"Could be," Talon said slowly, "I don’t know, but something tells me it was Gallow. It’s back. I just know it."
"Any way we can find out for sure?" the troll asked.
Talon nodded. "Yeah, but I’m going to have to get some rest before I try it."
Boom laid a hand gently on his shoulder. "Go ahead and catch some z’s," he said. "You’re no good to anyone if you exhaust yourself. I’ll keep an eye on things."
Talon went back to where they’d laid out some sleeping mats. He dropped onto it gratefully, but it was a long while before sleep came.
Talon tried to sleep, but his rest was fitful. He finally woke up in a cold sweat after another nightmare about Gallow and the death of the Asphalt Rats. He got up, and went into the kitchen, where Boom and Val had were laying out some takeout food. They all sat down at the rickety table to talk over deli sandwiches, except for Talon, who thought his work would go better on an empty stomach.
Roy Kilaro was in the same subdued mood as the previous night. The full reality of his situation was apparently just starting to sink in. He had probably never seen a neighborhood like the L-Zone, except maybe on the trid. Talon decided that if they had to keep Kilaro with them for awhile, they might as well put him to work doing something useful. It would also take his mind off his problems.
"What kind of deck have you got?" he asked, gesturing toward Kilaro’s gear bag. Kilaro didn’t answer right away, maybe wondering if Talon was planning to take it and sell it.
"Cross Babel-series," he said finally.
"Not bad," Val put in. "You any good with it?"
"What do you think? I found out about what was going on with Otabi, didn’t I?"
"The more I think about it," Boom said, "the more I think you were intended to find out about that, chummer. At the very least, your bosses decided it was in their interest to have someone to hang this on."
"Don’t forget I found out about the Pandora virus, too," Kilaro said defensively.
"Yeah, and led the Seraphim right to us," Hammer grumbled.
"I didn’t have any choice. . ."
"Doesn’t matter how we got here," Talon cut in. "We’ve got to deal with it. It’s a good thing you know how to use a deck, Roy. Without Trouble, we’re going to need you to dig up some data for us."
"I know a coupla other deckers, Tal," Boom said, but Talon shook his head.
"No, I don’t want anyone else to know about this. Not until we learn more about what’s going on and who we can trust."
"Does that mean you trust me?" Kilaro asked.
Talon gave a short laugh. "Not on your life, chummer, but if you frag us over, you’re going down with us. That’s reason enough to think you won’t. Anything more than that, you’ve got to earn it."
"What about the signature of his deck?" Val said.
"We’ve got Trouble’s emergency bag in the van," Talon said, then turned back to Kilaro. "Think you can swap out some of the chips in your deck for some of Trouble’s extras and load up some of her backup programs?"
Kilaro needed. "No problem if they’re compatible. Give me a microtronics tool kit and an hour or two, and I should be able to do the mods so my deck won’t leave fingerprints in the Matrix."
"You sure?" Talon asked.
"Don’t worry. I know all about the standard security measures in legit decks versus shadow cyberdecks. I’ve seen the mods lots of times. It’s all part of working in computer services. I know what I’m doing."
"Let’s hope so," Talon said.
"So what information am I after?" Kilaro asked.
"First, you’ve got to dig up the scan on what happened at Trouble’s place last night. We need to know more about it, especially whose body I found there. It might tell us where she is now."
"What about the Pandora virus?" Kilaro asked.
"That’s next," Talon said. "Find out what you can, but only after you track down the intel on Trouble’s place. Boom, can you talk discreetly to a few people about . . ."
"Wait a minute," Kilaro said. "That virus could kill thousands—tens of thousands—of people! And all you’re going to do about it is make some calls and have me dig around in the Matrix?"
"Listen, chummer," Talon said. "We didn’t ask for this run. We’ll do what we can to make sure no one gets killed, but you should understand one thing up front. My first loyalty is to the people on my team, and that includes Trouble. If she needs our help, then the rest of the plex is on its own. Besides, the thing she’s dealing with could be a hundred times worse than your virus if we don’t stop it now while we still can. Understand?"
