Resonance 4th Edits - Bleeding Worlds Bk 3 (16 page)

“It’s fine. I can keep it together.”

Adrastia reached out her left hand.

It was like the world was an unbroken surface of water her touch caused to ripple.

She stepped into the center of the ripple, the world wrapping itself around her. Her right hand, intertwined with Gwynn’s left, pulled him forward. His hand pressing into the ripple felt like being submerged in warm water. But as it drew him further in, everything was inverted—instead of pressure building as he went deeper, the pressure was greatest at the surface. Reality pressed against him, squeezing and pulling him into the smallest spaces between time and the physical world. He pushed forward, not just allowing himself to be dragged by Adrastia’s grip. He envisioned their journey as Pridament explained it to him—passing through a single sheet of paper folded over itself many times. Instead of traveling a long line, two distant points could touch each other. Pressing through the “paper” added pressure and resistance, only to be followed by a momentary relief as they passed through the “space” between the folds.

Free from the fold, Gwynn gulped air into his lungs. The single breath made him feel rejuvenated—like it was re-inflating his squeezed-flat-body. His stomach lurched, but he swallowed it back.

They stood on a sandy shore, a vast expanse of water stretched to the horizon. The light of day had yet to disappear, but the moon assumed a dominant position in the sky.

“I thought Folding was instantaneous,” Gwynn said. “It looks like it took hours.”

Adrastia giggled.

“Different time zone, silly. When we arrive in Iraq, it’ll be even a few hours earlier than this. Come on.”

She motioned toward a patch of beach different from the rest.

The ground was still sand, but the breeze blowing from it warmed his cheeks and lacked the salty tang of the ocean.

They stepped through the Bifrost fragment. Sea water was replaced by a sea of sand. The air was thick and heavy, clinging to Gwynn’s skin.

It didn’t feel much like a homecoming.

“Where are we?” he asked

Adrastia shrugged.

“Somewhere on the western part of Africa.” She held out her hand. “One more Fold and we’ll be there.”

He took her hand and again felt reality press against him.

They arrived in a crowded city street. Someone bumped into Gwynn’s shoulder. He assumed they swore at him from their tone, but he didn’t understand their words.

“Come on,” Adrastia said.

“This is Iraq?”

She nodded.

“It’s not what I… expected,” he said. “I didn’t think it would look so…”

“Modern?” she suggested.

“Yes. All we heard about were bombs and wars. After all that, it’s hard to imagine it could still be a modern, thriving, city.”

“Well, things have improved for the region a bit since the cataclysm. Unlike other parts of the world where the Ageless Ones have assumed totalitarian control, this area has seen increased freedoms. They have the benefit of an Ageless One who is too powerful to be opposed, but too uninterested in their day to day affairs to assume total control. He loves his people. And now that he can operate in the open, he’s put an end to much of this region’s strife.”

Gwynn looked to the faces of the people around them—smiles, moving at a relaxed pace. These weren’t a people who feared where the next attack could come from. Was it possible someone with their power could make the world better?

“Is that who we’re here to meet?” Gwynn asked.

“Yes. He’s an old…friend, I guess you could say. Though I haven’t seen him in a while.”

They spent another five minutes easing their way through the crowds along the main street. Then, Adrastia pulled on his sleeve, guiding them down an alleyway.

Halfway down, a single wooden door was set in the wall. A dim lamp, hanging at an angle, partially illuminated a sign that looked like it had been painted a hundred years ago. A series of markings, some which Gwynn assumed were Sanskrit, others that appeared to be other Asiatic letters, were scrolled in an arc above the words “Book Store.”

Adrastia pushed the door open—sounding the metallic ring of a bell.

Decades of old dust swirled beneath the orange glow of half-dead incandescent bulbs hanging loose from the ceiling. Shelves lined the outer walls and a series of tables created an obstacle course in all the spaces in between. Nearly every surface, shelf, even better parts of the floor, were stacked with books—age and dust obscured most of the covers.

An oasis of plants ringed a counter in the center of the room. Behind the counter, a man moved along each plant, drizzling a light stream of water from a bronzed watering can. He stole a brief glance at the arrivals and turned his attention back to the plants.

