The Black Tide

by Keri Arthur

  “You need to straighten it.” His words were little more than a wheeze of agony. “I can’t shift to heal until you do.”

  I moved into position and then met his gaze. Sweat poured down his face and his eyes were ablaze with pain. “Ready?”

  He took a deep breath and then nodded grimly. I gripped his ankle and carefully realigned his leg, trying to ensure there was no further damage to either the blood vessels or nerves in his leg.

  He made no sound, but I nevertheless felt his pain. It was a tidal wave that crashed across my senses, and was so damn fierce I couldn’t help but shudder under its impact.

  His breath hissed in and out, and entire body quivered. How he was even conscious I had no idea.

  “Right,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Step back.”

  I shuffled back, keeping my center of balance low to counter the conveyor’s incline. As his body began to shift from human to panther form, I glanced past him, suddenly wondering where Penny’s body was. After a few seconds, I spotted her—she’d obviously been flung forward when Jonas hit the belt—on top of the pile of debris behind us, her body constantly under attack from the various bits of rock being bounced into the air. I scrambled over and dragged her back down. It was enough that she was dead; she didn’t deserve to be pulverized as well.

  Jonas was in the process of switching back to human form, his bones knitting and leg healing even as I watched. “Fuck,” he said when he was able, “that hurt.”

  I sat down in front of him and gently pulled the torn edges of his pants apart. All that remained was a thick red scar, and even that was now beginning to fade. But I was well aware the toll that sort of healing took on a body.

  I touched his shoulder lightly and said, “Rest. I’ll wake you when we near the end of this thing.”

  That he didn’t even bother to argue spoke not only of his weakness but also the wound’s severity. I’d witnessed shifters heal bullet wounds, gut shots, and broken bones during the wars, and knew that the more severe the wound, the longer it took to regain physical strength. Jonas could be out of action for anything up to twenty-four hours.

  I turned around to keep an eye on the rubble bouncing all around us, and, with Cat’s help, batted away the various bits that threatened to hit us. The belt rolled endlessly on into the gloom, and time was something that slipped by without acknowledgment. There was no glimmer of sunlight up ahead, nothing to indicate we were anywhere near approaching the end of this thing.

  But the air was growing sharper—cleaner—and a breeze was now running gentle fingers through my sweat-dried hair. Whether I could see it or not, we were getting close to the quarry outlet.

  “Cat, can you race ahead and see how far away we are?” As she obeyed, I added, Bear, what’s happening out there?

  Five vehicles went past the quarry and have landed on the hill above us. There are twenty soldiers, all armed.

  Is Dream there?

  There are nine women amongst their number, but they do not feel like Winter or even Sal did.

  Meaning her presence was unlikely. I guess that was no surprise—why would she take such a risk when it was easier to send her people...? I frowned and said, What sort of uniforms are they wearing? Is it along the lines of what the mercenaries in Chaos wear, or more military in design?

  He paused. There’s one military, the others are mercenary. The military man seems to be in charge.

  Instinct stirred, and while I wasn’t sure why, I also wasn’t about to ignore it. Are you able to get a close look at him?

  Bear hesitated and then said, He’s a thick-set man, brown hair and eyes, and a scar under his left eye.

  Which was an exact description of the man who’d been guarding Karlinda at Charles’s confirmation ceremony—the one who’d stirred my instincts for unknown reasons.

  He was obviously one of Dream’s people and surely had to know her identity in Central, be it Hedda or someone else. And that meant he was someone we needed to talk to.

  Cat returned. About three hundred meters ahead, the conveyer belt flattens out. A half a kilometer after that, it drops down into a rubble pile.

  Thanks. Bear, are any of those men keeping an eye on the conveyor’s dump point?

  No, they’ve moved down the hill. He paused. There’s an entrance there.

  One big enough to allow truck entry, I’m guessing?

  Yes.

  Let me know if any of them do head back to the quarry.

  I twisted around and touched Jonas on the shoulder. He woke and quickly glanced around. “Everything okay?”

  I half smiled. “I should be asking you that, given you’re the one who shattered his leg, not me.”

  He grunted and sat up. “It’s healed, and I’m okay. What’s the sitrep?”

  Once I’d updated him, he said, “I agree we need to talk to him, but I suspect that group has a shoot first, ask questions later policy.”

  “More than likely, but you’ve people here, and I’m betting they’re every bit as good as the mercenaries he has.”

  “Undoubtedly.” He motioned past me. “But attacking them means yet another delay, and we’re losing light fast.”

  I swung around. The conveyor had started to flatten out and, up ahead, visible through a rough-cut gap, was a sky streaked with pink and yellow. I wasn’t going to make it make to Central in time to meet with Charles, no matter what I did. I swore and scrubbed a hand across my eyes. “I don’t suppose Nuri would be able to get a message to Charles? Tell him I’m sick or something?”

  He didn’t answer, but his distracted expression told me he was already relaying the message. After a few minutes, he said, “She’s on to it, but she said it would be best if you got back to the apartment as soon as you can, because he’s the type to come checking.”

  “So I’ve discovered.” I eyed the drop-off point that was approaching way too fast, and then pushed upright. “Cat, how far is the drop?”

