The Root Page 2

  “Shh.” She put her finger against his lips and helped him lie down in the bed, above the covers, his clothes still on. He was suddenly exhausted even though it was barely two in the afternoon. “Go to sleep, use the exercises I taught you. Everything will be better in the morning. I’ve called Matthias.”

  She stroked his shaved head as she used to stroke his hair when he was small and would crawl into her lap. She was gone before he could ask who Matthias was. He lay there and remembered the exercises his mom taught him as a child for clearing his mind and freeing his thoughts. He was too tired for the physical aspect, but just imaging the moves in his mind relaxed his body.

  When his eyes shot open, the sky outside his window was purple-black and dotted with a few stars, the others invisible among the light pollution. His thoughts felt sluggish and slow, so he lay there repeating the exercises his mom had taught him until he was more fully awake.

  He stood and approached the window, looking out onto the empty streets. The room felt too close all of a sudden, the house too small. He wanted to be out there, he could feel it in his chest, and lower, a burning need to move, to breathe the night air.

  He opened his bedroom door and listened. The only sound he could detect was the deep bass of music from his mom’s studio that meant she was working. Robert was likely already passed out from drinking Macallan 18 like it was Ancient Age.

  Pulling on a coat and scarf, he made no attempt to conceal his leaving as he passed Robert’s snoring body on the couch.

  The street was quiet and empty until he turned on to Geary itself. It was hard to find an empty main thoroughfare in San Francisco, no matter what time of day or night. Erik moved past closed coffee shops and sad bars with regulars lined up on stools they’d claimed so long ago they were practically rooted to the spot. He kept his head down, trying to ignore the memories Robert had stirred up.

  He only got a couple of slanted glances of recognition from the younger people he passed, but that made it that much harder to forget. Only two years ago he would have been thrilled at being recognized; he’d lived off the adoration and approval of the public. He’d been living his dream, or the dream he’d been told was his.

  The public was fickle as fuck though, and he should have remembered Clay Aiken or Frances Farmer or any Disney teen ever. He should have been more cautious but he’d been too invested in Daniel, too involved in it to see the danger right ahead of them. The fall was long and the looks he got from those who had been fans were completely different now—flashes of pity and/or disgust. It was easier to go out at night.

  Erik was trying to focus on what had happened to him today rather than two years ago when he heard it.

  Except that wasn’t exactly right.

  It wasn’t something he was hearing, it was something beating inside him. It felt like sound, like a yell for help right on the edge of his senses, but no one else on the street was reacting. He turned toward the sound, moving away from the comparatively busy street back into the more subdued suburb-like residential avenues. He followed the noise for two blocks until the sound was a constant scream in his ears and holding his hands over them did nothing. It was a sound no human could make, no matter the pain they were in.

  As he passed a small recessed driveway, he saw shadows move and fell into a crouch in the shade of the hedges lining the driveway. He didn’t know what he had seen, but all his instincts were telling him this was where he needed to be. The same feeling as earlier rose in his chest, beating under his skin, yearning to be free. He held it back desperately, waiting to see what was going on.

  What emerged from the shadows might have been human if it weren’t entirely too tall and thin, as if someone had taken a basketball player and stretched him on the rack. Its skin was a sickly yellow-green, its head too thin and pointed. Erik struggled to locate anything that looked like eyes or a mouth on the smooth surface of its face. All the limbs had extra joints, an additional curl to the fingers that felt like both disturbing invitation and warning. Curled up in one of those giant hands was a small child. Erik assumed the child was sleeping until the creature turned and he saw the wide-open eyes, the terrified stillness with which she held herself.

  The thing turned onto the street and Erik realized he only had seconds before it saw him. He let go of his resistance and the tide swamped his mind, pulling him along. All thoughts of Daniel, the past, Robert, were muted. He only saw the thing coming toward him, his senses were hyper-focused and his fists clenched so hard he felt his knuckle bones groan and creak.

