by Skyler Andra
“These must be stored it your locker at all times.” He pointed at the row of five lockers at the back of the room. “No weapons can leave this room or it will set off the metal detectors at the door. Your locker will not activate and open unless you’re in a training sessions or have been given clearance to go on a mission. And for a mission, we’re escorted by sentries with batons in case we try to escape.”
“Okay.” I clutched the belt to my stomach.
“Each weapon has a unique code, and if you lose it, you pay for it in credits.”
“Thanks.” I ran a finger along the leather. My own stuff and my first mission. Big day.
“Get back to it, Nomical,” Knoxe ordered. “Twenty in a row, remember?”
Oh right. Twenty kill shots in a row. Got it.
I hit one, then missed, and hit another.
Knoxe scowled and reminded me, “You’re not leaving on a mission unless I can trust you can defend yourself.”
I touched my neck again. Jaz had died from a broken neck. I hoped I didn’t end up with a similar fate.
Chapter 16
Knoxe
“Where’s your rune blaster?” I eyed Nomical’s belt, which was also missing two stakes. I’d given them to her yesterday, and she’d lost them already. Damn sloppy. I already had one screw up on my team, I didn’t need a second.
Her gaze fell to her belt, and she fingered the absent holes. “They were there yesterday.” Brows drawn, she looked back at me with wide blue eyes. “You saw me lock them in my locker.”
Yes, I did, but only she knew the combination, so only she could’ve moved them.
The codes in our bracelets contained passwords restricting our access to certain rooms within the prison. Our training room, for example, had a unique access code for my team and I, which meant no other prisoner could enter. Two scenarios were possible here. Either she lost them or one of my team played a prank on her. Tor was the clown of the group, so I put my money on him. Because she’d better not be playing me. There’d be repercussions.
“Don’t lose them again,” I warned her. “Get more from the armory after the mission. It’ll cost you credits though.”
“Fuck,” she muttered, shaking her head.
Yesterday, it had taken her an hour to shoot straight, nearly three hours to get twenty kill shots. She hated me for it, but she’d thank me later when it saved her ass.
I heard my father’s voice in my head, reminding me I was a loser, that I’d never achieve anything. Look where I ended up because I’d let Jaz down: with every other fuck up in the Guild. I had to get out of here. Prove my father was wrong. That’s why I worked my team to the bone. Shaped them to be the best Tollens. So I didn’t end up the loser he painted me to be.
I tapped my foot, waiting for the rest of the team. They were never late, but it didn’t mean they couldn’t be early, either. Nomical arrived first. Pascal turned up a close second, but he was always on time, followed by Raze, and Tor, last as usual.
“Let’s go.” I marched through the prison’s security system, and it beeped at every detection of metal, scanning all my weapons, recording every barcode. At the last post, I scanned my bracelet, and my authorization to leave the prison for a mission projected on a holographic screen.
“Proceed,” the sentry announced, receding a step with his spear in hand. He let me pass.
When we returned, those same scanners would remember and check every weapon we returned with. Then I’d have to write a report detailing any weapon discharged and every used item. A means to ensure we didn’t steal or horde weapons that would aid us in an escape attempt.
My team went through the same process, until the metal bars clunked and rolled on wheels to allow us out in the world. I lead them to the car park, inhaling the fresh air as the wind picked up creating a hazy sky from the swirling red dust.
Time to catch Styx, that bastard!
I unlocked “Black Bandit,” my Chevy Impala, and flicked open the trunk where everyone deposited their weapons. I drove, Raze sat beside me and everyone else piled in the back. No one else laid a hand on my baby.
I started the car and the engine roared to life. Over the speakers, Bruce Pettingway, a leadership guru, droned on about four management styles.
“Dude.” Tor smirked at me in the rearview mirror. “Are you listening to self-help?”
“Shut up.” I changed the station to a local pop channel, and I cringed at the music playing. It was going to be a really long ride.
Dammit. Tor was never going to let me live that down. There would be wisecracks in the gym, and at education, even on missions. But to be honest, those CDs had become one of my guilty pleasures, and I’d listen to any I got my hands on.
