Stackpole, Michael A - Dark Conspiracy 03 (11 page)
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Authors: Evil Triumphant
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wher
e I was going and with my body falling parallel to the ground, there was no way I co
uld get my feet
under m
e to break my fall. Knowing that, 1 went limp and
hoped for the best on my landing.
I missed best by a wide margin.
Whatever I hit, it snapped my spine cleanly and numbed the lower half of my body instantly. Even
though I could not feel them, my legs hit the ground hard and bounced back up, folding me forward as if I were trying to bring my feet up over my head to touch the ground. As that happened, I somersaulted
backward, then landed on my face and tasted dust on my lips.
1 fought to banish the pain throbbing out of my left shoulder in sympathetic rhythm with the agony
tracing itself up my back. I knew instantly that my legs were as useless as my left arm, but even at that I was better off than Natch. 1 was still alive and stood a chance at remaining that way. Clawing at the dirt, I knew if I could drag myself into the shadow of the fragmentary brick wall that had broken my back, the
Aryan with the Mac-10 might not be able to shoot me.
"You are too stupid to live, Loring!" 1 heard someone shout from above. I heard a faint click, then a thump followed shortly by a second thump. Looking up, not 10 feet from my face, I saw a blue sphere
land in the dust in front of me. I stared at it and, in a moment of crystal clarity, I realized the gold symbol embossed on the grenade's blue plastic shell was the Build-more corporate logo.
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Sinclair MacNeal swallowed hard as he saw Bat step into the briefing room doorway. The larger man had
both hands locked into fists. He wore a pistol on his hip and a bandolier of clips across his broad chest, but Sin knew from the set of his shoulders and the snarl on his face, Bat meant to do his grim work with
his hands alone. The gun was along because even Bat knew he'd be stupid to attempt what he was setting
out to do without one.
"I can't let you go, Bat." Sin looked around the room for support, and got it from Rajani and Hal, but the Yidam, Vetha and Crowley remained aloof. "You can't do this."
The fire in Bat's eyes suggested madness, but the cold, cruel way he smiled told Sin that the pit fighter
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was 10
0% in control of himself. "I do not need your permission."
"Bat, this is stupid. You don't even know the Aryans were the ones who pulled the triggers." Sin fought to keep pleading out of his voice, but he could not. "If you do this you'll be betraying Coyote's trust in you."
"Match isdead. She trusted me."Bat's hands flexed and closed as if he had a throat in his grasp. "Heinrich and his Aryans are bragging. Now they pay."
"Bat, you don't know. Coyote is in the Barrow Neurological Center. He may come out of his coma and
tell us
who really did it!"
Bat's left fist slammed down on the briefing room's table, making coffee mugs jump and leaving a dent in
the wood. "You do not control me. You do not control this group."
"Before he left for the radio show, Coyote told Nero Loring and I that we should see to it that things keep going." Sin rubbed at his forehead with the fingers of his left hand. "I understand why you've been going after the Reapers—they took Hatch's body and you have witnesses who bear that out. But this, you're just
guessing. We don't need you dead, too.
Put
the weapons away and start thinking for a change."
"I've thought plenty, MacNeal, and I know your game." Before Sin could do anything, Bat crossed the gap between them and grabbed a hunk of shirt-front in his left hand. The fighter hauled Sin up and pinned him against the far wall. "The Aryans work for your father. Don't think you can protect him." Bat pulled his right fist back. "I will hurt him, and I think I will start by hurting you."
"No." The contradictory whisper came as gently as the way the pale, long-fingered hand encircled Bat's right wrist. As his fist started to move forward, the hand tightened and drew the fighter's arm down and
around. Before his arm could be shoved up behind his back, he twisted around, and Sin felt the grip on
his shirt slacken.
Both he and Bat stood with jaws agape. "Jytte?" they asked in unison.
Sin had always seen her as a beautiful woman who lived inside an invisible cage. He knew she functioned
as the computer wizard of the group and had seen ample and excellent examples of her skills. Despite
being obviously intelligent, she had seemed mechanical and cold—not unfeeling, but unable to feel and
share feelings. He realized in an instant he had thought of her more as an
appliance than any sort of human being.
The blondwoman nodded. "I, too, havebeen.. .thinking. 1 owe you all an apology, for much of this is my fault.
1 should have seen.. .things. 1 believe we can regain what we have lost, but 1 will need your help—all of you."
Sin sat at the table without straightening his shirt. Jytte had changed—the difference was tangible yet elusive.
She wore the same clothes she had always worn, and they hid most of her body, yet she seemed to move with them as opposed to within them. He had heard that she had helped Natch with her makeup before she left with Coyote, so he looked for any sign that she had applied her skills to herself. He could see none, but he knew
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well t
hat it could mean that her skills were sufficient to disguise themselves.
Bat dropped into the seat beside him as Jytte walked to the head of the table. "Coyote's prognosis is very bad.
A Scorpion Security report suggests that with his right arm he managed to push himself away from the
grenade. Instead of taking the blast in the head and shoulders, he caught shrapnel along the front of his body, from his feet to his face. A number of internal organs were ruptured or perforated, but his heart escaped injury."
Jytte winced, then shivered. "Coyote has bone and metal fragments lodged in his brain. He is not yet stable enough for surgery. At this point, if he ever comes out of his coma, he will be unable to walk and will likely never recover the use of his left arm. That limb is infected and they may amputate it. His right arm may well be affected if they go in to pull out fragments. The most likely situation is that if he lives at all, it will be in a permanently vegetative state."
"At least he is alive." Bat's jaw muscles bulged, and Sin could hear the squeal of his teeth grinding together.
"And Natch is dead." Jytte hesitated as if trying to
understand why a tear had started rolling down her left cheek. "You have dealt with those who took her body."
"Not all of them. Yet."
'You have broken them. That is enough for now, Bat. We will deal with Natch's killers in due time, but
there is a greater problem here that we must handle."
"A greater problem?" Bat shook his head. "Natch is dead."
"At least she no longer feels pain." Jytte's head came up. "Look at me, Bat. Look at what Pygmalion did to me." She brought long fingers up through her hair like pitchfork tines through silk. "These are not my hands. This is not my hair. These are not my eyes. He killed me by taking away everything 1 was and
giving me this body."
Her blue eyes filled with volcanic intensity. "You have seen what he did with Mickey. You know he does what he wants to whomever he wants when he wants. He has no limitations—self-imposed or
otherwise—on what he is willing to do. With Ryuhito working with him, his power is at least doubled, if
not squared, and his access to Earth is not blocked in the way access is blocked for Fiddleback."
Bat nodded his head once, but Sin saw no easing of his shoulder set. "Pygmalion first, as practice. Then the Aryans die."
"I think, Mr. Kabat, you will do better to focus on Pygmalion than to even think about the Aryans."
Damon Crowley got up from the table and carefully tucked his chair into place. He looked up at Jytte. "1
am not going to be of much direct use to you in the short term. I will, however, do two things that will
make your organizing the effort against Pygmalion simpler."
Jytte nodded stiffly. "Please explain."
Crowley smiled, then looked around the room, finally settling his gaze on Sinclair. "The first thing I will do is get Coyote to a place where he can recover. As you may be
aware, a number of proto-dimensions have properties that are not at all like this world. One of these is a place that folklore has relegated to the Greek Tartarus and, in fact, a giant creature that answers to the name Tityus does reside there. Chained to a rock, he is devoured by giant vultures during the day, then he regenerates so the torture can continue. This regeneration is not a property of his, but of the place in