Summoned Chaos (4 page)

I gripped it with a feeling of guilt for always taking what he offered, but never returning the favor. “You too,” I said earnestly. “And thanks. Not just for healing my headache, but for always being there. Sometimes I forget that people need to know when they’re appreciated, so I want to make you know that it’s been a pleasure serving with you on the rift team. Plus, if it wasn’t for you, Alistair would be in a lot worse shape.”

The Healer released me, beaming with pride. “You’re welcome, but I was just doing my job.”

“Well keep doing it. The way things are going, we’ll need all the capable Healers we can get.”

“Give me a call,” he said, then pushed open the door.

Something outside yelped with surprise. Mick and I turned to see who made the noise, then the squat man dropped like a rock as a knife slammed into his chest. He crumpled to the ground with a grunt.

Before I could check on him, we were both thrown backward as the door caved from the shockwave of a massive explosion.

Chapter Three

A Mimic Is an Awesome Thing to Waste

I landed hard on the marble floor, sliding several feet before slamming into the security desk. My ears rang as I blinked to clear the stars from my vision.

Next to me, Mick winced in pain, but rotated onto all fours. The knife had caught him just below the right collarbone. He shoved one of his hands against the wound, murmuring words I couldn’t hear, but the heat that pumped from his body signaled he was performing a Healing Spell.

Smoke and debris filled the entrance while the shrill cries of the building’s alarm rattled inside my head. I wobbled upright, grasping the cracked security desk for support, and turned toward the entrance. Streetlights illuminated dozens of shadows as they burst through the haze into the building.

The creatures were long with flaps of yellow, furry skin that hung from their bodies like the folds of a bloodhound. They had flat, featureless faces, scrawny arms and legs, and thin lips that curled back to reveal rows of sharp teeth. With the addition of high cheekbones and black-orb eyes that were set wide apart, the creatures had a freakish, humanoid appearance.

They charged into the entrance on all fours like a pack of rabid hyenas.

The majority skidded across the polished floor as they galloped down the hall, but three continued toward Mick and me at full speed. I drew the Glock, but the lead beast plowed into me before I could pull the trigger. The impact tossed me onto my back once more, knocking the gun from my hands.

I expected the creature to attack, but instead it launched off of my chest and crashed into the guards at the security desk. The three of them collapsed into a heap of snarls and startled curses while a second beast pounced on me. It raked fingers across my chest, but the talonlike fingers caught in the webbing of the Kevlar. It jerked its hand in an effort to free itself while I reached beside me and snagged the Glock.

As I turned back, however, I froze.

Gone were the sallow, sickly features. Instead, I found myself staring at my mirror image, complete with my vest and holster. Mirror-Me cocked its head like a bird, sneered, then raised a fist full of claws overhead.

Instinctively, I swung the Glock upward and pulled the trigger. The gun thundered and the hollow-point punched a large, bloody hole in the chest of my attacker. My other face contorted with pain as the area around the wound trembled. The outfit began melding together in both color and shape.

The sight nauseated me, but I squeezed the trigger again. My hand bucked with the recoil and the creature fell off of me. It gasped while the “clothes” melted back into folds of sickly, yellow fur. The creature heaved once, then went still.

I stared at the featureless face, horrified that my own had occupied the space seconds earlier.

Someone cursed nearby. I spun, aiming the Glock in the direction of the sounds, but immediately released the pressure on the trigger when I saw Mick drive the knife into the eye of his own mirror image.

The creature writhed in agony as the folds of skin relaxed. Mick jerked the blade out and the creature bucked, clawing at the gore pouring down its face. Its wail echoed down the long hallway, but the cries died quickly as the beast slumped to the floor. Mick, knife in one hand and pressing his own wound with the other, spat at the corpse.

I took a step toward him, but ducked out of the way when the male guard flew backward over the desk.

He struck the far wall, then slid to the ground. As he rose on unsteady feet, the blonde guard stood, reared back, and hurled one of the chairs at him. It sailed across the hall, knocking the man into the wall once more. He dropped to the floor again but this time he stayed down.

