Undead Chaos (24 page)

Alexander bowed his head. “I shall do so with pleasure, my lord.” He swung the blade toward his charge and leveled the tip at the boy’s throat. “Give me a reason,” he snarled.

The kid’s eyes went wide and he blinked rapidly.

I grabbed Quinn by the hand. “Come on.”

We left the armorer and hurried through the door to the shooting range. As we passed one of the lockers, a smallish weapon caught my attention, and I was overcome with inspiration. The door wasn’t locked since the contents were nonlethal, so I pulled the item out.

“What good is that?” Quinn asked as I popped the lid off the ammunition chamber and dumped the entire bag of Focal Stones inside.

“Longer range.” I closed the lid to the paintball gun. “Plus, it ensures I won’t lose the stones.”

“You also won’t be able to choose which element to use.”

“True, but I’m guessing if we’re down to this little guy, we’re in a hurt locker.”

She smiled. “You enjoy being clever, don’t you?”

“It happens so rarely that I relish the moments when I am.”

Quinn rolled her eyes and turned toward our exit. We ran down the range where I’d butchered thousands of paper targets over the years and around the thick metal stop at the back. Just as the armorer promised, there was a small wooden door with a rusty handle on the wall. It creaked as we opened it, and inside we found the ancient wooden dumbwaiter. It was only large enough to carry one person at a time and even then, it would be cramped.

“Now what?” Quinn asked.

“Ladies first?” I offered.

Chapter Twenty

Chaotic Quaos

My arms were burning by the time I hauled myself into the kitchen. Quinn was light, but the pulleys for the dumbwaiter were old and rusty, and I exerted much more energy than I’d hoped getting her topside. It took several minutes to lift her all the way up and another minute to get the dumbwaiter back down.

Even with Quinn’s help from above, it took longer for me to reach the kitchen. I was a good deal heavier than when we’d showed up thanks to the two swords, pistol, assault rifle, tons of ammo and paintball gun. By the time I unfolded myself from the shaft, my arms were shaking and my back and legs were stiff. I leaned against the counter and gasped for breath.

“You’re pale,” Quinn said, her face lined with concern. “Maybe we should rest.

I shook my head. “We can’t afford to stop. That little venture took almost ten minutes. The quicker we’re away from here, the better.”

“You were serious about running, then?” Quinn asked.

“Yes.” I rubbed my temples, trying desperately to ease the pounding in my skull. When I looked up, there was disappointment in Quinn’s eyes.

“I don’t want to do this,” I added softly. “This is my
home
and these idiots are killing people I’ve known my whole life. I want nothing more than to stay and fight, but it’s too dangerous. There were a lot of agents outside the barrier, and we have no idea how many got inside before it went up. Besides, the family is well armed and I have faith that the folks can handle things without us.”

Quinn sighed. “I know. I just wish there was something we could do to help.”

“We
are
helping. We’re getting this stupid thing away from these morons. This isn’t cowardice—it’s making a difficult, yet tactically advantageous decision. It sucks, but it’s the best solution.”

Quinn still seemed skeptical, but I was grateful that she accepted my reasoning. She glanced around the room and shivered. “People cleared out of here in a hurry.”

I nodded. The kitchen smelled of burnt cookies and scorched pot roast. Pans and appliances were scattered across every horizontal surface, and several large pots were overflowing with boiling water. I turned off the gas stove and made a quick check to ensure nothing else was on before returning to Quinn’s side.

I held my hand out to her. “Let’s see how things are going out there,” She allowed me to pull her toward the nearest window.

The battle outside was still raging, but it was difficult to tell which side was winning. Several large craters were gouged into the lawn, the fires from which still smoldered around the edges. Through the smoke and haze I could see at least two family guards and half a dozen agents motionless in the grass. Muted gunfire could be heard through the glass, and occasionally a spell or tracer round stitched across our field of view.

I pointed. “The kitchen faces west, which means it’s on the opposite side of the Homestead from the well. It would be faster to travel outside, but we may want to stay indoors.”

“Quaos has already penetrated the house,” Quinn said.

“True, but I know this place better than they do. If we move silently, we should be able to avoid them.”

Approaching footsteps echoed in the kitchen, so I pulled Quinn behind one of the counters. I peeked around and leveled the assault rifle on the door. My heart raced and a moment later, three figures slipped into the room.

