The SoulChaser and Guardian rounded the corner and discovered Levahn faced off against Clovis.
At some point Levahn had picked up a sturdy metal pipe about a meter long. It gave him little advantage, however, but at least he could match Clovis’ reach.
Brenden looked around, hoping to find something in the alien landscape of the life-size dioramic display nearby, even as Kiah slowly drew the sais from his belt.
Three-on-one wouldn’t present much of a problem, a fact that the insane Clovis had managed to work out for himself. Now in his tight grasp was a small girl of about five years old. He had her held tightly against his hip, anchored there by the painful grip of his left hand squeezing against her throat. It didn’t look tight enough to choke her completely; Kiah could hear her wheeze a breath every couple of seconds, but it was constricted enough to turn her face a bright pink.
Nearby, the girl’s parents, both well dressed in casual outfits similar to their daughter’s, had calmed a bit. With Kiah and Levahn both brandishing weapons, Brenden had taken the time to calm the parents enough that they weren’t frantic now, but enraged, which could be easier to influence.
“Careful,” Brenden was saying. “Stand back. We’ll take care of this.”
“So help me,” the father said, “if he hurts her, I’ll sue this entire organization!”
“A lawsuit?” the mother demanded, for a moment turning her anger on her husband. “Sammy is being held at knife point and all you can do is threaten to sue?”
Kiah tuned out the parents, focusing his energy on Clovis. The man stood with his back to the sturdy metal rail. Beyond him was a panoramic view of half of the main floor of the exhibit. The second floor only took up one end of the building. He doubted the rogue would try and jump, especially with a hostage. The man’s mind had deteriorated enough that only simple concepts made it through to action. Years of SoulChasing told the Guardian that they could use this to their advantage.
Outside, the weather worsened, the storm clouds swirling above, lit from within by a kaleidoscope of colored lightning.
Levahn looked from Clovis and the little girl to Kiah, slowly rotating the silver sai in each hand.
Clovis had quit trying to talk. He had even quit laughing, which Levahn took as a bad sign. All he did was hold tight to his hostage and sweep the metal blade back and forth between them all.
If it came down to it, Levahn doubted that the sword was sharp enough to do much damage to an adult in a short time. For certain, though, it could hurt the innocent child if he used it on her.
In his mind, Levahn ran through several different options, all of which he discarded. Then he saw the look of determination that Brenden and Kiah shared. He didn’t think they’d hurt the little girl on purpose, but he recognized the resolve of a soldier that had a tough decision to make and collateral damage to be absorbed. It was the look in their eyes which filled Levahn with resolve. As the blade swung back around to point at the girl’s terrified parents beside him, he tensed himself. A heartbeat before the blade swung to point at him, Levahn locked gazes with Kiah, and in that brief moment, complete understanding came across the Guardian’s face.
Before Kiah could say anything, Levahn let out a shrieking war cry of his own and charged forward. As he anticipated, Clovis reacted to his movement, thrusting forward instinctively. Grunting in pain, Levahn accepted the blow, feeling the metal blade slide through his stomach and out his back. It hit with such intensity and ferocity, the deed was done before he had even processed the sensations.
Staring into Clovis’ eyes, for the briefest moment the craze lifted and all Levahn saw there was the astonished man at the other end of the blade. Then Levahn choked and sprayed drops of blood, the red painting a demonic mask across Clovis’ face. Blood leaked past his lips and trickled down his chin and dripped in silence onto the rubberized metal floor.
A moment later, Brenden stepped in and braced Clovis against the metal railing that overlooked the main floor of the exhibit hall.
With a cry of relief, the little girl wriggled from Clovis’ limp grip and fled to the open arms of her sobbing parents.
Then came Kiah’s turn. In silence he approached the rogue and without hesitation slid one of the vicious blades between Clovis’ ribs, all the way in to pierce his heart. Stepping back, he let Brenden take control of the rogue.
