The Last City (19 page)

W
hen Eli was growing up, he had burned with embarrassment every time his gran’pa had started in on his Armageddon theory. He would talk about it anywhere and everywhere – in the shopping centre, at the park, in the temple, at weddings, at funerals, at birthday parties, if anyone visited him, if he visited anyone, over the fence to his neighbours and, when they stopped listening, in the garden to the trees themselves. He was even kicked off his senior Oblong Throwing team because his endless theorising was disturbing the old ladies. One nearly had heart failure because he’d scared her so much. Grampy went on and on and on. Even when Eli and his gran’ma were sitting watching the holo-screen, with the volume turned up full blast, pointedly paying no attention, there would be this quiet voice in the background talking unceasingly about bomb shelters and long-life foods. He was like white noise. He was a subliminal message. He was obsessed. Literally the man had only two loves in life, his hat collection and thinking the world as they knew it was going to be obliterated by a massive weapon attack, and that the only people to survive would be people like him, who had the good sense to build a bomb shelter. Techs like Eli knew that if the most advanced weaponry of Scorpia was unleashed on itself, it would take more than a sunken concrete room and a few timber boards to escape the utter destruction, but gran’pa didn’t listen to this mumbo jumbo. Upon his deathbed, his last words to Eli were –
Take my hat collection . . . and build a bomb shelter . . . promise me –
before he groaned and was gone. Eli had taken the hat collection, but for many years he had resisted building a shelter. He thought he could escape it, but finally the haunting of the old man’s last words drove him to comply. He built a bomb shelter beneath a derelict house he bought for next to nothing in an industrial suburb called Tarpits. It was his shameful secret. Yet as he landed the
Summer Holiday
outside the ruined house, he wished he hadn’t made so much fun of his gran’pa.

He checked his rear-vision mirror, but the street was deserted. It was only during break times at the factories that he’d ever seen anyone in the area. He steered the craft into the hangar beside the house and activated the chameleon function of the flyer that made it and its passengers blend in with its surroundings and vanish completely. Eli sat for a moment, still gripping the wheel, his knuckles pure white. Taking a few deep, calming breaths, he managed to pull his hands away, then turned to the lunatic fugitive sitting beside him and said, ‘Hi.’

‘Untie me,’ Ev’r demanded.

Eli shook his head.

‘I said, untie me!’ Ev’r snarled through gritted teeth.

‘No,’ Eli refused, although he felt like fainting. ‘You’re still a prisoner of the state and I’m still a soldier.’

Ev’r laughed unpleasantly, cracking the dried blood on her face. ‘You sure about that?’

Eli could see she’d taken a severe bashing. One of her eyes was swollen almost shut and her neck was puffy and discoloured. Her jawline was also strangely distended and he noticed she was having some difficulty swallowing.

‘You’re hurt,’ he said. ‘I have medical supplies underneath the house.’

‘Trutt your medical supplies,’ she snarled.

Ignoring her, Eli took the diamond hanging from his rear-vision mirror. He pushed the chain over his head, and it clinked against the protective amulet he was already wearing.

Ev’r sneered, ‘That won’t help you.’

‘You sure about that?’ Eli threw her words right back at her. He popped open his door and climbed out of the craft. Flexing his tired and aching wings, he walked around to the passenger side and let Ev’r out. She struggled to move on a badly damaged leg, both trousers and skin shredded. Her eyes shifted around the hangar and Eli could see she was calculating her chances of escape. In a blur of motion, he drew his stunner and aimed it at her.

‘I don’t want to do it, but I will,’ he warned.

She growled some words, then coughed violently.

‘Through here,’ he instructed her, gesturing with the weapon.

They climbed through a hole in the wall into the interior of the house wreck. Every door was ripped off its hinges, every window broken. Glass crunched under their boots and the floorboards groaned weakly. The damp timber had given way in many places, leaving jagged and dangerous holes. The smell of mould tainted the air and black grime from the factory chimneys coated everything.

