Chapter 13
What the hell had she been thinking?
Cyan peered down through the tiny hatchway of the submersible that was supposed to take her to the enchanted glyphs that needed to be repaired. The pilot, a friendly blond human from Norway, had already squeezed into the underwater deathtrap.
Stryke laid his hand on her forearm, halting her as she zipped up the jacket Twila had loaned her for the icy temperatures in the vehicle. “You don’t have to do this.”
She appreciated his concern, although it was easy to say she didn’t have to risk her life when the truth was that it was their only option.
“You know I do.”
He heaved a heavy breath. “Just remember to control your fear. Don’t let it affect your judgment or performance.”
Right. He made it sound so easy. “I’m not afraid,” she informed him, although there was a bit of terror running through her. “I’m claustrophobic. And also, I work best under pressure. So, bite me.”
No doubt her irritability went far in proving how well she did under pressure.
The dudes standing around to help looked at each other, expressions ranging from shock to curiosity. Obviously, they couldn’t believe someone was talking to their boss that way.
Well, she didn’t give a shit. He wasn’t her boss. She could speak to him any way she wanted to.
“Just be careful,” he said. “Kynan will be pissed if I get his head researcher killed.”
“I’m sure Kynan’s wrath terrifies you.”
Not waiting for a response, she lowered herself down the ladder and into the submersible. She took deep, calming breaths and concentrated on the buttons and gauges inside the vehicle instead of on how tight it was in there and how she was going to lose her mind in the tiny thing.
She focused on breathing as the pilot prepared for submersion, constantly speaking back and forth to the team on the rig. She nearly jumped out of her skin when the hatch closed.
She was locked inside, unable to get out, unable to escape. Anything could go wrong, and she’d die in the dark, wet, cold sea.
Oh, gods, this was a mistake.
“Hey.” Oskar, the pilot, gave her a look of sympathy. “Take a seat and buckle in. Close your eyes and play a song inside your head. Or recite a poem. Just keep your mind busy for a few minutes. We’ll be down there and back up before you know it.”
“Okay.” She nodded. “Okay.”
I can do this .
Calmly—at least on the outside—she sat in a very uncomfortable jump seat and strapped herself in. Then she threw her head back and summoned a song. Well, she tried to summon a song. Shivers , an Ed Sheeran classic. She’d just seen a video of him in concert. He was in his sixties now, but man, he could still sing.
But for some reason, her mind kept taking her back to a song she’d heard playing at Runa’s party. A dark, moody piece from a recent movie’s soundtrack, had rolled through the room like a riptide.
She’s a beautiful heathen, a righteous bitch, and she’ll take your soul into the darkness…
A clank startled her, then a jolt, and Oskar glanced over at her with a reassuring smile.
“All normal. We’re starting our descent now.”
“How are you two doing?” Stryke’s deep voice came over the speaker, and something fluttered in her stomach. He’d asked her that during sex, and now her mind wanted to play that scene over and over.
“How are you doing?” he rasped. “You okay?”
“Yes,” she breathed. “Hurry.”
She couldn’t stand the guy, but her hormones sure hadn’t gotten the message.
“All’s good,” the pilot said. “I’ll shift the camera so you can see us both.”
She nearly groaned. It was bad enough that Stryke was watching any of it. He didn’t need to see her struggling to prevent a panic attack. He didn’t need to see how she’d just nearly jumped out of her skin when the submarine creaked.
“Hey, Cyan. See this?” Oskar pointed to a number readout on the dashboard of gadgets. “That’s our depth. Focus on that.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she whispered as fresh stirrings of anxiety gripped her by the throat. “I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all—”
“Cyan?” Stryke’s voice, a calm, resonant purr, instantly captured her focus. “Listen to me. Concentrate on my voice. Tell me something about yourself. Something I don’t know.”
She knew this trick. She’d seen her psychologist mother use it all the time. “How about you tell me something? Make me more interested in you than I am in how small this damned thing is.”
“What do you want to know?”
I want to know why you freaked out during sex and ran away . Also, why is your voice so deep and sexy ? “I think you can guess.”
“Come up with something else.”
Yeah, probably not cool to make him discuss something so intimate in front of however many people were listening. Closing her eyes, she did her best to ignore the fact that they were plummeting deep into the sea, and if this thing sprung a leak…
“What’s between you and Blade?” she asked.
“Next question.”
“Why are you such an asshole?”
Oskar nearly choked on his own saliva.