Trying to talk proved impossible impaled on a sword. Levahn staggered back a few steps, then his strength left him. Kiah was there and helped ease Kenah’s only brother to the floor. He pulled the sword out and Levahn gasped as it left his body.
Coughing blood, Levahn tried to speak, but still found it impossible.
“Shh...” Kiah soothed him and knelt beside Levahn.
“Little girl... okay?” Levahn managed to gasp past the blood collecting in his throat.
Kiah nodded and smiled, which brought a smile to Levahn’s face. “Worth it... couldn’t let him... hurt her.”
“You did a great thing. Your family will be very proud of you,” Kiah said.
Peering at him, Levahn said, “Still... not enough...?”
Kiah shrugged.
“I’m just a retired old SoulChaser. I don’t decide these things.”
From behind Kiah, a woman’s voice spoke, resonating in their heads, “But I do.”
Kiah shifted his weight so he could search out the source of the announcement. Standing behind him, her polished scythe arcing out above her head, a Reaper waited. Clad in voluminous robes over a tunic, trousers and boots – all dead black – she resembled little of Mortality’s concept of a Reaper.
“Madam Reaper,” Kiah said, then lifted Levahn up enough that he could see her, too.
At that moment Levahn thought he should have felt fear, terror, or at least apprehension; instead he felt peace, warmth. With that strengthening him, he met the woman’s other-worldly gaze.
“Levahn, son of Jabon, son of Areth. I have been sent to bring you back. Due to your recent act of selflessness, your deeds are being reevaluated, taking these recent acts into account. You will come with me, in case your Eternal Reward needs to be... adjusted.”
The Reaper’s voice seemed to echo with the sound of wind chimes.
Never breaking his gaze from hers, Levahn nodded. Then, he turned his eyes to the smiling face of Kiah. He reached up a bloody hand and touched the dark man’s cheek.
The Heraldic runes carved into the Reaper’s staff flared bright yellow and she tapped it once on the floor. The echo of thunder outside rattled the building around them and Levahn’s host body arched, his eyes wider than looked possible. A moment later, the translucent image of Levahn’s soul rose up from the host body, then faded into nothingness. The host went limp. With respect, Kiah lay it on the floor. That was when he noticed Brenden standing beside him.
“The rogue’s gone.”
Steeling himself, Kiah stood up and fixed his attention on the SoulChaser. “So’s Levahn.”
Noticing the astonished, frightened crowd gathering around them, Brenden said, “We seem to attract attention wherever we go.”
With a nod, Kiah agreed. “Let’s move. This is bound to get worse before it gets better. Plus, we’ve no idea how much time you’ve got left.”
“Agreed. Heading south, I’m guessing,” Brenden said, holding the recently used SoulStar in his hand. Its warmth pulsed, confirming his statement.
Kiah led the way, filtering through the press of bodies. Both men ignored commands from various onlookers to stop where they were, abandoning the exhibit hall into the heavy night.
Chapter 66
“Organized Withdrawal”
At the Landmark Resort, Kathryn stepped out from her hiding place behind a shaved ice stand, squeezed off three quick shots from her AR-15, then ducked back under cover as an octocrawler tentacle snapped thr
ough the air where her head had been.
“What I’d give for a bio-matter grenade,” she growled.
“Wrong planet,” Bishop said from his hiding place nearby.
Surprised that her voice had carried that far, given the amount of noise being generated around them, Kathryn nodded to him; then she pulled a conventional grenade off a belt-link, pulled the pin and tossed it back-handed over the shaved ice stand as hard as she could. Four seconds later the grenade went off, decimating the octocrawler and two smaller hellhounds nearby.
The elation was short lived as a spout of draconi flame scorched the opposite side of the shaved ice stand. She ducked down as low to the ground as she could, feeling the heat coming off the small structure in waves and hearing the metal and wood pop and crackle under the intensity of the flames.
