Aftermath Read online

  “Pass,” I said quickly. “I’ve never gone there to see him, even though the food is amazing. Ezra creeps me out.”

  “Ezra creeps everyone out, but in that iteration he’s also a scholar. If you need answers about that”—she pointed at the symbol on my arm—“ or the Mourn, he probably has them.”

  “No, thanks—that’s what I have a trainer for, isn’t it?”

  “This is true,” Kate answered with a tight smile. “But my methods may be more on the physical side.”

  “I noticed you stopped at Brunts,” I said, looking at the center of the floor. “No Siphons?”

  Siphons and Siphon Lords were the most lethal of the Mourn. Intelligent, capable of speech, strategy, and planning. Running into them would mean certain death for most magic-users or energy manipulators.

  They were no walk in the park for Protectors either, but we stood more of a chance against them. The theory behind Siphons was that they were what happened to mages who’d lost themselves to dark magic.

  “All Mourn are siphons—you know that.”

  That was the deadly nature of the Mourn. Even as they attacked, they absorbed ambient runic energy, getting stronger with each passing second. A long protracted fight usually meant death—Protector or not.

  “You know what I mean. Why don’t you simulate a Siphon or Gremmel?”

  “You’re not ready to face anything near Gremmel or a Siphon,” Kate said. “Did that Brunt hit you in the head?”

  “This is supposed to be training—”

  “You were manhandled by a handful of Mournhounds, a Seeker and I repeat, one Brunt. Gremmel is a Siphon Lord, second only to Desper. Even she has a healthy respect and fear of him. Are you looking to die?”

  “I was just saying you could simulate—”

  “Out of the question. No. You’re not ready for Siphons.”

  “Is it true? About the blood magic?”

  “Yes. They will kill you. Siphons can use magic in a horde of Mourn by sacrificing them and using their life-essence. You can’t face that—not yet.”

  “What if they don’t give me a choice?”

  “Excuse me?” Kate asked, clearly upset. “You’re barely a blip on their radar. How long have you been a Protector?”

  “I’ve been a—”

  “Not long enough,” she cut me off. “Siphons are past your threat level, which is negligible at this point.”

  “Has that ever changed?” I asked. “Have they ever just wanted to take over an Oracle without caring who was doing the protecting?”

  “There are…failsafes. Runes and wards that will drop as you get stronger. Right now, you should only face Mournhounds and the odd Seeker, maybe a Brunt or two.”

  “No Siphons?”

  “None. At all.”

  “What happens if I meet one while protecting a nexus point? What am I supposed to do? Give it dirty looks and speak menacingly? What if it’s Gremmel?”

  “You won’t meet Gremmel until you become a serious threat, which you aren’t,” Kate said, fixing me with a stare. “But if you do run into him— or any Siphon, you throw that hammer and get your team safe. You can’t face him, not yet. Hopefully, not ever.”

  “Keep the nexus points safe, but don’t fight the leader of the Mourn? How am I supposed to do that?”

  “There are Protectors that live out their entire lives without facing Siphons, much less a Siphon Lord. It’s all Mournhounds, Seekers, and Brunts. I never heard them complain about the lack of even more deadly enemies.”

  “Somehow, I don’t think that will be the DAMNED. It’s just not the way my life has worked out so far. If Gremmel shows his face, I’d rather be prepared to face the leader of the Mourn, instead of surprised. Even if it’s only for a few moments before he blasts me out of existence.”

  “Desper, not Gremmel, is their leader, and don’t be dense. You do your job as a Protector by keeping the points intact—they keep the Mourn out, not you. If they fall, this city falls. The Mourn can’t handle the pure energy of a nexus point—you know this.”

  “I remember,” I said. “They would need to assault the Oracle. Then a Siphon breaches the defenses, reshaping the energy inside the nexus point so they can absorb it.”

  “Exactly,” Kate said, nodding. “It’s harder than it sounds, and if it ever comes to that, those are your windows of opportunity. You catch the Siphon during the breach or while it’s taking energy.”

