“Blood?” asked Kirkcaldie intently.
“I couldn’t tell. There’s some spotlights on stands pointed out toward the door,” Clements reported. “It looks as if that’s the light the cops saw last night.”
“When you go back in, try the ceiling,” advised Kirkcaldie. “Bad shit always tends to drop down on you from the ceiling. It’s like getting attacked by clichés.”
“Copy that. I’ll do one more sweep, then?” asked Clements.
“Please. And then we’ll send in the troops.”
“Yes, sir.” Odette watched in fascination as Clements’s body slumped a little against the church wall. After a few moments, however, the Pawn stood bolt upright.
“Sir, a big flagstone in the floor had moved while I was gone!” she reported frantically.
“Oh, the crypt!” exclaimed Kirkcaldie. “Of course!”
“Sir, something came out!” said Clements.
“What? What is it?” demanded Kirkcaldie.
“I’d have to look into the past to see it,” said Clements tightly. “Which means I’ll—” She broke off as something slammed against the rear wall of the church, punching a hole through the stone right by the two Pawns. Then something reached through the hole, grasped the stunned Pickhaver, and pulled him, shouting, into the church.
45
Felicity reeled. The horrendous noise and the impact of the hole being punched in the wall of the church had hit her like a thunderclap, and chips of stone had smacked her in the face. Dust was in her mouth, her ears were ringing, and her senses were smeared between her body and an area inside the church just in front of the altar. The horrible quickness with which Pickhaver had been snatched away had stunned her. Automatically, she peered after him and caught a glimpse of him being dragged so quickly by that thing that his body whipped back and forth against the pews. Then down he went into the crypt.
I should look in the crypt, she thought foggily. Get a better view of the thing. It had been man-size and skittered along on all fours. Then she heard a voice cutting through the ringing in her ears.
“Clements!” Kirkcaldie’s voice was blasting. “Fall back to the pub immediately!”
Right, thought Felicity dazedly. The pub, right. Just let me get my bearings. She felt her muscles twitch as her entire consciousness settled itself into her brain, and then she was up and running toward the pub. She was distantly aware of Kirkcaldie giving other orders over the headset, but all she could concentrate on was getting across the grass to the street, and then across the street to the pub, And then I’ll be safe, and Leliefeld will be safe, and—
The grass in front of her burst open, and a shape erupted out of the hole and landed in front of her. Felicity skidded to a stop, stumbling over her feet. It stalked toward her and she saw that it was human-shaped and green and yellow and black, like a poisonous frog. Its skin was wrinkled and caught the light as though it had been shellacked with slime. The seemingly featureless face was covered with a membrane that glistened and moved.
Then flashes lit up at its sides and shoulders, and it twitched as if stung. She saw Checquy troops advancing with guns. Unfortunately, their bullets did not appear to be doing much harm. The creature was, most thoughtlessly, failing to crumple or even get punctured. It was, however, getting irritated, and it gave a wet, bubbling snarl through the membrane on its face. So it has a mouth somewhere behind that stuff.
She realized with a start that she was still clutching her gun. Maybe at closer range it will do some damage, she thought. Or at least buy me a couple of minutes. But by the time she brought it up, one of the Pawns must have managed to unlimber his powers, because a bolt of orange lightning lanced across from the pub and buried itself in the creature’s body, which shuddered as it smoked. For a few moments, crackles of electricity danced across its skin, but then it resumed moving toward Felicity. She scrabbled backward and brought up her gun.
“You think that’s all we’ve got, beastie?” she heard Pawn Kirkcaldie say over her headset. “Checquy, bring that thing down.” And the Pawns let loose.
It was madness. Trails of green smoke wound over its body, raising blisters and bubbling skin. Frost spread in fern patterns on the monster’s chest. The grass underfoot grew longer and twisted around the creature’s feet, then a squealing scraped through the air as veins of copper spread through the vegetation and turned to rigid metal cuffs shackling its ankles. Patches of color were leeched from its skin.
