Rebellion Reborn, page 25
The morning of the event, I pulled on my cuirass and vest then geared up, except for my swords, which I kept rolled up in a towel in my bag right at the base of the stairs on the second-floor landing. I checked my sidearms only once then glued myself to the monitors next to Mendez and Graves to await confirmation of the location from the tailing unit.
The meeting place was across the Hudson in Jersey City, in a large warehouse just outside the Holland Tunnel butted up against the interstate. The old factory building was six stories tall, with very few windows scattered along the lower floors. The only entrances were loading bays underneath access road overpasses with no clear line of sight from outside. The place was a virtual bunker with choke points for entrances. Because of the size of the building and its limited access, a secondary surveillance team was quickly positioned in a moving and storage company directly across the interstate from the facility, and a full TAC team took over one of the parking bays of the Port Authority building just down the street.
“Shouldn’t we be over there with them?” I asked Graves, unable to think of any reason I could tell her why we should be but desperate to be closer.
“No, so just relax and let our people do their thing,” she replied, her brow deeply furrowed as she eyed me.
I could feel every muscle in my body tighten, and the pain in my recently healed broken hand caused me to wince. I crossed my arms, watched, and listened intently as all supporting units checked in as ready over the next hour. The sun set, midnight came and went, and I hadn’t moved. I wasn’t even sure I had breathed.
Mendez held up a protein bar from his position hunkered in front of the monitors. “You want something to eat?”
Before I could answer, the reflection on his glasses caught my eye as a vehicle driving down the middle of the street came into view of the cameras outside our building. It was a military-style Humvee painted black or dark gray, with a canvas cover over its stubby bed. It screeched to a halt in front of the main door to our building, then something tumbled out of the back of the truck and flopped onto the street. Gracile arms and legs were splayed at odd angles from the lithe form, and my heart instantly stopped.
Without thinking, I bolted down the stairs, grabbing my wrapped swords as I passed my bunk, and slammed through the front door. It came loose from its rickety frame and tumbled onto the sidewalk as the Humvee suddenly shot off with a throaty roar. I ripped the Sig from my vest, but the truck rounded the corner and was out of sight before I could get a clean shot. I holstered the gun and ran to the naked form lying face down in the street. The pale skin was streaked with crusty and fresh oozing liquid I assumed to be blood and bore massive red and purple bruises up and down the back, legs, and arms. The long dark hair was matted and caked with more dark liquid. I realized that it wasn’t Sarah at the very instant I noticed the woman’s chest move faintly with the shallowest of breaths. Rapid and chaotic footfalls came from our building behind me as lights began to come on in the upper floors of the other buildings along the street.
“Call an ambulance and get me a blanket, now!” I screamed at whoever was approaching.
I gently turned the woman over to find a shiny metallic spike rammed into her chest amid vicious and deep cuts and bruises. Her face was only partly beaten, with her right cheek badly swollen and distended, but I recognized the face—the Moroi vampire who ran Cocytus. Her eyes fluttered slightly, and she moaned. I could see a trace of bluish energy leaking toward her from my arm as I cradled her head. I surprised myself by not jerking my arm away to stop her from feeding off me. As I stared down at her, I knew she was meant to be a message, and a burning sensation at the nape of my neck and skull began to grow. I rubbed at it until Phillips came down with a blanket and knelt next to me as we covered her up.
“Ambulance is on the way. Holy shit,” Phillips said, seeing the injuries up close. “How is she even still alive?”
“I don’t know,” I lied. I stood and rubbed at the nape of my neck. The growing discomfort spread across my scalp, becoming a sudden shooting pain. And then it dawned on me—the pain was Duma’s panic button. Sarah was in trouble.
I began running down the block toward Canal Street, but even moving as fast as I was, I knew it wasn’t fast enough. As I approached the corner of Canal and Lafayette, a car was waiting for the traffic light to change. I pulled the Sig from its holster on my chest and shattered the driver’s-side window with a quick backhand.
“Out. Now,” I shouted at the driver. I didn’t point the gun, but the young, well-dressed guy behind the wheel held up his hands, too scared to say or do anything but comply with my demand.