My car kicked up pebbles as I tore out of the lot, rocking Tor, Pascal, and Nomical in the back seat. I was in an even worse mood now thanks to Tor. Plus, I was still pissed at Nomical for talking to me like I was her equal, or worse, below her during training yesterday. I didn’t need her critique of my management style. Or her comments on how the guys took it.
I missed Jaz. Missed his friendship and counsel. Running this team was hard enough with him by my side and it was almost fucking impossible without him.
Since Jaz died, Raze stepped up as my new right-hand man. Thank God.
As we approached the tall iron gateway, the sentries in the tower activated the doors to roll back.
The gold crest of the Guardians—a lion with the wings of a dragon, representing Archangel Michael, our patron, casting Lucifer out of heaven, the lion symbolizing his heart and the wings the strength of a dragon—caught the morning sunlight as the gate peeled open.
I pulled the Impala onto the lonely paved road, jamming my foot on the gas. The car kicked forward with a rush of power. Nomical oomphed as she jerked forward. My driving took some getting used to. Stomping on the gas again, I injected more fuel into the cylinders, and the Impala purred, speeding past all the country scenery, headed for town. I liked my cars big and loud. Tor called it small cock syndrome. Fuckwit.
The Guild was a mix of mages and warriors, and my lack of magical talent left me insecure, like I wasn’t quite enough. Sometimes, I wished I was more like Raze. Unaffected. Calm and collected. He never said much… unless it was important. Although, he’d spoken more to Nomical than I’d ever seen him talk to anyone else.
I gripped the steering wheel tighter. Two years ago, I’d been shoved into the leadership role, and I didn’t have the first clue about leading. I’d bluffed my way through it. And now, I’d let a vamp kill my best friend.
My team probably worried I’d lead them to their deaths, too. They didn’t respect me, especially Tor, who never missed an opportunity to try to upstage me. He’d wanted to be team leader. Like a fuck-up could do this job.
After Jaz’s death, I’d needed something to channel my rage. Something to bring my broken squad together. To motivate my men… and get the best out of my team. I was still looking.
Fuck, we needed to catch this gantii. Today. I needed a lead on Styx. The fucker’s trail had gone stone cold until yesterday when we found a crumb. And day by day, my anger had grown. I’d taken to snapping at my team. I even broke Raze’s collarbone in training one day.
Fuck. I rubbed my face. I needed to catch Styx, put him on trial, hear the Council deliver his punishment, and send him back to his world.
“So, you reigned in a Shaitan?” Tor raised his voice over the music, referring to the Nomical’s claim in training yesterday.
She stared out the window. “We trapped it in a genie lamp.”
“That makes you a legend, Supergirl.”
Legend or not, she still had a lot to prove here. It didn’t give her an automatic pass.
She elbowed him in the ribs. “Just call me The Orange Strand.”
“You like The Silver Strand?” Pascal and Tor both asked at the same time.
“Hell, yeah!” she said. “One of the most underrated comics.”
“I agr
ee,” Pascal said.
“The Silver Strand has a subtle touch,” Tor said, about to go on one of his superhero diatribes, which he liked to do. A lot. “Everybody thinks a super heroine has to be bold and brash. I disagree. The shy and unsure characters make the more realistic characters. Like Captain Victorius’ offsider.”
“Cranking up the awe factor, guys,” Nomical said. “Out of all the comic book nerds I’ve met, no one likes The Silver Strand as much as I do.”
I hated all this geeky drivel. We should have been focusing on the mission at hand. At avenging Jaz. At getting out of the godforsaken Guardians!
“Raze,” I raised my voice. “Go over the mission brief again.”
They all took the hint and shut up. I needed a clear head for the mission and all of Tor’s superhero comic book bullshit wasn’t helpful. We weren’t heroes. We were criminals, disposable soldiers. Nothing more.
“Reports of tall, pale monsters seen in a graveyard west of town,” Raze began.
I glanced in the rearview mirror. Tor rolled his eyes. He viewed the dangerous nature of the Guardians appointment as a death sentence, and always said he was in it for a good time, not a long time.