A pair of razor-sharp hatchets whirled down from a nearby rooftop, buried themselves in its shoulder blades, then whipped through the air back to the hands of their owner, who threw them again and again. And not all of the Pawns’ powers could be seen. For a few moments, for no apparent reason, the creature frantically clawed at its own face. Then it was slapping at the air at things no one else could see. Meanwhile, bullets continued to spray it, and Felicity fired her own weapon into its chest. Another bolt of reddish-yellow lightning erupted and the creature went to its knees. Finally, it fell backward, its feet still locked in those metal shackles.
Then, almost like an afterthought, a nearby Volvo was jerked away from its parking place and came cartwheeling thunderously across the road to land, nose-down, directly on top of the monster.
The echoes from the attack died away. I will never use the word overkill again, thought Felicity weakly.
“Nice job, people,” said Kirkcaldie in her ear. “Very nice. Now let’s take a breath, then we’ll enter the church and see if that thing has left any victims alive.” The troops on the ground began walking toward the wreckage, and several others descended from the rooftops, one of them backflipping easily down three stories and landing like a cat.
I’m going to have to scout out that crypt, thought Felicity. But first I could do with half a pint of something. She was rather pleased with herself. She hadn’t been killed, she’d managed to get some shooting in, and she hadn’t been ill. Maybe I’ll make it a full pint.
Suddenly there were bursts of dirt and grass and tarmac all around as one, then four, then a dozen of the creatures came out of the ground.
Bloody hell!
The street went apocalyptic as each Pawn acted instinctively to attack the creature nearest to him or her. Light and sound exploded. A wave of cold swept over Felicity and, for a few hideous moments, everything looked upside down.
Then everything righted itself, and the world made sense again. Except for all the supernatural shit going down. Kirkcaldie was screaming something over the airwaves, so loud that Felicity had to tear her headset off, but now one of the creatures was looming right in front of her, its back to her as it held up a squirming Pawn with both hands and crushed the man’s neck. Damn you! thought Felicity, and she suddenly had the barrel of her gun against the nape of the creature’s neck and was pulling the trigger and emptying the clip. To her astonishment, the creature fell to the ground. Automatically, she slapped a fresh clip into her weapon. One clip left after this, the professional part of her mind reminded her.
Okay, what next? she thought, looking around.
Apparently, disaster was what was next, because other Pawns did not appear to be faring at all well against the creatures, who were now vaulting up onto roofs and going after the snipers. Pawns and Retainers were scattering, shouting to one another to fall back.
So extremely bad, thought Felicity. Leliefeld! I’ve got to get her out of here! Between Felicity and the pub, however, was a supernatural free-for-all, and the Checquy was not winning. She would have to find a way around. Then she realized that the pub’s windows were shattered and a cloud of black smoke was belching out.
Oh, I’m in so much trouble, she thought. The creatures, fortunately, were focusing on the Checquy troops who were attacking them and ignoring the one who was standing there, aghast. She saw one soldier, the man who had been shooting lightning, get pulled, yelling, into one of the holes in the ground.
All right, you can’t help them armed only with moral outrage, she to
ld herself. You need to fall back, find Odette, and keep her safe. Holding her gun low, she scuttled to her left, her eyes fixed on the gap between two houses. She ducked as a high-pitched whine filled the air behind her, and a human voice rose up in agony. As she hurried into the passage, she heard the unmistakable sound of a car exploding behind her.
Felicity ran down the curving alleyway, and the noise of the battle grew quieter. She paused, gasping for breath, and leaned back against the wall.
I will be calm.
Now prioritize.
First, check communications. She put the headset back on. There was only static. “Hello?” she said quietly into the microphone. “Pawn Kirkcaldie? Leliefeld?” No answer. Oh God, please don’t let her be dead. Quite aside from the political ramifications of Leliefeld’s death and the fact that it was Felicity’s job to keep her alive, she actually liked the Grafter. It was impossible not to like someone when she saved your sight and sculpted you a dress and you saw her worried out of her mind about her little brother.
