Suture (The Bleeding Worlds) (16 page)

"Maybe you could've taken a look if you weren't driving like such a maniac," Jackson grumbled.

Brandt threw out a handful of colourful remarks in response.

"So where am I going?"

"Once we hit the town limits, keep going south for—"

"Don't tell me none of that south, north, crap. Do I go straight, turn left, right, or around?"

Caelum sighed heavily. "Go straight, and then turn left on the fourth street. That should take us to the area where Marie said it was closed."

When they hit the city limits, Brandt stomped on the brake to bring them down to city speeds. Jackson nearly threw up.

After a few minutes, including a single left turn, Brandt pulled the car to the curb and killed the engine.

"Check it out," he nodded ahead.

The road was blocked with a barrier wrapped in orange and white stripes that declared "Police. Closed." As if the message wasn't clear, several police cars and officers helped to emphasize the point.

Caelum leaned his head out the window.

"The signs say we can park for free for two hours. I think we're good to leave it here."

The three disembarked and moved around to the trunk. Jackson and Caelum tried to look nonchalant as they blocked any onlookers from seeing inside. Brandt popped the trunk, rooted around, and then slammed it shut.

"I got the flare gun. Figure we'll leave the guns. Don't need to risk that kind of trouble."

They walked the opposite way from the barrier for a building length or two before cutting down an alley.

"So what do you think, Jackson?" Caelum asked.

Jackson rested his hand against the stone wall. He didn't need to, but being in contact with something that resided in the physical space made it a bit easier. Besides, it made the whole thing look cooler.

His ability, and the impressions it provided, could be difficult to explain. He didn't receive flashes of images, or have secrets whispered in his ear. Instead, his body reacted to the emotional sensations of the place. If he felt like laughing, then something funny or joyful was, or had, occurred. It meant he was limited to his own experience. If his body reacted in a way he couldn't make sense of, then his ability wasn't so useful. And as Hodur proved, it could be tricked. He wasn't even sure how Hodur did it, but there was no way he could've accidentally missed the kinds of emotions leading someone to murder. At least, he told himself that when sleep proved difficult.

"There's something going on behind those barriers," Jackson said.

"No shit, Nostradamus, how about something useful."

"Shut up, I'm just talking it out." He needed to talk it out. It wasn't so much a series of emotions, instead, his head felt muddled, like a voice other than his own whispered in his ear. "I… I think someone managed to control the people in this area. I feel like I don't want to be here. Like anything I see I'll just ignore, or forget. Even though I don't want to do any of those things, it's hard to resist. Someone used some major power on this part of town. It was hours ago, but it's still really strong."

"Ok, so we're dealing with at least one other Anunnaki—a powerful one. Do you get anything that might tell us Gwynn or Jason were here?" Caelum asked.

Jackson pushed further. Somewhere in the fog there was a trace of something else.

"We need to get closer. I think I'm picking up some remnants of a…pursuit, maybe. It's too faint from here."

Brandt leaned out the alley. Either due to the closure or whatever Jackson picked up, the area remained mostly deserted.

"I think we're good," Brandt said. He tore into the Veil and pushed the energy into his legs. He leapt at one wall, pushed off and higher against the opposite, and gave a final upward push that put him on the building rooftop. Within seconds, Caelum and Jackson joined him.

"Follow me," Jackson said. He kept low as he ran, always hesitating to check if anyone would see him as he jumped between rooftops. The sensation of adrenaline pumping through his system, the flight instinct taking hold, and the thrill of the pursuers flowed into him. He corrected course, following the path from its faintest sensations to the more recent. From rooftop to rooftop they traveled. Jason and Gwynn had given one hell of a hard time to whoever was after them.

Jackson came to a stop.

"Wait. This place feels different. The chase ended here."

He went for the door that led from the roof down into the building. A wave of emotions washed over him, making it hard to sort. They had come this way, he was certain.

Something new resonated with him. Something fresh and present. Someone else in this building was investigating as well. He felt curiosity and a fair dose of frustration.

