ARC: Crushed (29 page)

Chapter 39

I can’t think about Armand. I can’t think about his admission and what it means. Not now. Later I can let my little chest-creature out to whine and moan and make its painful fuss. But not now. Now I have more important things to do. Like undo this disaster I’ve caused, rescue the Beacon Map (and incidentally, mankind) and my friends. My true friends, I remind myself, the ones who didn’t try to side-deal my soul to the devil. To do that, I need the Crusaders’ help.

And to get their help I have to trust them.

“Stop!” I shout, running to the gate’s lever. “I’m turning myself in.”

The Crusaders still and I eye them in all their armed, bristling, demon-hunting fury.

“Errr, promise you won’t kill me,” I add hastily. “Get me the Sarge and I’ll turn myself in.” Hey, I’m still trusting them to keep their word. Baby steps.

There’s a quick conference, and I’d bet anything someone in the back is communicating with headquarters. “Fine,” says a bulky, scarred black woman, who I deduce is the squad leader.

“Promise you won’t kill me first,” I push.

“Done,” she clips and I appreciate her sense of urgency.

“Meda–,” Armand makes one last plea, but it’s pointless; that part’s over. With a quick jerk, I pull the lever, and as soon as the door lifts, Crusaders swarm into the room.

I’m surrounded, and I have to force myself not to struggle as my arms are cuffed behind me. Even after I’m restrained, a Crusader takes each of my arms at the elbow. The squad leader, who I learn is called Gabo, stands in front of me and directs the rest to search and secure the room.

“There’s only one other door,” I volunteer. I can’t move my arms, so I nod toward the vault-like door I’d shut earlier. She ignores me. “Where’s the Sarge?”

“On the way.”

“Who’s this?” shouts a Crusader behind me.

The squad leader looks to me for explanation. “Friend of yours?”

“No,” I say, without turning around.

She doesn’t blink. “Kill him.”

It’s what I wanted.

Thankfully there’s a commotion from the hallway that pulls my attention away from what is happening behind us. The Sarge must have arrived, and not a minute too soon. I can’t see, the squad leader standing in front of me, but I hear a curt “Sergeant,” and I sigh in relief.

I sighed too soon.

“Miss Melange,” the Sergeant says in fat satisfaction.

I close my eyes and think lots of profanity. When I open them, the squad leader has stepped to the side.

“Hello, Sergeant Graff.”

I really should have been more specific.

“I need to speak to Sergeant
Reinhardt,
” I demand.

His attention is already elsewhere. “Sound the retreat,” he orders.

“Chi and Jo, they’re out then?” I ask.

No one answers. Several Crusaders mutter the communication spells and body-less Crusader-heads start popping in-and-out of existence, and the word “retreat”, repeats down the line. The Crusaders in the room start moving, my escort pulling me towards the door, Graff walking with us.

“Chi and Jo are out, aren’t they?” Graff doesn’t answer, but the way squad leader Gabo won’t meet my eyes says it all. I ask again anyway, even though I already know the answer. “Aren’t they?”

“Crusader Gabo, send out point, the southwest tunnel,” he orders. She motions people down the tunnel ahead of us. Sergeant Graff nods to another Crusader working the communication spell. “Tell the Rhinos they’re working sweep. Get them on our tail.” Graff turns back as a Crusader says something to him about Red Squad being pinned down. “Tell them we’re sending reinforcements, then find Rhys and see if you can get him over there. Everyone else able to retreat?”

“Yessir.”

“But Jo and Chi – you can’t retreat.” No one listens as we march into the tunnel. “Wait! You can’t retreat!” I jerk free and throw myself at Graff, slamming into him. We don’t fall, but I certainly have his attention.

“Chi and Jo are still in here. You have to get them!”

His eyes are cold and dead. “No.”

“What do you mean,
no
?”

“Get her out of here.” I’m seized from behind, by the squad leader herself this time.

“How can you call the retreat? They’re still in there!” I thrash in her arms, and one of my previous guards jumps back into the fray. “You can’t call the retreat!” I shout, pulling against the restraining arms. “Jo and Chi are still in there!” He doesn’t pay me any attention and I fight for all I’m worth. “Let me go! I’ll do it myself!”

Crusader Gabo looks sincerely, genuinely sorry as she forcefully drags me down the tunnel.

“No!” I scream and keep screaming. I smash my head into Gabo’s nose and lash out with my legs to slam another one in the gut, but it’s to no avail. More just pin me down. Why did I let them cuff me?
Why?