Nomical’s lips tightened. I imagined running my thumb over her mouth, the feel of her soft, smooth lips.
Fuck, Knoxe, get a grip. Nomical was off limits.
Twenty minutes later, I pulled the Impala into the cemetery on the outskirts of town. Yesterday, strange reports from locals had flooded social media and the news. Freakish, pale demons had been spotted emerging from a crypt. All indications suggested Styx and his coven had holed up in a tomb.
Once my team piled out of the car, I got down to business. “Get your weapons ready, Tollens.” I loaded my projector with four stakes and grabbed an extra for good measure.
Vamps didn’t like the sunlight or any bright light for that matter. Their home world had darkened, red skies, which their large, dark eyes were adjusted to. Contrary to popular legend, they weren’t really nightwalkers.
“Don’t kill the Marra Wugul,” Raze reminded me with a hand to my shoulder. Marra Wugul – his people’s word for Star Walker. Raze was all about respecting nature, its creatures and the people, even those from other worlds. “We bring it to justice the right way, not your way.”
Fuck that. Styx would die at my hands. Not enter into the vampire’s system of justice to be dealt with.
Annoyed, I shook Raze off. We each had our beliefs, and mine was an eye for an eye. Plain and simple. “Styx is mine. We’ll take the rest back for arraignment.”
I’d already planned it out a thousand times in my head. My report to the Guardians would say we killed Styx while defending ourselves, but our ultimate round up of eleven rogue vampires. The team would keep their mouth’s shut.
“Raze and Pascal, you take the left wing.” I flicked my fingers in a series of hand commands. “Nomical, Tor, you’re with me.”
I didn’t trust those two alone. They might fuck up and ruin everything. I wanted to keep a close eye on them.
“Keep in contact on the comms.” I gave Raze and Pascal a firm nod. “Pascal, do your thing before we split up.”
From inside his jacket, Pascal produced his tuning fork and a black velvet pouch containing his collection of tone bars. Without looking, he knew which bar he wanted. He drew one of the metal rods, pointed it in the air, and struck the fork against the bar. Resonant. Vibrating. Different tones behaved in certain ways and he projected this one into the cemetery to find anyone or anything moving inside the graveyard.
Pascal shot me a fleeting glance. “Five bodies. Only us.”
“Dammit.” I rubbed my forehead. Another lost opportunity. But maybe we’d get a lead this time. “Head out.” I nodded at my team before venturing off to the right.
Our bracelets would serve as the comms which would be recorded by the Guardians. I would have to figure out a way to edit the recordings before they were downloaded back at the Guild. They would need to support my story about Styx meeting an unfortunate and accidental demise. I might have to make a visit to the Guild Black Market.
I scanned the cemetery for signs of the vamps as we approached a tomb with an angel on it. Of all the places to hide. A cemetery; where the dead souls haunted the living.
“Boss.” Tor jerked his head, drawing my attention to a spot at the foot of the tombstone.
“Nomical, come here.” I bent to run my finger through what could only be vamp goo. “See this?” She squinted as she studied it.
I hadn’t noticed the ring of gold around her blue eyes before. The sunlight brought it out. Pretty.
Jesus. No way in hell was I letting a chick distract me. Even if she had the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen. Even if her energy changed the dynamics in the group for the better.
“This is vamp goo,” I explained, and her gaze met mine. Steadfast. Attentive. Keen. Qualities I liked in my soldiers.
“They leave this sticky substance everywhere they go,” she quoted from one of the books I’d instructed her to read.
“Good.” I nodded. She learned fast. That was what I wanted in a crewmember. When we got back to the Guardians, I’d give her more to read.
She listened to instruction and obeyed orders. More good qualities that would benefit the team. Maybe she wasn’t as bad as I’d initially thought.
I lifted my bracelet to my mouth. “Raze, Pascal. We found vamp goo.”
“Roger that.”
I stood up, my fingers tightening on my stake.
“Wait.” Nomical lifted her forefingers to her temples and rubbed. “There’s a strange compound in this.”
