The popping and cracking of the shooting range made Laura flinch.
“Terrible, isn’t it?” said Juliana, smiling sympathetically. “I could never stand it myself.”
“Guns aren’t your specialty,” said Lester, as he returned from the check-in desk. “You’re all the running and throwing type. More athletic.”
“You’re just as athletic as we are,” Juliana chuckled. She turned to Laura and Okane to elaborate, “Lester’s Sweeper training was just as rigorous as mine, but he focused more on guns after the apprentice stages. He likes keeping his distance.”
“Clae was the same way,” said Laura.
“Probably for different reasons,” said Lester. He held out what looked like a pair of metallic earmuffs. “Put these on. It’ll help with the noise.”
Hesitantly she set them over her head. Juliana set to work adjusting the settings so it fit snug, and soon all sound was gone. Laura’s ears felt hot against the cloth padding. A buzzing sound echoed in her head, the world so quiet her brain had to imagine noise. This time Juliana twisted a dial on the earpiece. Her mouth moved and Laura simply stared. Two more turns. Juliana spoke again and this time came a faint echo.
“What?” said Laura.
Six turns forward, one turn back, and Juliana said, “How’s this?”
“Muffled,” Laura replied.
Another gunshot came from the range, but this time it was so dull, the sound didn’t hurt her ears at all.
“Wonderful,” said Juliana. She handed Laura a set of goggles, then moved on to fix similar equipment on Okane.
“Usually we’d have to purchase all of our ammunition here at the range, but that wouldn’t work with our equipment, and that’s what we’re trying to drill into you,” said Lester. “Back in Puer, ammunition wasn’t regulated the same way it is here. It was the gun itself that was hard to get hold of.”
“Puer’s might be the better system,” Laura sighed. “Ammunition is limited here, but somehow the mobs come up with more than enough of their own.”
Lester smiled sympathetically. “Nothing’s perfect. I’ve brought the less powerful kin bullets this time, so we don’t end up burning down the building.”
“It’s not like the range can argue about our brands. They make our equipment already,” said Juliana, nodding up at the wall.
The entry room they stood in was wood paneled, the entire wall opposite the desk covered in guns of every type. A bold red sign hung at the top, marked with the same flower logo and the words CHERRY CO. AMICAE-MADE FIREARMS FOR ALL OCCASIONS. Cherry Co. produced Amicae’s Sweeper bullet supply, but Laura had never been under the impression they’d looked favorably on Sweepers.
“Don’t be nervous,” said Juliana, misreading her expression. “I’ll walk you through it all.”
Once equipped with ear protection, the four Sweepers filed through the door to the range proper. The place was huge. A wide section stretched ten feet before being cut off by a waist-height wall, beyond which lay the no-man’s-land, dead-ended with targets. Most targets were basic: a sheet of paper with the outline of a man. At the very end, however, two shooting stalls used very different targets—robots fitted with cloth skin, faces, and clothes painted in a mockery of a person. The nearest one had been graced with a white tie, implying a mobster from the Silver Kings. The doll lurched up and down, stump arms waving as if for mercy while the teenagers at the stall jeered. Juliana stopped short.
“What is that?” she said, voice carefully flat.
“Moving target practice,” Lester answered reluctantly. “It got popular here after that MARU group disbanded. It’s a petty revenge on the mobs, since the city couldn’t enact punishment.”
“It’s teaching them to shoot people,” said Juliana.
“What else do you expect them to shoot, in a city?” said Lester.
“It’s not the target so much as the mentality,” said Juliana. “If it were someone shooting to practice self-defense, or preparing for real danger, I’d have no problem, but look at that. Look at the way that doll’s moving. That’s not a threat, it’s a plea for help. These people are just here to get their kicks murdering something, like a great exercise in destroying their own empathy. That’s the type of person who’d shoot first and leave an innocent person to die.”
“Is it?” said Lester.
Most shots had missed the dancing doll, but one finally hit. A great hole opened in its torso and reddish sand poured out. The teenagers whooped.
“Our stalls are right next to it,” said Lester. “If you want, I’ll go on that side.”
Juliana took one look at Okane’s green-tinged face. “No need to coddle me. I can handle some bloodthirsty boys.”
Lester didn’t look convinced but didn’t argue. They took up their positions in the stalls. While brick dividers hid the neighboring shooters from view, the no-man’s-land had no barrier, and Laura could see the doll floundering, more sand pouring from another hole in its gut.
“I’m sorry,” said Juliana. “Back in Puer the shooting range is a lot more … professional. They’d never allow something in such bad taste.” She looked genuinely upset.
“Don’t worry about it,” said Laura. “We’ve seen a lot of messed-up things these days.”
“Amicae’s out of control, isn’t it?” Juliana murmured.
In Laura’s mind, Clae had been the only thing holding the city together. It was a silly thought—far more than Clae had been lost and tarnished—but if he’d been here he would’ve controlled it. No newspaper could make a fool of him, no Council could’ve ripped him away, and he’d have a plan for post-“enlightenment” Amicae; he’d probably dreamt of that day his whole life. But no, now the city lay in shambles with a stranger at the helm of the Sweepers. She couldn’t wish him back. She’d tried.
“It used to be better,” she said. “Well. Maybe not better, but peaceful.”
Juliana smiled ruefully. “Ignorance is bliss, isn’t it? But you know, that’s what we’re here for. Once we can prove ourselves to the city, to the media, that we’re vigilant and capable, they’ll start to breathe easier. We’re not hobbled like Sinclair was. We can do this.”
Laura’s mouth quirked. “You sound confident.”
“I am. I figure I’ve got a wealth of knowledge and the Sweeper city at my fingertips. Determination can get me anywhere here.” She winked. “And I fully intend to make you my second-in-command.”
