The Tenth Order (14 page)

“I…look, you’re going to have to slow down a sec. Those guys, the ones fighting like they were out for each other’s balls?” Hunter looked expectantly at Bath, but the small man just watched him. After a moment of silence, once it was clear Bath wasn’t going to answer, Hunter turned to Karen. She had finished weeping, and appeared cool and composed as ever.

“Seraphim,” she said. “Commanders. What you saw is a glimpse of the early years, when there were so many of us we outshone the stars.”

“That’s enough for now,” Bath spoke from his leather couch. “You still haven’t answered my question. What are you? Which order?”
Hunter shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. The only things I remember are snapshots of this…” he grimaced. “War. Jesus, I can’t believe I’m saying that.”

But if Karen was going to reply she was cut off as Bath stood and roughly grabbed her arm. Pulling her hastily to her feet, he yanked open the door and shoved her through.

“Hey!” Hunter yelled, but Bath just gave him a quick, calculating look then followed Karen out the door. The entrance closed behind him with a click, and the lights went out. Hunter rubbed his eyes, trying to adjust, but the darkness was absolute. He was blind.

Standing, he tried to find the door and barked his knee painfully against a chair. He put his hands in front of him, trying to avoid the furniture, but after almost tripping and cracking his head on one of the side tables he decided to wait. Let Bath make the first move.

You’ve got to be kidding
, he thought.
They kidnap me, bring me to a mansion in the back-ass of nowhere, tell me I’m an
angel
, then leave me in the middle of a goddamn power outage?

He was still feeling sorry for himself, when he felt a subtle change in the blackness. The air grew thicker, and a faint whiff of air passed Hunter’s ear. It smelled slightly of onions. Acting on instinct, Hunter dropped his weight to his left foot and swung his arm in a tight, fast arc. A sharp crack sounded as the ridge of his hand met cartilage. The assailant made a choking, mewling cry and his body thumped heavily to the ground.

Hunter wondered momentarily if he’d just broken the windpipe of some poor waiter who’d been stuck in the room with him, but before he could investigate, a heavy weight smashed into his shoulders, driving him to the ground. His breath exploded in a rush, but instead of collapsing to the floor he used the fall to tumble to the side and out of the attacker’s path. Hunter flung out his foot as he rolled to his left, and felt it connect with the victims shin in what he hoped was a bone-breaking snap. Springing to his feet, still trying to catch his breath, Hunter staggered back in the direction he thought was the door. He wasn’t worried about smacking his knees anymore.

With his hands held before him, Hunter almost laughed in delight when he felt the familiar touch of a doorknob. But his victory was short lived as his legs were pulled out beneath him, and he crashed to the ground, smacking his nose on the floor.

The world exploded in pain.

Waves of hot agony roared across his face as he rolled onto his back, trying to draw up his knees and ward off the blows that were thundering down on him. There had to be at least four attackers now, staggering their kicks like the quick raps of a snare drum. Hunter’s mouth filled with the warm, copper taste of blood as a boot ripped his lip, and he gasped when he tried to put weight on his ankle.

For the second time that day he sought the visions he had spent the last two years trying to avoid. As blows rained down Hunter curled tighter, trying with the last of his strength to remember what it was like to dream. Instead of fighting the darkness he embraced it, let it in, tried to forget the tickle of the carpet against his face and the hammer of fists and boots. It was the hardest thing he’d ever done, ignoring the attackers, refusing to fight. Every time he began to clear his mind another blow would drive the wind from him or bring fresh waves of pain from his screaming ankle.

Ignore it
, he told himself.
It’s just pain, you’ll survive. Remember what it felt like to see the sky turn red, to feel the weight of steel in your hand, the screams of the dying in the air.

Hunter opened his eyes and the darkness was gone. In its place was a sickly red haze.

He smiled.

Roaring to his feet, his ankle and nose a distant memory, Hunter scattered the attackers like fallen leaves across the red-skinned room. The darkness had pulled back against the sudden red light, and Hunter could make out the shapes of four large men. Two had been flung far enough that it would take precious seconds for them to make it back to Hunter. The other two, he saw with pleasure, were closer.

He raced to the one on his left in two easy strides, grabbing the struggling man and knocking him unconscious with a blow to the temple. He heard the second man’s shoes rub against the table behind him, and Hunter turned before he had a chance to attack. Grabbing the outstretched attacker’s hand, he crushed it in his fist. The man screamed, cradling his mangled fingers to his chest, and Hunter drove his foot into the man’s solar-plexus, throwing him against the opposite wall. The third and fourth were just as easy.

As he stood over the body of the fourth man, inhaling lightly, it took Hunter a moment before he realized the lights were back on. The room was still bathed in the red tint of Hunter’s vision, but the color was brighter now—the hue of fresh blood.

Hunter blinked in the sudden brightness, and felt his strength ebb away. The red sky faded to sharp white light, and Hunter’s ankle suddenly folded, collapsing beneath him.

“Well, that answered a few questions,” Bath said, entering the room. He was followed closely by Karen and a striking man with dark-brown hair.

Another of them.
Then, with a grimace…
us.

“Let me introduce a colleague of mine,” Bath’s voice drew closer, until he stood above Hunter. “Tarshish, this is Hunter. Hunter, Tarshish.”

“Pleased to meet you,” the stranger said. Hunter grunted distractedly. His ankle felt like it was in a steel-vice.

“Here,” the man knelt down. “Let me help.”

“Don’t…bother…” Hunter forced through grit teeth. “I heal…quickly.”

Tarshish sighed. “Grunts. Nobody wants to sit around for an hour while you moan and groan. So why don’t we, ah, fix this now?” He gripped Hunter’s arm tightly and closed his eyes.

