Resonance 4th Edits - Bleeding Worlds Bk 3 (27 page)

The self-appointed god stood straighter, smoothing his jacket and adjusting his collar.

“I have a private elevator in my office. There’re no other stops between here and a secured area in the loading dock.”

“Did Hildy know about it?” Jason asked.

He didn’t need to hear the answer, Quetzalcoatl’s expression made it clear.

“Then we’re not taking that elevator,” Jason said. “Dammit, I’d hoped we wouldn’t have to waste any energy getting out of here. Fuyuko—”

“Express elevator?”

Jason nodded grimly.

“You up for it?” he asked.

She gave him a look that said both,
eat shit
, and,
I’m more than capable
.

“What are you two up to?” Quetzalcoatl asked. “Shouldn’t I be consulted?”

Jason gave a slight bow.

“With all due respect, my Lord, we’re orchestrating our safe exit from this building. We’ve done a similar extraction in the past, but it wasn’t quite so high up.” Turning to Fuyuko, he asked, “How long do you need?”

She placed her hand against the glass, which fogged and thickened as ice formed on its surface. Fuyuko pulled her spear back and smashed it against the frozen glass, shattering it into thousands of splinters. She leaned out the hole and looked down.

“Say, forty-five seconds,” she said and jumped.

“You,” Jason said to one of the remaining guards, “start counting.”

“One one-thousand. Two one-thousand…” the guard intoned.

“Keep counting, but listen,” Jason said. “You remaining guards have an option. You can stay here, and see if the ones trying to bust down the door are friendly, or if they’re not, take the chance they aren’t interested in killing guards. Or, you can jump out that window and take your chances with us. I won’t force you to do either.”

“Forty-five one-thousand,” the guard finished.

“You should go first, Lord Quetzalcoatl,” Jason said.

Quetzalcoatl moved to the smashed window and looked down.

“Incredible,” he said.

And then he jumped.

Muffled sounds came from beyond the blocked door—men moving about, the sound of metal scraping along the floor.

“I think they’ve brought in some—”

Jason didn’t finish his sentence.

Shards of ice flying in all directions in response to a concussive blast cut him off.

His ears rang, making it sound like he was listening to the gunfire under water—his ears throbbed with the pressure of the sounds trying to break through.

He moved forward, his whip slashing the first targets he saw. To his mind, no friendly troops would burst in spraying the room with automatic weapons. To a friendly’s mind, their Lord and master was most likely being held hostage in this very room. So it stood to reason if they didn’t care about shooting Quetzalcoatl, they were no friends of Jason.

“Go,” he said to the last of the guards—one had been killed by a large piece of wood—probably from the door—puncturing his chest plate, and likely his heart.

Ideally, they would give some lead time between jumps. But the three were going out the window one after the other. There’d be some broken limbs to worry about on the ground below.

A bullet grazed Jason’s cheek, another passed through his left bicep. He might’ve lost part of an ear, but those were trivial. As long as he had his legs and could hold his whip, he’d manage.

He willed the whip to stiffen, forcing all his strength into a sideway shove, smashing four of the invaders against the wall. Two were rendered unconscious, one probably dead, and the fourth crumpled to the ground wetting himself.

The remaining three saw a blur of motion, and their cohorts decimated. One turned and ran, the other two hesitated, losing their heads as a reward.

Jason let the whip fade into the Veil.

Would they keep Takeda’s Solution somewhere in this building? Should I look for it?

He glanced back to the window. If he didn’t move quickly, he’d lose his chance to leave that way.

If I don’t go out that window, Fuyuko will worry. And if she finds out I was trying to find the Solution, she’ll kill me.

Jason went out the window.

About four storeys down, his backside came into contact with ice, angling at a gentle slope. The initial surface was smooth as glass, with it becoming rougher as he descended. Between the slope, and the increasingly rough surface, his descent slowed. He still hit the snow pile at the bottom hard. Thankfully, his moment of hesitation meant no other bodies were in the snow when he plowed into it.

The three guards were holding their sides and bruises already showed wherever skin was exposed.

But they were alive, and still able to walk. All thanks to Fuyuko and her minor miracles.

“I’m amazed you can still work out the math so quickly,” he said to her.