"What could be worse than this stuff?" Kilaro asked.
"A rogue spirit named Gallow," Talon said. "It’s potentially more dangerous than any weapon. It’s done something with Trouble, and I want to know what." He turned to Hammer, who was washing down the last of his sandwich with a long swig from a can of soda.
"Hammer, talk to whoever you can trust on the military circuit. See if anyone has gotten their hands on something like this virus and who would have an immediate use for it."
"That’s a pretty tall order," Hammer said. "I can think of about a dozen right off who’d love to get their hands on something like that, but I’ll see what I can do."
Talon pushed his untouched food away and slid back from the table. "I’m going to do some astral work and see what else I can find out," he said. "I’ll probably be out of it for a while, so Boom, you’re in charge. Kilaro, get to work on your deck. Val can help you with it."
Val nodded and wiped her mouth with a paper napkin, then crumpled and tossed it on the table. She got up and went to get the tool kit they’d need to make the modifications to Kilaro’s deck.
Talon also grabbed his kit bag and got up to return to the other room. Boom reached out to stop him with one massive hand on Talon’s shoulder.
"You’re going to try and find out more about these visions of Jase, aren’t you?" he asked, though it wasn’t really a question.
"Boom, I’m no use to anybody until I figure out what the frag is going on," Talon said, "and I’m more convinced than ever that this whole thing ties in with Gallow somehow. It might be using something that looks like Jase to frag with my head or it might really be Jase trying to tell me something. Whatever it is, I can’t ignore it. Don’t worry. I’m not forgetting about Trouble, but we need to know what we’re up against if we’re ever going to find her."
Boom gave Talon a lopsided grin. "Hey, chummer, I wasn’t arguing with the magic expert. I just wanted to know the plan. For what it’s worth, I think you’re right. We’re all of us worried about Trouble, but I know we’ll get her back."
"I sure as hell hope so," Talon said.
That wasn’t entirely true. In his heart, Talon vowed to find Trouble and stop Gallow, no matter what it took. And if that meant he had to face down the Dweller on the Threshold again, he was ready for it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Talon spent an hour or so rearranging the hermetic circle to his liking. Then he went back to the kitchen to check in with Boom before he got started.
"How are Kilaro and Val doing?" he asked.
"We’re all set," Val said, coming into the room and wiping her hands on a dirty rag. "We made the mods to Kilaro’s deck, and he jacked in. Looks good so far, but I’m going to keep an eye on him in case something goes wrong."
"Or in case he decides to rat us out to his Seraphim buddies," Boom muttered.
"I don’t think so," Val said. "If he wanted to do that, he’s had opportunities before this. Just call it a feeling, but I think he’s for real. He’s been hung out to dry just as much as we have, even more. He didn’t really ask for this. At least we knew what we were getting into, sorta."
"Okay, keep an eye on him," Talon said. "I’m ready to get down to work. You guys know the drill."
"Right," Boom said. "Any idea how long this will take?"
"A while," Talon said.
"That’s helpful," the troll said dry
ly.
"It’ll take as long as it takes," Talon said. "At least a few hours or maybe as much as all day and all night. I don’t know for sure."
"Well, good luck, chummer."
"Thanks, old friend. I’m gonna need it."
Talon closed the plastic curtains behind him and stood in the center of the circle he’d drawn. He concentrated, and the candles around the outer edge of the circle sprang to life, casting a golden glow over the room. With the windows and door blocked off, they provided the only light.
"Aracos," he sent, and his ally spirit appeared before him in astral form, the silvery-gray wolf seeming to step from the shadows to enter the circle. Talon told his familiar to watch over him while he was traveling on the astral plane and to alert the others if anything went wrong. Then he lay down in the center of the circle, breathing deeply as he let his body relax completely. Soon he was in a deep and comfortable trance. He focused his intention on reaching the metaplanes to discover the truth of his visions. This time, nothing was going to keep him from his goal.
