Prodigal (Maelstrom Chronicles) (27 page)

Thick fumes billowed out of the cell across from his. He didn’t hear any more noise from the prisoners. Could be one left who’d gone catatonic with fear. Could be zero left because the daemon had gotten them. Either way, all daemons in Chanute would need to be killed.

Pistol in each hand, he crept down the hallway to find the daemon buried ears-deep in the body of a prisoner. He couldn’t tell which one because he was missing his head.

Adam raised both guns and depressed the triggers. The daemon slammed into the wall when the double lasers struck, but unlike Randall, he didn’t let up.

It clawed at its chest and tried to dodge the laser. Adam, standing in the hall, was close enough that his aim didn’t matter.

The beam finally drilled through the monster’s torso, and it collapsed. But he remembered his lessons. For it to be truly dead, it had to lose its head. He seared the daemon’s neck until the head rolled across the floor.

By now, flames were pouring into the front of the building. He headed for the rear exit, hoping Randall and Quentin hadn’t blocked it. One last prisoner hung on the door, eyes rolling wildly.

“Let me out, man.”

Adam handed over the keys. “Hurry. The roof’s gonna collapse, but the daemon’s dead.” Then he vacated the building, breathing deeply of the fresh air.

The alley behind the sheriff’s office was dark and deserted, but the noises of a melee, the booms of explosions and laser fire, echoed in every direction. The way he saw it, he had two choices.

One, head into the fray and find Claire.

Two, head toward Kravitz and save him from being kidnapped. Kravitz wouldn’t be expecting Randall to betray him.

Nobody seemed to like Kravitz, but he was a fellow sentient, and he was on their side. According to Claire, Daniel Kravitz had his uses. And he was brave as fuck, infiltrating the warlords. Nobody else knew Randall and Quentin’s plan, so it was up to Adam to do the right thing instead of heading straight for Claire the way he wanted to.

Decision made, Adam jogged around the sheriff’s office, avoiding the smoke. Daemons soared overhead, screeching, but none dove for him. Spotlights flashed in all directions. Laser fire streamed through the air. Someone scored a direct hit on a daemon’s wings, and it plummeted toward the ground and disappeared somewhere near the livestock.

He’d have to trust that whoever was stationed there knew how to handle it. He’d have to trust that Claire was all right—that she assumed he was safe and sound in the jail, where no daemons would bother to go.

The grounds around the clinic were almost as deserted as the alley behind the sheriff’s office. It was supposed to be guarded. Had Randall and Quentin already taken Kravitz and his men out? Then he noticed a faint glow surrounding the building. Must be an energy shield, like the one that had protected the scientists’ laboratory.

He hadn’t known Chanute had defensive shields at their disposal, but he’d been stuck in jail for a week. A daemon’s caw sounded above. He crept toward the clinic, listening for noises, and nearly tripped over a body half-buried in a snowdrift.

He recognized the man—one of Kravitz’s people. A quick check of his pulse confirmed what the scorch marks suggested. Dead from a blaster wound.

Raised voices, muffled and aggressive, caught Adam’s attention from the building closest to the clinic. Then gunshots. Terran ones.

He headed for the entrance, feet pounding, before realizing an element of surprise might be more useful. Instead of slamming through the front door, he creaked it open.

He was just in time to see Quentin disappear into a room. Another man Adam recognized as one of Kravitz’s lay crumpled beside the door. Somewhere inside, Kravitz cursed.

Adam huffed out a breath, wishing again for his superstrength, and glided through the outer office. Carpet softened his footsteps. How could he take Randall and Quentin? One would be occupied with restraining Kravitz, but the other would be open—open to shoot at, and open to shoot at
him
.

“Parks wants to see you,” he heard Randall say to Kravitz. “I’ve got a car waiting. Let’s go.”

“You’re crazy,” he accused. “There’s no way we can get to Chicago through a convergence. We have a better chance if we stay here until it’s over.”

“I’ve got my orders,” Randall said grimly. “You’re coming with us or you’re dead. Pick fast. Don’t make me drag you.”

“Lay one hand on me, motherfucker, and see what happens.” A struggle erupted inside the room, followed by a laser blast.

Kravitz howled in pain, and Quentin laughed. “You didn’t need that hand, didja?”

Randall, speaking a little breathlessly, warned his coconspirator, “Parks wants him alive.”

