Sunset: Pact Arcanum: Book One (2 page)

The man raised his hands calmly. “Peace, Medusa. I am not here to hurt you.” His voice echoed through the hall, perfectly relayed by the audio system even though he didn’t have a microphone.

“Who the hell are you?” asked Medusa, her composure slipping momentarily.

He dropped his hands, meeting her eyes with casual arrogance. “My name is Nicholas Magister Luscian, but feel free to call me Nick if it will help you relax.” He nodded amiably at the armed men that surrounded him. “I assure you I am no threat to you at this time. I am constrained by law from interfering in your operation.”

“How did you get in here?” she barked.

“Phased dimensional manipulation, otherwise known as class three teleportation.” Nick grinned at her. “And I came because I was invited.”

“Teleportation.” Medusa stepped closer, her show of temper ruthlessly suppressed and her shotgun never wavering from its target. “An interesting claim. I don’t know who you think you are or how you got past my men, but I know you weren’t invited.”

Nick crossed his arms over his chest, completely at ease as he ignored the weapons pointed at him. If this guy weren’t screwing up months of planning, Jeremy would have admired his self-possession. He had to admit that Nick cut an impressive figure, standing tall and unconcerned in a forest of machine guns, even if he was dressed to go bar hopping.

“Actually, I was. You issued an invitation for a single government representative to enter and inspect the bomb. You didn’t specify which government.” Jeremy stared at him through the thin layer of gauze.
What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Nick glanced at him, as if he had heard Jeremy’s unspoken question, and then proceeded to answer it. “There are four national governments in North America: the United States, Canada, Mexico, and the Triumvirate Council. I am here on the Council’s behalf to evaluate the nuclear threat. You let the Americans have a look—now it’s our turn.”

Medusa regarded him coolly, but Jeremy could see her curiosity was piqued.
Shit.
She never let go of a problem when it sparked her interest. It was what made her such a gifted intelligence analyst, but it was only going to serve as a distraction here. “What exactly is the Triumvirate Council?” she asked.

“The Triumvirate rules over the Free People of North America and keeps the peace.” Nick maintained eye contact with Medusa, ignoring Jeremy and the rest of his men. “Generally speaking, our laws require us to leave your people alone to clean up your own messes, but this time, since you’ve placed a significant number of our own people at risk, the Council has chosen to intervene up to the stated limits of your invitation.”

Medusa smiled, amused despite herself. “And who do you mean by my people?”

Nick looked around at the armed men surrounding him. “The humans.”

Medusa laughed aloud. Turning to Jeremy, she commanded, “Get rid of him.”

Jeremy waved forward one of his largest men. The other terrorist let his weapon hang from its strap and stepped forward to grab Nick’s shoulder. Reaching up, Nick caught the man around the throat with one hand and casually lifted him off the floor. The rest of the men stepped back in surprise as their colleague choked, held firm in the intruder’s grasp.

Jeremy snapped out of his shock. “Keep your weapons on the target,” he ordered his men.

Nick turned to look at Medusa. “It’s against my honor to kill human beings, but I will cripple him without a second thought. Now why don’t you just let me do my job, and I will leave you to do yours?”

Medusa stared at her man, who was desperately trying to pry Nick’s fingers away from his windpipe. “Put him down.”

Nick dropped the man to the floor with a thud.

“The terms of your invitation were very specific, Medusa. Are you going to let me take a look at your bomb, or are you not so honorable after all?”

Medusa’s face reddened. “Fine. If that’s what it will take.”

Jeremy could see she was annoyed at the insult, but she was too smart to be baited. Whoever this guy was, they could control him until he could be disposed of.

Nick walked toward the metal cylinder, stopping a few feet away. Jeremy and three of his men followed, their weapons tracking his every movement.

“Rapier,” said Nick, “give me a tactical analysis of the device in front of me.”

A new voice echoed throughout the hall. “The device is a B83 thermonuclear weapon, estimated yield 1.2 megatons. It is primed to detonate by microwave remote control. Ground burst detonation will immediately destroy all artificial structures in a two-mile radius, with extensive damage to civilian buildings for several miles beyond that, followed by progressive destruction secondary to the ensuing thermal firestorm. The subsequent radioactive fallout will render the greater metropolitan area inimical to virtually all forms of life for at least three hundred years.”