They were dressed in black combat uniforms with red trim, complete with riot helmets. Each carried a snub-nosed machine gun with a silencer attached to the barrel. Red piping of the family colors lined the hard edges of the men. Their names were stenciled over the left chest piece, and the Shifter crest was stamped on the right shoulder pad. They moved with precision, clearing the doorway before entering the room.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

The Shifters were one of the few Skilled families that still employed Normal guards. Most of them were descendants of men and women who had offered Blood Oaths generations ago. These days, however, they worked for us out of dedication and the fantastic medical benefits we provided rather than the threat of death. Some people questioned Dad for still using them, but trust me, what they lacked in Skill they more than made up for in high-powered weaponry.

“Hi, guys,” I said quietly. The point-man spun around and aimed his weapon at me. I had a full second to stare at the muzzle before he lowered the gun.

“Master Marcus,” the guard replied. “Good to see you.”

I glanced at his name tag. “Hey, Santiago. Boy, are we glad to run into you guys. This is Quinn, by the way,” I added. “We got here after the Barrier went up. What’s the situation?”

“The attack was sudden. We estimate they got at least a hundred men inside the perimeter before the barrier activated. The rest are still locked outside.”

“How’s the battle going?”

“Hard to say,” Santiago said. “We’ve had a hell of a time dealing with them. Their tactics are random and erratic, which makes it tough to adjust our own. For the most part, they seem hell-bent on causing as much destruction as humanly possible.”

“Casualties?”

“We’ve accounted for at least ten enemies neutralized with three of our own down.”

Anger burned in my chest, reenergizing my tired muscles. “What about house staff?”

“As far as we know, all noncombatants made it to their assigned safe rooms.”

My shoulders relaxed a little. Warriors were one thing, but killing innocents was something else entirely.

Quaos had murdered two people while I’d been powerless to help. That was more than enough blood on their hands for my taste without adding people like Carl, Frank and Cornelius to the list. They might not be kin, but they’d been a part of my life for decades, and I considered them to be family.

“How about my folks?” I asked cautiously.

“Last I heard they were dealing with the majority of enemy forces near the western perimeter. A handful got past them, so your father dispatched a squad to bat cleanup.”

I nodded. That sounded like my father. “We ran into some bad guys in the armory. We took care of a few, but there were an unknown number still coming down the stairwell.”

“Is the armory safe?” Santiago asked.

“For now. The enemy was able to blast the door open, but we sealed it up tight. Alexander is down there with a survivor. When this is all over, we’ll need to dig them out.”

“And the enemy in the stairwell?”

“Likely still trying to beat their way in.”

The guard spoke into a communications unit hooked on his chest piece. He gave several sharp orders, then turned back to me.

“Men are on the way.” The combatant shook his head. “We still don’t know who they are or why they attacked.”

“We spent a little quality time with them, so I can help with that info. They call themselves the Agents of Quaos and want to create harmony between the Skilled and Normal worlds by causing apocalyptic destruction. Unity through strife and all that garbage.”

“Why here?”

“No idea,” I lied.

Santiago regarded me through his darkened visor. “How’d you get out of the armory if it’s sealed tight?”

I winked. “Sorry. Trade secret.”

“Understood,” he said, accepting my secrecy with loyal understanding. “Anything we can help you with?”

“We need to get to the well exit.” I didn’t want to say, “Because we are running away,” but thankfully Santiago didn’t ask why.

Santiago nodded. “We’ll cover you.”

“We’d appreciate it.”

“Right,” he replied in a tone that suggested I’d just issued them a set of orders. “Don’t know if you’ve seen it yet, but the North Wing is on fire. The smoke it pretty thick, so we’d better avoid it. The next closest exit toward the well is the main entrance. Since the majority of the fighting is along the western perimeter, we should face minimal resistance. You all ready to go?”

Quinn and I gave the man a thumbs-up. Santiago swapped magazines and, realizing I’d expended a lot of rounds in the armory, I did the same. The guard made a series of complex hand motions to his men, and the three instantly formed a protective barrier around Quinn and me.

“They always like this?” she asked as we exited the kitchen.

“Pretty much.” I leaned in, speaking softly into her ear. “Most of these guys are from Normal families that have been guarding Shifters for generations. Those that are not direct descendants are handpicked from the military to wear the family colors. Believe me, they take their jobs seriously. Short of the Marines, they are the toughest fighters on the planet.”

Quinn glanced at the trio. “Why didn’t you tell them about the sword? Don’t you trust them?”

“Yes,” I whispered, “but there are a lot of things that aren’t common knowledge. Somehow Quaos knew Hexcalibur was here, so until we figure out how, I’m keeping mum.”

