dreamed. “I remember.” Not that there was much she could do about her worries now. The train was going to stop in the arcology. She hadn’t felt this out of control since that first mad horse ride away from Cricklade the day Quinn Dexter appeared.
That the fight around the skyscraper would be uneven was never in doubt. Even so, the effectiveness of the police tactical team was impressive. Heavy-calibre portable weapons deployed by the front line were backed up by X-ray lasers from the rear support groups, far enough back to resist glitching by the possessed. As a consequence, very few possessed actually made it in to the skyscraper; and judging by the amount of gunfire coming from inside, the sect members weren’t exactly a pushover. That was where the commercial sensevise coverage ended. B7 immediately switched to the surviving sensors in the headquarters, watching nervous, indistinct figures creeping along dark smoke-filled corridors. One of them walked over a grid with twenty thousand volts running through it. The body ignited into a pillar of flame hot enough to melt the concrete corridor around it.
“Well, that’s a neat trick,” Northern Europe said. “What kind of energy level is that, do you think?”
“Could be total chemical conversion,” Central America suggested. “It can’t be a direct mass energy reaction. That would eliminate the entire arcology.”
“Hardly relevant,” South Pacific said.
“On the contrary,” Central America said. “The more we learn of their ability, the closer we come to defeating them.”
“You can hardly classify their death throes as part of their ability.”
“All information is useful,” Western Europe said, deliberately bleeding a note of snobbery in to his representation’s voice. “We wouldn’t have had this kind of success without it.”
“Success?” South Pacific pointed at the image above the conference table. The possessed had burnt out, leaving a human sculpture of ash standing amid the drizzle of molten carbon-concrete. It pitched over, disintegrating into a slush of grey flakes. “That’s a success; Edmonton under siege from the possessed? May we please be preserved from your failures.”
“By studying the data on Dexter we determined his likely course of action. I told you he’d betray the remaining possessed to us. This merely proves I was right all along.”
“And Edmonton is not under siege,” North America said. “The police tactical teams have the possessed surrounded.”
“Wrong,” South Pacific said. “That friend of Carter McBride won’t be among this group. You haven’t got him surrounded.”
“He is not a threat to anyone other than Dexter,” Western Europe said.
“Only in your book. As far as I’m concerned, nothing has changed. One invisible possessed and one elusive possessed are running round loose. Your territories remain embargoed.”
“Thank heavens for that. We all know what would happen to Edmonton if you had any say in events over here.”
“At least with my way only one arcology suffers. I can’t believe you’re willing to expose another to Dexter.”
“You can’t win at this level without taking risks. And I do intend to win. Dexter is the epitome of all we have fought against these last five hundred years. He is the yobbish anarchy that B7 has successfully banished from this world. I’ll not have him return. The investment in blood and money it has cost us must be honoured.”
“You sound like a third-rate Shakespearean king the night before battle. Damn, and you accuse me of arrogance.”
Banneth walked back into her sanctum as the police tactical team searched through the rest of the sect headquarters for any possessed that might have survived the assault. She knew none had, but it wasn’t her place to interfere. The North American supervisor had given the police commissioner instructions that she was to be left alone, along with her suite of rooms. Senior officers had taken up position outside the doors to enforce the order in case any of the tactical team turned bolshie. People hyped high on adrenaline after a fight were liable to have a healthy disregard for authority, especially where the possessed were concerned.
The rest of the sect, those that had survived, weren’t so fortunate. Police officers, while sympathetic to their erstwhile allies, were disarming and cuffing them. The temple was proving a popular viewing point for awed, angry officers. Quinn’s last two victims were still in there on show. And when the forensic crew got to work they’d find an awful lot of DNA samples around the altar and in the drains. It was going to be a busy night down at Edmonton’s justice hall.
The sanctum was a wreck. A couple of lights had survived when the ceiling cracked open, hanging on their cables, spinning slowly round and round. Clear fluid from the life support canisters sloshed over Banneth’s shoes, several centimetres deep and tinged with blood. Most of the canisters had been smashed, spilling their bizarre occupants on to the floor. Their tubules had invariably torn out, depriving them of the vital chemicals she was feeding into them, leaving the poor creatures to flop their limbs (those that had any) feebly until death overcame them. The organs and appendages that were simply being suspended until she found a use for them were ruined.
Banneth picked up the oil painting of Mary Shelley and tipped the broken glass out of its frame. Life- support fluid had discoloured the canvas quite badly. She stared at the author’s drawn face for a moment, then sighed and cast the painting aside. “How poetic,” she said quietly. Her suspicions about the sanctum were strengthening. There was an awful lot of damage considering it hadn’t taken a direct hit. If the structural quakes and blastwaves from the explosions had been this powerful they ought to have brought down the entire skyscraper.
Louise Kavanagh has arrived,western europe said. Please stick to the scenario we worked out.
Sure.she knew her rebelliousness was coming through. Not that it mattered. She certainly couldn’t evade the supervisors. That was the bargain she’d shaken on all those years ago. Not that she’d ever suspected it would come to this: a suicide bait. But when you sign in blood, you must expect the devil to write the small print in his favour.
Go down to one of the lower floors,western europe said. I don’t want Louise to see your little dungeon of horrors. It’s important she isn’t upset by you.
Banneth hesitated. Her legs quivered, a pointed reminder of what this particular affinity bond was capable of. If she refused, they would simply take her over and puppet her body.
Okay, God’s Brother I’m doing it. Just don’t expect me to smile and say thanks.she turned slowly, gazing carefully round the ruins. One last nostalgic look. A cool breeze drifted against her cheek, causing the dangling lights to sway as they spun. The door was shut.
Is something the matter?north america asked.
No,she said, then relented. they could pick up on her emotional state easily enough through affinity. Possibly. I think he might be in here with me right now. I have the feeling I’m being watched. It’s the spookiest thing.she projected a starched ironic smile.
Call out,western europe said excitedly. Challenge him. Provoke him. Something. See if you can get him to materialize. We only need a second.
“Quinn? Is that you, my little darling? Are you here at last?” Banneth put out a hand and stroked the central table, fingers lingering on the straps. “Have you come home to me? You’re not afraid are you, my darling? I made you better than that. Remember that beautiful pain that birthed you. I cleansed you of fear amid that pain so you could serve God’s Brother properly. And you have, haven’t you. How you’ve grown since I banished you. The very messiah of darkness, now. That’s what you claim, isn’t it. But can you do what you claim, or have you become
