First Angels Read online

  “As would you.” She barely realized she had muttered it out loud until she noticed anger stain his expression.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I know how important it is for you that these people feel safe, I mean.” She tried to mask her blunder, but something inside her recoiled at the thought of helping this man tighten his grip on the city. “As a concerned member of this community.”

  “I am a concerned member of the community.”

  “I know. But it is not my place to carry out the will of humans. I carry out the will of the gods. Theirs alone. I will not intervene if they have not told me to do so.”

  “Did the gods tell you to stand in the city square and sound the call to war?”

  She hesitated. “No, they did not. But they -”

  Her words trailed off as she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. Something was amiss. There was a whirl in the crowd, a sound through the music, a whisper of something wrong in the room. Artov didn’t notice. “They what?”

  There was a blue-white glow, shrouded in shadow.

  “Get down!”

  Isavel flung her arm out and shoved the Mayor away even as she called up a shield on her wrist to block the incoming fire. A hunter was just unleashing the first in a volley of shots aimed directly at the Mayor, but she caught them all on her shield and shot back in his direction, missing twice and catching the assassin the third time, puncturing his shoulder.

  She saw a glimmer and heard a hum to the side, and someone was darting in from the hall outside, energy blades around both hands, closing in on them. She called up a shield on her palms, a small but potent one, and let it shatter as she fired it, the energy dissipating into a shockwave that knocked everyone down in front of her, assassin included.

  Somebody else started shooting, though they were aiming where the assassin had been standing a moment ago. Isavel shouted.

  “Grab them!”

  Suddenly the gifted and otherwise armed in the room were in action, more shots were fired, and in moments the room had descended into chaos.

  Were there more attackers, or were people just shooting out of confusion?

  She dragged the Mayor out of the ballroom and into the hall, holding broad hexagonal shields on both sides and keeping an eye out for more attackers, but none came. After a few moments, the ballroom calmed down, and there was shouting.

  “Stop shooting!”

  “I don’t see anyone else!”

  “Who is she? Is she alive?”

  Isavel stood up, helping the Mayor to his feet. She hoped, briefly, that he might apologize or thank her or something, but she had no such luck.

  She shook him. “Are you alright?”

  He nodded. “Ghosts?” As he said that, she wondered who else had ever expressed an interest in killing him.

  “I would think so, but let’s find out.”

  Isavel strode back into the ballroom, and found the warrior who had attacked them restrained by three people. They held her steady as Isavel approached, and she looked down at the woman’s pale features. The assassin was looked equal parts smug and angry, but she was not afraid.

  Sorn rushed to her side. “Isavel! You disappeared for a second. Are you okay?”

  She reached out to squeeze his arm. “Of course. Thanks.”

  He sounded like he had done something wrong, though she wasn’t sure why. He hadn’t been anywhere nearby, so there was only so much he could have done in those few moments. Or did he think he had failed in some grander duty to protect the Herald? It would have to wait - there were important things to deal with now. She turned to the would-be assassin.

  “Who are you?” The assailant laughed, and Isavel started thinking. How could she get this person to trust her, to want to tell her the truth, whatever that was? “What’s your name?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” The warrior’s eyes were wild. “Just kill me and get it over with.”

  “I have no interest in killing you.” Isavel lowered her voice. “I can torture you, though.”

  The woman spat. “You’re not that kind of person.”

  The ghost was probably right. “Oh? What makes you think that?”

  “I’ve heard of you, thrice-gifted. The White Witch. Everyone knows you like your graceful and compassionate airs.”

  Isavel lunged forward and grabbed the woman by the collar, lifting her up and throwing her against the wall. Peripherally, she saw some of the guests jolt back at the sudden motion. Even as the warrior fell down, Isavel grabbed her by the neck again, lifted her up and pinned her against the wall, and delivered a bare-fisted and utterly satisfying punch straight to her face, knocking teeth out and drawing blood.

  “I have enough nicknames already.” She growled. “Now let’s discuss -”

  The warrior’s arms were free, and as she drew them up Isavel moved to pin her in place, anticipating the assassin would try to assassinate her now, instead. The warrior managed to surprise her, though, calling up a thin energy blade and stabbing herself up through the jaw, into her skull. She fell limp instantly, the blade bursting and blood gushing from the wound.

  Isavel flinched from the burst of energy and dropped the body on the ground, hand and forearm splattered with blood, but she was unharmed. Everybody nearby was staring at her - her friends who had first appeared in concern for her safety; the guests; and the Mayor, who now looked like he wasn’t sure whether he was more afraid of the ghosts or of her.

  She took a moment to collect a ragged breath, hold it, and let it out smooth.

  “She was a ghost.” She spoke loud and clear, pointing at the corpse. “They’re spirits, not from this world, so why should they fear leaving it?”

  She met several sets of eyes as she spoke, her gaze finally falling on the Mayor.

  “We need to end this. We need your help, Mayor.”

  His response was, to say the least, not what she had hoped.

  “How do I know you didn’t send them in here?” His face grew redder. “Pretty fucking convenient that they attacked when you were right next to me - and there were only two of them? In a public space? What kind of a shitty assassination plan is that?”

