Angel Descended (The Awakened Book 6)

by Matthew S. Cox

  Another girl rounded the corner, wearing a baggy jacket and a tattered pink tutu over worn-out black leggings and combat boots. She looked to be about fifteen with curly dark hair and a permanent frown molded onto her face. The instant she spotted Aaron, the bad mood draped over her worsened, and she honed in on him like guided ordinance. She passed by the three of them, giving him the evil eye until she could no longer do so without turning.

  “Hey Liss,” said a tall young man in a high-collared coat. “Hear you ain’t the top TK dog anymore.”

  “Fuck you, Jinx,” said the teen. “He’s a fuckin’ cop.”

  “Yeah, and a cop gets past Ark. Sure thing, chica.” Jinx blew a kiss at her.

  “Yeah,” added a pudgy boy wearing a set of gaming goggles. “This one’s real Awakened, like the big man.”

  The girl shrieked in anger and raked her hand into the air. The heavyset teen lurched forward off the ductwork. She thrust her palm up and he sailed skyward, halting about thirty feet off the ground above her.

  “I am Awakened, shit for brains. Normal telekinetics can’t lift your fat ass without meditating.”

  Iliana leaned closer to Aaron and whispered, “Melissa is, how you say, touchy?”

  The chubby kid whimpered and pedaled his legs in the air. Jinx found the situation hilarious, laughing himself to tears. Iliana gathered the small girl and hurried her into the building.

  “That don’t mean nothin’,” said another dark-skinned teen, peering up from her NetMini past a curtain of tight curls. “Terrence can lift him, and he ain’t Awakened. Reboot ain’t that fat.”

  “Terrence gotta concentrate for a minute to do it,” snapped Melissa, shoving Reboot another twenty feet higher and gliding him around like a kite. “He can’t move him this fast.” She glanced up at him. “Still think I’m faking it, asshole?”

  Reboot shook his head. “N-no, no.”

  “The new guy’s more powerful,” said Jinx, picking at his teeth.

  Melissa flung Reboot into him, denting the sheet metal ducts and silencing most of the compound in the wake of a rolling boom. She whirled on Aaron, alone by the dead HVAC unit, and pointed. “You and me, right now.”

  Aaron held up his hands. “Sorry, kiddo. I draw the line at eighteen.”

  “Fuck you!” she screamed, flinging her arms out and toward him.

  Aaron braced, absorbing her telekinetic assault with his power. Her attack carried a lot more strength than he’d expected, but holding her back didn’t strain him much. In his time with Division 0, he hadn’t run into another telekinetic as strong as this kid, so perhaps her claim of being Awakened had some merit. Melissa grunted, her face twisting with effort. He groaned, more for her benefit than from the exertion.

  She let go, panting, and snarled. “That’s not what I meant, asshole. Fuckin’ nasty. You’re old enough to be my dad.”

  Aaron tapped a finger to his lip. “I’d ‘ave been fourteen. I suppose it’s technically possible, but—”

  Melissa let off the bastard offspring of a swear word and a scream while reaching toward an empty dumpster near the building. The thousand-pound container zoomed at him in a straight line. Rather than waste the effort to catch it, he nudged it off course, letting it slam into the wall behind him. The second echoing boom drew the attention of everyone inside the tent city. Faces as young as six and as old as forty appeared in the windows, with another group of teens lining the second-story.

  Reboot moaned, regaining consciousness, and pushed himself up off Jinx, who wheezed. Blood trickled from the heavyset kid’s nose.

  Aaron held a hand up to Melissa. “Not much of a sense of humor, eh?” He peeked at her surface thoughts, but she blocked him out in seconds, glimpsing only a sense of dread that the others would ridicule her for being weak.

  Spectators cheered, some for her, some for him, others at the duel in general. She dragged the dumpster off the wall, flinging it at him a second time when several voices in the crowd referred to her as ‘the bitch.’ This time, Aaron stalled it in midair, earning oohs from the younger ones.

  Melissa growled with increasing desperation as she attempted to force the container into him. Aaron raised an eyebrow as he found himself almost working to hold it at bay. His jaw tightened with genuine effort. Without warning, she ceased pushing and pulled back. With their combined powers pushing it, the dumpster rocketed off over her head. She emitted a growl of exertion past clenched teeth and steered it around to come back at him.

