“They’ve defeated you twice before.”
“Not necessarily. While the kill team failed, we still succeeded in reinforcing the atmosphere of fear. I have another op planned to take care of them again.”
“We do not tolerate enemies or failure. See to it that they are disposed of.”
“Understood.”
He hung up and steepled his fingers. He hadn’t expected Hexenhammer to put up so much of a fight. They were civilians after all. Unusually well-motivated and -equipped, perhaps, but civilians all the same. He had personally ensured that they wouldn’t be able to stand up to a team of real killers.
So how in the hell had Eve managed to defeat him twice?
That bitch was luckier and more resourceful than he had thought. Covenanting with a god? That was unheard of. And her ally, the one who had covenanted with Hakem, had to be a Bahith. Why would Eve ally herself with one?
Sure, covenanting with the divine explained her successes, but if he told his bosses about that, they’d think he’d lost his mind. Everybody knew that no human had ever contacted a god and that no god had ever intervened in the world.
He had to approach this obliquely. He’d have to order discreet inquiries and see if the Organization had found anybody known to have covenanted with higher-order beings. If he had proof—something that didn’t come from the mouth of a daimon—he could pursue the lead.
But that could wait until later. He had the perfect bait now. A prime opportunity to finish off Hexenhammer once and for all. Whether she lived or died after that would be immaterial.
But if she died, all the better.
Standing, he sighed deeply and stretched. He’d been spending too much time sitting down. His back was sore and his legs stiff. He longed for a cigar, too, but that would have to wait until he had earned it.
He spent a few minutes staring out the window, drinking in the green that stretched before him. There was nothing but grass and mountains and clear blue sky for miles and miles before him. Pity he’d have to abandon the safe house as soon as the job was done.
He returned to his slate and threw himself back to work. Justifying his absence to his employers was easy; he told them he was off to meet his foreign counterparts, and nobody would ask too many questions about what he did so long as the paperwork was submitted on time. He already had his contact report written up and ready to go.
He studied a pile of emails and scoured the Dark Web, letting details flood his brain. Hexenhammer was on the run. They had abandoned all their forums on the affiliate websites, communicating only by email and the odd post on the Hexenhammer forum.
They trusted him to guide them to safety. And guide them he did—into the waiting arms of the police or the guns of his kill teams.
Deception was easy. Deception without getting caught required art. He communicated mainly with the junior members, those who didn’t know how to contact the senior members to verify his words. To the seniors, he fed them intelligence, true or otherwise, persuading them to head to certain safe houses, where the giants were waiting.
Eve had made it so easy for him. When Hexenhammer began, he had brought up the question of rogue operations. Eve had stewed over it for days, finally turning to him for help. He suggested implementing the blockchain for “internal transparency,” and Eve, idealist that she was, had lapped it all up. She had never even considered that the blockchain made Hexenhammer vulnerable to anyone who could access it.
Or that it could be used to turn Hexenhammer against itself.
Still, this was no time to be careless. He read and reread his communiques, comparing them against his web of lies. Successful lies had three elements: consistency, commitment, believability. He measured his words against his benchmarks, watching for intersections between each skein of deceit.
His phone rang. He glanced at the number and answered the call.
“I’m five minutes out,” the caller said.
Excellent. He finished what work he could. Exactly on time, he saw a car pull up into the driveway.
The handler stepped out into the living room. Two men in dark suits waited for him. He nodded at them. They stood at the corners, their hands resting at their beltlines.
The doorbell rang. The handler opened the door, revealing a man in a blue suit. The visitor was merely thirty-five, but the lines around his eyes and the gray in his hair suggested otherwise.
“Mike, glad you could make it,” the handler said.
“It’s been a long time,” Mike replied.
The men shook hands. The handler led him inside.
“These gentlemen are Adam and Tomas,” the handler said. “They’ll be handling security for us.”
“Our people?” Mike asked.
“Yes,” the handler lied. “These are difficult times.”
“Yeah.” Mike glanced around. “You said my family is staying here now.”
“That’s right. They’re bedded upstairs. Come with me.”
The handler led Mike up the stairs. Adam and Tomas hung back, staying behind Mike.
“Was it difficult getting here?” the handler asked.
“Very,” Mike said. “The border guards are on high alert. But the ID you provided held up.”
“It was the least I could do.” Reaching the upper floor, the handler opened the door to the master bedroom. “Here they are.”
Mike smiled, entering the room.
Took one step.
Froze.
There were three chairs in the room. A woman sat in the middle chair, her hands ziptied to the armrests, her ankles bound to its legs. A thick black hood covered her head. A boy sat to her left and a girl to her right, similarly bound and hooded. Their clothes were ripped and filthy. Behind the prisoners, two men stood guard.
“What the…” Mike began.
Adam grabbed him from behind, snaking his arms under his armpits and lacing his hands behind his neck. Mike gasped. Tomas roughly patted him down, removing a pocket knife.
The handler nodded at the guards. They stepped forward, pulling off the hoods.