  “What happens if it gets the energy? What happens if we don’t stop it?”

  “That would only be the beginning.”

  “The beginning?”

  “The beginning of the end.”

  “These can’t be the only nexus points and we can’t be the only DAMNED.”

  “Maybe that Brunt did clip you?” Kate said, concerned. “Of course these aren’t the only nexus points and you and your team aren’t the only nulls in existence.”

  “I was wondering—”

  “Did you think you were some special snowflake? There are nexus points all over the world with Protectors tasked to keep them intact.”

  The surprise must have shown on my face.

  “I didn’t realize—”

  “Which is why I’m here,” she said, pointing a finger at my chest as she stepped close. “You don’t know what you don’t know. The smartest thing you did was arming yourself with that hammer. It was also the worst thing.”

  “The worst? I don’t follow. What do you mean the—?”

  “You…face…Mourn,” Kate said. “Beings that feed off of runic energy. What the hell is that hammer? It’s practically a runic battery. Why not paint a huge target on your back? You pissed off a few people with that move.”

  I looked down at Kirves and hefted it in my hand before absorbing it.

  “It helps me fight the Mourn, and I’m not losing any more of my team.”

  “If they get ahold of you and that hammer—”

  “It only works for me now,” I said. “They’re going to have to kill me first.”

  “That’s kind of the point. They want you dead, Protector. If you fall, it weakens your team. If your team is weak, the points are vulnerable. If they are vulnerable, the Mourn will take them. Everything is connected.”

  “My hammer stops them, and once I learn how to transform it, I can—”

  “That hammer links you to a god of thunder,” Kate replied with a sigh. “That will work against you in the future.”

  “If this weapon means I keep my team alive, it’s worth it.”

  Kate’s expression grew somber—more somber than her usual scowl of seriousness.

  “Death is part of what you do. You’re a Protector. You can’t get attached to them—or anyone.”

  “These are my friends.”

  “If the nexus points fall, it will start a cascade effect. Think of these points as the first line of defense in a global sequence.”

  “I’m not losing my team.”

  “Your first and only responsibility is to the nexus. Even if that means losing your team, your friends…or your life. Remember that.”

  “You never let me forget it.”

  “It’s my job. Now focus. You were all over the place in training today. What happened at Gracie Mansion isn’t your problem, Protector.”

  “Yoté and part of my team are out there,” I said. “Something like that concerns me.”

  “Your job is to get stronger, smarter, and increase your sensitivity to incursions at the points. You don’t need to focus on those three.”

  “Three?” I asked, surprised. “You knew about Montague & Strong?”

  She gave me a ‘you can’t be this dense’ look.

  “Of course. They’ve been close to compromising points in the past. I was about to erase the irritating one, but he’s bonded to a hellhound. Figured he can’t be a complete ass if a hellhound chose him.”

  “Good point,” I said “Hellhounds are excellent judges of character.”

  “Plus, he’s
immortal,” Kate added, “and works with a mage who has some skill. Would take too much work to eliminate them. To make matters worse, if I did manage to take them out, I’d have to deal with an unbound hellhound inside the city. Those things are basically indestructible in that state, and frankly”—she gave me a glare—“I’m busy training a novice Protector.”

  “Who are you again?” I asked, amazed at the depth of her knowledge.

  “The one tasked with making sure you can do your job, Protector…and stand on your own. I can’t train you forever. Now, form your oversized paperweight and let’s begin.”

  I slid into a fighting stance when the symbol on my arm shone with golden light.

  “Where?” Kate asked, looking at my arm. “Must be close.”

  “NP-2, a rift is opening in proximity to the Oracle.”

  “How far away is your team?”

  “Yoté is uptown, but Dak is close,” I said, grabbing my radio as the emergency tone went off. “Dak?”

  “You see it?” Dak asked, his voice coming across the speaker. “It looks big on the equipment.”

  “Not yet, but I can feel it.”

  “Yeah, it’s a big one. What’s your ETA? I’m five minutes out. I’ll bring the RAC.”