  Again, he stalled it in midair.

  “Ha ha, Liss! You’re losing,” shouted an anonymous boy.

  “Fuck!” she yelled, her spike of anger launching the dumpster out over the wall.

  Seconds later, a slam of crumpling metal and crunching glass conjured the image of it striking an old, dead car a block away. Melissa held her arms up like claws, attacking him directly. He responded in kind, entering a telekinetic tug-of-war.

  They lifted each other, whirled about in circles, and hit the ground, skidding apart. He wagged an eyebrow at her, responding to her attempts to grasp his body with her power. Each time the sense of tightness built up, he fended her off with small telekinetic jabs to her sides… like an older brother tickling his kid sister.

  Minutes passed in a silent staredown, tense for everyone except Aaron. Melissa flexed her fingers, squinting, waiting for him to flinch. Aaron glanced sideways at the spectators lining the ground floor windows. A small African boy sitting on the windowsill grinned at him.

  “Does anyone else fink this would work better wif a tumbleweed or two driftin’ by?”

  She caught him off guard with a hard shove at his shoulder, which sent him stumbling backward. He expected the subsequent tug at his feet, and levitated himself at the same instant she pulled, flipping in place and landing upright.

  Aaron flashed a devil’s grin and seized all hundred pounds of her in a telekinetic grip. Despite her frantic attempt to resist, she glided upward, kicking, gasping, and grunting as she strained to oppose his power with hers. As soon as the look on her face went from anger to fear, he set her down. Melissa collapsed to all fours, out of breath. Aaron acted winded.

  “Well, looks like a bit of a stalemate.” He smiled.

  She raised her head to glare at him, still gasping for breath, her sour face no less venomous than when she’d first come around the corner. You’re fucking with me.

  He kept his expression neutral, responding to her telepathic message in kind. Look, those bastards’ll give you no end of shite if they think you lost. If we stalemate, they’ll have nothing to say. “Two Awakened, it’s a draw.”

  Melissa’s entire body trembled, perhaps with rage, though tears ran down her cheeks. I don’t need your fucking pity! I’m not a child.

  He dusted his sleeve off. I’ve seen you do the floaty gun thing, remember? That’s not easy to pull off.

  She stood, fists clenched, but kept her head down so no one else could see her watering eyes.

  I’ll take a dive if you want. Aaron flashed the smile that sent a hundred panties to the floor. I don’t much care what they think of me.

  Fuck you and your fucking cop… shit! Even her telepathic voice blurred with the sound of crying. Melissa sprinted into the dark courtyard, the crunch of boots on gravel diminishing with distance. A hundred yards or so later, she jumped the wall of the dry reflecting pool and darted among the ancient skeletal cyborgs.

  “Guess the princess is pissed she couldn’t take you down, old man,” said Reboot. “Word is you stuffed Archon.”

  “Archon? Feh. He’s not telekinetic.” Aaron glanced at the point Melissa had leapt the wall before the shadows took her. He tugged on his suit jacket to set it straight on his shoulders. “He only dabbles.”

  4

  A Queen’s Ransom

  Anna

  Converted from what had once been an executive office, Archon’s new bedroom lacked much of the odor of the surrounding environs. Two disc-shaped bots the size of dinner plate
s worked their way around the carpet in an ongoing war with stink. The front space, likely once where the executive assistant’s desk stood, had become the holo-vid room, complete with a couch and bar. The actual office, four times the size of the front room, housed the bed as well as an attached bathroom with electronics that some of the more technically-gifted psionics had coaxed back to life.

  He hadn’t spoken much in the elevator, only enough to tell Talis to choose a room on the seventh floor before continuing to the ninth. Anna stepped over one of the chrome discs, fervent in its mission to suck the dirt from the century-old rug, and followed him into the bedroom. He went straight to his desk, booting up all six terminals with one wave. Whatever had happened with Mamoru had gotten under his skin.

