Matt Archer: Blade's Edge (29 page)

“…two six-man teams. Major Tannen is primary, and Captain Parker is second in command. We’ve arranged transport for oh-five-hundred,” Colonel Black was saying. “We do have one interesting piece of intel to share—the Takers are vulnerable to fire. Last week, one village staved off an attack the old-fashioned way, with torches. The problem is catching the creatures. The men in the village said if the Takers sensed the fire coming, they would decompose into that black mist and reform elsewhere.”

That hung in the air a minute. How did you sneak up on a supernatural creature that didn’t need eyes to see?

“We’ll be leaving before dawn so we can hit the caves at daybreak—after all our incursions over the last several months, we’re thinking a daylight raid may be the best bet. The Takers only come at night,” Colonel Black said. “Those of you deploying, meet with your team leaders, then hit your racks. It’s going to be an early morning. Dismissed.”

Will and I met up with Johnson, Murphy and Patterson near our tent.

“Are you guys with us permanently now?” Will asked Murphy and Patterson.

“Yeah, Parker asked us to switch to…” Murphy paused looking uncomfortable.

“Fill the hole,” I murmured.

No one spoke while we waited for Uncle Mike. From the downcast faces, I wasn’t the only one thinking about Schmitz. I felt terrible, off-center…but I soon realized it wasn’t guilt giving me problems. Cold despite my BDUs and the warm weather, I shook like I had the flu. My skin crawled, too, and I kept shrugging and squirming trying to find some relief.

“What’s going on, dude?” Will asked.

“I’m not sure. Just…feeling bad.”

I twitched again. The knife’s hum went from background noise to grating, and I felt itchy but had no clue where to scratch. It was like I’d suddenly developed a mild form of Tourette’s or something for all the control I had over my muscles.

Uncle Mike trotted over. He took one look at me and asked, “Do you need to see a medic?”

“Don’t know,” I said, panting. Air wouldn’t go deep enough into my lungs and I itched. Man, it was torture. I wriggled around inside my BDUs, hoping the cloth rubbing my skin would help. It didn’t. “Can someone…find Parker?”

“I’ll get him,” Johnson said.

I paced as best as my wobbly legs would allow. My arms jerked and spasmed and none of my wiring seemed connected to my brain. Uncle Mike’s eyes followed me as I did a Pinocchio-walk in a wide circle around the team. I had to remind myself I was a real boy, because my limbs felt like they were being forced to move by a puppeteer’s strings.

Real boy. I was real. Real…

Johnson came running back. “Parker’s out cold. Team said he just up and collapsed right before I got there. Medics are with him now.”

Not right. Not…real? No, not…

My thoughts wouldn’t come together. I tried pulling the knife from my thigh pocket, if only to make the spirit stop keening in my head. The knife handle gave my leg a sharp buzz and I reeled on my feet. The blade-spirit felt stretched taut, like she was strung between me and something outside my head. Arms reached out all around me, holding me up, but I couldn’t stand to be touched and I slapped at their hands.

“Don’t,” I managed to get out. The tingling in the back of my neck reached a peak and I groaned through clenched teeth. My fragile hold on the blade-spirit was pulled to the breaking point. I held onto her, the strain making my back bow. Something was blocking me from the knife, like in the caves with the scorpion-woman, when the demons did something to the connection….

“Attack!” I said. My jaw creaked as I spoke, but I had to make them understand what was happening to me. “Coming fast. Immobilizing wielders.”

Uncle Mike swore and ran for the command tent. Johnson started gathering everyone together, barking orders in his deep voice, telling the soldiers to arm up with whatever they could lay hands on. Will appeared at my side. Before I could stop him, he threw me over his shoulder so my head and arms hung down his back.

“Put me…down,” I said. “Don’t…touch.”

“I know it’s bugging you, but we have to get to command,” he grunted. “Take it easy, would ya?”

My heart fluttered faster and faster. Black spots blocked out parts of the tents as Will carried me across camp. The knife-spirit wailed, furious. I couldn’t hang on tight enough. She was slipping, slipping….

A bolt of pain ripped through my chest and I jerked hard enough to throw Will off balance. We tumbled to the ground, where I lay, wheezing, and watched dark clouds ooze across the purple evening sky. Clouds that didn’t move right.

Will crawled to his feet and tried to drag me into the command tent but I dug my heels in, compelled to stay outside and see them. Because they were coming for me. They called to me and to my knife.

The Takers were inbound.

