Necropolis
Try to understand me when I say this. We cannot win against them. Do not start a war with the Remnants.
My shadows tear through the nearest agent. Then the next. Of the over two dozen, nearly five go down without firing off a shot. Between whatever Azazel is doing beside me, the first few never stood a chance. I can’t even see the mage, but I can hear—and see—the effects of their red tinged magic.
I whip daggers at the furthest ones who still crowd Kronos and the girls. The void-like blades penetrate without a hint of resistance. Blood splatters along the chic tile floor.
The agents who’d held Ana to the ground shuffle backwards, realizing their numbers mean nothing. That lets Ana get her hands underneath her.
She whirls on the nearest agent and throws a nasty hook into his jaw.
His entire head spins on its axis like there had never even been a spinal column.
The last dozen agents finally begin to fire back, each with a weapon larger than my head.
One strikes my leg and, to their credit, it does hurt. Quite a bit.
But not enough to slow the shadows curling at their legs, pulling them to the floor, and spiking each through the neck.
With two left, they seem to finally realize they’ve lost.
Both drop their weapons and back up, hands raised.
Kronos gets to his feet, looking a little rattled.
“Check on Lucille,” I say to him, pointing at the girl still on her side. She’s alive, but she’d taken a nasty kick from that psychopath.
Kronos nods and crosses the room, crouching beside her.
“Look—” one of the agents says and send a spike through his throat. His head hangs a little before toppling off his torso.
The rest of his body slumps forward and crashes with a thud.
“Holy shit,” his friend says, sounding petrified.
I move into his space, standing close enough that I can smell his horrid body odor.
“What was the plan here?” I ask, venom tinging every word.
“Alexa wanted to taunt you. The weapons were supposed to siphon Remnants.”
He shoots a quick glance down to my thigh where the smoldering burn has started to heal.
“You can’t possibly have enough troops to keep up this crusade,” I hiss. “There are more of us.”
He visibly shakes, cowering backwards, but legs bumping into the tables behind him.
“I just know we were given full immunity in rounding up every Remnant and sending them to RISE Containment,” his words are fast and panicked—like snitching on his comrades will save him.
“Where’s Darkrend in all of this?” I ask, and he flinches at the name.
“We don’t work for that monster,” he says, sounding legitimately sure of himself. “We answered to Damien Roberts.”
The before you killed him. Hangs between us.
“And now?” I ask, leering closer.
“Alexa Van Der Graf,” he says, looking a little more anxious now. Like sharing Alexa’s name was the thing that he wasn’t supposed to do.
“Interesting name,” I muse before the shadows wrap around his neck. “Thanks for the info.”
He gurgles for a few seconds before the sickly snap of his neck reverberates in the silent bar.
Alexa.
She’d looked familiar. Even before the briefest encounter we’d had at the Guild. She probably had been stalking me at the same time Cass was.
Except where she’d been looking for weaknesses, Cass had been protecting me from… well, me.
I turn to face the rest of the room—only to find that everyone is staring at me with various expressions of horror.
Except Azazel, who seems to be studying the corpses of the RISE agents.
“What?” I ask, looking between the two women and Kronos.
The girls look worse for wear.
Ana’s lip is split and her face sports bruises of multiple colors. Those assholes had been here long enough to beat her into different levels of black and blue.
Lucille looks more shell-shocked than beaten. Whatever Alexa had done to her was clearly more about why she was on her knees when we’d gotten here.
Kronos just looks… terrified?
“So, the rumors are true?” he asks, voice somewhat soft.
“Which rumors?” I ask but immediately realize—I’ve never used my powers around these people.
The Remnant community hates DAEMON and most of the news organizations they own, which includes NC Today. He gestures around at the carnage. From his perspective, I wandered in here trying to be a hero as a Tier 1 Remnant. A utilitarian.
And then I made a charcuterie board of over two dozen people.
“For the record,” I say to Lucille, “your powers never dampened mine.”
She nods a few times, face paling as the moments pass. “I figured. It didn’t do shit to Alexa whatever-her-fucking-name-is.”
“What’s going on Arya?” Kronos asks sounding more hopeless than I’ve ever known him to be. Not at all the wise, charismatic cult leader.
I let out a slow breath. “The very short version is that RISE is launching a full-on assault against the Remnants in New Chicago.”
Ana claps a hand to her mouth, eyes widening in horror. “Oh, God. Angie...”
“She’s fine,” Lucille says, putting a hand on Ana’s shoulder. “She’s deep enough in the ’burb that they shouldn’t have gotten to her yet.”
“Angie?” I ask, glancing between the two.
“My—” Ana lets out a huff. “My fiancée”
“I’ll send Azazel to go get her and bring her here. We want to set this up as the central base. How many people can it hold?”
