Shadowrun 43 - Fallen Angels Read online

  The sound got louder. Orion's hand wrapped slowly and deliberately around the exposed hilt of his sword, but he didn't draw it. Midnight pressed herself against the tree trunk, GPS monitor held against her stomach to smother any light, head tilted back to catch every sound.

  A wind stirred the branches overhead and a shadow blotted out the light of the stars and the moon. Leaves rustled and Kellan had the impression of a powerful bulk flying just above the treetops. Moments after it passed, a piercing cry split the night—the high-pitched call of a hunter. It sent shivers down her spine as it echoed in the dark.

  It seemed like forever before the sound of the wing beats faded away, before Midnight signaled they could move, before Kellan felt like she could breathe once more. She stood, a bit stiffly, as Midnight took up the lead again. Kellan skipped a few steps ahead to catch up with her.

  "What the hell was that?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "A dragon?"

  Midnight shook her head. "Too small to be a dragon," she replied matter-of-factly. "Probably a wy-vern. This area is full of them."

  Full of them? Kellan thought, glancing in the direction she thought the creature had flown. Frag, what the hell had she gotten herself into?

  They reached the shores of the Columbia River a few hours before dawn. On the far side of the river, they could see the lights of the city of Portland and, only meters from the south bank of the river, the Portland Wall.

  It rose some ten meters high, formed out of gray ferrocrete and topped with coils of razor wire. It ran along the river as far as Kellan could see in either direction, surrounding the city that stood on the very edge of the elven nation. On the other side of the river was Tir Tairngire, the Land of Promise, the secure homeland established by elves, where they could live by their own rules. It was clear they didn't like uninvited visitors.

  Midnight stowed the GPS and they stood in the cover of the trees along the bank. Kellan turned to Orion, who had his head cocked to one side, his eyes with a distant look, as if listening for something.

  "When do these contacts of yours get here?" she asked. Orion's eyes shifted over to her, then down from her face toward her chest.

  "They're here already," he said quietly, and Kellan looked down to see a small red dot of laser light painted in the middle of her chest. Reflexively, her hand went toward her gun.

  "Telego carronasto!" a voice spoke quietly but commandingly from the shadows. "Do not move!" Orion caught Kellan's eye and nodded slightly, but she didn't feel all that reassured.

  "We've brought the payment we agreed on," Orion said. "Delarosa."

  A tall, slim figure stepped from the shadows of a tree only a few meters away. She was dressed in black and dark forest green, a commando-style pullover with pads of reinforced material at the shoulders and elbows, fatigue pants and laced-up boots. The hands holding the pistol trained at Kellan didn't waver, nor did her dark eyes. Her hair was cut short, such that Kellan took her for a man at first.

  "I hope your credit is better than your Sperethiel," the woman said with a lilting accent.

  "It's good," Orion affirmed. "Haven't we always dealt fairly with you?"

  A tight mockery of a smile tugged at the corners of the elf woman's mouth. "You Ancients aren't interested in things like fairness, or responsibility."

  "Some of us are."

  "You usually don't last long. Still," she slowly lowered the pistol and Kellan allowed herself to breathe again. "A deal is a deal, and we don't reject anyone's credit."

  Orion nodded, his hand slowly reaching inside his jacket. He withdrew a credstick and held it out to the woman, who approached and plucked it from his hand.

  "Half now, half on the other side," he said, "as agreed. You can check it, if you want."

  "No need," she replied, stowing the credstick in one of the pockets on her belt. "Since I assume you also intend to leave the city at some point, and will need our assistance in doing so. If things aren't in order . . ." she shrugged, leaving the threat unfinished. "This way," she told them. Midnight followed the woman without comment, with Orion and Kellan walking close behind. Kellan became aware of the feeling of being watched, and wondered how many associates the elven woman had close at hand, in case there was trouble. Her eyes swept the trees, but she could see nothing in the dark shadows around them.

  "Who is she?" she whispered to Orion. "A smuggler? Shadowrunner?"

