Byzantine Heartbreak (31 page)

Ryan rested his hand on her shoulder. His eyes were filled with warmth.

Nia looked at Cáel. He was smiling.

“Neither of you are surprised,” she said, with growing awareness.

Cáel pressed his warm lips against her temple. “I knew for certain when I saw you just then, but I was beginning to suspect when you took me back in time after Ryan.” He smiled. “I don’t know if it’s because I’ve grown to know you and Ryan so well, or if you have both dropped your shields for me, but neither of you are hiding how you feel particularly well anymore.”

Ryan looked startled. “That’s not good.”

Nia laughed. “It’s fine, Ryan. Christian said—”

The floor under her feet began to shiver then, swiftly, to shake. She looked down at it, then at Ryan, puzzled. He put a hand on the table behind him.

He studied it as it vibrated under his hand.

“It’s not a time wave,” Nia said. “It’s not going through us.”

“It’s the station,” Ryan murmured. “The station itself—the structure.”

The alarm flashed on her desk even as Brenden’s voice came harshly through the communications channels—all of them. “We’re under attack. Everyone to the ferry lounge!”

It took moments for the meaning of Brenden’s bellow to properly assemble in her mind. Ryan was faster. He turned and ran for the door to his office. “Grab a weapon,” he warned her. “I’ll see you there. Cáel, with me!” The two of them disappeared into Ryan’s office.

Nayara ran to her desk and pulled out her two fighting knives and slipped the long knives—still tucked into their swift-draw scabbards—into her boot tops.

She turned on her implant and tried to contact Brenden, but the agency people who carried implants were tripping over each other with their communications. It was a mishmash of garbled messages. Until they calmed down and spoke one at a time, using the channels properly, the implant would be useless. She left it on, but ignored the chatter.

 
For five precious seconds Nayara stood in the middle of her empty office and considered her course of action.

Gabriel was at the root of this. She knew it as surely as she knew the shape of Cáel’s lips and Ryan’s incisors.

Why was he here? Why had he done whatever he had done to barge onto the station in force? What was here that he couldn’t find elsewhere? He had gone to extraordinary length to probe her mind. What had he been looking for?

The baby.

Horror spilled through Nayara. Terror curled through her mind. It propelled her into a spin jump, barely conceived in her mind. She reached through space, mentally and physically...

...and landed on her feet. Relief touched her, but only for a second as she looked around the big living quarters that was home for Rob, Christian and Tally and baby Jack.

The bathroom and jury-rigged kitchen were separate areas, behind her. The main room was the gathering area where everything else in their lives took place and included the ancient bed Rob had retrieved from his cottage in fourteenth century Scotland, a piece at a time, and rebuilt here in the station.

The baby was screaming in his crib, next to the bed. Tally stood in front of the crib. Guarding it.

Nia had landed just inside the front door of the quarters. Rob and Christian lay at her feet, their eyes closed. Both held drawn swords in their still hands.

Gabriel stood between Nia and Tally, facing Tally. Gabriel was bringing up to aim a long-barrelled weapon of a sort Nayara did not know, pointing it at Tally. It was sleek, solid and even though she couldn’t identify it, she recognized it was deadly by the flood of resignation and fear that filled Tally’s face as she watched it lift into position.

This, then, was what had defeated Rob and Christian.

But Tally did not move out of the way. She lifted her chin instead.

Nia yanked out her knives and jumped on Gabriel’s back.

Or tried to.

An invisible wall shielded him, twelve inches away from his back. She bounced off it and landed on her ass, the impact jarring all the way up to her jaw. Her mouth flooded with blood. She had bitten her tongue.

Gabriel turned to look at her. He still looked a little like Salathiel, but the resemblance didn’t seem nearly as strong as the first time she had met him. Had he been casting some sort of mental hold over her that first time? Maybe, yes. But his eyes...his eyes were every bit as compelling as Salathiel’s had ever been.

Gabriel studied her. He didn’t seem angry or surprised to see her. “Nayara of the forgotten Celts. You’ve come to clean up your mistake, I see. Too late, but that’s a vampire for you. Preppie, to the last.” He turned back to Tally. “Must we go through the routine, woman? I threaten, you nobly insist on protecting your bastard, I shoot and take him, anyway? Why not save yourself the agony and just hand him over?”

Tally drew herself upright and spat. The globule flew through the air then dropped, abruptly, a foot away from Gabriel. Another mental shield.

Jack was squalling loudly now, but outside the room, the station claxons were making more noise than Jack. No one would hear him above the panic and din out there.

Gabriel aimed the weapon at Tally. “Very well, then,” he said and fired. Nia jumped at him as he fired, on the theory that he would be mentally focused on Tally and his shield would be weak. This time, she landed on his back and as Tally crumpled to the ground, Nia tucked her elbow under his throat and began to squeeze. She wrapped her thigh around his chest and tightened her grip on his diaphragm. She waited for him to scrabble at her arm with his hands, which would lift his arms out of the way so she could drive the knife into the vital soft spot in his side, deep enough to puncture his kidney. The death blow for a normal human anatomy.