“You are free to look around,” he said, the slightest lilt of an accent in his voice, “but I will be closing shortly.”

Adrastia pulled the veil and scarf from her head.

“And how do you expect anyone to find something in this chaos?”

The can crashed to the ground with a splashing
Ding!

He stared at her open-mouthed, his now empty hand trembling.

“Tiamat.”

Adrastia gave a slow shake of her head.

“No, no. You killed that name long ago,” she said, not unkindly. “I’ve used many names since then, but I’ve settled on Adrastia.”

The man shifted his gaze from Adrastia to Gwynn. His eyes widened. Book covers and pages rattled in a mysterious wind whipping through the store. The air snapped with an audible
Crack
as the Veil tore and a mace appeared in the man’s hand.

Adrastia threw herself, arms spread wide, between Gwynn and the man.

“Hold, Marduk,” she said. “Look closer—he is not Kingu.”

Gwynn remained motionless, his arms tight against his sides. Gwynn’s skin burned beneath the man’s, Marduk’s, intensive stare.

The pages quieted—the air returning to stillness. Marduk’s hand emptied, his mace melting away into the Veil.

“But…” He stepped out from behind the counter, moving closer. “He looks…he sounds…”

Sounds?
Gwynn thought.
I didn’t say anything.

Marduk’s lips curled into a smile.

“I see—Kingu’s shadow. Or, I hope, the case is Kingu is the shadow of this man.”

Adrastia nodded.

“Marduk, this is Gwynn. I have brought him here in the hopes you may help him.”

Marduk’s brow raised in puzzlement.

“Help
him
? If he is Kingu’s opposite, his abilities should be equal, if not superior, to my own.”

“Kingu?” Gwynn asked, finally feeling safe enough to speak.

“He means Cain,” Adrastia said. She turned her attention back to Marduk. “He does not have the years of experience Kingu has. He’s also been injured.” She motioned with her hand toward Gwynn’s amputated arm. “The Veil gives him only the barest amount of energy—only enough to heal small wounds. There is no way he can stand against Kingu in his current state.”

“Then why not train him yourself?”

Adrastia and Gwynn exchanged glances.

“It is a…complicated situation,” Adrastia said. “But I know you have the ability to help him.”

“And why should I?”

Adrastia wet her lips.

“Do you recall the last thing I said to you—about when I would next see you?”

Marduk’s eyes dulled, his focus turning inward.

After a moment, he nodded.

“You said the next time I saw you would be when the world was coming to an end.”

“Then you understand why I’m here,” she said. “We need to talk, but I don’t wish to waste any more of this world’s time.”

“The white room?”

By way of an answer, she took Marduk’s hands and the two of them disappeared.

Gwynn sighed. Adrastia may have revealed her greatest secret—her identity—but she hid so many more.

He wandered through the labyrinth of books and tables. Most of the titles were in languages he couldn’t read—not that he had any real desire. Most likely none of these books held the secrets he needed to protect his family from whatever storm approached.

Behind the counter, he found a rickety wooden chair. He waited twenty minutes before Adrastia and Marduk popped back into existence. Adrastia released Marduk’s hand, searching the room for Gwynn’s whereabouts. He offered her a single wave.

“Were we gone long?” she asked.

“Not too long. Is everything all right?”

She exchanged a glance with Marduk, who gave a resigned nod of agreement.

“Yes. I think Marduk understands his role.”

“Well, that’s handy,” Gwynn said. “Because I’m not too sure what mine is.”

Marduk approached the counter and placed his hands flat on its surface.

“Your role is pretty simple,” he said. “Though I doubt you will think so when I say you might die.”

Fuyuko smashed the rear window out of the SUV and sprayed a layer of ice across the road behind them.

For good measure, she willed the ice into spikes, piercing the tires of their pursuers.

Her hand turned a dangerous shade of pale blue. She closed her eyes and took a long breath, pushing away the Veil just for a moment.

I can’t keep this up alone.

The others were Anunnaki, but not near her level of ability or control.

Or maybe I just don’t trust them.

It could’ve been she just didn’t want to lose any more of them. If someone had to jump out of a speeding SUV to defend them, it was going to be her.

