Their new headquarters served as a staging area. The captured Havoc personnel were bound ankle and wrist and mouth, except for three who breathed with difficulty. The trio was warned if they made any sound they would be punished. But the surprise assault left the entire company very subdued.
The headquarters’ three large central chambers became jammed with fifty prone bodies. Logan’s teams shaped them into blocks of ten, with little avenues separating them. Everyone who was not out hunting helped. Groups of ten prisoners had their hands and feet and mouths released. They were taken on breaks, then sent back to the floor. Logan shifted those on guard duty every hour or so.
And still more prisoners kept arriving.
They worked through the day shift, then the night, and another day. Aldwyn held to a standard Cygnean day. Since there was neither day nor season, the shift of hours hardly mattered.
Logan and his teams were both exhausted and too exhilarated to stop. Spotting the Havoc crews proved easier than expected, as they had been chosen with an intention to intimidate. They were big and they swaggered. They moved in twos and threes, dressed in dark shirts with the Havoc knife-slash on their shoulders. People shied away from them, creating tight circles even in the most crowded lanes.
Vance had an idea, swiftly adopted by Nicolette’s teams. When a Havoc crew was identified, the teams’ first task was to locate a private space. A Havoc pair or trio was gripped from the waist up, and air was cut off, which rendered them powerless to struggle. They were walked down the lane or into the empty stall. There they were bound and then shipped back to join their fellows in the holding pen.
Logan jumped back and forth. Wherever the action was fierce, Sidra took him. He said very little to the frontline teams because he did not need to. The squads performed beautifully. He complimented Vance and Nicolette as they continued to sweep up the Havoc forces, and did so on the open comm link.
His teams started showing a new air of confidence. The radio chatter became terse, quick fragments shared by people who trusted one another. Go there. Three in the alley. One caught. Who’s on two and three?
The groups operated in smooth tandem. It was like watching a ballet, only one where the dancers made up the steps as they moved.
Logan wanted to live every moment. See it all. Devour the experience. Because here in the market of a forbidden realm, the hopes he had carried for a lifetime took on physical form.
Gradually word spread among the merchants and the customers and the remaining Havoc militia. A change had come. Something was happening.
Nicolette reported in, “A Havoc crew is holed up in a restaurant. They’ve sent everyone out. Cooks, staff—they’re milling about in the lane.”
Vance said, “They know.”
More likely, Logan thought, they merely suspected. “I’m on my way.”
The restaurant was structured like a street-front café, only here there was no sky to enjoy. The pedestrian traffic had been rendered chaotic by the shop owner and all his staff milling about. Two avenues intersected directly in front of the awning. Chairs littered the eating area, several tables were overturned, and all the customers added their own clamor to the mix.
Logan walked out of the alley where Sidra had brought him. The shops to either side had expanded their trays of merchandise until they blocked his ability to see what was going on. So he stepped over to where Nicolette stood surveying the restaurant.
She greeted him with, “I’ve seen three different faces come and go before the window and the door. The owner there says six of them entered and ordered everyone to leave.”
Vance had arrived by then, and he moved to Logan’s other side. “They’ve probably split their forces, in case we try the rear approach.”
“We don’t have any choice,” Nicolette said. “Going in the front way blows our cover in front of a hundred witnesses. More.”
Logan agreed with both of his officers and was about to give the order for a rear assault, when the Havoc crew proved them all wrong.
Only later did he realize they had been waiting for Logan’s crew to approach. The four of them—the three officers plus Sidra—were completely different from everyone else. They did not mill about. They did not look distressed. They stood calmly and surveyed the scene with a hunter’s eye for the terrain. And the Havoc crew was ready.
The three attackers piled out together, slamming through the restaurant door and spreading out and lifting their guns, so fast that Logan was caught completely by surprise. They held old-fashioned projectile weapons intended to frighten with noise. They fired and moved and fired, emptying their weapons in a matter of seconds. All of them taking aim at Logan, Vance, and Nicolette.
Logan found himself surrounded by a sheet of shimmering air. He watched the shields around Nicolette and Vance vibrate with each bullet, like water struck by stones. Further out, people screamed and fled. By the restaurant, the three stood stock-still, their faces turning red, then blue.
Logan yelled, “Let them breathe!”
Nicolette called, “Teams two and three, take out the remaining three.”
As her forces moved in, Logan turned to where Sidra stood. “You shielded me.”
“All the time,” she replied, and pointed to his officers. “I wasn’t sure I could hold four inside my shield. Now I know.”
Logan said, “I owe you.”
“We all do,” Vance said.
Sidra blushed. “We are drawing a crowd.”
Logan nodded. “It’s time to go.”