Eli led them to the centre of what was once the kitchen of the house. It had a small window looking out over the jungle backyard. Walking to the broken-down stove, Eli looked into the reflective steel over the heating plates. His face-recognition system activated and a holo-screen appeared above the stove elements. Punching in his security code, he waited a second before a trapdoor slid open in the centre of the floor, revealing a flight of narrow stairs winding downwards.

‘You first,’ Eli said to Ev’r.

She grudgingly stepped down onto the stairs. He followed her, reactivating the security. The trapdoor sealed shut above them and the shelter lights flickered on.

Ev’r reached the base of the stairs and stopped to gaze around. When giving in to building the shelter, Eli had decided if it had to be done, it was going to be done properly, so he had installed all that was necessary to live underground for several lifetimes. The result was a large open space struggling somewhere between comfortable home and technology laboratory. It was his second workshop, where he came to work away from Headquarters. The shelter was vast and, he’d thought in the past, impressive. He felt little pride now as he stepped around Ev’r and walked to his workbench. He stood staring at the wall. He put his hand in his pocket and found it empty.

‘I left her,’ he finally whispered.

‘Who?’ Ev’r asked behind him.

‘Nelly.’

‘Who?’ she repeated.

‘My . . . my pet otter. She jumped out of my pocket. There was nothing I could do.’ Tears swelled in his eyes and he blinked savagely to keep them back.

‘You’re crying over an otter?’ Ev’r laughed at him. ‘And you call yourself a soldier.’

A rare streak of anger burned through Eli and he rounded on the fugitive. ‘I could have left you to die, you know, I didn’t have to help you. I could have just saved myself and gone to help Silho. She might be dead because of me and because of you. You can laugh, but I think you’re heartless.’

‘You’re right,’ Ev’r said. ‘I am.’ She stepped under the light, her bound form momentarily just a lean silhouette, then she reappeared much closer to him.

‘Didn’t you ever have a pet, even as a child?’ Eli asked her.

‘I didn’t have
food
as a child. The animals were worked or eaten,’ she said.

‘That’s sad,’ Eli said. ‘I feel sorry for you.’

‘You should feel sorry for yourself.’

Eli heard the threat behind her words. Before Ev’r could even blink, he moved swiftly, grabbing an extra length of chain from his workbench and lassoing her as well as the chair behind her, pulling hard and knocking her into the seat. He wrapped the rest of the slack around her body and fastened it at the back of the chair.

‘Comfy?’ he asked.

Again she growled and coughed. It was a deep and unhealthy sound.

Eli left Ev’r chained to the seat and went into his medical room. He retrieved the ingredients for the medicine he’d designed for her at Headquarters and mixed them. When he came back out into the main area, Ev’r was slumped in the chair, sagging forward, as though she’d passed out. As he approached her she raised her head, looking up at him in her predatory way through her fringe of white-blonde hair. Her eyes appeared to have changed colour to a very dark green, and the skin around her fingertips was stained black. Intrigued, but not about to ask questions knowing he’d get no real answers, he stabbed the needle into the muscle of her shoulder and she jolted and cursed. Leaving Ev’r in the chair, he went to his workbench and activated the shelter computer system.

‘I dropped my communicator back at Headquarters, but I should be able to use this older prototype to tap into the commander’s line from here,’ he said, talking more to himself than to her.

‘Good for you, Snack-size,’ Ev’r muttered. ‘Tell that gadfly I said hi.’

Eli sat down. His gran’ma had always said action was the antidote to despair. He didn’t know how true that was, but he thought if he stopped too long to consider how he was feeling, he might break down altogether. If it was as Ev’r had said and the Skreaf order had been resurrected, things were about to get very bad very fast.

He picked up one of the prototypes of the newest communicator system he had designed. The machine was similar to the final version except that it didn’t have the locator screen. He ran a lead between the machine and the computer system and typed in some codes. Without a doubt the Regiment would have tapped his line, so he conducted a line-scrambling method commonly called a
hedge
. While adjusting the system settings, Eli caught a whiff of himself and almost retched. His clothes, his skin, his hair and wings all stank like skunk gas. He felt he could say without reservations that the trial of the new bombs had been a success, but that didn’t make bearing the foul odour any easier.

Once the hedge was complete, he activated the communicator and said, ‘Call the commander.’ Immediately he heard the clunk of his system locking on to another line.

