Matt Archer: Blade's Edge (2 page)

Johnson squirmed underneath me, working at the clips tying us together. Once they were undone, he shoved me unceremoniously onto the ground. He coughed hard and sat up, pointing at dark blurs filling the sky.

“Here come the others.”

Soldiers landed all around us as I struggled free of my pack, still wheezing.

Mike cut his chute and ran to me. His face was completely white. Even his lips had faded. “What happened?”

I pushed myself up to a sitting position, wincing at the two dozen new achy spots I’d acquired. “Chute didn’t open, sir. Backup inoperable.” Seized by an attack of the shakes, I said, “Uncle Mike, I checked the chute three times at the base. I don’t know what happened!”

During ops, I was supposed to call him Major Tannen, but right now I needed my uncle to keep me from losing it entirely. He sat next to me, ignoring the stares from the rest of the team.

“I know you checked, Matt, I know you did. I did, too, for that matter.” His voice was calm, steady, warm. “We’ll figure it out. For now, we need to get under cover, secure the team. Think you can walk?”

Feeling like a wimp, I nodded and slowly stood. “Yes, sir.”

The team discarded chutes, pulled white GORE-TEX coveralls over their jumpsuits, and strapped on snowshoes. Each of us hauled a seventy-pound pack of equipment on our backs. My hips and knees ached under the weight, and I could feel a big bruise on my shoulder where the chute harnesses had dug in. Not the best way to start a hunt. But then again, neither was turning into a pancake after a four-thousand-foot drop onto the mountainside. Guess I’d call that Matt-1, Ground-0.

Our team hoofed it into the tree belt. Major Ramirez, our other wielder, headed up my line. I was excited to work with him again—we made a good team. Our Australian hunts with the Dingoes over the summer had been pretty successful. Well, except that time Aunt Julie had gotten kidnapped. Everything turned out okay, though, and my aunt proved, without a doubt, that she’s a complete badass.

I huffed and puffed until I caught up with Ramirez. He gave me a once-over and shook his head. “Your face is paler than all this snow. You sure you’re all right?”

“Sir, yes, sir,” I said. “I’ll be fine once I have some dinner.”

“Well, if you’re hungry, I guess you aren’t about to pass out on us,” Ramirez said, one eyebrow raised.

“No, sir.” I flushed at his words, though. Accidents made me look careless, even if they weren’t my fault. I needed to be more careful so the team wouldn’t write me off as a lost cause. “I’m good to go.”

“Good,” Major Ramirez said. “So what do you think of the scenery? School field trips got nothing on this, right?”

Now that I could scan my surroundings without gasping with panic, I had to admit it was spectacular. Being from Montana, I knew mountains. This was something else entirely. Sharp peaks, rising majestically, almost touched the sky. The air was thinner than at home, too, and I felt dizzy as I plowed through the snow with the major. Good thing we didn’t have to go up K2 or Everest. The lesser ranges were bad enough. We’d landed barely halfway up the foothills to the closest peak, Nanda Devi, which was more than 20,000 feet tall. Any monsters living up there could just stay.

The snow glistened, almost blinding me, even in sunglasses. I got why this mountain range was named the Himalayas—it meant “abode of snow.” Nothing more true had ever been said. Snow drifted, piled, stung the air. Summer never came here and the people that lived in these parts had to be made of steel.

“So where are we again?” I said, wheezing out each word.

Johnson came up behind us and clapped a large, brown hand on my good shoulder. “District of Uttarakhand. Northern edge of India. Beautiful country, huh?”

“Something else,” I said. Too bad some riled up demon-ladies had to spoil it for the villagers. I’d fix that, if I could.

We broke into a forest of enormous evergreens. I felt more at home in the trees and I wished we were staying here—I had forest combat down cold. My best friend, Will, and I had bagged thirteen monsters in the woods back home. But tonight’s fight would be out in the open, facing off against minions of Kali, the Hindu Goddess of Death. I had a feeling this rumble could get bloody.

When the first invasions started a few years ago, strange mutated animals—who walked upright and spoke English well enough to talk smack when we fought them—had appeared in five specific locations. We eventually hunted all of them down and there’d been some hope the fight was over, but I knew better. I’d seen a vision that told me this war would continue for a while so I wasn’t surprised when other supernatural creatures, many of them linked to local legends and mythologies, started emerging all over the world.