On the one hand Laura wanted to say, Of course you will, because she was the obvious choice, the most veteran local Sweeper. On the other hand, the media had been none too pleased with her, and the Council couldn’t have given Juliana any recommendation for it. Juliana could just as easily have named Lester to the position.
“Thank you,” said Laura.
Juliana nodded, pleased. “Sure, you made a mistake and got fired for it. But most mistakes in this line of work get you or someone else killed, and not only did you avoid that, you learned a lesson that’ll stick. I want smarts and guts, and you seem to have a fantastic blend of it. Now! First things first. Have you ever used a gun?”
“No.”
“Show me how you think you should shoot.”
Laura tried to line herself up the way Clae had. It was difficult; most memories seemed tied to running and shooting, and while Clae had frequently managed one-handed shots in all the twisting and pivoting, that couldn’t possibly be good form. The Puer gun felt ridiculously heavy and awkward in her hands, but she held still and tried to relax as Juliana looked her up and down.
“You’re on the right track, but not quite there,” she said, and began adjusting Laura’s position.
Wider stance, unlocked elbows because apparently the recoil was a doozy. As Juliana fussed over hand placement, Laura asked, “You’ve been a Sweeper for twenty years, right? Why did you join?”
“My heart has always belonged to Sweepers,” Juliana chuckled. “Being able to come in and work with magic in its purest form … I’ve never gotten over it. It sings, you know?”
“It does.” Laura had heard kin sing, laugh, and scream. She’d never expected magic to do that before she’d joined the Sweepers, but Juliana probably understood it better than anyone.
“What made you want to leave Puer?” said Laura.
“Ah, that,” said Juliana. “It’s such old news, even the gossips in the Puer guild don’t talk about it.”
Laura raised a brow. “You admit the Puer Sweepers are gossips?”
“You’d have to be an idiot not to notice,” Juliana snickered, but became solemn again. “Two years ago, one of my friends died fighting an infestation. Her name was Eliza. She was a very talented Sweeper, but in this business you can’t just rest on your laurels. Infestations are always learning, and always growing, and this one caught her. I was there, but I didn’t react in time to save her. You know in your head that Sweepers die, but when it’s someone you know personally, it affects you in ways you don’t expect. Lester took it particularly hard. The three of us were close, you see. I worked harder after that, promised myself I’d never let any other friends die, but.” She shrugged. “Passing the place she died, day after day … it wore on me. I needed to get out of there or I’d go crazy.”
Laura could relate to that. Death had felt somehow distant from her until Clae died.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” she said.
“No need to be. I’ve gotten over it.” Juliana stepped back. “So, now that I’ve fixed your stance, how do you feel?”
“Foolish,” Laura admitted.
“Practice makes perfect,” said Juliana. “Now, remember, this bullet leaves the barrel at tremendous speed, and it’s going to exert a lot of force and make a really loud noise. Make sure you’ve got a good grip.”
“I know.”
“Just a reminder. Pull the trigger.”
Laura took a deep breath. She looked down the sight of the gun, down toward the target, and squeezed the trigger with her finger pad. The flash of light from the gun registered first, then the bang, then the fact that said gun seemed determined to launch backward into her face. She managed to keep hold of it but staggered back a step. Juliana stepped with her, arm out as if to save her from swooning.
“There you go! How do you feel?”
“I didn’t expect it to be that strong!” said Laura. How had Clae ever shot one-handed with such backward force?
“Words can’t really describe it,” said Juliana. “But you’re feeling okay?”
“Yeah, I just need a minute.”
“No hurry. You’re actually taking it pretty well. A lot of first-time shooters I’ve seen refuse to pick it up again or actually start crying.”
“I thought this was supposed to be enjoyable. Aren’t there hobbyists?”
“Some people love guns from the start. First reactions aren’t logical, you know? And just because you get scared the first time doesn’t mean you can’t progress to the point you’re comfortable with them.” Still, she gave Laura a conspiratorial wink. “Personally I still hate them, but you don’t want to end up stranded with the one piece of equipment you don’t know how to use.”
Laura nodded but frowned at the target. The bullet had left a dark smear two feet under the place she’d been aiming for.
“Juliana?” Lester leaned around the divide, looking pained. “Could we have them swap guns?”
Juliana cocked her head. “Why?”
“He brought the Amicae gun, and he’s very adamant that we can’t use the bullets I brought.” Lower, he said, “I don’t think he likes me. Perhaps a feminine touch…?”
Juliana frowned at Laura. “Did I spring this on Okane too fast? He doesn’t seem terribly open to team bonding.”
“He has trust issues, and good reason for them,” said Laura. “I could go over and show him what I just learned.”
“That would be the blind leading the blind,” said Juliana. “And I hate to say it, but he can’t just use you as a crutch for the rest of his life. What would happen if you’re not there? I want to make sure he can trust us in an emergency. No, not even an emergency. I want to be able to share his burden. That’s what Sweepers do.”
It made sense, not that Laura wanted to admit it. She stuck behind them as the pair circled to the next stall. Okane looked frazzled, but thankfully his magic hadn’t started acting up. He gave Laura an expression of hopelessness.
“I don’t like it,” he told them all flatly.
“You don’t have to handle them all the time, just know how to use them in a pinch,” said Juliana. “How about you try our gun?”
Laura handed over her gun and took Okane’s instead. The Amicae model was a subtly different shape; while it still felt foreign, it felt a little more right. She held it up to get a better look at the pictographs, and was startled when a hand rested on hers and guided it right back down.
“Rule one of gun safety,” Lester said sharply. “Always consider the gun loaded, and always keep it pointed somewhere safe.”
Laura jumped at his tone. “Right. Sorry.”
Lester sighed and forced himself to relax. “I’ve seen accidents happen, both on and off the shooting range. Let’s not add you to the list of injuries.”