Ana’s relieved expression is enough to warm my quickly frosting heart. It’s hard to ignore the spirits rising from the bodies around us. But I do my best to usher each into the next place—since that’s my job apparently.
They’re angry, but they’re not exactly vengeful.
At least I can find some comfort in that.
Even if it feels like a switch flipped after Cass’ brief spate with death, I know I need to harden to the violence.
Otherwise, I’ll be no use to Cass or the others.
Now isn’t the time to start developing mercy.
“Probably most of the Casket between this and the other building,” Kronos answers, sounding a little dazed. “What—”
“We’re going to move acolytes here in a few waves. It’s going to be a bit of a shock at first. Someone will need to do the explaining, but we can’t hold everyone in the Citadel. At least not yet.”
“Acolytes? Citadel?” Kronos’ jaw works a little as he stares between me and Azazel who has finally joined us.
“Bloody Mary’s abilities and our own forces might be able to manufacture homes in the next month, but we will need time,” Azazel says, turning to me. “What would you have me do?”
It feels weird to have the Azazel asking me for orders. Not only because of their legendary status, but not even a few weeks ago, they were a mentor. A damned good one, at that.
“Find Angie and then return here. Put Morgana and Bast in charge of finding leadership for the other tower and—” I turn to Kronos. “Can you take over this tower? I’ll need Azazel later.”
“Take over?” he asks softly.
“Kronos, we’re at war. And I think we’re going to be at war for some time. Darkrend and his people have control of everything. They have DAEMON. And DAEMON has New America. I need people I can trust.”
He stares at me for a few seconds before bursting into a fit of somewhat manic laughter. “Holy shit, Skovsgaard, when did you go from a mild mannered, depressed PI to a fucking battle general?”
“I’m still depressed,” I say, letting out a laugh. “I just have a purpose now.”
“Did you say something about Bloody Mary?” Lucille asks, her voice a little timid.
“I did,” I say, turning to her. “She’s the only one who can stand against Darkrend. You’ve been lied to your whole life about her. All of you have. She’s neither a monster nor a legend—though she is extraordinary.”
The other three stare at me for a long moment. Like I’d just sprouted horns and began bleating like a goat.
“Oh, shit,” Ana chirps, sounding delighted. “You’re in love with her.”
“Deeply,” I say, grinning a little at the thought. “Though that’s a relatively new development.”
“In love with Bloody fucking Mary,” Kronos mumbles, a sort of disbelieving note in his voice. “Of course.”
Ana laughs again and I feel a buzz against my thigh.
“Hold on,” I say, turning to Azazel. “Can you clean this up? I’m going to return to the Citadel.”
“The cage for the were—for the subject should open at your command. We will be fine here for some time. Bast reported that the other tower is secure. Morgana has just notified me that RISE is setting up operations near the border between us and New Chicago, but there have not yet been any further attacks.”
I nod before answering the phone.
“Arya, what is happening?” Cass’ voice sounds stronger and most definitely frustrated. Someone like her is bound to be incensed by the idea of being bedridden.
“Well, we’ve secured the mega-buildings in the Casket. We’re going to staff them with acolytes and other Remnants who can keep the people safe while you and I see to figuring out what’s actually going on.”
Cass lets out a low breath. “What happened?”
I chew on my bottom lip before deciding honesty would be the best policy. “We made it in time to find RISE rolling up in force. One thing led to another, and we’ve definitely started a skirmish—if not a war.”
She’s silent for a moment before she responds in a near whisper.
“Why has Darkrend just not ended us?”
I falter in step as I reach the door to the bar.
“I—” I let out a breath. “I don’t know. He’s clearly working towards something. He didn’t want me dead. At least not yet. We’re missing something.”
“Very well,” Cass sounds exhausted. “I will await your message.”
I hang up and give Azazel quick thumbs up before falling into the shadows.
The Cradle reappears around me, and I look up to see the still-suspended werewolf. He startles at my reappearance, standing to glare down at me.
“What kind of sick fuck leaves me up here?” his growl is downright animal—which makes sense, I guess.
“I could ask you the same,” I retort and, before I can even prepare for it, the cage dissolves.
He lets out a shriek that sounds much more human before I lasso a shadow around his thicker leg.
The werewolf lands roughly on the stone floor. His body is entirely fur, but like the other werewolves, he’s biped. It’s like a huge dire wolf just decided to stand up and develop opposable thumbs.
“It’s funny,” I say, wrapping him tightly in thick tendrils of shadow, “you’re about to be vital in saving us from Darkrend—and you’re not even remotely worthy of it.”
He lets out a grunt of protest, but the band around his snout holds firm.
I pull out my phone and tap Cass’ contact—still the only one on the list.
Portal at the Cradle, please :)
She doesn’t respond, but a red square materializes a few feet from us.
“Here we go,” I murmur, and wrap the werewolf in another band of shadows, drifting us both through the open portal.