Nadja was running her hands up and down Ryan’s body now, his back, his chest, his abdomen. Moving down toward his crotch. She stopped as her hands passed over the bulge of the Dragon Heart, tucked into its sash.
She gave a little laugh as she rubbed it. She leaned in, putting her lips next to his ear. Whispering, “Is that a Dragon Heart in your pocket, or are you just glad to see me?”
Ryan could hold back no longer. He kissed her neck, his hands traveling down her back, running over her slender hips. So tight. His fingertips following the natural curves of her body. Onto her front, smooth skin of her belly and up over the gentle swell of her breasts inside her blouse. Soft, sensitive.
In the growing darkness, her hand brushed his crotch. Her lips sealed over his.
He wanted her.
She pulled back slightly. “How long until you have to go?”
“I wish I didn’t have to,” he said.
“How long?”
“About an hour before I have to start serious preparations.”
She smiled, her tongue running over her teeth. “Plenty of time,” she said. “Come on, there’s got to be a guest bedroom in this place somewhere.”
Ryan laughed, then adjusted his pants so he could follow without too much discomfort.
The ritual chamber in the basement of the San Marcos
teocalli
flickered in the torch light as Lethe watched the eif mage, Meyer, and two others prepare for the ritual magic that would banish him. Lethe could almost smell the magic forming in the thick air, like soapy incense.
Meyer dribbled blood from a tiny bladder covered in animal skin, tracing an elaborate circle around Billy’s body, which had been shackled into the stone floor with titanium straps. The other mages inscribed runes and symbols into the blood circle. One was a human woman with dark skin and black hair. She wore a temple robe, and looked to be a priestess of Quetzalcoatl. The other was an ork man, who drew symbols with chalk, hulking down awkwardly in his corporate suit and tie.
Lethe didn’t know exactly what would happen if these mages succeeded in forcing him from Billy’s body, but his spirit was intertwined with Billy’s now.
The magic will probably kill us both.
Lethe reached out for the Locus, trying to use it to stabilize him. But it was distant, his connection to it weak. His
access was blocked by the barrier at the perimeter of the
ritual circle and the magical background, the polluted astral space that came from all the corrupt magic that had been performed inside the temple over the years.
The woman and the ork let Meyer trace the primary lines, but they continued to add touches to the circle, chalked words and splashes of paint. Gathering their power in song and art as they prepared to focus it upon Lethe. He knew what was coming, and merely hoped he’d be strong enough.
As the power of the spell grew around him, he struggled to move Billy’s body, to pull it free of his restraints. He exerted all of his will, but the arms and legs would not budge. Billy was unconscious again, due to a drug injection, which would normally have allowed Lethe some measure of control over the body. But all Billy’s cybernetic parts had been deactivated by the dwarf technician with the remote control. The tech stood just outside the ritual circle, watching the proceedings with disinterest. Even if Billy had been awake, they’d be unable to move.
Time for a little magical attack,
Lethe thought. He’d learned how to do telekinetic magic by watching Ryan Mercury, and he’d even used it once when Billy had had the Dragon Heart. Lethe had thrown Ryan Mercury’s body several meters into the fire sprinklers, saving the human’s life.
Can I do it without the Dragon Heart?
With a thought Lethe flung mana at Meyer, focusing the energy into a telekinetic thrust. The thrust hit Meyer, but it was much weaker than Lethe expected. His imprisonment inside Billy had weakened him immeasurably. The blow merely knocked Meyer’s hand and made him flinch slightly.
“Frag!” Meyer yelled. “Who did that?” His vision went astral and he looked directly at Lethe. “I see you now, my meddling spirit. And I will get rid of you.” The elf stood up, and with a heavy sigh, he proceeded to redraw the arc of the circle he'd been working on.
It’s not much,
Lethe thought,
but it is something.
He proceeded to use his telekinetic push on each of the mages, practicing to get better and better at it.
He knocked their hands as they painted, blew out their candles, and was generally a pain in the hoop. He knew he wasn’t going to stop them from completing the ritual circle and casting their spell, but he could slow them down.