  “I’m on my way. Tell Yoté to wrap up Gracie Mansion and get his ass downtown. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  I hung up and headed for the stairs.

  “Try not to die,” Kate said. “I’d hate to have to start this training all over again.”

  “I didn’t know you cared.”

  “I don’t, but if you die it would interfere with my schedule,” she said with a wave of her hand. “Get going and keep your wits about you.”

  SIX

  I jumped into Widow and started the engine.

  She roared before settling into a rumbling purr that vibrated the entire car. Widow was a SuNaTran gift from Cecil—a token of thanks for my stopping a Mourn horde attacking one of his shops. Widow was one of a kind.

  I remembered Cecil’s words: A null car for a null bear, now I’ve seen everything. The runic configuration in and around her chassis would short-circuit anyone but a null who tried to drive her. Not even Yoté or Dak would attempt it. She was a custom-made instrument of destruction—like her owner.

  I patted the dashboard, stepped on the gas and sped uptown. The Mourn rarely attacked during the day. It was still technically night. The sun wouldn’t be up for a few hours, which meant this rift wasn’t out of the ordinary.

  The symbol on my arm pulsed. Kate explained that as my sensitivity increased, I’d be able to locate the opening of the rifts with more accuracy. As it stood, I had to find them by getting to the closest Oracle in danger and play a game of hotter or colder. It was either that, or listen for the howls of Mournhounds.

  As I approached NP-2, the howls were louder than usual. Not a good sign.

  “Shit,” I muttered under my breath. “That can’t be good.”

  Mourn rifts were detectable by the energy they absorbed. Most of them were small to average-sized portals. The rift I was sensing was more on the extra-large size, sitting directly across from the Oracle and nexus point.

  On my mental map, NP-2 was located behind Trinity Church, sandwiched between Thames and Rector Streets. DAMNED HQ was only a few blocks away. I parked the Widow a block away on Greenwich Street, just in case Brunts were in the area and were looking for something to smash.

  Badak, my assistant Director and secondary Protector, turned when he heard me coming. He was several inches taller than me and about twice my width. He wore his usual black T-shirt, and flak jacket ensemble. On his back, he carried a monstrosity of a rifle that weighed probably as much as his truck. Dubbed Bessie the Brunt Killer, it fired banned entropy rounds that punched holes in Brunts and pretty much everything else.

  The street lights glistened off Dak’s bald head as he surveyed the area. Dak was the only Wererhino I knew. The fact that he was a null made him even rarer. Despite the danger and risk we faced constantly, he never seemed to lose his sense of wit—as annoying as it could be.

  The streets were empty as Dak retrieved some equipment from the back of his truck. He and Coyoté, Yoté for short, drove black, SuNaTran enhanced, 6x6 Black Mamba Land Rover Defenders. They were specially outfitted for Mourn containment, runed to the max, and slightly less indestructible than the Widow.

  In the back of his truck, I could see the rest of the rift-neutralizing equipment. Being nulls, we didn’t manipulate runic energy in the conventional sense. What we lacked in ability, we made up for with tech and artifacts.

  “Keep your eyes open,” he said, his gravelly voice reverberating in the night. “Mounds are on the prowl.”

  “Mournhounds, Dak, not Mounds.”

  “Mounds is less of a mouthful, besides you know what I’m talking about,” he answered, removing more equipment. “Maybe you’ve seen them? Creepy dog-like, alien-looking buggers that want to chew on us? Mounds.”

  “Where’s Yoté?” I asked, looking around. “Is he still uptown?”

  “You know him,” Dak answered, waving my words away as he placed equipment on the ground. “He’s doing his runic CSI thing, saying the explosion has far-reaching ramifications for the balance of the nexus points and the stability of energy within the city, and then he got really complicated, so I turned him off. Said he’s on his way as soon as he’s done.”

  “Does he have his radio on?” I asked. Yoté was known for going radio-silent when investigating a scene. “He better have it on.”

  “Says it breaks his flow of thought.”