A psychic wall slammed down on him. It didn't hurt, though he sensed the person would've been pleased if it had. Instead, the connection went silent and empty. But Jackson had honed in, and he didn't need any new signals to know where Jason and Gwynn had made a stand.

"There's someone else here," Jackson said. "Whoever he is, he's strong, and I wouldn't say he's friendly."

"Finally," Brandt said, "something to do."

They entered the apartment ready to be attacked.

Instead, the man he'd sensed sat leisurely in an armchair.

"Hello, gentlemen," he said. "Why don't you have a seat?"

Brandt leaned toward Caelum's ear and whispered, "Someone's seen too many Star Wars movies. Who's he think he is, Darth Asshat?"

The man in front of them was clad in black, with his face hidden by a mask. While Brandt would immediately relate it to some movie, Jackson recognized it as a traditional samurai's mask—intended to strike fear and hesitation into the hearts of men on the battlefield. Not that this man needed it—everything about his posture spoke of a power to be feared. So he wore a mask why? Jackson tried to connect to the stranger's emotions.

"Don't bother," the man said. "I've used the Veil to shield myself from your abilities. Still…you must be a very impressive empath to brush about against my defences and not lose your mind." He turned to look at Caelum. "And you are a healer. A very useful talent, you should feel blessed. And you…" He regarded Brandt with a cock of his head. "You are the muscle—not the most elegant, but useful in almost as many situations as either a healer or an empath. So, my new friends, what brings you here."

"How about you tell us who you are, first," Brandt said.

The stranger stood. In that single, fluid motion, everything in the room changed. Jackson felt the tension level of his comrades spike and knew beyond doubt this man could kill them all without effort. They were an amusement to him and he intended to toy with them. Jackson only hoped he would get bored and walk away. Of course, the likelihood of that was greatly diminished by Brandt's smart-ass mouth.

"Why don't you sit your ass back down and answer my question?" Brandt said.

God, we're so dead.

The man laughed. It held no joy, nor anything sinister, just the condescension of an adult humouring a petulant child.

"Well, since we are new friends, I'll let you call me Cain. To answer your next question, I'm here because I heard a familiar melody and I wanted to find the source."

"Does any of that make sense to you guys?" Brandt shrugged.

"Yes, it means his name is Cain, or at least that's what he'll let us call him, and no, I didn't quite understand the last bit," Caelum said, quickly adding, "I mean, I get what it means, but not what it
means
."

"He's searching for a person," Jackson said.
 

"Very good, empath," Cain said with a golf-worthy applause. "Take a moment and explain it to your friends. I really do have some time."

Jackson could swear he heard another message beneath Cain's words;
I'm still deciding whether I'll let any of you walk away.

Jackson cleared his throat. "Everything has a song, if you know how to listen to it. As an empath, we describe it more as the thoughts and emotions that make a person who they are. He's saying he heard someone's soul."

"So does that mean he took Jason and Gwynn?" Brandt sounded hopeful, that if the answer was yes, he'd finally get to unleash on something

"Gwynn?" Cain asked. He stepped back. "Well, gentlemen, I would love to stay and have a play date, but as it turns out, I have more pressing matters elsewhere."

The black cloak he wore rose up, swallowed him, and evaporated.

"Did he just fold?" Brandt asked. "Didn't Njord say that was impossible?"

"Maybe not for him," Jackson said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Brandt asked

"It means," Caelum's complexion was ashen, "we just met the Bogeyman."

When they'd crossed from their own world into the crossroads city, the sensation barely registered. Leaving slammed into Gwynn's gut like a fist. He doubled over, choked back a lump of bile, and his skin burned.

"Mistress, is he all right?" The whipped girl asked.

"It's fine." Her voice came closer, gentler. "First time you've crossed entirely over into a world that you didn't belong to?" She asked.

Gwynn took a few steadying breaths before he could answer.

"That city wasn't part of my world. It didn't feel like this."

"Doesn't count," Not-Angie said. "Being that it's a crossroads, it still means it was partly in your world. You've now crossed a boundary into a world with no relation to your own. Once the nausea passes, you should allow yourself to feel good about it. Only the greatest of us are granted the right to travel through the Veil. It's an honour to set foot in a new world."