I jumped into the small sedan and floored it, heading for the Holland Tunnel as fast as the car could go. Thankfully, traffic late at night during the week was as light as it ever got in Manhattan, and I weaved through traffic on Canal Street and into the tunnel at ninety miles an hour. I blew through the tollbooth at the end of the tunnel, skidded through the intersection at Jersey Avenue, and bounced over a curb and into the parking lot adjacent to the giant bunker-like warehouse where Cocytus was meeting. I slammed the brake pedal to the floor, bringing the car to a rapid stop in the middle of the lot, shoved open the door, and jumped out without concerning myself with the car.
The only entrance into the building from this side was a boarded-up glass door flanked by a bank of boarded-up windows at the top of a covered landing a few steps up from the parking lot. I pulled my swords free from the towel I’d wrapped them in, slid them back into their scabbards on my back, then pulled my Sig as I ran. At nearly full speed, I slammed my shoulder into the plywood covering the doorway. The glass on the other side shattered, along with the wood, as the metal doorframe twisted then slid open awkwardly against its hinges. I didn’t even slow down enough to think about the fact that the DHS TAC team was nowhere to be seen. Either they didn’t know something was wrong or the situation was worse than I’d thought.
The door opened into what was likely a reception area at one time, but a pair of large metal birdcages were the only things in the space. One was occupied by a man and the other a woman. The walls were lined with a heavy velvet curtain from floor to ceiling. Light came from candles spread out on small tables and tall candelabras.
“Door,” I screamed, pointing the gun first at the man then at the woman. “Now!”
Both of them began to freak out, and within seconds, two well-built men wearing carnival-type masks pushed their way through an opening in the curtain in front of me. Dressed in expensive suits, neither showed signs of being armed.
Stupid move.
“Let me pass, and I won’t hurt you,” I said.
“Funny,” the one to my right said. “I was going to say, ‘Leave, and we won’t hurt you.’”
“I asked.” I put two rounds into both of their legs, dropping them instantly.
As they writhed on the floor, I stepped past them, parted the curtain, and found the door. There was no knob on my side, so I heel-kicked the lock as hard as I could, rending the metal just enough to break it. The door swung partially open onto a long, dimly lit hallway. Instantly, a hail of bullets ripped across the hall from a single shooter twenty feet down, but I was able to duck behind the door without being hit. Kneeling, I slammed the door fully open, quickly put two rounds into the shooter’s torso, then advanced with the Sig held in a combat high position. I knelt next to the shooter and grabbed his gun—a fully automatic Glock 18c with an extended magazine. I ejected the clip then smashed the composite frame into the concrete floor. The gunman was breathing, albeit raggedly, but I had no time to deal with him.
I continued to the metal door at the end of the hallway, which had a keycard entry panel next to the knob. Before trying to open the door, I quickly ejected the partially used magazine in my Sig and inserted a full one. Using one sword, I cut through the deadbolt as quietly as I could. Without the lock to hold it, the door swung open a few inches, and I returned my sword to its scabbard on my back then slowly pushed it completely open. Soft chamber music echoed below, along with occasional laughter and the sounds of indistinct conversations. I stood on a small metal landing at the top of stairs headed down, but they were blocked by another heavy curtain just a few steps down.
I cautiously pulled the curtain aside just enough to get a view of what was behind. In the diffusely lit cavernous space, several nearly nude women sat on an expansive red couch, flanking a man wearing a mask and a tuxedo. Stretched out above were six floors of catwalks and metal galley ways. The lack of other people unnerved me.
“Ah, Diomedes, I presume?” the man on the couch asked in a heavy French accent, removing his mask to reveal his face. He was very much human. “Go and get her, please, my dear,” he said, leaning toward one of the women.
I pushed the curtain fully aside and began slowly walking down the steps, gun trained on him as I tried to take in my surroundings. He didn’t worry me, but whoever “her” was did.
“Come, join us.” The man stood and motioned to a broad and tall leather armchair across from the couch.