“Ah, an oldie but a goodie,” Stryke mused. “There are many theories. None of which I care to share right now.”
“Well, we have a problem then because there’s nothing else about you I want to know.”
“I see.” She thought she heard a note of amusement in his voice. Great. She hoped he was enjoying this because she’d rather be fighting her way through Sheoul’s Horun region with nothing but a pair of nail clippers than be sealed inside this metal coffin. “Why don’t you tell me about your childhood then?”
Her childhood? Why did he care? Then she realized he didn’t give a crap. He was just trying to keep her from trying to claw her way out of the sub.
What the hell? She inhaled deeply, closed her eyes, and thought about growing up in the Los Angeles suburbs.
“My dad worked for a tech company based in LA, and my mom was a psychologist. I went to school at Hellmouth Academy because my parents didn’t want me to have to wear contact lenses or a glamour to fit in with human kids.”
She had worn contacts anyway when she went out in public or hung out with her human friends, but at least she didn’t have to wear them all the time. She could get away with sunglasses most of the time now.
“When were you at the academy?”
She was pretty sure he already knew the answer to that question. “Same time you were. We’re the same age.”
He laughed. “We’re the same age, but I graduated six years earlier than you did.”
“I know. You were twelve when you graduated, and then you attended college virtually.”
“I see you did your research.”
Obviously, he had done his as well. “You can find that factoid in every interview you’ve ever given. Plus, it’s on the StryTech website.” She knew because she’d read or seen every interview, and she had the StryTech website memorized. But not in a creepy way. Really. “Your parents didn’t want you in college until you were old enough not to draw attention.”
“A twelve-year-old kid in advanced physics classes would have drawn attention we didn’t want.”
“That didn’t turn out well, did it? You’re the most well-known demon in the world.”
There was a moment of silence. “Things don’t always turn out the way we plan, do they?” She got the feeling his question was posed more to himself than to her. “So,” he continued, “what made you want to become a technomancer?”
The sub was deep. Was it supposed to be this deep? Oskar seemed unfazed, making her feel a little better. “It’s what my species does.”
“Not all of you have the gift of being able to manipulate technology.”
“Only about half of us,” she acknowledged. “My mom couldn’t. It’s why she went into psychology.” The craft shuddered, and she took a moment to catch her breath. “My dad almost didn’t take her as a mate because of it. He wanted to make sure his offspring would be blessed with the gift .”
There was another pause. Then Stryke’s voice, laced with curiosity, crackled over the increasingly sketchy connection. “I find it interesting that your species went from being one of the most reviled to one of the most celebrated in the matter of a century.”
Reviled was one word for it. As demons with no unique powers, her kind had learned to avoid Sheoul, where they were tortured and often eaten simply because they were weak compared to most demons.
“That’s why so many of our holidays center around the discovery of electricity and the industrial revolution.”
The miracle of technology had changed their lives. Even the weakest Cyberis technomancers were now in high demand in the demon realm. They had status, power, and seats in the Maleconcieo, basically the Sheoulic version of the human realm’s United Nations. No one fucked with them anymore, and if they did, they’d better not be wearing—or be near—any kind of advanced technology.
Their power was also what made them feared and heavily regulated in the human realm.
“Where are your parents now?” he asked.
“You did research,” she said. “You tell me.”
“Your father suffered an accident on the job,” he said. “Your mother died six months later, a result of your species being lethally affected by a broken mate bond.”
“She didn’t just die ,” she said bitterly. “She gave up.” Yes, it was rare to survive a broken bond, but it happened. “And my father was killed by a faulty StryTech product.”
There was silence. Even Oskar’s soft breathing stopped.
“I’m sorry,” Stryke said. There was more silence, and then, “I hate water.”
“What?” She scowled at the speaker. “Did you say you hate water?”
“You asked me to tell you something about myself that you didn’t know.” There was a little static, and the craft bounced, but she barely noticed. She was too curious about where this was going. He might be trying to change the subject, but she got the feeling it was more than that. He was giving her a private, personal piece of his life, revealing a vulnerability, something she doubted he ever did. “Water feels weird on my skin.”
That explained the invisible umbrella he was working on. “But you have a pool and a hot tub.”
“They’re for Masumi. I don’t go in either.”
If she had a pool and hot tub, she’d be in them every day. “How do you deal with showers?”
“They’re tolerable, but I don’t linger.”
She could picture him in the shower, soaping up, scrubbing his chest as bubbles ran down his hard-cut abs and then lower to his—
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Oskar said, “but we’re getting close to the nano injector. Keep an eye on the monitor.”
