Sunrise(Pact Arcanum 2) (15 page)

Thanks, you’re all heart.

“Your vital signature has been acquired. You will be teleported to the power facility in fifteen minutes. If you have any specific preparations or religious observances to perform, you must do so now. Once you have arrived at the power facility, you will not be allowed to leave until the shield grid is stable.”

Toby stirred in his bed. “Daddy?”

Edgar kissed his son’s forehead. “Go back to sleep, Toby. I love you.” He watched as the boy burrowed further into his blankets and stilled except for his breathing. Then he laid his hand on Toby’s head and executed the spell he had held back from casting for the entire eight years since his second son had been born.

Sentinel.

He got to his feet and walked silently to his daughter’s room. Easing the door open, he saw she was fast asleep. He stole up to her bed and repeated the spell.

Human.

He brushed the hair from her face and contemplated her features, so like her mother’s in miniature. Then he walked out of the room, closing the door behind him and made his way immediately to his study. Logging into his computer, he pulled up his Will and added a very specific bequest. After he had saved and transmitted it to his lawyer, he grabbed paper and pen, and wrote out a letter in neat Arcolin ideograms. He sealed the letter in an envelope, and cast a minor defensive ward on the outside that would prevent it from being opened without a specific counterspell. He slipped the letter into the wall safe and checked his watch.
Two minutes left.

He left the study and made his way down the hall to the master bedroom. He sat on the bed next to his wife, who was reading a book. “Have I told you lately how much you mean to me?”

She grinned at him. “No, not lately.”

“You and the kids are my whole life. You know that, right?”

She frowned slightly. “Of course. Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing. I just wanted to make sure it was something you knew.” Then he released the sedative cantrip he had cast in the back of his mind.

She yawned and put the book down on the nightstand. “Good night, Edgar. We can talk about it in the morning.”

“Sleep well, Claire. I love you.”

He watched her subside into slumber, then stood. He checked his watch.
Time’s up.
A few moments later he was surrounded by the white glow of a teleport matrix, and found himself standing next to a dozen angry Sentinels on an eight-pointed star design on the floor, at one end of a large indoor open space. In front of them, a large assembly of steel and crystal dominated the center of the room. A moment later, he felt the tingle of a jumper block go up throughout the building.

Rory Brennigan stood before the machine, surrounded by a crowd of armed Sentinels. “Brothers and sisters, I apologize for bringing you here, but we had no other option. I am here to demonstrate the spellforms you will be operating. You must maintain them in perfect balance while the coastal defense grid is established. Once the grid stabilizes, the power handler behind me can be automated, but until then, you will be the first line of control in keeping our defenses intact. No matter what happens, keep your energy flows balanced until the power handler takes over.”

Edgar said nothing as Rory ran through the spell mechanics he would be responsible for. The time immediately after the grid went up would be the most critical, as the energy would fluctuate wildly before finding its own baseline. It would be difficult, but well within the processing power of his Gift. He could see why they only wanted casters higher than second rank on it. One wrong move and the whole spell would explode in their faces. Given the amount of mystical strength involved, he wouldn’t be surprised if the collapsing waveform of a failed attempt leveled half the city.
Or all of it.

He looked around at the other Sentinels. They all had the same mixture of apprehension and determination.
True believers, the lot of them. I don’t belong here.

But he took his position at one corner of the machine without comment. Rory passed him on the way to the teleport gateway, but the Wind didn’t recognize him. Edgar chose not to draw attention to himself as the Wind, and his guards, teleported away. The other guards spread out around the perimeter of the room and waited.

Then it began. Edgar didn’t have any time to think when the energy flows poured through him. Despite his lack of familiarity with the spellforms, the magic came naturally to him, and he realized how much of himself he had given up when he renounced his place as a spellcaster.
But I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

The Sentinel guards snapped to attention and drew their weapons. In the back of his mind, Edgar felt the jumper block shiver, then fail entirely.

Nightwalkers teleported into the room from all sides and immediately tried to attack the spellcasters surrounding the power station in the center of the room. But the Sentinels that were guarding them were prepared for that, and they held the vampires back with steel and magic.

