Shadowrun 43 - Fallen Angels Read online

  Prologue

  Even the elves of Tir Tairngire feared the wilderness, and with good reason. They were haunted, those forests and mountains. They had been transformed—by the wild, untamed force of magic, the power unleashed in the Awakening in 2011—into places out of legend . . . places not at all friendly to visitors. Even the elves of Tir Tairngire feared the wilderness, and with good reason. They were haunted, those forests and mountains. They had been transformed—by the wild, untamed force of magic, the power unleashed in the Awakening in 2011—into places out of legend . . . places not at all friendly to visitors.

  The inhabitants of the Land of Promise knew better than most just how unpredictable, how capricious, magic could be. So they stayed clear of the deep forests and the smoking mountains. One such isolated area was an ideal place to perform the work going on that night, but the remoteness of the wilderness location only served to increase the nervousness of the woman called Mustang. She stood on the rocky slope of the mountainside—looking out over the dark forest that stretched in all directions, and the tattered clouds veiling the half-lit face of the waning moon—and tried not to worry about what was going on in a nearby cave.

  The wind moaned, whipping loose strands of hair across her face, and she turned up the collar of her jacket, wishing for something warmer than synth-

  leather and ballistic armor lining. She zipped the jacket up as high as it would go, cradling a sleek automatic pistol in her right hand.

  A faint sound, a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye, and the gun swung up and around, laser sight showing as a faint red gleam in the darkness, painting a targeting dot on the shadowy figure approaching close at hand.

  "Easy!" came a low voice from the shadows. Mustang slowly lowered her weapon, but kept it ready in her hand.

  "You shouldn't sneak up on me like that," she scolded, looking back out over the dark vista.

  "Sorry, force of habit." He moved closer, until he was standing just behind her shoulder. "When I can't surprise someone, it's time to get out of this business."

  Mustang snorted faintly. "I wonder if it isn't that time already," she muttered. "I have a bad feeling about this, Silk."

  Her companion rested his hand gently on her shoulder.

  "It'll be fine," he reassured her. "We're almost finished. Once Marc has taken care of his business, we can get the frag out of this place. I know I won't miss it."

  "I think I will, in a way." Mustang drew a deep breath and let it out in a slow sigh. "It's not like most people believe, some faerie-tale kingdom, but it is . . . magical."

  "Sure, if you happen to have been born with pointed ears," Silk said derisively. "I didn't see too much of the 'magical land' in the slums of Portland, did you?"

  She shook her head slowly. "No, but still . . . it's like there's something in the air here."

  "Well, I think you might have a somewhat biased view of elf culture," Silk replied, his voice gently mocking.

  Mustang just smiled. He was right about that. She would never look at Tir Tairngire, or elves, in quite the same way ever again. Her life would never be the same as it was before they came here—assuming they made it out alive.

  Silk gently squeezed her shoulder. "Don't worry," he said, reading her look of concern. "He's going to be fine. He knows what he's doing."

  So he says, she thought, turning to face Silk. "It's not him I'm worried about," she said, and Silk nodded grimly.

  "I know. But she wants out just as much as he does."

  "Does she? I still don't know for sure."

  "We needed her help."

  "No. It was just easier with her help," Mustang countered.

  Silk shrugged. "So, it was easier. Since when have you had a problem with an opportunity to do things the easy way?"

  "Mostly when it involves people I can't trust."

  "Hey, that's life in the shadows," Silk said. "Can we really trust anybody?"

  Mustang stared over Silk's shoulder at the cave entrance that was guarded by the dark crags of the mountains on either side. "One of us should be in there."

  Silk shook his head slowly. "I feel the same way, but Marc doesn't need the extra distraction, and you don't want to interrupt a wizard while he's working."

  "It should have been me," Mustang insisted, "or you, not her."

