“Okay, this would be the part where you climb in your cars and drive away before you have your asses kicked. I’ll give you ten seconds to get moving in the opposite direction.” She glared at the man in front and tried to break his nerve. Cow the leader and the pack will follow. Instead, he raised his pistol and fired, which was the signal for his crew to do the same. Cara was in motion as soon as the gun began to raise, summoned a wall of flame to block the shots and their view of her, and darted to the side in case they carried anti-magic rounds. The barrier deflected the bullets, and she grinned. Amateurs. They obviously assumed that since they weren’t after Diana, they didn’t need to come loaded for bear.
She maintained the fire for a few seconds while she crept ahead on the top of the train cars nearest her, then let it fall to reveal that she’d vanished. The reactions from half the goons were comical as they searched frantically for her. The other half—the more professional members—ejected and replaced magazines in their pistols before they continued to move slowly forward. She judged that five of them might have vests under the hoodies she thought were too hot for the summer weather. The others wore shirts that were either too thin—or too skimpy in one case—to hide them. She shook her head at the latter. Lady, it’s not a fashion show. Crop tops aren’t appropriate for armed combat. They’re strictly for hand to hand. She snorted and drew the pistol from her hip.
Cara fired the first six bullets quickly, two each for the unvested enemy, and aimed for their arms even though it was against protocol. She didn’t feel particularly threatened and wounding these warrior wannabes would probably take them out of the fight completely. They didn’t seem like the grit-your-teeth-and-keep-fighting kind. More like the run away bleeding kind. Three of the bullets struck home, two into one of the women and one into a man in a muscle shirt. The rounds she directed at crop-top missed. She ducked out of the line of sight of the others when they fired in her general direction. Nine shots left.
The whir of the drone intruded an instant before Kayleigh spoke. “Okay, two have jumped into the rearmost car, and the other six are looking at you. Also, ally incoming.” The agent frowned and in the next moment, Rath’s gleeful voice sang over the comms.
“Here I come to save the dayyyyyyy.” He flashed into view, folded his wings, and arced to land feet-first on the woman in the half-shirt. The impact shoved her into the side of the nearest vehicle and she fell face-first. Two canisters careened toward the remaining five hostiles, and they detonated in a conflagration of bright light, deafening noise, and solid concussion.
Cara jumped over the lip of the roof, twisted to grab the ladder that led down, and slid to the ground with her hands and insteps locked on the outside. “Rath, you make it too easy.” His laughter was followed by the sound of his stun batons firing.
Kayleigh was clearly amused by the troll’s antics. “Four left.”
Cara found the nearest adversary—a woman who was bleeding from her ears—and swept her feet out from under her. The assassin landed on her side with a thud and the crack of a breaking bone. She shook her head. “Rath, I’ll bring them down and you stun them so I don’t risk hurting them any more than necessary.” Amateurs may have been too generous a description of these fools.
In response, he began to sing again. “When criminals in this world appear…” His baton snapped loudly. “And break the laws that they should fear…” She shook her head and tuned him out as she stalked forward toward the next target. This one managed to recover his wits enough to brandish the tire iron he carried at her, but she stepped in and delivered a punch to his chest as a distraction before she kicked him in the crotch. He crumpled and she moved on as the shock batons discharged again. “The cry goes out both far and near….”
Kayleigh was laughing now, doubtless at the troll’s ongoing song. “Two remaining. Careful, they’re moving to surround you.”
Cara stopped, and the dust cleared to reveal the promised opponents, one to her left and one to her right. “Howdy, boys. Are you really sure you wouldn’t rather sit down and let us knock you out until the authorities get here?”
“Eight minutes for the police,” the tech interjected. “You’ll want to be out of there by then.” There was always the chance that an overzealous patrol officer might decide to waste their time by demanding they come to the station. Standard procedure was to avoid that possibility by not being there when they arrived.
Her opponents looked at each other while the tech was speaking and raised their pistols together. With a sigh, Cara launched darts of flame from each hand to jolt the guns from their hands. “Last chance, fellas.” They lurched forward with their backup weapons—a tire iron for the man on her left and a military surplus KA-BAR knife for the one on the right. She drew her daggers and swept them out to intercept the attacks, guiding both in front of her and down. The man with the longer weapon was more exposed, and she skipped forward to deliver a side kick to his thigh that brought him to one knee.
“He’s yours, Rath.” She turned to the other, who held the knife before him as if it would stop her approach. “Have you ever used that before?” She tossed her right-hand dagger, Angel, in the air and caught it reversed, the blade laying along her forearm. With a broad grin, she gestured with Demon. “See, this way, you can slash.” She shuffled in and whipped the edge at his face and he stumbled back, his hands raised in a panicked defense. “Or stab.” She drew her arm back from the far end of the first strike and drove the point at him.
He tripped over his own feet as he tried to retreat. She looked at him and shook her head. “You know, if y’all were going to interrupt my pleasant evening out, the least you could have done was be competent.” Her diminutive partner thrust his batons forward from behind and the man fell without having ever known the troll was there. “Idiots.”