Chapter Thirty-One

T
hey didn’t come in mist.
No, the Takers swooped down fully formed with their wings stretched wide, dive-bombing soldiers as they ran for the weapons tent. That told me one thing; these Takers didn’t want prisoners. This was a hit-and-run mission. They only cared about the wielders, which meant I had to break free of their control, and fast.

A grenade exploded somewhere outside camp, and a cheer went up, followed by a horrible screech. Streams of fire shot into the sky. For now the team was fighting back, keeping the Takers outside the circle of tents. But how long would they last?

A man’s scream answered that question. No time, I had no time.

I closed my eyes and forced my body to be still. I wasn’t weak…they couldn’t have me. Not now, not ever again. With every muscle straining, I collected the tangled mess of my thoughts. The dark power here wouldn’t rule me this time. I pulled on the knife-spirit with my mind, holding her from whatever was trying to steal her from me.

The tension at the other end of my knife-spirit rippled, then snapped. The spirit flooded my consciousness, just like she had when we came out of the tunnels after Schmitz died. I sat up, drinking in her power. Taking strength from it.

We must merge,
the knife insisted
. We fight together, or not at all.

A thrill ran down my back, but I stood on shaking legs and drew the knife from my thigh pocket. I could do this; it wouldn’t be like the merge when we fought the Kalis or the scorpion. This time, I’d stand my ground. I’d stay me. “Hit me.”

Two heartbeats passed, then a burst of energy slammed through my body. I stumbled against the command tent, dimly aware of Will and Mike rushing to hold me up by the arms. I gasped for air; it felt like I’d been drowning, and had finally broken the surface for the first time in months.

There. You’re ready now.

No doubt—I could already feel my reflexes improving, and I wasn’t used to the power after being on the disabled list for so long. The dirt underfoot deafened me as my boots slid across it. I could smell the gas fuse on the flame-thrower from forty yards away, could see each individual Taker in the darkened sky.

My stomach heaved; the knife had me on overload. Through gritted teeth, I said, “I agreed to let you in, but not to control me.”

The spirit didn’t answer except to latch on tighter. “No,” I snapped, pressing my hands against my temples. “This is my head, goddamn it. Mine. I’ll work with you, but you can’t take over. If you can’t accept that, then you picked the wrong guy, understand? Because I’m not going to be your puppet!”

Not a puppet,
she said, sounding far too calm given the fight we were having.
A tool.
My
tool.

No, not anymore. I wasn’t going to let either side—Dark or Light—have that kind of control over me again. Slowly, I stood up straight, pushing against the spirit’s power, forcing her to back off. I had no clue how I did it, or why my will was stronger now, but I felt her loosen her grip. As suddenly as the power surged, it subsided. Not all the way—residual magic still crackled along my nerves—but I could contain it.

I chose correctly.
The spirit sounded smug.
Who wants to be paired with a weak human? Certainly not me. Now pull yourself together; we have a battle to fight.

Just like that, I could see—in the dark, and through the Dark—and I knew what to do.

“Major Tannen,” I barked, “get everyone to group up in one spot outside of camp.”

Uncle Mike jumped. “Chief, are you feeling okay?”

He probably thought I was possessed again. I’d given them a good scare for sure. “I’m fine. Knife’s back on board—we need to get everyone together. Takers grab people on the run. They can’t get close enough if the team is standing together with flamethrowers at the ready. Tell Patterson and Murphy to light ‘em up.”

“Where are you going?” Uncle Mike asked.

“I need to find Parker.” I grabbed Will’s arm. “Cruessan’s with me.”

Uncle Mike didn’t argue for once. “Parker’s in the medic’s tent. Opposite end. Hurry back.”

Will and I crept around the tent next to command. Colonel Black shouted at someone over the radio. “…air support. Apaches and we’ve got wounded to evac….twenty minutes, understood.”

Twenty minutes? That might be too late. Dark shapes wheeled overhead like strung-out birds of prey. From the shouting, Mike was herding everyone together. Orange flames lit up the shadows around the tents. More screeching rang out. Then shouts.

And screams.

Sticking as close to the sides of tents as we could, Will and I skirted the whole camp. At the medics’ tent, we peeked around front. A dark mist floated just in front of the tent flap.

“Crap,” Will whispered. “Now what?”

“We’ll have to sneak in.”

I led him to the back of the tent and cut a hole in the canvas so we could creep inside. Only one of our two medics remained with Parker. I pressed a finger to my lips as we shimmied through the three-foot-long slit I’d created. The medic, his name patch said Romito, nodded and scooted up front to guard the tent flap.

“Anybody got a lighter?” I whispered.

Romito pulled one out of his back pocket and tossed it to me.

