Angel Descended (The Awakened Book 6)

by Matthew S. Cox

  Kate snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Eyes up here, chief. Where’s my car?”

  His already dark skin darkened. Samir went from staring at her to looking anywhere but. “Space 184.”

  She patted his shoulder. “Thanks. No worries, I’m in a hurry.”

  “Everyone’s always in a hurry,” he muttered.

  Kate jogged down a row of armored, black hovercars. Thirty-eight hours in a simulator flying one through ridiculous situations made her more nervous about doing it for real. Still, the police versions had the usual anti-collision and auto-assist systems of civilian models. The driver’s seat felt alien. As soon as she realized she missed having David at the controls, she felt a twinge of anger at herself.

  I’m no princess. She pulled the door down, flicked the buttons to bring the car online, and grabbed the sticks. A real patrol craft felt a little different from the sim—it reacted faster. Even the best helmets had a control delay compared to a wire jack, something few in Division 0 were willing to obtain. The difference turned out to be minimal, and she acclimated by the time she pulled up into a hover lane.

  Captain Buckley’s six-inch holographic head appeared above the dash. “Solomon.”

  “Yes, Sir?”

  “We’ve intercepted a communication involving other Awakened.” A smaller image of a Japanese man in his middle-to-late twenties appeared next to the Captain, his waist-length hair in a ponytail. “Other units are en route to a location where we suspect a man responsible for the theft of a military starship currently awaits contact from his accomplices. We have no idea what to expect from them, we need you there as you’re all we’ve got capable of matching them.”

  “Understood.”

  “Use your judgment, Kate.” The formality in his expression lessened. “Ideally, we don’t want anyone dead, but do what you need to protect yourself and others.”

  She nodded. “I’m glad you understand, sir, but it’d be nice if those drones in the sim room understood that the real world isn’t a damn video game. There’s more than one solution to any given situation. Just because I do something that doesn’t fit neatly into their little playbook doesn’t make it wrong. Thanks for trusting me.”

  Captain Buckley smiled. “Just make sure you come home alive.”

  Kate flicked her thumbnail on the control stick. “Will do, sir.”

  44

  Showdown

  Mamoru

  Quiet permeated the Sector 6112 grey zone, save for the intermittent buzzing of an old electronic sign. Bulbous holographic breasts rendered in hot pink bounced over an unmarked door at the far end of the block. Small bits of trash skittered across the road. Mamoru scanned the sky and the alleys, waiting for his ride to arrive. Chaos swam in his mind: screams of the dying and the roar of ancient aircraft streaking across the sky. An inexplicable desire for revenge, in the form of destroying any life he found, clenched his hands into fists.

  Mamoru closed his eyes and concentrated on his memory of Sadako. Each time he tried to picture the smiling face of the little sister he once knew, the broken and battered woman he’d left in the Badlands filled his head. He was responsible for her death, for surely she would have died if not for the intervention of whatever Akuryō possessed his body. These people did not matter as long as his beloved sister lived.

  He shuddered, forcing his eyelids apart. What insanity is this? One tear ran down his cheek. To barter a million souls for one. She would not have it. Pain as though he’d killed her himself scratched icy at the bottom of his heart.

  Four large blurry shapes, backlit by snaps of blinding azure light, descended into his vision. Mamoru straightened, lifting himself out of regret. Black police hovercars landed on the deserted street in front of him, forming a horseshoe. Eight figures in matching body armor emerged, silver handguns aimed at him.

  “Don’t move,” said a male near the center.

  Mamoru gazed at the wet traction-coated plastisteel in front of his boot, reflecting the rapid snap-flashes of azure bar lights. “You cannot prevent what will come to pass. We are agents of change, and this world cries out for rebirth.”

  “This one’s on the good shit,” said a woman.

  The tingle of surface thought reading spread over Mamoru’s forebrain. He knew he had little telepathic ability, but he managed to block them out. None of them were Awakened.

  “Peasants.”

  “Keep at it,” said a different woman. “If he’s erected a mind block, he won’t be doing anything else.”

  “I don’t think it’s a block.” One of the male officers pushed harder on his thoughts. “It doesn’t feel like a wall. It’s a rattling door I can’t open.”