Glad to have something more to do than fantasize about Stryke in the shower, she leaned forward in her seat, so close to Oskar she could smell his musky aftershave.
Stryke smelled better. Like dark chocolate and the smoky diablo peppers that grew in the blood-fed fields along the shores of Sheoul’s River Scaldera. Her mom had brought some home once, and Cyan had never forgotten the spicy tingle in her nose. Stryke’s scent caused a spicy tingle everywhere . Not that she should be thinking about what he smelled like or where he made her tingle right now.
Returning her attention to the monitor, she watched the craft’s powerful light sweep along a massive drill casing. Oskar kept the craft steady, flipping switches, pressing buttons, and steering with practiced hands.
“You got to hear all about me and Stryke,” she said to him. “What’s your story?”
“Don’t got one,” he said, shooting her a sideways glance. “I’m human, but I work for anyone who pays me, and Stryke pays well.”
“I do,” Stryke interjected. “I’m willing to pay for quality. I want the best people in every field.”
“And you always get them, don’t you?” she said.
“No,” Stryke replied, surprising her. “Not always. Some people won’t work for a demon no matter the pay.”
“And what? Your sparkling wit and charm don’t win them over?”
He laughed. “That,” he said, “has never happened. I have neither sparkles nor charm.”
“Tell me about it,” she muttered, and Oskar snickered. “There!” She pointed at the screen. “I see some glyphs.”
Oskar shifted a lever, and the pod came to a gently rocking standstill. “I got a temperature spike,” he said calmly into the microphone, clearly not speaking to her. “Are you reading—?”
“We’re reading it,” Stryke answered.
“A five-degree spike isn’t unusual,” Taran said. “But we’re seeing spikes of twenty degrees a half mile to the south.”
Cyan tuned out the chatter, trusting that Taran and Stryke knew what the data meant. Her job was to analyze the fractured spell and repair it.
She reached deep into the center of herself, into what her people with the gift called her quanimas , the part of the soul that could connect with the energy around it, including that from other dimensions. According to her people, everyone, including humans and animals, possessed a quanimas , but not everyone could access it. And yet, it was the access point for all magical and supernatural abilities, an organ unseen but capable of great power. Like the heart, except that it circulated spiritual energy instead of blood.
Warmth pumped through her body as her mind grabbed the glyphs and replaced them with a new weave, one that would spread a protective web extending from the man-made components of the rig across the floor of the ocean. The web, if woven correctly through the nanotechnology, would act as a butterfly bandage across the widening fissure through which Sheoul’s realm was leaking.
One of the glyphs, frayed at the edges, got a quick patch job. But another, a broken link, was nothing but shreds. She replaced it, but she didn’t spend extra time smoothing the edges. The tech who had placed the weave before her had been good at his craft, every element of the spell precise and clear.
She was a little messier, preferring to get the rough draft done before going back to strengthen and polish it.
Power flowed through her hands and fingers as she used them to shape and form glyphs while trying to ignore the occasional bumps of ocean currents against the craft.
Then the submersible rocked hard, nearly knocking her against the wall. “Hey, do you mind—?”
“More heat blooms to the south.” Taran’s voice stuttered over the connection. “I think you guys should hurry.”
“This isn’t something that can be rushed,” she said irritably. She might be efficient under stress, but she was also grumpy as hell. “Your other guy might have been able to—”
The sub rocked hard, tossing her and Oskar around in their seats, held in only by the harnesses.
“Shit.” Oskar flipped switches and cranked levers as an alarm screeched.
“What’s going on?” she asked as she threw a glyph into the weave. Just a few more…
“Get out of there!” Stryke shouted, and her heart leaped into her throat. Stryke was not one to panic. “Hurry! Go !”
“Massive heat signature moving toward you,” Taran barked. “Oh, man, it’s big. Get up here. Get up here now!”
“Emergency ascend,” Oskar said calmly, and she had to give him credit. She wasn’t even sure she could speak right now, let alone speak in a soothing monotone. “Buckle in.”
She was already buckled, so she held tight as the craft shot upward, its light shining on the rig’s structure as they passed joints and bolts and other things she couldn’t identify.
“There’s another one,” Taran barked. “Multiple heat signatures moving this way.”
“How long?”
“You got about sixty seconds,” Stryke said.
She glanced at the pilot, and her heart sank. The look on his face said they wouldn’t make it.