What bothered me most was that we weren’t any closer to figuring out who was pulling the strings or how to stop the invasion. All we had to go on was a theory that the original monsters showed up in certain places to attack somebody in particular, probably a shaman of some kind who had the power to give them trouble. Jorge, the knives’ creator, had been one of the people in their sights, but so far, we had no idea who else the monsters were hunting.

“Major?” I asked. “Have the other wielders found anything new about the shamans we’re looking for?”

Ramirez shook his head. “We’re in clean-up mode for now. Until we get some semblance of control over the situation, General Richardson has limited that investigation to the Pentagon.”

I didn’t understand why the general wasn’t trying harder, but whatever. “My sister’s been researching it. She’s come up with a few interesting theories. Maybe she can share notes with them.”

Johnson chuckled. “That sister of yours, she’s something else. If anyone could outsmart the NSA and military intelligence, it’s Mamie.”

I slanted my eyes his direction. “You still scared of her?”

“Hell, yes,” Johnson said. “The colonel is, too.”

I laughed. They had good reason to be wary; she’d stalked Colonel Black relentlessly for updates when I’d been injured in Peru last year. She also lectured Uncle Mike on a regular basis…and he listened. Kind of funny since she once had to call me to kill a spider that had her pinned in a corner.

We plodded along through the trees until Colonel Black led us into a clearing about a quarter-mile in and I dropped my pack on the ground, wincing when the straps dragged across my shoulders. I raised my arms over my head and stretched for a long while. If I was going to be of any use tonight, I needed to loosen up and let go of my panic. My heart rate had finally slowed, so maybe I was coming back down. I closed my eyes and just breathed for a moment. The sharp scent of the evergreens, the vague pinch in my lungs from the cold, the rustle of branches as a small animal darted around…all of it worked some kind of magic on my nerves and I knew the worst was over. I could keep it together tonight.

“Archer?” Johnson shouted. “You comfy over there? Need a hot drink or something?”

I opened my eyes to find everyone else engaged in setting up camp. Not wanting to add “lazy” to the list of adjectives the team kept about me, I hurried to help.

“So,” Schmitz said, untangling about a mile of bungee cords and rope for the tents, “anyone think we’ll see a snow leopard?”

“With monsters running around? Critters are smart enough to hide when those she-devils come down the mountain,” Master Sergeant Murphy called. Dirty blonde, stocky, and the grumpiest man I’d ever met, he and I hadn’t worked well together at first, but he’d lightened up over the last few months. Saving a baby from a monstrous lizard in Peru did something for my street cred where he was concerned.

Murphy caught me staring at him. “So, Archer, I hear you have a girlfriend. You get to second base yet?”

Face burning, I busied myself with setting out tent stakes for Schmitz. “Geez, man. Maybe I should ask you the same question.”

Hoots and hollers came from all around—even Mike laughed a little, although he tried to hide it. I couldn’t catch a break. I loved being part of the team, but sometimes they forgot I was fifteen. Besides, my status as “untested” wasn’t for lack of trying. I was just too new to the boyfriend/girlfriend thing to know when I could cross some lines without getting slapped. Besides, even after going out with Ella for eight months, I was still so shocked she’d become my girlfriend, I didn’t want to mess things up. When you’ve had a thing for a girl forever and she finally noticed you were alive and breathing…well, you stayed on your best behavior no matter what.

We spread a large, waterproof tarp on the ground, then set up a mobile communications center, complete with a high powered satellite phone, radio system and internet connection. Colonel Black booted up his tiny computer.

“Weather’s looking rougher for tonight than we anticipated,” he said. “Low visibility due to high winds and blowing snow.”

“What time do our lovely minions usually visit the villages?” Ramirez asked.

“Midnight. Cliché, right?” Uncle Mike said. “Why not eight-thirty? Give us some variety.”

Colonel Black grunted. “We’ll send out a team of eight: two wielders, four support staff and two ordinance specialists. Lieutenant Johnson and Major Tannen roll with Mr. Archer. Master Sergeants Schmitz and Murphy will back up Major Ramirez. Lieutenant Patterson and Sergeant Curtis are on ordinance.” He pointed at Patterson. “Be careful with the explosives. I don’t want to be known as the CO who started an avalanche in India.”

Patterson heaved a theatrical sigh. “I’ll try to restrain myself, sir.”

“See that you do.” The colonel checked his watch. “Nightfall in two hours. I suggest everyone get a meal and rest up until then. Dismissed.”