Edgar continued to work until he felt the power flows stabilize, and he was able to gently release the spell to the central machine that now blazed with green light. The sounds of battle crashed into his awareness, and he turned to face their attackers. As the other spellcasters completed their tasks and joined the fray, however, the tide began to turn against the Court soldiers. Edgar held back, watching as the Nightwalkers were dispatched, one by one. His lack of involvement was the only thing that allowed him to pick up on the subtle weaving of magic the others were too busy to notice. He tracked the weave to its source, a Nightwalker standing alone in the back of the fighting, dressed in the black and red uniform of the Inquisition, the Court’s elite intelligence service and the fanatical followers of the Night’s Herald. Edgar called up his mystical sight and saw the spell the vampire was already halfway through.

Radiant Burn.

Edgar looked around in desperation for someone to stop the casting, but everyone was busy fighting. The Nightwalker wore his anonymity like a cloak, not attacking or defending, and therefore off the other Sentinels’ radar. No one realized what was happening but him.

I can run.
The jumper block was down. He could teleport away ahead of the blast. But the Burn would destroy the power handler, and the collapsing spell would wipe out the city, not to mention leave the entire western seaboard open to attack.

He didn’t hesitate any longer than that and ran toward the Nightwalker, tapping his Gift for speed as he began his own, much simpler casting. The inquisitor didn’t see him coming, so intent was he on his work. The vampire’s body began to glow with a diamond hard white light, and he completed the spell just as Edgar reached him and teleported the two of them away.

Fifteen thousand feet, straight up.

Edgar kicked away from the Nightwalker, falling in a crazed tumble into the open air. Behind him, the vampire blazed like a comet as he dropped toward the ground. A fragment of memory drifted into Edgar’s mind from years before.
Someday, he’ll break his mother’s heart and get himself killed for the cause, just like I will.

Claire, I’m sorry.

Then another memory surfaced, the words of an angel, and the world went pure white.

Magic requires sacrifice.

CHAPTER 20

December 2032; Albuquerque, New Mexico; Eight years later

Ana slammed the car door, already in a foul mood. The traffic jam had delayed her meeting with the silversmith until after sunset, and she couldn’t afford to reschedule if she wanted to wear her new necklace to her televised interview in two days. She walked briskly up to the door of Mr. Kayani’s shop and hesitated, hearing a crash within, followed by raucous laughter. She extended a psychic probe through the door and immediately determined there were at least three Nightwalkers inside, as well as a single human mind.

The human mind suddenly latched onto her probe, forging a telepathic link.
“Help!”
said the silversmith’s desperate inner voice, suffused with pain.
“Please help! They’re going to kill me!”

Shocked at the psychic contact, she sent her voice back along the link
. “I count three of them. Are there any more?”

“No. Just three. I thought they were street thugs—but they’re not human; I can feel it. Wait! Are you alone? Oh, my God. Stay away! They’ll kill you, too. They’re all some kind of monster!”

“So am I.”
She casually opened the door and entered.

The three Nightwalkers rounded on her, for a moment ignoring the silversmith who had dragged himself under his desk and was cradling his left arm against his body.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” asked one of them, his fangs gleaming as he leered at her.

Appalled by his lack of control, she lightly probed the Nightwalkers’ mystical defenses, noting the slipshod construction of their shields.

“Fledglings,” she said in disgust. “Who the hell are your sponsors? They’re supposed to keep you under guard until you have better control than this.”

The three Nightwalkers recoiled. The one who had spoken scowled at her. “The sponsors were just holding us back. Who cares about the treaty? We’re Nightwalkers. We take what we want. We don’t need to bow before the Triumvirate for the scraps they send our way.”

Ana sighed.
Just great.
“I am Special Agent Anaba Nizhoni, Armistice Security. By your own admission, you stand in class-three breach of Armistice. I arrest you on charges of assault on a non-combatant and unauthorized public disclosure of protected information. Your unconditional surrender is required under Article One of the Rules of Engagement.”

