Night Legions
Page 35
He bowed his head. Twenty-Seven and even Lillian imitated the gesture. Twenty-Seven found the priest’s words frighteningly accurate. Watching Ariel was like looking into a mirror, an alternate version of herself. The woman had struggled to find her place in the world, and despite it all, she persevered. Twenty-Seven needed to believe Ariel found peace in her last moments, a peace not even Ivan could stir.
“I see you, Ariel,” Azacca ended.
“I see you,” Twenty-Seven echoed.
“We see you.”
Twenty-Seven raised her eyes at the change in Azacca's tone. She followed his gaze out the window. A red flare soared into the air. The military had engaged. With casualties. Losses. The military was fighting, but now, they had no runners. Without the speedy Marines running through the city, they had no way to relay tactics about an ever-changing battlefield. The entire military command had fallen to Ivan’s infectious touch.
“I can hear|see|feel|speak with|to them|us.”
Out there, amongst the military, the Church of Nostradamus acted like human radios. Each voice spoke through the man, a living command center. And he, the only person capable of communicating, was looking to Twenty-Seven for guidance.
“Another flare.” Lillian pointed. More red. The military engaged them on all fronts. More flares soared into the air. Red. Red. Nothing but red.
“There are vehicles. Sirens. Chicago Police Department has arrived at the southern position. They’ve boxed in the synthetics,” Azacca reported.
Twenty-Seven found it terrifying to know Azacca watched the slaughter occur. From up here, all she could do was listen to the occasional explosion. Large caliber rounds were fired. Had tanks on the field started to advance? From here the bursts seemed fake, like part of a movie in the distance.
Another flare trailed into the air. A burst of yellow. Finally, a victory.
“They’re winning,” Twenty-Seven whispered.
“Chicago PD has heavy artillery. They’ve pushed back the synthetics. North. Synthetics have advanced. They’re being flanked. Nearly one hundred synthetics approaching from the east. Another sixty from the north.”
Azacca’s rough-skinned hand gripped her shoulder. Twenty-Seven rested her palm on his, craving physical closeness. She resisted the urge to take Lillian’s hand, unsure how she felt about the unlikely ally.
“They|We|I need orders.”
“There’s nobody left,” Twenty-Seven said. The General hadn’t lead this war. He relied on a specialized team of coordinators to fight this battle. Each of those analysts was now, like him, dead.
“We’re left,” Lillian said.
Azacca squeezed her shoulder. That single gesture spoke volumes.
Twenty-Seven didn’t know what they could do from here. Once a frightened housewife, Twenty-Seven never imagined a life as a soldier. It never occurred to her she’d be leader by process of elimination. She feared making bad decision resulting in the death of Marines. The fear took backseat as she thought of Ariel, a woman she needed to honor. Ariel would demand Twenty-Seven fight “Where’s the closest battalion?”
“Three|Seven|Unreachable blocks away.”
Lillian grabbed Twenty-Seven’s hand and pointed again. A bright light surged in a block near the battlefield. Twenty-Seven recognized the bright flash of chain lightning.
“Children.”
“One of your priests need to reach Conthan. If you can reach him—”
“I see him|Conthan|the Nighthawks|they’re alive.”
Twenty-Seven squeezed Lillian’s hand. They might only be allies because they wanted the same man dead, but in troubling times, that was enough. First, they’d win the battle. Then they’d regroup and take the fight to the Warden’s doorstep.
“Tell your priests to hang on, reinforcements are coming.”
Twenty-Seven imagined the flame, the part of Ariel that fought against the darkness. The light nearly vanished as the black void threatened to consume everything in its wake. Yet Twenty-Seven saw the flame not as a struggling lick of light, but a roaring fire, unyielding and impossible to extinguish.
“We fight for Ariel…”
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