  I’m rather tired of him taking it out on me whenever something goes pear-shaped. She huffed, staring at him for a moment before removing her long coat and draping it over a narrow chair by a faux-onyx conference table. The starship factory’s chemical taint still permeated her clothes, and she wasted little time before shedding them and padding to the bathroom.

  Despite a screen full of errors and warning icons, the autoshower worked as if new. Anna shut her mind to the world at large, concerned that a device held together by a psionic gifted with machines would be twice as vengeful if her emotion ran away with itself while she stood naked and wet inside it. Her distrust of the tube reminded her of Althea’s first encounter with one, mistaking it for a cage. Anna laughed briefly before it struck her as more sad than funny. The girl had been as frightened as Twee had been when the CSB nabbed her.

  Why did I do that to her? I’m no better than Gordon. Anna let her head hit the acrylic tube with a clunk. She straightened when the spray ring descended and moped while the machine went about its task of cleaning her before blasting her with whirling hot air.

  At the precise moment her toes touched the plush white throw rug outside the tube, an echoing boom rumbled outside. She scurried to the bathroom door, peeking out into the bedroom to ensure no one had wandered in to have a meeting with Archon. Seeing him alone, she walked out.

  Archon glanced up from his work at her nudity, offering a momentary smile as she crossed to the bookshelf serving as a dresser. One of Aurora’s white satin bathrobes sat at the top of the pile and provided sufficient attire for the time being. On Anna’s smaller frame, the fabric hung to her knees. She stopped at the reassembler to generate a cup of Earl Grey and carried it to a violet and black divan along the window behind the desk, where she reclined. Decaying buildings, streaks of black across a dingy amber sky, made the window look like a huge painting of the apocalypse.

  Images, maps for the most part, as well as several faces, flickered in and out on the holo-panels surrounding him. Anna sipped her tea in silence, watching him swipe and claw at the intangible screens.

  “Are you attempting to seduce me from my work, my dear?”

  Anna studied the irregular blob of light wavering on the surface of the tea. “Perhaps. Are you still cheesed off?”

  He tilted his head back, staring down his nose at one of the maps. “Do you know what the worst part about Mexico is?”

  “The heat?” Asked Anna.

  “No, my dear. The Mexicans.” He glanced at her for a moment and shook his head. “At least the ones in uniform. Superstitious bunch, the lot, still taken with all that religious nonsense. They don’t know well enough to leave their betters alone.”

  “Betters?” She sipped her tea.

  “Psionics. Good grief, Anna. How long have we been doing this?” He pulled his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Are you feeling unwell lately?”

  “Aside from havin’ to spend all my time around an Arsenal wanker, just peachy keen.”

  “Really? You have found it that distasteful?” Archon raised one eyebrow. “You seem rather fond of him.”

  “He thinks he’s the cat’s whiskers, he does.” Anna smirked. “He is charming, but I see it. He just wants to get in my knickers.” She thought back to the afternoon she’d spent with James by the lake in County Gwynedd and found herself grinning at nothing.

  Archon coughed, rubbing his nose. “I did not find that the least bit humorous.”

  “Oh, James. It was a pisser. You should’ve seen the look on your face. The way your hair stood—”

  “So you have not the least bit of an infatuation for him then?”

  Anna shifted from reclining to sitting on the edge of the divan, elbows on her knees and leaning forward. “Don’t tell me you’ve never looked at Lauren.”

  “How could a man not? The woman has less modesty than one of the Bard’s nymphs.”

  “Well then, don’t get on me for lookin’ at ‘im.” Anna swirled the tea around. “Nothin’ll happen, James. He might have a pretty face, but he’s not the sort to lift a girl out of the gutters an’ give her a life back. Besides, I’m not a cheat.” Warmth flooded her cheeks. “Do you know he was tweakin’ the stone? Telekinetics… in Frictionless. They didn’t even fine him!” She gestured at the wall. “He’s corrupted the records for centuries, killed the careers of at least three goaltenders and—”

  “They let him get away with it,” said Archon, sounding bored.

  “Yes!” Anna jumped to her feet.

  Her enthusiasm faded at the smirk twisting his goatee to the side.

  “Of course they did. If they let it out he was one of us, there would’ve been riots.”