  Isavel ran both hand through her hair in exasperation. Anger wouldn’t help - the gods wouldn’t want anger from her, now. She needed to be better. Stronger. She spoke loud, almost yelling but holding herself back just enough. “There are bigger things going on here than your own ego, Mayor! The gods themselves have sent me here to deal with this problem. Put your paranoia aside and get me that information, or the next ghosts will end up killing you.”

  “Learn some respect, you self-righteous zealot, and until you have, get the hell out of my city!” He turned away, his servants following in a circle as though he were in danger. “And take your gods-damned army with you!”

  She watched impotently as he was led to the same back door that Ada had exited through not long before. Then he was gone, and an amazingly awkward silence fell over the ballroom, broken only by the music. The music switched to something less ethereal and more percussive, as though only just catching up to the state of affairs.

  Where were Mother Jera and Elder Tan? Could they even help at this point? Isavel felt abandoned in the room, with all these faces looking to take their cues from her now, but she had to do her best.

  “Let’s clean this up.” She pointed at the bodies. “And this can’t be the whole story - there must be more going on tonight. Eyes open, ears sharp.”

  Just talking into the room wasn’t going to get anything done, though. She singled out her friends and addressed them directly.

  “Marea, Rodan - can you help the guards check to make sure the building is safe? Ren, Zoa; help people clean these things up. Sorn, can you watch my back? I need to go make sure our elders are okay.”

  Her friends nodded, their looks of concern wiped away by the simple acknowledgement of orders. Orders. Isavel only belatedly realized she was giving them orders rather than making suggestions as a fr
iend, but that was only normal in these kinds of situations, wasn’t it?

  As she moved to leave the ballroom and find the elders, Marea put a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?” She spoke in her native language to let a more nuanced note of concern seep through.

  “I’m fine.” Isavel set her jaw. “I’m not about to get hurt by a couple of ghosts.”

  “What will happen now?”

  Isavel looked around; the locals, those who were more familiar with the Mayor than with her, were looking at her with a mixture of fear and awe. Things were complicated; things were always complicated.

  “I don’t know. If we can get everything here in order - make sure everyone is safe - maybe we can still convince the Mayor that we’re on his side. We need to make sure he’s willing to provide us with that information; otherwise this will all have been a waste of time, and we’ll have a long and really tedious hunt ahead of us.”

  Chapter 6

  Ada left the ballroom feeling more than a little confused. Who was Isavel? Why had she shown up here, in Hive, in the Mayor’s tower of all places? And why did she want the Mayor to disappear?

  There was more to Isavel’s presence than just coincidence, if the nervous energy in Ada’s gut was anything to go by. Something was unspoken here, but she would have to wait to investigate any further, if at all . She had things to take care of, and in the meantime she could only hope Isavel was not just another undercover ghost .

  The service hallways back here were mostly barren, long since stripped of whatever decorations they may have had in ancient times. Only bare concrete was left, probably maintained by the ministrations of a watcher or two. She kept one hand on her gun as she moved through the corridors, subvocalizing to her ship. Cherry, I need to know if I’m going to run into anyone on the way to that elevator. Can you keep an eye out?

  Yes. I suggest a left at the next intersection.

  Ada couldn’t see or hear anything, but she did as suggested. As she moved down that hall, she started to hear voices behind her, not all of them Cherry’s.

  I suggest you walk faster.

  She muttered under her breath. “Don’t get snarky now. I actually like you.”

  Cherry guided her up two floors, through stairwells and hallways, until she reached a small, closed-off lobby behind a locked door that was easy enough to disintegrate. The lobby was featureless, except for the elevator access in the far wall. Ada approached it and looked for code, but found none. Instead, there was a simple-looking mechanical lock built into the door.

  The room wasn’t entirely devoid of code, though. Tiny etchings bled from the corners out into the ceiling, feeding the lights. Unfortunately, that was all the code she could see.

  Cherry, how does this thing work without code?

  There are code systems embedded inside the walls that react to the mechanical key, but they are inaccessible to you.

  Ada glanced at the walls above the lock. Can’t I just disintegrate the walls?

  That would disintegrate the code as well, rendering the elevator unresponsive.

  Well that was tricky, then. Ada wasn’t sure she had ever encountered anything quite like this before. How was she supposed to get to the elevator? She was not keen on climbing stairs for what must be at least forty floors.

  She stood in front of the elevator door and began touching it, looking for more code. She saw almost nothing on the door itself, though she remembered the sting of the reactive code on the outside of the building. Cautiously, she tested the waters with a simple light sigil. Nothing happened; it seemed safe.

  Ada, somebody is about to enter the room.

  Ada bolted away from the door, into the corner of the room, drawing her gun.

  You could have told me sooner!

  One of the black-suited servants walked into the room, immediately staring over at her with a frown. “What the -”

  “Stop right there!” Ada yelled and pointed her gun. When he saw the weapon he called up a well of energy into his palm, aiming straight for her.