She backed off while the MacDanels concentrated on Okane’s form. In the corner the doll slumped entirely and a buzzer sounded for the end of the session. The teenagers laughed as they toted their rented guns back to the front. Another man stepped in as they left. He looked up and down the range before walking straight to Laura’s stall.
“Excuse me,” she said, annoyed. “That one’s taken.”
He looked at her. There were no words, no scowl, but Laura felt suddenly rooted to the spot. He didn’t look like much—tall, reedy, with unkempt red hair, a gaunt face, and eyes with dark bags under them but bright as if he’d gone days without sleep on sheer mania. He looked like a breeze could blow him over, but those eyes held something deep and dark as pitch. He watched her a moment before smiling, and this was worse than the menacing blankness.
“I can’t say I’ve seen a Sweeper here before. What’s the occasion?”
“Practice,” she forced out.
His eyes dragged from her face to the gun in her hand. “Practicing for Sinclair’s memory, I see.”
Her curiosity piqued. Hesitant, she asked, “Did you know Clae?”
“Know him? My dear, we hated each other. Of course I knew him.” The man pulled out his gun, fit in a dummy round. “It’s a shame he passed. We would’ve made spectacular coworkers, but he never knew when to say yes.”
Now prepared, he raised his weapon. The gun was distinct. She’d seen the model in a hundred mob films, knew its white enamel handle better than she knew Gustave’s Moon. Worse, there was a tattoo on his hand: a savage red dog scrambling from wrist to knuckles, jaw open in a snarl. A Mad Dog.
“I think I see why Clae didn’t like you,” she said evenly.
He pulled the trigger and the paper target tore, directly in the middle of the silhouette’s head. The noise made Laura’s hair stand on end, and as much as she willed herself to calm she couldn’t.
“Guns aren’t so satisfying,” the mobster sighed. “Give me a grenade any day.”
“What do you want?” said Laura.
The mobster looked at her again, grin widening. “How blunt. What makes you think I want something from you?”
“You’re the ones raving about me in the Dead Ringer,” she scoffed. “You don’t really think you can play this off as a coincidence, do you?”
He laughed. “Of course not. But don’t worry, I’m not here to interview you. I just thought I’d check up on a few things. Investigate some rumors.”
He looked to her right, and Laura glanced back. Lester had leaned around the divide to investigate the noise, and the blood drained fast from his face.
“What do you think?” said the mobster. “So much glory in the Sun’s pages, how about you and your sister set up an appointment for our own little highlight? The public would rave over it.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t know who you are or what you want,” said Lester.
“And yet you’re scared.” The mobster looked amused. “What deep, dark secrets are you hiding, MacDanel? The public has a right to know.”
Laura had no idea what was going on or why the Mad Dogs would develop an interest in Lester of all people, but this was her department. Maybe she didn’t have the boss title anymore, but she was fully willing to throw her weight around regardless.
“The MacDanels just got here,” Laura snapped. “They’ve got nothing to do with your mob wars or any of your articles. Leave them alone.”
The mobster’s smile looked positively manic. “If they wanted to stay neutral, they should’ve watched their step for the past few years. Oh, yes, MacDanel, we heard about that.”
Was he talking about Eliza’s death?
“If something happened to them in Puer, that’s none of your business, is it?” said Laura.
“Isn’t it?” said the mobster.
Lester stepped close to him. The Mad Dog stood his ground, expression darkening as if he was ready for a fight. That expression smoothed out as Lester pressed a wad of bills into his hand.
“Please, leave my sister alone.”
“Oh? Is this protection money?” the Mad Dog snickered, flipping through the cash. “Usually there has to be an incident before people think of paying us.”
Oh, hell no. Laura made to step forward, to argue because this was the absolute worst idea she’d ever seen carried out in front of her, but Lester held out an arm to stop her.
“Please,” he said again.
The Mad Dog paused halfway through counting. His eyes remained fixed on the money, but one brow rose. “I knew you were an odd one, MacDanel, but you’re even surprising me.”
“What’s going on?”
Juliana stepped around the divide now too. Her brow furrowed at their expressions, but smoothed out again as she faced the mobster.
“Hello,” she said brightly. “I hope we haven’t disturbed you. I’m the head Sweeper, Juliana MacDanel.”
She held out a hand. For a moment they all stared at her. She wanted to shake his hand? Him, an obvious mobster reeking of danger? Eventually the mobster settled into amusement. He pocketed the money and shook her hand, ignoring Lester’s tenseness.
“A pleasure, Miss MacDanel. I’ve heard of you already.”
“We’ll be making great strides in protecting the city,” said Juliana. “I daresay we won’t even need your mob Sweepers in a year’s time.”
“Hubris,” the mobster chuckled. “Do what you will. We’ll carry your slack as long as we care to.”
“I appreciate your frankness.”
Juliana went on smiling as he put his gun away, and to Laura’s amazement he actually went to leave. He paused in the doorway, looked over his shoulder, and said, “Oh, Head Sweeper? Just a fair warning. Mob factions are at war in this city. Once you pick a side, there’s no switching over. We’re monogamous in that sense.” With that he was gone.
“You just chased off a Mad Dog,” Laura whispered.
Juliana’s cheer buckled, and only worry remained. “He didn’t threaten you at all, did he?”
“No,” said Lester, and he shot Laura a look that pleaded for her to agree.
“No,” she said slowly. “Those parting words were definitely the most foreboding.”
They were on edge afterward, and while Laura finally managed to hit the target, she felt little excitement. To her relief, the buzzers finally rang over their stalls.
“That wasn’t so bad,” said Juliana, seemingly determined to stay positive. “I think you’ve picked up some valuable lessons for the future.”
“Thanks for bringing us here,” said Laura, and Juliana beamed.