‘Boss? Is that you?’ he tried.

Static hissed and a high-pitched squeal shrieked in his ear. Copernicus’ voice was only just audible around the sound. ‘Eli?’

Tears sprang to his eyes. He felt like a lost child hearing his father’s voice.

‘It’s me,’ he squeaked and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

‘Are we secure?’ Copernicus asked.

‘Yes, Commander. I ran a hedge.’

‘Eli – I heard on the system. They’re saying you killed two fellow soldiers and have absconded with Keets. They’re marking you a state traitor. They’ll kill you on sight.’

‘They weren’t soldiers,’ Eli stammered in a rush to explain. ‘They were witches. Ev’r says they were Skreaf.’

The static whispered and Eli held his breath. He expected the commander to say this was madness.

‘She may be right,’ Copernicus said instead. His voice waned, the screaming of the system drowning him out. Eli heard the commander hitting the machine and the interference lessened slightly.

‘Boss, Silho’s in trouble. I tried to go and help her, but then everything broke down at Headquarters.’

‘I know. I heard your message. We’re almost at Moris-Isles now. Eli . . .’ the commander paused. ‘Jude was attacked there as well.’

A shudder ran through Eli’s body and he said, ‘Is he . . . okay?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Why are the Skreaf attacking us?’ Eli asked.

‘I don’t know that either,’ the commander admitted, ‘but I will find out. Eli, at the Galleria there was a major attack – someone stole the Mazurus Machine. It may be connected to the —’

The line crackled and panic seized Eli’s throat. He stood up, knocking his chair to the ground behind him.

‘Boss!’

‘Are you somewhere safe?’ The commander’s voice came faintly.

‘Yes, boss.’

‘Then stay put.’ His words were faint. ‘We’ll find the others and then we’ll find you. We’re close to Silho’s signal now. Listen, whatever happens, do not free Ev’r Keets. Do not trust her for one second. Don’t —’

The line broke away.

‘Boss!’ Eli desperately punched in codes trying to reconnect. ‘Commander!’

‘He’s gone, Snack-size,’ Ev’r said without emotion, behind him. ‘He’s probably heading into a trap – and you people are supposed to be elite.’

‘What do you mean, a trap?’ Eli turned to her.

‘What do you think? The witches obviously want you trackers down, so they’re picking you off one by one. Silho and the Ar Antarian are dust, so it’ll be Kane and fairy-girl next.’

‘Don’t say that!’ Eli cried, tears bubbling out of his eyes. ‘They’re my friends!’

Ev’r snorted and fixed him with her dead calm stare. ‘Wake up. Copernicus Kane doesn’t have friends. He has servants. Do you think he would waste a second with you if you didn’t do his work and kiss his arse?’

‘That’s not true.’ Eli’s heart thudded, the words stinging like a slap to his face.

‘It is,’ Ev’r went on. She grimaced at some internal pain. ‘There is no such thing as a
friend
. Look at what happened at your headquarters. One second you’re everyone’s best friend, and the next they’re trying to kill you. They turned on you without a second thought. They never cared about you. You were just another face in their day and another way of making themselves feel better. There is no such thing as friends or loyalty or any of that trutt. There’s only one sure thing in this life – death.’

Eli fled into his storeroom. He sank down in a corner of the dark place, wrapped his wings around himself and sobbed in despair.

H
alf-dead and bruised blind in one eye, Silho took in her surroundings through the thin fog of a waking dream. Phantom forms and their shadowing shapes drifted around in the mist. An echo of a word reached her consciousness –
Omarian
. A cold draft sent a tremor through her body and a pinching sting in her arm began, growing until it eclipsed every other sense. Conjoined clarity and pain rushed through her. Silho lifted her head. Copernicus Kane crouched at her side holding a syringe in one gloved hand, the needle red with blood. Disorientated, Silho grabbed for the knife in her weapon belt and lunged at him. Copernicus easily dodged it and Diega kicked the blade out of her hand then kicked her in the chest. The Fen lifted her foot for a third time and Copernicus ordered, ‘Enough!’

