Amish Vampires in Space (63 page)

“Retreat?” Corvus shouted back. “Never! Let us advance—speedily—in the direction of the camp!” He kicked his horse forward into a gallop.

He glanced over at his son, who was thundering along not far behind him, hoping that this unexpected sight of the enemy had not unmanned him in any way. He was delighted to see that Marcus had thrown back his head and was laughing at something one of the knights had said, as fey and unconcerned in the face of the foe as any of their legendary forefathers.

Behind them, the sun’s rays were deepening from oranges and reds into scarlets and purples. Before it would rise again, Corvus knew, the seven of them would be back atop that hill overlooking the field, but in the company of nearly six thousand armed men.

A large black crow flew overhead as they rode, and Corvus smiled up at his namesake.

“Come back tomorrow, little brother,” he shouted at the crow. “Come back tomorrow, and I shall feed you well!”

To purchase
A Throne of Bones
, go
here
.

Crusader perched like a gargoyle
on a second floor ledge across from the safe house’s entrance. He ignored the rain pouring down his face even though it blurred his vision. The weather didn’t matter. Neither did his posture. God created him to execute the Ministrix’s justice. Soon he would fulfill his ordained purpose.

The building across the street from him consumed his attention. It was unremarkable in its construction, a four story box made of standard terracrete. Its dull beige exterior matched that of its neighbors, making the entire block look like a row of rotten teeth. Low bushes lined the front of the building. To the untrained eye, the building would appear to be a simple apartment building or maybe an office complex. But Crusader knew better. He could see the subtle way the front entrance had been reinforced, or the forcefield emitters tucked into the windows in case of siege. No, this was no ordinary building. It was a Praesidium safe house and his prey was inside.

He fought the urge to shift. His legs could have cramped but he couldn’t test them now. Numbness wrapped him in a hazy cocoon. He breathed a silent prayer, thanking the Almighty for this divine gift. Why God had made Crusader numb, he didn’t know, but he had been this way for as long as he could remember. He didn’t know pain. He wasn’t hindered by emotions. Normally, this helped on his missions. But if he rested in one position for too long, he could stiffen up without realizing it. He needed to shift his weight, keep the blood flowing. But that wasn’t an option, not now. Better to remain focused on the task.

Crusader blew water from the tip of his nose. A guard wandered by a window, not even bothering to look outside. This was the third time Crusader had seen that one. He had counted twelve guards so far. Difficult but not impossible.

Conversation drifted up from the street. A young couple strode toward the safe house, apparently unconcerned about the rain. The man nuzzled the woman’s neck. She giggled, wrapping her arms around him. Her red hair was bobbed in keeping with local fashions, but her strong stride marked her as a non-native, most likely from the Praesidium’s Orion Stations.

The man’s goatee, tightly trimmed, framed a wide grin that split his hawkish features. His eyes, bright and green, flashed as he laughed. If Crusader didn’t know better, he’d peg him as a native. But that was why Balaam was one of the Ministrix’s best agents. He could blend into any culture. Even though Balaam knew Crusader was in the area, he didn’t show any sign. His focus remained on the girl. They walked up the steps and through the front door.

Crusader leaned back. He hated working with a partner but hadn’t been given a choice. Sub-Deacon Siseal, his superior, had insisted. And with a mission this important, Crusader couldn’t blame him. Killing a Ministrix Deacon was unheard of and yet they had no choice.

Deacon Palti had been in charge of Ministrix Intelligence, second only to the Revered Hand himself. To rise through the ranks of the One True Church, to be examined at every ascension, and to end like this. Crusader closed down that train of thought. Distracting. Didn’t need that.

The gnawing void within him grew sharper. Didn’t need that either but he couldn’t avoid it. That chasm went everywhere with him, devouring him from inside his mind. If he focused on it, it raged. If he ignored it, it growled beneath his thoughts. Guilt over what he had done. Guilt that could only be stilled through obedience to the Ministrix. So the Revered Hand taught. So Sub-Deacon Siseal assured him. So Crusader believed. Killing Palti would be another step toward removing the void from his life.

An hour dripped by. His “parrot,” a device perched on his shoulder, chirped. He barely heard it over the patter of raindrops, but it was enough. Without a sound, Crusader dropped from his perch and drew his blaster. He whispered to the parrot to start recording. Sub-Deacon Siseal would want proof that the job was done correctly.

There. A green flash from a second story window. Crusader slunk from the shadows to the main door. He fished a lock picker from his pocket and pressed it to the keypad. The machine whirred. While it worked, Crusader pressed explosives on either side of the doorframe. By the time he finished, the doors hissed open.

After counting to three, Crusader dove through the opening. A pair of Praesidium guards shouted in surprise. Crusader fired and burned holes through their chests. Then he rolled across the floor and popped to his feet. Two down and they wouldn’t be the last.

The safe house’s foyer was deceptively empty. It appeared little more than a two meter by two meter room with an arch opposite the door. The plaster coating the walls was dingy and cracked. Crusader suspected that the arch had numerous security sensors embedded in its metal, placed to detect unauthorized entries. He strode through anyway.

A hallway stretched to his left and right. The floor was stained and pitted, the walls likewise showing a great deal of wear. He glanced to either side. Looked like a dining room to his left, a living space to his right. In front of him was a closet. He pressed himself into it as half a dozen people thundered down the hall, their voices a riot of confusion. Crusader waited. Let them gather around the bodies, close to the door. He then whispered a command to the parrot and turned his head away.

The world dissolved into a roar. He counted to three. Crusader emerged from his shelter. The door had been blown apart. Crusader surveyed the damage. Six more Praesidium agents, dead from shrapnel wounds. No survivors. Acceptable. He kicked a chunk of concrete out of his way. His target still waited within.

