I should have called the mission off and gotten my head straight. We still had three days before the deadline was up and the senate members wasn’t goin’ nowhere. Besides, somethin’ about the mission felt wrong. I had this sense of unease that I couldn’t shake, which I put down to my anger about what had happened the night before. If I had been sober I would have given it more thought and realised that it was more than that, that it was my instincts telling me that something was wrong, but I was wasted…and what happened as a result was my fault.
I could barely read my Biomote display as we tracked our way through the overgrown wheat fields towards the ranch house, and several times Elroy – my second in command – had to get the group to readjust its positioning, so that we weren’t heading towards the house dead on and in plain sight.
The plan was to split the eight Guardian group into four groups of two. Two would head around the back of the house, and two would head to either side, using glass cutters to enter through the windows so we didn’t make a sound. They would sweep through the house, tagging any wanderin’ Bloodseekers we found with special apotrope darts that would knock them out in seconds. As always Del would be with me so I could keep him protected – our part of the mission was to secure the entrance to the basement, which we knew would lead to a tunnel where the Bloodseekers were hidin out, away from the sunlight. Once the sweep of the house was finished, the rest of the team would wait for my command and then join us at the basement entrance so that we could throw a couple knockout gas canisters inside to incapacitate any potential threats, mask up and then enter the tunnels and extract the targets – which is where we knew the Vamps would be keepin’ em.
The first part of the mission went off without a hitch, the team split into smaller units and entered the ranch house as quiet as ghosts. Del and I stalked our way to the separate entrance to the cellar, which were located some thirty odd feet behind the house through a set of shutter doors. I say stalked – Del stalked and I stumbled. More than once he had to stop me from fallin’ right over on my face…that’s how bad I was. The entire time we were workin’ our way towards the entrance I could tell that Delagio desperately wanted to talk to me. He kept openin’ his mouth to say somethin’ and then losing courage. I was glad, I was still furious with him, and the last thing I wanted to do was have a conversation, especially while we was on a mission. To be honest I didn’t even want him anywhere near me. God I wish I’d made him stay back at the base.
We set up near the entrance to the cellar and waited for the team to finish their sweep and join us. Their hushed voices were buzzin’ in my earpiece as they worked their way through each room, checkin’ it off.
Delagio was crouched next to me and I was strugglin’ to focus on him. His form just kept wavering as this massive cocktail of narcotics played havoc with my mind and my body. I remember there was this awful stench, which seemed to be coming from an old rustin’ truck nearby. It was so acrid that combined with everything else, the inevitable happened and I threw up right then and there among the stalks of wheat, my abused body wracking as I retched.
Del looked at me at said real quietly that he could see I was wasted. I just glared at him, wipin’ the sick from my mouth and told him to shut his goddamn mouth. That I didn’t want to hear anythin’ he had to say. We got into it then, him tellin’ me that regardless of what I thought about him I was jeopardisin’ the mission and my men by being so off my head. I just kept tellin’ him that I was the leader and he needed to learn to shut his mouth.
He hissed at me to abort the mission or he would tell everyone just what was going on with me.
I shoved him hard. He went sprawling into the wheat and then I stood up, my intoxication mixin’ with my frustration and becoming a rage I just couldn’t control. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking man, but I lifted by coms bracelet to my lips and told everyone we were goin’ in for extraction.
My earpiece was going crazy with the team telling me that they were ‘not in position’ and ‘do not enter, I repeat do not enter.’ But did the voices of reason stop me? Did they ever stop me?
I ripped those hatch doors open like they were made from paper and stormed my way inside, no gas canisters ready and no mask on, but blades up and ready to rip apart anyone who tried to stop me from gettin' my mission completed. As soon as I got down the steps, I knew that we’d been tricked.
I’d expected to see a few Bloodseekers wandering around, but what I didn’t expect to see was all of them standin’ in a row and waiting for us, drenched from head to toe in the gasoline. I also didn’t expect to see the three Texas Senate members reduced to lumps of meat and blood in front of their feet.