Diega backed away and Silho used the wall to stand. She felt along the boards, seeing with her fingertips, and staggered towards the door to escape. Her brain throbbed as though it were a crushed lump in one corner of her skull. The attack had been devastating to her system and breathing was excruciating.

Before she could reach the exit, Copernicus grabbed her arms and pressed her down to her knees. Her struggle was brief and insignificant. She fell sideways and he caught her, half-cradling her. He touched her forehead with a cool hand. Without his jacket, she could see down the length of his bare arms, the skin marked with the satiny blue, purple and black diamond pattern of the viper bloodline. Before her eyes, the colours rippled and flowed as though the mark was the body of a serpent, gliding across his skin to the back of his hand where something had been cut out of the flesh, leaving a scarred dent and a hint of what it had been – the purple XXX insignia of his Illusionist father.

Silho scrunched her eyes shut as throbbing pain blistered her thoughts. Copernicus laid her down on the ground and she grasped at his shirt, dragging him closer to her, desperate for the comfort. She felt his cool breath on her face. He was speaking, but she couldn’t hear his words. Her hands slipped from his shirt and she curled up into a foetal position, clutching her knees to her chest. Copernicus moved around her and she felt more stinging in her arm as he injected her with healing agents. Slowly the pain stabilised and her senses cleared. She heard muffled sounds of music, laughter and clinking glasses, smelt fresh sawdust and noticed huge glass flagons of Araki and kegs of ale stacked around the dimly lit room. Silho managed to sit up. Copernicus stood close by, leaning against a barrel, his arms crossed over his chest. His dark eyes bored into her and he spoke with dangerous calm.

‘I clearly remember telling you to go home. Next thing we’re dragging you out of the ground in Moris-Isles. You disobeyed my orders. Explain yourself. Explain to me what happened.’

Silho swallowed and cringed at the pain of her raw and swollen throat. She touched her neck and found the skin burning hot and badly scratched.

‘I wanted to fix my mistake,’ she whispered.

‘Why are we wasting time with this gadfly?’ Diega burst out from behind the commander. ‘We should be back at the Galleria interrogating the Vice-Standard, forcing him to tell us where they’ve taken Jude. He’s behind this, I know it.’ Stepping around the commander, she was suddenly in Silho’s face. ‘And maybe you’re in on it too – maybe you’re a palace spy. Tell me where they’ve taken him. Tell me!’ Diega grabbed Silho by the front of her shirt and shook her. Silho’s head knocked back against a barrel and memories of the Skreaf attack, disjointed like images in a shattered mirror, flooded her mind. Panicked, she blinked into light-form vision and drew strength from the Fen’s body-lights into her hands. She rose from the ground and struck Diega with so much force the Fen slammed back into Copernicus and the commander almost fell. Both of them stood staring at her, Diega’s eyes wide with shock, Copernicus’ expression intense but unreadable.

Trembling, Silho folded back to the ground and held her aching neck. Stinging tears trickled down her face. ‘Something bad is happening,’ she whispered hoarsely.

After a pause, Copernicus stepped closer. He knelt down at her side and spoke quietly, even gently. ‘Tell me everything that happened. Start at the beginning.’

Silho swallowed and tried to order her memories. ‘I went back to the crime scene to get the samples. I know I disobeyed, but I thought . . . I just . . . A woman was there, but she was . . .’ Silho hesitated.

‘She was what?’ he prompted.

‘A Skreaf witch.’

He narrowed his black eyes and Silho forced herself to keep going. ‘I saw the demon inside her. She had a Wraith trapped. She drew on its face in blood – a triangle within a triangle within a square. Then she was trying to summon someone. I heard the name
Morsmalus
. The Skreaf was asking its help to find something – I think she said
the key
. She was going to kill the Wraith, so I electrified her and she attacked me. She cursed me and I couldn’t do anything. The Wraith fought her . . . I . . . I . . . ran – Eli . . . Jude . . . he was lying on the ground in the alley and they were all around him . . . They . . .’

‘Who are
they
?’ Copernicus asked.

‘The Skreaf . . . They tried to curse me, but something grabbed my leg and I fell . . . I fell . . . I . . .’ Words failed her and Silho looked helplessly at the ground.

