Heart of Knives (The Complex Book 0)

by LV Lewis

  “On my home planet, we faced demons, mostly. A lot of hiding in shadows, and killing people from them. I haven’t been able to accept that maybe they’ve accepted the truce, and thus I get rid of shadows whenever I can,” Gary says.

  Amarie saw his distrust of demons during the spell. She hates the fact that his reasoning is potentially racist. She also hates that it works to make him even cuter. By Gibhron’s gaze, how hard am I going to have to work to keep him off a pedestal in my heart? She knows the answer but isn’t ready to accept it just yet.

  “Well puppy, Humans killed plenty of Metas while camouflaged. How is that different?”

  The point was unfair and had nothing to do with his story, she knows. But, if she doesn’t start putting up walls now, she won’t want to be with Erihstoll anymore. Already the Fairy Prince is fading from her moment to moment thoughts, covered up by ridiculous amounts of subtle fantasies about the puppy. Eventually, she knows, a counter-ritual will need to be performed to separate these accidentally entwined souls. Until then, Amarie needs to hate Gary, and there just isn’t a lot to hate about a good man who’s literally working to keep you alive. Damn you, Gary Locke. Why couldn’t you be one of the truly vile Humans who live to hate?

  Gary puts his head down, rightfully angry at the princess’ biting words. Amarie almost wishes he would yell at her, that he would use impassioned words to describe how upset and inept she makes him feel.

  “Why would you want him to do that, Princess?” Sydney asks. “Why would you care what he thinks when you just want him out of your mind?”

  Sydney’s smile irks Amarie. All her tiny, pixie brain is thinking about is the romantic angle . . . and the sex that must surely be in the works. What. A. Voyeur.

  “You know it can’t be, Sydney,” Amarie whispers back.

  “It could. Prince Habbernock would be less than pleased, but then, he’s already upset.”

  “Exactly!”

  Gary and Temera turn at Amarie’s outburst. Amarie feels her cheeks flush with color, and the burning of utter embarrassment. Gary smiles, the line between his lips crooked and cocky and delicious. Stop it! Temera looks worried. Amarie needs to say something, but no excuse is coming to mind, and like hell she’s going to tell the truth of what she and Sydney are talking about.

  “Sorry,” Sydney pipes up. “We were discussing how impotent your firm’s security seems to be, especially at night. Are you sure she’s safe?”

  Picking up on the ploy, Amarie replies, “Sydney! Don’t be so upfront about our insecurities! They are trying really hard, and it’s not like this is the safehouse. It isn’t, right?”

  Temera relaxes some. “No, honey. This ain’t the safehouse. And I apologize, we should be communicating more with you what we’re doing. I’m just used to getting things done quick-and-zip; no talking required.”

  “What we’re here for is one hundred and twenty percent against Complex regulations. I ordered a kit, which is a crate of various types of weapons. Since we don’t know who is attacking you,” Gary stares deep into Amarie’s eyes, “I demanded Temera make sure we can handle anything that comes your way. We’re picking up those weapons now before we land at the safehouse.”

  Amarie’s eyes go wide as the scope of her situation comes into focus. Gary is not some stupid, bumbling boy at all. He’s going against the rules, preparing for another war, all because her safety has been threatened. Does Gary make it sound so personal for all his clients? Would he go this far for every customer, or is it just her?

  It occurs to her that Erihstoll wouldn’t go this far; didn’t, in fact. He called somebody else to do it for him. Of course he did, silly girl. He’s not a soldier like Gary . . . except he, too, fought in the war. The prince has plenty of magic to protect her with, so why would he charge a Human with her safety?

  Why does she suddenly feel safer in the care of Gary, and Temera, than she ever did around Prince Erihstoll Habbernock?

  ***

  The basement is colder than the breeze riding here had been. Amarie’s mind is numb, filled with questions about matters she’d taken for granted only hours before. Caught up in the web of her mind, the temperature change doesn’t register a blip on her radar.