“Projected casualties?”

“Estimated human casualties exceed three million deaths. Metahuman casualties are estimated at twenty thousand deaths.”

“Inform Armistice Security that the threat is credible and recommend immediate evacuation of all our people in the greater Los Angeles area.”

“Confirmed.”

Walking back to the front of the stage, he confronted Medusa. “Rapier seems to think you’re telling the truth.”

“Your partner must have a good view of the stage to be able to identify the weapon so precisely,” Medusa said, squinting into the shadows offstage. “Where is he hiding?”

“He’s not hiding. He’s right here. Introduce yourself, Rapier.”

“Greetings, Medusa,” said the voice. “I am Rapier, a third-generation artificial intelligence in contractual service to Nicholas Magister Luscian on behalf of Armistice Security. My function is to provide personal, administrative, and logistical support in his capacity as Triumvirate Council Ambassador to the Court of Shadows. My program is currently resident in a network of implanted cybernetic biocircuitry throughout the Ambassador’s body. My voice is generated by manipulation of the surrounding air to generate simulated sound, and I am transmitting the Ambassador’s voice and ambient sound directly to the local audio and television broadcast systems.”

As Rapier was speaking, Jeremy heard a faint whisper of sound, and then something changed. The colors of the room seemed too bright suddenly, and he felt the beginning of a migraine.
Great. I haven’t had one of those in years. Why now?
The noise level rose as the room filled with voices—too many to make out the words. He tried to focus on Medusa.
I don’t have time for this. I have a job to do.

“Teleportation would be hard enough to swallow, without believing in AI.” Medusa snorted and glanced at her watch. “This has been a pleasant distraction, but you have now wasted eleven minutes of my time, and I am quite busy at the moment. I suggest you leave, or I will have you shot.”

“Nicholas,” said Rapier, “I am receiving a tactical update from Armistice Security being broadcast system-wide over the planetary communications grid. A level five emergency has been declared in the city of Los Angeles, California, subspecification: nuclear attack. Teleport evacuation of all Armistice personnel from the blast area will commence in ten seconds. Estimated time to complete evacuation is ninety seconds.”

Nick’s expression hardened. “Take me off the list, Rapier. I’ll be staying a little while longer.” He looked back at Medusa. “Just out of curiosity, what’s your real angle?”

She straightened a little. “My angle?”

“I know humans don’t need a reason to kill each other, though you’ve started to get more spectacular about it in recent decades.” Nick cocked his head. “But you knew the US government wouldn’t accede to your demands. Aren’t you even going to pretend to justify your actions?”

The terrorist stared at him in disbelief. “Are you mocking me?”

“A little,” Nick said without blinking. “I mean, you’ve gone to a lot of trouble to commit suicide and take millions of people with you. What’s your point?”

“I don’t answer to you, Boy.”

“Then who do you answer to?” Nick looked around at the armed men standing around him. “What about the rest of you? Are all of you so willing to spend your lives for nothing? Surely, you realize she intends to go through with it? She’s only held off this long to satisfy her own curiosity.”

Medusa laughed and gestured to her soldiers. “Don’t waste your breath, Nick. My men are deeply committed individuals. They know that we’re serving a higher purpose.”

As she spoke, just for a moment, Jeremy looked directly into her eyes. His awareness suddenly exploded—images and scenes he didn’t recognize but knew immediately to be true crowded together in his brain. He saw everything: from the present moment to the instant she first conceived the operation that had brought them here. Year upon year of memory unfolded before him in a heartbeat, and Jeremy finally understood just how completely he had been used.

“You unbelievable bitch!”

Nick and Medusa turned to face the interruption in surprise. Tossing his machine gun aside, Jeremy peeled off his mask and dropped it to the floor, revealing his pale skin and black hair. He stepped forward to stand between Nick and Medusa. “It’s all a lie, isn’t it?” he screamed at her. “We believed in you, and it’s all bullshit!”

The other armed men watched in confusion. Medusa’s backhand caught him by surprise, and he staggered.

“Get a hold of yourself, Harkness, and get back to your position!” she yelled.

