Stiletto (63 page)

Possessions had been ditched, shopping bags and satchels dropped. A bicycle lay on the ground, its owner presumably having realized that he could make no headway with it. Felicity leapt over it, and her iron grip on Odette’s wrist meant that
she
had to leap over it as well.

“Come on! Come on!” Clements said, panting, which Odette thought was rich, after the Pawn had made them wait. “Come on!”

The wall of fog was casting a shadow over them. Odette risked a glance over her shoulder and saw that it was barely meters away. It was dense, like a yellow-green ocean wave, and there were vague silhouettes of people falling as it overtook them. The screaming was closer too, hundreds of voices strong, so it seemed like the cloud itself was shrieking.

“Come on!”

Then the fog washed over them, and the sun was cut away.

Well, this isn’t so bad,
thought Felicity, blinking in surprise.
It smells of food. I don’t see what — IT HURTS! IT HURTS!

Every student at the Estate was, in year seven, year nine, and the final year, teargassed. It was part of their standard training, preparation for their roles as bureaucrats and defenders of the supernatural peace. During the course of her training to be in an assault team, Felicity had been sprayed with CS gas, chemical mace, capsicum, and PAVA, as well as with extracts of poison oak, poison ivy, poison sumac, and poisson meunière. She’d been doused with the odorous secretions of the skunk, the sachet kitty, and Pawn Hurlstone from tech support. She’d also, incidentally, been Tasered, lasered, phasered, grenazered, and set on fire (whilst in her armor).

So she was no stranger to pain.

This, however, felt different. This was pain of a different texture, a different
flavor
. It felt as if the fog were seeping into her skin and burning as it went. Her eyes were spikes of fire in her head. Felicity curled into a ball on the street, and the world went away, leaving only the hurt.

“I’m sure it does,” said Odette’s voice from a great distance away. Felicity managed to uncurl herself a little. She squinted up at the Grafter who was bent over her. She hadn’t even realized that she was screaming the words out loud. Then a new surge of pain cut through her, and the world went away again. She was lost, deep in an ocean. All of her barriers were breaking down. Her powers swept out frantically, and she was slapped with the histories of the world around her. Images from the past strobed into her mind.

She saw herself and Odette running, and the fog washing over them.

She saw her legs buckle, sending her flying to the ground, and Odette staggering a few steps after her.

She saw other people collapsing, writhing, their mouths gaping open. She could hear their screams now, distantly.

She saw Odette draw herself up and close her eyes, and when she opened them, they had turned completely black — the irises, the whites, everything replaced with flat black orbs. She seemed to be completely unaffected by the fog. The Grafter stood, surrounded by people curled up on the ground. The expression on her face was unreadable.

Felicity saw a man a few meters away lying flat on his back. As she watched, blood and clear liquid began to leak out of his clenched-shut eyes.

She saw herself, curled up on the ground, pressing her cheek against the concrete, her face covered in a smear of tears and snot. Her lips were pulled back from her teeth, and her jaws were open in a scream.

And then, miraculously, the pain began to ebb away. Not all of it — it was still agony — but she could feel a cool sensation sweeping across her skin,
under
her skin. It let her focus a little, and the years of discipline and practice kicked in. Felicity reeled her senses back into her body. She closed herself off from the people around her, then the pavement, then her clothes.

And now it’s just the worst pain you’ve ever experienced,
she thought. There was no way to stop it, but the Checquy had taught her methods to cope with it, just as they’d taught her how to resist torture. Acknowledge it. Breathe through it. Compartmentalize it. Ignore it. The pain is there, it is happening, but you can put it in the background. Focus on the task at hand.

With an effort, Felicity stopped screaming. Her body was tensed against the burning, but she could think.
This must be because of that stuff the graaf injected into me. It’s counteracting the fog a bit.
She could not open her eyes — the pain and the swelling wouldn’t let her do that — but there were things she
could
do.

She sat up, banging her forehead against Odette Leliefeld’s jaw. The Grafter had been kneeling over her, although, judging from the surprised grunt, Felicity’s head had knocked her off her heels and onto her bottom.

“Leliefeld?” she said tightly, putting out her hand in the direction of the surprised grunt.