  “If he doesn’t show up soon, he’s going to get something broken all right.”

  “I’ll get started on the RAC-U while he finds his way to us.”

  “He needs to get down here,” I said as the howls increased in volume. “He’s the fastest at this.”

  “It’s that Reed Richards brain of his,” Dak said, putting the components together. “He tried explaining to me how the RAC unit worked. That didn’t go well.”

  “Rift Assembly Containment units are complicated,” I answered, as howls filled the night. “Even I don’t get all of it—just that it works, and closes the rifts.”

  “They seem agitated about something,” Dak said still focused on the equipment. “Maybe we call backup?”

  “If Yoté was here, we wouldn’t need to call backup,” I said. “I hear the Mournhounds, but they aren’t getting closer. I don’t like it.”

  “You want them to get closer?”

  “I want them to stay wherever the hell they come from,” I snapped. “Sorry, it’s just not like them to stay away from a nexus point like this.”

  “I know,” Dak answered. “Let’s just get this done.”

  “I’ll send Yoté a signal,” I said, pressing the button on my shoulder radio, sending Yoté an emergency tone. He had the tendency to get caught up in the minutia of an investigation to the exclusion of everything else. “Did you see any Seekers?”

  Dak shook his head. “So far just Mounds, but with a rift this size, I’m surprised Brunts aren’t busy trying to stomp on us.”

  “Give them time,” I said, looking up the empty street. “This rift just formed.”

  I looked back at the rift that had formed in the middle of Trinity Place. Rifts formed in proximity to the Oracles where the space between planes was thin. Our job as Protectors was to close them as soon as possible, before the Mourn, or worse, stepped through.

  Most of the time, we dealt with Mournhounds. Kate had told me we were lucky the Mourn were unusually inactive. The strangled howls in the night didn’t give me the impression of inactivity.

  Dak grabbed the last of the equipment and approached the rift. Unlike most portals I had seen or used in the past, Mourn rifts weren’t any specific color—just tears in the fabric of the plane. It made them easy to miss if you didn’t know what to look for.

  Rifts were the absence of color, reminding me of blackholes, if
blackholes were portals for angry, runic-siphoning creatures intent on destroying everyone and everything in their path.

  “Can you pass me that disruptor?” Dak asked, pointing to a piece of equipment. “Slide it over here if it’s too heavy. I know you bears are a delicate bunch.”

  “Bears are much stronger than mutant unicorns,” I said, picking up the piece in question easily, and handing it to him as the ground trembled. “Did you feel that?”

  Dak glanced up for a brief second and began moving faster. The symbol on his arm, a silver design identical to my own, pulsed faster. Where mine glowed golden, his and Yoté’s gave off muted silver light.

  “Shit, that felt like at least one, no, two Brunts,” he said, assembling the RAC unit. “Which means a ton of Mounds. You better get that hammer ready. This party is about to start.”

  “Take perimeter on the Oracle. Yoté will be here soon.” I materialized Kirves. “In the meantime, I guess I should go say hello.”

  Dak unslung Bessie from his back.

  “Would be rude not to,” he said, looking up the street. “Go. I’ll hold them back.”

  “You’d better, or I swear I’ll find all the other mutant unicorns and tell them about you.”

  “There are no other mutant unicorns,” Dak shot back with a grin. “They broke the mold after they made me.”

  “Because they realized what a mistake it was,” I said and then grew serious. “I won’t let them get past me.”

  “First to strike,” he said, prepping Bessie with a nod.

  “Last to fall,” I answered, running down the empty street.

  SEVEN

  The street remained empty for exactly five seconds, before I saw the first of the Mournhounds. A group of them were gathering down the street, moving in small circles, but not heading my way or to the Oracle behind me.

  The runes on Kirves pulsed a dull orange in reaction to the Mourn. The moment I activated it, the Mournhounds would shift from gathering in small circles, to homing in—stalking straight at me. Kate’s words came back to me: What the hell is that hammer? It’s practically a runic battery. Why not paint a huge target on your back?