Angel Of Solace (27 page)

“It would have been their choice,” Kronn muttered, knowing how weak it sounded. It was the exact reason he had been so hesitant to even think of an attack like that in the first place. 

Portis stood from his chair and paced to the opposite side of the room. It was out of character for him, and Kronn wondered idly if he was really just that desperate, or if the shift in body language was intentional.

“Look, you’re fully aware that we’re searching for Marivean and Sariel, so there’s no need to pretend otherwise,” Portis told him flatly. “If you help us get a hold of her, it would expedite matters, but we do have other options. We’ve been operating under a false assumption for decades—we believed the Angels were quite different than Demons. You believed this, in fact. We might not have had a convincing explanation as to why, but the results were right there in front of us. Most Demons had no real power and weren’t a threat to anyone.”

Kronn felt his stomach tighten. If this was going where he thought it was… “What are you getting at?”

Portis might have smiled briefly—it was hard to tell in the dim lighting. “Getting a hold of Demons for study is quite easy. We’ve been doing it for years, as you well know. And now we happen to have in our possession one that you yourself once described as having ‘incredible potential.’”

Kronn did his best to keep his face controlled, but he knew full well he didn’t succeed. They were going to offer him a simple choice: Shyrah or Sariel. One would suffer, and the other had a chance to go free, at least for the time being.

At least, that’s what they wanted him to think, but he knew it was more complicated. If he willingly gave them the location of the new Asuran base, they’d get their hands on dozens of other Demons he had already provided them baseline medical data on—they would never pass up that opportunity. And on top of that, he wouldn’t believe Portis even if the man said he would let Shyrah go once they had Sariel. No, this wasn’t really a choice at all.

“You won’t learn anything from her either,” Kronn said. “You won’t learn anything from any of them. Your only chance is to get a hold of Marivean and find out what he knows. Test subjects aren’t going to fix this problem.”

Portis just stared at him for a long moment. “My superiors insisted you had become emotionally compromised months ago, but I argued that you were still our best option. You had been providing us invaluable data for years, but now…” He shook his head. “You were a rational man, once, Sam. You understood the importance of what we were doing. If anything, I would think this newest revelation would convince you that you had done the right thing. We are at war, and most people don’t even realize it.”

“So let us fight with you,” Kronn said. “Help us go after Marivean. We can both get what we need and figure out a way to beat them. We’re not your enemies.”

“You didn’t used to be,” Portis replied softly, glancing up to the men in the back of the room. “Right now I’m not so sure.”

Burly arms wrapped around Kronn from behind and dragged him to his feet. “You’re just wasting time, Mark. Let us work
with
you.”

The other man eyed him warily for a long moment. “This isn’t about me or what I want. I have my orders, and we’re going to find that Angel of yours. You know what we’re capable of, Sam—don’t let it come to that.”

Kronn didn’t reply, and a moment later the two guards hauled him back to his white cell. They wouldn’t keep him here long, maybe a day at most. They knew their normal procedures probably wouldn’t work on him, but they also understood that knowledge could work both ways. Portis would want him to sit here and think about what would happen to him if he didn’t cave. They wouldn’t bother with starvation or sleep deprivation or anything so banal. No, they would skip right past all that and get straight to the pain—

Or they would simply hurt Shyrah. Probably within earshot of him, too. They thought of him as loyal to his people, and he had thought that of himself only a few days ago. But so much had changed since then. Maybe he had changed.

It was his fault she was here, and not just because he had gotten sloppy sending a message. He had placed her in this position, just as he had with all of the Asurans. He had lied to their faces on a daily basis, and now it was all coming back to haunt him.

He deserved whatever he got, but she didn’t. Portis would know that, and he would use it. He would make her suffering part of the show, and Kronn would either have to deal with it, or he would have to give in. Give in…and sentence Sariel to an even worse fate.

Kronn smacked the stone wall and then flattened himself against it, trying futilely to choke back the tears.

***

“How’s this going to work for you?”