“The Beacon Map!” I scream, frantic. “I can get you the Beacon Map.” That gets a glance, just barely a glance from Sergeant Graff, and I hold my breath.

He turns his back.

I lunge at him. I get nowhere, but I can’t stop myself. “You heartless son of a bitch. Don’t you care about them?”

He stiffens, and turns slowly. His face is a mask of fury. “I’m heartless?” He hisses. “
I’m
heartless?” The restraining arms stay around me, but they no longer try to drag me away. “Do you have any idea how many people have died today
because of you?
” It’s a low, vicious growl.

I flinch, but I won’t back down. “You never liked me,” I accuse. “But you shouldn’t punish Chi and Jo for it.”

“Punish them?
Punish them?
” He laughs.
Laughs.
“You petty, stupid
child
.” He bites off each word slowly and hatefully. “I don’t pick who lives and who dies based on whether I
like
them – I don’t have that luxury.” The look of absolute disgust he gives me says I wouldn’t be there if he did. “It’s a balancing act. I can’t risk more lives –
dozens
more lives – to
try
to save two. Two who could be anywhere, who might already be dead.” He slams a hand over his eyes and breathes deep, getting himself under control. When he pulls his hand down, the rigid, icy mask is back. “It’s not personal, Miss Melange. It’s math.”

“You won’t have to risk dozens,” I jump in. “I know where they are, I can lead you to them. I just need a few people to help me, eight… no, six, even. Please.”

He doesn’t say anything for a heartbeat and I realize I’m mouthing the word “please” over and over again. But then he shakes his head. “I can’t risk it. We can’t trust you. Not after this.” He waves and the restraining arms start pulling me away.

“No! No!” But no one listens. “If they die, it’s on you!” I scream.

He turns. “No, Miss Melange,” he says, and I see beneath his mask. “I have a lot that I am responsible for, but this? This one,” he pauses, looking almost sorry as he says it, “this one is on you.”

And he is absolutely, completely right, and the realization leaves me stunned. It was
my
friendship with Armand; it was
my
running away; it was
my
stealing the Beacon Map. It was
my
plan to invade the Acheron; it was
me
who involved Jo and Chi. It is utterly and completely my fault, every stupid, stupid mistake.

“Sergeant,” someone calls from behind him. I watch wordlessly as he turns away, his movements somehow both heavy and quick.

“Yes?”

“Red squad is on their way out.”

Graff raises his arm and whips it around his head. “Move out.”

“No!” I scream, pointlessly. “No! You can’t leave them. You can’t–”

But he can and he does. They start to move out. A few sympathetic looks are cast my way. They love Chi, they love Jo, but they agree with Graff. They can’t risk it, can’t risk taking me at my word and risking their friends’ lives. They can’t trust me, and it’s going to cost Chi and Jo their lives. Because this is all my fault.

Because I am not trustworthy.

“Please,” I’m mouthing the word again, but everyone looks away. “I was wrong. I made a mistake. I’m sorry, just please…” I beg, sobbing. But they can’t. They’re too smart for that. Words are hollow, hollow things.

Trust is earned,
Jo told me once.
Trust is earned,
and I hadn’t earned it. Graff made mistakes, true. Possessing me by force was wrong, of course it was. But at least his motives had been pure. Not mine. It has always been about me. How the other students treated me, how I didn’t get to play with magic, how I didn’t get to eat when I wanted. Sneaking out, playing the pranks, Ar– but I can’t finish the name.

Graff was right. I am a stupid, petty child

Jo was right. This war isn’t about me. But of course, Jo was always right.

No,
is
. Jo
is
always right.

Jo.

Trust is earned.

And I know what I have to do. There’s only one way to prove that I’m one of
them
– one of the Crusaders. To teach them where Jo and Chi and the Beacon Map are without wasting the days it had taken us to learn all the different routes. The only way to save my friends. The only way to save the Beacon Map.

The only way to earn the Crusaders’ trust.

“Sergeant Graff,” I say. The formality, the
deference
in my tone catches his attention better than a thousand screams would have. “I know how we can save them.” He spares me one almost-curious glance before turning his back. My next words stop him before he can walk away.

“Possess me.”

Chapter 40

If I’d hoped that the mere noble offer would be enough to convince them of my trustworthiness, I would have been severely disappointed. As it was, I barely had time to suggest such a thing before Sergeant Graff was bent over, breathing into my face.

The transition is smoother, faster, this time. I don’t fight him, but slide into my corner, making space for his swollen redness. Once in, he instantly clambers to Our feet, and with a few quick stretches and light bouncing, like a fighter about to enter the ring, he’s ready.