“What?” I glanced back at her, impatient, wanting to bust in on the lair, and nail Styx before he heard us coming. We didn’t have time to stand around and chat.
“Chemicals and mathematical equations are my gift.” Nomical pulled a tissue from her pocket, wiped the vamp goo, wrapped it, and tucked it into her uniform. “I don’t recognize several of the compounds here. It’s not an element from Earth.”
“Of course, you don’t.” I grabbed her arm and jerked her to her feet. “They’re from another dimension. Now let’s go.”
She yanked out of my grasp. “Do the Guardians have a lab to test it?”
“Yes.” I frowned, my fingers twitchy, my body on edge, my mind antsy and wary of losing the vamps. “Why?”
“There’s two lots of DNA here.”
Chapter 17
Pascal
I lifted my tuning fork and struck it three times with a tone bar. The pulses soothed me. Expanding waves. Visible. Distinct. My sounds. I sent pulses in a circle. Three-hundred-sixty degrees. Once. Twice. Three times. I needed to see what the music saw. Feel what it felt.
My frequencies hit all the structures within the cemetery, bouncing off them, and returning to me, forming pictures in my mind. Distorted images of objects surrounding Raze and I that I struggled to make sense of. I clutched the side of my head at the dull ache that never went away, even with Tylenol. The headaches were getting worse and interfering with my sonar abilities.
Normally the sound frequencies helped to soothe the rush of overwhelming information driving me crazy. But something had thrown me off the past few weeks, something beyond the headaches, and I couldn’t figure out what.
“What’d you find, sonar boy?” Raze scanned like a hunter searching for prey.
My teammates called me that because my powers mimicked the way dolphins and bats used sound in the dark to navigate.
I focused harder at the warped objects in my mind trying to decipher them.
“Gravestones. Crypts, iron gates, wooden seats, rose bushes and shrubs, trees.” Of course, I assumed a lot from what I’d observed.
Several feet away, Raze crept through the adjacent row of headstones, communicating through hand signals like a soldier, telling me to go east.
I appreciated that Raze respected my space. A loner like me, he barely said anything to me, unlike some
of the other prisoners who hounded me for being different. For not understand emotions and jokes.
After Jaz’s death, Raze had assumed Jaz’s role of putting a hand on Knoxe’s chest when he got irritated with me, of barking at Tor to stop agitating me.
I pulled out the Captain Victorius pin from my pocket. A gift from Jaz. I stroked it, remembering when he gave it to me. After my first encounter with a siren in the lake. Her song, her music, had entranced the rest of the team, and if it weren’t for me, they’d have walked into the lake and drowned. I’d sent out a neutralizing tone to batter hers, and the team had come to. Jaz was so grateful, he bought the gift for me.
I missed him so much. He sat next to me at meals. Patted my back when I had a meltdown or a rough day. Now, all I had were the frequencies.
“Sonar boy!” Raze said gruffly. “Put that away and concentrate.”
Oh yeah. The mission.
I turned my attention back to my tuning forks and chimed them extra times. Warped outlines of five people, a few birds, bugs, and what I guessed was two crypts by the size of them. No vampires. Well, not out in the open, at least. They were hiding in one of the crypts and I couldn’t see because my frequencies couldn’t penetrate stone or thick material. But I doubted eleven of them, at seven foot tall, would squash into one. If anything, they’d spread out across multiple vaults.
“Let’s check out the crypts.” I stalked carefully, keeping my footsteps light. “There’s one over here and fifty feet to the north.”
“Okay.” Raze kept my pace. “I’ll open the door for you. Cover me.”
I nodded.
Raze was pretty strong for a human. Maybe as strong as a vampire. I’d seen him tear one’s arm off once in a fight. I didn’t doubt he could budge a crypt door open. But I don’t know how he’d fare against a coven of them at once.
Long ago, he and Knoxe had given up on trying to communicate with me. We just didn’t speak the same language. I conversed through music while they spoke with their fists, their strength, and growling words. Jaz had been the one to help me understand, to translate words and sentences to musical notes, sounds and concepts that I understood. I’d lost that barrier, that connection to my team, and I wanted it back. I wanted to understand.