“Huh? Oh,” Corin said, turning and looking surprised that there was anyone else even here. “It’s not bad. The wiring in here is pretty terrible, but in the short-term it should work out. A lot more space, too.”

“Definitely,” Damien agreed, glancing about the room. The base was definitely larger than their old one and more thoroughly divided. It was exactly as Stanson had described it, an abandoned apartment complex. It was only three stories, but it had two dozen rooms, a lobby, and several other service rooms they could probably stuff with supplies and equipment. For now Corin had set up on one of the first floor rooms; in the last eight hours, he had somehow managed to fill every square meter with computers, data sticks, and crates that held more of both.

“Shy will like the privacy,” the man murmured as he turned back around. “She always hated it when we had to use group dorms.”

Damien sighed softly and clapped the man on the back. “We’ll get her back.”

“I know that,” he said indignantly. “Trust me, they have nothing to throw at her she hasn’t seen before.”

He thought back to earlier in the week when he had first met them and almost immediately saw them arguing. He hadn’t seen it at all then, but he really should have. They cared about each other a great deal. He might have even loved her. In the last few days alone, Damien had seen that quiet bond reflected in the eyes of many of the other Asurans, for Kronn and for each other. It was a trust that only came from living a life like this together.

“Remember to try and sleep at some point,” he added after a moment.

Corin grunted. “Yeah, when I get the sifters up. Not before.”

Damien wondered if the man would even sleep then, but it wasn’t really his business. He probably just needed to feel useful, even if there wasn’t much of a chance of finding them. Damien was no technical wizard, but he imagined that if anyone was good at hiding, it would be an intelligence agency.

He left the room and walked over to the one he had claimed as his own. He thought about checking on Sara—she had grabbed one of the rooms on the top floor—but then decided against it. She might have already been asleep, and he didn’t want to interrupt.

I’m not asleep.

Damien froze and blinked at the sound of her voice in his head. It was perfectly clear, and his thoughts flashed back to the ship when he had first escaped.

Come upstairs
, she told him.
There’s something I want to show you.

He had no idea how to respond, but he nodded anyway. He had known she was going to try out her powers again, to test and see how far she could reach out right now. But she had also promised not to do anything severe without him in the room. Of course, he had no idea what really constituted a severe effort for an Angel. He could try as hard as he wanted and not send his thoughts like that.

A few minutes later he was up on the top floor. Moonlight filtered in through the dirty windows, bathing the hallway in an ephemeral blue light. The door was open, and a brighter silvery glow came from within. He tapped on the doorframe and then stepped inside.

And his mouth fell open. Sariel was inside, facing the window opposite him. She was wrapped in a blue dress, sparkling and backless, and she stood delicately on a pair of Regante heels. Her white hair was tied up with a shining blue ribbon in it, and she slowly pivoted around to face him.

“Hey, there,” she said softly, a faint smile on her lips.

“Uh…hello,” he muttered, trying to find his breath.

Her smile widened. “Aren’t you supposed to be the master of this type of thing?”

“I’m…kind of rusty, I guess.”

“After a week?” she asked furtively, sliding over to within a meter of him. “So what do you think?”

He shook his head. “You look amazing.”

“It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

He paused, a thought clicking in his mind. Yes, it was what he had wanted—exactly what he had wanted, from the shoes to the cut of the dress. He remembered the glow he had seen from the hallway, and suddenly it all fell into place.

“You’re in my head,” he reasoned. “This isn’t real.”

“It’s real enough,” she assured him, reaching out her hands and touching his. He gasped as her feelings washed over him. He could feel her softly in the back of his mind, weaving a subtle illusion just as he did with his clients.

Damien ran a hand across her cheek. “You don’t need this. Let it be real.”

He felt her subtly pull away from him, and the room shifted just slightly. It was all the same except her. She was still in front of him, holding his hands, a bit shorter but no less lovely. A sheen of silvery radiance billowed off her skin.