I threw it to Will. “Get a bottle of rubbing alcohol and jam a bunch of cotton strips into it.”

“Good idea. One Molotov cocktail coming right up,” he said, hurrying to the supply kit.

“Let’s hope you still remember how to throw a spiral,” I muttered.

Will snorted and bottles clanked together as he rummaged around. I knelt next to Parker. He lay still except for his eyes, which moved back and forth wildly under his lids. His knife was sheathed on his thigh and his arm dangled off the cot, almost like he’d been trying to keep his hand as far from the handle as he could. I shook his shoulder; his BDUs were soaked through with sweat, but he didn’t stir at the contact.

Almost taken.

“So what do we do?”

Kill the Takers.

A blaze of anger blinded me for a second, then Romito fired three shots. A dark, clawed hand reached through the tent’s flap and grabbed him by the collar. Romito leaned back, shouting for help. Two more black hands snaked through the flap and took hold. Will caught Romito’s arm, but he slid forward, too. I stood, clutching my knife.

Stop! He’s lost. Protect the wielder.

“
I can help—”

Lost! Protect the wielder!

Protect the wielder.

You can’t save everyone.

I tamped down my nausea. “Will—let him go.”

“But we can—”

“Let go,” I snapped.

“No!” Romito said, his feet sliding through the flap. They almost had him. “Help me!”

Will, looking sick, said, “Sorry, man. I’m sorry.”

He let Romito go. The medic was yanked from the tent with enough force that it knocked his cap off. I closed my eyes for a second. I didn’t think I’d ever get used to deciding who survived and who didn’t, but Mike was right; we all knew what we’d signed up for. There’d always be a choice, and I’d have to make them.

Romito screamed just outside the tent and Will stared at the flap with revulsion. “Why? Why did you tell me to do that? We could’ve helped him!”

“No, we couldn’t.” I lifted my chin. “Romito was lost the second the Takers laid hands on him, and Parker’s our priority. Now, where’s my firebomb?”

Will ran back to the supply cabinet for the alcohol jar, his face a splotchy white. None too soon, either. Claws parted the flap and a Taker’s eyeless face poked through. It let out a screeching call much like the one I’d heard in the scorpion’s cave.

I pulled Parker off his cot as Will lit the fuse. He flung the jar at the doorway, then dove behind the cot with us. Flames shot over our heads, searing the air. The Taker squealed and a really nasty, stinging smoke filled the tent. I didn’t bother with checking to see if we got it. Instead, I grabbed one of Parker’s arms. Will took the other and we pulled him through the hole in the wall at the back of the tent. Flames spread across the ceiling, and we barely got outside before the canvas was engulfed.

Close call. I bent over my knees, coughing up crud because of the smoke. Another grenade exploded in the sky south of camp. Two dark masses fell to earth in a fireball. Looked like the team was still holding its own.

“Now what?” Will asked. He had black streaks on his hands and face.

“We hide Parker somewhere safe and keep the Takers away until more help gets here.”

Will and I wrestled Parker upright and flung his arms over our shoulders. Grasping hands behind his back, we managed to carry him. Parker’s boots dragged against the ground, leaving a big trail I couldn’t worry about. We made it a dozen feet before black mist seeped around the corner of the tent and coalesced into a Taker right in front of us. Its flesh-covered eye sockets made me stop in my tracks.

It cocked its head and raised its wings. I shoved Will and Parker away from the burning tent, careful to keep them behind me, and drew my knife. The Taker flexed its claws.

“Mine,” it said. The thing’s voice rattled in its throat and it barked a harsh laugh as took a slow step toward me, hands out like I was a stray dog it wanted to catch by the collar.

Screw that.

I lunged forward, swiping at its neck with the knife. It puffed into mist at the last second and reappeared on my other side. The Taker clawed at my chest, but I ducked in time, rolling within inches of the flames engulfing the tent. It disappeared again, then reformed over my head, beating a reeking wind down on me with its wings. The Taker swooped, reaching for me with its clawed feet. The knife’s power surged up my arm and I caught it in the ankle with the blade. The creature tried to turn into mist; only its chest became transparent. It struggled, flapping its wings, to free its foot from the blade. My arms strained against the load, but it couldn’t lift me from the ground.

Caught,
the spirit said, sounding very proud of herself.

The knife’s magic held the Taker fast. With a slow smile I wasn’t sure came from me, I pulled the creature lower and lower, twisting it toward the burning tent. Swinging hard, I flung it into the flames. It writhed there for a moment, screeching, then blazed into a ball of fire, burning up as fast as old, dry paper. Ashes rained down all around me as I turned to check on my crew.