  In the moment before it saw him he moved, charging the thing. It let out a fast angry stream of some language, similar to the scream that still sounded in his head. Instead of dropping the child, the thing lifted her high into the air, out of his reach. Its arm looked like it should have snapped under the girl’s weight, yet it was firm and steady while the other hand came whipping toward his face.

  Erik’s own arm raised in response and their forearms met. There was a sharp crack from the thing’s arm and a smaller echo that Erik could feel through his body. The sensation, not quite pain, focused him further. He used his momentum to sweep the broken limb out of his way and climb up the thing’s body, slamming the toe of his boots into its legs and then torso for footholds. He pushed off of the thing’s chest as it fell beneath his feet, launching himself up and reaching both arms for the child. He grasped both the child and the hand still holding her aloft, then twisted his body to the side and allowed himself to fall. The limb broke under his weight and they slammed into the ground.

  He used his body to shield the child, ignoring the shockwave of his back slamming into the concrete, all the air forced from his lungs. His body did not listen to the lungs screaming for air or the throbbing through his arm and back; he rolled to his feet and sprinted back up the drive. Dampness leaked through the front of his shirt and the foul smell of ammonia assaulted his senses.

  This was what he got for rescuing children.

  As he set her on her feet, he realized the smell had nothing to do with her. It came from the liquid that ran down his chest in thin white rivulets from the disconnected arm he now held along with the child. He quickly broke the cage of its fingers.

  “Go, now.”

  The little girl looked at him for a second before nodding and running back into the shadows under the house, to whatever door was nestled there. As she ran to safety, the high-pitched whine that had drawn him here faded and he noticed another voice screaming behind him.

  His breath returned and though he knew his arm and back were injured in some way, he felt no pain, simply a throb that was easy to ignore. The thing was rising back to its feet, its now-shorter limb held to its chest. Erik felt the rage and pain in the air, alien but still recognizable as it flared across his skin. It ran toward him, the lope of its too-long legs making it seem as if it bounced above the ground, as if gravity had a lesser hold on it. Erik smiled as he rushed to meet it.

  MATTHIASS

  He watched the young man fight the Angelic. He wasn’t bad, not at all. Completely undisciplined and untrained, yes, but not unskilled. Most of the hits he took were ones he could not avoid, and the blows he returned were calculated to cause maximum damage. He didn’t know how to protect himself though; everything was focused on ripping his opponent to shreds.

  Whatever bloodline he was, it was not to be taken lightly. A fighter bloodline, not a warrior one. Warriors weighed attacks, fought to win with the least expenditure of energy. Warriors planned long term; fighters inflicted pain and focused on winning the current conflict, no matter the cost.

  The Angelic ran for him, diving low at the last second to try and catch him unawares, but the man’s reflexes were too good. He launched himself up at the last second, coming down with his knees bent and smashing the Angelic’s other arm.

  It wasn’t a fair fight; the Angelic was Al-Kutbay and they were a knowledge bloodline, not a physical one. He’d seen a lot of unbalanced fights in his twenty-three ye
ars but this was definitely one of the worst.

  Only as the Angelic tried to escape with two broken limbs and the new Blooded wouldn’t let it did Matthias understand Yida’s worried phone call. He’d been angry, forced to cash in a favor from an Ereshkigal-Blooded businesswoman in Hong Kong for quicker transport through the realm of the dead. Now he understood her urgency.

  Her son wasn’t a fighter. He was a berserker.

  “Fuck me,” he cursed softly but quickly sealed his lips against the string of expletives that sprang to mind. If the Organization or, ancestors forbid, the Agency had found him? It would have been a disaster. The Org wouldn’t hesitate to use him up, the same way they had Luz, the last berserker to join them. Two months to burn-out.

  And the less thought given to what the Agency Suits would do to him the better.

  Below him Yida’s son was still beating the shit out of the Angelic, with prejudice. He’d broken one of the thing’s legs and was in the process of digging his fingers into its chest. They were fast approaching the point of no return.