Sariel lifted herself up on her toes and kissed him. The waves of her lust crashed into his own, and he had never tasted anything as sweet as her lips and tongue at that moment.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen,” she whispered into his ear as she slowly pulled away. “I don’t know if I can stop Marivean, or if tomorrow I’m finally going to lose my mind. And I don’t care. Right now, all I know is I want you.”

“I’ve never…” he breathed. “I’ve never felt like this, not with a real—”

She placed her fingers at his lips. Her hand dragged along at his back while her lips traced his ear. “Take me,” she pleaded. “Right now, for real. Please.”

He kissed her again, clawing at her body. She dragged him across the room towards the bed as she shredded his clothes. Within seconds she had pulled him down on top of her.

Damien pushed her skirt aside, and she stretched her legs on top of his shoulders. He pressed down until her knees were nearly touching her chest and then slowly entered her.

The spark exploded. He could feel her pleasure as sharply as he could his own, and it nearly sent him over the edge before they had even begun.

Damien had been with hundreds of women over the last few years. Many were repeat customers, but he had the opportunity to lie with all types of women, young and old, beautiful and ugly, charming and dull. And after delving through all their minds, coaxing out their secret passions and lying next to them as pleasure took hold of their bodies, he had become desensitized to it all. He was still a man, and there were certain customers he really enjoyed working with, but over time it had become a job like any other.

But this was different. She was different. Her beauty was paralyzing, but it was more than that. She was at once so delicate he feared she might break with a touch and yet so powerful he trembled to think what she was truly capable of.

He pushed deeper, and his mind flashed with white hot flame as he tasted her flesh and mind all at once, an indecipherable mix of pain and pleasure, man and woman.

Angel and Demon.

Chapter Seventeen

On some perverse level, Shyrah was actually disappointed in her captors. She had been in here for at least a day now, and other than one conversation with Portis they hadn’t bothered to even check in on her again. No questions, no lashings, no electric clamps hooked up all over her body…nothing. They hadn’t even started to starve or dehydrate her—they slipped in a bit of food and water every few hours, often more than she got to eat at the Asuran’s base.

It was possible, she eventually decided, that they wanted to tempt her with a carrot instead of a stick. Maybe they wanted her to believe they really were reasonable, and that if she just helped them out, they would let her go.

“Unlikely,” she muttered to herself, flipping off her cot again. No, instead they were doing something with Kronn, and she was just here as backup. The fact it was taking this long probably just meant whatever they were doing with him was working…

She leaned against the opposite wall and swore under her breath. He had been betraying them for years, apparently, so what was stopping him from doing it again now? For some reason she actually believed he was genuinely regretful about this whole thing, but what if that was just an act? He never really had time to explain it all before they were captured. She heard his conversation with Portis and knew he didn’t leave on good terms, but that could mean a lot of things. Under pressure, how could she believe Kronn wouldn’t just tell them everything they wanted to know?

Maybe that was what they wanted her to think about. Maybe they just wanted her to believe the secret was already out—that their men were already out there capturing Asurans and dragging them back to become lab rats. Maybe they thought that would make her more cooperative in the long run, and—

Stop
, she hissed at herself. Trying to guess at their motivations was just going to drive her insane, and in the end it didn’t really matter. Her best chance against anything they pulled was to have her wits about her, and that meant just sitting here and waiting patiently.

Well, maybe not patiently, exactly. There was still another option, a single meager hope that she could get out of all of this…

I know you can hear me
, she thought to herself, hoping that the Demon inside her really could understand her.
I don’t know what you want. I guess most of us don’t even know there’s something inside, so they probably don’t try to talk to you. Maybe I’m the first. Good for me, eh?

Shyrah sighed. At least if she wasn’t talking out loud, she wouldn’t look quite as crazy to anyone who was watching. And this was a step up from trying to work through ESI torture logic.

Listen to me
, she said,
Damien told me your people don’t want to interfere with us. I don’t quite understand why, but I get that you don’t agree with the Angels. Hey, I don’t either. But right now, we’re both going to be in a lot of trouble if you don’t help me. Just…give me something. I’ve seen what Sariel can do. I know you could get me out of here if you wanted to. Well, I’m giving you permission. Do whatever it takes—make me delirious, take over my limbs, I don’t know, whatever. Just do
something
.