They all shouted ‘death to the Alliance’ at the same time.
If my reactions had been normal, then I could have used my telekinesis to keep the striker level of the grenade in place, when the central Bloodseeker removed the pin. But they weren’t and I didn’t, and so the grenade exploded, igniting all of the Bloodseekers in a wall of flame that rushed out towards me. Everythin’ seemed to go into slow motion. I was shoved to the side and felt someone fall down on top of me as all the support beams of the cellar gave way and the ground above started to pile in around us. Delagio was on top of me – he’d protected me from the blast and now he was burning alive. He was screaming at the top of his lungs as the fire cooked his skin. I tried to do somethin’ to put the fire out, but there was nothing I could do. I was pinned down by the wreckage, and he was pressed down on top of me, covered in flaming beams. I remember the awful stench of his skin burning and the sounds of agony that came from his throat. I can remember the searing pain as the heat from his body transferred to mine – the way the fire seemed to lick my skin – before the dirt and soil finally spilled through from above and put the fire out, buryin’ us both alive.
I screamed out his name over and over until the dirt filled my mouth and my words came out as muffled cries. Everythin’ went dark and I lost consciousness, only coming around for long enough to feel myself being pulled from above by my unit. I remember that I kept screamin’ Del’s name over and over, and them tellin’ me that it was too late. Tellin’ me that he was gone.
And I remember that clutched in my hand was his half-burned Stetson hat.
*
I couldn’t stay at Blackwall after what happened that day. It wasn’t the fact that everyone knew that mah addictions had caused the death of a Guardian and they’d lost all respect for me as a result. It wasn’t the fact that I had my Huntmaster rank removed and was dishonourably demoted back to a Hunting Guardian, or even that Silence refused to have me in the team with them anymore. It was the fact that every single time I walked up the porch steps to the base entrance, I was reminded that I had killed my best friend, and that I would never be able to ask for his forgiveness.
The intel that’d leaked to us had been planted by the Bloodseekers themselves. They were members of the SOS and had agreed to a suicide pact in revenge for a mission that had happened several months before, where most of their kin had winded up being killed. It made no difference why the ambush had happened, or even what the mistakes were before the moment the grenade went off – that I had thought the gasoline smell was comin’ from the truck rather than the cellar, that I had gone in loud and unprepared without the support of the rest of my team, or that I had been too out of it to do the one thing that could have stopped the explosion. All that I cared about was that yet again addiction had destroyed a life…this time, Delagio’s.
It was at the funeral for my best friend that I decided once and for all to beat the demons of my addictions. I vowed that day at his graveside that I was going to the best damn Guardian and person I could…for him. I didn’t want to be Ricardo Diaz anymore, the selfish asshole who only cared about himself and had let addiction ruin his life, twice. I wanted to honour Kieran Delagio, the person who had always been a better man than me, right from the first day we met. The one who had always had my back, who had supported
me and tried to guide me in the right direction, and whose only crime had been to love me. So I went to Sage Navarro and requested a transfer. He didn’t put up any fight – I think he wanted me gone to be honest. He gave me the option of pretty much anywhere, and I chose England.
Before I left, I begged him to seal my records as Ricardo Diaz, and that he let me become somebody else. Maybe he felt sorry for me, or maybe I had a few favours left in the bank after all the successful missions I’d performed for him, but he agreed. It was discussed with Sage Faru, who promised to keep an eye on me, and then that was it…I left everything and everyone I knew in Austin Texas.
And when I arrived at the Warren six years ago, it was as Delagio.
34
Gabriella
The bodies of the innocents I’d been forced to kill were still lying around us when the guards re-opened the large doors at the far end of the colosseum and unleashed a pack of snarling Skinshifters.