Hunter had given up expecting anything ordinary from these—
angels—
creatures
, but wasn’t prepared for the
nonchalance
of Tarshish’s power. There was no tingle, no pain; Hunter didn’t notice anything other than the slow realization that his ankle no longer hurt. Reaching up, he felt his nose—whole, and in perfect order.

Tarshish opened his eyes. “Better?”

“Uh…yeah. Much. Thank you.”

Tarshish nodded, and helped Hunter to his feet. “You’ll want something to eat. I’d recommend sooner rather than later if you, ah, don’t want to pass out in next ten minutes.” Tarshish grinned at Hunter’s puzzled expression. “Your body did the actual work, I just supplied the direction. Only downside is that you’ve used up every resource at your considerable, ah,
disposal
. Without the proper sustenance your body will decide to get those resources somewhere else, namely—”

“Yeah, I see where you’re going,” Hunter said. “Thanks. Really.” Tarshish nodded, and, with a veiled look from Bath, exited the room.

“He’s one of the best I’ve seen,” Bath said conversationally, sinking back in the couch. “Any other Doc, you would have passed out the moment he touched you.” Bath reached inside his slim jacket and pulled out a phone. Pressing a button he said, “Dinner,” and a second later the door opened and the two bodyguards returned, wheeling a steel cart piled high with fruits and meats.

“Help yourself,” Bath said.

Hunter eyed the food. “How do I know it’s safe?”

“If I wanted you dead I’d kill you myself”

“As opposed to sending someone else to do the job?” Hunter looked pointedly at the unconscious attackers scattered around the room.

Bath’s eyes crinkled in amusement. “You think I sent them to kill you?”

“You have a better explanation?”

“Of course. A test.”

Hunter was skeptical, but his body was already growing heavy with fatigue and he was struggling to keep his eyes open. Another minute and he wouldn’t have the luxury of trading barbs with Bath. Hunter rose and piled a plate with great, dripping slabs of roast beef and a handful of sliced apples. The bodyguards watched, expressions blank, then removed the cart once Hunter’s plate was full. The heavy woman let the boy wheel the cart, staying behind to gather the bodies of the four attackers and drag them out, one at a time.

“Where is she taking them?” Hunter asked around greasy mouthfuls of beef.

“Back to their families,” Karen said, speaking for the first time since returning to the room.

“Families?”

‘They’ve failed,” said Bath. “Their services are no longer required. You on the other hand…” he paused and regarded Hunter. “Your services are something else entirely.”

“Hey, a plate of food isn’t going to make up for sending four people to kill me.”
“I know it’s brutal,” said Karen. “But we’ve been watching you, Hunter. The news reports and the bodies left at the—”

“
Bodies
?”

“The news reports,” Karen continued, “strongly suggest you belong to the order of Powers. That little
demonstration
just confirmed what we already suspected.”

Hunter put down his plate, sated for the moment. “So, you tried to kill me to test some theory of yours?”

“We don’t take chances,” Bath said quietly. “If we do, people die.
Our
people.
We can’t afford that kind of setback.”

Hunter sighed. “Fine, I know you want me to ask. What’s a ‘Power?’”

“Not what.
Who
.”

“The Powers are the sixth order of angels,” Karen said. “Second choir. Agents of martial strength, made to serve as soldiers and protectors of the celestial chorus. Your strength, your ability to heal, your penchant for killing—they all stem from your order.”

“Killing.” Hunter nodded. “You throw that word around like you’re talking about mowing the lawn.
I ended someone’s life last night.
”

“Yes,” Bath leaned forward, eyes blazing. “And you’ll do it again. And again, and
again
if it’s needed. It’s what you are, Hunter. How God designed you.”

“I don’t know any ‘God.’”

“You think I give a damn what you
know
? I care about what you can
do.
” Bath leaned back, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again he was fully composed. “Hunter, you have no idea what a marvelous creature you are. These vestigial pulls of ‘conscience,’” he threw the word with disgust. “Are leftovers of a human heritage that isn’t even yours.”

Hunter was about to spit back an angry retort, but stopped. Was Bath that far off the mark? The years of torment, the constant rejection from those he hoped would be friends or lovers…the visions. Hunter had always wondered if he was broken, if there was a genetic answer for why he felt so alone in the world.

Karen touched Hunter’s hand. “It gets easier with time.”

“Maybe,” Bath said, giving Karen a sharp look. She removed her hand. “All of this has been orchestrated to answer questions,” he continued. “But the biggest question still remains.”

Hunter knew what he was going to ask. “That battle you
showed
me.
You want to know which side I was on. Before…uh…”

“Before you were incarnated,” Karen supplied helpfully.

“Yeah. That.”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” said Bath. “The answer will determine a great many things, not least of which is whether you will become my welcome guest or find yourself at the end of my blade.” Bath’s familiar grin reappeared.

“So how do we do this? You have some tarot cards?”

Bath rolled his eyes. “Amusing. We don’t do anything for now. You go home and wait. In three days the full moon will rise, and then we’ll get our answers.”

“Uh, maybe you forgot,” Hunter said. “But I’m not exactly welcome at home. There’s this
murder
thing.”
Murder…God.

Karen looked at Bath questioningly. He turned his back, not saying a word.

“We’re done here,” she said. “I’ll take you home.”

“Didn’t you hear what I just—”

“Now.” It was not a question. Hunter glanced at Bath, but the small man had already risen and was exiting through a back door. The door swung shut behind him, disappearing into the dark walls.

“You people are something else, you know that?”

Karen smiled faintly. “You’re not the first to point that out.”

The ride home was not that different from the trip to the mansion. By the time they had exited the enormous house the moon had risen high and large in the sky, filling the trees with a bright, ghostly light. The clearing, so peaceful during the day, now seemed as alien as Hunter’s hosts.