“What the hell was th—” I started to ask, but the female guard leapt over the desk. She tackled me like a linebacker, driving me to the ground once more, then straddling me with her long, powerful legs. I grunted with surprise as her thighs crushed the air out of me.

I reached for her, but she slapped my hands away.

There was a deafening
pop-pop-pop
and three holes appeared in the woman’s chest. She wobbled as the blue uniform turned yellow. The delicate bones of her pretty face flattened while her firm breasts elongated. She coughed blood, then flopped forward, pinning me to the ground. The smell of rotten meat filled my nostrils.

I shoved the dead body off of me as hard as I could, then sat up.

“Stay down!’ the real female guard snapped. Before I could react, she’d leaned on the security desk and opened fire.

Bullets tore through the smoke outside the entrance, followed immediately by yelps. Several creatures collapsed onto the stairs outside.

Keeping her weapon trained on the door, the guard maneuvered around the remains of the desk and approached the entrance. She placed her hand against a small bio-pad that scanned her palm. The lights on it blinked green and I felt rather than saw the powerful hum of a defensive spell activating.

I stared at the shattered doorway, too stunned to do anything more. The Council tended to avoid modern technology, so the fact that they’d installed a system so advanced—and one that seemed to allow Normals access to spells—was a shock.

I’d definitely want more information on it when the dust settled.

The woman spoke into a small radio. “This is Klein. We have a breach at the front entrance. At least a dozen Mimics are inside the wire. I’ve activated the emergency defensive barrier, so the building is secure for now. Radcliff is down.”

I couldn’t hear the reply, but the woman nodded. “Acknowledged. There’s a Healer on the scene, but I’ll keep this channel open just in case.” She returned the radio to her belt, then trotted to where Mick was already working on the fallen guard.

“Dislocated shoulder and probably a concussion,” he said as we approached. “Multiple lacerations to his face and chest. Several are extremely deep. I’ll stabilize him as best I can until he can be moved.”

“What the hell are Mimics doing here?” I asked, trying to wrap my head around what had just happened. Blood, along with several clumps of yellow fur, covered the front of my vest.

The guard frowned. “I don’t know, but they destroyed our initial defense spells easily.”

We all jumped as a Mimic slammed against the defensive barrier. The shield exploded with blue sparks, but held. The creature rebounded with a blood-curdling scream, then threw itself at the hazy barrier once again. The guard opened fire and the Mimic flopped dead onto the stairs outside. Two more appeared, clawing at the barrier.

“All units, Klein again,” she said into her radio. “Things are heating up, so some support would be really nice right about now.”

The radio squelched with the reply, which I lost to the sound of the woman emptying her magazine into the creatures. Blood splattered the stairwell as they fell.

“These guys are really starting to annoy me,” she muttered, swapping magazines with practiced ease.

I looked from the dead Mimics to the guard.

“What’s your name?”

“Elsa.”

I held out my hand. “Nice to meet you, Elsa. I’m Marcus.”

She gripped my palm, then released me. “I know.”

“I just wanted to tell you that anyone who’s ever had reservations about Normal guards is completely wrong.”

For the first time since the attack, she cracked a grin. “Just doing my job.”

“Speaking of which, do you think you can manage this solo?”

“For now, yes. The barrier should hold and I’ll drill anything that gets close until reinforcements arrive.”

“Awesome. Mick, keep working on your patient, but help this bad-ass out if things get messy.”

“Where are you going?” he demanded.

I swapped the empty magazine with a fresh one from my holster, jamming it into the grip of my pistol. “Hunting.”

* * *

The first two corridors were deathly quiet. I sprinted through them at full speed, skidding around a corner, and continuing down a third. Several doors had been smashed open and the contents of the rooms destroyed, but I was relieved to see that all of them appeared empty.

As I neared the end, I heard the unmistakable sound of combat coming from the conference room where I’d been grilled earlier. The familiar rush of fear and adrenaline poured into me and I barged into the room before my rational brain could talk me out of action. A large, orange fireball blew the wall above me into kindling and I dove behind a row of chairs for cover.