At the word “meal” my stomach growled loudly enough that Johnson gave me a weird look, so I went to retrieve my rations before I could scare anyone else. Murphy had once told the guys—within earshot of me—that he worried I’d go cannibal if I wasn’t fed on a regular schedule. Murph didn’t need to worry; eating someone as cantankerous as him would probably give me heartburn.

I pulled an MRE pouch out of my backpack and groaned: tonight’s featured entrée was Cajun rice and beans. Yeah, because nothing said “tramping around the wilds of the Himalayas” like eating Cajun food. Good thing I wasn’t picky. I inhaled my food—Army MREs are better if you eat them fast—then stretched out, leaning against a fallen log. I was too jacked up to sleep, though, so I watched the tree branches sway in the stiff wind coming down the mountainside. The air held a tang—a scent of snow, wood and gun oil—which made more sense when I heard a rifle being reassembled. Schmitz was arming up, maybe in case we saw a rabid fox or something. It wasn’t for the Kalis; monsters didn’t care much about bullets.

Mike wandered over to sit with me. “You doing okay now?”

I took a deep breath, let it out slow. “Yeah. I swear I checked that chute.”

Mike’s lips tightened. “Johnson and I examined every part of your pack. There wasn’t anything wrong with it. It should have deployed from the static line, and there’s no reason the backup should have failed.”

Somehow, that made me feel worse. “Doesn’t make sense, does it?”

“No, but weirder things have happened, and we got you to the ground safely.”

I didn’t say what I was thinking—accidents weren’t always a coincidence.

Night fell and forest creatures darted about: a few deer, some owls, the lonely howl of a wolf. Everyone got quiet as the evening wore on; maybe I wasn’t the only one on edge.

Right at nine, Colonel Black gave the order. Time to roll.

Laden with equipment, the strike team hiked out of the trees. Our snowshoes, with special spiked toes to help us cling to the ice, were clunky but necessary. Johnson had tried to determine snow depth at the edge of the woods near camp, but gave up after a twelve-foot tent pole failed to hit ground. Ice pellets scratched our faces, blowing in a strong, cold wind. It was slow going, creeping up a slight incline that was both slick and rocky. I took a header at one point and ate snow. The team applauded my spill, then continued climbing.

Ninety minutes later we came to a spot two miles up the mountain from the nearest village. The people living there said the Kali demons always came from the north, riding the wind. Two men from the village met us at the checkpoint to brief us on what they’d seen. They showed us pictures of the dead after an attack. One woman had lost a baby, they said. The monsters had taken him from his cradle, then murdered his father on the way out, leaving the woman widowed and childless.

One of the men, speaking in halting English, said, “We go now. Do not wish to be here near the hour. We hope you men live.”

Uncle Mike shook his hand. “I like our chances.”

The men nodded and trekked down the mountainside, leaving us to our own devices. As we ascended, I couldn’t help thinking maybe they were smarter than us.

A few hundred yards uphill, Major Ramirez took his team and camped out behind a large rock ledge with a mammoth snowdrift piled on top of it. Uncle Mike led our team under an icy overhang covered with icicles. Johnson, the major and I fit under it well, and there were gaps in the ice, allowing us to watch the field. The moon was full, reflecting off the snow so brightly it created near daylight visibility. Good night for a rumble.

As part of our prep, we quickly poked dozens of twenty-four-karat gold coins into the snow between our lookout points, then covered the indentations and our footprints with more snow. Kalis apparently loved gold, and the Hindu priests we’d consulted thought the coins might mesmerize them long enough for us to disarm and exterminate. I wasn’t so sure. Every time we’d set an elaborate trap for our prey, the hunt had ended in pain. Usually, simple worked best—flush and rush—but no one asked me.

Lieutenant Patterson was helping Curtis take stock of their grenades, flamethrowers and detonators. They’d already laid explosives downrange; tripwires ran under the snow back to our staging posts. If we were overrun, they’d blast the mountainside in a last ditch attempt to bury the minions in an avalanche before they reached the village.

When Patterson caught me watching, he mouthed, “Ka-boom!” emphasizing it by throwing his hands wide. With a square head, black hair and thick neck, he looked a little like Frankenstein, just with an C-4 fetish. It was probably wrong of me to think it, but I kind of hoped he got his chance to blow the charges. I loved a good fireworks show.

The minutes stretched out and I sank down under the icy ledge to wait, kicking impatiently at the snow. The waiting was always the worst part. I was on edge, ready to go, with no way to expend the energy. The knife hummed at me, whispering,
Be still
. I stopped kicking and took some deep breaths. Be still.