Matt Archer: Redemption (27 page)

“Me, neither,” Lanningham said. “I’m starting to think the tank might not be overkill.”

I looked back at the Abrams. It had made the two hundred mile journey from the airstrip with us, lumbering along tirelessly over terrain that was tough even for Humvees.

Ever since I’d gotten lost, then burned, in China, my support team had been extra jumpy and today it didn’t seem like such a bad idea. “I don’t think we’ll need an Abrams. Not yet at least. I’d keep a flamethrower handy, though.”

Blakeney gave me an ironic smile. “I already called the M240 on Humvee 3.”

“Good,” I said. “And thanks for keeping an eye on me.”

I joined the wielder group. Ramirez’s expression, typically hard to read, was stonier than usual. He’d been here at one time, guarding Zenka; he could feel the difference as well as Will and I could. Julie seemed less concerned, but nobody looked calm. Even Jorge seemed twitchy.

And everyone was staring at me.

Self-conscious, but ready to get started, I crouched and picked up a handful of red sand. It sifted through my fingers like an hourglass—time, slipping away. But when I rubbed my hands together to get rid of the last of the dust, I saw a speck of white buried in the dirt. A touch made me think it was a stone, but Tink hissed in my head and a shock coursed through my body. Sick, I dug at the at the object until I unearthed a bone. It was a femur, and it was small.

I’d found the village.

Was this bone from the little boy who’d saluted me on my first visit? Or a sibling of the one who’d given me a rock in repayment for protecting his village from monsters attacking in the night? Whoever it was, we’d failed them.

“I’m going to kill whatever did that.” Aunt Julie’s voice was flat. “We find out what hurt that child, it’s mine.”

“Then we’ll have the tank shoot it,” Will said, his eyes flashing. “Then burn it.”

I understood their rage, but I didn’t feel it; not this time. Mamie was
here
somewhere. Whatever had happened to Zenka’s people, we were too late to save them, but we could save Mamie. That would have to be enough.

Blakeney was right, though—this place was crawling. Like a hum in my blood, monsters were singing to me across time and space, letting me know they were on the hunt. “We’ve got incoming.”

Uncle Mike’s head whipped around. He’d been talking to Johnson, but now I had his full attention. “What?”

I didn’t answer him. “I need to get going before it’s too late.”

“I’m going with Matt,” Will said, his tone daring the others to tell him no. “We don’t know what’ll happen in there, and he needs a wielder at his back.”

“I agree,” Ramirez said. He drew his knife slowly, almost tenderly, from its sheath. The blade rasped against the leather and he smiled. “But if it’s all the same to you, I’m staying out here. Just in case.”

“Me, too,” Julie said. “I’m more use on offense.”

Uncle Mike pinched the bridge of his nose, as if his choices caused him pain. “Okay, then here’s the plan. Archer and Cruessan, along with me, Nguyen and Johnson, are going into the caves. That’s it. Everyone else stays out here, armed to the teeth. Any objections?”

“I’d prefer to come with you to the caves,” Jorge said.

“We might need a third wielder on guard outside,” Uncle Mike said. “But I’ll let Archer decide.”

Everyone turned to me. Of course he would make this my decision; I was the guy who had to touch the pentagrams. If I was honest, the idea of burning my hands, maybe for nothing, paled in comparison to the minute chance I’d find a lead on Mamie. I’d jump into an acid bath if it meant she’d show up at home without a scratch on her.

Which made my choice easier.

I looked at each wielder in turn. “Jorge comes with us. Captain Tannen and Major Ramirez can take command while we’re gone. If it gets crazy out here, send Jorge and Cruessan back to help.”

Uncle Mike nodded, like he approved my decision, even though he did shoot a concerned glance at my aunt. “Keep alert.”

“Always,” Aunt Julie said.

Uncle Mike led me, Jorge and Will into the grassy path on the way to the caves. Johnson and Nguyen watched our backs. The grass made a
shush, shush, shush
noise as we walked through it. That’s when I noticed something odd. The last time we’d been here, the grass had caught on my clothes, my skin, my bootlaces. It had practically avoided touching Zenka, though, like it wanted to stay out of her way.

Today, not a single grass head brushed me as I walked by.