At the same time, the Pitguards threw a dozen silver swords down into the arena. They clattered and stabbing down into the ground around our feet. Unlike the Luminars I’d been forced to kill, it wasn’t clear if the shifters were prisoners too, or working for the colosseum. However, as the pack stormed towards us in a cloud of swirling dust, one thing was plainly clear.
They meant business.
I tossed my blades away and snatched one of the silver swords from the ground – the only substance that could stop a Skinshifter from regenerating. It’s us or them, I thought as I stepped in front of Troy and the wounded Grey.
“Arm yourselves and then get out of the way!” I shouted over my shoulder.
Troy scrambled for a couple of the swords and then dragged Grey to his feet, carrying the recovering Guardian to the side, whilst I squared my stance and stared at the mob of Skinshifters rushing towards me.
Five of them. Not good odds.
Narrowing my eyes, I scanned all of them for weaknesses. At a surface glance, they appeared almost identical, apart from the difference in fur shade. But a more careful look revealed things I could use to my advantage. I noticed the slight gait of the black-furred one on the far left, caused by a weak front paw; I identified that the grey one in the centre was blind in one eye; I saw that the bitch at the back was dehydrated, her tongue poking out the side of her sticky teeth, meaning she would be slower and less efficient in battle.
I turned and sprinted away from the rushing hounds, my heart hammering as the pack split apart and two of the shifters surged after me. My boots kicked up sand and the rough lining of the uniform chafed against my skin as I ran, feeling the Skinshifters closing in on me until I could sense them right on my heels. I reached the stone walls of the arena and jumped, using my momentum to run several feet up the wall before pivoting around and diving out of the sky, sword first.
The blade sank straight down into the space between the bitch Skinshifter’s eyes. She didn’t even make a sound as her legs gave out and she collapsed to the ground with me on top. The crowd let out a deafening roar of approval that thundered around the stadium. My sword was buried deep inside her skull, and I was trying to pull it free when my foot was seized into an agonising vice-like grip by the jaw of the Skinshifter with the bad paw.
The hound dragged me, scrambling and snatching along the sandy ground, and then started to shake me from side to side like a ragdoll. The only thing that stopped my leg from ripping right off was my boot coming loose. I flew through the air, landing hard and rolling to a stop, my face inches from the business end of a silver sword. The lock pick stabbed hard against my cheek and I winced as I felt blood fill my mouth. Spitting out blood, I turned to look at the Skinshifter. He kept shaking his head from side until he realised I was no longer attached, and then used his incisors to rip the boot to leather strips. Sitting up, I ignored my bloody, throbbing leg and stripped the dead man’s boot from my other foot, throwing it hard at the Skinshifter. He gave a howl as the heel bounced right off his forehead and then went somersaulting into the laughing crowd.
I turned to quickly check on Grey and Troy. They had the remaining three Skinshifters on them, but they were still alive and upright, and for now that was all I could hope for. I scrambled to my feet – trying to block the pulsing pain that was coming from my left ankle – and picked up two more of the silver swords, spinning them around and aiming at the Skinshifter.
“Come on mutt, let’s get this over with!” I yelled.
The shifter reared up onto his hind legs and let out a lingering howl, before hitting the ground with a deafening shudder. He wobbled slightly as he landed, confirming what I thought about the weakness in his right paw.
The hound lowered his head and charged at me, jaws wide and saliva spilling between knife-sized teeth. I waited until he was almost on me and lunged forward, jabbing out with the sword. The blade tip hit nothing but air as the Skinshifter jumped right over me, landing behind with a thump and using his tail to sweep my legs from underneath me. My shoulders hit the ground first and I gasped in pain as the rough lining of my jacket drew blood. The shifter turned his head sideways and snapped his jaws at me. I rolled away. He bounded after me, chomping his jaws relentlessly and I kept rolling over in the dirt, each one of his attacks missing me by inches. On the last roll, I swiped outwards with the sword and sliced a deep gash in his already wounded paw. The creature gave a howl of agony and limped away, giving me enough time to get to my feet.