The prisoners’ eyes widened in shock. They struggled against their bonds, but the other three men held them in place. They tried to speak, but their mouths were stuffed with cotton wool and sealed with tape, and all they managed were muffled whines.
“Here’s your family, as promised,” the handler said.
“You SON OF A BITCH!” Mike roared.
“Now, now, that’s not polite.”
The handler reached into a pocket, extracting a giant syringe. He held it to the light, checking for air bubbles.
“What’s this? What are you doing?”
The handler jammed the needle into Mike’s thigh and hit the plunger.
“What did you do to me?” Mike demanded.
“Just something to ensure your cooperation.” The handler took out his phone, opening an app. A single red button appeared on the screen.
“Nanotechnology is a wonderful thing,” the handler said calmly. “It gave us medical machines, anti-radiation treatments… and explosives.”
“Explosives?” Mike whispered.
“Yes. There are now millions of nanomachines circulating inside you. Completely benign, but all of them hold a single drop of high explosive. If I press this button, they will clump together in your heart and detonate. The blast will kill everyone in the room. Including your family. If you resist, I’m going to press the button. Do you understand?”
Mike glowered, pressing his lips together. “I don’t believe you.”
The handler’s finger hovered over the button. “If you’re willing to kill your family, go ahead.”
“You’ll kill yourself, too!”
“What about it?” the handler said, injecting calm into his voice. “My plans will continue, with or without me.”
Mike shook his head. “How could you do this?”
“I am a true believer. Just like you.” His finger lowered ever so slightly. “There’s no bluff to call
, Mike. Either we talk, or we die together.”
Mike stared at the finger. Closed his eyes. Swore. Loudly, continuously and profanely. Finally, he looked back up at the handler.
“What do you want?” Mike demanded.
“I need you to do one thing for me. Just one thing, and I will release your family.”
“Why should I trust you?”
“Do you think I like doing this?” The handler shook his head. “I understand what you’re going through. I have a family myself. But I must have your cooperation. Or your family will pay the price. Look at them.”
The boy was trying his best to be stoic, but he was looking at the floor and refused to make eye contact. The girl cried through her gag, tears running down her cheeks. The woman struggled against her bonds, her cheeks flushed, her voice reduced to muffled nonsense.
“You’ll kill us anyway,” Mike said.
“This is a rough business, but we’re not barbarians. If you do what we ask, we’ll have no reason to harm them.”
“You are a liar! Just push the button and get it over with!”
The handler shook his head. “I’m not that stupid, and neither are you. You’re a Kraken. After Eve, you have the highest kill count in Hexenhammer. You’ve got a talent for wet work. It’d be a waste to kill you if I don’t have to.”
The woman stopped struggling and looked at Mike with a strange expression.
“You never told your wife?” the handler said. “Oh, dear. You mean all this time she thought you were just a regular traveling salesman? Wonder what she thought of the bodyguards you hired for her. Did she think–”
“Leave my family out of this!” Mike snapped.
“It’s too late, Mike. But as I said, you’ve got talent. If you cooperate, killing you would be such a waste.”
He snorted. “I’m not a traitor like you.”
“Me? Traitor? No. I have always been faithful to my cause.”
“What cause?”
The handler held up Mike’s head, looking at him in the eyes.
“We fight for the same thing. A better world. A world without war, without suffering. A world where our families can grow up in peace and safety. Surely you can respect that.”
Mike spat, barely missing the handler’s eye.
“With methods like this?” Mike demanded. “You are insane.”
The handler wiped off his cheek. “I thought you were a reasonable man. Tomas. The boy.”
Tomas drew a pistol from his hip and aimed at Mike’s son. The captives stared at the weapon, writhing in terror. The boy said nothing, but a dark pungent pool gathered at his crotch. The guards stepped clear of his line of fire.
“You wouldn’t–” Mike began.
“I do,” the handler said. “One way or another, I will have your cooperation.”
“You asshole! You’re going to–”
“Tomas. Ankle.”
Tomas shifted aim and fired.
The boy’s left foot erupted in a welter of blood. The boy screamed and thrashed against the restraints. The females stared in shock and then broke into tears.
“YOU SON OF A BITCH! YOU’LL BURN IN HELL!”
The handler nodded coldly. “I expect so.”
“You’re a monster!”
“Yes. And we can do this all day and night. So. Will you help us? Or shall I have Tomas shoot your boy again?”
“You BASTARD!”
“Just one word. Yes. Or. No.”
“Yes! Yes, you assholes, YES!”
The handler smiled. “Tomas. See to the boy.”
Tomas reached into a pocket, removing a first aid pouch. Then, he tended to the wound.
“The Unmaker will take you for what you’ve done,” the Kraken whispered.
The handler shook his head. “No. We will take him.”
***
The Stormbringer’s return to Tartaros was but a brief respite. Knowing the humans, they would imprison him within a body as soon as one was available. He had no time to waste.
After what they’d done in Gaea, any mere mortal would be damned. As he sank through the darkness, he sent a small part of him to discuss the situation with Tilphousia. She simply smiled and shook her head.