And what did I do for her? thought Felicity. I brought her here. It had been on orders, but still.
Second, take stock of equipment. She had two clips left, one in the gun, one on her belt, but since bullets seemed to have no effect unless you put the gun right against the napes of the creatures’ necks, Felicity was not encouraged. One combat knife strapped to her thigh. You need to find yourself more weapons, locate that girl, and get her out of here. Do it now!
She looked up, startled, as something vaulted over the alley above her head. It was followed by two other somethings. She caught a flash of yellow, green, and black. The sound of gunfire echoed down to her.
I need to put some distance between me and the chaos and then circle around back to the pub. If Leliefeld isn’t there, then at least my phone will be. She hurried down the alleyway, ignoring the passages that sprouted off it. Finally she came to a doorway set into one of the walls. It was locked, but she smashed the lock open, horribly aware of the noise, and slid into the house.
It was nice. Jarringly so, after the insanity outside. The owners had obviously spent a good deal of time doing the place up and selecting that couch to go with that rug to go with that chaise. She picked up the phone hopefully and was disappointed but not surprised to find it dead. Next step, look for weapons. There was a study upstairs with wooden bookshelves and a computer, but the desk was lamentably empty of handguns. Nor was there anything hidden in the bedside table, or even under the mattress of the master bed. It was a long shot, I suppose. The inhabitants of this house and, she feared, most of Muirie’s denizens were too liberal to have shotguns. Okay, so improvise.
The kitchen provided two very nice large cooking knives, which she taped to her forearms. The leg from an exquisite antique table became a very passable (if somewhat curvy) club. She couldn’t, however, find a map of the village, which would have been useful. From there, she hesitated. Streets or snickelways? If she used the streets, she’d probably find the pub much more quickly, but she’d also probably get killed much more quickly. Snickelways it is, she decided, and she let herself out the way she’d come in.
The alley was quiet except for the occasional distant screams, blasts of automatic gunfire, and, once, a sound like harps that shimmered through the passageways. Still only static over the radio. She took a moment to orient herself, using the plume of smoke rising into the air in the distance as a handy reference for the location of the pub. Then she set off at a trot, combat knife and club at the ready.
Felicity turned a corner and came to a T-junction, only to find herself in the middle of a standoff. On one side, a few feet from her, was a creature, poised to lunge. Facing it from several yards away was a woman in tactical armor. Behind her, filling the alleyway, was a roiling mass of water that stood like a wall.
“Oh, I beg your pardon,” said Felicity.
“Pawn, fall back!” the woman barked. The water behind her grew still for a moment, and then a torrent poured forth, a deluge that, Felicity saw in astonishment, split around the woman before coming together and hammering its way down the passage. Felicity stepped back hurriedly and watched the wave sweep toward the creature. Then she realized that the cascading water was also pouring toward her. She turned to run but the flow swept her feet out from under her and sent her skidding and bouncing against the walls on either side.
By the time she was able to get to her feet, the torrent had died away, but she felt strangely disinclined to go back and see how it had all worked out. Instead, she took a different route and found herself facing an actual thoroughfare. She peered cautiously around the corner and couldn’t see anything either threatening or promising.
This looks like it might go to the pub. Or at least in the general direction of the pub.
She proceeded cautiously, taking care to glance behind her every few seconds. Then a sound caught her ear.
There was a wet coughing off to her left, and she saw one of the creatures emerge from a snickelway opposite. She looked about and saw no escape routes on her side. The creature caught sight of her and stiffened. Think quickly. She ducked her head and, much to her own surprise, hurled herself through the window of the nearest house. She rolled to her feet, a little unsteadily, and then couldn’t help but scream as the creature burst through the wall and skidded past her into the kitchen. Why didn’t it just come in through the broken window? she wondered blearily. It was probably asking itself the same question as it pried its way out of the wreckage of the cupboards. The monster shook its head, almost human in its attempt to clear its thoughts.
