Undead Chaos (22 page)

Two Quaos agents stumbled into the clearing directly in front of us, gagging and choking on Quinn’s smoke. I lowered my shoulder and rammed into the nearest one like a hockey player checking an opponent into the boards. I felt one of his ribs crack and he collapsed to the ground in agony.

The second agent never saw Quinn, who took him down with a full-extension uppercut to his jaw. The guy’s eyes rolled back into his head and he flopped onto the grass. Quinn paused long enough to rub her hand before grabbing me and yelling, “Come on!”

We covered the rest of the distance in record time, but as we sped around the corner of the house, I screeched to a halt. Quinn ran into me.

“What the he—” she started, but then followed my gaze. Ahead of us were tens of thousands of bees swarming around the three burning hives. Their whispered screams of anguish filled the air as gray smoke curled into the sky. The girls on my shoulders cried, “
Mother!
” and zipped toward the clouds of their sisters.

I sprinted after them, sick with anger.

The bees were too overwhelmed with despair to listen as I tried to calm them. Instead, I ran to the Honey House, kicked open the door, yanked the lids off several bottles of honey, and ran back to the swarms. Several girls stung me on instinct.

“Inside!” I said. “Get inside!”

More stings hit me, but I continued to will my plan. Finally the message began to take hold.

“
Inside
,” one of the girls whispered. She said it louder, which was echoed from a handful more. It was repeated several times and eventually became a chant.

The swarms redirected their panicked flight and moved toward the house. Once the majority was inside, I closed the door, leaving a crack so the stragglers could get in. Satisfied, I ran back to Quinn.

“You okay?” she asked, as I scraped one of the stingers and venom sacs from my arm. Already the spots itched and had begun to swell.

“Yeah. The girls should be safe in the Honey House. It gets them away from the smoke, and the open jars of honey will give them plenty to eat. They’ll need it in order to rebuild the comb.”

I bristled with fury as the hives burned.

Queens could only fly when they were ready to mate, and that happened once in their lifetime. All three were likely dead by now.

Quinn shook her head. “That was either very brave or completely stupid.”

“Story of my life,” I said, forcing my attention away from the carnage.

She smiled. “So it seems.”

Before I could respond, a spell tore past me and blew a chunk from the exterior of the Homestead. A Quaos agent was sprinting toward us, screaming with maniacal glee as he fired another shot. I slid my arms around Quinn and yanked her to the ground. The second spell missed, melting the stone where our heads had been.

Quinn and I landed heavily. I rolled on top of her, swinging my gun toward our assailant. The agent reared back for a third spell and my weapon thundered. The first bullet went wide, but the second one clipped him high on his right shoulder. The impact jerked him sideways and he spun, collapsing to the ground in a heap.

He laughed as he pushed himself to his knees. Blood seeped from the wound and he glared at us with insane pleasure. He inhaled deeply, then pointed at us once more.

I tightened my finger on the trigger, but a black cloud billowed out of the Honey House and engulfed him.

The man uttered a sickening scream and leaped to his feet. He thrashed within the cloud, flailing like a madman before retreating. The mass followed him, but split in two as another agent appeared. The second man was also engulfed, and his screams faded as he fled.

I felt a soft presence as one of the bees landed on my shoulder.

“
Protect Keeper
,” she whispered. “
Protect Keeper Hive
.” Then she flew off after her sisters.

“I take back every disparaging comment I’ve ever made about bees,” Quinn said from beneath me as we watched the swarms continue their chase.

“Each sting means the death of that bee.” I fought the lump in my throat. “My girls are sacrificing themselves to protect us.”

Quinn squeezed my shoulder. “I guess you owe them some extra attention when this is all over.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“I’m a woman. Of course I’m right. Now, if you don’t mind, you’re squashing my bladder.”

“Oh!” I eased off of her.

“Much better. Now let’s go find some help.”

“Sounds good.”

We collected ourselves and approached the exterior door to the Homestead. With a flair of machismo that would have made Hollywood proud, I kicked it open and we charged inside.

Chapter Nineteen

Look Out Below!