  Boxes and crates litter the center of the concrete floor, and line the walls. Heavy-duty shelves hold everything from oversized files to ancient relics of an Earth that probably no longer exists. The place is not dirty, though the smell of rotted paper is almost overpowering. Nobody lives down here, or even visits often enough to clean up. The space is wasted--something Humans are extraordinarily good at and known for.

  Where they are heading, however, is not wasted space. Machines are slotted snugly so as to be easy to access. Lights are brighter here, and loose papers are scarce, leaving the rotting smell behind in favor of an oblique, oily burn which is not unpleasant . . . if you don’t breathe in too deeply, that is. Random bleeps and hums come from the various machines, and the control panel for all of them sits brightly lit and patient, awaiting commands from its human masters.

  “You could bring a full-scale war to the Complex from here,” Amarie says in disbelief. “If I’d known Humans were pulling in so much weaponry, Ama Seldova would’ve been notified.”

  “There’s only one crate of weapons here, Princess Vanyarin, and it’s only here because of your need. We’ve only broken the rules for you,” Temera replies.

  “Really? Only me? What of your other clients? Did they not need the same level of ‘protection’?”

  “Our usual clients are politicians, yes. However, they generally require documents to be delivered confidentially, or programs to be digitally secured. Most of my agents are not trained to be bodyguards. Gary is my only soldier because he survived the worst kinds of shit life can throw at you. Don’t threaten me, him, or our livelihood on idealistic measures, Princess. If you must do so, we will part ways. Right now.”

  Gary winces at Temera’s rising anger and wonders how Amarie will react. Not bothering to hide it, he stares at the emotions creeping through the princess’ lovely face. First comes retaliatory anger, but this blows over faster than a tornado through a wheat field. The second, he ascribes to her inner politician attempting to find a reconciliatory method of saving face. She does not discover what she wants in that department either, leading to a third emotion Gary can tell is foreign to her sensibilities: raw honesty and a large dose of humility.

  “I, um, I’m sorry, Master Sergeant. Please know I’m thinking of the Complex’s success when I say such things. Nothing is more important to me than seeing peace between the Humans and Metas. That’s truth. I’ve worked too hard towards it, and I saw this place, and it reminds me of Human army headquarters I’d seen during the violence. This place, it looks and feels like a war room. And--”

  “Enough, Princess Vanyarin. I understand exactly what you mean.” Temera’s eyes are watering. “We’ve all seen too much violence. We are all stressed, and tired. Gary, let’s grab this crate and get the hell out of here. Princess, you’ll be much more comfortable soon. I promise.”

  Gary nods, taking quick steps to match Temera’s urgency. Monitors glow harshly on his face, showing the outside of the building from several angles. Movement catches Gary’s eye and he freezes in place. More movement. Several bodies surround the building, at least seven on each side.

  “Temera?”

  “What, Suge?”

  “Getting comfortable is on hold.”

  Temera shuffles to Gary’s side, “What in the hell?”

  On one monitor, their Flyers blow up in silence, smoke and flame racing into the air. Two explosions go off on either side of the group, and the sound is anything but silent. Uni Seldova Security is under attack. Gary jumps into action, leaping back to Amarie and grabbing her wrist. In tandem, Temera opens the double-sealed doors containing the kit and starts prying it open. Gary throws Amarie through the open door, pushes a button, and then hurries before thicker, steel security doors close him out. Behind him
, the regular door comes together in quadrants, slow and steady, and finishes with a soft hiss.

  Gary rushes to yet another console and pushes more buttons. Another set of steel doors close on this side of the regular door. More buttons and lights go on like streetlamps in a hurry to beat the sunset. Looking up, he sees Temera picking up a rail gun. In spite of her frame, the weapon suits her. Running to her, he takes a look inside the crate.

  Several handguns, different types of ammo, a sniper rifle, and even a ‘rainbow gun’ which had proven effective against leprechauns. Gary grabs the sniper and slings it over his shoulder. Temera hands him four sets of snap-holsters. Centuries have gone by, and mankind had not found a faster, more reliable material than hard plastic snaps. Within seconds, he’s applied them and starts pulling out semi-automatic handguns. Choosing two twenty-two caliber and two forty-five caliber weapons, he sets them into their respective holsters, tightening them as needed. Digging into the ammo, he prioritizes Nighter bullets: liquefied UVs, silver, and an old friend . . . Human blood-filled.

