Division Zero: Lex De Mortuis (19 page)

“You do not seem confident.” Vikram risked a brief peek.

Kirsten did not take her eyes away from the floating azure dot of her gun sight. Vendomat and gun traded blurriness. “I’m not entirely sure what I’m dealing with here; ghost bullets aren’t supposed to break things, just cause pain.” She shifted her aim to the right, and fired at Icarus.

A diving roll put him behind the wall of a gadget store, leaving a glowing patch of plastisteel where Kirsten’s laser scored the floor. Dorian roared and charged, his gun vanished and reappeared in the holster as he leapt through the vendomat. A heavy thud echoed through the vacant concourse, and he came sliding into the open on top of Seneschal.

“Stay here, stay down.” Kirsten leapt up and ran, tossing the E-90 to her left hand.

Icarus popped out at the sound of squeaking boots, aimed at Kirsten, but hesitated. Grimacing, he fired a few shots into the ground to her side, forcing her to slide into cover behind a metal-walled planter. Seneschal locked eyes with Dorian; a second later, his fist flew up and caught him across the cheek. Dorian flew vertical, a dozen feet in the air from the force, his head stretched backward like a warping hologram. Seneschal dispersed into a cloud of mist and reappeared on his feet.

A thread of azure light lanced through Seneschal’s thigh as he reached for his rifle. Kirsten’s laser burned an ash channel through his leg, bringing forth a roar of pain and a glare. The massive shotgun pivoted on the ground and flew into its master’s arms, pointed at her.

Dorian came down on top of him, screaming, stunrod across the man’s throat. The shotgun took two lights off the ceiling as it went off in mid takedown. No longer holding back, Dorian crushed the manifestation of his baton into Seneschal’s neck as he flipped him over and landed on top of his back. Icarus swiveled aim to Dorian, but ducked when Kirsten melted a spritz of plastisteel out of the wall by his face.

Taking the opportunity, she ran across a large oval planter surrounded by benches and vendomats. Three steps through dirt, and she leapt a bench on the other side. Calling the astral lash in midair, her boots touched down just as the tip hit Seneschal in the back of the head. It tugged, feeling like a swung blade stuck for a moment in gelatin, before it pulled free and passed through the floor.

Dorian leaned away from her attack, barely containing the primal urge to flee from such a thing. Seneschal’s scream melted into a roar as his eyes lit crimson with the fires of the Abyss.

Vikram screamed. Kirsten whirled, finding Mariko having come out of nowhere, sword rammed through his back. The little Japanese woman grinned with sinister glee. A veil of darkness clung to her face and her eyes burned red.

She enjoyed causing pain.

The dead hacker gaped at the shiny blade sticking through his gut, whimpering. Kirsten whirled and took a second to aim. The sword jerked free, raised for another stroke. She fired. The beam caught Mariko in the face, melting her nose into a hollow and starting a fire in her mouth. The corporate ninja stumbled a step to the rear, less hurt than appearance would dictate. Mariko shook it off, her face filled in; smoke peeled from her nostrils.

With a wail, Vikram dove through the ground out of sight. Mariko hissed at Kirsten, a snarl so feral and deep it did not sound human. The once-woman circled to the side, spindly limbs elongated and narrow, her lithe body shrouded in black fumes. Kirsten raised the lash, coiling it behind her. Mariko shrank away from the light with a hiss and darted off to the south. As if some kind of human-headed spider, she leapt from monorail to monorail, out over a dozen parallel tracks. Kirsten shrieked from a sensation similar to a bucket of ice water hitting her in the back. Dorian flew through her, thrown by Seneschal. Before she broke free of the paralytic cold, he vanished through the floor. Kirsten spun to the rear, just in time for Seneschal’s hand to grab her around the throat and lift her off her feet.

Eyes bulging, she gurgled. The touch of his hand burned; her kicks passed harmless through a body solid only where he wanted it to be. Icarus nodded at Seneschal, lifted his rifle, and sank through the platform, chasing either Dorian or Vikram. Seneschal pulled her in close, bright eyes burning with hatred. The same aura of dread Harbingers carried was on him―the taint of the Abyss. She shuddered from her proximity to evil.

He slid a large handgun out from under his coat, raising it to her forehead. “You are a pain in the ass. Welcome to the world of acceptable collateral damage.”

The lash, driven by fear, swatted Seneschal into the air. He careened in an arc, a living dart, before landing on his head and sliding a few feet. Momentum carried his body over and he fell flat on his chest. She rubbed her neck, thankful not to feel the tenderness of a real burn. His touch caused pain in the mind, not trauma to the flesh.

Kirsten charged at him, taking two steps and bringing the energy whip down again. Seneschal rolled onto his back, catching it. He held the stream of brilliance; his eyes brightened and he roared with agony. The flesh of his fingers boiled and bubbled. Bones glowed beneath the skin. Kirsten forced more power into it, left hand grabbing her wrist for support as she pushed down. The anger in his eyes flickered to fear for an instant; his grip on the spectral weapon faltered. The tip swished like the tail of a cat, perilously close to his face.

She screamed through clenched teeth, trying to power her way through this contest of wills. Just as she felt his grip failing, he dissipated in a cloud of ink black vapor. The sudden lack of resistance sent her stumbling to her knees. The tendril faded, she panted for breath. Spreading, the cloud that had been Seneschal expanded into a wide field, drawn through the gaps between the floor tiles.

