Thornfalcon (The ARC Legacy Book 1)

by Matthew W. Harrill

  “I'm not an angel without my wings. I can't just walk back into Heaven.”

  “Well somebody thinks you are, and whoever gave you this design must have done their job diligently. Maybe it's not what anybody else believes, but what you consider to be the truth that's most prevalent here. Let's get you out of there.”

  Io's voice was filed with doubt as he said, “If in his heart, he has forsaken Heaven we are in trouble. If Karael has fallen then this is all a set up. Aeon Fall wanted an angel who was able to create a doorway to heaven. They don't need me for that. However, if I'm in a convenient place, to be kept until needed…”

  One of the black-ops guards moved to take position in front of the trap. Samantha stepped around him, but he blocked her way.

  “What are you doing?” Eva said. “Stand aside.”

  “Sorry, Director. I cannot.” The agent raised his rifle across his chest, a sign he was ready for action. “Please don't take another step toward the prisoner.”

  “The prisoner?” Samantha repeated. “He's no prisoner. He's my friend.”

  She took a quick step around the guard, intending to scuff the edge of the trap. There was a black blur and a flash of pain. Before she knew what was happening, Samantha tasted dirt, her vision full of the guards' boots.

  “I'm sorry, Miss. I did warn you.”

  Not prepared to give up, she reached out to the trap. The guard's foot stamped down on her hand and she screamed in pain.

  “Do that again and I break your fingers, Miss.”

  “What's wrong with you?” Eva shouted. Everything had happened so quickly. Her mother tried to approach.

  The second guard appeared, rifle raised. “Don't, Ma'am. You take one more step and I'll be forced to fire.”

  “On whose say-so? You do realise I'm a director of ARC?”

  “But you're not the only director,” a voice said from the shadows of the stairwell.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Who was it speaking? A man? Samantha strained to see from her position on the earth.

  “Back,” the guard indicated with the muzzle of his rifle. “Real slow. You'd look strange with a missing limb.”

  Climbing to her feet, she nursed her sore hand, sharing a look with Io. He seemed more concerned about her well-being than his current predicament, still pushing against the invisible wall that held him. Her eyes on Io, she backed away from the trap. “This isn't over.” She turned to look past her mother. “You?”

  Thorsten Guyomard stared back, his face beaming with triumph. “Well isn't this a bit of luck. We hook ourselves a nice fat fish and he has the good grace to jump into the boat.”

  “Thorsten, explain yourself. The council wouldn't want this.”

  “The council?” Thorsten spat back. “ARC. Just another family dictatorship with too much power. How is the name of Guyomard any better than the name of Kim in North Korea? Or indeed the name of Scott? In only twenty years your family has come to dominate hundreds of years of history. Dictatorships can be toppled. Will be toppled.”

  “You're them,” Samantha realised aloud. The situation had suddenly turned from serious to grave. “A member of the council, a Guyomard, and you're Aeon Fall?”

  “It's a philosophical choice, one made most poignant when standing in the presence of the Devil's whore and their degenerate offspring. There's a new power rising, ladies.” He turned to Io. “Tell me about the Godmissile.”

  Io looked stunned. “How could you possibly know about that?”

  “Tell me. Tell me everything. How it fires, how to access it. Everything.”

  Samantha leaned in close to her mother. “Godmissile?” she whispered.

  “I've no clue,” Eva replied. “Ioviel, don't say a word. The council will come to find us.”

  “No, they won't,” contradicted Thorsten. “The ARC Council has little regard for a director who has proven once again just how much of a poisoned chalice the Technology and Development wing can be. They have about as much concern for her wayward daughter as well as a junior member who is only present because he bears the name Guyomard. About now, they will be in session. With ten of the twelve present they will conveniently overlook our absence as they debate how to react to the revelation of the first nuclear facility to go critical.”

  “It's not been five days yet,” Samantha replied.