“I’m guessing this thing isn’t armed?”
He snorted.
Okay, so it didn’t have weapons. But…the submersible was a giant piece of machinery with advanced technology. As long as she was on board, it could be armed, especially with the improvements she and Stryke had made to the skin of the craft.
Quickly, she formed the first defensive spell weave she’d learned and injected it into every bit of onboard electronics.
“What are you doing?” Taran asked.
Suddenly, the sub swung sideways and forward, crashing against a platform beam. The metal groaned and creaked, and then, through the metal walls, something screamed.
“Yes!” Stryke breathed. “Cyan, what did you do?”
“I sent a bolt of lightning through the water. We might only get one more charge out of it before it drains the sub’s power, though.”
“It’s coming back—”
She looked at the camera just in time to see a massive set of teeth and long, creepy claws flashing in front of the screen before everything went dark, and they were tumbling through the blackness. The sound of rending, twisting metal, and furious shrieks blew through her ears until the pain became overwhelming.
And then there was no sound at all.
“Reel it in!” Stryke shouted at the top of his lungs as he raced from the FOC to the sub’s launch and recovery platform. “Reel the fucking thing in!”
The crew was already on it, and he knew that. But panic had destroyed his logical thoughts. All he could do was act on instinct and fear—something he hadn’t done since…
Fuck.
He charged down the metal steps two at a time, clearing three levels in mere seconds. He hit the platform at full speed, skidding across the wet surface until he managed to grab a railing.
Three technicians scrambled to bring the submersible the rest of the way to the surface, one watching the water, one operating the lift, and the other standing guard with a flamethrower. Above them on the two upper levels, several members of the security detail manned outposts, their various weapons aimed at the churning waters below.
Stryke’s pulse pounded in his ears, and his heart hammered in his chest as the top of the little craft breached the surface. Blackened, twisted claw marks and mangled tooth punctures scored the sub’s thick skin, and Stryke held his breath as the crew stabilized the craft and popped the hatch.
“Help me!” Oskar held Cyan in his arms, her unconscious body slumped against his chest.
Stryke’s heart plummeted to his feet. He sprang into action, working with the crane operator to haul her limp body through the narrow hatch. Her face dripped blood from a gash in her temple, her head hanging loosely from her shoulders. Oskar pushed from below, but the craft suddenly wrenched hard. The crane operator lost his grip as Oskar lost his footing, and Cyan nearly dropped all the way back into the pod. Only Stryke’s hold on her wrist kept her from hitting the deck.
The high-pitched whirr of arrows and other projectiles filled the air, joining the hellish roars of the creatures under the waves. A massive claw punched out of the water and caught the crane operator. The male didn’t even have time to scream before he suffered a sudden catastrophic decapitation event .
Shit.
Stryke hauled Cyan up, her body slamming against the sides of the hatch as the craft bucked and rocked. She groaned, her eyes opening, flaring in groggy recognition. She seemed to understand the urgency and swung her empty hand upward to grip his arm.
A demon, black as night with glowing yellow eyes, its slick skin rippling and steaming in the cold air, flung itself out of the water and wrapped around the pod. Stryke leaped backward, taking Cyan with him. They landed in a pile as the demon attacked the pod’s hoist with its teeth and webbed claws. Oskar tried to escape, the terror on his face stark and gut-wrenching as he desperately tried to claw his way out of the craft before the hoist failed.
In a groan of metal, the hoist collapsed and fell into the sea, taking the pod, the demon, and Oskar with it.
“ No !”
Blood bubbled up, joining the crane operator’s as it dripped over the side of the dock.
As the seas churned and arrows and crossbow bolts flew, Stryke gathered Cyan in his arms and charged up the stairs. Below, the demons screamed as they attacked the platform. It appeared they couldn’t leave the water. The ones who breached the surface only did so for a moment, their skin steaming.
Consoled by that one small blessing, Stryke hurried to the med shack, a double-wide shipping container outfitted for basic medical care.
He shouldered open the door. “I need some help!”
Nothing. Of course. The doctor who had been stationed here had been killed. In his panic, he’d completely forgotten.
“Hold on, Cyan.”
“I’m okay,” she slurred. “Okay.”
“No, you’re not.” He placed her on the patient bed, and when she tried to sit up, he gently palmed her shoulder and pushed her back down.
“Oskar…” She wiped blood out of her eye. “Where is he?”