The interior of the Homestead was a completely different world than the one we left behind. The hallway was cool and quiet, and our footsteps echoed off the empty corridors as we ran along the smooth marble floor. We hit the stairway that led directly to the armory, and I bounded down two steps at a time.

As we rounded a corner, I saw that the outer chain door to the armory was hanging open. The larger vault-like door was still closed. I approached cautiously, but something slammed into the back of my head.

Stars exploded in my vision. I went down, but I somehow managed to maintain a grip on the gun. I used the momentum from the fall to roll and came up in a defensive crouch. I swung the barrel toward my attacker, only to find him in Quinn’s grasp. She held him from behind and his feet dangled above the floor. Quinn’s other hand held her knife against his throat.

“Cornelius?” I asked, lowering the gun. The butler’s eyes were wide and flicked toward the woman, but otherwise he displayed no emotion. He gripped a thick silver cane. Quinn raised her eyebrows. I nodded, and she released the man.

“Apologies, sir,” the butler said in a strained voice as he adjusted his jacket. “I wasn’t aware you were on the grounds. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

“I’m fine,” I lied. My ears rang and stars still filled my eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“My duty,” he replied indignantly. “I am responsible for the overall care of this home and its occupants.”

“So you’re guarding the armory?”

“Indeed,” the butler replied proudly. “The Master tasked me with defending it until reinforcements arrived. Alexander has set up fortification inside in the event I was overpowered.”

“Ooookay. Well if you’re here, where are the folks?”

“I assume they are leading the battle outside.”

“Lovely,” I replied, feeling the knot on the back of my head. “Listen, I need some supplies.”

The butler nodded. “The armory is all yours.”

“Thanks. Go find a safe place to hide.”

“But sir, my duties—”

“Have been served in full. You protected the armory, and now I’m here. You are therefore released from your charge. You did good, Cornelius. Now get to your assigned safe room and keep your head down. Things are messy outside. Please don’t make me order you,” I added in a low voice.

The butler’s eyes widened in suppressed shock. Then, for the first time in my life, he bowed his head in a formal manner. “It has been my pleasure, young master. Please be careful, sir.”

“I’ll do my best,” I said, trying not to show the surge of delight I felt by finally earning the man’s respect.

Quinn and I watched as Cornelius vanished around the corner.

Once he was gone, we approached the thick inner door for the armory. It was locked tight, both by magic and technology. I whispered the family phrase and felt the defensive barrier drop.

“That the same knife you used on Batman?” I asked as I punched in a set of codes on the keypad next to the door.

“Had it the whole time,” Quinn replied. “Quaos never frisked me. It’s a good weapon, but I’ll need something more substantial if we run into trouble.”

There was a loud clang and the heavy bolts that secured the door unlocked. Motors whirred and the floor began to vibrate.

“Believe me,” I said as the door rumbled open, “you’ll find whatever you need in here.”

Built several generations earlier, the family armory bore a striking resemblance to the warehouse at the end of
Raiders of the Lost Ark
. Rows upon rows of huge racks stretched to the high ceiling and were packed with boxes filled with mysterious artifacts. Along the walls were tables covered in scorch marks from previous attempts to destroy or study various objects.

Quinn stepped inside. “Wow.”

I closed the heavy door, relocking it with a defensive spell. Then I led her down the center aisle.

“The armory is broken into several sections. This is part is the storage room for all types of mystical items, man-made and magical armaments, and hundreds of objects the Council can’t figure out how to destroy. The family has been the keepers of these things for centuries.

“Why you all?”

“Dad says it’s because when Homestead was built, it was better fortified than anything the Council had at the time. Why we still have all this crap is anyone’s guess.”

She glanced around and whistled.

I pointed. “At the back of this room is the vault. That’s where we keep the especially nasty stuff. There’s also a firing range, which gives us a place to test new, and sometimes very old, weapons.”

“Who maintains all this?” Quinn asked as we drew closer to the back wall.

“The family used to employ a team of armorers who would catalog items and sign them out to agents as needed. But between the advent of computers and several messy incidents with unknown artifacts, the position was permanently assigned to one individual.”