He could slot them off.
If they got sufficiently angry and distracted, perhaps they’d make a mistake.
Perhaps they would miscast their spell.
It was a small hope, but he clung to it. He kept at it because he knew it was his only chance.
Without it, he would soon be no more than shreds of a tattered spirit blowing on the astral breeze. Dead and disrupted.
26 August 2057
Five hours after leaving Nadja and her guards with Jane Foster and Aina, Ryan and the rest of the Assets team touched down in Fort Worth. The Texas night air hung hot and dry around Ryan as he emerged from the Draco Foundation Lear-Cessna Platinum III and looked out across the tarmac of the abandoned airstrip. Carswell Air Force Base was generally dead, though smugglers used it as a hub of operations for refueling and storage, which was the only reason that ghouls and squatters hadn’t taken over.
On the flight from Marseilles, Ryan and Jane had decided to aim for a 2:00 AM local time departure. And now that hour approached rapidly as Ryan and the team prepared for the run into Aztlan. Night drop. The thought of it sent chills over Ryan’s skin. Anticipation of action was like a lover’s gentle tickle, a prescient thrill.
Nadja had elected to stay behind at Chateau d'If with Aina and Jane Foster. She could conduct her business from there, and she had made an implicit promise not to leave Aina until it was all over. Aina had taken charge of the search for Harlequin's spirit.
Ryan hoped the painted elf was alive in a metaplanar sanctuary of some kind, nursing his wounds. If not, Ryan didn't know how he’d get Lethe and the Dragon Heart to the metaplanar bridge.
Time is short.
He could feel it closing around him in like a giant fist.
And growing ever shorter.
Behind him, Talon and Grind stepped out of the jet and into the hot night. They carried huge duffels filled with weapons and ammo, communications gear and tools.
All the drek necessary for infiltration.
Dhin and Axler had already gone to the base’s rear gate to wait for the smugglers. Everything was ready to go wheels up, except for a plane. They needed a different craft for this job, something that would fly quietly. Everything depended upon stealth. Guile and sleight of hand.
Focused and unexpected force designed to blindside the Azzies,
“Bossman, you copy?” Dhin’s voice over the tacticom.
“Go ahead.”
“Rodriguez has arrived at the gate.”
“On my way.” Ryan slung his own duffel over his shoulder and walked toward the gates of the old base.
It’s about fragging time,
he thought. Jane had arranged for the meet to happen twenty minutes ago, and the smugglers were late. Ryan wanted to do this run tonight, and every second of delay made the chances of that more difficult.
Ryan gritted his teeth and tried to stifle his anger as he walked, tried to channel the emotion into motivational fuel. He crossed a section of grease-stained concrete, moving toward the rear gate where Axler and Dhin stood with three smugglers.
The lights overhead had been shot out long ago, and the hangars hulked like metal ghosts, giving the airstrip a creepy feel. The smell of oil and gunpowder mingled with the stench of garbage, toxic waste, and urine. As Ryan approached, quietly and quickly, he picked up the muffled rumble of a GMC Bulldog stepvan just beyond the gate,
and more faintly, the discreet sound of an automatic
weapon’s safety sliding off.
Ryan examined the smugglers as he eased up toward them. Two huge trolls flanked a dwarf of Hispanic origin. It was the dwarf who was speaking to Axler. They turned suddenly and walked toward one of the hangars.
Axler’s stance was defensive, cool and professional as she walked. Her eyes were on the trolls and the pistols they carried. As they neared the hangar, Dhin glanced in Ryan’s direction, peering into the darkness. The big ork waved a warty hand for Ryan to join them.
Ryan reached the door to the hangar at the same time they did, appearing out of the darkness. “I’m Quicksilver,” he said.
The trolls turned and scanned him, but said nothing.
The dwarf nodded. “Call me Rodriguez,” he said. “I have your plane. In here.”