They paused in the entryway as Lester conferred with the clerk, and Juliana launched into her training plans. Apparently Puer had entire buildings dedicated to Sweeper training equipment, and she’d been scouting out locations to mimic the exercises. Laura found herself wondering how any Sweeper could possibly keep up with the numerous exercises Juliana listed off and do their job. But Puer had many Sweepers; they probably had a system rotating teams into the field, with others training in the meantime. Amicae barely had enough for one team. There was no way it would work.
“Juliana,” said Lester, and she broke off from her explanation of tumbling lessons. “Someone’s on the phone for you.”
The clerk offered the earpiece. Juliana circled the desk and took it.
“Hello, this is Juliana.” A moment later she brightened. “Oh, yes, the police chief! How can I help you?”
Her brow furrowed deeper as the other person—it had to be Albright—explained the issue. She waved her hand at one point, and Lester pulled a pen and scrap of paper from his pockets. She scribbled something down and promised to be there shortly. Once finished, she hooked up the earpiece and announced, “We have an infestation. Do either of you know where to find Sundown Hill?”
As they were already in the trashier entertainment section of the Fourth Quarter, it wasn’t far to reach Sundown Hill. The “hill” of its name came from the location, set snug around one of the less-frequented ramps from Fourth to Third Quarter with the outer wall of the ramp painted all up the slope like a massive mosaic sun. Fiery paint and broken glass made a luminous halo around the bold red lettering declaring its name, races held, and festivals of general tomfoolery. In the sun’s shadow stretched racetracks, most meant for bicycles or automobiles, but a special one set aside for horses. Wooden stands encircled them, and around these were the Sundown parlors, gambling dens held by the mobs. As a holdover from the MARU incidents, it was owned by the Silver Kings but ran on a strange schedule, rotating to “Blackwater Night” or “Mad Dogs Night,” and each time they gave the namesake mob the lion’s share of the night’s winnings. Mobsters always tried to lure in customers on their particular nights, but somehow it remained peaceful, its business booming. It was one of the few places rival mobsters could meet without bloodshed, and the Silver Kings upheld a strict no-violence policy. Never before had Laura heard of it being swarmed with police, but today it was.
Albright waited for them near the entrance.
“It was a mob hit,” she told them, as soon as they were in earshot.
“How?” said Laura. “This is mob-held territory! Why would they attack themselves?”
“Inter-mob war,” said Albright. “They’ve moved on from focusing entirely on police to menacing each other.”
“What’s the point? And of all places, Sundown Hill?”
“I’m not sure I understand,” said Juliana.
“This is a no-fighting zone,” Laura told her. “Even if two mobs are at odds in other parts of the city, they never bring it here.”
“Does this have anything to do with the attack at our headquarters?” said Juliana.
Albright nodded grimly. “Now that Sinclair Sweepers have stepped into the spotlight, you’ve become a topic in mob politics, and a hotly debated one at that. From what we hear, the two largest voices talking about you are the Silver Kings and Mad Dogs, and they’re forcing all the other mobs to take sides. Silver Kings wants you to be left alone and do your job, but Mad Dogs? We don’t know what they want. Today’s attack is probably meant as a warning to other mobs that there’s no neutrality in this subject.”
“Did the Mad Dogs attack this place, or was it a smaller mob?” said Laura. “Mad Dogs are dramatic, but would they go this far?”
“We don’t know. All they left here are circles,” said Albright.
“Circles?” Juliana echoed.
“Targets,” said Okane. “A fear tactic.”
“The MARU was brought down by circles,” said Albright. “Whatever you do, keep them off your backs.”
“What’s the situation with the monster?” said Juliana.
“It’s in the middle building, the nightclub. The infestation was sighted in the bar area, but we haven’t located its root amulet.”
“Any casualties yet?”
“Yes, but there’s no telling who or how many. The people who’d been there scattered as soon as we showed up, and the few we caught are keeping their mouths shut.”
An impossible headcount.
“Was there anything special about it that we should keep in mind?” said Laura.
“At this point, no. All we know is that the infestation is there. The bartender described it as ‘watery.’”
“Then we’ll get started if you have the perimeter,” said Juliana. She turned to the other Sweepers. “Do we all have the equipment? Guns?”
“Check,” said Lester.
“I, um—Check?” said Okane.
“No?” said Laura.
“This soon after learning how to use one, it’s not a good idea anyway,” said Juliana. “How about Eggs?”
“Check,” Laura said quickly.
“Check,” said Okane.
“Check,” said Lester.
They went through every single item. On the one hand Laura could appreciate being prepared, but she’d checked herself over en route to this place; she knew she had everything she’d ever needed on previous infestations, along with a little blue capsule she simultaneously hoped and dreaded to use. She glanced at the building, hoping the creature inside wasn’t doing too much damage while they were standing around.
“We could stand to have a little more equipment next time, but that’s okay.” Juliana clapped her hands and regained Laura’s attention. “We have enough material and four people. Even if it’s a close fight, we’ll come out on top.”
“Then let’s get started,” said Lester.
Immediately they shifted stance, from tall and easy to crouched and prowling. Strange to show such dedication in broad daylight, but Laura followed their lead.
The building they approached had walls of yellow stucco, patterned just like the outer walls of the Quarters to match the overarching sun. The heavy door opened easily under their touch. Lester peered in, eyes roving around the hallway before nodding his head. At this signal they moved in.
The hallway they strode through was bright with electric lights and spaced all the way down with framed photographs of famous patrons. Laura spotted a few Council members and even Amicae’s famous actor Barnaby Gilda, frozen in black-and-white. She tore her eyes away from Gilda’s smile to look at Okane. Okane was quiet and slow, which she took to be a good thing. There wasn’t nearly enough white showing in his eyes for there to be an incoming monster.
“Thoughts?” she whispered.
