17:00, Rome time. It has already been dark in Hong Kong for seven hours. A bad time to go calling on a demon nest. They are at their most active at night. And their hungriest. Look around at the team. Luis, del Toro, Franco. Seraphina. Hong, still shaky after the last round, but game for another run. I didn't want him, it is too soon after the shock of last time, but he is the most experienced One. Wickham has his mop up team ready. A few new recruits, and looking far more sombre than last time, but they are ready.
“Right, we know we are mainly facing War Lyches and ghouls this time. Primary strike team will immobilise as a priority, using silver darts. I don't want to see a single banishment unless it is absolutely necessary to save your, or more far importantly, my ass. We go in, we kill everything there.”
Nod to Hong. “You, my friend, have one job, and one job only. Protect Seraphina from any demon that tries to bother her. We need her to gain information – that means she stays alive and in one piece. That is your duty – can you do it? There is a report of buruburu in there.”
He swallows hard. “Yes. I can.” Glance round. “Jones, you are Hong's backup. Concentrate on nothing but your job. And remember, you are looking after my wife. She gets hurt, I will skin you both. Slowly.” I am not joking, they can tell. Lower my hand to Flash's head and give her ears a quick tug.
Nod to Reg. “Lets do this.” Gentle thrum through the floor, as the wormhole stabilises. Draw Pain, and go through at a dead run, the best damned team a guy could want at my side. Straight into the nearest thing to hell you can find on this planet.
* * *
Sergei drifts silently down the least travelled corridors of the Vatican. Implants sending the right signals to the automated defences and monitors, courtesy of Cat and Margareta. Cat is of course aware I have borrowed his security codes, Margareta, possibly not, though she has the Guard's professional paranoia and should alt least suspect. I am looking for one specific room. One which has only been described to me, and seen through a demon's eyes. And there are 20 million rooms in the Free State. Sounds like a search for a needle in a haystack, but there are many places where the room cannot be. They cannot hide a summoning circle in the industrial or residential sections. It is far too dangerous in terms of being disturbed or losing control. It must be in the old core of the Vatican, from the time before much of the digging started. Risky to hunt for, getting very close to high traffic areas where everyone knows everyone else, but the obvious first place to look. And with the combination of early evening and a clearing mission going out, there should be enough privacy to hunt in peace.
Shake a small box out of a sleeve pocket. A little energy detector Enrique has provided, that spots wormhole signatures. If nothing else comes of this, the meeting with Enrique has proved a golden opportunity to meet a true genius in his field. One who also thinks technological challenges are there to be defeated. Detector signals up and left. Pointing at dispatch again. Double check, no, the dispatch wormhole is being ignored. So our mystery man, with his secret room, is somewhere below Dispatch. Head in that direction. The hunt is on.
* * *
Take six steps through the wormhole and stop. That is standard drill, ingrained to an almost instinctive level in hunters. If I had done that, I'd be dead. They were waiting for me. So I carried on charging. Swinging Pain so fast that the glitter of light from her in the dim room looks almost like a shield in front of me. Franco immediately behind me, firing silver bolts from his crossbow, pinning demons in place for the coup de gras. Not pure silver, of course, but an unholy amalgam of silver, lithium, depleted uranium, titanium and mercury. It hurts the demons like hell and distracts them for long enough for me to lop off their head while they scream and flail. Head shot kills them, but with this many, I'll settle for anything I can reach. Legs, arms, wings, all go flying off in a haze of ichor and destruction. Just trying to clear a space for the rest of the team to enter. Flash is leaping around like she has been at the catnip again. Claw this one, pull that one off balance, avoid the thirds claws. We are not really talking at the moment – instead, on some deep level we are the same being, simply in two bodies. A crump and flare of sunlight announces that Seraphina and Hong have arrived. She has the job of keeping the sun grenades going and trying to spot the Soul Eater in the chaos. Spin, split a demon from crotch to chin. Spin back and remove the heads of two more. Enough room now. The whole team is in. Keep fighting, a pulse of rage in my mind. The entire team is pinning demons with silver bolts. And occasional burst of dust as one gets too close and gets banished. A buruburu drifts towards Hong, its old woman's face malevolent, fear pouring off her in waves. He calmly shoots it between the eyes. As it screams and writhes in agony, I skip forward and take its head from it's shoulders with one casual flick of Pain, the back swing removing most of a ghoul's face and both sets of claws. Glance at him. He has the look of a man in a nightmare, but determined to do his job. Aims and fires his crossbow. The bolt skims between my right arm and ribcage and hits a War Lych dead center in the chest. As it squalls and starts flailing around, he winks at me, reloads, and sends the next bolt quite a way downrange.* * *
Two levels below dispatch. An old part of the Vatican, dressed stone instead of pre stressed concrete. According to the detector, the room should be around the next bend. Slow down. A technician on a late call out, who would far rather be somewhere else. Round the bend. One guy in sight, loitering with no obvious purpose. No doors in the walls at all. So, concealed room. Interesting. Guy looks like muscle. His principal must be in the room. Give an incurious look as I walk past. Not interested, but anything to break the monotony of an evening inspection run. Implants scan the walls undetectably. Better be totally undetectable, the price I paid for them. Though the black market is hardly a place to claim on any guarantees. Carry on walking. Another bend and an alcove. Remove the service access panel. Scatter some tools and spare parts around the alcove. Then lean back. Blank out the sensors around me, then fire up the phone, it is worth the risk
“Margareta, corridor 27 alpha, segment 32. What do you read?”