"Thanks, but I'd prefer to stick with just my own world," Gwynn said.

Not-Angie gave a heavy sigh. "You will feel different when we remove the blindfold and you see the true beauty of our home."

Gwynn slumped back against the seat, the sharp stabbing in his stomach subsiding into a dull ache.

"What's with the blindfold anyway?" He asked.

"Just one more way of deterring you from trying to escape," Not-Angie answered. "We wouldn't want you wandering off and accidentally getting yourself lost in oblivion. To be honest, I'd much rather be able to remove your shackles and have you come peacefully. However, our intelligence tells us you're quite loyal to your teammates and wouldn't leave them behind willingly."

"Why me? Why would anyone want me?"

For what seemed like the longest time, she only gave silence as an answer. They were probably under orders not to say anything.

"We don't need to know." It was the whipped girl who answered haughtily. "We are the servants of Odin and Asgard. Whatever is the desire of Asgard becomes the duty of the Valkyrie."

"So you don't know?"

Gwynn couldn't keep the surprise from his voice—which earned him a cuffing upside the head, obviously from the whipped girl.

"Tatiana, you will not do that again. Unless ordered."

The cold detachment in her voice struck a chord of fear in Gwynn.

"You see," Not-Angie said, "our main purpose is to visit other worlds to bring the greatest of their warriors here, to Asgard. We do not need to worry about what makes them significant or worthy of living in the halls of Valhalla, we only need know our master finds them worthy. In most cases, we aren't required to perform the full military extraction you were a part of today. Truthfully, all we need do on most worlds is prove who we are and people eagerly accompany us."

"I'm sorry. Until today, I'd never heard of you."
Except for a bunch of legends I never believed.
What had Pridament said when they'd faced the Gorgon—all myths contain some element of truth.

"If you had, would you have come with us when we asked?" Not-Angie asked. The other girl, Tatiana, had evidently felt the rebuke so badly he could hardly hear her breathe.

"Like your source said, I wouldn't have left my teammates. We had a mission and I would've finished it."

"You would turn down an invitation from the great, wise, and mighty Odin?"

Gwynn laughed a little, not out of disrespect—he didn't feel like being hit again—but because he realized what he was about to say was true. "I'm sorry, but on our world we have our own version of Odin, and he frightens me more than yours."

"That's only because you haven't met him yet," Not-Angie said with awe.

Behind them, thunder rumbled.

"That's not right," Not-Angie said.

The sound of bodies moving about the van.

"Do you see anything, Mistress?" Tatiana asked.

Gwynn guessed they'd opened a window, as he could hear the sounds of the world clearer. They were either on a dirt road, or no road at all, based on the sound the tires made. He couldn't hear much in the way of bird or animal noises, and now the window was open, he was certain they hadn't heard thunder.

Another jarring
Bang!
sounded much closer to them. The van veered to the left and overcorrected to the right, sending the rear fishtailing in a nauseating whip.

"Mistress?"

Gwynn enjoyed hearing panic in Tatiana's voice.

"We're under attack. All units," Not-Angie yelled, "report your situation."

"Unit Two, standard mortar shells coming from the East. We've received minor shrapnel damage to our body, but are able to continue."

"Unit Three, we're currently—"

Another explosion sounded, sending the rear of their own van skipping up into the air.

"Unit Four, all clear, but unit three has been lost."

"Cease update," Not-Angie screamed. "Units Two, Five and Six, break off and engage the enemy. Ourselves and Unit Four will continue with our cargo."

More explosions sounded around them. Gwynn could hear the whistling of the approaching shells, accompanied by an increased rate of pounding.

"Who's attacking us?" Gwynn demanded. He didn't know if he'd get an answer—more likely to earn him another slap.

More sounds of moving in the van. Someone hauled him out of his seat and shoved him hard against the opposite side of the van. He heard metal scraping against metal and clicks and locks. The van erupted in the deafening clapping of gunfire.