  Thorsten laughed. “Aeon Fall can strike any place, any time. We have no need to hide our plans and nor have we any need to stick to our threats. While they attempt to stave off a disaster, Porter Rockwell and his own tame angel are on the way to claim their prize. Until then…”

  Thorsten placed a case similar to that which had carried the Helltech pistol on the ground, unlatching it with careful hands. “Now, Angel. Tell me all about the Godmissile.”

  Io stood resolute, his hands dropped to his sides. “I will do no such thing.”

  Thorsten detached an object from the inside of his case, holding it pointed at Io. “Sure?”

  Io remained unmoved, saying nothing.

  Thorsten smiled. “Let's see if we can't loosen your tongue a bit. I'm glad I finally have a chance to use this.” He turned to Eva. “You didn't think you were the only one working on technology from your blessed body armor, did you Eva?”

  While still watching her mother, Thorsten squeezed the trigger. Two projectiles shot into Io's chest, connected to the weapon by wires. A blue glow followed the instant the darts had hit their mark. Io threw his head back and screamed in pain, dropping to his knees and leaning up against the invisible barrier.

  Samantha tried to move but her mother held her firm. “You take one step and they'll shoot,” she said straight into Samantha's ear.

  Neither of the guards had moved a muscle, both facing them, hands gripping their guns like claws.

  After nearly thirty seconds of screaming, the blue glow faded. Io slumped to the floor, gasping.

  “The only drawback with this weapon is the power source,” he said conversationally, letting the weapon hang from one finger as he gesticulated. “Takes thirty seconds or so to recharge. However, despite the short bursts, it can go on forever. Great little gizmo, this. Ioviel, the Godmissile, if you please.”

  “No,” Io muttered from between clenched teeth.

  “Excellent!” Thorsten declared, setting the room blue once more with the glow of his torture device.

  Io's screams this time drowned out anything Samantha's mother tried to say to her. She ended up putting her hands over her ears. When Io stopped screaming, she took a deep breath. Her throat hurt and she realised she had been screaming too.

  “You bastard,” she croaked.

  “Possibly,” he retorted. “I was never really convinced my father was really my father. Ioviel, dear chap, do you have anything to say on the Godmissile now?”

  Io drooled onto the earth. “I am a warrior of Heaven. You're never leaving Hell.”

  “We shall see. You don't need to be alive when my master gets here, you know? You just need to die for your little girlfriend over here. And you will die for her. You and I are now going to have a nice long talk, Ioviel. And if you don't tell me everything I wish to know, when she returns, I'm going to use this weapon on her. If it can do this to you, a great and mighty angel, just imagine the damage it might inflict on a mere mortal.”

  He turned to the guard who had stamped on her hand. “Keep them nearby, but isolated. If either of them attempt to flee, or cause any sort of outcry, shoot the other.”

  “In the knee?”

  “In the head.”

  * * *

  Samantha said nothing initially as she followed her mother back up the stairs. The guard behind them felt perilously close with his rifle. She had to trust entirely on her mother remaining steadfast.

  “You realise this isn't the winning side you've chosen?” Samantha queried aloud after they were well out of earshot of Thorsten Guyomard.

  Eva stopped and turned, her face questioning.

  Samanth
a indicated with a twist of her head she meant the guard.

  “Keep moving,” he growled, shoving the muzzle into her back.

  Samantha jumped at the contact; the pain of metal being rammed into her spine was sharp and sudden. She continued her ascent.

  In the hallway at the top of the stairs, their guard pulled the door as closed as was possible with thick black cable wedged in the doorway and shoved Samantha sideways. Eva caught her mid stumble and led the way, not even acknowledging the guard.

  Behind them, another heart-rending scream echoed up into the hallway.

  “Thorsten's working him hard,” Samantha said. “I don't think he's gonna last.” She stopped against a door and pretended to sob. “I don't think I can do this.”

  Eva leaned over to comfort her. “He's made of stern stuff.”

  Samantha dropped to the ground, still sobbing, looking like she would never stand again.