“Ho, Marcus!” the lone armorer hailed. He rose from behind an overturned metal table in front of the antiquities vault. A wizened man, he stood a hair over five feet tall and was mostly bald. He had sharp green eyes that twinkled with mischief, though they were often masked by his thick Coke-bottle glasses and bushy white eyebrows.

Alexander had been in the family’s employment longer than Healer Jenkins, but the family had no record of when he actually showed up. Rumor had it that the armory simply spawned the old man one day out of necessity. He’d stayed in the room ever since, never straying outdoors. Some said it was a fear of light, but Dad swore it was simply because the armorer preferred the smell of gun oil and musty artifacts to trees and grass.

“Ho, Alexander!”

“How goes the fight?” he asked, leaning a metal gauntlet against the table.

Had there not been a massive battle raging on the grounds above, I might have laughed. Alexander was obsessed with the Middle Ages and was always clothed in period garb. Apparently his wardrobe also included a battle uniform because he was dressed head-to-toe in a medieval suit of armor and carrying a sword that was longer than he was tall. The outfit was three sizes too large, and the helmet kept slipping down to block his eyes. He cursed and shoved the metal hat back in place, tightening the straps another two notches.

“I’m not sure,” I replied. “The barrier is up, so we had to come in through the back door. The family is duking it out with a group of nuts known as the Agents of Quaos.”

“Fools,” Alexander spat. “This domain ’tis better protected than anywhere in the known world. Any casualties?”

“I don’t know. Honestly, there doesn’t seem to be a coordinated effort, just random destruction. They even burned my hives.”

“Villainy!” Alexander cried, banging his gauntlet fist on the table. “Why, bees are the great pollinators! They carry life to the crops! They are a sacred species!”

“Believe me, I know.”

Alexander patted my arm. “There now, young sir, we will get the best of these treacherous mongrels. How may I serve thee?”

“We need weapons.”

“We?” the armorer asked. He cocked his head and saw Quinn for the first time. His eyes widened—which was saying something considering how large they appeared through the glasses.

His mouth spread into a wicked grin. “Why, young Marcus, I see thou hast tamed a fair maiden.”

“Tamed?” Quinn asked hotly.

“Easy,” I said out of the corner of my mouth, then to Alexander, “Nay, good knight. She is a fellow combatant, ready to defend our castle from invading hordes above.”

Alexander’s smile widened further, and he rose to his full, unimpressive height. “Is she now? Well, may I say what an excellent companion to have for a battle? Pray tell, young lady, can thou swing a blade?”

Quinn growled. “You think I can’t because I’m a girl?”

“Nay, nay,” Alexander grinned. “It is simply that ladies do not oft possess the same strength as men and therefore are better suited for cooking and breeding.”

“Why you little—” Quinn started, but stopped when Alexander let out a booming laugh.

“Ah, Marcus, what a gem thou hast found! Surely she has the fire of a warrior woman. Passionate, strong-willed and beautiful. She shall produce a hearty crop of heirs for the Shifter line.”

“Uh, thanks.” I blushed while Quinn turned a shade of crimson I’d only ever seen in a box of crayons. “We’re not at that stage in our, um, relationship yet. Any chance we can get those weapons now?”

“Of course! Have you something in mind?”

“Big and bad would be great.”

“Aye. ’tis always the best choice,” the armorer said, sheathing his sword. The tip of the scabbard clanked on the ground. “This way.”

We followed the miniscule man as his sword dragged past the vault door and through a larger one. The walls were covered with metal lockers, each packed with enough weaponry to level a small city. Alexander opened a padlock with a huge skeleton key. He swung the door aside and removed an impressive short-barreled gun.

“I know you prefer Modern Era weaponry. This is a prototype assault rifle. Better than military issue and capable of firing on both semi and full automatic settings. It comes with a forty-five round magazine and shoots a wide array of bullets. Durable and dependable. You can bury it in mud and it will still fire when you dig it up a year later.”

I shoved my pistol into my thigh holster and took the weapon. I ratcheted the slide back to check the chamber. It was clear. He tossed me a bag that contained at least a dozen magazines.