“Hey! Good guy here!” I shouted as another fireball vaporized the chairs next to me.

I swept my hands toward a third ball heading for me. The air in front of me shifted to form a wedge. The burning sphere hit my barrier, splitting in two, and torching the area on both sides of me. I scampered sideways, desperate to get clear of the tiny inferno.

“Marcus?” a raspy voice asked.

I poked my head over the smoldering remains of a chair. “What the hell, Pell?”

The old man lowered his hands, pausing to wipe the sweat pouring down his face with the cuff of his robe. His staff, long and twisted, still glowed with orange light. “Apologies, my boy,” he said as I extricated myself from the wreckage. “Those damn Mimics were everywhere.”

I wrinkled my nose at the overpowering stench of burning meat. Several large mounds of flesh smoldered nearby. Smoke from the charred remains of the Mimics drifted toward the ceiling.

I gazed in awe at the damage. “Whoa.”

“I’m old, not weak.” Fire burned in his eyes. “People tend to forget the latter.”

“No kidding.”

The wrinkles on his face deepened as he surveyed the carnage. “What the hell is going on?”

“Mimics blasted through the main entrance. They took out one of the guards and wounded Mick. We killed the three that attacked us, but there are still more trying to get inside. The other guard and Mick are holding down the fort.”

“Do they need help?”

“Already en route. I have every confidence the female guard can hold her own until they arrive.”

Pell nodded, then stared at the corpses. “Mimics,” he muttered in disbelief. “They’re carrion eaters that are normally skittish and solitary. They avoid human contact at all costs and they never travel in packs. What the hell caused them to turn aggressive like this?”

“They’re certainly breaking with tradition. Heck, some are even armed.”

“Not unheard of, but it does complicate things.”

“Not the words I’d use, but sure.”

He eyed me, ignoring my humor. “You say more are in the building?”

“My count was around a dozen. Between the bodies here and at the entrance, there are four, maybe five still inside the perimeter.”

“Well then, let’s kill the bastards.”

I smiled. “I’ve always liked you, old man.”

The Wizard grinned. “Just don’t get in my line of fire.”

“Literally.”

We exited the room. “So, where to?”

I scanned the hall.

I pointed to my right with the Glock. “The Mimics tore up the offices in this hallway, so my guess is they are heading that way.”

Pell darkened.

“What?”

“Come.”

He took off faster than I’d thought him capable. We jogged down the corridor, made a right, and pushed through a set of double door into a large conference room. Briefcases, laptops, tablets, phones and a wide assortment of papers were strewn about the room. The rich, leather chairs were ripped to shreds. Claw marks covered the long, wooden table. The smell of scorched flesh and fresh blood still lingered in the air.

“Damn,” Pell said, moving around the chairs and kneeling next to the body of a young man in an expensive suit. Blood pooled beneath him, pumping from the deep gouges carved into his chest and neck.

Pell placed his hands over the wounds, but no Healing Spell in the universe would bring color back to the young man’s ashen face or sight to his unseeing eyes.

I stared at the kid, feeling sick with rage. His outfit screamed “Normal,” but there was only one way for me to be sure. I reached out with my senses, but the body didn’t radiate with the slow dispersal of Skill. All I felt was the cold void of death.

Normal or Skilled, my anger over his death bubbled beneath the surface, begging for release. The emotion would certainly give me a boost, but it would destabilize my spell-making ability unless I got it under control. I gritted my teeth, struggling to reshape my rage from a wild, unstable inferno into a single, scorching flame.

When we found the surviving Mimics, that surgical precision would mean the difference between targeted kills and unleashed hell that might harm innocent bystanders.

“What was he doing here?” I asked as I slowly bottled the fury building within me.

Pell removed his hands from the victim, wiping the blood off his palms. “Council meeting,”

“This late?”

“Details later, Marcus.” He rose slowly to his feet. “Let’s deal with the Mimics first, okay?”

“Trust me.” I double-checked the last spare magazine clipped to my thigh-holster. “I am all about dealing with them.”