  He shook his head slightly. "Rinelle," he said quietly. "A rebel. The Rinelle ke'Tesrae group sometimes cut deals with the Ancients." Kellan wanted to ask more, but thought better of it while the woman was still leading them.

  She brought them to a spot on the riverbank where a small boat was concealed. When they arrived, a male elf, dressed in the same fashion as the woman, emerged from the shadows and silently began helping remove the camo netting over the small craft, balling it up and stowing it under the bench seats.

  "Get in," the woman said, and the shadowrunners climbed on board. "Stay down and stay quiet," she told them, and she and the man took oars from the bottom of the boat. Kellan could see the craft was fitted with an outboard motor, but they made no move to start it. Instead, they paddled slowly and quietly. Kellan crouched in the seat in the prow of the boat, glancing at the dark waters of the river and the wall looming higher as they approached. They were committed. There was no going back now.

  10

  Lothan closed the book with a sigh after reading the same paragraph for what was probably the tenth time. Though the new text on enchanting he'd acquired was interesting, there were other things occupying his mind, despite his best efforts to banish those thoughts. Lothan closed the book with a sigh after reading the same paragraph for what was probably the tenth time. Though the new text on enchanting he'd acquired was interesting, there were other things occupying his mind, despite his best efforts to banish those thoughts.

  Standards, he chided himself silently, standards. After all, he didn't like it when others paid too much attention to his business, and he tried to offer them the same professional courtesy, so long as it didn't cost him anything, but Kellan . . .

  Lothan snorted quietly in the dimness of his study. Kellan. She was an oddity in his life, to say the least. Lothan had been working in the shadows of Seattle longer than many of his fellow shadowrunners had been alive. He'd earned an enviable reputation as a master of the arcane arts, and also as a shrewd professional, who knew his business and delivered on his promises. He took reasonable pride in that reputation, and made it a point never to let personal feelings interfere with business.

  Kellan was not Lothan's first student. Though she may well be my last, the troll thought soberly. She was certainly not the first young shadowrunner he'd taken under his wing. What was it about her that held his attention so? She was talented, but not the most gifted magician Lothan had ever encountered. She had spirit, an inner drive to succeed, that reminded him of his younger days, even if she was almost completely lacking in the foresight and discretion Lothan cultivated, and had from his earliest days in the business. No, there was something more to Kellan Colt, much as the old mage didn't like to admit it.

  Perhaps it was the mystery surrounding her, a mystery even Kellan didn't understand. She had been told that the amulet she wore came from her mother, about whom she knew very little. It was a unique item of power, unlike anything Lothan had seen before. How did Kellan's mother come to have it, and why did she entrust it to a daughter who didn't even know her?

  Lothan idly flipped through pages of the book, no longer looking at the words and diagrams, lost in thought. The amulet was certainly a curiosity, and he would have wanted to know more about it under any circumstances. But the amulet itself wasn't the real mystery, in his opinion. The thing nagging at his mind wasn't the amulet, it was who was interested in it, and why.

  As a shadowrunner, Lothan was used to doing things without knowing why his employer wanted them done. But he also knew from bitter experience the importance of not running entir
ely blind. He always did his best to maintain a balance between professional discretion and necessary caution, and it was that foresight that had kept him from running into a number of pitfalls over the years.

  Still, he saw no downside to things when Midnight had contacted him years ago and asked him to keep an eye out for a particular objet d'arcane, some trinket she was interested in. He didn't ask why or what it was, since he knew she wouldn't tell him, anyway. Instead, he did as he said he would and kept the item's description in mind in case it should happen to cross his path—which it did the night G-Dogg first brought Kellan to see him.

  The old troll sighed heavily, snapping the book shut. He had misplayed the whole matter with the amulet by not telling Kellan of Midnight's interest sooner. Instead, Midnight had been the one to tell Kellan, and to tell her how she knew Kellan's mother, a shad-owrunner who went by the street name Mustang. Her disclosure made it seem that he, and not Midnight, was keeping things from Kellan—that he, and not Midnight, was untrustworthy, when Lothan knew there had to be some ulterior motive for Midnight's interest—an interest beyond curiosity regarding the fate of a former business associate or her offspring. That was the mystery nagging at Lothan, the question to which he felt he must find the answer. What was Midnight's angle? It wasn't sentiment, he knew that for certain.