“Those are armor-piercing. They’ll neutralize almost any target.”

“Sexy,” I said as I slapped one into the rifle and loaded a round. I packed the rest into the empty pockets of my cargo pants.

“I see you also carry the Glock.” He nodded toward my thigh holster. “I have several loaded magazines for that model if you need them.”

“Please.”

He handed me four cartridges. I replaced the three strapped to the holster and tossed the spare into a pocket. The ammunition for both guns was bulky, but more was better in this case.

“For the less mortal enemy,” he continued, walking over to another locker, “I recommend these.” He handed me a small leather bag filled with what looked like large marbles.

“What are they?”

“Focal Stones. Small orbs of power, each from a different element. Green for water, gray for wind, brown for earth, white for energy and blue for fire.” He pointed to each color as he spoke.

“Shouldn’t fire be red or orange?”

“Blue flames burn hotter than others, do they not?” Alexander asked.

“True.”

“Use in moderation,” he cautioned. “Each one that is unleashed will cause significant damage, especially when encouraged by one’s Skill.”

“Really? These small things?”

Alexander stiffened. “Mighty power is often contained in tiny packages, young sir.”

“Good point.”

The armorer turned his attention to Quinn. “For the lady, I sense a different set of Skill. Power, for sure, but something surgical. Secretive, even.”

Quinn flushed, but the armorer didn’t elaborate. Instead, he rummaged through a new locker and removed a long, ornate scabbard. He held the handle toward Quinn and motioned for her to draw the sword. She glanced at me, but all I could do was shrug. I rarely knew what the old man was up to, but wanted to see where this was going.

Quinn reached tentatively for the hilt. She gripped it, then slowly drew the sword from the sheath. The blade was long and thin, yet hummed as it bathed the three of us in soft golden light.

“It’s stunning,” she said as the blade shimmered. “Whose is it?”

Alexander smiled. “Yours.”

Quinn frowned. “I can’t accept this.”

“You have no choice. Shifter blades are forged with the intent of being bonded to one person for life. When that life ends, the blade will not activate until another worthy to carry it is found. This sword has been in storage for over three hundred years, and not once has a Shifter caused the metal to illuminate. It has chosen you, my lady, and will serve you in combat for all your days to come.”

“Marcus?” Quinn asked turning to me.

“I’m just as surprised as you are. Heck, I’ve had my sword for over a decade, and I still haven’t figured out how the whole process works. We can sit here and gab about it if you like, or you can accept the gift and we can go upstairs and kill us a flock of madmen. Your choice.”

Quinn held the shimmering blade before her and nodded. I smiled, pleased that I wasn’t the only thing that liked her.

There was a thunderous boom and the ground shook violently.

“Crap,” I said. “It sounds like things are not going well. We should get topside.”

Alexander nodded. “Will there be anything else, then?”

I took a deep breath and gathered my courage. “Yes. I need Hexcalibur.”

The armorer’s face froze. His eyes widened and he blinked several times. After a few seconds he found his voice.

“No.”

“Alexander, please. We don’t have time to discuss this.”

The old man shook his head. “I’m sorry, my lord. You may command the use of any weapon in this facility except the ones in the vault. Those artifacts carry apocalyptic power and only exist because no one knows how to destroy them.”

“I’m not ignorant.”

“And yet you want me to give you the most destructive weapon we possess. The sister sword to King Arthur’s is not meant for this world.”

“Dammit, Alexander, I know how evil the sword is, okay? I know it causes mischief and curses to the wielder. I know it is designed to destroy normalcy. And I know it will wreak unspeakable havoc if it’s ever drawn from its scabbard!”

“Then you should also know,” the armorer replied calmly, “that as the duly appointed Armorer to your family, I am not allowed to release it from its bindings no matter what the reason. For better or worse, it must stay locked away until such time that your family can determine a way to dispose of it.”

There was another hideous boom and the armory shook. “Listen,” I said, beginning to lose patience, “I know the history, the rules and the terrible effects of the sword. Suffice to say, I still need you to give it to me.”