Jeremy clenched his fists at his sides, his gray eyes blazing above the angry red mark on his cheek. “I can see what you are. You’ve been lying to us from the beginning! You said you were just going to threaten them, that the bomb was a last resort, but you planned to blow the city away right from the beginning, no matter what happened. This is all about revenge, that’s all!”

Medusa widened her eyes, and her face flushed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Harkness. Now shut your mouth and get back to your post!”

“Why didn’t you tell us about your family, then?” Jeremy asked. “The police killed them both, and now you’re just trying to make the city pay. There’s no noble cause here; there never was!”

Medusa turned white with rage and pointed her shotgun at Jeremy. “One more word and I will shoot you dead.”

“So kill me. But I won’t die for you.” Jeremy set his jaw defiantly. “My eyes are open, and I am not afraid.”

Medusa met his angry stare. “Fine. If that’s what you want.” She pulled the trigger just as Nick moved between them in a blur. The shotgun blast threw Nick backward into Jeremy’s chest, knocking both men to the floor.

Nick stood, his shirt now bright red and dripping. Jeremy watched in disbelief, unable to catch his breath as he lay on the floor.

“Stay down,” Nick said with a grim expression. He raised his clenched fist, and a bright orange light surrounded his hand. Then he hurled the ball of light at the bomb, which erupted in sparks.

Medusa screamed in rage before flipping open the remote on her arm and pressing the switch inside. Nothing happened. Howling, she shot Nick in the back.

Bright red stains bloomed across the back of his white shirt. Then he turned and snatched the gun out of his attacker’s hands, snapping it in half and tossing the pieces at Medusa’s feet. As she fumbled in her jacket for a handgun, Nick bent his knees and jumped backward, launching himself upward and into a graceful somersault in the air. As Jeremy watched, Nick came to rest about fifteen feet from her, suspended in the air about eight feet above the stage. Recovering from their shock, the rest of Medusa’s soldiers opened fire, but Nick ignored the bullets even as they struck him. His hands clasped in front of his body, Nick turned in a tight pirouette, spinning faster and faster as a tracery of brilliant lines blossomed around him, weaving itself into a cocoon of multicolored light. All at once, he stopped dead, facing the audience. He snapped his arms straight out from his sides, and the bubble of light expanded, washing over the terrorists still shooting at him. As the light touched them, they collapsed. The light continued to spread in a spherical wave until it eventually breached the confines of the room, armed men dropping like flies in its wake.

Jeremy lay where he was, huddled on the stage, untouched by whatever force had felled the others. Most of the audience, he saw, had snatched the opportunity to escape, trampling their erstwhile captors as they fled.

Nick lowered his arms to his sides and dropped to the floor. Walking to the front of the stage, he peered down at Medusa’s prone form and shook his head. Turning back to Jeremy, he held out his hand. “You can get up now.”

Jeremy scrambled to his feet, ignoring the proffered hand, and looked uncertainly around the stage at his fallen comrades. “Are they dead?”

“No. Just unconscious. Give them a few hours and they’ll all wake up with splitting headaches.” Nick pulled his shirt over his head and held it at arm’s length to inspect it, blood-soaked and full of holes. He sighed. “I really liked that shirt.” Balling it up, he then tossed it on top of the still-smoking bomb.

“How did you do that?” Jeremy stared at Nick in shock. “You’re covered in blood, but there’s not a mark on you.”

Nick shrugged. “I heal fast.” He scratched nonchalantly at his stomach. “But I’m not going to be able to go through a metal detector for a few days until I metabolize the bullets. I mean, damn, what are you people using? Steel-jacketed ammo?”

Jeremy nodded silently, his eyes seeking any sign of the bullet holes that should have riddled Nick’s chest.

“Ah, well then, make it a week.” Nick knit his fingers together, making a triangle out of his thumbs and index fingers. A soft green glow spread from his hands to envelop his body, then faded, leaving him standing fully clothed again, cleansed of bloodstains. He was now wearing white slacks tucked into white leather boots and a collarless, white, long-sleeved shirt with a Maltese cross embroidered over the right breast in silver thread, overlaid with three concentric circles in gold. “So, Harkness, is that your first name or your last?”

Jeremy continued to stare at him. “Last. My first name’s Jeremy.” He swallowed. “What are you?”