The space was half the size of a football field, and with all the metal around us, it reminded me of a giant cage. The only light came from thousands of candles spread randomly around the space, leaving large areas in utter darkness. Chains hung from industrial structures that had probably held machinery at one time, but other than a few random pieces of overly large furniture, the parts I could see were empty. I couldn’t even see any stairways or lifts to the upper levels.
“No thanks, I think I’ll stand,” I said, continuing to examine my surroundings. “Who is she going to get?”
“Ah, well, the new management,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I believe you knew the previous one, no? Please do sit down. Things are already tense enough, wouldn’t you say?”
“Where is Criseida Calchasidou?” I asked, staring hard at the man. If he knew who I was, he wasn’t concerned, which bothered me.
“You mean Department of Homeland Security Agent Sarah Wright, don’t you?” He smiled a wide, very white grin that made me want to shoot him on principle.
I scowled at his response.
“Yes, we know. And we know that the former management of this organization gave you privileged information that led to Agent Wright’s presence here.” His smile widened further.
For the briefest of moments, I contemplated firing a round into the couch next to him just to scare him, but I didn’t think it would help. This guy was a mouthpiece, not someone in charge. He knew what they wanted him to know and nothing more. He was worthless, not to mention smug, and he was beginning to annoy me. The way I saw it, he had chosen his lot and thrown in with monsters. So I shot him in the shoulder to shut him up. The gunshot reverberated in the empty shell of a building, but the spokesman’s surprised scream mixed with the high-pitched wailing of the woman sitting next to him drowned out the echo.
“Shut up. You’ll be fine if you remain quiet,” I said, moving around the space to get a better feel for it. There were just too many dark recesses and places for attackers to hide in ambush.
“Now, now, Diomedes,” said a deep, sultry woman’s voice from somewhere overhead. “That was a little impetuous, don’t you think?”
“It shut him up, didn’t it?” I replied, trying to see if I could locate the source of the voice without placing myself in the open. “Besides, he’ll live. He should have picked his associates better anyway.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the remaining woman try to slink off the couch and run. “I suggest you stay put. You’re much safer where I can see you,” I said to her.
On the fifth-floor catwalk, someone stepped into the candlelight. It was the woman I’d encountered briefly in the hall in San Francisco, and it was very clear from the power and energy emanating from her that she was far from human. The energy formed some sort of grotesque and deformed bearing that kept blurring her physical form. One second, she was a beautiful dark-haired woman wearing a blood-red bustier and nothing else, and the next, she was a thick, hunched, apelike monster with long claws, massive uneven horns on its head and leathery wings.
“Na’amah, is that you?” I asked. “Forgive me, I have never seen one of the Sisters in person before. And can I add, ewww. Just ewww. Seriously.”
“Such disrespect from a human, even one of the so-called Guardians.” With a blurred and erratic flash, she instantly reappeared in the exact same position one floor lower. “Some Guardian. You cannot even protect those you care for. But that is of no consequence now.”
“Hurt Sarah, and I will send you to your own personal hell, full of puppies and kittens and lots of soft, fluffy things,” I said, trying not to growl while fighting every instinct to empty the magazine in my gun at her. It probably wouldn’t hurt her anyway.
“Her, no, I have need of her. I meant him,” she said with a grin that revealed lots of small, pointed teeth.
From the darkness, something came tumbling down in a deafening metallic rattle. It stopped with a jerk fifteen feet up. It was Duma, wrapped in chains and badly beaten. I couldn’t tell if he was alive or dead. While I searched for some sign of life in my friend, an attractive blonde dressed in a white latex dress walked into a lighted area one floor up at the far side of the space. She was definitely not human. She had to be Fae of some kind.
“You think hurting those I care for will actually scare me off... or just make me more dangerous?” I asked in a low voice, trying to control my urge to start shooting everything and everyone. “And if you’re the hulder he spoke of, I suggest you run. Now,” I said, jerking my head at Duma dangling above me. “And pray it’s me and not Abraxos that finds you.”
