Stiletto (78 page)

Advance or wait?
she wondered. There was a crash behind her. She whirled to see that one of the creatures had punched through the wall of the corridor, emerged between the two operatives, and smacked Cawthorne’s gun out of his hand. Now the Retainer was backing away, holding his hand against his chest in a manner that suggested all was not well inside. The creature stalked toward Cawthorne, ignoring Felicity. The sniper looked at her and mouthed,
Run!
Then the monster slapped out, slamming him against the wall.

Run,
she thought.
What a good idea
. Instead, she stepped forward, aimed the gun at the nape of the creature’s neck —
I’ve been here before
— and fired. The creature jerked, went to its knees, then fell facedown on the floor. Cawthorne slid down the wall next to it and looked up at Felicity.

“Where’s the other one?” he said weakly. Felicity whirled around and saw the second monster coming into the hallway. She fired — or she would have if she’d had any bullets left. Just as she dropped the gun and clasped both hands around her club, a noise came from the ceiling above them.

Everyone, including the monster, looked up.

Then they looked back at each other.

The creature cocked its head, gathered itself, and leapt up, punching through the plaster. Felicity heard Odette screaming. “No!”

Where’s the ladder? Where’s the hatch?
She saw it set into the ceiling down the hall and ran to it. Behind her, Cawthorne was calling something, but she was too focused on pulling the steps down and scrambling into the dim attic.

Burrows was dead, she saw that immediately. His body lay broken by the hole in the floor. Odette was farther back, where the roof angled down. The creature prowled toward her. The Grafter girl was brandishing a scalpel in one hand, and a spur projected from her other wrist. She looked terrified.

The creature turned to Felicity, and Odette made a break for it. As she darted forward, the beast spun and raked her back with its fingers. It had no claws that Felicity could see, but under its touch, the material of Odette’s coat parted, and then there was a horrendous fanning spray of bright red blood. Odette collapsed facedown onto the floor.

“No! Mother
fucker!
” Felicity screamed and lunged forward. There wasn’t room to swing her club, but she jabbed it at the creature’s knee. The club glanced off and she lost her grip on it, but it made the creature pause, and she wrapped her arms around its wet neck and hauled it backward, tangling her legs around it so that it came down onto her. Her breath was knocked out of her. The monster scrambled to get up, but Felicity twisted and kicked out wildly, not letting it find purchase. “I will
kill
you,” she said through gritted teeth. She scrabbled with one hand for the knife taped to her other arm. Then out of the corner of her eye, she saw Odette moving a little.

Still alive,
she thought.

“Get away!” Felicity said, wheezing. Odette didn’t get away. Instead, the Grafter got to her knees and crawled over. She put her hand to the struggling creature’s chest and felt about. Then she put the point of her scalpel to the middle of its torso and shoved up. The blade merely scratched across its slimy hide. “It’s useless — go!” Odette set her face and pushed her sleeves back, and Felicity saw the muscles in her arm jerk and shift unnaturally under the skin. The Grafter winced in pain, and then she bore down on the blade once more. The instrument slid into the monster.

The creature stopped its struggles for a moment, as if surprised, but then resumed them. It flung its head back and missed giving Felicity’s skull a hammer blow by centimeters.

“A lovely effort,” said Felicity through clenched teeth, “but
please go!
” Odette pulled the scalpel out and held up her other hand, and her spur slid out. She plunged it into the cut, and her brow furrowed.
Poison,
thought Felicity.
Maybe...
The creature tensed, and then kept fighting. Felicity’s muscles were tiring, and the monster’s strength was getting the better of her. “More!” gasped Felicity. “Use everything!” Odette pushed the other spur in. The creature was pushing up off the floor. Odette’s face twitched, and the monster faltered. “Again!”

And it all stopped.

Oh, thank Christ,
thought Felicity. The monster lay limp, not even twitching. With an effort, she rolled it off her. Odette was on her knees, breathing heavily, her head bowed. She helped Felicity sit up, and then the two women held each other tightly.

It was unclear who was more shocked by the hug, but neither let go immediately.

When they drew back, Felicity saw blood all over her hands.