  "I think he wants you out of danger," Silk replied, "and I think he trusts me least of all. I'm not an elf, and I'm not . . ." Mustang's eyes narrowed, and Silk just shrugged and left the rest of the comment unspoken. "I think he's a little jealous of me," he concluded instead. "He sees me as competition. I know, I know," he continued before Mustang could reply, "I'm not, but he doesn't seem to know that. We work well together. It's easy to mistake that for something else."

  She looked longingly at the cave entrance, her thoughts far away.

  "You really do love him, don't you?"

  Mustang's gaze jerked back to Silk. The bald statement shocked her like a wave of cold water.

  "Yeah, I really do." It was the first time she'd admitted it to anyone else and acknowledged that this was more than just another mission—that, after this, things wouldn't be the same.

  She looked at the cave entrance again.

  "Silk," she said, and he turned to look. Red-gold light was pulsing from the entrance, growing brighter, like a miniature dawn coming up inside the dark mouth of the cavern. Light poured out and illuminated the ledge as the sound of chanting echoed down the mountain, the sound growing in intensity with the light.

  Mustang had taken three running steps before Silk managed to grab her arm. She angrily tried to jerk free.

  "We can't interrupt!" Silk gritted out. "He said to stay here, no matter what happens!"

  She stopped struggling and stayed where she was. The chanting died away, but the light remained, glowing steadily, brightly.

  "What about that light? It'll be visible for miles."

  "There's nobody around for miles," Silk countered.

  "Patrols," she said stubbornly.

  "We'll be done and gone long before a patrol could get here. Will you just take it easy?"

  Mustang sighed, her burst of energy leaking away. "You're right. I just wish it was over."

  "What are you going to do when it is?"

  She shook her head slowly. "I don't know. Depends on what the company does, I guess." Silk nodded in agreement. It always depended on what the company wanted.

  "Well, you know if I can help . . ." he began, but a flicker of movement in the cave caught their attention. A shadowy figure dashed from the entrance.

  "Aerwin!" Silk shouted, but the slim figure didn't stop—didn't even slow—as she flew toward the tree line.

  "Marc!" Mustang cried, and ran for the cave. Silk hesitated for a second, afraid of what Mustang would find, then took off after the woman who had rushed down the slope.

  Aerwin had a good lead on Silk, but the rocky slope of the mountain was treacherous, and even she couldn't move too quickly. He thanked the implanted optics that magnified what little light came from the stars and veiled moon and allowed him to see as clearly as if it was daylight, avoiding obstacles and keeping track of the lithe figure in black moving in the shadows ahead.

  Silk put on a burst of speed and veered to the left, heading up a low ridge, then flinging himself off the edge. He tackled his quarry in midair, and they tumbled down the slope in a shower of loose stones.

  Aerwin scrambled to her feet. Silk took them out from under her with a sweep of his leg. She rolled to one side as he allowed his momentum to carry him in the opposite direction, and they both reached for their weapons. The optical signal processor at the base of his spine made Silk just a bit faster than his oppone
nt. His weapon cleared the holster, the laser sight painting a vivid red dot on the pale face in front of him, the elf's smooth skin gleaming almost like pearl in the moonlight.

  "Don't," was all he said, and Aerwin slowly lifted her hand from her pistol. "Stay down," he told her, careful to keep the gun level as he pressed his other hand against the ground and slowly stood up. The woman's dark eyes never left his, never flinched as the glare of the laser crossed them.

  "What the frag is going on?" Silk asked, afraid he already knew the answer. "You were playing us? This was just a setup? Why?"

  "We can make a deal . . ." she began, and Silk fought the urge to squeeze the trigger. Not until he found out what was going on.

  "Shut up," he said. "No deals. That was obviously a mistake the first time, and it's not going to happen again. I'm going to ask one more time: why?"

  Aerwin remained still and silent, but Silk's enhanced vision caught a gleam of something in one of the pockets on her close-fitting dark pants—a few links of a golden chain, hastily shoved into her pocket, had spilled loose in their struggle. Just as Aerwin followed his gaze, he stepped forward and crouched down, reaching to grab the trailing chain and pull it free.