“Idiots,” Rath echoed,
“Four minutes on the women and men in blue,” Kayleigh warned. “Get moving.” Cara made a circuit of the fallen and collected their phones and whatever other personal items they carried for investigative purposes. She accelerated out of the main entrance of the railyard as the sirens came into audible range. Quinn gave her a feed from one of the overhead drones, and she saw the police cars racing into the yard as Rath glided above them, headed for safety.
She grinned with the satisfaction of a job well done, then sobered. “Glam, we have to find out how these bozos knew where I was. Plus, I need a drop-off point for these phones.” ARES quarantined enemy gear off-site until it had been checked for trackers. “First, they target Diana and now, they attack me. For an allegedly secret organization, we don’t seem particularly secret these days.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Sloan was reviewing his ideas to tag Sarah with the bug Kayleigh had provided when his phone buzzed. He cursed in annoyance at the interruption, and again in annoyance at the world in general, and picked the device up. It unlocked to reveal a text message from Mur. Pickup in ten minutes.
What the hell? There were no plans for the gang to meet today, and he’d had no other invitations or summons from anyone on the human side of the Remembrance. It was rare that something took him completely by surprise, but this request had accomplished it. He bundled his thoughts about action against Sarah and shoved them into the corner of his mind, letting the memories and attitudes of Tommy Ketchum flow back into place. He’d seen recordings of himself as he shifted into his cover roles and knew his expressions and body language would change to represent the persona he adopted.
The agent rose from the couch with a groan and strolled into the bedroom to get dressed. Tommy had decided to take a hint from his bosses and had purchased nicer clothes with the profit-sharing from some of their side operations. He donned a suit and a dress shirt and slid his feet into his shiny shoes, the entire ensemble a matching shade of black. A minute remained, barely enough time to mess his hair up in a manner appropriate to the character. He headed out his apartment door as Mur pulled up in his big black pickup.
He jumped in, and the man gave him a quick smile. “Nice outfit, copycat.” He swung the wheel and merged into traffic without delay.
“Only learning from my betters, you know how it is. What’s going on?”
The big man shook his head. “I’m in the dark on this one. All I know is that the boss said to pick you up and get to our own base.” He meant the humans’ hideout, not the main Remembrance facility. “He sounded angry. Really angry.”
Sloan considered his next words carefully, then decided to go for it. “You’d warn me if he was mad at me, right? Like, give me three steps toward the door?”
Mur nodded without meeting his eyes. “I can’t think of a circumstance where I wouldn’t.” That’s reassuring. Kind of. It doesn’t put me in the clear, though, if he finds out my secret. The man’s voice lowered as if he was saying something that scared him. “Between you and me, I’m not sure that he’s completely keeping it together these days. I don’t know if it’s the surgeries, or the pressure, or what the hell else. But he’s not…balanced.”
“Yeah, I kind of got that idea at the restaurant.”
The other man shook his head. “That wasn’t nearly as extreme as some of the stuff he’s said. He’s ready to kill Sarah and is waiting for an excuse or an opportunity that’ll keep the rest of the magicals from attacking him. Plus, he talks bad about the guy above them—the one from the other planet—like he wants him dead too.”
“So he wants to be king?”
Mur sighed. “That’s the thing. I’m not sure there is an end goal. It’s more like he’s ready to start killing and not stop until he’s gone through everyone on his list.”
Sloan grimaced. “Like the movie says, some men simply want to watch the world burn. Maybe Marcus has become one of those guys.” He chuckled. “I guess I better work twice as hard to stay on his good side.”
A couple of dark laughs escaped Mur. “You and me both, brother.”
They walked through the doors to the humans’ bolt hole to find about half the group there and Marcus nowhere to be seen. The space was a converted mechanic’s garage with five bays that had formerly accommodated cars and now provided room for people, weapons, and stolen goods. A small cluster of four men stood alone in the corner and looked nervous, and Sloan instinctively tried to peer into their feelings. Once again, he failed to convince his magic to appear. Dammit, everyone else is getting training. Maybe I need it too.
Another three cars screeched to a halt outside and their occupants strolled into the room as if nothing was wrong. He exchanged glances with Mur, who shrugged. It seems like only he and I are worried. I’m not sure if that’s overreaction on our part or stupidity on everyone else’s. After the scene at the restaurant, anyone with an ounce of sense and something to hide should be damn concerned. His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of their leader, who barged out of the former customer lobby into the open portion of the workshop.
He strode to the center of the space, not speaking, an angry glare on his face that he swept across each person as he walked. Individual conversations fell silent under the look. When he stopped moving, he looked around with his hands on his hips. He spoke in a snarl. “I thought I had been clear. Then, when I discovered that people were confused, I made an example of two of you to ensure that I was clear.” He suddenly yelled, startling everyone in the room. “But apparently, some of you are too stupid to get the damned message.”
There was a visible unanimous recoil as most of those present took a step away from the wild-eyed man in the middle. He raised a hand and pointed at the foursome that sneaked toward the exit. “These people, for example.” He lurched into motion and almost ran across the space to stop them from advancing further when he positioned himself between them and the doorway. “Would you like to explain to everyone what you and your idiot friends did last night?”