Gabriel tossed her across the room.

It felt like two giant hands plucked her up from his back, like an adult would sweep a child up from off the ground. She was lifted high up into the air, then thrown hard. She slammed into the wall and the blade of one of her knives punched into her midriff and buried deep in her gut, driven in by the impact.

The wall was the outer wall of the station, reinforced and stress-proofed. It had no give at all. Nia slid down to the floor, feeling broken bones already trying to knit and mend. The pain was incredible.

She pulled the knife out with a wheezy grunt and let it clatter to the floor. She looked up as Gabriel stood over her. He held Jack in one arm. The baby was wriggling and red in the face from his howling.

Gabriel crouched down. It was a bouncy movement, full of muscle and energy. Jack struggled in his grip. Nia almost cringed.
Almost
.

Gabriel grinned. “You and I are going to have so much fun,” he whispered.

She swallowed. “You’re a sick bastard,” she told him.

His smile broadened.

“I will die before I give you an inch of fun,” she added.

Gabriel laughed. “Too late, Nayara. Too late by a mile.” He touched her lips with his forefinger and this time she did recoil in disgust.

Gabriel pushed himself upright. No he
bounced
up...and kept going. He jumped up and away.

Just like that, he was gone...with the baby.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Brenden had said to meet at the ferry lounge.

Nia considered the quickest way to the ferry lounge. It was at the back of the station, almost as far away from where Rob, Christian and Tally’s quarters were located as it was physically possible to move and still remain inside the station.

She briefly considered jumping, but there would already be people there. The chances of emerging where someone else already stood was too risky.

But the kitchen was almost next door and usually deserted....

She hauled herself back onto her feet. The broken bones were repaired enough to take her weight, now. The wound in her side was still seeping blood, but it wouldn’t kill her. She wiped the blood off her knife using her own skirt and pushed the knife into her boot sheath. She had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last blood her clothing would acquire in the next little while.

She glanced around the room, as the three still bodies. Her heart squeezed in panic. She made a mental promise that she would return for them and jumped to the area behind the serving counter, that was as close to a guaranteed empty spot as one could get.

The coolness of the metal-and-tile kitchen registered on her skin as the rumour of fighting reached her ears. The ferry lounge lay just on the other side of the wall, but she would have to exit the kitchen and traverse part of the access corridor to reach it.

She pulled one of her knives and moved as swiftly as her enhanced abilities and still repairing injuries would allowed.

The lounge was a roiling mass of bodies and even as she reached the wide entryway, more agency people poured into the room from the other entrances. She paused to strategically assess the situation.

The attackers were not vampires, for they clearly did not possess the enhanced strength and speed that vampires enjoyed. For that reason, the agency people should have subdued the enemy by now. Nayara spotted at least four vampires in the room—usually more than enough.

Abruptly, a woman appeared in front of Nayara, her arm raised in a strike pose. It triggered Nayara’s instincts and she blocked the descending curved knife with the edge of her own, before it could reach her chest. The point had been aiming squarely for her heart. They knew at least one of a vampire’s weaknesses, then.

Before Nayara could counter further, a longer, heavier blade forced the woman’s knife away and there was an almost soundless ring of steel as the blade whipped across the woman’s now exposed abdomen, gutting her in a single stroke.

She staggered backwards, clutching her stomach and Ryan stepped in front of Nayara, holding his bloodied broadsword.

“They’re psi,” he rasped, his gaze on the woman as she folded to the ground. “They’re jumping to evade us. That’s what’s making them as fast as us.”

“Where is Cáel?” Nia demanded.

“He’s busy,” Ryan replied. He shook his head. “He’s fine.”

“He’s human...”

“He’s Cáel, Nia. Trust me, he’s fine.” Ryan’s gaze was steady, daring her to refute him.

Nia swallowed her worry. Ryan was right. Cáel had unique abilities and tenacity. While they had more pressing concerns.

“Where did they learn how to fight this way?” Nayara asked, watching the melee. She saw what Ryan had already seen; when a vampire attacked a psi, the psi did not retreat or dodge. They jumped...over to another vampire, who was unprepared and barely able to hold their own.

More vampires were racing into the room, with a variety of weapons.

“Our people don’t know what to expect,” Nayara gasped. “We’re vulnerable.”

The sound of an ancient war cry made them both whirl to look behind. Fifteen paces along the passage, Brenden had a psi by the throat, lifted off his feet, as the psi turned red in the face. Brenden’s big hand squeezed, until there was a wet, muffled crack of bones and the psi went limp. Brenden tossed him away and snarled. “They’re jumping beyond us, further into the station!” he cried and took off at a run back down the passage.

In Nayara’s mind, Demyan Romanov’s communications channel beeped and opened. “I’m with Brenden,” his voice whispered. “Psi appearing everywhere. What are they looking for?” The channel closed.