“Your wound!” she exclaimed in horror, running her hands over Odette’s back. “Lie down on your stomach, we need to get pressure on it!”

“It’s fine, it’s not me,” said Odette. “It’s just my jacket.”

“Your
jacket?
”

The Grafter girl held up a fold of her coat. “It’s woven crab cells,” she said. “It can solidify into armor, although apparently it’s not quite strong enough to resist these things.”

“You nearly gave me a heart attack,” said Felicity. “Are you okay?” She noticed that the Grafter’s right arm was hanging weakly.

“I think I tore some muscles in my arm,” said Odette. “I had to rearrange them to get the scalpel in, and I couldn’t do it properly. They’re not designed to give extra strength but I wrenched them into a position that let me do it.” Felicity winced.

“Are you right-handed?”

“Usually,” said Odette. She wrinkled her nose. “But not at the moment.”

“Okay,” said Felicity. “Let’s go downstairs.” With an effort, she got to her feet and scooped up her club. “Come on.” Cawthorne was still sitting where she’d left him, his eyes closed, but he opened them as the women came down the stairs.

“Oh, you got her,” he said. “Good.” Felicity made the introductions, and Odette one-handedly examined his injuries. The diagnosis was not good, but it was not as bad as it might have been. Broken forearm from where the monster had slapped his gun away. Broken ribs and possible concussion from getting thrown into the wall.

“You’ll live,” she said.

“Lucky old me.”

Odette bent down and examined the corpse of the monster on the floor, prodding carefully with a combat knife she borrowed from Cawthorne.

“What are you
doing?
” whispered Felicity fiercely. “These are inhuman creatures that may have been locked away for centuries; we have no idea what kind of toxic crap is inside them.”

“This one is wearing a wristwatch,” Leliefeld pointed out.

“I beg your pardon?” As Felicity looked on, the Grafter poked at the thing’s hide with her knife and, after a bit of effort, managed to saw through it. “Odette, this is not the time or the place to conduct an autopsy.” Leliefeld ignored her, making two cuts and peeling a corner back with the point of the knife.

“I think this hide is actually clothing,” she said. “It looks like it’s been welded to the skin and strengthened with a sort of resin.”

“Oh, crikey, you’re right,” said Felicity. “Look, there’s that tacky trademark thing on the chest.” Odette carefully made an incision at the creature’s hairline and peeled back the membrane. A thick clear syrup drained out, and a man’s face was revealed, his features twisted in pain.

“That’s one of the missing graduate students,” Felicity said.

“Are you sure?” asked Odette.

Felicity nodded. “I remember his picture from the file.”

“So they’re civilians,” Odette said. “And maybe the Pawns that got snatched away. Locked into these suits.”

“Tragic,” said Felicity.

“Since they’re normal people, that might explain why they’re so vulnerable in the middle of the face,” mused Odette. “Whatever’s capturing them, it can’t layer that stuff over their eyes, or they wouldn’t be able to see. Apparently they can see through the liquid and the membrane, but the hide is too tough.” She poked gingerly at the membrane. “It’s much stronger over the mouth and nose. I suppose the eyes are the only weak spot.”

“Good to know. But we should get out of here,” said Cawthorne, and he struggled to his feet. “The gaping holes in the walls and the floors are probably a good signpost to other creatures that we’re here. And the gunshots probably gave the game away as well.”

“Agreed,” said Felicity. “But we need to let the Checquy know about this. Killing them may not be necessary if there’s a possibility these people can be saved.”

“Let’s make the call from somewhere else,” said Cawthorne. “And I can tell you now that if we see any of them before backup gets here, I’m shooting them.”

“Agreed,” said Felicity.

“Agreed,” said Odette.

*

They let themselves out the back door and decided to find a place that was easily defensible and then wait for rescue to arrive. After shuffling along painfully for a while, they came to a passage where two houses leaned so close together that the sky above was just a narrow strip of smoky blue.