He felt a familiar sense of weightlessness, like he was floating in an endless void of nothingness. Then he saw a pinpoint of light in the distance and moved toward it. The light grew larger and larger, illuminating a dark tunnel down which he traveled, continuing toward the light. As the light grew brighter and closer, Talon could see a figure silhouetted by the brilliant glow, a shadowy shape that blocked the way between him and the light.
The Dweller on the Threshold.
As he approached, the Dweller moved toward him, its features becoming clearer. It appeared as a mirror image of Talon, wearing the same clothes and the same expression on its face.
"Don’t ask the question unless you want the answer," the Dweller said in Talon’s voice, then with a whoosh! the figure was surrounded in flames.
Talon didn’t flinch or fall back this time. He just looked directly at the Dweller’s fiery face.
"I want to know," he said and moved boldly forward. He could feel the heat of the flames, but ignored it. He passed through the burning figure as if it was nothing more than a hologram, an illusion. He could feel the heat, but it did not burn him. He moved toward the light that filled his field of vision, leaving the Dweller behind him. Whiteness was everywhere for a moment, like the blackness when he’d first entered the metaplanes, then the light dimmed.
Talon found himself standing in a corridor of rough-hewn stone. It was about three by three meters and stretched off into the darkness ahead of him. Behind him was a solid stone wall that did not yield to his touch. Flickering torches lined the walls of the corridor at intervals, shedding a faint light and making the shadows on the walls dance and leap.
Talon looked down and saw that he was wearing the same clothes as when he’d begun his journey, including his armored jacket. The front of his shirt was damp and sticky, with a livid red stain across it. He touched it, then brought his fingers to his lips.
It was blood, but not his. He didn’t seem to be injured in any way. He quickly checked for Talonclaw, and reassured himself that it was securely strapped to his hip. His gun, though, was missing from its holster. Talon didn’t miss it much. The mageblade was by far the superior weapon on the astral plane anyway.
He moved down the corridor and came to a T-intersection. The corridor looked the same in both directions, so Talon chose the right. He soon realized that he was inside some kind of maze. The corridors branched off regularly as the path twisted and turned, sometimes doubling back on itself, other times coming to a dead end, forcing him to retrace his steps to the last junction and take another route. The walls all looked the same as he went, and Talon wasn’t certain he could ever find his way back. The maze seemed to go on forever, with no sign of anyone or anything else. He wondered if it was a trap.
Talon had never heard of anyone being able to set up something like this, but who knew what abilities Gallow might possess? The Sixth World held more than its share of mysteries, and that included the limitations of magic and magical beings. These days, with the SURGE producing all kinds of new metagenetic changes because of an apparent spike in the levels of magic, that was truer than ever. He’d never seen a metaplane like this one. In fact, he wasn’t entirely sure which metaplane he was on.
How would he ever find his way back without some way of knowing where he’d already been? He remembered the story of Theseus, who marked his path with a thread given to him by Ariadne when he entered the labyrinth to fight the Minotaur. But Talon had no Ariadne and no thread. . .
His hand went to the front of his shirt. He touched the blood-soaked cloth and wiped his fingers against the wall, leaving a livid smear of blood, bright red against the dark stone. He grimaced and continued on, leaving a blood mark every few meters along the way. It helped him get a better feel for where he’d been, and he realized that he’d retraced his steps more than once. That allowed him to choose different paths with at least some clue about finding his way. The blood soaking the front of his shift never seemed to run dry, although Talon felt like he’d been walking for hours.
Finally, he came to a room, the first he’d seen since entering the maze. It was square, roughly ten meters across, with three other doors leading out of it. Was this the center of the maze, or just a part of it? Gods, did this thing go on forever?