“Scare you, Diomedes?” Na’amah asked, her voice dripping with pleasure. “No. I want your pain.”
Screaming at the top of my lungs, I brought the Sig to bear on her position and pulled the trigger as fast as I could, but before the first bullet would have even reached her, she flashed again and vanished completely. It didn’t stop me from emptying the magazine, though. Underneath the monstrous echo from the gun, I could hear sudden movement from every direction around me. I holstered the gun and pulled my swords.
“You two should leave. Now. If you remain, you will die here,” I said to the wounded spokesman and his girl toy. She helped him to his feet, and they both headed up the stairs I’d come down.
Above me, a dozen men spread out over two levels, all dressed in black fatigues, helmets, and tactical vests, all pointing machine guns down at me. The letters DHS were stenciled in white on their vests. Every one of them had motes of blue-white energy dancing around their heads and faces. Fairy magic.
My eyes flashed to the hulder, who smiled and waved at me as she backed into the darkness above. Oh yeah, she’s definitely on the top tier of my shit list now.
Half a dozen other figures emerged from the darkness on the floor around me. Among them were a male and female Bennephilim. He carried a four-foot-long cudgel, and she was lazily spinning a length of chain with a heavy spiked ball on the end. Sparks and chunks of cement flew every time it hit the floor. The rest were human—three men and one woman—all armed with pistols and dressed in suits. Unlike the DHS TAC team above, nothing about them suggested they were being manipulated.
“You four, leave,” I said, addressing the mundanes in front of me while spinning the swords at my sides. “If you choose to stay and fight, I will kill you. I promise that whatever they are paying you, this isn’t worth it.”
A few scoffs and snickers met my offer, then I charged, roaring into the echo of the empty warehouse. My battle cry was nearly drowned out by the riot of automatic gunfire that rained down from the entranced TAC team above, but I moved too fast for them to follow accurately in their current state. I went for the four mundanes first, because they carried firearms, while the Bennephilim carried handheld weapons.
Despite my warning to them, I was still averse to killing mortals unless necessary. I hit the closest man of the group in the chest with my forearm at full sprint, sending him flying backward into one of the others, and the pair tumbled to the ground. I swung a backhand at the remaining male gunman, hitting him in the cheek. Bone cracked under the blow, and he spun as he fell, firing wildly into the air. I dropped and lunged, sweeping my leg out, catching the woman at her heels, knocking her onto her back with a thud as the air was forced from her lungs. Before I could stand and face the two giants, the male hit me in the chest with an underhand blow of his cudgel that sent me sprawling backward.
I landed hard on my back as the female’s spiky ball barreled down at me from high overhead. I quickly rolled to my right to avoid the impact then rolled back, bringing my sword down on the chain just as the ball embedded itself in the cement floor next to me, severing it. I reversed direction and rolled to my right to get under cover of the catwalks to avoid a potential hail of gunfire from above.
The male chased me, and by the time I got to one knee, he brought the cudgel down at my head. I threw both swords up to catch the attack, and the force of the impact cut the weapon in half on my blades. The blow would have crushed a grizzly’s skull if it connected, but the sudden destruction of his weapon tipped him off balance. As he stumbled toward me, I sprang forward to meet the behemoth, rammed one of my swords through his chest, and brought the other across his throat, nearly severing his head. Using our combined momentum, I directed him past me. Back on my feet, I squared off against the female Bennephilim, who was spinning her chain for an attack, until I dispatched her compatriot. The whipping end of the heavy chain fell to the ground with a metallic chink as the shock of what had happened sank in. I didn’t have time for a staring contest—the others might gain their feet again any moment. I needed to move.
Before I could take a full breath, she began spinning the chain again. If she knew how to use the weapon, she would try to keep me at a distance, so I decided not to give her the opportunity. I spun, threw one of my swords at her, and drew the Glock off my hip. The blade hit her in the lower abdomen, inadvertently causing her to release the chain harmlessly past me. I dodged slightly just to make sure the chain missed and fired three times into her chest. To her credit, she took a full step before she fell to her knees. I walked closer and put a round into her head.