  He told himself it was none of his business. Kellan was a big girl and a professional. She chose to work the shadows and she chose her own associates. Lothan was her instructor in the magical arts, not her guru, her mentor, and certainly not her surrogate parent. It wasn't his job to—

  "Oh, fraggit," Lothan sighed. He took his pocket secretary from the pouch on his belt. The fiatscreen sprang to life at his touch.

  "Call Jackie," he told it, and the numbers flashed across the screen as it connected to the local telecom grid address. The waiting light flashed for a moment, then the image on the screen changed to that of a cartoon girl, dark hair held back by a circuit diagram headband, tiny mouth curled up in a smile when she saw him.

  "Hello, Lothan."

  "Jackie, I need you to find some information."

  "Sure thing," she chirped. "Usual rates?"

  "Of course."

  "What do you want to know?"

  "I'd like you to find out more about Toshiro Akimura's recent activities, in particular, his apparent interest in Kellan."

  There was no change in the icon's expression, but Lothan imagined he could hear a note of curiosity in Jackie's voice. "Kellan bring you in on it?" she asked.

  "Of course," he replied, without missing a beat. "She was in need of some guidance."

  The decker nodded. "Well, I told her I would find out more if I could, but Akimura is actually covering his tracks pretty well. I suspect that's why he hired Kellan to delete the information about him in the cyb-erclinic's records."

  Lothan nodded sagely, since Jackie could see him through the comm unit's tiny camera—or by any number of other means, if she chose. "Hmmm, no doubt," he said. "Well, whatever else you can find would be appreciated."

  "Null sheen," she said. "Hey, how's Kellan doing?"

  "Oh, fine," Lothan replied. "She's just a bit concerned. I suspect even she wonders if she might be in over her head."

  Jackie nodded knowingly. "I'll let you know anything I find out."

  "Many thanks," he said, hitting the end button to terminate the call.

  So, Kellan had already gone to Jackie about Akimura. He wondered what Jackie had told her, but he didn't want the decker to know that he was making inquiries without Kellan's knowledge—not just yet, anyway. He had another way of finding out more about Kellan's newly acquired trouble.

  "Call G-Dogg," he told the pocket secretary.

  Portland was nothing like Kellan expected. After everything she'd heard about the fantastic elven nation of Tir Tairngire, an Awakened land of metahu-mans and magic, she'd expected . . . well, she wasn't sure, maybe tall spires, pennant flags snapping in the breeze, enchanted woodland glades, griffins soaring between the towers like you saw on the trid programs like Tales of Atlantis.

  She, Midnight and Orion were blindfolded by their "hosts" after crossing the river. Kellan bristled at the idea, but the Rinelle made it clear that it was the only way they would be escorted through one of the secret passages through the Portland Wall. What followed was a confusing series of twists and turns, such that Kellan wondered if they were being led into a trap. Then they were allowed to remove the blindfolds, and Kellan got her first look at the city the elves called Cara'Sir, the City of Rivers.

  It was so . . . mundane. The city looming up beyond the Portland Wall was little different from Seattle. Sure, the buildings differed, and some of the neon and flatscreen signs Kellan could see were written in graceful elvish runes rather than English, Spanish or Japanese, but the city had the same sorts of roads, the same towers of steel and mirrored glass. Cars moved along those roads instead of horse-drawn carriages, and helicopters and tilt-rotor aircraft buzzed among the buildings rather than proud griffins or mighty dragons. It was a city like any other: big, sprawling, glowing, dark and dirty. Kellan quashed a surge of disappointment.

  "Remember, the same amount when you want to leave," the female Rinelle member said curtly, "assuming you ever do." Then she and the other elf withdrew, leaving the three shadowrunners by themselves in a darkened parking lot.