The seconds passed, and she felt nothing. Here, locked in a cell, she was really no different than any other human. She couldn’t touch minds with a wall, and that’s all that was here. She swore and slapped her hand into the stone.

And it crumbled.

She blinked and backed up. It wasn’t much—a bit of brick flaked off where her hand had impacted—but it was more than a simple slap should have done to a stone wall. She looked down at her hand, and it tingled oddly…not just from the impact, but from something else.

“Oh, shit,” she breathed.
Was that you?

She didn’t feel anything, and she forced herself to take a deep breath. Maybe it was just a fluke; maybe that section of the wall was already brittle or something. She pulled back her hand again, preparing to strike it—

And realized she didn’t need to. It was an odd sensation to suddenly
know
something so clearly, as if she had just recalled a long forgotten memory. But this wasn’t a memory—at least, not
her
memory…

Shyrah opened the palm of her hand and concentrated. A second later, one of the bricks in the wall started to flake. A thin latticework of cracks appeared around it, and soon a section of it crumbled away. She had done that without even touching it.

She had done it with her mind.

Good start,
she told the creature inside her, taking a deep breath to try and remain calm.
Now why don’t we skip past the basics and show me what you can really do?

***

Kronn had no idea how long he had been asleep when the door to his cell opened and the same pair of burly men hauled him to his feet. There were no windows or clocks or any other indicators of what time it was—standard fare for such a place, and he hadn’t really expected otherwise. Still, it was annoying to feel so completely out of touch. He had no idea what the Asurans were doing at this point, or if they were even still alive.

The men dragged him into a large room he hadn’t been in before. A hospital-style bed rested at the center, but he didn’t see any medical equipment, scanners, or even basic tools anywhere else. It was just an empty room.

The men dropped him down on the table and cuffed his arms and legs to its side. A single light shone down on him from the ceiling, but it wasn’t even particularly bright. If this was supposed to be a different type of interrogation room, they had grossly missed the mark on all the important nuances.

“A bit spartan, I know,” Portis said from the other side of the room. Restrained as he was, Kronn couldn’t actually see him. “But it’s functional enough.”

“Not much for pleasantries today, huh?” Kronn grunted, casually testing the restraints. He definitely wasn’t going anywhere.

The other man sighed, and it wasn’t the overplayed bad interrogator I’m-running-out-of-patience-with-you sigh. It seemed genuine, and that actually made Kronn nervous.

“I wish we had more time for that,” Portis said eventually, “but we don’t. I’m not convinced you’ll just come around, and neither is the Director.”

“So what, then? Skipping straight to the pain?”

“We both know torture isn’t reliable, Sam.”

“Yeah, well, we both also know you still do it sometimes.”

“Sometimes,” Portis admitted softly. His voice was very odd. There was nothing precise or calculated about it at all. It was just…flat. “But even if I thought it would work, it would take too long. I don’t think you can appreciate the kind of shockwaves your information has caused.”

Kronn snorted. “I can imagine well enough. I mean how else is a government going to respond to news of an alien attack? And in the end that’s what this is really about. Your boss envisioned the end of this colony, and then she imagined what her boss would say.” He smiled darkly. “I’m going to take a guess and assume she hasn’t actually shared this with the Elassian parliament or even the Prime Minister.”

“Minister Karah will know soon enough,” Portis said. “But when the Director does finally tell him, she wants something more concrete. She wants proof…and options for the future.”

“She wants a scapegoat,” Kronn replied. “Word of this leaks out, and people will be terrified, even if they don’t fully believe it. The Covenant will insist it isn’t true, but of course that will only make them look more and more guilty. It could flare out of control in a heartbeat, and you’d be looking at total anarchy on the streets.”

“We would be looking at civil war,” Portis said sharply. “I know you may not care much about that right now, but this goes far, far beyond this room, Sam. We need answers, and we need them now. We can’t let this get out of hand.”