“Archers!” shouted Lilith above the thundering chants of the crowd. “I grow bored. Make this more interesting.”
I glanced around in time to see a series of guards appear at the uppermost tier of the arena, each one sporting a large black bow and a full quiver of arrows. They all nocked their bows and tilted backwards, aiming towards the sky above the arena.
“Aerial attack!” I screamed, pointing up at the aiming archers. All it took was for that brief moment of distracted attention and the Skinshifter was back on me, butting me with his massive head and sending me sprawling across the arena, sword skittering from my grasp. The hound lumbered towards me, ramming me again as I tried to get to my feet. I flipped over like a tossed toy, feeling the agonising crack as several ribs broke.
A cloud of arrows thundered down into the arena, hitting the ground all around me. I scrambled to get back upright and away from the arrows, but the moment I was on my legs the Skinshifter butted into my stomach, driving all the air from my lungs. I hit the side of the arena and bounced away, tumbling down onto my front. Suddenly my lungs were too small and the air too thin. I gasped and retched, trying to fight against the spasms of my diaphragm. A couple of the arrows thudded into the Skinshifter’s side and he let out an infuriated series of barks as blood leaked from his hide. I took the opportunity to dive for a sword, still gasping for air as I stretched out for the hilt just a foot away from me.
An arrow pierced the back of my hand.
Nausea came first as I stared at the long metal shaft, the dark feather vanes and the adamantine arrowhead poking out of my palm and pinning my hand to the dusty ground. The pain came soon afterwards. A scream ripped from my lungs, reduced to a hoarse wheeze by the lack of oxygen. Resisting the urge to throw up, I wrapped my free hand over the arrow shaft and tugged.
It wouldn’t come free.
The Skinshifter lumbered towards me again, his bad paw raised a few inches off the ground. I yanked at the arrow again, but the adamantine head was buried deep into the sandy ground and I couldn’t get it to come out. Above, I saw the archers nocking their second round of arrows and tilted back to fire. The Skinshifter realised I was a sitting target and let out a guttural howl, his red eyes glinting in the intense sunlight as he bowed his head and prepared to finish me off.
“Help!” I screamed with as much energy as I could. The words managed to escape, mixing with the frenzied roars of the spectating Populace. I raised my forearm to protect against the inevitable onslaught, and out the corner of my eye I saw two things.
One: The arc
hers releasing their arrows.
Two: Troy breaking free from the dead Skinshifter at his feet and throwing his hands out towards the arrows.
I didn’t know what he was doing until he had done it. The hailstorm of arrows changed their trajectory suddenly, straightening up and shooting horizontally across the arena a few feet above my head. The Skinshifter released a series of stunted squeals as dozens of arrows punched into his side with so much force they carried him to the edge of the arena and pinned him to the wall, like some kind of mounted display. The creature let out a mournful howl and then his head slumped forward, releasing a stream of blood from his mouth.
Wow.
I sat up, taking a few deep breaths and forcing my diaphragm to work properly. Through pure will I managed to settle it and precious oxygen re-entered my lungs. Pressing my bare feet to the ground, I wrapped my free hand around the shaft of the arrow and pulled with all of my strength, using my feet as levers. The arrow released and I was thrown onto my backside. I touched a hand against the arrow shaft. Only the head is adamantine metal. That’s good at least.
I shut my eyes and took a deep breath before snapping the shaft in one quick movement and pulling it out of my hand. I allowed one stifled sob of pain and then I threw the broken parts of the weapon away and jumped to my feet, running over to Troy and Grey.
The three Skinshifters they had been fighting were dead. Apart from the silver swords stuck into their skulls, one was missing the bottom part of its jaw and the other two had been burned to a crisp. Troy was doubled over, blood seeping from his nose from the effort of the telekinesis, and Grey was slumped against the wall next to him, his hands cultivating two balls of fire that crackled in his palms.
The Veil Page 48