Burnout, however, was gone. Lethe wanted to believe that he had influenced the change in the cyberzombie, but he had to admit that Burnout’s change into Billy had occurred when Ryan Mercury had nearly killed them both. Unable to escape. Burnout’s spirit had suffered severe trauma, leaving only the naive Billy.
Lethe liked the change. Billy was young and full of hope. Lethe’s natural state was pure spirit, but he had grown accustomed to inhabiting Billy’s body. It was as though the cyberzombie’s body belonged just as much to Lethe as it did to Billy—a physical manifestation that they shared.
Technicians worked diligently to fix and replace their damaged parts. New skin was being grown and applied; a new articulated arm had been attached to replace the one Ryan Mercury had broken. Burnout’s extendible fingers were replaced, his integrated gyromount. Everything was being made new.
Everything physical that is. The mages couldn’t seem to figure out what had happened to the cyberzombie’s spirit.
Two mages examined him in astral space, scrutinizing his aura, which Lethe had tried to mask to look like a mundane human with lots of cyberware. These were sophisticated mages, however, and they saw through some of Lethe’s masking. He was sure they could tell that Burnout was not a typical cyberzombie.
“What do you make of it, Meyer?” asked one. In astral space, Lethe understood the meaning of their words, though he couldn’t actually hear what they were saying. Billy’s ears had been deactivated.
The one called Meyer was an elf with the aura of a powerful initiate. “It is beyond my experience,” he said. “All the cybermantic magic is fused with his spirit, and . . .” Lethe noticed recognition dawning in the elf. “I think he can see us, Vendic.”
“What?” Vendic said. “That’s impossible. He’s unconscious.”
“I mean astrally.”
Vendic laughed. “You’ve been working too hard, Meyer. Even if he were awake, cyberzombies can’t use magic.”
Meyer glared at Vendic. “Something has happened to this one. I want to—”
“Sir,” said a technician, entering the room. “You have a telecom call.”
Meyer nodded to her. “Thank you. I’ll take it here.” The elf walked over to a device on the wall and touched it.
“Mister Roxborough,” Meyer said. “What can I do for you?”
Lethe couldn’t make out the reply. Being electronic in nature, it did not register in astral space.
“A security breach?” Meyer said. “I was not aware of anything since the Ryan Mercury escape.”
The mage paused while the other spoke.
“Certainly, Mister Roxborough,” Meyer said with a heavy sigh. “I will check the datastore immediately, but I don’t see how it could have been wiped. The spirit-transfer material was protected by the best ice we have.”
Pause. Meyer shook his head in irritation, but his voice gave nothing away.
“Of course I know about Reise’s transfer, sir. You authorized it yourself. Frankly, I thought it a bit rash. She is the only scientist who can perform the viral memory reconstruction. It’ll take years to replace her. I—”
Meyer was interrupted. He stood rigid, anger building inside him, though Lethe saw a hint of amusement there as well.
“No, sir, I don’t know any Alice. I’m afraid I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”
Lethe tried to use Billy’s ears to hear what Roxborough was saying, but he failed. Even Billy’s connection to his senses seemed to be severed.
“Yes, Mister Roxborough,” Meyer said. “I will begin an investigation, and I am sorry about what you have gone through, but there is a more immediate problem concerning the recovered cyberzombie, Burnout.”
Pause.
“Yes, the techs have repaired the damage done to him.
Physically he’s like new, perhaps better than before, but he’s
been through something. His aura is disturbingly human, too much so for a cyberzombie. He’s not exhibiting the polluting effects normally associated with cybermancy.”
Meyer listened.
“I suppose it’s good, but I don’t have an explanation for it yet. I don’t like it when I can’t explain what’s happening. Makes me nervous.”
Pause.
“I don’t know how much time. Perhaps a day, perhaps a—”
Interruption. Meyer waited, listening carefully. Then, “Very well. I will travel to San Marcos with the cyberzombie. I’ve always wanted to meet the mysterious Señor Oscuro. We’ll figure this out together.” He punched the Disconnect.