Diega glared at her, incredulous. The Fen’s lips snarled and she said, ‘There is no such thing as Skreaf.’ She took something from her pocket and rattled it. ‘She’s taken too many of these.’ She read from the label. ‘Ethalam and Equinox. This is medication for delusions and hallucinations.’

Silho realised with a rush of shame and panic that they were her pills. ‘Give them to me!’ She snatched upwards even though Diega was out of reach.

Diega stepped back even further and taunted her, ‘What’s the matter? You seeing something else now?
Eizenef ore
.’ She changed the bottle into a rock and threw it across the room. Silho cried out and scrambled for it, but Copernicus’ words stopped her mid-motion.

‘Brabel’s telling the truth,’ he said.

Diega’s expression faltered. ‘But . . .’

‘Diega.’ He said her name, and his tone said everything else.

Diega paled, shaking her head. ‘Can’t be. The Skreaf were destroyed way before our time.’

‘Two of the victims at the first crime scene and one at the second were hollowed out,’ Copernicus said. ‘Their insides missing and the wounds cauterised. No insects had touched these bodies, as though they were contaminated.’

‘Because demons had ripped out of them,’ Diega murmured. She backed away until she hit a barrel and fell into a sitting position.

Silho said nothing. It matched the fragments of her vision. Two of the six dead at the first crime scene had been Skreaf, who first tortured the other four and were then killed by the Wraith – or at least the demons’ host bodies were. Silho felt eyes on her back and glanced at the walls of the room searching for the grey-skinned spectral. She remembered the Wraith saying
Omarian
. The word had no meaning to her, but for some reason felt familiar.

‘At the scene we just attended, the corpses were strung up in a pattern – the same as Brabel described,’ Copernicus continued. ‘Two triangles within a square, and I found a similar mark in an old prison area below the main floors of the Galleria.’ Copernicus glanced at Silho, at the pictures on her neck and chest, and she saw him turning a thought over in his mind. ‘And that smell – I couldn’t place it then, but I realise now that it was Skreaf magics. I’ve smelt it before, when I was younger. Now the demons have Jude.’

‘It’s her fault.’ Diega stabbed a finger at Silho. ‘He was trying to save her and got caught up.’

The commander rejected the idea. ‘In his message he said he was already under attack before he contacted Silho. She ran to him, not him to her. The Skreaf went after Eli and Ev’r Keets as well, at Headquarters. We were all targeted.’

‘We have to find him.’ Diega stood up. ‘The attack wasn’t long ago. They couldn’t have gone that far.’

Copernicus shook his head. ‘They travel through the Murk – like Keets. They can go very far, very fast.’

‘I saw them dissipating,’ Silho confirmed. ‘They had other people as well . . . a boy . . .’

Diega ignored her. ‘Then we go to Keets and force her to take us into the Murk. Make her lead us to them.’

‘She won’t,’ Copernicus said. ‘But if we go out in the open, I think the Skreaf will come to us.’

‘Why?’ Diega asked.

‘We have something they want.’ Copernicus reached into his pocket and brought out the ring. ‘And they want it badly enough to have possessed Jenkins at the Galleria and made him question me for it.’ Copernicus realised now that this was what had happened. ‘They’re desperate.’

‘The ring came from the crime scene,’ Silho said. ‘The witch was back there searching for something – she said
the key
, but maybe the ring is the key.’

Copernicus nodded. ‘This ring belonged to Stacy Shawe, Christy Shawe’s brother. He’s now missing.’

‘One of the other prisoners they had was a red-haired boy,’ Silho told him. ‘He had Galley bloodline marks.’

Copernicus pushed the ring back into his pocket. ‘First we get Eli. Then we find a safe place to stash the ring. Then we start tracking Jude.’

Before any of them could make a move, the door to the storeroom smashed open and Christy Shawe stood, a giant silhouette, in front of the light. He stepped forward with Jude’s spider robot, SevenM, hanging lifeless in one hand and a multi-headed electrifier in the other. Beams of light singled out all three trackers and the gangster king fixed them with bloodshot eyes.

‘My turn to ask the questions,’ he snarled.