The first indication that the tide had turned against her team was a single urgent yell, “Shadow stalkers!” followed by a choked gurgling from the bloody mess that a moment before had been Bishop.
“Break cover!” Kathryn yelled. “Stay out of the deep shadows!” Following her own advice, she charged out into the open, spraying bullets down range with near-reckless abandon, she ran all-out for the far side of the concourse, where Dillon had hunkered in, lit by a high-output mini-lamp attached to his shoulder.
“Time to change tactics?” Dillon asked, even as another of their team farther back screamed to death.
“Shadow stalkers die like everything else,” Kathryn said. “We’ve already lost two to them.” Another scream from even farther away ended abruptly.
“Three?” Dillon corrected.
Kathryn keyed her mic. “Back off, everyone. Fall back to the pavilion we passed coming in. Denny, you still with us?”
After a few moments of static, she heard over her earpiece, “Yes, ma’am, but we lost Charlotte and Forbes, that I know of. I’m hunkered down in a burned out store, lighting up the night as best I can.”
Kathryn nodded in approval.
“Good. Go light up the old pavilion, then take up a clear POV of the entrance. Don’t let anyone in that doesn’t give you the passcode. Verbal or sign, either is fine.” She paused to think for a moment, then keyed her mic again. “Bradford, please tell me you’re still with us.”
“Yes, ma’am,” came the immediate response. “I’ve been doing what I can from here.”
Kathryn sighed a touch and said, “Good. Can you see Denny or the pavilion from where you are?”
After a short pause, Bradford said, “No, ma’am. I don’t have eyes on either.”
“OK, haul ass over and give Denny what cover you can, so he can get to the pavilion. He should be due south of you. Then I want you to back him up at the entrance.”
The pause this time was longer. “You want me to abandon my eyes-on search for the Dark Lady?”
“Affirmative. If we all get killed, it won’t matter if you have eyes on her or not. Copy?”
No hesitation this time. “Copy that. En route.”
Orders given, Kathryn glanced over at Dillon, almost glowing from the amount of light he’d managed to get going around them. He had kept a constant vigilance against the shadows beyond the garbage bin fire he’d started to keep the shadow stalkers at bay.
“Now it’s our turn,” she said.
“This should be interesting,” Dillon muttered, shining his lamp on one of the nearby back alleys and said, “Ladies first?”
Kathryn nodded. “Cover my six,” she said, then ran for the alley.
“Gladly,” Dillon agreed and followed.
Chapter 67
“When Their World Comes Crashing Down”
Brenden and Kiah made their way down the main thoroughfare. The crowd had become more frantic as the weather deteriorated. Clouds above swirled in the night sky, lit by an intermittent rainbow of sheet lightning.
The two men almost made it to the arena before the clouds cut loose. The sky shattered as nickel-size hail pummeled the entire valley.
Concerned Centennial goers became panicked parents and grandparents almost instantly. The crush of humanity made frantic sprints for solid cover, most pushing and shoving into the permanent carnival booths. Everyone hoped to escape the bone-breaking storm... a storm which increased its intensity rather than raging itself out.
Brenden stayed close to Kiah, who on instinct pushed his Guardian influence beyond himself, causing the hail to fall clear of the two of them.
As the pair reached the grandstand, the crush of Centennial goers shifted when many of them took cover under the old structure. Hundreds more remained on the bleachers, getting pummeled by the thickening hail.
“Isn’t there anything you can do?” Brenden asked, their forward movement halted by the flood of people pushing against them.
Kiah looked around, at a complete loss for a way to help them all.
“Woah!” Brenden exclaimed as the surge of people caught him up and swept him toward the cover of the grandstand. “Kiah!” he yelled, even as he disappeared into the darkness beneath it.
The Guardian turned in time to see his friend vanish into the shadows. Then, from the chaos above, lightning lanced down and splintered into multiple strikes, each impacting part of the grandstand – still more than half-full of spectators and with a mass of people taking shelter beneath it.