The hand she offered felt rough and callused against his own—more like holding a block of ice than human flesh. She gave him a strained smile—her cheeks so pale he could see the musculature beneath.

“Do you have any idea how I was drilled on those equations after we did this and Paltar broke his leg? You never forget that.”

“Are you ok?”

In response, her smile widened but she shook her head no.

Quetzalcoatl regarded the ice structure, then waved a hand, sending the construct toppling to the ground.

“Impressive,” he said. “But we don’t need anyone following us that way.”

Fuyuko’s shoulders sank a little, but she nodded her agreement.

“It doesn’t look like any major fighting has broken out down here,” Jason said. “Lord Quetzalcoatl, what are your order from here—should we withdraw, or regroup, and eliminate the traitors?”

Quetzalcoatl stretched his neck side to side and cracked his knuckles—which remained at odd angles, ending in knife-like fingers.

“I’ve allowed cancer into my house once before. It destroyed an entire, glorious, civilization. I will not allow it to happen again.”

“What about your team?” Jason asked Fuyuko. “Do you think they’re on our side?”

“They will follow my lead,” she said.

Jason took note she didn’t mention their loyalty to Quetzalcoatl.

Good to know. Could be useful down the road.

“They were going to the barracks after our first meeting,” Fuyuko said. “If the commotion out here hasn’t brought them out…”

“Then something is delaying them inside,” Jason said. “We should go. The more Anunnaki on our side, the faster this will get cleared up. You men able to fight?” he asked the three remaining guards.

They snapped attention, answering, “Yes, sir,” even though he could see them wince against their bruises and possible fractures.

“Good. Let’s go.”

The barracks turned out to be the UN Plaza Hotel. Jason lived his younger years in the plain concrete confines of Suture. To him, the word barracks summoned those gray images, so he nearly turned around when stepping into a lobby with brass fixtures, lush carpets, and warm wood paneling.

“This is where your troops sleep?” he asked.

“I know,” Fuyuko said sheepishly, “a little opulent. But it’s because only the lower floors are the barracks. The upper floors with the best views are still reserved for visiting dignitaries and VIPs.”

They moved without further sound to the stairwell. Jason suppressed a shudder as the horrible visage of the Gorgon floated up from memory. Damn, he hated stairwells now.

Jason eased open the door on the second floor. A metallic smell, like the reclaimed, rusted metal panels Fenrir welded to help shield their vehicles, assailed his nostrils. He knew it was blood before opening the door enough to see butchered bodies and walls smeared red. He pulled more strength from the Veil and summoned his whip. He picked his way along the hall, trying to step on pieces of floor devoid of blood or flesh. In some places, it proved impossible.

One of the soldiers who’d come with them started gagging, finally producing a loud splash of vomit.

Fuyuko moved immediately to the man’s side, shielding him—whether knowingly or not—from Quetzalcoatl’s intolerance for weakness.

Jason recalled Wade vomiting outside a displaced walkup in a Kansas cornfield. They’d all acted like he was letting them down by being so weak. God, how they’d all envied him. Back then, Jason would’ve called swallowing his own vomit bravery or being professional. Now he understood it was as much cowardice as strength. Allowing others to see you weak required more bravery than hiding it.

“Go back to the stairs,” Fuyuko said to the man. “Guard our backs—it’s important.”

She emphasized the last two words. Jason wondered if it was more for the man’s own benefit, or for Quetzalcoatl’s.

The guard nodded weakly, but his expression seemed more determined. Jason imagined it took him a great deal of effort to not run back out the stairwell door.

Fuyuko moved closer to Jason.

“You don’t think this is another Veil beast like the Gorgon, do you?”

He nearly laughed at how closely their minds worked, even after all these years apart.

“I had been,” he said, “But I think this is the work of an Anunnaki. Veil beasts usually feed off their victims somehow—be it energy or blood. This is too wasteful by their standards. This is slaughter just for the joy of it.”

“How could anyone take joy in this?”

Ask your heart ripping boss
, Jason thought.
If he could’ve kept his own bloodlust in check, we probably wouldn’t be in the middle of this shit.

Jason just shook his head in response.