Outside, a daemon screamed again, followed by a heavy thud on the roof.

“The daemons can sense us because we’re not behind the shield. We are out of time,” Randall said. “Gotta make tracks.”

“Fuck, this is getting dicey. Let’s just kill him,” Quentin urged. “He’ll slow us down. We’ll say the daemons got him.”

If they opted to do that, Adam couldn’t just lurk outside until someone came out the door.

He peeked around the jamb, glad the door hadn’t swung automatically shut. Kravitz, bleeding hand trapped against his chest, was being held at gunpoint against the side wall near a second door. Quentin stood near the door where Adam was—almost close enough to grab.

“I’m not stupid,” Kravitz offered, his voice a snarl. “I’m going to pick going with you over being dead. Nobody will suspect anything if I’m cooperating with you, and we can get out of town without being confronted, as long as Quentin hides his fucking ugly face.”

“I don’t know,” Randall mused. “Now that I think about it, you may be more trouble than you’re worth. Hell, Parks is just going to torture and kill you anyway. But if he hears you’re alive, he’ll kill me. I’ll make this quick.”

Adam shot Quentin first.

Took two blasts—damn his aim—before Quentin gurgled to the floor with blood gushing out of a neck wound. Randal whirled and fired back.

Adam ducked back out the door. Terran construction wasn’t built to withstand laser fire, and the wall shuddered behind him. He moved his ass, fast.

“Stop Jay’s bleeding,” Randall barked at Kravitz. Adam didn’t hear footsteps. He had no idea if Randall was coming for him. He eased open the door to the next room and waited for Randall to emerge.

Granted, he was taking a chance Randall wouldn’t kill Kravitz before coming after the shooter, but he was betting that Randall’s sense of self-preservation would outweigh his wanting Kravitz dead. Sure enough, Randall ducked briefly into the hallway, trying to get an idea of who was outside.

He and Adam glared at each other for a second before Randall raised his laser pistol and fired.

Adam shot back wildly, slammed and locked the door of the room, and darted toward the connecting door.

Also locked.

He blasted the knob off just as Randall did the same on the front door. When Adam darted through the connecting door, a chair narrowly missed his face.

“Fuck! Give a guy a head’s up, Alsing.” Kravitz, face pale, lips tight, stood with a chair in his good hand.

Adam gestured toward the front door. “We gotta run.”

“You’re not going anywhere.” Randall, blocking the hallway exit, took aim and scowled.

Adam leaped in front of Kravitz. “You’ll have to kill me to get to him.” It was a line worthy of Guy Lassiter, but it was all his.

“Fine.” Randall pulled the trigger—as did Adam—and they fired at the same time.

Kravitz jerked Adam aside. They hit the wide desk, and Randall’s shot shattered a window. But Adam’s shot flew wild, too, so Randall entered the room unharmed, laser pistol trained on them.

He was about to finish them off when a fat bolt of fire took him down.

Claire and Will strode through the door. Adam had no idea which one of them had killed Randall and didn’t care. He was just glad they’d recognized the threat and neutralized it.

“Well, shit.” Claire stared at Randall’s body. “I liked him. What’s he doing trying to kill you two?”

“He was Parks’s informant.” Adam handed Kravitz his extra gun, and the man stuck it in his empty holster. “He was the murderer, too, and he killed Tonya.”

“That’s not what I wanted to hear.” Claire rubbed her wrist while Will gathered Quentin and Randall’s guns. “Are you both okay?”

“I got shot.” Kravitz grimaced and found a rag to stifle the flow of blood from his hand. “That asshole killed two of my men. How’d you know to come here?”

Claire tapped her temple. “Tracked his ass. Randall thought he’d jail-broken his sensor array from Ship, but after I found out we had a mole, I changed everyone’s arrays. Ship and I backtracked his whereabouts and figured out it was his key that unlocked the jail the night Adam heard someone with Quentin. We need to get you to the clinic where you can get that hand looked at.”

She strode to Adam and offered him a hand, which he clasped. “We went to the jail to check on you. It was a bonfire.” Her dark eyes burned into his. “I’m getting a little tired of thinking you’re dead.”

“I’m getting a little tired of nearly being dead,” he agreed.

After a long, intense moment, she grabbed him and buried her face in his neck. He awkwardly shoved his laser into his waistband so he could hold her with two arms.

