Dark Game (Merikh Book 1) (6 page)

I made it to the top of the beam and was just rising into a crouch when Bill tackled me, smashing me off the beam and into empty space.

I went calm and the world slowed down, even as I spun in a short arc heading for the ground.

Bill had jumped from the office floor, rising ten feet into the air to slam into me on the beam. This was information, but not immediately helpful.

Bill hadn't fired at me, nor even pulled his gun, meaning there was nothing official about his actions. Information again, but it would have to wait until I survived the fall to be put to use.

Bill was a big man, despite his acrobatics, with lots of cushioning. This was information I could use, assuming the deputy wasn't thinking as fast as he was moving.

I leaned into the deputy's grapple, swinging around our shared center of gravity as we fell to the floor. There was little time for the maneuver but the price of failure was death or paralysis. Desperation fueled my strength and the deputy did nothing to fight me. I gripped the man tight as the final part of the revolution completed a moment before we hit the ground.

Even with the deputy beneath me to take the sting out of the fall, my wind was knocked out of me. I rolled, dazed, off the larger man and lay on my back, trying to breath as the building spun around me.

Bill's form rested in my peripheral vision. In the calm of the moment I noticed something I’d missed earlier; the deputy was glowing a subtle yellow. It was the same sort of spectral light I saw when magic was in use, and I filed it away to think about later. If it were a way of identifying others using the ambrosia, it would come in handy.

My ability to breathe returned in a ragged gasp and a coughing fit, my chest muscles screaming with indignant pain at the return to life. I put my hand over my mouth, worried I’d see blood when I checked. I didn't, meaning at worst I’d broken a rib or two, but nothing had been punctured. Probably.

Bill was breathing too, though his was shallow and even. Somewhere deep in his chest came the sound of bones healing.

The ambrosia. I finally remembered the bottle in my pocket. I scrambled to check on it and laughed when I found it only slightly crumpled. The thick liquid remained within.

If I were going to face Bill I’d need all the help I could get. I unscrewed the cap and tossed it back, letting it pour slowly into my mouth.

It didn't taste like heaven, as Bill had described it. It tasted as disgusting as it looked, like the pus running from a festering wound. I soldiered on, getting it down my throat and waiting for the healing strength I’d been promised.

I dismissed the first wave of nausea as the result of the taste, but it kept coming, wave after wave accompanied by crippling pain as my body protested. I rolled on my side and retched hard, throwing it all up again in a desperate attempt to save myself. It was poison, vile and deadly, and it clung to me like a living thing.

I forced the last of it out and rolled onto my back again, away from the mess. My breathing was labored and painful, but I was aware of Bill rousing at my side. I didn't have long before things were going to get a lot worse.

I forced myself up into a sitting position and took in my surroundings. I was near the meeting spot from earlier, but closer to the wall. We’d almost hit the tank on the way down, narrowly avoiding bouncing off it and losing my landing cushion. If I could get going I’d be out the door before the deputy could stop me.

I clambered to my feet, keeping an eye on Bill as I rose, wobbling in place. The world was spinning again, my equilibrium shot, but I was up and the other guy wasn't. It was progress.

I made for the door and the bright sunlight outside. Each step was easier, each shuffling movement away from the remains of the ambrosia a little less torturous. I was halfway to the light before I felt my strength begin to return in earnest.

“Rat,” Bill croaked behind me as he shifted from his back. “Where are you going?”

I wanted to run, to save myself from the magically-powered man and never have to face anything like it again. But I needed to know what I was up against, needed to know if I had any chance in a fair fight. If I was to be denied their advantages I’d have to adjust and improve, and that meant learning what they could do.

I wondered what Mouse would have said, and realized I hadn't heard from her since entering the distillery. The earpiece had fallen out during the fight and I hadn't noticed. I reached into my pocket, praying the Blackberry was intact. It was, though I didn't have time to take it out and check if it was working.