  Amarie is watching with vile curiosity as her defenders arm up. When Gary picks up a particular box of bullets, he stops, and she watches as his face falls into the past. He’s holding a dead person’s blood in his hands, and her heart breaks for him. Sydney, permanently mind-linked with Amarie, gasps quietly when she too realizes what slowed the Amazonian-like process down.

  Gary snaps back into the now, all hints of trauma faded into nothingness as he picks up the next article. Grenades, yep, probably gonna need these. If I have to use them inside the building, though, nobody’s gonna hear anything for a week. Pulling out a plain, black bandana, he folds it to fit around and over his head. A slight poke to his lower lip reminds him he hasn’t shaved his overgrown beard in two days. Not the time, Gary.

  Temera hands Gary two belts, each with large pockets lined all the way around. He snaps one just above his waist, the other across his chest. Unzipping the pockets, he starts dumping ammo into each pocket, a box at a time. Once this is done, he and Temera both begin loading magazines at a practiced but hurried pace. Four, eight, twelve done, and these get dropped into appropriate spaces on the ammo belts, including replacing the magazines in their handguns with the more specific bullets.

  Temera looks similar to Gary, with one stark difference: she’s a demolitions expert. Plastic explosive blocks are packed into her pockets, separate from her bullets. Ensuring she has enough detonators, she looks over at Gary and finds him ready. She nods, then looks over at Princess Amarie.

  “You ever used one of these before?”

  “No. But don’t worry, I have plenty of combat magic to utilize.”

  “Honey, have you ever had to use that in a real-world situation?”

  “No.”

  “I hope you practiced enough then. Stay behind us, unless we tell you otherwise. If either of us says move, do it, no questions. A team is coming after us, which means they most likely are well versed in tactics. Let’s hope they don’t know how to avoid surprise explosions. If you get lost in smoke or dust, go ahead and holler out. We’ll get to you first.”

  The seriousness in Temera’s voice scares Amarie more than she’s ever been scared before. The tension in her throat is trying to come up and strangle her again. Swallowing hard, the princess puts on her bravest face and nods in complete compliance.

  “Are we locked in here?” Amarie asks.

  “No honey. We will have to fight our way out, though. Are you ready?”

  “No. But that’s not really an option. So, yes.”

  “All right, let’s move out!”

  Holding one of his twenty-two caliber guns with both hands, Gary spearheads the group as they head downstairs. Looking back, he sees Amarie following in the rear, as she was instructed. Good, she follows directions. Careful not to spend too much time thinking about the princess, Gary looks forward again. Temera, ever intelligent, had whispered the plan to him as they got ready.

  The attackers plan to scoop them from inside the building. This much is plain, looking at their numbers. Instead of fighting their way out through half the attacking force, they’d attempt to lead them into the water tunnels running under the Complex. This means moving through siren territory, but maybe they’ll leave Gary alone. From there, the group will walk due west for one mile and leave the tunnels from an exit there. Climintra guards will be there, but once they see the princess, they’ll bow out of the way.

  Gary thinks that this plan will lose them the building, but he must admit it has the best chance of Princess Amarie surviving to daylight. Plus, once daylight comes, they can bring a full Intra Force to investigate whatever is left of Temera’s business.

  Another explosion goes off above them, this one much closer than the other two. Cement dust falls in clouds over everybody. Amarie begins to cough, and Gary jogs over to her, offering a hand and a handkerchief.

  “Please Gary, get me out of here. I’ve got claustrophobia, the real kind. I’m going to freak out if we’re down here much longer.”

  “One mile, Princess. One, and we’ll be back up in the open.” He sees the sentence needs finishing, though. “Back in the open air, Princess. Just hold this over your mouth and you’ll be fine.”

  Taking his place back up front, Temera jabs his side as he passes. He gives her a stern look, but her eyebrow raises in mock surprise, and his seriousness falls into a smile. Above them, crackling sounds go off, and the concrete begins to separate. Gary’s eyes go wide, he knows what they’re trying to do.