“He didn’t make it.” Stryke charged his gift and sent it into her. He couldn’t heal like Blade or his uncle Eidolon, but he could speed up her body’s natural abilities to make blood and stop bleeding. He also tweaked her system to control her pain, and with a sigh, she closed her eyes and lay back.
The door burst open, and Taran stood there, his face smeared with blood, one sleeve shredded by what must have been claws.
“Demons are scaling the supports. Hundreds of them. So far, they haven’t made it to the platform, but if they do, we’re not going to be able to take them all out. We’re outnumbered.”
That left only one option. “Then we evacuate.”
Taran shook his head. “Our escape pods are no match for those things.”
“We die if we stay here. If we can put down all the pods, maybe one of them has a chance of making it to safety.” He jerked his head toward the door. “At least prep for evacuation.”
“Yes, sir.” Taran took off.
“We’re not going to get to safety on the lifeboats,” she mumbled, sounding groggy. “You know that.”
“And we’re not safe here for much longer.”
“Come on, genius,” she said, her voice sounding stronger as he worked his healing magic. “Surely, you can come up with something. Something you missed. You developed the communications system. Maybe you can refigure it to use evil energy as a patch through the fog.”
“It doesn’t work that way. The fog is more than energy. It’s biological. Alive. Anything that can penetrate it would have to be…” He trailed off as a thought occurred to him. What was the date?
What was the fucking date ? He’d have checked his comms but it had been destroyed along with the submersible, and his spare was in his quarters. Quickly and frantically, he darted around the room, searching for a calendar.
She sat up. “What? What is it?”
“The date,” he said hastily. “What’s the date?”
“Ah…the fifteenth.”
The fifteenth…okay, so the moon phase was…?
“The moon phase?” she asked.
Had he spoken out loud? Didn’t matter. He did about a million calculations in his head, and…holy shit.
No. It was impossible. He couldn’t be this lucky.
“Stryke?”
He wheeled away from her, his mind reeling. Could he? Should he? How would his brothers react? Strike that. Brother. If he did this, he wouldn’t involve Crux or Rade.
He needed Blade.
Would Blade even want to help?
“Dammit, Stryke, what is it?”
He turned to her. “Did you know that Seminus demons are connected to their brothers? We can feel each other’s intense pain. We know when they die.”
“That…must be incredible.”
“Incredible?” He gaped at her. “Incredible to feel your sibling die? Incredible is not the word I would use. Agonizing. Traumatic. Fucking abominable. Those are the words I would use.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” she said. “But to have such a deep connection to someone you love seems…special.”
She knew nothing.
Nothing .
“The price is too high for connections like that,” he said dismissively, his thoughts already jumping ahead. “But I also carry my mother’s genetic werewolf material. As do my brothers. On nights of the full moon, we can communicate with each other. At least, some of us can.”
“Some of us?”
“I had the links—all the links—between my brothers and me severed.”
She blinked. “But…why?”
“Doesn’t matter.” It was a long story, and he didn’t owe anyone the reason behind it. “What matters is that it’s a full moon. If I can restore the werewolf link, I can get help.”
She jackknifed up so fast he thought she might fall off the med bed. “You can do that?”
“No, but you can.” He brushed his fingertips across the tiny NeuroTech implant in his temple, the comms chip nearly everyone in the world had implanted to use modern-day communication technology.
Technology designed by StryTech but manufactured by humans to ease fears of “ demonic devices. ” Those who didn’t get the implant could wear an external device behind their ear, but at the price of some functionality.
Frowning, she peered at his temple. “A technomancer did it. I can see the spell now that I’m looking for it.”
“Rewire it so I can get in touch with Blade.”
“Just Blade?”
He nodded. Opening a line to Crux would only fill the kid full of hope, and Rade probably wouldn’t give a shit. Plus, Blade, as a member of DART’s special operations team, was in a position to get them help.
“Are you ready?” she asked, and he nodded again.
“Just be prepared to sever the connection when I tell you to.”
She appeared taken aback. “You want to shut it down?”
“I’ll have you reconnect it if I need it. In the meantime, can you do something to help keep the demons off the rig?”
“I don’t know what. I can’t do a general repellent spell because a lot of us working here are demons.”
He thought about that. “The fog…it’s malevolent. It’s what allows the things in the water to exist out of it, even if only for a little while.”
She sucked in a harsh breath, understanding now where he was going with this. “If I can repel the fog—”
“It might leave just enough space between the rig and the mist to limit the creatures that can attempt to get on the platform.”
She nodded. “I’ll head over to the engine room right away.”