He despaired of ever finding what he was seeking, but quickly pushed away the thought that he might never get out of here. More than a few magicians had gotten lost in the metaplanes, their spirits trapped and their bodies withering away without food and water. Some were kept on life support for years, complete vegetables. Had some of them stumbled into a place like this? Was it possible that there were places on the metaplanes from which there was no return?
I can’t just keep wandering forever, Talon thought, but that gave him an idea. He drew a small circle in blood on the stone floor. Stepping into the center, he raised his arms and began to intone in a strong voice, his words echoing strangely through the maze of corridors.
"I seek a guide to help bring me through this maze of confusion," he said. "Hear me, spirits of this place. Send me a guide to show me the way!"
Talon stood silently, straining to hear a reply as his words echoed—"way, way, way, way, way—and slowly died away. The echoes blended into the sound of footsteps coming ever closer, and a figure stepped through one of the doorways. She was human, hardly more than a girl, and dressed like a street kid. Her short hair was a vivid, almost neon purple. She wore a close-fitting Concrete Dreams T-shirt under a short synthdenim jacket, black shorts over torn fishnets, and black combat boots. Metal gleamed from the piercings through her ears, nose, and eyebrows. She looked strangely familiar, though Talon couldn’t quite place where he’d seen her before.
"Hello, Talon," she said. "You look kind of lost."
"I am," he admitted. "I could use a guide."
"That’s what I’m here for," she replied. "We owe you one."
"What do I call you?" Talon asked, politely refraining from asking the girl her name. "And who’s we?"
"You can call me Vi," she said, gesturing for Talon to approach. He took a few steps forward, and she turned toward the same doorway by which she’d entered. Talon caught his breath when he saw the logo emblazoned on the back of her jacket. She turned to look at him over her shoulder.
"You’re. . ." was all he could say.
The patch on the back of Vi’s jacket showed an evil-looking rat wearing a helmet and goggles and riding a motorcycle. It was the insignia of the Asphalt Rats gang.
"Yeah," she said. "One of the ones you killed. You don’t have to ask forgiveness. You already did that. You asked us back in the alley, and we gave it. We don’t hold a grudge. Being here changes the way you look at things. Like I said, we owe you one."
"I. . .thank you," Talon finished lamely, not knowing what else to say.
"Null sheen," Vi said. "You may not thank me when this is all over."
Then she continued down the tunnel, and
Talon picked up his pace to keep from losing her. Although she was shorter than Talon by at least a head, Vi moved rapidly. But then she could probably move as fast as she wanted to, Talon thought. The denizens of this place were not limited by the laws of the physical world.
He wondered briefly if he should continue to mark his path, just in case Vi wasn’t what she seemed. When he touched the front of his shirt, the blood was starting to dry. He almost said something to Vi, then changed his mind.
Vi led him through a maze of passages, so many that Talon was certain he’d be hopelessly lost if he tried to get back on his own. The light became dimmer as they went, the shadows heavier. In fact, the shadows were possessed of movement that had no relation to the light, as if they were alive. Then he saw another faint light ahead.
Vi slowed her pace and help up a hand for him to stop. "Here we are," she whispered.
"Where’s here?" Talon asked, and Vi pointed toward the end of the tunnel.
It opened out onto a sheer drop that plunged down as far as the eye could see, though a dull red glow came from somewhere below. It was a giant shaft cut from solid rock, at least thirty or forty meters wide, by Talon’s guess. Other tunnels led into it, some of them spouting a dirty-colored liquid, which fell away into the mist below. Hanging in the shaft were dozens of small metal cages, each suspended by a heavy chain that stretched upward into darkness, each at a slightly different level than the others and containing a huddled figure. Around the cages flew creatures resembling gargoyles, demonic figures carved from the same stone as the walls, with curling horns, batlike wings, and hands and feet tipped with sharp claws. Some alighted on the tops of the cages or clung to the chains, while others lofted about, completely silent except for the beating of their wings against the hot, misty air.
"Welcome to hell," said Vi.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Talon looked out onto the strange vista to which Vi had led him.
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