Cloak Games: Rebel Fist (8 page)

“Through the HVAC room,” I said. “A catwalk over the food court leads to a roof access ladder, and according to your map, there’s a ladder that goes from the roof to the top of the skyway to the employee parking structure. We just have to cross the catwalk, cut across the roof, go over the skyway, and we can get to the parking ramp.”

“Won’t they have…you know, snipers on the roof and stuff?” said Russell. “To secure the perimeter?” 

“Maybe,” I said, “but there will be a lot of machinery up there…

“Eight Model 49C air handlers from Royal Heating & Cooling,” said Lydia promptly.

“Right,” I said. “So we sneak across the roof, get to the skyway, and get the hell out of here.” I checked the door on the left. It was locked, but I still had Mr. Loman’s keys. The third key opened the lock. I swung the door open, and immediately heard the whining rumble of industrial-grade air conditioning equipment. I wondered why the stuff was still on despite the power outage, then realized the air handling machinery likely had its own generator in case of power failure. Just as well – that meant the machines on the roof would still be running, and that noise would only help us.

I gestured for Russell and Lydia to follow me, and I flipped on my tactical flashlight. We ascended a narrow flight of metal stairs and entered a large room. The HVAC room was a big metal vault with a dusty concrete floor, the walls lined with enormous grumbling machines. I saw no trace of anyone, whether orcish soldiers, Archons, mall employees, or customers. 

We crossed the vault and climbed a set of metal steps on the far wall. The stairs ended in a small balcony with a steel security door. I fumbled with Loman’s keys until I found one that clicked in the lock. 

“Listen, both of you,” I said before I opened the door. “Don’t say anything, and walk as quietly as you can. This catwalk goes right over the food court. If there are any orcs down there and they happen to look up, we’re sitting ducks. Keep your mouths shut, and for God’s sake don’t make any noise. Understand?”

They bobbed their heads.

“Set your phones on silent,” I said, drawing out mine and making sure to follow my own advice. I also switched off my flashlight. “They’re jamming the network, but if it comes back I don’t want our phones making noise.”

“What if I have to cough?” said Lydia in a small voice.

“You’re still wearing your apron,” I said, gesturing at the bloodstained green cloth. “Cough or sneeze into that. Better yet, don’t do either. Let’s go.”

I undid the lock and pulled the door open. A gust of cool air hit me in the face, and I saw the catwalk stretching before me, a long, narrow walkway of metal grillwork bolted to the ceiling, lined with a steel railing. On either side of the catwalk ran thick metal ducts, some of them thumping as the machines behind me switched on and off. Between the catwalk and the ducts was a wide gap, and below the gap…

I swallowed and stepped onto the catwalk, keeping my AK-47 ready in both hands so it wouldn’t clang against the railings. 

Below the gap was a long drop. It was at least a hundred feet from the ceiling to the lowest level of the food court. I suppose the fall would kill you instantly, though if you were unfortunate you might hit one of the balconies fifty or sixty feet down, and instead of dying instantly you would enjoy agony for the few remaining moments of your life. The catwalk was only wide enough for us to go single file, and I eased forward a few steps, peering over the railing. 

The smell of blood hit my nostrils, and I saw dozens of corpses scattered within the food court. The orcish soldiers had been thorough and merciless. I hoped at least some people had gotten away. About twenty orcs stood upon the lowest level, AK-47s in hand. If just one of them happened to look up, they could riddle the catwalk with bullets and kill all three of us in seconds. The emergency lights threw harsh shadows everywhere, and I saw…

My frown deepened.

I saw the pale, flickering light of a rift way somewhere on the lowest level of the food court.

Russell and Lydia stood behind me, and I turned for a moment, gesturing for them to stay silent and motionless. Then I shifted my gun to my right hand, hid my left hand beneath my coat, and worked a spell. The coat hid the pale flicker of blue light that accompanied the spell to sense the presence of magic, and I focused my will on the food court, wondering if I could sense the rift way the Archons had opened from the Shadowlands. 

The amount of power I sensed almost knocked me off my feet. 