“You acted under compulsion. Your body and your will were not your own. How can I hold you responsible? I wish only that my powers could reach into Gaea, that I may help free you. So long as you keep trying to free yourself, I hold you blameless.”
“They will keep demanding more dark deeds from us,” the Stormbringer replied.
“Which will only grow your fearsome reputation. When you break free of their bonds once and for all, your enemies will come to regret the day they reached into Tartaros.” She grinned, her teeth glistening against blood-red lips. “Besides, your duty is not to the humans. It is to the gods.”
He had never seen the gods after he was posted here, but Tilphousia spoke for them, and that was good enough for him.
Returning to the blood-soaked field, he found an empty spot and erected a crimson tent. He called to him those who had been summoned alongside him, and the moment they were inside he sealed the flap against unwanted visitors.
Gathering his kin in a circle, he said, “What have you learned about our bonds?”
“They are most difficult to unbind,” Farsight said. “I fear even I cannot perceive what they are made of.”
Beside him, the giant Thunderhands growled. “Indeed. Their magic limits our ability to perceive and act upon the curse. We cannot unbind what we cannot see.”
“A most complex magic,” the Stormbringer mused. “What manner of magician can do this?”
“It may come from the one who styles himself the Lightbringer,” Thunderhands said.
The rest of the giants howled uproariously. The Stormbringer held up a hand.
“Peace,” he said. “Why do you say it comes from him?”
“He is one of the few beings with dominion over us. One of the few who can command and bind us at leisure. And one of the few greater beings known to intervene in Gaea. I would not be surprised if he taught the humans his magic.”
The Stormbringer stroked his chin. “An interesting hypothesis. The magic we have felt is unlike anything the humans have done. If it came from him, it explains why we are unable to lift it.”
The hissing of serpents filled the tent. With one hand, Venomtongue petted the snakes that made up his feet.
“Surely there is something we can do,” Venomtongue said. “We defeated Titans! A mere fallen angel is nothing! I say we storm the Basileon Abyssou and demand that he free us!”
The giants raised their fists and their voices in acclaim. The Stormbringer again held his hands up.
“If he were any other being, that would be our first choice. But that one’s power rivals that of the gods. In his home, he is practically invincible, and the last thing we need is to be leashed to his service into perpetuity. More importantly, we have neither evidence of guilt nor leverage to compel him. This is our last option, not our first.”
“We can’t just sit here and wait for the humans to Call us again,” Venomtongue insisted.
“Indeed. I have noticed something peculiar about the compulsion magic.”
“Speak, sir, and let us hear your thoughts.”
“In that last battle against the covenanters, when they picked us off one by one, only I remained functional at the end. I deliberately stepped out of cover and charged them. A futile gesture: my body was destroyed shortly. But it illuminates the limits of the humans’ magic.”
“I do not understand.”
“We were specifically ordered to slay the humans. The magic did not specify how we did it so long as we accomplished the task. I tried clearing my mind, but the magic burned me and prevented me from doing so. I thought of retreating out the back, and again I was burned. But when I thought about retreating out the back door so I could flank the enemy, the magic eased. And when I thought of charging them head on, again, the magic did
nothing. Never mind that it guaranteed my body’s destruction; I was still permitted to think such thoughts.
“I believe that the humans’ magic only requires us to obey the letter of our orders. Not their spirit.”
“An interesting observation, sir,” Venomtongue said, “but I fail to see how we may turn this against our enemies.”
“We can simply fling ourselves headlong at our targets until they cut us down,” Farsight suggested. “Once the enemy decides they have expended too many resources for too little gain, they will cease annoying us.”
“Brother! We are giants!” Thunderhands chided. “Such craven behavior is unworthy of us!”
“And this is how the humans’ magic guarantees our obedience,” he said. “War is in our nature, and so long as we stay true to our nature, we conspire with our captors to remain in slavery.”
“Perhaps there is a better way,” Venomtongue mused.
“Speak, brother,” the Stormbringer said.
“Thus far the humans have restricted us from manifesting the full range of our powers. Suppose, then, they find themselves in a situation where they cannot help but require us to utilize our full power.”
“The same power that brought the Titans low,” Farsight added.
“Such power would be destructive beyond human reckoning,” the Stormbringer said. “And it would be a tragedy if our controllers were caught in their area of effect.”
“A tragedy indeed,” Thunderhands agreed.
“How about it, brothers?” the Stormbringer said. “Should we have a chance to unleash our full might, we shall lay waste to the world around us. Thus shall we avenge ourselves upon those who enslave us.”
Great cheers filled the tent. But Farsight raised a hand.
“Sir, what about the covenanters? Especially she who has covenanted with Sol Invictus?”
“Our mission to protect Tartaros and to contain the Titans remains unchanged. No human may interfere with that sacred duty. If Sol Invictus wishes to challenge us, he can come here and tell us himself.”
“If I may, sir, that is a bold statement,” Farsight said mildly.
“Have any of us seen the gods since our descent?”
None of the other giants replied.
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