An old fashioned metal key opened the door and Rodriguez stepped inside, switching on the lights. Dhin gave a low whistle as the plane came into view, an old Federated-Boeing Nightowl—a twin prop plane with sound-suppressed engines and a matte black finish over its low-profile curves.
“She’s not going to outrun any fighter jets,” the dwarf said, “but she’s a quiet fragger, and she’s hard to see on radar.”
“Mind if I check her over?” Dhin said.
“She’s yours for the night. Should be fueled up and combat ready.”
Dhin walked up and climbed into the plane to scope out all the systems.
Ryan set his duffel down and waited, maintaining his focus on the three smugglers. At his side, Axler held herself at full alert as well. Things were going smoothly so far, but it would only stay that way if strict protocol was maintained.
Dhin’s verdict came back a few minutes later. “She looks good,” he said. “Let’s get the drones and gear loaded.”
Ryan held three credsticks out to the dwarf. “Rodriguez,” he said, “biz completed.”
The dwarf scanned the credsticks on a pocket reader, then looked up at Ryan. A smile spread on his gnarled features. “It’s been a pleasure,” he said. “If you need anything else, have your fixer contact me.”
Ryan nodded. “We’ll have the bird back in less than twenty-four hours.”
Rodriguez signaled his bodyguards and turned to leave. Talon and Grind entered the hangar with duffels. Grind looked up at Ryan with a tired expression on his black face. “What’s the schedule?” he asked.
“Load and roll,” Ryan said. “Wheels up in fifteen.” Talon and Grind nodded.
“Jane?” Ryan said. “You online?”
A moment passed before Jane’s voice came over the ’com. “I copy, Quicksilver.”
“We’ll be airborne in a few. Any specifics on Burnout’s location?”
“I was trying to deck into the San Marcos
teocalli
when you called. Our cyberzombie hasn’t left the temple that I’ve seen, but I have to sleaze my way inside and look around. The IC around their system is thick and quick. I don’t want to rush it or you’ll be minus one decker.”
Ryan knew that the ice must be really tough if Jane brought it up. Normally she decked into systems without any mention of difficulty or the possibility of failure. “Take whatever time you need, babe,” he said. “If we’re on schedule we should be dropping onsite in approximately an hour and thirty-five minutes.”
“Copy that, Quicksilver. That’s eons in Matrix time. I’ll be in touch enroute.”
Ryan started loading the Nightowl with their gear. Drones, weapons, ammunition, tools. Everything was black and gray camouflage. There were parachute packs for the assault, which should get them onsite.
Cluster and his team were responsible for stashing five
Artemis Nightgliders in a hidden location in the vicinity of
the San Marcos temple. The Nightgliders were collapsible ultralights. Once assembled, they would provide Ryan and the others with a silent way back out.
When everything was loaded, Ryan checked himself over before stepping into the plane. His body armor was intact. His bandoleer of narcotic-tipped throwing darts and his Ingram machine pistol in their proper places. He adjusted the Dragon Heart and double-checked his holster for the grenade pistol and the extra-clips of ammo.
“Let’s roll this sucker out,” Dhin said, opening the big hangar doors.
Ryan and Axler pushed the small plane out onto the tarmac, Dhin closed the doors behind them, and they all climbed into the plane. The cargo area was just large enough for the four of them and their gear.
Ryan sat next to Talon, holding onto a wall eyelet as Dhin lifted them off smoothly and quietly. The plane made almost no noise; Ryan could hear the rush of the night air outside. Through the small windows, the sky was clear as far as he could see.
It is a good night for a dive.
Talon sat with eyes closed, his long dark hair tucked into the black hood of a camouflaged nightsuit that covered light body armor. He carried an Ingram in an armpit holster, and he absently flipped through a small tarot deck.
Across from them sat Axler and Grind. Axler had already applied her face camouflage, irregular spots of gray on a black base. Her blue eyes glinted coldly. She was ready. Next to her, Grind secured his weapons for the drop—an Ares Alpha Combatgun on his back, and a Predator II pistol. Grind also carried an array of grenades.