  The second she saw the hunter’s gift she pulled up her shield, his shot impacted against it, and the angry hot ray of energy from her gun caught him in the chest and put a quick end to him. The charred body slumped to the floor.

  Shit. She needed to hurry. Disintegrating her way into the shaft might be a decent option after all.

  She set to work, etching in the structural disintegration sigil she had learned long ago, stretching it out to match the door’s size, just like she had done for the one leading into the lobby. When she completed the sigil, the code flashed, and she kicked. The door crumbled like a dried-out sand castle. If the elevator was in here, surely she could -

  She blinked. The elevator wasn’t here - the shaft was empty, dark grey and smooth-sided. No way up.

  “Aw shit.”

  She wracked her brain for any sigils, any code that might help here, but there was no easy code for building ladders out of nothing. And the tower was incredibly tall - how could she possibly get all the way up there? Could she float, somehow? If she went looking for stairs, she’d be putting herself at risk of getting caught.

  Suddenly her mind flickered back to the ring, to the suit she was wearing. When she had first found it, it was suspended in mid-air, and she had plucked it from some kind of flotation field.

  Cherry, do you know any code?

  I can look up potential applications or solutions that may be available to you.

  Any code that could make me float up an elevator shaft? I saw something floating in the ring - I know it can be done.

  Gravitic field manipulation is one of many possible applications of code, yes. I can send you documentation -

  Can you display a sigil in my eyesight? Like when you display paths? Through the suit, so I can just trace the thing right away.

  Yes.

  Suddenly her vision was filled with a sigil whose gentle colours perfectly contrasted with the space behind it. It was complex, but not unworkable. There were parts she didn’t understand, and she sorely wished she could, but for now there was no time. She stepped into the elevator shaft; the floor was only centimeters lower than the floor lobby. It didn’t go any further down than this.

  Warn me if that elevator starts coming down . She started tracing.

  Inherent potential energy won’t be enough to lift you thirty-six floors . Cherry’s comment made her frown. Some amount of energy existed in any code, latently - but if that wouldn’t be enough, where was she supposed to -

  Then she smiled. Outside, in the lobby, there were lights. Those lights were being powered by something besides code’s inherent energy - and whatever that was, she could use it too. Such was the beauty of code - fragmentary, modular, recombinatory. She continued tracing the levitation sigil; she could do this. She could do anything.

  The sigil in her vision mapped to the ground perfectly, and Ada barely noticed the intricacies as she traced. A single complex core anchored the sigil, unknown to her, but in its orbit were several layers of energy redirection and control, including a few she recognized as power connection nodes. When she was done, the circular sigil filled almost the entire shaft floor, and she traced out from a power connection with her finger.

  Then she stepped back into the lobby.

  Cherry - all clear?

  Nobody is approaching the lobby at the moment.

  She nodded, smiled, and started looking. The walls flickered with occasional glimmers of code, and she devoured them all into her tentacular effort, siphoning away power from all the code she could find into the elevator shaft. And with each connection she made, the code glowed brighter.

  The lights dimmed and fell out as she leeched their power away, but it didn’t feel like enough yet. Stepping onto the sigil, she felt lighter - significantly lighter, like she weighed almost nothing - but she was still being pulled down . And yet, there seemed to be no more power to draw from the darkened lobby.

  Hm.

  She looked around,
as though she could sense energy and power coursing through the walls, and might find something. Instead, though, she felt nothing but the weight of her pack, and the gun bouncing around in it.

  The gun.

  Ada grinned. She knew how to code a power reservoir that absorbed light and heat - she had figured that out long ago, a simple trick for getting more energy out of an ambient location without much to offer. So she knelt down and, in what room remained in a corner of the elevator shaft, she hurriedly traced out the fairly straightforward lines that would create a repository for energy, to be slowly leaked out at whatever rate she wanted. She didn’t connect it to the sigil she had planted in the middle of the elevator, though - not yet. She wanted a flood of power all at once, not a steady trickle.

  She stood in the centre of her gravity-defying sigil, feeling light as a feather, and aimed her gun at the reservoir. She fired a bright beam of fiery hell directly at the reservoir, feeling the heat of the impact curl around her toes as the reservoir gobbled it up. The code glowed brighter and brighter as waves of hot air and dust licked the inside of the elevator shaft.

  She got down on her knees again and, with a grin, connected the reservoir.

  Ada immediately felt herself falling upwards as the sigil flared an order of magnitude brighter. Dust rose up, her bag rose up, everything in the elevator shaft started rising, and Ada was along for the ride. She tried to straighten out but instead found herself disoriented, shoving off the walls as she bounced against them, squirming to keep her head from the concrete.

  Still, it was a gentle ascent, and one that took her far higher into the tower than she had anticipated. Once she steadied herself, she looked back down, and saw the sigil holding her aloft fade into a dim splash of light in the dark. She looked up, swapping her gun to its flashlight mode, and started to look for the top. Apparently a flashlight was useful for something.

  The energy reservoir powering your gravitomorphogenetic nanomesh will deplete soon , Cherry’s mostly meaningless jargon slid into one ear and right out the other. I recommend you find an exit.