Kiah watched in horror as, with an ear-splitting crash, the entire structure collapsed. For the first time in a long while, he could only stand and bear witness to the terror and death around him.
Across the arena, the thunderous impact of the collapsing grandstand caught Jake and Shannon’s attention simultaneously.
“Oh, God,” Shannon whispered, covering her mouth in shock.
Jake could only stare in horrified silence.
“What?” Damon asked his mother, turning to try and see over the mass of bodies around them.
Shannon turned her son away from the terrible sight and pulled him to her in a crushing embrace.
Those spectators on the front row of seating had the advantage of the canvas sheeting acting as a stage cover. Its flexibility absorbed much of the hailstones’ direct impact. But then the wind picked up and heavy raindrops began to splatter down, along with the chunks of ice.
Sheltering his face against the deluge, Jake checked to make sure that Natey and Damon hadn’t been separated from the group. Then, massive commotion behind him caught his attention. He turned in time to see the second of two stacks of expensive stage amplifiers crash into a heap, sparking and feeding sound back over the last few functioning stadium speakers.
The handful of preschoolers remaining on the stage, a group that had started out over two dozen strong, huddled together, their tears mixing with the rain beating down on the exposed areas of the stage.
After a quick glance to make sure Natey and Damon were still with their mothers, Jake turned and leaped onto the stage, adrenaline crackling in his veins. He ran over to the small crowd of children, gathered around the single remaining preschool teacher, kneeling in their center. She had a hand pressed to her head where she had run into a lighting tree just offstage. Blood leaked out between her fingers, causing more panic among the children than the ferocious weather.
Jake knelt down and put his mouth close to the teacher’s ear. “We gotta get you and the kids out of here!” he had to yell to be heard.
She nodded and he helped her to her feet. She wobbled a bit, then managed to get her balance. With a few encouraging words, they began to guide the children toward the nearest stage exit. The scattered beams from the few remaining stage lights helped a little, but still left pools of darkness, some of which had filled with shallow puddles.
A tremendous thunder crash echoed through the valley, dislodging one of the remaining stage lamps. To Jake it seemed to fall in slow motion. In still f
rames of memory he saw the arc of the lamp heading toward one of the puddles where one of the preschoolers still walked. In a surge of motion he charged forward, shoving the child off the stage to the moist ground as the lamp sparked and grounded in the water. Jake splashed down beside it and his body arched from the electric shock. A moment later, a breaker blew backstage and the lamp went dead; Jake’s body went slack.
“Jakob!” Shannon screamed from the front of the stage. “Stay with Taya,” she said to Damon, then pulled herself onto the stage. With care she threaded her way between the puddles to where the show producer lay still. Cautious of the danger of falling victim to the same fate, she gingerly prodded his leg with her tennis shoe. Satisfied that the electric charge was spent, she grabbed one of his legs and pulled him around to the rear of the stage, out of the hail and the rain. He didn’t even groan.
Kneeling down beside him, Shannon held Jake’s head gently, wiping the water from his eyes and face. Trying not to panic, she listened close to his mouth and sighed at the sound of breathing. Patting him lightly on the face, she said, “Come on, Jake. Wake up.”
Still, he remained silent.
“Jake, I have to tell you about Damon. You can’t leave me again. I have to tell you about Damon!” This time mentioning her son, Shannon looked up to the front of the stage, expecting to see Taya and the boys hunkered down where she had left them. The front of the stage was abandoned. The injured man in her arms forgotten for the moment, she scanned the length of the front of the large stage, but found no sign of her son.
Her motherly instincts kicking in, Shannon dropped Jake’s head to the stage with a “thump” and, throwing caution away, ran across the stage to where she had left Taya and the boys. Even from her vantage point, looking out over the sea of moving bodies, she couldn’t spot Taya’s bleach blond hair.
“Damon!” Shannon screamed. Her voice was caught up by the wind and carried away. “Damon!”
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