Okane opened his mouth to answer but Juliana spoke first: “None yet. With no sound or visuals there’s no way to get a good prediction of its age or strength.”
Okane shrugged. What she said.
Near the end of the hall Lester paused again. It opened into a wide room scattered with tables, with a large stage on the far side. Music stands and instruments had been abandoned in the rush to get out. Food remained on tables, and chairs lay overturned.
“I guess it’s a good thing the infestation chose now to appear,” Juliana murmured. “Lunch at a nightclub is a scant affair, as far as I know.”
“The gambling parlors go all day,” said Laura. “There’s no way it was empty.”
But this room did appear to be vacant of all life, so they passed through it. Another branching hallway led to a second seating area, this one with a grand stone fireplace.
“Are you sensing anything?” Laura whispered to Okane.
“It’s close, but not focused,” he replied. “At least not on us.”
“Maybe we can sneak up on it.”
“Doubtful.”
Juliana shushed them, and Laura snapped her mouth shut. Since they didn’t see a bar in here, they went to the dance room. Nothing big or fancy—few things in this Quarter were—but it looked well-frequented. The scuffed hardwood floor must’ve been there for decades. A few tables ringed the edge of the dance floor, but the most prominent feature was the long wooden bar stretched across one end of the room, polished to perfection. Lester groaned at the sight of it.
“Of all things to sacrifice to an infestation, it has to be a work of art.”
“Better the art than us,” said Juliana. “Any eyes on the infestation?”
None, as far as Laura could see. She looked up just in case, but no telltale trail of black marred the ceiling. In their sudden silence, they heard a crash. A long, drawn-out pause, and it happened again.
“Storage room?” Laura guessed.
“Check around the bar,” said Juliana.
They circled in. Laura pulled out an Egg, hoping the weight in her hand would calm her nerves. All of the Eggs she carried were the Puer variety, with no Clae or Anselm added into the mix. She’d been happy with it before, but now she felt oddly alone, the kin’s color foreign. She felt more like she’d carted around containers of lemonade than weaponized magic.
That’s fine, she told herself. We’ve got two more experienced Sweepers here, and this kin mix is the pride of Terual. We’ll be fine.
Okane reached the edge of the bar. He peeked over the side, studying the taps and glasses, before reaching over. A flick, and one of the glasses fell. The shattering sound split the quiet like a crack of thunder, but worse followed. Thudding and crashing and tearing, and suddenly a portion of the wall broke away as a hidden door smashed off its hinges. More glass shattered in the aftermath, hardly audible as blackness seethed from the door.
It came in a wave, with a sickly pseudo-splashing sound. It cascaded onto the floor, roiled up as it hit the bar, and spattered outward in a poisonous spray.
“Get down!” Juliana shouted.
Laura and Okane lurched out of the way, and the MacDanels opened fire. A single bullet burst in the spray and sent green energy zigzagging amid the droplets, zapping them from existence before hailing down on the beast itself. The infestation swept up again, surged over the top of the bar, and rolled down the other side, heaving all the bar’s contents with it. Bottles, glasses, rags, and a pencil clattered on its back like a turtle’s shell. It flattened to the floor and spread outward. Laura jumped onto one of the tables. The blackness seeped underneath, causing the structure to lurch, and an ugly noise rose from below. Laura slapped her amulet, ordered weightlessness, and jumped. She caught one of the low chandeliers in one hand and swung herself to a further table; the previous one quickly sank, then overturned so the legs bristled like spikes.
What the bullets had done to the spray didn’t work on the main infestation. Juliana and Lester fired shot after shot into the incoming creature, but it barely smoked and it didn’t slow at all. As it came within ten feet of them, they dismissed this method and split.
“Bullets aren’t working!” Juliana called. “We’ll try regular Eggs next!”
Laura rapped her Egg against the amulet on her belt and slung it down into the mess. It flashed and sank with a plop into the darkness near the table legs, then blew. Light burst from the spot. Blackness went flying, singeing into smoke midair. It barely dented the thing. Laura was used to entire swaths of infestation ripped and singed in a single Egg attack, but this didn’t even register as a hiccup. It only affected a patch a foot wide. They might as well be attacking a canal with a stone. The infestation jittered a little, sounding more like inhuman laughter than fright. It plowed faster, toward Okane, and slammed up the wall when he leapt away.
“Egg isn’t working either!” Laura said, panicked. “That should’ve worked! It always works!”
“This creature might be older than you’re used to.”
Juliana armed one of her own Eggs, then lobbed it into the air. This sank into the middle of the mass, blew, and did even less than Laura’s had. That was a bad sign. That was a very, very bad sign.
“No panicking!” Juliana shouted. “We’ll wear it down! Keep hitting it!”
Okane threw an Egg. Lester threw an Egg. Anything they threw did little more than scratch the surface and shatter what glass it clung to. The monster eddied, churning near the center of the room as if waiting for something. The hive mind had probably told it Amicae’s strengths and weaknesses. It operated under the idea that they still had Clae’s level of magic, and waited, sniffing out a trap. Amicae’s forces wouldn’t be this weak. It was sad that the infestation had more faith in them than they did, but Laura took advantage of its stillness to keep throwing Eggs. She’d already thrown three and couldn’t see any damage.
At last, it realized that this was all it would be getting, and it seemed downright delighted. With a shrilling sound, the infestation pulled itself up into a column, twisting and spinning before throwing itself out in a wide wave. The Sweepers scattered, but just because the blackness missed them didn’t mean they went unscathed. The infestation flipped and launched the debris from its back. Okane ducked, and the pencil slammed half its length into the wall where his head had been. The jagged base of a glass caught Lester as he was running, and with a yelp he crashed to the ground.
“Lester!” Juliana cried.