  “It’s still not right.” She plunked herself down, pouting. “An’ ‘ey, if you’re worried about that, why’d you keep sendin’ me to be with him?”

  He lost a struggle to suppress an amused smile. “Worry is not the proper term, my dear. I am amused.” Anna turned red. “I am starting to understand where Lauren’s idiosyncrasies originate from. Knowing the outcome ahead of time, and watching everyone scramble to forge their own destinies, all the while knowing it futile, is rather entertaining. I find it rather like observing ants. No matter how many times you shake the sand, they keep building tunnels, as if they cannot fathom the futility of their toil and the inevitable outcome.”

  “Did you just call me an ant?”

  He chuckled. “I suppose you could look at it that way, but you are the most beautiful ant in the farm.”

  She glared, not knowing how to take his meaning. “You didn’t need Lauren to tell you that I love you.”

  “Of course not, Annabelle. Her saying it merely reinforced what I already knew.”

  The rightmost terminal emitted a bee-oop noise and spawned a sub-screen half the size. A square-jawed man’s head appeared, with short, white-blond hair combed back over his head and round-lensed black glasses.

  “Alles ist bereit. Wir erwarten unser zahlungs.”

  Archon’s gaze dipped to words scrolling along the bottom of the image.

  “Of course. Within two hours.”

  His voice repeated itself, faint from the other end of the communication, speaking German.

  “Ein behagen, Herr Mardling.”

  Anna tilted back the last of her now-tepid tea. As soon as the communication pane faded away, she stood. “Where are we going?”

  Archon took a credstick from one of the desk drawers and plugged it into the side of the silver terminal bar. A small pop-up window appeared containing the letters ICFC, the logo of InterTrust Commerce Facilitation Corporation. Both C’s resembled three-dimensional carved glass and rotated as the terminal synchronized with his account. Soon, a thin metallic bar scrolled across the underside of the screen with a sliding tab control. Archon touched one finger to it, pulling to the right until the number hit Ͼ200,000. He unplugged it and tossed it to her.

  “Two hundred thousand credits?” Anna blinked. “What’s this for?”

  “The Syndicate is helping us with our little logistical problem.”

  She almost dropped the empty mug. “Syndicate? Are you daft? I’ve been in the company of those people; nothing good will come of getting involved with that lot.”r />
  “They have quite a bit of experience moving people through hostile territories, my dear.”

  “Exactly how many girls do you think they diverted for their own purposes?” She fumed, pacing back and forth. “You don’t know what those bastards are capable of.”

  Archon couldn’t help himself but chuckle. “I think you have that last bit backwards.” The mirth faded from his face fast enough to send a chill down her spine. “They are quite dependable, given our arrangement. Be a dear and retrieve our new compatriots?”

  “You aren’t coming?” Anna glanced at the credstick in her hand, feeling revulsion at the cyan numbers on the side. Giving money to those sorts of people felt contrary to everything Archon prattled on about improving lives. “Are you absolutely certain about this, James?”

  He faced his terminals again, pointing at one bearing a street-level map of a location not part of either raised city. “I am afraid I have a conflicting appointment on my schedule. I need to pop over to Mexico City for a short while.”

  “Whatever do you need down there?”

  Anna walked to the shelf, letting the robe slip from her shoulders and gather around her feet. A pang of sorrow crawled up her arm when she grasped a bundle of black lacy underthings. The same style of smalls James had gotten her that night years ago—the first underwear she’d owned in years. She clutched them to her chest and glanced to her right so James couldn’t see her reddening eyes. What did I do that he’s treating me like this? Her mind raced, searching recent memory for what she’d done wrong.

  Archon set his elbow on the chair arm and rested his temple on three fingers. “Certain instabilities in the local climate have necessitated my meeting with a Vice President of Citizen Management and his directors.”

  “They killed Martinez?” Anna tugged the panties in place and slipped into her bra, turning her back to him. “James, would you mind?”

  He glanced in her general direction; the bra cinched itself behind her back. “No, Cortez. Martinez has been dead for six months. It is becoming quite bothersome. The Council isn’t terribly different from elected politicians. Ready for the highest bidder to give them their opinion.”