and charged after the boy.

  . . . I’d go for the target without the force field.

  Bulwark watched the wolf run off. He gathered himself, let his bubble fade away and sprinted towards the rows of older armor.

  * * *

  Scope felt the hands on her back, grabbing fistfuls of her hair and shirt, yanking her unceremoniously back under the shelter of the fallen armor and flat on her ass. She snapped to her feet, her eyes furious and ready to give Harmony the worst beatdown of her life, when she saw the scorched earth at her feet. Harmony had pulled her out of the blast fire.

  Saved again, and by Harm this time. How much do I suck?

  “Are you insane?” Harmony screamed. “Death machines on the dive and you step out from cover?”

  “This cover won’t last forever, you dumb twit!” Scope shouted. “We need to take them out now!”

  The Hunters answered with a heavy burst of fire. Their makeshift fortifications shuddered and groaned under the strain. One suit of armor twisted on its pivot and threatened to roll away, but fell back in a mad screech of grinding metal.

  “They’re starting to direct their fire,” Scope muttered. “They’re peeling away the layers.”

  “Oh God,” Harmony whimpered, sinking back down and covering her face with her hands. “We’re dead. We’re dead.”

  * * *

  Geez, this thing is FAST.

  Acrobat dodged another swipe, bouncing back and over the wolf’s deadly descent. The wolf was quick and Acrobat was extremely mindful of how it used its entire body to generate speed. Still, it was chasing a target that could turn on a dime, could leap in impossible directions and safely land with barely a toehold. It was like trying to catch a bouncing ball.

  But an unprotected bouncing ball. This was a target that was not sheltered behind an invisible force field. All the wolf had to do was catch it.

  God only knew what was making the calculations in there. What Acrobat knew was that he had to make the equation come out in favor of him being the tasty one. Which meant . . .

  Slow down. He had to slow down. Crazy as that sounded, this would all be for nothing if the wolf switched targets again.

  Keep in close, within reach. Stay tasty. Stay tasty.

  He felt a shiver as he leapt between outstretched claws in midswing, and shock as he felt the tag, one sharp claw grazing his ribs. He cried out as he watched a spray of blood droplets spatter away, following the track of the claw.

  He landed awkwardly, one leg
buckling as his hands rushed to survey the damage. Painful, but a graze.

  Move!

  He vaulted backwards, barely avoiding another mad swipe, pushed off the ground with his hands and rolled away. He leapt up again, and was on the run, his breathing now labored and sharp with fear.

  Okay . . . maybe stay just a bit out of reach.

  He risked a quick look over his shoulder. The wolf was gaining. Of course it was. And where was Bulwark? Surely he had bought the man enough time . . .

  He cursed as he dove to the left away from another pounce. He righted himself and ran on.

  . . . enough time to get set up.

  And then, in the distance, he saw it. Rising high with a gorgeous arc, ablaze with a brilliant warmth of amber and screaming its beautiful head off . . . Bull’s flare. It sputtered at the apex, up near the very top of the domed ceiling, then cooled and burned away.

  Acrobat turned and raced to Bull’s position. He grinned again, his hand pressed to his wound. He couldn’t remember the last time he had had so much fun.

  * * *

  . . . oh . . . God . . .

  The glucose wasn’t working nearly fast enough.

  But that wasn’t nearly as crucial as what this strain was doing to Scope’s eyes. Too much, too soon, and the damage could be permanent—and then what would Scope do? Her metapower was her eyes.

  But it was Scope’s decision. Not Bella’s. No matter how strongly Bella felt that this was a catastrophically bad idea, it was still Scope’s decision. If she had learned anything from the Seraphym, it was that you didn’t argue with informed Free Will.

  Bella sucked down another glucose shot, then decided to make a bad Free Will decision of her own. She grabbed an Echo stimulant patch (prominently labeled as “Emergency Use Only”) and slapped it on the side of her neck. She’d never used one before.

  As the drug hit her system, she privately vowed she was never, ever going to use one again. It felt like being hit with a semi-load of Cafeebucks double espressos made with caffeine water. Her heart sounded like a Buddy Rich solo.

  Well, if you can’t get angel juice in an emergency . . .