Gunfire erupted outside, as if an entire platoon participated in a firing squad. The sound snapped her out of her fatigue and she ran to the stairs. A row of Division 1 officers fired with wild abandon at something beneath the platform, nine weapons creating a rapid strobe in blue muzzle flash. She ran most of the way down the steps before leaping over the railing and landing in a three-point crouch below the stairs. Seneschal stalked through the dark underside of the PubTran station, phasing through fences and wire conduits. Bullets winked through him as tiny points of light, insignificant holes closing as fast as they appeared. He did not even bother to look back.

“Ugh,” Dorian moaned.

“Stop firing, you’re doing nothing!” she shouted at her forearm guard; the comm made her voice much louder in their helmets.

The barrage trickled to a few isolated shots, the sound of a firecracker petering out to the last few charges. When quiet returned, she ran to Dorian, finding him on his back. He did not appear wounded, rather tired.

“Dorian.” She slid to a halt by his side, kneeling. Willing herself tangible to the astral world, she cradled his hand. “What happened? Are you okay?”

He squeezed her fingers, calming her. “Just tired; they beat the snot out of me. Gonna take a while to recover, but I’m okay. I can maybe handle one of them, but two at once, no way. They’re too strong.”

“But they’ve only been dead for a few months.”

“They’re not ghosts, K. They’re… something else.”

“Yeah, I guess so. I have to find Vikram before they do. They’re going to obliterate him.”

“Poor guy.” He struggled to sit up. “Too bad there’s not enough left of him to use the trick Ritchie showed you.”

Lights flooded into the chain link darkness, Kirsten held a hand over her eyes as Division 1 officers approached behind their guns. “Everything all right down here, ma’am?”

A male officer lifted his visor. “Umm, are you okay?”

“Zeroes talk to themselves sometimes,” said his partner.

“What happened here? Did you find anything?” A sergeant stowed her weapon and approached, hesitating at the sight of Kirsten’s posture appearing to hug nothing.

“I’ll be in the car,” Dorian wheezed, and his body faded out of sight, voice lingering. “I need a nap.” Pale luminescent fog crept among the weeds, through the chain-link fence, and past the legs of the street cops.

Kirsten stood, wiping dirt from her hands as she surveyed the distant cavern full of power cables and fencing. “Yeah, I found something. I’m just not sure what it is.”

irsten gazed into the sky, catching herself picking out the ad-bots displaying kid furniture, clothing, and certain electronic games. They coursed overhead, the blood of the city moving in veins defined by pre-programmed flight paths. Her fork nudged the vindaloo around the plate. Thinking of Evan made the advert droids seem less lonely, less as if they offered a window into a life that she was not good enough for.

The patrol craft waited just past a squat ridge of plastisteel separating the open-air café from the sidewalk. Three feet tall, the eighteen-inch-thick barricade was theoretically able to stop a ground vehicle moving at ninety miles per hour. Not that anyone could drive at that speed on the ground here to begin with. There was too much traffic, too many red signals.

Dorian had spent the rest of yesterday out of sight, and so far this morning had not shown up. Kirsten felt his presence during the ride, wondering how long it took a ghost to “sleep” their way back to full strength. The chicken went down slow, just a little too spicy for her to race through. A man two tables away gazed into nowhere, his head and hand moving as if in a silent conversation. Thin silver wire stranded from behind his ear into a NetMini tucked alongside his plate. She imagined her dad’s voice saying
implanted comm whatevers
, and let out a soft laugh.

A citycam ball mounted to the corner of the building ceased its endless panning, fixating on her. She set a piece of chicken between her teeth and pulled her fork out, staring at the orb of smoky glass. Seconds passed. She bit down, chewing. It continued pointing right at her.

Bet one of the techs is checking me out.

The camera disregarded, she continued her lunch and tried to sort out her current mess.
Okay, got a ghost who used to be a network security guy. Lyris Corporation sends a hit squad to take him out, everyone dies in a blast. Somehow, these assassins escape the Abyss and continue their original mission. What am I missing?

“Mmm.” She exuded contentment as a sip of her mango lassi put out the spice fire in her mouth. As she went to set it down, she froze, staring at a ring of condensation on the table from the cold cup.
The circle.

Liquid bounced out of the glass as it landed hard.
Of course. Find who made the circle, and I’ll know what the hell is going on.

Loud rumbling pulled her attention into the street. A shot-up, battered, and rusting van creaked to a halt alongside the café, stopping right in the traffic lane. The image of a grim reaper had been autobrushed on the side; two copper coins perched upon a tongue that protruded through the teeth of the skull beneath the hood. Electricity sizzled around the front left wheel motor, as if one more bump would spell its demise. The driver door opened in time with the sound of a mechanized sliding door on the far side. The man who emerged from the driver’s seat had overdone it on black eyeliner, but otherwise had taken little care toward matters of personal hygiene. Belt-long hair, blackened by a substance never intended to be cosmetic dye, clung to him as he stared wild-eyed at Kirsten. His torn pseudo-leather vest covered a stained white shirt, as well as a pair of submachine guns. He gawked at her like a rutting bull about to charge.