  Her reaction was a fraction of a moment too late. Silk caught the chain and tugged, and it came out of her pocket. Along with it came a jade amulet in the shape of a dragon.

  "This is Marc's," he accused, eyes coming up to fix hers with a cold glare. "This is why you fragged us?"

  "You have no idea how completely," Aerwin said softly, with a poisonous smile.

  Suddenly the night turned to day as a blazing light stabbed down from the sky. Though Silk's optics compensated for the glare, he was momentarily dazzled, and reflexively sought the source of the light.

  Aerwin's kick sent his pistol flying, but Silk held onto the amulet. He dove to the side as her weapon cleared its holster. There was no cover on the slope, nowhere to hide as the dark-clad woman leveled her gun directly at him, no way she could miss at this distance. Silk had seen her take down far harder targets.

  The shot that came, however, wasn't from Aerwin's gun but from farther up the slope, and it sent her staggering back. Silk followed the sound of the shot and saw Mustang standing less than fifteen meters away, fierce determination creasing her face as she scrambled down the slope toward them. He saw that the light was coming from a helicopter hovering overhead, its searchlight sweeping the side of the mountain.

  "Drop your weapons!" a voice boomed in English.

  "Drop your weapons and put your hands on your heads!"

  In one sweeping glance, Aerwin took in Silk lying on the ground, Mustang approaching, and the chopper as it banked around for another pass. She didn't even hesitate before bolting again for the tree line. Silk could see that she was holding her left arm stiffly, but it barely slowed her movement.

  Mustang reached him just as he got to his feet. "Are you—?"

  "I'm fine," he said. "Let's get out of here."

  "Are you crazy? We can still catch her!" She started after Aerwin, but again Silk grabbed her arm.

  "We can't," he said. "It's a setup. Any second now, this place is going to be swarming with Tir patrols! We have to get out of here!"

  "Silk, she—" Mustang's voice broke.

  "I know!" he interrupted. "There's nothing we can do, Stang! We've got to get out of here!"

  Mustang looked at him for a long moment, her face streaked with tears, and took a deep breath. For that moment, Silk was sure she was going to fight him, insist on going after Aerwin regardless of the consequences. Then she let her breath out in a shuddering sigh.

  "You're right," she said. "Let's go."

  When the helicopter's searchlight swept over the area again, the shadowy figures were gone. All that remained was the flickering red-orange glow coming from the mouth of the cave high along the slope of the mountain, the wilderness and the haunted night.

  1

  Kellan Colt crouched beside the high chain-link fence surrounding the corporate office facility in Bellevue, all but invisible in the shadows pooled outside the ring of illumination cast by the halogen floodlights. She checked the fence carefully, gently touching a voltage tester to the metal mesh. It wasn't live. There were no signs saying it was, but some corporations ignored niceties like notifying potential intruders about their security, so it always paid to check. She glanced up at the strands of razor wire topping the fence. Not the most sophisticated deterrent, but still not easy to overcome for a person working alone. Kellan Colt crouched beside the high chain-link fence surrounding the corporate office facility in Bellevue, all but invisible in the shadows pooled outside the ring of illumination cast by the halogen floodlights. She checked the fence carefully, gently touching a voltage tester to the metal mesh. It wasn't live. There were no signs saying it was, but some corporations ignored niceties like notifying potential intruders about their security, so it always paid to check. She glanced up at the strands of razor wire topping the fence. Not the most sophisticated deterrent, but still not easy to overcome for a person working alone.

  Kellan was used to being on her own. From the time her mother left her with an aunt who cared more about her next drink and her next sim than family, Kellan had taken care of herself. She learned that you had to look out for number one, and it was a lesson that had been reinforced by living and working in the shadows, the spaces between "proper" and "recognized" society.

  She was on her own with her aunt. As soon as she could, she took off into the shadows of Kansas City, and she was on her own there. She worked with other runaways and small-time shadowrunners, but everyone looked out for their own interests. Then she got the mysterious package, containing some running gear, the amulet she always wore, and a note. "This stuff belonged to your mother. Thought you might want it," it said. No signature, no explanation. Nothing except for a postmark showing that the package had originated in the Seattle Metroplex.