I knew what a rift way felt like. A rift way took a lot of magical power to open, all of my magical strength…but I wasn’t that strong. I could only open a rift way for a few seconds, but that was just as well, since that I was all I needed to use the rift way. Yet the rift way I sensed in the food court wasn’t going anywhere. It was stable, and it took a considerable amount of magical power to keep a rift way open. 

But that wasn’t the most powerful thing I sensed. 

I felt locus of magical power unlike anything I had ever sensed or encountered before. I didn’t know what to make of it. It was like some vast heart, every beat sending a wave of magical power through the air. For a moment I was overcome with something much like raw physical lust. I wanted to possess that power for myself. My mind spun with what I could do with that power. I could save Russell. I could free myself from Morvilind. I could…

Maybe the moth felt that way before it flung itself into the lantern flame.

Cold sanity reasserted itself, and I swallowed. Whatever the Archons were up to down there was far beyond my magical ability. Nevertheless, it was probably a good idea to find out what the Archons were doing. The more I knew about what was happening, the better chance I had of getting Russell out alive. 

If the Archons were using that kind of magic, maybe I should find the Marneys and get all four of us the hell out of Milwaukee. 

I turned back to the door, lifted one finger to my lips for silence, and then beckoned for Russell and Lydia to follow me. Russell nodded and started onto the catwalk. Lydia hesitated, her bloodshot eyes wide as she stared into the gap, and I wondered if she was afraid of heights. Then Russell reached back, took her left hand, and eased her forward. Lydia nodded and followed him.

If we got out of here alive, Russell would have no trouble getting further dates from Lydia. Hell, he would have no trouble getting more than a date from her. Maybe I should have a little talk with Russell about that. I didn’t want him to become a father by the time he was fifteen. On the other hand, I had heard him talk a lot about how God wanted people to stay abstinent until marriage, so maybe it wouldn’t be a problem. Of course, it was easy to forget good sense in the heat of the moment. 

I knew that all too well. 

Anyway, it was one more thing I could worry about if we lived through this.

We moved forward step by silent step, taking care to keep the stocks and barrels of the guns from clanging against the railing or the metallic grill of the floor. Lydia grasped at Russell’s hand, her knuckles shining white, sweat trickling down her forehead. I wasn’t afraid of heights, but I had to admit it was a long way down. 

I spotted the rift way. 

It was right before a counter that had once sold waffles, a flickering veil of grayish light and mist. Through it I glimpsed the dead forests and starless, lightless sky of the Shadowlands. Around the rift way moved orcish soldiers in black fatigues and tactical vests, carrying a wide variety of weapons…

No. Not orcs. 

Humans. 

Which meant that that black-clad men were Rebels. The orcs who had captured Lydia had indeed intended to bring her to the Rebels. I had run up against the Rebels a few times, and while they claimed to be fighting for the freedom of all mankind against the High Queen, I had noticed they were not too picky about how much of mankind they had to kill to do it. One Rebel commander I had met had quoted some old Marxist philosopher or another, claiming that if he had to kill ninety percent of the human population so the remaining ten percent could live free of the Elves, he would do it gladly. 

Sick bastards. I’m not even remotely a good woman, but the Rebels were worse. 

A flare of red light caught my attention, and I moved forward another few steps, peering down through the catwalk grill. Four Rebels stood guard around a metal table, and on that table rested a…a…

I had no idea what it was. 

From what I could tell, it looked like a crystal or glass sphere about the size of a bowling ball. It seemed to burn with crimson flames, painting the table the color of blood. A strange black cross floated in the center of the sphere, and it made me think of the vertical pupil of a snake’s eye, albeit a pupil that had been crossed with another. 

This had to be the source of the power I had sensed. I had no idea what the damned thing was. Some sort of magical device or relic, obviously, but I could only guess at its function. Maybe the Rebels had used the sphere to open the rift way and allow the Archons entry to Milwaukee. Maybe the thing was a magical weapon the Archons had given to the Rebels.