  A couple of tree heights, at least.

  Which meant about a hundred feet. I glanced at Jonas. “That sort of drop may or may not be survivable, but the ton of waste that’ll be following us over the edge definitely isn’t.”

  “No, but we don’t have to jump.” He bent and picked up Penny’s body. “There’re walkways on either side of the conveyer up ahead.”

  “There are?” I glanced back and saw what he meant. The conveyor’s sloped sides flattened out as it neared the fall point, providing a three-foot wide strip of stationary metal either side of the belt. Calling it a walkway was something of a misnomer given the rubble spillage, but it at least wasn’t moving and it was certainly better than risking a hundred-foot drop. “Stepping off is going to take coordination—and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t break a leg this time.”

  Amusement glittered briefly in his bright eyes. “If you insist—”

  “And I do. Your ass is too heavy to carry far—and I say that from experience.”

  “Then I won’t.” He gave me a severe look that was somewhat spoiled by the smile twitching his lips. “Please ensure you offer me the same courtesy.”

  “Deal.”

  He moved over to the other side of the belt. I walked back to the rubble pile behind us to gain some room then—just before my section of the conveyor hit the flattening edge—ran forward and leaped high.

  I hit the platform and stumbled forward several feet before finding my balance and coming to a stop. I glanced quickly across the belt and saw that Jonas not only still held Penny, but was also upright and uninjured. Relief stirred, but we were hardly out of the woods yet. Or out of the tunnel, as the case may be.

  Bear, any movement up there?

  Two soldiers are stationed either side of the gateway into the mountain, but the rest have gone inside.

  Jonas? I asked silently. How are we going to handle this?

  We aren’t doing anything, he replied evenly. You need to get back to Central, remember.

  Yes, but—

  But nothing,
he said. We can’t afford to blow your Cat identity now that we’re so close to pinning down Dream.

  He was right—I knew that—but it was nevertheless frustrating when I really wanted to be there when that soldier was questioned. If he had the answers we needed—if he could point us to Dream in whatever guise she might currently be using—it would save me the trouble of going back.

  But if he didn’t, then I’d risked blowing my identity for nothing.

  You can use one of the transporters to take—

  No, I cut in. Branna was using a device that allowed him to move through the false rift without harm. I used it to get here, and I can do so going back. It didn’t take the toll on my body that previous crossings did.

  And unless Dream had discovered Branna’s remains, she’d hopefully think it was him using it rather than me.

  Good, Jonas said. But be careful, both when you’re using that rift and when you’re in Central. Dream will suspect you’re impersonating someone within either the ranks of the House of Lords or the councilors, given what happened to Branna at the inauguration ball.

  I know. I glanced ahead and saw that the fading remnants of daylight had been swept away by the night. Cat, Bear, stay here with Jonas and help out. I’ll call you once I’m back in Central and rested.

  And be careful, they both intoned solemnly, their mental tones an almost exact replica of mine. It was a solemnity that didn’t last, because they quickly giggled at their own cheekiness.

  I grinned and became shadow. Though the quarry itself was heavily shadowed, there were multiple beams of light cutting through the night at its base—some of them belonged to the automated loaders endlessly shifting the rubble from the pile to the trucks, while others belonged to the vehicles that sped each load away to whatever location had been programmed into them.

  I rose up the quarry’s face and paused again at the top, trying to get my bearings. After a moment, I spotted several broken fingers of metal reaching skyward and realized they were the remnants of Fairhaven’s curtain wall.

  It didn’t take me long to reach them. The entrance to the vampire’s den was easy enough to spot—the fierce glow of the UV lights Jonas’s people had set up not only lit the den’s entrance and the sky, but provided an umbrella of light for a good portion of the nearby forest and the hillside above it.

  I eventually reached the intersection. Once again I paused, but the night was still and there was no indication that anyone was nearby. Not that I really expected much movement, but given Dream appeared to be at least one step ahead of us right now, I wasn’t about to take a chance.

  I moved on, and the burn of dark energy began to caress my particles. I dropped down to ground level and shifted back to human form. The foul caress of that energy instantly got worse, and my skin jumped and twitched in response. I swept my gaze across the immediate area and soon found the gelatinous patch that was the rift’s protective barrier.

  I dug Branna’s black brick out of my pocket and gripped it tightly as I walked into the barrier. This time, there was little in the way of resistance. The shadow still had a high viscosity, but it slid around me rather than pushing against me. In very quick order, I was through the barrier and striding toward the rift’s oily blackness. The whips of lightning quickly latched on to my arms and legs and dragged me forward, but once again there was little in the way of pain. The journey through the rift was similarly free, and I was deposited on the other side in the same condition in which I’d entered. Exhaustion might still pound through every fiber, but its cause wasn’t due to anything the rift had done. The brick, it seemed, really did help.

  I walked past Branna’s body and then hesitated. While I wanted nothing more than to see him rot in this place, it didn’t make tactical sense to leave him here. The vampires might have told Dream I’d entered their den, but Penny hadn’t confirmed it. There was a chance—a very, very slight chance, given she seemed to have no awareness of all the times I’d used the rifts—that with both the brick and the rifts being born out of her magic, she’d be aware when one was used to go through the other. It was also very slightly possible that she’d think Branna had used the brick to chase me into the rift, and that he’d come back out after I’d gone into the den itself. But for that to remain a viable possibility, I couldn’t leave his body here.