-- Come get me. --

I turned to face the deputy as the man rose to his feet. He seemed to be doing well for a guy who'd fallen on his back from a dizzying height with someone on his chest. He stepped forward and for a moment it looked like there was a limp, but with his next step it was gone. A smile spread across his face as he stretched the muscles in his back.

“That was clever, whoever you are. That little flipping thing you did in the air. I'll have to remember that.”

“Where are your friends?' I said, dismayed at the croak in my voice. The deputy was loud and confident, everything I couldn't manage yet.

“Told them I'd be walking home to burn off the extra energy. I didn't want them interfering.”

“So it's just us, then.” I squared my stance, preparing myself. “I'll make it quick.”

There was a flash of insecurity, just for a moment, and then the confidence returned. “Who are you?”

“Just a little bird.”

I took the advantage, faking left and striking right with a clumsy punch to the man's face. It landed, rocking the deputy's head back and keeping him open. I struck again, driving a fist into his kidney before ducking away to check on my handiwork in relative safety.

Bill felt the attack but it seemed to have no effect. He paused, also surveying the outcome. He grinned and looked at me, pleased with what he felt.

“You're dead.”

Bill launched himself forward, accelerating faster than was naturally possible, but I was expecting it. I dodged to the side and swept the man's leg, kicking it out from under him so he tumbled to the floor face-first.

I was forming a fighting style for facing people like Bill, one built from quick strikes and a lot of running away. Like Trevor the night before, the deputy was big and strong and fast, but untrained. If he landed a punch it was punishing, but he didn't know how to do it effectively. He didn't know how to move his body as well as someone with even a little training, meaning that with time he could be beaten by sheer persistence. Or, I hoped, by running out the clock on the effect of the ambrosia.

Bill grumbled as he got to his feet. He had a scrape across the side of his face that was already healing as he turned to face me again. I took up a fighting position and met the deputy's glare with one of my own.

“You're quick,” Bill said. He shook his head as though dislodging a fog that probably wasn't there. “I'll need to pay more attention.”

His words were measured, even friendly, but his tone betrayed his anger. There was a simmering rage below the surface. Something else I could use.

Bill launched himself again, leading with his fist but trusting his bulk to knock aside any defense. I ran, keeping myself as far away from the attack as possible. I leapt up the nearest tank, scrambling for something to hold onto and failing. A moment later Bill arrived.

He was off center, crashing into the tank beside me, and still it was like dodging a car crash. The tank buckled where the deputy hit it and the whole thing rocked, torn free of the ancient bolts that had kept it locked to the floor for decades.

I backed away but Bill was quicker, turning from the dent he'd left in the metal and dashing after me. This time he caught me with a punch to the stomach that exploded through me like a shotgun blast. I fell to the floor, dazed and breathless. Bill paused, pacing and gloating before he delivered the killing blow.

“You're good, rat, I'll give you that. Fast, strong. Who are you?” I didn't answer, unable to draw enough breath. “Oh well. I'll get someone to search for your dental records, I guess.”

He kicked, catching me in the side and launching me into the air as easily as he'd launched the crate earlier. I tumbled when I hit the ground, smashing my face into the dirt over and over until I came to a stop in a heap against the outer wall.

“Who is this, then?” Bill said, distracted by something I had neither the ability nor inclination to notice. I was in agony, pain tearing through my body and wrenching my thoughts away. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't move without setting off a fresh torrent of pain.

“I think you're breaking the law, officer.” It was Mouse, her tone easy and non-confrontational, as though that would help against the deputy in the least. “How about you let me call an ambulance?”

“You touch that phone and I'll shove it someplace nasty, girl.”

I felt Bill walk past me, toward the entrance. Toward Mouse.

I had to get my shit together. I tried to calm my mind, to block out the pain and regain perspective, but it wasn't working. I couldn't fight the distraction of my screaming body, could barely focus my eyes on the scene unfolding in the bright sunlight.

“I don't want any trouble,” Mouse said. I could hear the smile on her lips and knew what that would do to Bill, as worked up as he was. As violent.

“Oh, don't worry. This won't be any trouble at all.”