“I’m fine!” he snapped. “Look out before it—”
Juliana ran to his side. Sensing a man down, the infestation swarmed toward him too. She stood firm in front of him, armed another Egg, but it wouldn’t be enough. Not with that magnitude. As the black tide reeled in, Laura jumped back to the floor and dashed for the bar. The source was somewhere back there. From her bag she pulled wire and two Bijou. A flick, and the wire sparked. As soon as the Bijou caught, she lobbed them over the side and went sprinting back the way she’d come.
“Get down!” Okane yelled, and Laura hit the floor without question.
The infestation was a foot from cascading over the MacDanels when the Bijou shrieked. The initial blast rocked the dance floor, smashed the bar apart so wood and metal flew and embedded splinters into the walls. The infestation gave a hideous wail, and it fell apart into ash.
One of the keys to fighting standard infestations was figuring out the location of the source amulet and how the infestation reacted to disguise it. The infestation howling and whirling to take up all the space it could made this difficult, but sometimes it got full of itself and focused too much on a point, leaving its connection to the amulet in full view. This one had stretched thin, lending all its bulk to removing the MacDanels while leaving the trail only inches wide. In this state the Eggs might not have any impact on it, but the Bijou Laura carried were old, and they sang with Anselm’s influence. They had no qualms about shredding this infestation like tissue paper. She hoped they would eat it right down to the roots, but that wasn’t to be. While damaged, the infestation wasn’t dead by any means. It had merely lost a limb. The body resurged from beyond the hidden door, a great cloud of seething, shining awfulness. The Bijou shrieked. The infestation roared. They railed at each other, and heavy smoke billowed around the room.
“Good thinking!” said Juliana.
“I’m not sure how long it’ll last!” Laura replied. “Got any plans to snuff it out?”
“Keep hitting it with whatever does damage.”
She dug in her own bag and pulled out more Bijou. They looked very similar to the kind Laura used, but when thrown they did little more than sparkle; they vanished fast into the black cloud, and the only light visible came from the Amicae variety. Juliana bit back a curse.
“Was our equipment damaged in transport?” said Lester, wincing as he tried to pull himself up.
“It can’t have been,” Juliana snapped, putting an arm under him to help steady his stance. “I was sure to take the ones properly matured. Unless someone specifically tampered with them in the shop … Okane, has there been any sign of a break-in?”
“None,” he said, and quickly ducked.
It wasn’t immediately obvious why he did that, but Laura copied the motion. Seconds later, the infestation lashed out. The Bijou spun through the air like screaming comets, close enough for Laura to feel the heat. One hit the wall and embedded itself, only to shriek and shudder in place. The last zipped past Lester and into the hallway. The infestation bubbled and snapped, spilling out and over the bar again, and Okane aimed the gun at it.
Bang!
This bullet definitely did damage. He’d only hit the edge, but a chunk of the creature two feet across sizzled and crackled to nothing, the edge falling to ash and the main body sparking gold. The infestation squealed. It rolled sideways and slipped off the bar, pooling tight and concentrating its remaining debris to bristle like spines as it tried to figure out what had happened.
“Old bullet?” Laura whispered.
Okane nodded. “Very.”
Juliana had taken advantage of the distraction to heave Lester back into the other room. She came striding back here, reaching for Okane.
“Okane, give me that gun.”
“What?” he spluttered.
“I’ve got better aim than you right now,” she said. “I’ll do the shooting, you go back there and help get Lester to safety. If the infestation decides to expand its territory, he’ll be a sitting duck and I’m not going to risk his life on faith in a flimsy wall. Get him into sunlight and then get back in here.”
“I—But—”
“Are you questioning your head Sweeper?”
In response, he held up the gun and popped open the cylinder. Six spent shells dropped and clattered on the floor.
“I’m out,” he said hopelessly. “I used the others at the range.”
“I’m not,” she snapped. “Hand it over.”
“But Puer’s bullets don’t fit properly! The gun will backfire!”
“Puer’s bullets are the finest stock in all of Terual!”
They didn’t have time to argue over it. The infestation snarled and snapped. It swirled out along the ground, reeled, and rose. Juliana shoved Okane toward the doorway with one hand, the other flying to the sheath on her thigh as she bared her teeth.
“Get out there and help Lester! We’ll hold it back!”
As Okane went, he nearly tripped on a Bijou rolling back in. Juliana yanked a long dagger from its sheath. Laura had never seen a blade imbued with magic before, but knew as it caught the meager light that it had been forged strangely. It had something like the reliable-dog feeling of Laura’s amulets, but faded. Like the negative of a photograph.
“What are you going to do with that?” said Laura.
“Fight, obviously,” said Juliana.
As the infestation whirled toward them, she stepped toward it too. They came to a head in a flash of light. The infestation shrieked. A hazy glow followed the knife’s trail as Juliana slashed again, and more of the infestation billowed into nothingness. Laura armed an Egg and threw it to the other side, hoping to distract the creature while Juliana struck again and again. The action didn’t do much beyond anger it. Howling and twisting, the infestation brandished its table legs and broken glass. Juliana hopped back and in again, far too close, but the knife only had so much reach. While she focused on the mess at eye level, the creature branched left and right, swarming in on her sides. Laura had nothing in hand that could stop it, but one Bijou still spun by the door. She stomped one foot and cried, “Here!”
She gave the amulet’s command at the same time. The Bijou reacted immediately, spouting sparks as it shot straight for her. Juliana and the infestation stood directly in its path. It sped between them, careening through inky darkness. Its sparks caught and multiplied, searing over the creature’s surface. This time its concentration shattered, and the branches dropped into black puddles on the floor. The infestation snarled in frustration and turned to follow the Bijou, slamming one spattering arm after another in its sparking wake. The little bead sped faster than a bird could fly, right past Laura before swooping back to circle her. The infestation careened after it, and Laura threw her last Egg. The grenade’s light fizzled out like a candle on its back.