  "Nice," Kellan muttered, watching them go. When she turned back, Midnight was crouched alongside one of the cars parked in the lot.

  "Keep an eye out," she said, taking some tools from her vest. Kellan and Orion kept watch while she worked, but there was little traffic so early in the morning on the outskirts of the city.

  In a matter of minutes, Midnight disabled the lock on the car door, opened up a panel under the dash and hotwired the ignition system. The hybrid engine hummed to life, and Midnight gave a satisfied smile as she snapped the panel closed and slid into the driver's seat.

  "Let's go," she said, and Kellan and Orion climbed in. Within moments, they were on the road headed toward the heart of the city.

  "We'll need to ditch this when we get into the city proper," Midnight said, keeping her eyes on the road. "I've taken out the transponder, so it'll take the Tir cops a while to locate the car, but it's still a potential liability. Make sure not to touch anything barehanded," she glanced over at Kellan, who jammed her hands in her pockets and slouched in the seat, doing her best to become inconspicuous.

  "Where are we going?" Orion asked from the back seat.

  "Safe house," Midnight explained. "A place I set up for while we're in town. Then we can get to work."

  As they drove through the outskirts of Portland, Kellan watched the buildings, signs and people they passed. They were an odd mixture of the familiar and the exotic. Now that she had time to really take in the details, she saw that Portland was different from the metroplex she knew. Most obviously, there were far more elves than any place Kellan had ever been, other than the few elven neighborhoods of Seattle. Even on the outskirts, closer to the wall, the majority of people she saw were metahumans—dwarfs, orks and even the occasional troll—mixed in with a few humans and the expected elves. The further they went into the city, the more elves she saw, and the fewer of everyone else.

  Kellan was also surprised by the state of some of the buildings they passed. There was one burned-out shell, surrounded by warning signs and yellow tape. She looked at the half-covered remains of a sign near the street, but it was written in elvish.

  "What does it say?" she asked.

  "It was a Peace Force station," Orion answered. "Tir police."

  "What happened?"

  "Probably the Rinelle, a terrorist bombing or protest." When Kellan turned toward Orion with a look of surprise, he shrugged. "The Council of Princes keeps a tight lid on the news from inside the country, but some of it gets out to people in places like Tari-slar. Tir Tairngire has had a lot of political problems lately, and it's not likely to get any better. They might wan
t the rest of the world to think they're one big happy faerieland, but the truth is it's probably only a matter of time before there's a civil war."

  Kellan slumped back into her seat and thought about that as they traveled. Though downtown Portland was even cleaner and more orderly than the business district of Seattle, she thought she could see some of what Orion was talking about. Even in broad daylight, uniformed officers of the Tir Peace Force had an unusually strong presence on the streets. People went from place to place quickly, without lingering, and there was a sense of tension that seemed out of character in the gleaming plazas.

  Midnight found a space along a side street to park the car. Before getting out, she turned to Kellan and Orion.

  "Just act casual, don't make direct eye contact, and let me do the talking," she instructed them. They climbed out of the car and Midnight led the way down the street, cutting through an alley, and then walking a few more blocks. Kellan looked steadfastly straight ahead, working hard to not acknowledge anyone passing them on the street. They stopped in front of a small Thai restaurant on the ground floor of one of a row of converted brownstones. Midnight held open the door and waved them inside before following close behind.

  The inside was cozy, with only a dozen or so small tables set with burning candles. The air was warm and smelled of spices. Only a single table was occupied, and the young elf couple there seemed to take no notice of the newcomers entering the restaurant.

  The elf woman who greeted them had an exotic mix of elven and Asian features, her long, dark hair done up in braids coiled at the nape of her neck, decorated with beads and held in place with lacquered hair ornaments. She wore a colorful sari and moved gracefully as she smiled and bowed slightly upon seeing Midnight.

  "Your reservation is ready," she said quietly, guiding the three of them to the back of the restaurant. They passed the table tucked away there and went through the doors into the kitchen, where the woman turned and brought them up a set of stairs to the second floor. They passed one closed door before the woman stopped at another and opened it.