They’re resilient, she thought. I’ll give them that. But not too bright. Then the thing focused on her, and she scrambled away up the stairs. She rounded the landing, bounded up the next flight, and then turned, club at the ready. She’d lost her combat knife in the trip through the window but tore the kitchen knife off her left arm.
Come on!
“Well, fucking come on!” she shouted. There was nothing there, no monster coming up the stairs. No sound of any movement in the house. Well, what does that mean?
And then it burst up through the floor directly behind her. Its hands closed around her head—No!—and in her horror, her mental defenses slipped and her powers flared. She had a fleeting impression of liquid pouring onto her face, and then she was back in her head, back in the present, and she stabbed behind her with the horrendously expensive Japanese cooking knife in her hand. To the surprise of everyone concerned, the knife actually went into the creature a little bit. Not a great deal, but enough that the beast let go of Felicity’s head.
Felicity dropped to one knee, retrieved her club from the floor, and whipped it up as she stood, bashing the creature in the chin. Not that she believed for a minute that would kill it. Without stopping, she changed her grip on the club, took a step to the side, and twisted to hit the monster in its knee. It buckled, and she spun around, using her momentum to whack the creature square in its lack of a face. The monster toppled backward into the hole it had emerged from, its yellow fingers scrabbling at the rim. Again. She brought the club down on one of the hands, and this time it fell.
Keep going! She turned and ran up the next flight of stairs, heading for the roof. There might be creatures on the rooftops, but there’s definitely one behind me and it’s in a shit mood. She scrambled through a tiny bedroom with slanting ceilings and out through a dormer window. She dropped lightly onto the roof of the house next door and clung to the tiles as she made her way across the rooftops. Finally she let herself down in another alleyway. She wasn’t sure if her recent movements had set her back or forward on her route, so she jogged until she found herself, purely by luck, on the pitch where the helicopter had dropped them off. Okay, now I just go to the pub the same way as before.
And then?
There was the temptation to turn her back on the village and run off into the countryside. The smoke hung thick in the air. Gunfire echoed, and she felt the occasional gut-churning sensatio
n of a Pawn lashing out with his or her powers. Felicity didn’t know what pushed her to walk back into it. Maybe it was the thought of abandoning her fellow Checquy operatives. Maybe it was years of lessons about duty and responsibility. Maybe it was because her charge Odette was in there. Maybe it was because her friend Odette was in there.
Maybe it was all those things.
So she went back in.
Now that she was oriented, she made her way to the pub with relative ease. She was just approaching the last corner before the courtyard when something rushed out of a side passage. Felicity dropped to her knee and held her last knife low, ready to stab up, but it held out a hand.
“Stop! Checquy!” It was a man, in armor. A tall black man with a shaved head, he had a distinctly military air about him. A long gun was slung across his back, and he was holding a submachine gun identical to Felicity’s. “Trevor Cawthorne.” A Retainer, she thought. Must have been recruited from the army. He held out a hand.
“Pawn Clements,” she said, taking his hand and pulling herself up. “Felicity.”
“Yeah, you scouted the church,” he said. “I thought you would have got killed in the first confusion.” Felicity shrugged. “Nice club, by the way.”
“Thank you.”
“Is that—that’s not from a Clavell desk, is it?”
“Well, it was,” she said.
“Shame,” he tutted. “Wouldn’t care for some ammunition, would you?” He drew a couple of clips out of his vest and handed them over. “You have to be right up to the creatures to have any effect, right in their faces, but not as close as you need to be with a club.” Felicity gratefully accepted the clips and retaped her kitchen knife to her forearm. With a reloaded gun in one hand and her club in the other, she felt a little better. “You’re keeping the club?” he asked.