“This is such bullshit,” said Juliana, coming level with her. “How is it so strong?”
“Amicae’s home to a lot of mavericks,” said Laura, too busy watching their enemy to glance at her. “Look out!”
They ducked again as a black scythe swept overhead. Broken glass and debris chewed up the floor, forming gouges that made the Bijou jump erratically and slow in speed on its orbit. If the terrain got too damaged it could stop moving entirely. Juliana lashed out again with her knife. It did little good. The infestation surged closer, braving the smoke and searing light to grab at her. Juliana pulled back in time, but her weapon wasn’t so lucky. The creature latched on to the blade and yanked it out of her hands. She screamed in frustration.
“Do you have another one?” said Laura, panicked.
“No,” Juliana seethed. “Those blades are rare, it’s a miracle I even had one.”
She stepped back fast as the Bijou hit one of the gouges and veered. With its aim off, the infestation surged in. Laura grabbed Juliana by the shoulders and yanked her away without thinking. Juliana fell with a shriek, but the infestation missed her, and the Bijou righted itself. The blackness churned in a full circle around them. It hummed and clattered on the same frequency as the amulets. The creature was enjoying them now.
Laura wished desperately that Okane would come back and break an escape route for them, but what could he throw that they hadn’t already done? Nothing would work.
“I should’ve known,” Laura hissed.
Clae would never have kept Anselm in the Gin mix if he could survive with regular magic. Puer’s Eggs held nothing but Gin energy, held none of the potency they needed to take down an infestation. They didn’t have anywhere near the supplies or manpower to bring this monster down.
The Bijou was still going strong, but to do any damage it would have to leave them undefended, and even the limited shield it provided left their survival in question. The only thing Laura hadn’t tried was the blue capsule. It had some kind of effect, obviously, but the only time she’d seen it in action visuals hadn’t been clear. Was it worth attempting now? Yes, she decided, as another wave crashed high enough to curl up and cross the ceiling, tearing at the rafters; yes it was. She clacked the capsule against her amulet and threw it upward.
She watched it as if in slow motion. The capsule rose, reached its peak. It dropped, tumbling end over end. Halfway through its fall, the contents flared brighter blue. It changed course in an instant, shrilling sideways, and plunged into the infestation with force enough to leave a smoking hole in its wake. The creature withdrew, seeping and squirming wildly in its confusion. For a split second the tangle of black thrashed everywhere; the next, it had all folded in and vanished from the room.
“What just happened?” said Laura.
“I don’t know,” said Juliana. “What was it that you—”
A catastrophic bang echoed from beyond the door, and the entire building shuddered. The damaged rafters buckled, and down came the ceiling, the roof, in a thunder of wood and brick and shingles. Laura leapt back, and Juliana rolled. It was over in seconds. Soon half the room fell in, nothing but a heap of rubble in its wake. The bar was completely gone under it, no door in sight. Laura stayed frozen, braced for the infestation to lunge again. One second. Two seconds. Three. The dust settled. Slowly, acrid black smoke filtered through the debris. Nothing moved. Laura pulled out a flash pellet. It couldn’t do damage, but it would at least chase anything out of hiding. It landed in the heap and ignited, sending more debris scattering. One of the pieces hit the ground a few feet away, and Laura backed up fast from the smoking shard of blackness. She stepped closer to the flickering piece and realized that part of this material had been stained vivid blue, just like the capsule. The smoke had the telltale stink of a dead infestation, so she felt secure as she knelt down and picked it up. She turned it over in her hands, studying the smooth surface, how only one side was blue and how that sang with warmth and a deadly hum while the rest was smooth stone. Not glass. It wasn’t the capsule at all. It was the root amulet, smashed to bits. She looked up, horrified, at the mess.
What remained of the amulet was somewhere beneath all that rubble, scattered and easily host to new infestations. Where this monster died, she’d just ensured that five more could take its place. The capsule could only be a last-ditch destroyer. She bit her lip, fisted her hand around the shard, and turned back to Juliana.
“The infestation’s destroyed. So is the amulet.”
Juliana had propped herself up, but now the fight went out of her. She pressed her forehead to the ground and exhaled deeply. “Thank god.”
They remained still for a moment, not quite relaxed enough to move on but calming enough to catch their breath.
“Are you okay?” said Laura. “I didn’t really think when I pulled you over. If you got hurt—”
“I’m fine.”
Still, Laura went to help her up. Juliana let her heave her to her feet and blinked dazedly at the wreckage.
“That was … well, I suppose Puer’s further north. Amicae’s brand of infestation would be stronger. Closer to the hive mind.”
“I’m sorry,” said Laura. “I don’t know if it’s the spike or if we’re out of practice, or—It didn’t look like our weapons made any dent in it at all. Usually our Eggs do so much damage, but this time it just shrugged them off.”
“And the weapons were strong when Clae Sinclair was around?”
“Yes.” With Anselm’s influence, but Laura wasn’t going to let his afterlife serve as little better than a potion ingredient. “But it might have been that better hands wielded them. Clae had a lot of experience.”
“Better hands,” Juliana murmured. “And yet, the second-best hands had to save my life.”
Laura bristled. “Helping each other is what we do. You keep saying that’s the Sweeper way.”
“It wasn’t an insult,” Juliana said quickly. “It was just that—” She paused, regarded Laura with a strange, sad solemnity before whispering, “I’m supposed to be the one helping you.”
“You have,” said Laura.
“Not enough.” Juliana turned back to the damage. “Though somehow I’m doubting that tool caused all of this destruction. It’s only supposed to affect amulets.”
She strode for the rubble, and Laura followed half a step behind. She wasn’t familiar enough with building materials to recognize much beyond bricks and shingles and maybe plaster, but Juliana toed through the pile and unearthed something.