“Clements — what’s happened? Are you better?” said Odette’s astounded voice.

“I am a little better, although it still hurts like billy-oh. You?”

“I’m fine. It doesn’t appear to be affecting me.”

I noticed,
Felicity thought. “What is — your eyes?” she managed to say.

“They’re protective lenses,” explained Odette. “They’re normally slotted away in my skull.”

“For this?”

“No, they’re actually for swimming, but I seem to be using them for poisonous fog more and more lately.”

“Oh... good.”

I wonder...
Felicity thought.
Did she know this was coming? Is she with the Antagonists?

“What should we do?” asked Odette.

But then why would she still be here?

“Do you have anything that can help me?” asked Felicity hopefully.

“No, I’m sorry. Marcel is the one with all the chemical glands. I could only kill you. Or make you feel worse.”

“I don’t think that’s possible. Can you give me my phone?” said Felicity. She felt Odette scrabbling in her pocket and then it was pressed awkwardly into her hand. She pressed the button and ordered it to call Rook Thomas.

“Pawn Clements? I got your message. Where are you?”

“Oxford Street.”

“
What?
In that cloud? We’ve got people going in there now. There are reports of screams coming from there.”

“Those are definitely accurate reports,” said Felicity. She briefly held the phone up in the air so the cries of the surrounding injured could be heard. There were distant screams as the fog washed over more people, but around them, there were mainly weak moans and sobbing as the victims lost strength and could only lie curled on the ground.

“Are you all right?” asked the Rook after a moment.

“I’m blind and in some pain,” said Felicity, “but the gift our friend gave me seems to be helping.”

“Where’s Leliefeld?”

“She’s right here with me.”

“Is she all right?”

“She’s a lot better than I am,” said Felicity, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “The fog isn’t affecting her at all.”

“Let me speak to her.” Felicity held the phone out and felt it plucked from her hand.

“Rook Thomas, I have no idea what this product is,” said Odette. “It seems to have lachrymatory and vesicant properties.”

“And it smells of food,” put in Felicity.

“Yeah, like
erwt
— um, I don’t know the word in English. Like legumes,” said Odette. “I don’t know why it isn’t affecting me, although I suppose we can guess. Should we try to administer first aid to the victims?” She paused. “Yes, yes, all right.” She put the phone into Felicity’s hand. “She wants to talk to you.”

“Clements, I’m sending in a helicopter team for you and Odette. Keep your phone on.”

“Uh, Pawn Clements?” said Odette.

“What?”

“Someone is coming,” Odette whispered.

“Did you hear that?” Felicity asked into the phone.

“Yes. Our team isn’t there yet.” Felicity heard an intake of breath come over the line. “Clements, do you have the gun?” She put her hand to her side. The pistol was still there, snug in its shoulder holster.

“Yes.”

There was a pause. Felicity felt Odette’s hand on her shoulder.
Is she reassuring me?
Or is she going to stab me?
She slid her hand into her coat and closed it around the gun. Very slowly, so as not to make a noise, she thumbed off the snap that kept it in place.

“Oh,” breathed Odette softly. “It’s Simon.”

“Who?” demanded Felicity, scrubbing at her eyes in an effort to rub away the burning. She cracked them open, and through her tears and the fog, she could just make out a silhouette walking toward them nonchalantly. It stepped easily over a woman lying in the gutter.

“Simon, my cousin,” said Odette. “He was the one with the sunglasses, the one holding that sleepwalker’s hand.”

“You recognized him?” asked Felicity. She tensed.

“Not till now. He’s wearing a different face, but I just caught his scent.” The Grafter sounded as if she was going to burst into tears. “I can’t believe it. It’s him, it’s really him.”

“And he just happens to be coming directly toward you?” exclaimed the Rook. It was apparent she could hear everything over the phone.

“And he just happens to be coming directly toward us?” exclaimed Felicity with equal incredulity.

“It’s not a coincidence,” said Odette brokenly. “That’s why the cloud started by our hotel. He’s come for me. To take me.” There was a terrible yearning in her voice.