  They’re going to try to drop a full slab down on top of him and his charge.

  Temera sees it, too. Saying nothing, she shoves Gary forward and then pushes Amarie towards him. Pulling out several blocks of explosive, she begins setting them right above her where the ceiling is cracking. Hurried but practiced, she places detonators in each block as she goes along, creating a curving line of boom. Finished, she looks at Gary, her eyes wet with fear and emotion. Gary’s mind triggers what she’s planning, and he shakes his head from side to side.

  “No, Temera.”

  “Run, Suge. I’ll stop ‘em before they can chase you down, but you gotta be runnin’ now.”

  “What?” Amarie interjects, horror flashing over her face, “What? NO.”

  Gary grabs Amarie’s arm with gentle yet firm demand. “Princess. Run.”

  He watches to make sure her feet fly in the right direction, then looks back at his best friend in this complex world. He understands and respects her decision even more. Goddamn, this is too high a cost for a job, though.

  Temera nods, then turns her back to Gary. He turns too, forcing his own feet to fly, feeling every droplet of water that rises over his ankle as he runs. The concrete above cracks even more, another explosion, and a slab falls just behind Gary. He doesn’t look back. He’ll never forgive himself for that. He didn’t look back. Voices begin echoing through the corridor, huffs from falling a short distance.

  Gary keeps running, trying to catch up with Princess Amarie Vanyarin. His charge.

  Boom.

  Temera’s started taking care of her own charges.

  Boom.

  She’s not going to survive.

  Boom.

  Temera screams.

  Boom.

  Boom.

  Boom.

  Other voices begin screaming. Their agony is music in Gary’s ears.

  Boom.

  Boom.

  Hello darkness, old friend. Goodbye, Temera.

  Origin

  Corilynn Blaise snaps up from a deep sleep with wide eyes. Sweat drips from her forehead as a nightmare fades from memory, leaving only a chilling fear chasing the warmth out of her spine. All she can remember now is the sharp, piercing shriek of metal teeth gnashing together.

  Prince Erihstoll is snoring on the couch, three beer cans on the floor at his feet. Corilynn flutters down from her makeshift, airborne bed to the floor. Shaking her head at the prince’s choice for dealing with stress,
she grabs the cans with three magic hands and puts them in the garbage disposal unit. The unit whirs for a few seconds before once more going silent.

  Flying back up to her bed, she takes a moment to groom her cyan wings to be presentable in public. Out of her travel bag, she chooses a white Complex uniform and begrudgingly puts it on. She brushes her hair with soft, gentle strokes until it’s tamed. Flying into the princess’ room, she checks herself in the mirror and smiles. Good enough for government work! Which is good, because that’s why she’s getting ready in the first place.

  Before leaving the apartment, she takes a final look at Prince Erihstoll. Nah, let the fairy sleep, she tells herself. He’s had a long night. Any trouble he might get in for being late will be eased by his stature, more so than Corilynn’s ability to sate his anger for being awoken. Despite her empathy for his plight, Corilynn can’t deny her mischievous nature altogether. Rather than closing the door quietly upon leaving, she heaves her magic hand forward and slams it hard. From within, she hears groaning. Her smile widens. She’s ready for the day now.

  ***

  Corilynn got her job because of what she is, not her ability. Which pisses her off, if she's honest with herself. Engineering does pay well, however, and since she’s an official agent of Ama Seldova, she can get into the tight and tiny corners of the Complex where civilians aren’t allowed.

  Her title claims Engineer, but in reality, her job is to invent new ways to make magic hold the Complex together without accidents. As a sprite, she is naturally connected to the Beam. In simple terms, this is the energy that makes not only magic, but life, possible throughout the cosmos. As such, sprites tend to believe that everyone and everything is connected from the smallest atom to the largest planets . . . and all should be respected. As an Engineer, she believes things are broken because they aren’t well made, and too often Band-Aids are applied to leaks when going back to the blueprint stage would ultimately benefit the whole machine.