“I figured you'd go for the clichéd response.”

I was on my feet, somehow moving toward Bill. I was shuffling, my muscles fighting me every step of the way, but the deputy was focused on something else. Someone else.

“I'll make you a deal,” Mouse said, still bright and cheery. “You stand there for a second and let me take a picture of you, and I'll let you do whatever you want with me. What do you think?”

“You know the rat, girl? You his friend?”

“You're starting to sound more and more like a Neanderthal by the minute, you know that?”

Bill heard me a moment too late, a moment before I pulled the deputy's gun from its holster at his side, raised it as I thumbed off the safety, and blew a neat hole right through his head.

I fell to the ground alongside my victim, unable to remain conscious anymore.

“I had that handled,” Mouse said as I slipped away.

The Knight: A Thousand Year Deal

The knight blinked against the bright sunlight as he appeared behind his god. The chain that had kept him by its side for millennia clattered to the stone floor.

They were in the large courtyard of an Eastern monastery. Buildings with a non-specific Eastern style surrounded them, but European men and women filled the place with their exertions. They sparred and ran laps, following the barked commands of masters in thick robes.

Ahn had taken no body here and hung in space a few feet from the ground. It was an amorphous blob gently glowing with a blue light, though the light was invisible to all around.

“Where are we?” the knight said.

“You know,” Ahn replied, correctly. They were at the headquarters of the newest of the assassin clans. Though the aesthetics of the place tried desperately to place it in Asia somewhere, they were actually in the US, somewhere near the border with Canada. The air had a cold bite to it and the trainees’ meager clothing showed off their gooseflesh.

“How do you think one of these people was convinced to act against our deal, and in so doing threaten everything they've built?” The god's voice appeared in the knight's mind, every syllable a pounding ache that washed away everything else.

“Who would be so foolish?” the knight replied, a question of his own masking any real answer.

A powerful yell came from the top of a flight of stairs leading up to a temple-like building. “Everybody leave the yard.” It was the master, the creator and leader of this new clan of assassins. Walter DeLacy.

Trainees and masters alike fled, emptying the space in moments. Ahn waited patiently as Walter slowly made his way down the steps and across the yard. He appeared as an aging man, strong and confident but lined from six decades of life, his hair receding back to a crown on his head.

“What are you doing here?” Walter barked, stopping within touching distance of the god. The knight wondered if the man, who could see Ahn, would be able to touch it.

“Civility never was one of your strengths,” Ahn said. “Your plans are going well, I see.”

“My plans are none of your concern,” Walter snapped in reply. It always amazed the knight, even knowing of the arrangement the two had, that a mere human would have the courage to speak to a god with such derision.

“Normally I would agree, but you're misbehaving and I'd like to know why.”

“The all-seeing, all-knowing, all-powerful Ahn hasn't got a clue.” Walter laughed and spat in the dust beneath Ahn's floating form. “We live in a world of boundless joy.”

“You risk much behaving this way.” The knight could hear the frown in Ahn's voice, even if DeLacy couldn't.

“I risk nothing. You are pathetic, squabbling children, you and your idiot other, but you are creatures of your word. We have a deal.”

“You are breaking that deal.”

“One day I may do so, but not today.”

“One of yours, a young man named Merikh, is active in the world. He moves against us, heedless of our deal.”

Walter paused, thinking for a moment before replying. “Merikh is dead. He took an assignment from the outside world and died in a fire.”

“He lives, and he has become involved in something Ehl is working on.”

“Directly?”

“Of course not. Our children don't know of us, let alone their priests.”

“And you believe Merikh is working against Ehl's plan?” There was a hint of a smile on the assassin master's face.

“Do not be amused by this. You cannot act against us, for fear of losing your exalted place in the world.” Ahn's deal with Walter was fantastic for the man, but hinged on a simple agreement. Walter received immortality and immunity from Ahn and Ehl's dominion, and in exchange he agreed that neither he nor anyone he passed his gift to could act against the gods.