Lethe watched Meyer turn and look at him, scrutinizing his aura. “I know you’re watching,” he said. “But soon, with Darke’s help, I will dissect you. Carve you up astrally until I’ve got you under control again.”
Lethe said nothing, merely watched the mage intently, and hoped that Billy would soon awaken. He missed Billy. For the first time in as long as he could remember, Lethe felt very, very much alone.
Ryan stood on the tarmac of the small airfield where they had landed, just outside Marseilles. He smelled the clean salt Mediterranean air, and leaned against the open door of the rented helicopter, double-checking his gear. His cobalt blue Draco Foundation uniform with its integrated body armor fit him snugly, though it was a little hot in the summer sun. His bandoleer of narcotic darts and his two guns rested in their proper positions. The Dragon Heart was nestled snugly in its sash.
He was as ready as he could be.
Jane’s voice sounded in Ryan’s ear piece. “Axler and Grind have made excellent progress with the scuba sleds. They’re five minutes from the island. No problems so far.”
“Copy, Jane,” Ryan subvocalized into his tacticom mic. He climbed into the copilot’s seat and strapped himself in. The Hughes Aerospace Airstar 2057 chopper was brand-new and in excellent condition, but it was more of a commuter vehicle for corporate executives than an attack copter.
Ryan looked back to make sure Talon was ready, then he glanced at Dhin in the pilot’s seat. “Take us up,” he said.
The whine of the rotors grew in pitch as the helo took flight, and soon they were skimming out across the blue Mediterranean, heading for the small prison island. Chateau d'If loomed up before them like an ancient Alcatraz. A castle of old, brown masonry rising directly from the surf.
Ryan saw the image waver as though he was seeing it through a heat haze. “I guess that’s the permanent shimmer Jane was talking about,” he said. “Talon, what do you make of it?”
Talon pushed his head up into the front. “There’s a magic barrier of some sort surrounding the island,” he said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Ryan shifted his perception to the astral, and looked at the island. He could make out a translucent haze dome around the chateau. “It looks somewhat like the veil around Tír na nÓg,” he said. “We’re expected. We should be able to pass through.”
Talon gave him a doubting look.
“You hope,” he said
.
“You disagree?”
“I just don’t share your level of confidence.”
Dhin gave a harsh laugh. “Well, chummers, either way, we’re almost to the island.”
Ryan felt a slight lurch as they passed through the astral barrier and swung up over the rim of the island’s wall. He surveyed the structure as Dhin brought the chopper into a low hover, preparing to drop onto the wide flagstone piazza. Ryan saw the narrow wooden dock, jutting like a toothpick from the far edge of the island. The sleek form of a yacht was moored to it—a Harland and Wolff Classique, very expensive and luxurious.
Axler and Grind would be under the dock by now, waiting to disable the boat in case Plan Beta was activated. Ryan touched the Dragon Heart at his waist and hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
As the helo’s runners touched the flagstones, Ryan saw a woman in a summer dress of mauve cotton. She stood quite tall for a human, with flowing white hair that cascaded down her back.
Ryan gave her aura a once-over as he stepped out of the helicopter with Talon just behind.
She’s not a human,
he realized,
but an elf, and more than likely a mage.
She was masking her aura, but with the help of the Dragon Heart, Ryan could see through it.
She stepped up to meet them, extending her hand. “My name’s Jane Foster,” she said, yelling above the scream of the blades.
Ryan noticed an ornate ring on her finger, platinum in the shape of a coiled dragon. “I’m Ryan Mercury,” he said, shaking her hand. “And this is Nolan Falcor.” Ryan motioned toward Talon. “We’ve brought the package from the Draco Foundation.”
Foster nodded. “Please tell your pilot to shut down and step out of the helicopter.”
At the command, Ryan’s awareness grew hypersensitive as he turned and signaled to Dhin. He subvocalized, “Cut the engines and show your handsome face to the lady.” When Dhin was out of the helicopter, Foster gave Ryan a smile. “Thank you, Mister Mercury. Now if you’ll show me the suit of armor and your authentication papers.”