“One occupant. Personal data restricted, unavailable without override.” He briefly considers giving her the override code. The one it had taken him all of twenty seconds to find, once he got into the system. No, not yet. “Where are you? You are not showing on any monitors.” She sounds edgy. Someone who's life has been devoted to security should not have her nose rubbed in security holes so abruptly.
“Am one sector down, and if I am showing on the monitors, it is time for me to retire. Inform me when the current corridor occupant leaves.” Just in case, he reaches into the access hatch and slaps an induction pickup onto the direct monitor feeds. Totally undetectable. And insurance. Then he waits. And waits.
* * *
Working steadily forward, Flash in and out, dancing from almost between my legs to about 5 meters in front of me, snapping, biting, clawing and retreating again. We are one. Not sure which of us said that. Franco, steady as a rock, two paces behind me. Down to his last pouch of bolts. Wickham sends a runner up with more bolts. The runner simply snaps the pouches to Franco's belt. No words, no wasted motion. Squawks and ducks as a clawed hand the size of a shovel swipes at him. Lazy back swipe of Pain deals with that particular problem. Flick Pain, clear the blood. Glance back and right. “Anything yet, 'Phina?” Face front again just in time to dodge a set of spines. Sheer them off with one swing, remove the demons head with the return. Arm is getting tired. Really need to spend more time in the gym.
“Not yet. Move more towards the left. There is something there.” Grunt of effort as she spins, then high kicks a ghoul. Its head flies past me, a very confused, almost human, look in its eyes. Remind me never to piss her off. It's body totters on for two steps, hunting for its head, then I split it in half and it collapses.
“Cat, Luis. Run the numbers of kills here and you should have cleared this hall by now. Every one you kill is being replaced. There is a wormhole here somewhere.” So, it is a trap, as I had half expected.
“Call Margareta. Tell her now would be a really good time for a bomb drill.” Panting. Even enhanced hunters get tired, eventually. Quick flick of thought to 'Phina. “Now”
We hit our red buttons at the same time.
* * *
The shrill of the sirens echoed down the corridors. Sergei snaps to full alertness. Voice in his ear.
“Hong Kong was a trap. Our enemy is sending additional demons through to try to crush the strike team. Bomb alert should pull him out, everyone has their post for that, no excuses accepted.”
He grunts. “May as well make it real. There is a bomb in the grand foyer, three meters up on the third pillar from the throne. Cut the red wire to deactivate.”
Silence for a second. “I don't even want to know how you got a real bomb into the Free State, never mind the most secure part of it. And after this, if I see you within twenty kilometres of the Free State, I will shoot you on general principles.” That's a relief. Thought she was going to shoot me now. She sounds upset. Really, really upset.
He triggers the override code as a second person suddenly appears in the corridor beside the muscle. Full reading on implants on both of them. Heading this way. Jump, spread eagle and hold against the ceiling. A command through his implants and his inbuilt holo generator reproduces the ceiling color and texture, concealing him completely. The pair pass, oblivious. Give them two minutes to get out of range. Drop, race down the corridor to the blank stone wall. Implants, and eyes honed by years of experience, probe the wall. There. The door. Trigger direct link.
“Cat. Found the room. Shall I enter?”
Pause. Hear Cat's breathing, ragged and hoarse. That from a guy that can run a two minute mile without breaking a sweat.
“No. It will need some special skills to shut down the Portal. Just make sure no one can enter again until we are ready.”
“Destruction in a good cause. You know me far too well. Sergei out.” This will be fun.
* * *
Sweating. Tired as hell. Covered in demon ichor, which stinks to high heaven and burns slightly on the skin. Watching the support crew pulling silver bolts out of demon corpses. Every once in a while, a raised hand indicates a suspiciously whole demon, and I have to hobble over and give it a trim. Nearly always a ghoul. They go cataleptic sometimes when they are injured, and can come out of it rapidly and incredibly violently. The tally is one hundred and eighty three, plus assorted pieces. No sign of the Soul Eater, and it cannot have escaped. It was never here. This was simply a trap.
“Gather round team.” My voice is husky. Really need to stop screaming when I attack. It helps me strike, sure, but plays hell with the throat. Look around. Some damage to most of them, yes, but everyone is alive.
“In two days we are doing the same again with another nest. Two days after that, another.” They look confident. Tired, sure, but confident that they can take anything hell has to throw at them. “One of those nests will hold the Soul Eater. Anyone wants out, tell me tomorrow.”
Wickham shakes his head. “Hundred eighty three demons dead. Fourteen banished. Figure I'll stick around. Maybe next time we can break two hundred.” Nods.
I smile. Even that is painful. “Right, lets go home. Spa in one hour. Beers are on me.”
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