“There are daemons everywhere. I’ve never seen so many.” She pressed herself to him. They hadn’t touched since the day she’d seen him consume entities. He had never felt anything as reassuring as her arms around him, her body against his.

“I noticed.” He couldn’t feel her curves through her coat and tactanium vest, but like her protective nature, it was part of who she was. Every inch of metal that dug into him was an inch of metal that guarded the woman he loved.

“We need to get you some armor and a blaster band.” Claire released him and dropped into work mode. “We’re outmanned and out-clawed, and we need every hand we can get.”

“Then I should switch to the front lines,” Kravitz announced. “Still got one hand, and the clinic shield is working fine. Hasn’t even sputtered. I’d say it’s no longer experimental.”

“You’re staying here,” Claire ordered. “If Tracy has time to fix your hand, then you can kill more daemons. I want you guarding the clinic.”

“But if the shield is working…” Adam began.

Claire’s lips tightened. “Here’s the situation. The scientists are still inside the building with their shuttle, waiting to clear out the wounded. They wouldn’t leave. But what can you do? I’m not their CO and they wouldn’t listen to me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Kravitz exploded. “What the hell are they thinking? They’re putting the whole planet at risk.”

“They’re on schedule to leave in thirty minutes, before the shades get here,” Claire said gruffly. “I don’t like it, but the daemons aren’t as much of a threat to the Shipborn as shades. I think you know how they keep daemons from dragging them to the shades. Plus they’ll have you to help, right?”

“Should have told me what I was really guarding,” Kravitz said, then tied off his makeshift bandage with his teeth.

“You’re guarding Tracy and the wounded. I didn’t want you banging around yelling at the scientists instead of killing daemons,” Claire pointed out. “Can we move past this? We got shit to do.”

“The shades will be here within an hour,” Will explained. “Should we take the fight to them and avoid collateral damage to Chanute?”

“Can’t see ’em very good away from the floodlights on the walls,” Claire told them. The door slammed behind them as they left the building. “Leaving the safety of the buildings also means the daemons are more effective.”

As they headed out, they stepped over the body of Kravitz’s man. Kravitz stared down with an unreadable expression. “Ward was a loose cannon, but he had guts. He’ll be missed.”

Outside, Claire, Will, and Adam split from Kravitz, who went back to the clinic. They jogged toward the front gates, taking shots at daemons whenever they flew too close. They killed two before they reached the city walls.

The walls were a madhouse. Several spotlights mounted in towers lit up the area for easier fighting. Because this was where most of the sentient life was clustered—by design—this was where most of the daemons swarmed. They dove and plummeted, avoiding laser blasts and attempting to capture prey.

To Adam’s eyes, there were as many human corpses as daemon ones. The rank smell of death wrinkled his whole face. “God, that stinks.”

Claire’s expression hardened into a battle mask. She sent Will to the wall and dragged Adam to a heavily armored truck where they’d stashed some weapons. Jeeps with laser rifles surrounded it, pounding away at the daemons, keeping their cache safe.

“Band him and give him a vest,” she ordered Dixie, one of the two people inside. Dixie had a bandage tied around her arm, which was probably why she wasn’t on the field.

“Don’t have any more vests.” Dixie, a streak of blood on her cheek, rustled in a lock box and pulled out a blaster band. She tossed it to Adam. “Sorry. I’m sure he has magical healing powers like the daemons and won’t die unless they chop his head off.”

“This isn’t the time,” Claire snapped. “We discussed this and took a vote. We need him, and yes, that includes what he can do to shades. Nobody has to touch him.”

The other deputy, busily recharging handhelds and blaster bands with one of the Shipborn power sources, ducked his head as if reluctant to get involved in the tension between Claire and Dixie.

“I won’t touch anybody,” Adam agreed. Dixie’s distrust pinched.

“As long as you stay in control of yourself,” she responded, lips in a frown. “We don’t know enough about what you do or why.”

He wrapped the chilly blaster band around his arm, and it warmed. “It’s time to find out. Keep the daemons off me, and we can record what I do with the shades. Link Ship in and those reporters you said were here from the Global Union. Let’s figure it out so we can use it.” He recalled the sensation of consuming shades. First came the hunger, and then they filled him, sizzling into the marrow of his bones. It frightened him more than his nightmares had in the first place.