Our guards escorted us down the hall and slowed so they could clear the next corridor. Santiago held up his hand and our group stopped. He motioned to his men, who each took a knee and eased their weapons around the corner. One of the men’s weapons kicked with a “pop-pop” sound. A moment later there were two thumps.

Santiago’s man gave a thumbs-up and motioned everyone forward.

We rounded the corner and stepped over the bodies of two Quaos agents. Each had taken a round in the skull and lay with eyes wide open on the hard surface.

Poor bastards. They never knew what hit them.

Footsteps thundered down the hallway, and a squad of guards zipped past in the direction of the armory. A heartbeat later the sounds of muted gunfire echoed off the walls. I flinched at the report of high-powered rifles.

As we maneuvered past the guard’s strongpoint, I paused momentarily to watch the firefight. The guards poured ammunition down the stairwell with what sounded like lethal accuracy, but the return fire was horrific, preventing them from advancing. Spells shot upward and blew chucks of wood and stone from the walls. Men ducked and maneuvered, struggling to position themselves for the best tactical advantage.

A spell of green flame winged one of the guards, liquefying the armor pad over his shoulder. He dropped to his knees, cursing as he scrambled to yank the melting Kevlar off. Another guard pulled a large knife from his vest and slashed the thick straps that held the pad in place. Together the men ripped off the entire armor vest and tossed it aside as it turned into burning jelly. The wounded guard immediately grabbed his weapon and reengaged the enemy.

The entire process took less than ten seconds.

I stared at the guards, awed by their courage and determination. These were Normals who lacked the Skill of their enemy, yet they seemed unfazed by the superior firepower they were facing.

Something snapped in the back of my mind and I ground my teeth together.

“One sec,” I told Santiago. He stopped the men and I marched over to where the guards were stationed.

“Master Marcus?” one of them asked. I nodded as I unslung the paintball gun and walked passed. Without slowing, I raised my weapon and fired four Focal Stones down the stairwell. The magic marbles arced from the gun and slammed into the stairs below. Upon impact each exploded with Skillful violence. Two small hurricanes, a large stone missile and, much to my delight, a huge blue fireball bounded the remainder of the way to the bottom. Blue light flared, illuminating several bodies. Screams erupted from the darkness below, but were silenced seconds later by the rush of elemental fury.

“Have fun,” I said to the guards. They paused just long enough to assess the situation, then poured a frightening wall of lead as they descended into the darkness. Surviving agents returned fire, but with far less enthusiasm than before.

I left the guards to their mission and stomped back to my escorts. Santiago looked at the paintball gun, then back to me.

“Can I have one of those?” he asked.

“Talk to Alexander when this is all over.”

“Right,” the guard replied, then gave the signal for us to move.

The rest of the trek to the front entrance was without incident. Santiago continually updated us on the fight outside, talking in a low voice in case Quaos was near. Reports indicated that there were still a large number of bad guys running amok, but the majority of the enemy had been pushed back to the tree line.

Apparently my father was leading the fight, but the resistance was heavy.

We arrived at the front door, and Santiago creaked it open. Satisfied that we were clear, he nodded to the two men, who zipped outdoors. We followed a second later and dove behind the hedges that ran along the perimeter of the house. The group inched along behind the hedges until we arrived at the edge of the house.

I spotted the well in the distance. “There it is. How are we doing?”

“Not great, but not awful,” Santiago replied, scanning the area around us. “I can see enemy movement in a few places, but for the most part I think you’re clear. We’ll stick with you to the well.”

“Thank you.” I turned to Quinn. “Mind another round of concealment?”

She nodded and closed her eyes, drawing power from the drifting smoke around us. A moment later the eyes opened and for the first time I realized the irises were swirling pools of gray.

“Whenever you’re ready,” she said in a sultry voice.

I studied the activity around us. When I felt things were clear enough, I gave her a signal. Her hands jerked outward and rockets of light spewed forth. The beams impacted the ground between us and the well like Hollywood bullets from an airplane. Smoke exploded, creating another tunnel-like clearing.

We were on the move the second the smoke ignited. One of the guards took point, vaulting into the tunnel like a puma. We ran hard to keep up, sprinting for all we were worth. An enemy agent could be seen through the haze, but Santiago’s man dropped him without slowing down.

As we approached the well something detonated in front of our group with the force of an artillery round. I was thrown backward, landing heavily on the lawn. The stitches in my shoulder popped, and I felt warm blood ooze from the reopened wound.

My head swam and the world around me was muted, as if I were trying to listen to it underwater. My ears throbbed, ringing in pain. I tried to stand, but was only able to make it onto all fours. I grunted as the weight on my wrist sent bolts of sharp pain up my arm.