  I swore, walked back, and awkwardly hauled him over my shoulders. My legs immediately buckled under his weight. I forced them to lock until I was steady and then, with one hand bracing his body to stop him from slipping, and the other gripping the black brick, I went through the gelatinous barrier.

  Once on the other side, I paused again. Where in the hell was I going to dump him?

  We can take care of that, if you wish, someone said from behind me.

  I jumped sideways, stumbled over a rock, and dumped Branna’s body onto the ground in an effort to keep balance. Then I grabbed a gun with my free hand and swung around. There was no one behind me.

  No one but ghosts.

  Sorry to have startled you, the tall, wispy figure in front of me continued. I didn’t mean to.

  His low tones were rich and pleasant, and recognition stirred. It was Blaine, the man who appeared to be in charge of Carleen’s ghosts.

  But why could I hear him so clearly?

  I might have an innate ability to hear the whisperings of the dead, but Carleen had been a human city, and that had always put the dead here beyond both my seeker and communication skills. Lures might have escaped most of the DNA interventions and restrictions that had been placed on our soldier brethren, but our creators had certainly ensured we could not read their very human thoughts. Every other time I’d communicated with these ghosts, I’d done so through a link with Cat. Her DNA was almost pure tabby, and that meant she was not only a great tracker but highly tuned to all things supernatural. These ghosts had always been little more than wisps and energy to me, but for her, they were fully fleshed beings.

  But maybe this sudden clarity was once again a result of the rift Jonas and I had been caught in—maybe the alterations that allowed me to communicate directly with my own ghosts were now allowing me to hear these ones.

  Whatever the reason, it was something of a blessing. Communicating through Cat was not only unwieldy but also very dangerous—for me rather than her, given the drain such a deep link put on my life force.

  “How did you know I’d be able to hear you, given Cat’s not here?” I asked.

  He shrugged, and it was only then that I realized he was no longer a mere wisp of energy, but gradually attaining a full—if still ghostly—form.

  There is something different about the energy you’re emitting, he replied. It’s more like that of your little ghost, so I thought it worthwhile to try. You looked as if you needed help.

  “And I very much do.” I hesitated, watching as more ghosts drifted closer. The anger I’d sensed in them every other time I’d come into Carleen remained, but a thick thread of fear and horror now ran through it. “What’s happened?”

  The witch met with the wraiths, he said. Here, on our soil.

  I swore. I’d been hoping that Samuel Cohen—the cloaked figure I’d been tracking before the wraiths had chased me back through the graveyard outside these walls—had been the only one of the three capable of communicating with the Others. But I guess that was always a forlorn hope given their shared DNA. “How long ago was this?”

  Three days ago.

  So not long after I’d killed Cohen and all but destroyed their Winter Halo operation. “Did you hear what they said?”

  We dared not get too close to the witch, because she has acted against us in the past, he replied. But we know they plan to wage war against Central, and every other human habitation. That cannot be allowed to happen, no matter what the cost to us. The wraiths, and the witch, must be stopped.

  I frowned. “I know the witch can banish you from this place, but what threat are the wraiths?”

  Of themselves they are not. It
is the rifts through which they move that are.

  My confusion deepened. “But those rifts have been here for more than a century now—why would they suddenly be a threat?”

  It is not those rifts of which we speak, he said. But rather the one that now dominates the central plaza—

  “But that’s a false rift,” I cut in, even as fear surged. The last thing we needed was the wraiths having a direct path into the heart of the city. “It leads into Government House; it is not linked to whatever realm the wraiths emerge from.”

  Perhaps the witch can tune it to be either. She has been present whenever the wraiths have emerged from it.

  I swore and scrubbed a hand across my eyes. “That still doesn’t explain why the plaza rift is a threat to you. Is it the staining?”

  Yes, because it not only stains our bones, it disintegrates them. When our bones are gone, our spirits are banished to who knows what hell. He paused, and sorrow washed across his thin face. It takes the young ones first—we have already lost five.

  Damn it, why was it always the littlest ones who paid the deepest price? “I’m really sorry, but we are trying to stop the spread of that rift—”

  You won’t succeed, he cut in. The only way to destroy the rift is to kill the woman who created it.

  I frowned. “What makes you think the false rifts are linked to her life?”

  Redda says it is so, and she was once also a powerful witch. He turned and beckoned to someone. A matronly figure moved forward, but her form wasn’t as solid as either Blaine’s or many of the others, suggesting she was an older ghost—perhaps even one who’d died long before the final bomb had destroyed the city.

  It is true. Her voice was faint but kindly. I’ve seen the witch Nuri here several times, but she is not strong enough to stay or remove the magic of the rifts now. No one is.

  “But what makes you think its existence is linked to the woman who created it?”

  Because she used her blood in the spell. Only when she no longer takes breath will the power of her blood within that spell fade. Until then, the rifts will remain.