“Certainly,” Ryan said. “Is Mister Harlequin here? He has to sign the papers.”
Foster threw her head back in laughter.
“Mister
Harlequin,” she said. “That’s a good one.”
Ryan opened the side door of the helicopter to reveal the three wooden crates that held the suit of armor. Then he pulled a suitcase from under one of the seats. “Regardless of what he likes to be called, I need a signature.”
“I can sign,” said Foster.
“I’m afraid not.”
Foster gave Ryan an icy stare. “Harlequin will not want to be disturbed with this,” she said. “I will sign for him.”
“That’s simply not acceptable. Besides, I have other business with him.”
“Concerning what?”
“It’s a private matter.”
Foster froze him with that stare again. “Just who do you think you are, Mister Mercury?” Then she was stepping away from him and examining his aura, no doubt trying to figure out what his abilities were. He had masked the Dragon Heart, but he wasn’t sure if it could hold up under scrutiny.
“I am perhaps more than I appear to be,” he said. “But my mission here is simple. I agreed to deliver the armor to the elf mage, Harlequin, as per Nadja Daviar’s instructions. Plus I have another errand, given to me by Dunkelzahn, but I can speak of it only with Harlequin.”
Foster backed away until she reached the narrow archway that led to the main castle. Her face was a mask of anger. “Harlequin was not expecting you,” she said. “I shall have to prepare—”
Talon’s shout seemed to come from far away. “She’s casting!”
Ryan yawned suddenly, and watched as Dhin and Talon dropped to the ground next to him. Sleep and fatigue clawed at his consciousness, desperate to drag him under.
In his disorientation, a force slammed into him—a mana bolt that stung through his body. The impact snapped him out of the effects of the sleep spell.
Ryan’s awareness returned, and he focused on his magic. He felt the power of the Silent Way come to him and his outline blurred. He masked his physical appearance, using his stealth magic to become harder to see as he bolted toward Foster. He crossed the distance between them in seconds, taking the elf by surprise. He brought the power of the Dragon Heart to bear and hit her with a telekinetic strike, right in the chest.
The blow never hit, impacting instead on her magical barrier and dissipating. But it disrupted the barrier; the next strike would land home without interference. Ryan didn’t think that he’d need another distance strike; he was already on top of her.
A spirit manifested in front of him as he sprang toward Foster, ready to hit. that cluster of nerves that would drop her into unconsciousness. The spirit burned itself into existence, a molten shape, like living lava, burning with incredible heat that seared Ryan’s flesh.
Frag me!
“Be gone, elemental!” Ryan yelled, channeling his vehemence toward the spirit. At the same time, he pummeled the creature with his fists. It slotted him off that he was giving Foster more time to cast another spell.
Suddenly the spirit was gone, disrupted from the impact of his attacks, and Ryan stood face to face with Foster. Tiny droplets of sweat prickled on her immaculate forehead, but she seemed frozen. Her mouth set in an unmoving scowl.
Ryan tried to lunge for her; he wanted to complete his nerve cluster strike before she could get her spell off. But his legs wouldn’t respond, and a heavy weight grew in his chest as he tried to move. He, too, was frozen.
“Children, children,” came a voice. “You will kiss and make up, or I will be forced to punish you.”
Suddenly the pressure abated and Ryan fell to his knees, gasping for air. He was marginally satisfied to discover that Foster was in the same condition. He focused himself quickly and leaped to his feet.
The elf walking toward him could be none other than Harlequin. Despite the heat, he was dressed all in black—jeans and leather jacket. His auburn hair was nearly the same color as Ryan’s, though the elf’s was much longer and pulled back against his head in a ponytail. His face was painted clown white with red diamonds over both eyes, which themselves sparkled green in the sunlight.
In the astral, Harlequin’s aura was unmasked and frightening.
What have I gotten myself into?
Ryan thought.
This elf’s power is immense.