  “You are peasants,” said Mamoru.

  White energy flared across his shoulders and arms. Desire withdrew his existence from the electronic eyes in their helmets. His consciousness spread forth, psionic feelers sensing the machinery around him, and commanding it all dormant. None of their weapons would work—he forbade it.

  “He’s invisible,” said a man.

  “HUD’s gone,” said another. “He’s done something to our armor.”

  Mamoru flooded his muscles with power and leapt at the nearest officer. The Akuryō inside him demanded death, but his own goal was more important.

  No. A sheathed katana smashed into the man’s armored chest, launching him forty meters back and through a window. If you wish our goal to be realized, we cannot afford to suffer their vengeance. We must remain the underestimated nuisance left unaddressed until it is too late.

  He spun into a savage leftward downstroke, smashing the helmet of a petite black-haired woman. Her unconscious, but still living, body bounced off the car and slid to the ground, blood oozing from numerous cuts on her face.

  They are unworthy of your blade Mamoru. Kill them.

  One of the men pulled his helmet off and startled at the sight of Mamoru so close. He tried to shoot, but the weapon did nothing.

  They are insects, but there are many. Mamoru raised his blunted sword.

  The officer drew his stunrod and charged. At the same instant, Mamoru floated off the ground, a constricting force holding his arms against his chest. A tall woman with blonde cornrows and dark skin fixed him with a stare, her hand outstretched.

  “I got him, whack that son of a bitch,” she yelled. “He ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

  The scintillating white light across his shoulders flared brighter. He concentrated on strength, overpowering the non-Awakened telekinesis with mild effort, and brought his katana into the path of the charging officer’s stunrod. The baton zoomed into the air, bent in half from the force of the parry, and exploded in a blue flash on impact with a building. Mamoru threw his weight into a sword stroke, using it to spin his levitating body. He kicked his attacker, forgetting his boosted strength. The man’s jaw exploded into a stream of bloody ooze as the hit launched him over the patrol craft, shearing the roof lights off in a spray of shattered plastic and sparking wires.

  “Aug!” yelled the telekinetic woman. “Aug!”

  Another police hovercar plummeted from the sky, settling down in a clumsy landing at the middle of the intersection.

  “There’s no electronics inside him,” screamed a thin man, backing away. “He’s not a fucking aug; he’s a kinetic.”

  “Bullshit! Kinetics aren’t this strong.”

  “He’s Awakened,” said an alluring feminine voice.

  Mamoru looked from the annoying telekinetic to a red-haired beauty slithering out of the fifth car. Unlike the others, she wore no armor. A thin, shimmery, indigo-black uniform hugged every curve. He drank in her model’s figure: perfect hips, round breasts, high cheekbones and deep, emerald eyes. For a moment, Mamoru forgot all about the Akuryō, his sister, Nami, Archon, even where he was at that moment. He did not feel love, desire, or even base lust.

  Awe.

  Beautiful.

  The dark spirit remembered her. Mamoru felt his lust for her, but not sex
ual lust. It craved her rage, her power, her ability to kill and cause pain, but she had also angered it.

  “Comms are down,” shouted a male voice to his left. “Hollister’s jaw’s on the fucking road.”

  “Got it,” said the entrancing redhead. “Medical team on the way.” She raised both hands in front of her and stared at Mamoru. “We need to talk. I can’t let Archon have you.”

  Who is this person? “How do you know of him?” He swung the katana such that the scabbard flew off, blurring into a streak that struck the telekinetic woman in the faceplate of her helmet like an arrow. The impact smashed the visor and knocked her out cold. He dropped to his feet and advanced toward the redhead, casually disabling another charging officer with a kick to the knee and hilt punch to the forehead. The second woman didn’t even grunt as her unconscious body hit the floor. “Do you outrank these fools? I do so loathe having to harm women.”

  Relish it, said the Akuryō. Kill her. Kill them all. Make them part of us.

  He stalled, eyes shut. The concentration needed to stop himself from turning his blade on the unconscious consumed all of his focus. The redhead stared at him as he took three more steps and tucked his foot under the scabbard. When he kicked it into the air, she made a fireball in her hand, but let it go out when he caught the sheath by thrusting the blade into it.