  Frustrated by this odd turn of events, the guard poked at Eva with his gun. “Get her up.”

  “Can't you see she's distraught?” Eva shot back. “Give her a moment, for pity's sake.”

  The guard poked her again. “Get inside this room. It'll do for storing you.”

  Her mother made a grand show of hauling her up. “Open the door then.”

  With reluctance the guard did so one-handed, still pointing his rifle at them. “In.”

  Samantha shuffled through the doorway, dropping to the floor on the other side.

  “I hope for your sake you win,” Eva said to the guard, who smiled back.

  “We will. If I see that handle even twitch I'll shoot through the door. So sit tight, like good little mice, till the boss comes calling.” He slammed the door shut.

  * * *

  Once they were alone, Samantha looked up, all traces of hysterics gone. The room was dark and musty. It hadn't been used in a while. She turned one of the lights on, illuminating a room more like a library than somebody's personal chamber. A thin veneer of dust covered everything in the room.

  “Good,” she said.

  “Nina's room,” her mother said, her face solemn.

  “I miss her too, and I worry, Mom.”

  “You've heard nothing more? Not a word?”

  “Not since Port Moresby. She sounded like she was getting real deep.” Samantha unshouldered her rucksack, pulling the twin crow books from the pocket within. She held up the book recovered from the jungle. “This we found in Papua New Guinea, where we were set up.” She pulled out her first book. “This was given to me by my sister, here, in this room. It was part of the library recovered from Castle Chillon after the demon attack before I was born. It's a fake. The co-ordinates hidden in the book were fake. I'm sorry, but you have to accept the possibility that at the very least Aeon Fall have tampered with this information. I've had this book for years. They're playing the long game.”

  Her mother appeared worried. “Are you saying Nina might be a dupe?”

  “That's what I hope. What if someone gave her the book in the hope of planting a seed ending in us going exactly where we went? What if they have been nurturing the tribe we found on a diet of drugs and false promises? There could be areas like that all over the world. Tell me, Mom. How well does anybody actually know Aeon Fall? They've got a former Shikari as their face. They've got one of our Council on their payroll. Maybe more.”

  “That's ludicrous, Sammy.” Eva crossed the room to sit on the edge of the bed, being careful to not disturb the dust. “I know them well.”

  “Do you? Are you sure?”

  “John, Gila, and Swanson are beyond reproach, as is Forrest and my sister.”

  “Half of the council,” Samantha said, her voice flat, her words filled with cynicism. She began to explore the room, poking through the ancient texts that filled an entire wall of the room.

  “Jeanette has looked out for me since day one. Mohammed is one of my oldest friends. Tricia is just about the sweetest person you could meet and Gaspard has been around since probably before I was born. He's earned the trust of everyone.”

  “If you call such bonds trust, you've still got two. Our friend downstairs, lest you forget, is a Guyomard. They have certain privileges when it comes to this council.”

  Her mother's face went pale. Samantha referred to the clause in the ARC charter that allowed a descendent of Jerome Guyomard to take direct control of the ARC council in certain situations, such as a nuclear incident. “He wouldn't.”

  “Put Swanson out of the picture, and he certainly could try. One assumes at this juncture he is meant to be the natural successor, the stopgap in case a fouler fate befalls his cousin. Remember it's not a few days since Daniel lost his life, and so much has happened since then. We can't let events overtake us without paying attention to the facts. Which leaves us with Alexander Steadman. A man in charge of books. He has unparalleled knowledge of both ARC and the unspoken history of the world.”

  “Sammy, just because he's the curator of our libraries, it doesn't implicate him in subverting your sister.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” Samantha moved from the bookshelves to the writing desk her sister had installed, a solid piece of teak furniture with drawers down on one side. “It does give him plenty of access and through him the wrong person could do a lot of damage.” The drawers weren't locked and Samantha began to leaf through the contents.