None of them spoke. Sloan wasn’t sure if they were frozen in fear or simply unwilling to play the man’s game, but it was a bad look either way. Marcus laughed. “Really? No words? Well, let me share with the group.” He turned to face the rest of the gathering. “Twelve people,” he paused, then yelled “Twelve idiots,” before he lowered his voice again. “Twelve idiots decided to take it upon themselves to attack one of our enemies.”
Looks of disbelief flickered across the faces of those closest to Sloan, but he couldn’t pull his gaze away from Marcus to check the rest. Holy hell, he’s either lost it or is almost ready to. “These four were the lucky ones. They managed to crash their car on the way and missed the actual battle.” One of them looked about to speak, but the man near him grabbed his arm to prevent it. “The other eight are currently locked up.”
He spun to face the offenders. “I don’t even want to know what you were thinking. Or if you were thinking, which seems damn unlikely. But let me tell you what you’ve accomplished.” He paused, and every person in the room held their breath as they waited for his next words. They were low and threatening. “You didn’t kill the woman. You didn’t kill her helper. You didn’t manage even to wound either one of them, as near as we can tell.” His fists clenched and unclenched as he spoke. “But you did reveal our knowledge of the woman’s whereabouts. And you reduced our numbers. For. No. Bloody. Gain.”
He followed the finishing shout by raising his arms, which were once again clear of obstruction due to his rolled sleeves. Lightning discharged at the quartet from the left. The wide cone caught all of them and they jittered and danced involuntarily. The right arm fired a fan of tiny projectiles that looked like long needles at head height. The flechettes penetrated the soft tissue of their faces, and they howled as they fell with their hands over their torn flesh.
Marcus didn’t speak or move other than to maintain the electrical assault until all four were dead. When it was over, he turned to the larger group and glared at each of them in turn. Sloan felt the implied promise that he, too, would face the leader’s wrath if he stepped out of line. Their leader stormed from the room, pausing briefly to mutter to Mur, “Clean that up,” before he continued and vanished from sight.
Sloan’s companion looked at him and shook his head. He responded with a slight nod and accompanied him as he gathered trusted people to dispose of the remains of the four transgressors. Okay, the verdict is in. The Remembrance now has two certifiably insane leaders.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The message from Lechnas had invaded his dreams, one of Dreven’s least favorite methods of receiving missives from his master. The communication had been unequivocal, demanding that he take matters on the other planet in hand personally. Clearly, my underlings have failed again and failed to report their failure. He shook his head in frustration. Well, at least he didn’t kill me out of hand as he threatened to do. Where there’s life, there’s hope for an improved outcome.
He gathered his most important implements and weapons. If the goal is to sow chaos, it’s better to bring more than less. Despite the tension involved in the assignment, part of him looked forward to personal involvement. After a year of managing others and coddling his colleagues in the circle, to have the chance to act directly would be a pleasure.
The small smile turned into a frown as he remembered his last personal encounter with a human. Stupid woman. I had her, dead to rights. He shook his head. Sometimes, it is better to be lucky than skilled, I suppose. Next time, her luck won’t save her. When he judged he had gathered all the items he could reasonably take, he created a portal to the office the annoying witch used. Through the rift, he saw that the door was open and the room was empty. He stepped through and dropped his bags as he heard shouting through the opening.
At the foot of the stairs, the human and magical leaders of the group confronted one another, their respective followers arrayed behind them. The man had his metal arms folded, which was surprising since he’d expected to see only one. The witch had a hood over her head and her back to him but pointed a finger into the man’s face. It was clear that the p
otential for an all-out escalation had increased and would become inevitable if the two didn’t rein it in. He watched for a moment, considered whether to let the scene play out unhindered, and decided he couldn’t afford the number of soldiers that might be lost.
He strode down the stairs and the loud noise startled everyone on the floor. Their heads turned, and he saw that the witch’s hair had vanished, which explained the covering. She bowed slightly. “Welcome, Dreven. We did not expect you.”
He waved dismissively. “I didn’t wish you to.” He reached the bottom of the stairs and looked at both groups. “What transpires here?”
Sarah gestured at her counterpart. “His people carried out an unapproved attack on one of our enemies. They failed due to their arrogance and now, our position is weakened. He suggests we should try the same tactic again on more junior members of the woman’s team. It’s idiocy.” She shook her head. “Remove the head and the body dies. Remove an arm, and well…” She glanced askance at the man. “The head continues.” The unspoken “unfortunately” hung in the room.
Dreven faced Marcus, whom he’d judged to be reasonably useful for a human. He saw fury in the man’s eyes, although it didn’t reach his body language, which was soft, quiet, and all the more threatening because of it. “True?”
He shrugged. “Not the whole story, but true. The ones who acted did so without permission. Those who were not arrested paid for the mistake with their lives.”
“At the hands of our enemies?”
“No.”
Dreven nodded. “Acceptable. However, it has become clear that neither of you can be trusted to handle the tasks I have given you. Again and again, you have failed. That ends today.” He turned to the stairs and climbed them halfway to ensure that every eye could see him. “For too long, this group has targeted the wrong opponents. It’s time to start at the top and work our way down.”
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