“Up front,” Toms said from the driver’s seat. “They’ve blocked the road with a transport truck.”

“They’ll have gunmen. Get ready to fire,” Fuyuko said.

Dammit. I’ve been too focused on guarding our rear.

“Holy shit!”

Fuyuko leaned forward to see better out the front window.

From the front SUV, a black whip snaked out, snapping the blockade truck in half. With a few quick snaps, it smashed the halves aside, clearing a path.

Gunfire erupted from the front SUV as they passed through the wreckage.

“Fire,” Fuyuko said.

The SUV filled with the rat-a-tat of machine-gun fire.

As they cleared the gap, Fuyuko tore into the Veil and filled the space with a wall of ice.

She dialed Marks’ phone.

“Yes, sir?” he answered.

“Marks, is everyone all right up there?”

“A few scrapes and a bullet wound—but it’s minor and already being healed. I nearly shot our prisoner when I felt him tearing the Veil. I’m kind of glad I hesitated.”

“Me too. Can I speak with him?”

Shuffling sounds came through the phone and a muffled, “She wants to speak to you.”

“Fuyuko?” came Jason’s voice from the other end.

“I just wanted to say…thank you.”

“Yeah, well, just remember to put in a good word with your boss.”

“I can’t promise that’ll do any good,” she said.

“Did it do some good with you?” he asked.

She swallowed hard.

“Maybe.”

A lengthy silence was interrupted by the sounds of smashing glass and tearing metal. Screams came through the receiver before the line went dead.

A garbage truck had barrelled out from a side street and rammed into the side of the front SUV, smashing it over and slamming it against a building.

Toms cranked the wheel to the left, trying to clear the wreckage. The right side of their SUV screeched as it scraped the rear of the garbage truck. A pop came from the rear as a tire exploded. Toms fought the wheel.

The SUV rolled three times, finally coming to rest on its roof.

Fuyuko coughed, sending stabbing pains through her chest. A metal shard protruded from her lower left side. She pulled on the Veil, pushing the energy to the wound. When she felt its warmth pooling, she pulled the metal free with a gasp. Her skin itched where it stretched to close the gash and knit together.

“Is everyone ok?” she asked.

There were a few groans, so not everyone was dead, but the lack of definitive answers meant there were enough serious injuries. If they couldn’t heal themselves fast enough, they’d be picked off by the security forces.

She moved to the girl closest to her. The girl’s head was turned at an unnatural angle and her eyes were open and empty.

Her name had been Tamara. Like most of the team, she’d been an orphan—a soul lost in a system become more chaotic and neglectful after the Cataclysm. But Tamara had considered herself one of the lucky ones. Two years after the Pantheon took “stewardship” of the world, they’d discovered the side effect Fuyuko’s father’s formula had on non-Anunnaki—that it could awaken latent powers. Those empowered by the formula were allowed to serve in Quetzalcoatl’s army. The orphan was given a home, three meals, training, and a purpose. She’d just celebrated her twenty-first birthday two weeks ago.

Fuyuko gently pressed the girl’s eyelids closed.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

One more failure. Another life to mourn.

The others were still alive, and thankfully, conscious enough to use the Veil to heal themselves.

Fuyuko pulled herself free from the wreck, brushing shards of glass from her clothes and flesh.

She expected a gun battle to be raging between the occupants of the garbage truck and the front SUV, but for a moment, a cocoon of silence had enveloped them. She ran to the front SUV but stopped as a distant
whup-whup-whup
disturbed the quiet.

She returned to her original SUV. The first sustained a harder hit, but crushed between the garbage truck and building, it was a less open target than her SUV lying in the middle of the road. The sound in the distance could only be attack choppers. They’d proven to be too successful at dealing with land attacks. Anubis’ forces were resorting to other less manageable tactics.

Fuyuko summoned her spear from the Veil and carved the side off the SUV.

“Come on,” she said, “you’ve got to get out. We have inbound choppers. Move!”

Toms was still belted in, hanging upside down in the front seat. He looked at her with the barest of comprehensions. The other two, a man named Carlos and a girl named Sylvia, scrambled free from the wreck. Fuyuko went in, using her combat knife to cut Toms free, and dragged him out.