  The Suits were probably already on their way. There was no time to observe more.

  Matthias swung himself over the edge of the roof, running silently down the metal stairs of the fire escape. The power of Artemis-Agrotera surrounded him and he smiled wide as he jumped the three stories down to the ground and landed in a perfect crouch.

  The young man growled low in his throat and Angelic blood spotted his body in white. Neither combatant noticed him, blood of the huntress making him little more than a shadow. Matthias reached into his pocket for his extendable baton. Yida’s son turned just as Matthias’s swing caught him on the chin, knocking him out.

  That the berserker had noticed him at all spoke to his eventual power. Matthias bent, flinging his unconscious charge over his shoulder, staggering at the unexpected weight. As soon as Erik was in contact with Matthias, he was shrouded by the huntress as well.

  And none too soon. Two Suits turned into the driveway seconds later. They froze at the groaning Angelic bleeding out on the ground.

  “Holy shit!” the young blond woman with short slicked-back hair called as she knelt beside it. She reached for its chest, laying her hands palm down on either side. Her partner, an older Latina woman with a shaved head, leaned over to see.

  “What the fuck happened?”

  “Who knows! Both hearts are still functioning at least. Call it in.”

  The other woman was already on the phone. Meanwhile Matthias moved slowly back toward the fire escape. After muttering into the receiver, she turned it away and spoke to her partner.

  “At least it’s still alive! Can you imagine the Court’s response to one of their own dying on a sanctioned retrieval mission?”

  She pulled the phone close again.

  “We need emergency services for a dimensional visitor. Currently alive but missing three limbs.” The woman paused. “Four-limbed humanoid, two hearts. To be honest it looks like it was beat all the way to hell.” She glanced around, her gaze sweeping over Matthias and his passenger with no recognition. “No, no sign of any others. But—I-I understand. Roger that.” She hung up and joined her partner in applying makeshift tourniquets to the stumps in an attempt to stem the bleeding a bit.

  “We’re to stay here until help arrives. Then we complete the acquisition.”

  The blond’s face lost all expression.

  Matthias had heard enough; his plans changed. Simply getting his new charge out of here would not be enough. He couldn’t take on two Suits while worrying about the unconscious young man, not to mention whoever they were trying to kidnap.

  He growled.

  No matter how much he hated the Organization, at least if the girl was Blooded they would offer her a choice; at least members could leave. The Agency would claim the child in the interest of national security and once they had her, getting her out would be next to impossible. There would be no going back, so he could not let her be taken. He climbed the fire escape quickly and laid the young man on the gravel roof. Pulling the b’caster he never used from his boot, he held the small triangle of metal up to the side of his head. Five lurid pink cables emerged with a wet slurping sound. He shuddered as one snaked into his ear canal, two created a loop over his right eye, and the final two traced the shape of his lips, leaving them feeling heavy and sore.

  The necessity of the private network to hide from the Agency made sense, but he still hated the feel of the b’casters. The image of a young woman sputtered to life; he closed his left eye to bring her more in focus. She was pale and the hair sprouting from her head was pure white. She wore a graphic geometric t-shirt and the same repetitive triangle design shaved into the sides of her head. She looked down at something the b’caster did not deign to show him. Her head came up suddenly and her eyes widened in shock before a professional mask slipped into place.

  “Independent Matthias. Ca—can we help you with something?”

  “Yes. I’m standing outside of 642 17th Avenue, Inner Richmond, San Francisco, California. Two Suits are outside with a very injured Angelic. They are planning ‘an acquisition’ of someone within.”

  There was silence as the young woman again looked down at something he could not see. He controlled the urge to scream. He knew the movement of her hands meant she was doing something, probably connected mentally to several other people. He was irrational when it came to the Organization, he recognized that, but it was no reason to heap abuse on those as fooled as he’d once been.

  Finally she looked up and spoke. “We have two Blooded just a couple miles away, they should be there in a few minutes. Can you watch over the situation in case anything changes before they arrive?”