“How many floors of barracks?” Jason asked.

“There’s two more above us,” Fuyuko replied. “But we’ve hardly checked this floor.”

“We should go up to the top floor. There’re no sounds of fighting here, and if there was something going on above our heads, we’d probably hear something.”

“I agree,” Quetzalcoatl said. “We’ll open the door on the next floor, but I’m going to guess it will be similar.”

Jason nodded, his mouth drawn into a grim line.

They returned to the stairs and moved to the next level. Fuyuko reached to open the door when sounds of yelling and scuffles came from above them.

They charged up and burst through the door, weapons at the ready.

A similar scene to the first floor greeted them, but sounds of conflict came from further down the hall.

Quetzalcoatl flew ahead of them, his mouth widening and two large fangs filling the space between his upper and lower jaw.

Jason fought the urge to use his whip to pull the Ageless One back.

You’re no good to me dead.

But if Quetzalcoatl was revealing this face, it meant danger for anyone who got in his way.

Down the hall, around a blind corner—Quetzalcoatl didn’t even slow.

How long do you have to live before you think you can’t die?
Jason wondered.

Jason didn’t slow his pace around the corner either, but he crouched lower to the ground, positioning himself behind Quetzalcoatl—the Ageless One could probably survive a blow that would kill Jason.

The two threw themselves against opposite walls as a body crashed down the hall, smacking against the wall with a sickening series of cracks.

Oh God, no!

Standing tall, his shoulders back and low, stood Kydoimos.

Sour knots twisted in Jason’s gut. He hadn’t seen this Einherjar since they’d escaped Valhalla seven years ago. Reflexively, he slapped his hands against his ears, protecting them against the man’s sonic assault. But Kydoimos didn’t seem to be bothering. He just stood facing the forces aligned against him—a maniacal grin spread across his thin, angular, face.

He wore the same security uniform as Hildy—Quetzalcoatl’s special forces. It was dyed almost entirely in differing hues of red and brown—dried and fresh blood.

“Homados,” Quetzalcoatl roared, “what do you think you’re doing?”

The man Jason knew as Kydoimos turned to look at them both. When he saw Jason, his smile widened.

“Two birds for the price of one trip,” he said. “My boss will be so pleased.”

“He’s an Einherjar,” Jason said, “Woten’s chosen army.”

Kydoimos gave a slight bow toward Quetzalcoatl, grabbing an approaching guard with his outstretched hand and snapping the man’s neck.

“I’m so glad you all showed,” Kydoimos said, tossing the lifeless body aside. “I was getting so bored dealing with these weaklings.”

A dagger of ice sliced down the hall, cutting through Kydoimos’ cheek.

He ran his fingers through the blood trickling down to his chin, inspecting them with the curiosity of one who never saw his own blood.

“Impressive,” he said. “It moved so fast, I wasn’t able to dodge it entirely. My compliments, Eternal Winter.”

Fuyuko stood several feet behind Jason, her shoulders heaving slightly with each breath.

“A god, a nuisance, and a frightening prophesy,” Kydoimos said. “Woten will be most pleased when I present your heads.”

Gunfire filled the hall.

“No,” Jason yelled. “Get back.”

With an unimpressed chuckle, Kydoimos phased out of sight. Jason spun, willing the barbs on his whip to flatten, and for it to grab hold of Fuyuko, pulling her back to him.

An iron hammer, tapered from the blunt killing edge into an elegant branch motif, smashed through the space where Fuyuko’s head had been. The two remaining guards were already dead.

Kydoimos moved so fast, he seemed to glide along the floor as opposed to running.

Plaster and wooden splinters rained on Fuyuko and Jason as they rolled away from the hammer’s strike.

A mix of hissing and human scream sounded Quetzalcoatl’s attack. Taking advantage of Kydoimos’ pause while his hammer imbedded itself in the wall, the self-appointed god slashed at the Einherjar’s midsection—a small trickling of blood spattered on the mangled wall.

Crack.

Kydoimos took the slash but rolled aside so his hammer came loose from the wall, right into Quetzalcoatl’s head. A fountain of red trailed after the god as he flew backward from the blow. The wall he struck didn’t stop him and he plowed into the room beyond.