“Where are they?” He asks me out loud, but he doesn’t need to. I’m not blocking him out and I feel the words before he says them, like little ripples through the amorphous liquid that is Us.

I let the information flood back: the lessons with the demon boy, the Beacon Map’s location, what I know about the Acheron. The sudden rush of information sends Us to Our knees.

“Easy!” he shouts at me, again unnecessarily out loud, and I slow the flood of information to a steady stream. The squad leader grabs Our arm, and I see the Crusader who cast the spell striding forward. We hold up a hand to let the others know We’re fine, and get back to Our feet.

I can feel his concentration as I feed him the information, and I can follow the clear-cut paths his thoughts make as he connect dots, calculates odds, and debates and discard options before they are even fully formed. His mind is rigidly, beautifully organized; his thoughts are a constantly running algorithm that combines his knowledge with potential actions and calculates their probable outcomes – and all of these are weighed against each other in a rapidly adjusting equation I can barely follow.

He doesn’t have a mind so much as a calculator of fates

I hear his conclusions as he makes them and I know each of his moves before he gives the orders. The Royce Rollers are already near where we think Jo and Chi are, so we’ll meet up with them, freeing the present company to take Graff’s limp body to the surface. We’ll take two of our current squad with us in case We run into trouble on the way. The Rollers have lost three of their squad, so that brings us to eleven for the rescue mission. Ten-and-a-half, really, as one of the Rollers is only a rookie.

He debates bringing more, but favors speed and stealth over numbers. It’s better to call as little attention to ourselves as possible because even if we called every Crusader here to go with us, we still wouldn’t have enough to face the demons head on in a battle.

Not anymore.

But he can’t think about that. Not now. There’s too much to be done. There will be time for that. Later.

We’ll order a final push from the retreating army, draw the demons into battle there. They don’t know about the Beacon Map, so they won’t be anticipating a retrieval mission.

It’s fluid, this information transfer; our thoughts and feelings mingle without a wall thrown up to block them. I’m not digging into his mind, attacking, as I did the last time, so I’m not getting the vivid images of memories stolen, but every thought is in some way the result of emotion and experience, and little bits of those leak into the pool of our shared information.

I wonder what he gets from me. What he feels when I think of Jo and Chi. When I think of the Crusaders.When I think of–

But I stop myself from saying his name. It is now one of those things that is better left unspoken.

Crusaders Chan and Jones flank us as we set off after Chi and Jo. We pause at intersections as We try to get our bearings, trying to recall the routes the demon boy sketched on scratch paper. We picture the kitchen, the table, the curving snake-like lines of tunnels, dark eyes–

Left. We go left.

Eventually we hear the sound of battle. It’s got to be Royce Rollers, and we pick up our pace, racing toward the battle. We come around the corner, just as there’s an explosion and we hit the deck and rubble flies over us, pelting down like rain. We look up cautiously and see an enormous hall, the ceiling held up by a forest of columns meant to look like trees from some wicked wood. Cut down the middle winds a narrow path, widening at the end to make it appear as if the room beyond is a clearing in the forest. Blocking the way, however, is a huge barricade of stacked furniture that looks like it was cut from stone, behind which waits an army of demons. Nearby are a couple of the Rollers using the “trees” as cover they hurl magic and holy-water grenades at the demon’s barricade. We wave Jones and Chan forward and bear-crawl forward to join a Crusader I don’t recognize, a middle aged man, sitting on the floor with is back pressed against a column. In his arms is the limp form of a young woman.

“Dupaynes and Beauregard are somewhere in there, but they can’t get to us,” he says without preamble. “There are demons in the woods, with more flinging magic from the barricade. Anytime we try to move forward, they blast the crap out of us.” He looks down at the woman is his arms. “We’re down to six,” he adds grimly. “And my leg…” we notice now the ground-meat condition of his left shin. Five. They’re down to five.

Graff is unflappable. “Now we’re back up to eight.” We press Ourself as close as possible the column and peer into the room to take stock. The other five remaining Crusaders are behind columns of their own, spread out across the room as if planning to flank the demons with their pathetically tiny army. Crusaders Janus, Teague, and Hudson I recognize from school, and another is a Corp who looks familiar, but I never learned her name. The fifth I know far, far too well.

Isaiah.

Not exactly my first choice to protect my back.

He glances back as if he feels Our eyes on him. He doesn’t look surprised to see me, but then, he would have known I – or rather We – were coming. For once I’m glad I don’t have control of my body; he’d enjoy my horrified expression far too much.

A cloud of black fire comes rolling our way, and we duck back into hiding.