Kronn shook his head fractionally. “I already told you how you can get answers. Capture Marivean and you’ll get everything you’ll need.”

Portis said nothing. The only sound in the room was the slight shuffling of clothing as someone else walked in. A moment later, a brush of air at his side made Kronn tilt his head. A slender, youngish man he didn’t recognize was now standing there. He glanced down only once at Kronn before pulling off his black gloves.

“What’s this about, Mark?”

“This is about desperation,” Portis told him, his voice cold and soft. “I wish there were another way, old friend, but you’ve run out of time.”

“He’s older than I thought,” the stranger commented. “His mind will be brittle. There won’t be much left when I’m done.”

Kronn felt his entire body contract. No, Portis couldn’t be possibly willing to go this far…

“Unfortunate but unavoidable,” Portis said. “For what it’s worth, Samuel, I’ll try to remember you as a patriot rather than a fool. Goodbye.”

Kronn pulled against his restraints, but his arms barely moved. He thought to stall or try and negotiate, but it was already too late. The Demon—the scrubber—standing above him reached down a hand and placed it against his forehead.

Kronn screamed.

***

 Prisons, particularly those of the military or interrogative variety, rarely made an effort to try to filter out the noise coming from the surrounding rooms. It was one of the many lessons one learned while working for a Syndicate crime boss. Garaldi had enjoyed knowing that his other captives got to listen in as he tortured their comrades. It wasn’t any different than when he had other girls raped within her earshot. He had wanted her to know what was awaiting her and get plenty of time to think about it.

Shyrah would have liked to believe ESI might have been different, being a “legitimate organization” and all that. But then Kronn’s anguished screams echoed through the entire prison, and she knew she was running out of time.

She winced at the sound. Whatever punishment he deserved for his betrayal, it wasn’t sitting in a cell being prodded by ESI jackasses. If anything, it actually annoyed her more that she wasn’t the one who was going to dish it out. But that could wait until they had talked to the others…and until they had gotten out of here.

“Time to take off the training wheels,” she murmured, concentrating on the wall again. Over the last half hour or so, she had managed to all but collapse a half dozen bricks. With a solid punch of kick, she imagined she could knock right through to the other side. Of course, once she actually got out there, she had no idea what she was going to do.

Behind the wall, she could hear the muffled chatter from a few guards, and they even laughed occasionally. Apparently they were oblivious to the man being tortured just down the hall, or maybe it was so commonplace they were just used to it.

That cheery thought aside, she needed a plan.
Any ideas?
she asked her Demon. It was always a pretty one-sided conversation, but the thing was communicating with her somehow. Except when it spoke to her, she simply knew what it was talking about. There was no fumbling with words or anything else—

Shyrah blinked and staggered. There it was again—a rush of
something
. It wasn’t knowledge, precisely, it was more like a…question?

Yes, that’s exactly what it was. It was asking her a question—specifically, it was asking her permission. It wanted to do something, and that probably meant exerting a lot more control over her than it already was.

Do what you need to do
, she told it.
It’s now or never.

And then, just as suddenly, she knew. She knew exactly how she was going to get out of here, how she was going to save Kronn, and how she was going to send these ESI assholes straight to fucking hell.

“All right, then,” she said. “Let’s do this.”

She opened her palm towards the wall, her eyes narrowing. She concentrated upon the cracked latticework she had created between the bricks, to the weakened structure of the wall and all its interlocking pieces…

And with a low, guttural rumble, the bricks shattered. One by one, they cracked and buckled as if they were being crushed by a great weight. Within seconds the entire wall collapsed into a pile of dust and debris, and behind it, three exasperated ESI guards were staring at the five meter hole, eyes gaping wide.

“Someone locked the door,” she grunted.

They started to scramble, but she wasn’t about to let them get away. With a thought she reached out and grabbed onto the closest guard with her mind, hurling him across the room with enough force to cause a satisfying
crunch
when he finally impacted against a wall. An instant later she pushed a wave of invisible force straight out in front of her, and it slammed into the table, toppling it and the two men who had been sitting there.