  “I do not have time for you,” said Mamoru, turning away.

  “Hey! There’s a fuckin’ party goin’ on, and we’re missin’ it,” shouted a manic voice from across the street.

  Shouts rang out, followed by blue muzzle flare erupting from windows and alleys. Automatic fire chattered; the sharp snaps of smaller weapons interspersed with booms from handguns. Pings and clanks came from the patrol cars. Mamoru looked toward a loud slap from the direction of the redhead. A spatter of liquid metal sprayed from the back of her left leg. She grabbed her ass, screaming as if someone had snapped her with a wet towel, and fell into her car.

  The whisper in his mind urging him to kill battered down his resistance; the thugs lacked the threat of retaliation that came with killing cops. A surge of white chi-fire spread down his back. Time stretched out to slow motion and he leaned to the side, avoiding a creeping colony of bullets frozen in midair. Weaving among the maze of hanging projectiles, he rushed the oncoming street gang. Grip clenched on the rubberized handle, Mamoru squeezed and drew the katana. His hand thrummed from the vibro-inducer as he sliced into the first thug.

  A sheet of blood sprayed from a cut passing shoulder to hip. Mamoru whirled around behind him, slashing the neck of another man with a metal chest. The empty scabbard in his left hand smashed into the throat of a teen girl with a submachine gun in each hand, spraying at the police.

  You are weak, Mamoru. Why do you spare her? The young are the strongest fountains of rage. She must join us. His body twisted out of his control, bringing the blade to bear on the helpless girl, stuck in the slow motion world of normal humans.

  A chorus of tiny screaming voices filled the back of his head, louder than the rush of jet engines and the explosions of bombs. Mamoru snarled, breaking out in a sweat as he forced the dark presence to recede, and lowered his weapon from her defenseless chest.

  Muzzle flare sputtered dark, the guns hung in space as her hands withdrew to her neck and she collapsed. Mamoru leapt to the corner of a dumpster at the alley, boot planted on the glowing green keys of its code lock panel, and sprang from there into a descending slash that opened the gunmetal-blue back of a cyberjunkie with a complete torso rebuild. Sparks lapped at the edges of the cut. Mamoru bashed the scabbard into the side of his knee, whirling around into a slash that took the man’s head as he fell.

  Laser blasts lit up the night behind him. Mamoru’s concentration lapsed, allowing time to return to normal and the white flames to peter out. Leaving the police to deal with the remaining punks, he stormed into the alley. A few steps later, a blinding detonation of orange went off inches from his face. He leapt back, slashing in a spiral around himself since he could not see. Searing pain shrouded his hand; he dropped the katana before the scream left his mouth.

  “Hands up. You twitch wrong and you’re fuckin’ done,” said the intoxicating redhead.

  Mamoru raised his arms, smoke peeling from his hand. “That was painful.”

  “No damn idea how you moved that fast. I didn’t feel like getting cut in half.”

  He glanced over his shoulder. The woman half-limped closer. “You’re walking. I saw you get shot.”

  “Guess we both have our little surprises. Eyes front.”

  Whoops and screams continued from the street, guns and lasers flashing.

  “I suggest you leave. It would bring me great sadness to harm a being of such beauty.”

  “Nice try. I’m placing you under arrest for the theft of a military starship, plus whatever else we haven’t figured out you’ve done yet.”

  “Oh, but I intend to return it, Kate,” said an ancient voice, from Mamoru’s mouth

  A pair of headlights dove out of a hover lane fifty stories up. Mamoru glanced up at a gold luxury car descending toward the grey zone. Such a fancy vehicle landing here meant only one thing. He glanced over his shoulder. She’d stopped in her tracks, face pale and eyes wide. The Akuryō wanted to consume her suffering. Mamoru clenched his jaw; his arms shook trying to resist the bloodlust.

  “Our ride is here,” said Mamoru. “You should leave. I cannot hold him back for long.”

  The change in his voice made her twitch.

  She is lost to us. The abomination has protected her. She must die.