Uneasy, I checked out the others; all of them were struggling except Jorge. Besides me, he was the only one the grass bent
away
from.

What did this mean? Had I been imbued with some sort of shamanic power? Or did the grass simply know where I was headed and didn’t want any part of it?

I shuddered. Here, in the Kalahari, it was late spring, and the air was warm, but I was cold all over, with pinpricks of chill dancing across my skin. The feeling intensified as we approached the mouth of the cave.

To look at it, the cave was a shallow opening in an outcropping of rock. It wasn’t wide, or deep, or even that dark. A pall hung over it, though, something foul. I wouldn’t be able to swear that feeling was real or describe it to the others, but it was
there
. I turned to Jorge and his entire body was tense, like a man ready to spring at any second. While the others seemed jumpy, he was on high-alert. That’s how I knew for sure I wasn’t imaging things.

We filed inside. There was a dusty, unused smell in the air as we passed ancient cave drawings of hunting parties and animals. They were faded due to age and exposure, unlike the paintings we were here to see.

Equally ancient, these paintings looked new. The enamel filling in the white pentagram, the one depicting the wielders in various stances, was as fresh as if it had just been applied. The same was true of the black, upside-down pentagram which showed the prime monsters we’d killed. At the bottom, the Shadow Man stood smeared and holding a curved-bladed spear, the enamel shining slick and oily in the light of Captain Johnson’s flashlight.

“Tink?” I murmured. “Are you sure about this?”

No, but we have to try. Don’t lay away the knife, though. Keep it on your person, where it belongs. You’ll need its power, and mine, I fear.

“Way to boost my confidence.” I let out a long breath and unfastened my camo jacket. The chills had left, and now I was hot. My T-shirt felt too tight, constricting, but I wasn’t going to strip down shirtless in front of these guys. Especially when I had no idea what would happen once I touched those pentagrams.

“Ready?” Uncle Mike asked softly. Concern ran deep in the lines of his forehead and around his eyes. He wasn’t going to stop me, though.

“Yes.”

I shook out my arms and spread my feet apart so I was standing straight and sturdy. Anything for Mamie. Anything at all.

I help up my hands just as rifle shots erupted outside, followed by Ramirez barking orders and the unmistakable boom of the Abrams’ main gun being fired. Uncle Mike turned toward the cave’s entrance, Jorge on his heels.

The cave wall snapped shut, blocking us from outside.

If we’d had any doubts this was the right place, they were gone now. Mike still went to the wall and pounded his fists against them. His hands came away bloody. He shot me a wild look.

“Like Afghanistan?” I asked. There, the cave wall had closed between me and my team, leaving me stranded on the wrong side.

“Worse,” he said, showing me his hands. The skin was scored with cuts. “Unless you want to try to saw your way out with your knife.”

“Gentlemen? Has anyone noticed the light?” Jorge asked.

He was right—despite being completely sealed off from the outside, it wasn’t dark, but no one had clicked on a flashlight. I turned at the drawings; the white pentagram was glowing. My hands trembled as I reached out for the cave wall, because nothing would change my mind now—Mamie had been here.

In one swift motion, I pressed my palms against the pentagrams.

Chapter Thirty-Two

The stone heated up beneath my hands, blazing hot. Out of reflex, I tried to let go and found I couldn’t. My heart beat like a frightened animal’s, fast and so hard, I swore it wanted to break free of my ribs to flee my body.

The heat spread up my arms, into my torso and down into my legs. I let out a sharp cry of pain and each beat of my pulse
hurt
.

Right as I reached the edge of my endurance, the wall released me and I was flung backward, into the team, where I crashed to the floor. Funny, even with all those people there to catch me, when I hit the ground, I hit my head too. Really hard. It made a sound like an overripe cantaloupe falling off a supermarket bin.

And how did I know that? I saw it happen. Because the body on the floor wasn’t me—I was floating back toward the pentagrams. I tried to yell, to tell the others where I was, but nothing came out. Mike was on his knees by my side, Will next to him. Johnson was at the cave wall, yelling for help, but the muffled sounds of battle were all that came through from the other side.

A searing pain that was everywhere at once embedded in my atoms and shocked my system. It felt like I was lengthening. The stretch and pull continued until I thought I’d snap through. Then the cave disappeared. The world went blind dark and utterly silent.