“Gabriel!” Ryan said. He strode forward as Nayara spotted Gabriel, too. The man was in amongst the heaviest fighting, carrying his rifle-shaped weapon down by his side. He didn’t have Jack anymore.

Where was the baby?

Gabriel saw Ryan heading for him and his lip curled back, showing his teeth. Then his gazed snapped to one side. Close to the airlock entrance to the docked ferry, Tinker hugged the wall, trying to stay out of the fighting. He had no fighting skills, but held an antique revolver in his hand, muzzle pointing to the floor.

Horrified, Nayara mentally reached for the boy.

Do not use the gun!

The percussion bullets the antique used would drill right through the outer wall of the station, exposing them to the vacuum of space.

Then she remembered that Tinker was only human and did not have any communications devices implanted, either. There was no way to reach him other than shouting and he would not hear her.

Gabriel was bringing up his long-barrelled weapon, pointing it at Tinker. “Tinker!” she screamed uselessly.

Ryan had been waylaid by another psi, that he dealt with in two quick thrusts, before moving on. His sword blade was crimson now, and dripping blood. He had seen Gabriel’s new target and altered his path, but even Nayara could see he would not make it across the room in time. There were too many bodies, too much swirling violence.

Ryan leaned forward and jumped, to appear in the clear space behind Tinker. Then he stepped around the boy, shielding him.

Gabriel fired. There was no light, no emission marking the weapon’s launch, but psi and vampires near the trajectory path were thrown aside.

Nayara watched, her over-stressed heart banging in her chest, as Tinker and Ryan were both flung backwards to slam against the inner airlock door. And suddenly, she was there and Ryan was at her feet. She had jumped without intending to.

She crouched.
Brenden, I need help. Ryan is down!
She thrust the mental alert into the ether.

Tinker was scrabbling at the floor with his hands, his body jerking, while Ryan lay very still.

Once, a long time ago, Nayara had studied human emergency nursing and the principals of triage. Now, her hand automatically fell to Ryan’s neck, to find a pulse, even as she was stepping over Ryan to reach the distressed human, who must be dealt with first. She caught the boy’s face in her hands. “Tinker! Tinker, talk to me.”

His eyes were rolling back and his face was very red and sweating. He was panting, unable to draw oxygen. Hyperventilating. She couldn’t reach him mentally or verbally. Helplessly, she tried to calm him with her touch. She glanced up at the swirling violence in the room, keeping her guard up.

Demyan’s clear, sharp mental voice shouted in her mind. They’ve sabotaged the reactor! Everyone out! Evacuate the station!

Nayara bit her lip, watching as Tinker continued to flop and tear at the floor with his fingertips. Tears were pouring down his cheeks, but he did not seem to be conscious.

Abruptly, he became rigid and still and one hand clutched at his heart. The tendons on his neck stood out like trip wires. Nayara tried to pry his clutching hand away, so that she could massage the heart, keep it going, but his hand was an iron claw, immoveable.

For thirty seconds he lay as taut as a steel bow, then he fell stringless to the floor once more. Nayara felt for his pulse.

I need help to evacuate,
she called.
I’m here.
And she broadcast the mental image of where she was.
And someone must carry Tally, Rob, Christian.
She sent a thought-image of where they lay in their quarters.

Too many. Too many to carry
.... That was Brenden’s worried sub-thought, one he probably had not intended to broadcast.

The fighting had not diminished despite the alarm Demyan had sent out. No vampire would disbelieve him, for it was impossible to lie convincingly in one’s mind. The psi, however, were not letting their quarry go.

Nayara moved to pick up Ryan and his sword. As she strained to haul him up against her chest in a position to jump from the station, Pritti appeared next to her.

The little woman sucked in a breath and clutched her head. The other hand flattened against the airlock door for support. She looked grey and haggard. “I’ll take Tinker,” she gasped.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded and held a hand flat over Tinker’s body. The body lifted into the air and rose to the perpendicular, the perfect position for Pritti to grasp him. She cried out, clutching her head again, but then shook it and stepped forward to wind her arms around Tinker. “Where to?” she called hoarsely.

Nayara showed her the place where she intended to jump to.

“See you there!” Pritti flexed her knees and was gone.

Nayara looked around the room once more, in time to see two psi land on a vampire’s chest, dropping him to the floor under their weight. A razor garrotte whipped around his neck and both psi gripped a handle each and yanked.

Nayara looked away quickly, unable to watch more. She closed her eyes, held Ryan to her and jumped.

Southwest Western Australia, 2263 A.D.

Cool night breezes touched her. Wind in tree tops.

“Nayara.” It was Pritti’s voice.

“Wait,” Nayara said, lying Ryan on the ground, then standing and watching the dark sky overhead. “Just wait.”

Pritti came and stood next to her, looking up. “It’s coming,” she whispered, after a few seconds.

The meltdown of the station’s fusion reactor was brighter and closer than Nayara expected. She shielded her eyes against the bright, false sun in the sky and turned away.

The station was no more.

“How many made it?” she wondered aloud.

Pritti was crying. “I don’t know. I can’t feel them all.”