“Pawn Clements,” said Rook Thomas’s voice in Felicity’s ear.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“You have the order. Kill Odette Leliefeld. Now.”

The gun was out. Felicity had dropped the phone and closed her hand over Odette’s. In her mind’s eye, she could see the movement she would make, sweeping the gun up, pulling the Grafter close, and firing three rounds into her skull. Felicity was braced for the reports — she knew they would be deafening. Then, if she had time and could open her eyes to aim, she would empty the clip at the man, Simon. She could see it all as it would unfold.

But she hesitated.

And the chance was lost. There was the sound of swift steps, and the gun was twisted out of her hand. Despite herself, she yelped.

“A gun?” tsked a man’s voice. He had a distinct Dutch accent. “I thought you creatures weren’t allowed firearms.” There was a distant clatter, and Felicity knew he had thrown her pistol away.
Rook Thomas is going to kill me if I lose that gun,
she thought dully, with no expectation of being alive long enough for the Rook to kill her.

“Simon,” said Odette weakly.

“Odette,” said the man, and Felicity could hear the delight in his voice. She struck out blindly in the direction of that delighted voice but hit only empty air. She felt Odette’s hand pulled out of hers and then felt the toe of an expensive Italian shoe hit her cheekbone. Combined with the burning of her eyes and skin, it was too much, and it sent her slumping, dazed, to the ground.

“Simon! No! Don’t kill her!”

“They have you attended by a Gruwel, one with a gun. That gun is not for me.”

“Please.”

“Oh, fine,” said Simon. “Although it offends me on many levels. Not least because you know how I hate leaving behind loose ends.” Felicity heard someone spitting contemptuously but didn’t feel anything hit her. “In fact — my God!”

“What?” asked Odette.

“I’ve seen this Gruwel before. She was one of a team that came and attacked a workshop we’d set up. Set the damn place on fire, and then she and another one vanished into thin air. It was like the universe just sort of folded around them. Horrible.” Then he went on in French, a language that Felicity happened to understand. “But enough about the Gruwel. It is so, so good to see you! We have all missed you terribly. You look nice. I like this suit on you very much.”

“What is that face you’re wearing?”

“It’s a simple dermal veneer,” he said airily. “You just slap it on. I’m currently wearing a utility skin, but I thought since I’m out in public, I should try to blend in a little.”

“Simon, what on earth have you done?”

“Impressive, isn’t it? We have created a real
pea-souper
.” He said the last word in English, in a deeply satisfied tone.

“A pea-souper?” repeated Odette. “Oh, for God’s sake! You made the fog smell like soup?”

“I know, it is a silly pun, but Pim wanted to make it smell like oranges — you remember his ridiculous trademark. We outvoted him, thank God.”

“This isn’t a joke, Simon!” shouted Odette. “Look at all these people! Look what you’ve done!”

“It’s war, Odette,” said Simon. “You know this. And we needed chaos. It is ideal for you to disappear in.”

“You did all this to get me,” said Odette dully.

“Well, we would have done it anyway, but it comes in handy for retrieving you.”

“You are being ridiculous, Simon,” said Odette. “You have to stop this. This is not a war, and...” — she gulped a little — “and I am not coming with you.”

“It
is
a war, Odette. A little war. A guerrilla war. You know how well those work out for everyone. But all it will take to turn it into a big war is the right cut. Like this one.”

“I still cannot believe that you want war between the Broederschap and the Checquy. You are betraying your own family.”

“It is far better than their betrayal of our history —” began Simon hotly, but then he checked himself. “I don’t want to have this argument again, and certainly not here. But that war will happen. It is too late to stop it now, and we cannot leave you to be consumed by it. We made a terrible mistake, Odette, leaving you in that hotel. We should have taken you with us. But now, after this, the Checquy will not let you live. You are coming with me.”

“I will not!”

“My darling cousin, you really will.”

Felicity managed to open her eyes a crack and saw the man, Simon, and Odette facing each other. Simon towered over his cousin, and both had those shining all-black eyes. Suddenly, a long serrated spur slid out of Simon’s wrist, and with dizzying speed, he lashed out and sliced at Odette’s hand. She looked down at it in stupefaction and then back up at him.