My nightmare, for real.

The world tilted and I hit ground with a thud. Slowly, the tiniest bit of light returned and I was lying on an ebony floor, sprawled out like I’d been dropped. My body was with me in this place. Wherever
here
was.

Strangely, I could still hear the team.

“
He’s convulsing. Pulse is thready.”

“Matt, wake up!”

“His heart stopped!”

“We need a medic,” Mike snapped.

“How?” Will said. “There’s no way in or out, sir!”

“CPR,” Jorge said, sounding calmer than the others. “Move aside.”

I didn’t have long, it sounded like. Whatever part of me—Soul? Consciousness?—had been removed, it didn’t seem like my body appreciated being abandoned.

Standing took a lot of effort, but I managed in the end and saw I was in a long tunnel. I glanced right, then left. Not sure it mattered which way I went, I turned right and started walking. My footsteps echoed in the silence and a heavy loneliness settled on my shoulders. Wherever I was, I felt like the only living thing in existence.

When I came to the end of the tunnel, there were black marble stairs leading down. Flight after flight. How many stories I travelled, I’d never remember. It seemed like forever, but it might’ve been five minutes—or five weeks. Time had no meaning here.

Finally the stairs ended at an archway, and beyond it, a large hall made of carved stone, lit by torches of blue fire in sconces on the walls. At the end there was a large throne on a dais and on that throne sat something so dark it seemed to draw the light into itself. The huge creature was shaped roughly like a human, but smudged around the edges, indistinct, and cold radiated from its body.

The Dark Master had finally called me to him.

“Matthew.” His voice was kindly and warm, not like the nightmare image in front of me. “How good of you to meet me. Come, please.”

My feet dragged me forward. I had no control over myself in his presence, no matter how I struggled.

“Sorry it took you a while to travel here, but moving between planes isn’t an easy thing.” He chuckled and shivers wracked my body. “I had to ease you into the transition with all those useless passageways. Unlike your sister, I couldn’t be assured you’d make it across in one piece. She’s a special case to be sure, and can exist both places. You? Well, it was a risk I was willing to chance.”

“Where is Mamie?” I asked, hating to hear my voice shake. I wanted to look away from him, but he wouldn’t allow me to turn my head.

“In due time.” He motioned me forward. “I have a story to tell you. About why you’re here. Please sit.”

My knees buckled and I was forced to kneel on the floor at the shadow’s feet. Goose bumps rose on my scalp.

“Matt?” a soft voice asked from the pitch black behind the throne. “Is it you?”

“Mamie,” I whispered, although I wanted to scream. The Dark Master controlled even that, it seemed.

“Yes, yes, my pet is close by. Behave and I might let you see her.”

Rage finally started to break through my fear, and I checked the room for weapons. There were none. Only smooth stone walls, torches and the darkness of the Master.

“You must wonder why—and how—you came to be here,” he said.

“I couldn’t care less,” I told him, fighting to raise my voice above a murmur. “Give my sister back, you fucking monster, and let us go.”

“Profanity. So human.” He clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Your race is a blight marring the perfection of my universe. I can’t let that continue. You need to be weeded out.”

“
Your
universe? How do you figure that?”

Now he cocked his head. His features were so smeared, I couldn’t tell, but I thought he might be smiling. “Because I made it. I created the very fabric of the cosmos, you know. And before long, I’ll own it all. As it should be. You cannot keep something as vast as myself boxed.”

So Dr. Burton-Hughes’s theories
were
true. That’s why Nocturna Maura killed her—because she knew where the Dark One came from. The physics community had called her crazy. If they only knew. She may’ve been a scientist, but she was also a shaman, and she knew the truth even if her colleagues never believed her.

I tried to lift my head. “Old news. Someone else already figured that out. Dr. Burton-Hughes discovered dark energy—
you
—blew apart what existed before the Big Bang.”

“Indeed. She was a rare exception to the rule of human stupidity.”

I edged a fraction to the right, wondering if I could rush the beast, break his neck. After straining every muscle until I saw stars, the best I could do was barely straighten my back. This was hopeless. I was in his world. Powerless to fight. How would I get to my sister?