  The hovercar landed a few meters in front of Mamoru. Water vapor rose from where the ion engines heated the ground, fog dancing in the headlight beams.

  Anna set one foot out, leaning on the door. “Mamoru?”

  “Anna?” asked Kate.

  “Kate? What are you doing here?” She smirked. “Nice outfit. Guess the police will take anyone these days…” Anna looked downcast at the road. “Even here.”

  Mamoru squinted at Anna’s sad face.

  “Anna, Archon’s dangerous,” said Kate. “He tried to control—”

  Her words warped into a deep swirl of sound as Mamoru accelerated himself and leapt at her. A blue fireball shot past his head on either side. He refocused power from speed to strength, grunting as time shifted in jittering chunks back to normal. His fist struck her sternum, driving her flat on her back and sliding.

  More sirens in the distance grew louder; the gunfight a block away intensified.

  Kate twisted and gasped, making noises like she couldn’t breathe. He rushed after her, hauling her by one arm into a headlock. Kate flapped a hand, trying to grab Mamoru’s arm away from her throat.

  “Mamoru, what are you doing?” yelled Anna.

  “Your master would want this one, would he not?” Mamoru dragged Kate toward the car, squeezing her neck in an effort to knock her out.

  Kill her, said the Akuryō.

  Anna grumbled. “Forget her. I don’t feel like crashing on the way back.”

  Energy sapped from Mamoru, leaving his legs feeling rubbery. The ancient gunslinger appeared before him, smiling the disaster of his rotting teeth at the woman he held. Black smoke exuded from his opening mouth, rife with insects and the reek of carrion.

  Kate screamed. Mamoru’s coat ignited. He released her before his mind could process the pain he felt from touching her. Patches of skin blackened to ash; his cheek melted to an open hole where it had been pressed against her head. Twitching from agony, Mamoru staggered backward and fell to a knee, swatting at himself to put out the fire.

  “What the hell?” whispered Anna.

  The ancient one vanished in a blast of flames. Mamoru coughed, squinting into the blinding light at the redhead laying on the road. She scrambled away, eyes wide like a terrified child waking from a nightmare. A tornado of red and violet flames projected from her outstretched hands, blackening the plastisteel roadway where the apparition h
ad been.

  Dark vapor swam up Mamoru’s chest, reigniting the pain of his burns. Mamoru grabbed his face and howled, falling to his knees before slumping forward, elbows on the ground. He wept without conscious thought, lost in the throes of agony. The skin on the palm of his right hand bubbled and boiled as it regenerated.

  We cannot die, rasped the decrepit voice in the back of his mind.

  Mamoru clenched a shaking fist.

  “Anna…” Kate wheezed. “Don’t trust him. The demon’s inside him. Help me!”

  “He… uhh wants to protect psionics.” Anna’s boots clicked up behind him. “Are you alright, Mamoru? What was that old man?”

  Mamoru recovered his sword and got to his feet. Obvious fear tainted Anna’s voice, but he didn’t care.

  “Anna, don’t!” yelled Kate. “You don’t understand, it’s not—”

  Mamoru leapt at her, but she jumped away. Her hands sheathed with fire that formed into spheres in her palms. Mamoru pulled the katana four inches out of the scabbard, but hesitated at the sight of molten metal on her leg. This succubus was not worth losing his sacred blade. He walked through the fireball, ignoring the smell and sound of sizzling flesh regenerating.

  Kate leapt to the right, but he caught her arm and swung her into the wall. His skin ignited where he touched her; boiling flesh regrew as fast as it turned to ash. Kate screamed and gagged from the fumes. Mamoru grabbed her throat, lifting her at arm’s length, crushing her ability to breathe into the grimy metal. His thumbnail caught fire, blackening before it fell off. She kicked at his gut; patches of ooze boiled away, bubbling past the thin material covering her back.

  “Mamoru!” yelled Anna. “Don’t kill her. If she really is with the police now, it’ll cause a shitstorm.”

  Flames engulfed Mamoru for all of a second and a half before a loud crack split the night, echoing down the alley. Paralyzed, he fell over backward like a plank. Kate slid to the ground, seated against the wall, foam leaking from her mouth.