He cleared the kitchen first, then proceeded to the living area. No hostiles there either. The room looked run down and descrepit, like the rest of the safe house. An open door revealed a flight of stairs. He crept up the stairs. No one opposed him. If the guards had overcome their initial panic, they had likely clustered around Deacon Palti. Crusader peeked around the corner into a deserted corridor. If Balaam’s reconnaissance was right, the heretic Palti would be in a central room on that floor. He slunk out of the landing and down the hall, his arms relaxed but ready.

The cold metal of a blaster bored into the back of his neck.

“Hello, Crusader.”

He knew that voice. “Hello, Kolya.”

He turned, bringing the Praesidium spymaster into view. Krestyanov didn’t appear to be much of a threat. He had a thick waist, with thinning raven hair and beady blue eyes. But Crusader was still impressed. A lesser man would have panicked at the sound of Crusader’s entrance. Kolya Krestyanov, however, looked like he had simply rolled out of bed for a drink. The smaller man’s raven hair was a bit unkempt and his beady blue eyes flashed. But he stood tall, his breathing even.

“So what brings you to Lanadon? This charming world has no Ministrix post.”

“You know. Palti. He’s ours.”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to claim ownership of him, my friend. You may have made a mess downstairs, but I was ready for you, yes? This game between us ends tonight.”

Kolya’s eyes squinched and he held his breath. About to fire.

Crusader lashed out and swept Kolya off his feet.

The Praesidium agent fired anyway.

A tingle snaked across Crusader’s cheek. He grunted. A graze. He’d have to be more careful.

Kolya rolled to the right but Crusader pounced on him and smashed his head against the floor, knocking him unconscious. A door opened behind him and Crusader spun.

Balaam raised his hands, a crooked smirk tugging at his lips.

Crusader lowered the blaster. “The girl?”

“Taken care of. She answers to the Supreme Judge now, not only for her heathen ways but also for her promiscuity.” Balaam pointed to Kolya’s fallen form. “What about him? Undeserved mercy does not become us.”

“Could’ve killed me. Talked instead. That kind of stupid’s good for us, bad for them. Better cover for you too.”

Balaam closed his eyes. “Get on with it then.”

Crusader cracked a fist across Balaam’s temple. The other agent crumpled to the floor.

Standard operating procedure. If Balaam simply disappeared after an attack, the false identity he had assumed for his mission on Lanadon would be worthless. But if he appeared to be another victim, he could feed the Praesidium false information when the heathens investigated the attack, and then disappear with his cover intact.

Crusader catalogued the sounds around him: the crackle of the fire below, the hiss of communicators, the plaintive bleating of a fire alarm. Nothing to indicate he would be intercepted. He set out through a dull hallway, gaze flicking to the doors he passed. Empty rooms slid past him. He poked his head in one bedroom. The sheets had been kicked off the simple cot, as if the sleeper had been rushed. He grunted. Probably the occupant was guarding Palti.

He came to a large set of doors. Unlike the rest of the safe house, this was new construction, recently added. Crusader tapped experimentally at the lock. Sealed tight. No matter.

More charges, placed in key structural positions. Crusader ducked behind a half wall and tripped the fuse. The world dissolved in smoke and thunder. After a count of two, Crusader dove through the gaping hole.

He grunted as another tingle wormed through his shoulder. He dropped behind a counter and pressed his palm to the wound. Not too much blood, but the fight could make the injury worse. Better to finish his enemies quickly.

He leapt to his feet and tracked the first and closest target with his gun. The Praesidium guard’s eyes widened as he looked at the burned hole in his chest. Crusader’s arm jerked to the next. Then the third. He coolly counted through his six opponents. The lasers cut through the last just as the first collapsed to the floor.

Crusader paused, again drawing measured breaths and listening. Nothing. He rechecked the power pack. It would be enough. He stepped over one of the bodies and opened the door they had been guarding.

Palti pressed up against the far wall behind a table. Crusader stared down at the diminutive man. He looked so different without his vestments. Ensconced in his rectory within New Jerusalem Station, Palti commanded fear and respect in all who entered his lair. Now, dressed in the simple clothing of a Lanadon, he appeared frail. His wispy grey hair barely disguised the fact that he was balding. A pockmarked face surrounded rheumy eyes that squinted at him.

“Crusader?” Palti shuffled forward. “For the sake of grace, please, don’t do this!”

“Have to.”

“You don’t. Look, they were getting ready to move me tomorrow. You can tell Siseal that you raided the house and I was already gone. Please. You and I have history together.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“But I can help you! I know about the guilt, don’t I? We spoke of it often. I can tell you how to get rid of it, once and for all! Just spare my life and I’ll tell you what I know.”

Crusader regarded the sniveling man. Then he pointed to the parrot. “Recording. They know you’re here. And I have to do this.”

“Why?” Palti’s groveling disappeared in newfound defiance. “What have I been charged with?”

“Heresy. Treason. More than enough.”

“How can you be sure of any of that?”

Crusader shrugged. “You’re here.”

“And what if I hadn’t been? You would have killed all those people for nothing.”

“Not nothing. They’re sinners before God and deserve what they got.”

“Aren’t we all?”

Crusader didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. They both knew the truth. A truly loyal member of the Ministrix had nothing to fear, an assurance Palti could no longer claim.

Palti sighed and stood up straighter. “I suppose there is nothing I can say to convince you, is there?”

Crusader shook his head. “No.”

Palti’s eyes closed and a smile tugged at his lips.

Crusader hesitated. Why would he grin at a time like this? It made no sense. But then, in the past Crusader had witnessed odd behavior from those who could feel. Irrelevant distraction.

He still wished he could know.

“Better a good Turk…” Palti whispered, then opened his eyes, the smile broadening a bit. “May God have mercy on you for what you’re—”