Graff’s busy using the cold, calculating abacus of his mind to consider options. “We’ll need to strike them again,” We finally say, “before they realize reinforcements have arrived. Use what little element of surprise we have to distract them and give Beauregard and Dupaynes a chance to get to us.”

The other Crusader’s eyes flicker. He knows how dangerous that is, but, like all of us, has no better plan.

“But first, we need to get closer. Make them concentrate their forces close to the barricade, clearing up the woods for the students to escape.” We look again at the Crusader’s leg, and I feel an abacus bead slide. “I want you to use the cover of our attack to get yourself and her back out to the others.” We looks pointedly at the leg. “You’re no good to us here.” The Crusader looks like he wants to argue but is too well-trained.

Quickly the others are informed of the plan. We’ll try to rush the field, trying to make it at least half-way across the room, before taking cover and reevaluating – hopefully to do it again, then again, until we focus the demons on the far side of the room.

At Our signal, we go. I barely have time to brace myself before We’re dodging among the trees and flinging magic with all the fury We contain. It’s not boundless, the magical energy, and I can feel Graff’s impatience as he waits the seconds it takes for the energy to reload. The demons cackle and fire back, and a column to my left crumbles and I hear a scream that ends too abruptly. We dive over another pile of rubble, and send a bolt of white fire zinging towards the demons. There’s not even the length of a football field to our planned rendezvous point, but it feels far, far longer as we dodge death with every step. I see another Crusader ahead of us miscalculate and go down, screaming, encased in a black cloud of gnat-like particles.

Jones. It was Jones.

We reach the rendezvous point first and duck behind a tree. Isaiah comes running up next, and as he gets close, we duck out from behind the tree and lash out with our magic. This time it snakes like a whip, and with a terrific
crack
rips down an entire tree, crushing the demons caught beneath. We swing around to face another one coming up over the barricade. She pulls back her hands, as if to throw magic, then she freezes mid-motion. We recover and launch a lightning bolt, but she drops behind the barrier, and it flies harmlessly into the room behind. We duck back behind our tree, Isaiah safely behind one of his own to the left.

Once we’re able, we duck out to launch another attack, protecting the female Corp, then Teague and Hudson as they get close. This time, however, the demons don’t fight back.

I feel Graff’s uneasiness.
Why aren’t they fighting Us?
He ducks out and launches another bolt toward the barricade. Still no response.
Every time they see Us, they stop.

What? Are
you disappointed?

He starts as if he forgot I was there
.
He doesn’t bother to respond, but I get the general feeling of someone waiving a mosquito away.

I pause, thinking. The demons have never used magic against me, the whole time I’ve been in the Acheron. I can’t fight back; I’d be dead if they did.
They aren’t using magic because they aren’t supposed to kill me.

I feel his confusion.

This whole thing was a show, a set-up by Armand and my dad, to get me side with Hell. They still think I might join them.
I pour the information at him.
They know you came to kill me,
if I was hoping for some denial from him, I’m disappointed. I continue,
and they think your attempt to murder me will cause me to throw myself on the demon’s… mercy,
I say for lack of a better word
. They don’t realize the game’s changed, that I’ve sided with the Crusaders. Until then – they’re not supposed to kill me.

Only one person knew I was a lost cause, and I didn’t really leave him in a position to tell.

Focus,
Graff barks.
So you’re saying they’ve orders not to kill you?

Not until they figure out I’ve sided with the Crusaders.

I feel his wolfish delight.
Well that changes things, now doesn’t it?

Before I can respond, We leap from our hiding space and stride down the path, despite my frantic attempts to stop us. The demons hesitate, unclear what to do. That hesitation is all We need – with my super-amped demon-Crusader abilities, We are among them before they make a decision, flinging the whip-like lightening left and right. This close to the barricade, We can see the demons behind their trees and slash them down, bringing down entire columns in the process. Two more bounds and We’re on the top of the barricade. On the other side of the barricade are even more demons than Graff anticipated. I don’t know how many – I’m not really in a position to stop and count.

The demon’s hesitation ends, and they attack.

I think they figured it out!
I yelp, as We dive back over the barricade.

Thank God Isaiah and the three other surviving Crusaders are waiting to give us back up. With the protection of the barricade, we’re now at a stand-off with the demons.

Isaiah suddenly jerks right and, not having magic, launches a holy water globe at a demon lunging from the wood. It explodes in the demon’s face, and Isaiah leaps forward to cut his throat. He drops the demon then spins to confront another movement to his left.

It’s Jo, staggering from the wood, half-dragging a blood-soaked Chi.