  “Ah, here it is,” Samantha said after a moment, picking up a key from the second drawer and holding it up for her mother to see. “This might come in useful.”

  “What does it open?”

  Samantha crossed the room past her mother to an area of blank wall. “Scream. Curse. Throw some books around,” she whispered.

  Eva looked at her like she was mad for a moment and then nodded. “A distraction.” She began to shriek, grabbing book after book and hurling them at the door.

  Samantha ran her hands over the surface of the wall, the wooden panelling rough against her skin. Undeterred by the stabs of pain from small splinters, she kept moving until she found a spot different from the rest—softer, more pliant. She pushed and a small section of the panel dropped back, revealing a keyhole. “Jackpot!” Sliding the key in, she opened a panel in the wall two metres high.

  Eva stopped, staring at what was revealed behind.

  From the other side of the door came a dark chuckle from their guard, “Scream all you want, ladies. This part of the castle is secure. Pretty soon we'll have the entire compound locked down, so you're wasting your breath.”

  Samantha nodded at her mother and whispered, “Recognise this?”

  “I thought these were lost,” Eva replied, her voice a little choked up. What she referred to were combat suits. Black ops, figure hugging and most importantly woven from a material that made them as good as bulletproof.

  “Not lost, just re-appropriated. Nina thought that storage in wooden crates in the archives wasn't the right place for such history. From what I understand the second suit was Gila's.”

  “Are they still intact?”

  “Yes, Mom. And they come with most of their original kit, including new night vision apparatus that replaces what you lost. Now put it on.”

  Eva smiled. “Sammy, those days have long since gone.”

  “You'll need it. Gila's suit fits me, Mom. I've worn it before. Put yours on. It's gonna get dark real soon and we're ending this little insurrection before it starts.”

  Now clearly intrigued by her daughters' intent, Eva began to quietly slip into the black-ops suit. The change in dynamic between mother and daughter was absolute. Samantha was the one with the plan. Taking mere moments to slip out of her worn and dirty clothes and into the snug and surprisingly warm combat gear, she turned to look at the desk once again. “Something doesn't ring true about those drawers.” Closing the hidden closet, she opened the drawer that had contained the key, pulling it all of the way out. Look. There's nothing in here, yet it's really heavy.”

  “It's teak, dear. Teak's heavy.”


  “Yeah but look at the depth of the inside. The base is shallower by a good inch or more than the outside of the drawer. Start screaming again.”

  Eva grinned, letting loose with invective enough to turn anybody's cheeks to flaming. As she began to hurl books, Samantha raised the drawer and dashed it to the stone floor. The drawer remained mainly intact and for a moment Samantha's heart sank. Then she noticed the inside had come loose.

  “A false bottom.” She pried at the wood with an energy born of desperation. “There's something inside.” Her hands were frenetic as she furiously pulled at the wood until it finally came away.

  “A book?” Eva said, looking over her shoulder.

  “Yeah, a book. Like these,” Samantha pulled the matching set from her bag and replaced them with the book from the compartment, “except this one is real. We'll look at it later. For now, put your headgear on. The wiring down here was only meant to be temporary. It's about to get real dark. Fill the sink.” Samantha grabbed the wiring on the nearest wall and yanked hard, pulling it free. With a snap she pulled the plug from one end, exposing the naked wires.

  Eva turned the tap on full and let it run. “Ready.”

  Samantha grinned. “Here goes nothing.” She dropped the wires into the pooling water. Blue sparks of electricity flared up for a moment. In the distance there was an explosion.

  The room went dark.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The door clicked as their captor unlocked the gate to their prison. On the far side, in the pitch black of Nina's chamber, Samantha watched in silence.

  “I know you're in here,” the guard growled.

  Samantha could just feel the words 'Oh please.' coming from her mother. She smiled. With the Shikari headgear on, the room was an eerie shade of green but the guard was totally blind.

  “You come out now, identify yourselves and I'll make sure no harm comes to you.”

  Idiot.