  So Kellan set out with the last of her credit for Seattle, and was on her own there, for a while at least. She met new people in the shadows, made connections. Even then, she discovered the need to watch her back. She learned that she had the talent for magic, and began taking lessons from the troll mage Lothan, but she also ran up against Lothan on a job, discovering he hadn't told her or anyone else the whole truth about the run. That was the way it worked: nobody told the whole truth unless they had to, and everyone had an agenda of their own. Everyone looked out for number one. Even if you worked with a team, you still had to work alone. Like Kellan was alone. That was the way it was, she told herself, that was the way it had to be.

  She focused on that sense of solitude. She found that the feeling of being detached from the world around her made the magic easier. She drew on that feeling as she spoke the words of a spell Lothan had taught her, sensing the mana, the magical power flow around her. That power bent and warped light, reshaped shadow. As the last whispered syllables faded from her lips, Kellan faded from view.

  She took the compact bolt cutters from the sheath strapped to her thigh. What they lacked in leverage, they more than made up for in the specialization of their cutting edges—spun diamond monofilament. They quickly, silently snipped through the chain links as if the fence were made of cobwebs. In mere moments, Kellan cut an opening large enough to crawl through. She slipped through the hole and into the compound.

  If her information on the timing of the security sweeps of the grounds was accurate, she had only a few moments to wait. She glanced down at the barely visible phosphorescent glow of the chronometer on the back of her glove, which she had synched to the schedule she'd acquired. It had to be accurate, because if it wasn't, she was as good as caught. Her spell would protect her from causal notice, but the facility's cameras almost certainly had infrared capabilities. Her employer would deny any knowledge of her existence, of course—easy to do since Kellan had no real idea who her employer was. Anonymity was all-important in the shadows.

  She watched as th
e seconds ticked past, her body tense. Just a few more and . . . now!

  Kellan bolted away from the fence and headed for the side of the building, moving as quietly as she could, as quickly as she dared. Her gear was strapped on tight; the only sound she made was the whispering tread of soft-soled boots along the concrete. She pressed up against the cool outer wall, barely breathing hard, and glanced down at the time readout again. She'd made it with seconds to spare. Now came the tricky part.

  Moving along the wall, she reached a side entrance shown on the building schematics—a standard steel fire door. Beside the door, a narrow card slot was faintly illuminated by a burning point of red light set into the frame of the maglock. Kellan moved directly in front of the lock and took a passkey from a pocket of her jacket. This handy tool consisted of a circuit-imbedded plastic card trailing wires to a small keypad. She slotted the card, and the keypad flickered to life.

  She could easily use the passkey to scramble the lock and open the door quickly, but that would likely trigger alarms set to watch for any malfunction in the building's maglocks. The trick was to let the passkey cycle through possible combinations, until it found the right one to open the lock without arousing any suspicion. Unfortunately, the potential number of combinations was immense. Unless the passkey hit on the right one quickly, Kellan would have to try something else to get in, or abandon the run altogether. She waited in silence as the glowing numbers cycled on the passkey's screen.

  The seconds seemed to crawl past, unbearably slowly. Kellan barely allowed herself to breathe, her senses straining to detect any sign that she'd been spotted, watching for any approaching trouble. The numbers flashed past at computer-processing speeds, too quickly for human eyes to read.

  Suddenly, without warning, the numbers stopped. The light over the card slot changed from red to green, and there was a faint click as the lock disengaged. Kellan's breath whooshed out in a sigh of relief. Taking hold of the edge of the door in one gloved hand, she eased it open just enough to slide through, pulling it gently closed behind her.

  The hallway was lit by the dull, whitewash glow of phosphorescent bulbs, every other one turned off to conserve power at night. The walls were nondescript and sterile. No signs marked the way, but Kellan knew what she was looking for. She headed down the hall to where it intersected another and turned to the right.