Cawthorne sat with his gun pointing in one direction, the women sat with Felicity’s gun facing the other way. Felicity was about to call the Checquy when faint voices came through over Felicity’s headset and Cawthorne’s earpiece. A voice identified as Pawn Bourchier was advising all Checquy operatives in Muirie that backup troops had arrived and were moving in. Anyone needing medical attention should advise. Various Checquy people chirped in from around the village, but there were very few injured. It sounded like most of the combat teams were dead.

“This is Pawn Clements,” said Felicity. “Party of three, serious injuries on... one?” She looked to Odette, who shrugged and nodded. “Also, we have important information about the threat.” She explained its true nature. Bourchier did not sound best pleased with this revelation but thanked her for the information. He advised that he would send medics to treat Cawthorne.

“Do you know where you are?”

“We’re in the snackwallets,” said Odette.

“The
what?
” said Bourchier.

“Or whatever the hell you call them,” said Odette sourly.

“The snickelways,” said Felicity.

“The
what?
”

“The fucking alleyways,” said Felicity.

“You would be astounded at how little that narrows it down,” he said.

“No, we wouldn’t,” said Felicity. “We’re off Broy Lane, just next to number ten.”

“Roger that, we’re on our way. Sit tight.”

They sat.

Early the next morning, before the sun had even begun to rise, the plane lifted off from Dundee bearing two extremely tired women.

“You know, the doctors could have taken a look at your arm,” said Felicity.

“The painkillers were enough,” said Odette, but she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Besides, I’ll need to get Marcel to reweave the musculature. A regular doctor would probably...” She trailed off.

“Fuck it up?” suggested Felicity.

“It’s best to get a certified repair agent to work on these things,” said Odette.

“Otherwise it might void the warranty?” asked Felicity.

Once the troops had rescued them from the snickelway and brought them to the encampment a mile outside Muirie, doctors had swarmed over them. Cawthorne was spirited away, and the doctors had been aghast when they finally took Odette’s coat off and saw the gnarled muscles that wound up her arm and across her shoulder. She had waved them off (left-handedly) and ordered a special cocktail of painkillers that had them blinking in bewilderment. By the time she and Clements had been checked over and debriefed, it was too late to go back to London. They’d slept uneasily on camp beds and were woken at four in the morning and transported back to Dundee.

They were dozing in their plush seats when word came through from the cockpit that the troops had finally infiltrated the church crypt and found the source of the problem. The pilot didn’t have many details: “A humanoid, very quick, and coated in layers of secretions.” The Checquy had “subdued it,” which could have meant any number of things but definitely meant that the problem was over.

This briefing complete, Felicity was just drifting off again when her phone rang.

“Hello?” she said, without opening her eyes.

“Pawn Clements, this is Trevor Cawthorne.”

“Hi,” she said in surprise. “How’s your arm?”

“In a cast,” said the Retainer. “But still attached.”

“And your brain?”

“Light concussion.”

“Glad to hear it,” said Felicity.

“Thanks. I have some news for you and Miss Leliefeld,” he said.

“I’ll put you on speaker,” said Felicity, plugging her phone into the console. “It’s Cawthorne,” she explained to Odette.

“The historians finally found something in the records about Muirie,” said Cawthorne.

“We already know the monster’s been taken care of,” said Felicity sleepily. “I don’t really care about its provenance.”

“I think you might,” said the Retainer. “The mention of Muirie was in the Checquy burial records.”

“What?”

“A Pawn Hamish Reid was buried in the crypt of the Muirie church in 1502.”

“No,” breathed Felicity, coming completely awake.

“Served in the Order of the Checquy from 1460 until his death. Regular hero — helped put down some big monsters in his time. The records say he could sweat a sort of paste, ‘livid in hue, that bent men’s minds to his will and gave them vigor.’ It sounds like a junior version of the crap that was coated all over the people we fought. The Pawn was laid to rest in his home village.”

“So you think that a dead Pawn of the Checquy, decorated for service to his country and buried with full honors several hundred years ago, suddenly started snatching innocent people and turning them into his drones?”

“I think people can change,” said Cawthorne. “Especially if they’ve been buried alive for a few centuries.”

“If Pawn Reid wasn’t dead, not the way they thought, then who knows how his powers — and his mind — might have warped?” put in Odette.