  Matthias looked down at his friend’s son lying still behind him on the gravel rooftop. He didn’t seem to be waking up.

  “Yeah, I can stay for a few minutes.”

  “Excellent. I’ll leave the line open; please alert me if anything changes.”

  “Fine,” Matthias grumbled. He closed the eye the b’caster was broadcasting to and looked over the scene below. The two Suits scurried around the writhing Angelic as an ambulance skidded around the corner, lights dark and sirens silent. A man and woman jumped out of the back, dressed in plain dark gray jumpsuits.

  Once they were taking care of the Angelic, the two women first on the scene turned toward the house. Matthias did the same, reaching for the monocle he wore around his neck and holding it up to his eye, a gift from a spell-twister of Orunmila’s line. It extended physical sight into the infrared and ultraviolet spectrums, as well as a few spectrums science had yet to discover.

  The night became clear as day to him and the house looked the same. He frowned and blinked quickly twice, the lens shifting to show the flow of godspower in the area. The house was wrapped in a web of violet light, no true pattern to the fibers that enclosed the house, no art but plenty of power. So much so it was leaking out, silencing the whole neighborhood. It looked like a spool of loose threads slowly spinning, threads falling loose.

  As he stared he saw movement through one of the upper story windows.

  Probably the girl trying to wake her parents. If the girl was strong enough, untrained, to fight off the binding that had felled her entire neighborhood, well . . . he would have loved to take her on. But he had other priorities. The body behind him started to groan as he came to and Matthias cursed and looked up and down the street.

  Matthias reopened his right eye and spoke to the image of the young woman that flared to life.

  “The Suits are approaching the house. ETA on the Blooded?”

  “They’ve encountered some kind of difficulty and are taking care of it right now. ETA—three minutes.”

  “We don’t have three minutes.”

  The silence that greeted him sounded like agreement. Really good Suits could complete an acquisition in less than a minute, be gone in two.

  The body behind him groaned again. Matthias couldn’t afford to directly i
nvolve himself, he had other responsibilities, but a trained hunter always had other options.

  “I cannot directly involve myself but will attempt to wake the neighborhood.”

  “Understood.”

  He reached into another of numerous pockets sewn onto his pants and top. Everything important was on his body at all times. He’d been in Athens just two hours ago when Yida’s message had finally reached him.

  He pulled out a rock. Through the monocle it glowed with sparkling pink light. It bubbled like champagne and he almost expected it to tickle his fingers, but it simply cascaded down his arm before disappearing. Matthias let the monocle fall back around his neck. He took aim, but it was a simple shot, really. He threw the rock, and though he could see nothing without the monocle the effect was immediate, the backlash of the broken power swept over him, set dogs to barking and bats to flying, cats to yowling and raccoons into hiding. He felt all the animals, all of nature around him react.

  Anyone with the least bit of sensitivity would feel it, like icy fingers had plunged into their sides, past skin and muscle, down until they grasped bone. A soft whimper sounded behind him and it was all Matthias could do not to follow suit. It had been messy, but the dampening spell had been lousy with power that burned as it dissipated.

  Why so much effort over one person? She had to be a powerful Blooded.

  The houses around them came awake. Lights flashed on so quickly Matthias was left blinking in the ambient light. The ambulance and the Suits who had come along with it had already hurried away with their charge. The two original Suits froze, lit up like Christmas trees, before continuing on to the front door, now aware of being watched by at least one nosy neighbor.

  Matthias leaned back from the roof and breathed a sigh. There would be enough time for the Blooded to get here now. Matthias’s teeth clenched at the idea of turning over anyone to the Organization, but his hands would be full with Yida’s son. He turned to look back at his charge.

  And was knocked ass over by something large and angry. Before he could catch his bearing, his breath was cut off and he was being lifted into the air by a band of iron around his throat. His vision was already growing gray at the edges when his eyes landed on an Angelic unlike any he’d ever seen.