One of the vampires, who had been silent, snorted loudly. “There’s three of us, Sentinel. Do you think you can take us in all by your lonesome?”

The third vampire looked decidedly nervous. “Guys, she said she was a Special Agent. She’s one of the Winds. Maybe we should think about this.”

The first vampire growled, his eyes turning red. “If we turn ourselves in, the others will just kill us. I’m not dying again.”

Unsheathing their claws and fangs, the three of them spread out and stalked toward her.

“Failure to surrender and attempted murder of a Triumvirate representative.” Anaba rolled her eyes. “Summary judgment is rendered against you.” She raised her hand and casually released the spell she had been silently casting since she entered the room. A burst of ruby fire leapt from her palm, forking into three tongues of flame that tracked the vampires as they tried to dodge. Each was quickly engulfed in flames and consumed. Ana watched the ashes settle with satisfaction. “Sentence is immediate and final death.”

Sike Kayani wriggled out from under his desk with difficulty, his face pale and in sharp contrast with his shoulder-length black hair. He said nothing out loud, but his amazement and gratitude swept over the link. Then he accidentally banged his injured arm against the desk and gasped in pain.

“Let me see your arm.” Ana walked through the pall of ashes and helped him to his feet

“I think it’s broken.” He held his left arm out for her to inspect. “I tried to throw them out when they started tearing up my shop—that’s when they showed their true colors.”

Ana ran her fingers over his arm, identifying the broken bone in his forearm. “This is going to hurt for a moment.”

He cried out as she straightened the bone with her limited telekinesis. Then she cast a healing spell, fusing the edges of the bone together and encouraging natural healing to accelerate the repair. “You should keep it in a sling for a few days, but you should be fine by the end of the week.”

Sike nodded and flexed his fingers. “Thank you.” He stared at the piles of ash staining the floor. “They really were vampires, weren’t they?”

Ana sighed. “Yes, they were. I don’t suggest you tell anybody, however, or you’ll probably be seeing a whole lot more of them.”

Sike turned his attention to her. “I’ve always been able to read most people’s surface thoughts, but I never met anyone who could answer back, let alone shoot fire out of their hands. Would it be impolite to ask exactly what’s going on?”

“Since those idiots have already let the cat out of the bag, I suppose there’s no harm in telling you the rest, if you agree to keep it to yourself.” She raised an eyebrow delicately. “Otherwise I can arrange for someone to come by and wipe your memory of this event, if you’d rather not know. I’d do it myself, but the fact that you’re an active telepath complicates matters. If your mind resists, there could be permanent damage.”

Sike swallowed. “No. That’s not necessary. I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

Ana smiled slightly. “You’re certainly taking this well.”

“I can be hysterical later. For now, I’m just curious. Can you tell me the truth?” He shrugged. “Maybe over dinner? My treat.”

Ana blinked in surprise. “I suppose that would work.”

“First though, we need to make those final adjustments to the necklace.” Sike’s tone turned back to business.

“You can still think about that?”

“As near as I can tell, that final fitting just saved my life. It would be an insult to my rescuer not to give the best service possible in return.”

Ana grinned. “You could always give me a discount.”

He snorted. “Gratitude only goes so far, Ms. Nizhoni.”

“Call me Ana.”

“Ana, my name is Sike. Feel free to use it.”

* * *

The two of them sat quietly in the corner booth of the Chinese restaurant as Sike mulled over Ana’s words. “So these Sentinels are genetically programmed soldiers, and they’ve been fighting vampires for millennia, but for the moment there’s a truce.”

“Basically. The treaty was signed just over ten years ago, after the truce spread throughout North America. Since we stopped fighting and started working together, we have made huge advances, starting with the creation of true artificial intelligences modeled after the Gift of Air. Once the AIs started forming their own research teams, progress accelerated in all directions. General-use teleportation, space travel, temporal manipulation—they all became possible with a combination of magic and technology. We’ve even built entire cities in hidden locations, using accelerated time.”