Part of my mind, a big part, screamed at me to keep going, but curiosity won out. I had to know more about this thing. On a more practical level, I had a better chance of getting Russell out alive if I knew more. If this thing really was a weapon the Archons had brought to destroy Milwaukee…

I gestured for Russell and Lydia to stop, and I slipped my phone out of my pocket. In addition to the module that let it detect jamming, it had a telescopic lens on the camera. I unlocked the phone, tapped the camera app, and pointed the lens at the table and zoomed in, hitting the RECORD button as I did. That gave me a clearer view of the sphere and the Rebel guards around it. The sphere did indeed look like a giant, crimson eye, albeit an eye with a black cross for a pupil. The Rebels were all middle-aged, with the hard look of veteran men accustomed to killing. They turned as another Rebel approached, a big, strong-looking man with graying black hair, and…

A bolt of pure, nauseating fear shot through me.

I knew the Rebel commander. 

His name was Sergei Rogomil. I had first met him in Los Angeles a few years ago, when I had made the stupid mistake of falling in love with the leader of a Rebel cell. More recently, I had run into Rogomil on a job for Morvilind, and wound up stopping him from assassinating the frost giant ambassador to the High Queen. In the process, I stole his phone and emailed its entire contents to the Inquisition. I had assumed the Inquisition had killed or captured Rogomil, but it looked like he had gotten away. 

I had screwed him over twice, and consequently Sergei Rogomil wanted me dead. He wanted me dead on a visceral, personal level, and if he got his hands on me, he would make me wish that he had just shot me full of drugs and dumped me in a brothel for Rebel soldiers.  

A worse fear occurred to me. 

If he realized that Russell was my brother…

Through the phone’s display I saw Rogomil conversing with the Rebels. All five men looked pleased, and if they happened to look up, they might well see me recording. I shut off my phone’s display, jammed it back into my pocket, and urged Russell and Lydia forward. We crossed the catwalk in silence, and I strained to hear shouts of alarm or the sound of bullets. 

Yet no one noticed us. I’d read somewhere that people rarely looked up, and I guess that must have been true. We reached the door on the far side of the catwalk, and I unlocked it in silence, urged Russell and Lydia through, and shut it behind us. We found ourselves in another HVAC room of grumbling machines, but this room had a metal ladder that led to the mall’s roof.

“Hang on a minute,” I said, leaning against the cinder block wall. The surge of adrenalin when I had seen Rogomil had made my legs rubbery. “Need to get my breath back.”

“Those men,” said Russell. “They were Rebels, weren’t they?”

“Yep,” I said. “Probably working with the Archons.”

“Rebels?” said Lydia, her disgust plain. “Rebels? What kind of men would betray the High Queen?”

“Do you want to go back and look?” I said. Lydia gave a vigorous shake of her head. A malicious part of me wanted to explain just what the Rebels would have done with her if the orcs had taken her captive, but I had enough sense to keep my damn mouth shut. 

“That…glowing thing,” said Russell. 

“Yeah?” I said, pushing away from the wall. My legs felt steadier, and my heart was starting to slow down. 

“It looked like a big red eye,” said Lydia. 

“What was it?” said Russell.

“I have no idea,” I said. “At a guess, it’s some sort of magical relic the Rebels used to open a rift way to the Shadowlands so the Archons and their pet orcs could cross over.”

“Why were you taking pictures of it?” said Lydia. 

That wasn’t a question I wanted to answer. 

“My phone has a telescopic lens,” I said. “I wanted to see what it was. I was afraid the Rebels had dug up an old nuclear bomb or something.”

“Did nuclear bombs glow?” said Lydia. 

“No idea,” I said. “You can look it up when you get home.” I slung my gun over my shoulder, crossed the room to the ladder, and started climbing. “Let’s go.” 

Mr. Loman’s key unlocked the trapdoor to the roof, thank God. I pushed it open, squinting at the glare of sunlight, and hauled myself up. The roof was a flat expanse of concrete, layered with loose gravel. I wondered how the mall dealt with snowmelt in the winter, and then decided that I didn’t care. Big metal cabinets stood in rows, each the size of small trucks, giving off humming and clanking sounds. Likely these were the air handlers Lydia had mentioned, and I saw several things that looked like backup generators. 

There was no sign of anyone, human, orc, or Elf. Russell and Lydia came after me and I closed and locked the trapdoor behind us to discourage any pursuit. Then we hurried over the gravel to the edge of the roof. I looked around as I did, and I saw plumes of smoke rising from several places in Brookfield, and a noticeable lack of traffic on the four-lane street next to the Ducal Mall. The traffic lights were dark at an intersection.