“Glass?” Laura wondered. “That’s big, considering the bottles it was carrying around. We broke those down to little pieces.”
“It’s curved,” said Juliana.
She stooped and eased it out. It was indeed curved, long and gentle like an ornamental vase but completely transparent. In the bottommost bend the dust had caked weirdly, half wet and sparkling gold. Laura dipped a finger inside it, tracing a trough in the grime.
“Kin,” she said.
“Yours?” said Juliana.
“No, ours burned on impact. This…” This felt different. Like an off brand of vanilla, technically the same thing but the wrong smell, and the flutter of energy she felt was downright dull—something she doubted was caused by its dusty state. “Someone was storing kin here.”
“Or producing it,” said Juliana.
They kicked aside more and more of the debris, and the theory proved right. Tubing, fasteners, more broken glass and glittering, evaporated remnants caught the light.
“A distillery,” said Juliana. “But why in a gambling den of all places?”
“Where safer for Silver Kings to store it, than the place no one would attack?” said Laura. “Really, no wonder we did damage. We lit an entire vat of kin at once. That should kill any infestation.”
Juliana nodded, but her eyes grew hungry. “Where’s the rest?”
“What?”
“The rest of the components.”
Laura looked over it all, trying to place what she meant, and then realization dawned. “The Gin stones?”
If kin had detonated nearby, the air would be choked with magic and the heavy scent of vanilla. She saw no additional light, and the blast hadn’t been enough to send something as large as Gin careening out of their range. Unless the mobs had only amassed small pieces?
“We should tell the police,” said Laura. “They know who handles cleanup on these cases. They can search for the amulet fragments and the Gin all at once. We’re not exactly equipped for searching right now.”
Juliana didn’t appear pleased with the idea, but a few more kicks at the rubble and she admitted defeat. “We need treatment for Lester anyway.”
“Is he all right? I didn’t get a good look at him.”
“He says he was only grazed. I’m not sure why he’d drop the way he did in that case, but—”
“He likes distance, right?” said Laura. “If you’re used to that, having an infestation get close and personal would be a nasty surprise. Maybe it was shock.”
Juliana’s brow furrowed. “I didn’t think he was still susceptible to that.”
Soon the police entered, and Juliana reported the details of the infestation to Albright. The chief nodded along as another man called for a medic, and yet another man ordered the presence of a cleaning bot. Lester was brought to an ambulance to be treated.
“It’s not bad,” he informed her, even as two medics loaded him on a stretcher. “It wasn’t even that deep a blow. I’ll heal fast.”
Laura would take his word for it. She stood by with Okane near the parlor doors as the cleaning bot finally arrived. It wheeled around the side of the building and set to work pulling apart the debris with its many hands. As Juliana continued to speak with Albright, her eyes remained fixed on the bot’s undulating movements.
“Her intensity is a little creepy,” Laura mumbled.
“She told Albright she wanted to claim this Gin,” said Okane.
Laura almost asked why to the obvious. Any additional Gin in their combination would lend power to their mix, and they’d just shown that their current blend was horrendously weak. If they could get more Gin, she wouldn’t have to think about resorting to using Clae or Anselm.
“Did you sense any Gin around here?” she asked. “When they’re active, I’ve been able to pick up on their presence, but I don’t think I felt or smelled anything like Gin here.”
Okane shrugged. “It may have already been stolen. A mob wouldn’t sacrifice something so valuable if they could help it.”
“An inside job?” Laura guessed.
“Who knows?” Okane pondered a moment, then said, “There might be far more than one amulet delivered to us. From what I understood, mob Sweepers kept their growing infestations in the same areas they stored their Kin.”
Laura’s heart plummeted. “What? Why?”
“Easy containment. A monster won’t come out of its hiding place when a threat is so close. This one, though. It came out anyway. It started breaking glass before we even attacked it.”
“So?”
“So, it directly attacked the Kin machine. The hive mind knows how to sabotage us now.”
It was a chilling thought.
Almost half an hour later, a policeman came up to Albright and saluted.
“Chief, we’ve pulled apart the larger debris. We’ve found no large stones, Gin or otherwise. Evidence of several broken amulets.”
Albright nodded. “Continue with the smaller debris. We can’t afford to let any of those amulet pieces remain unaccounted for.” She glanced at Juliana. “Do try not to blast these apart in the future. Killing one isn’t worth the spread unless it’s easily collected.”
Laura winced. Juliana nodded, but she seemed to have deflated.
“Of course,” she said. “I’ll be sure to speak with my Sweepers about that. Is there anything else that you need from us?”
“Not at the moment. We’ll deliver the amulet pieces to your shop tomorrow.”
“We’ll be sure to store them as soon as possible.”
Juliana turned. Laura and Okane were directly in her line of sight but she didn’t look at them at all, instead making a beeline for the ambulance. It made sense for her to first check on her family, but Laura still felt snubbed.
“I didn’t like the look on her face,” said Okane.
“What look? She didn’t even look at us,” said Laura.
“The face she made at the robot,” said Okane. He pulled the collar of his coat tighter. “She’s scheming something.”
Laura frowned at him. “Is this a feeling, or is it something they’ve specifically done?”
“- - - trust my feelings when it comes to infestations.”
“I trust you in general, I just want to know if there’s something I should be looking out for.”
She still wanted to believe that Juliana was trying to do this all right. She’d resented the idea of a new head Sweeper, sure, but if they could have a comrade supportive and tough as nails, then even if it wasn’t Clae she’d appreciate them. She craned her neck to get a better look at the ambulance. Juliana scolded Lester there. She didn’t look like the sort of person who’d hurt them. Then again, Sullivan didn’t look like the type of man who’d carve money symbols into a child’s skin on superstition.
Please, please be a good person, she thought. I want this to succeed too much for you not to be.