Nemesis: Book Six (11 page)

B
riten should have contacted
her by now.

He hadn't, though. She had heard nothing over the past couple of hours, felt nothing from him, which meant he hadn't touched the strands since they last spoke.

He said he had an idea, but he needed a little more time to make sure it was the right one. Two hours.

"He knows the risks," she whispered.

A world burned behind her, but she had turned away from it. More Bynums arrived almost constantly, though that would stop soon, as her fields froze over and died. No more birth, not for Morena.

She flared her aura into the air high above her head, spreading it out like a flag. She felt the heat from the dying city, rising up even higher than her aura.

Everything is dying
, she thought.

She didn't turn around to look for Junior, only waited on his arrival, her aura the sign that she wanted him. It only took moments, and then her son landed before her—his landing graceful despite the speed he used to get to there.

"Yes, Var?"

She saw his blue eyes alight, the fight running through him as it did the rest of the Bynums behind her. He was so different from her, yet Morena knew he would never betray her. He would die for her if she only asked, even at this very moment if she deemed it necessary.

The light in his eyes right now would never fall over hers, though. Not for what they did now. She did it out of fear, out of a need to frighten others. He did it … for pleasure, at least a part of him.

"There's something wrong, I think," she said. "Back …." She wanted to say home, but was that right? Or did she call it the same as these humans did? "With Briten."

"There's trouble?"

"I think so. Something's not right. I have to go to him."

"Of course," he said. "We'll be fine here."

Morena nodded and turned around. Junior stepped closer, moving to her side.

"They don't care about their people," Morena said.

"What do you mean?"

"Their rulers. Their elite. They hide while we butcher those they're supposed to look after. We can destroy this whole world, burn it all right to the ground, and I'm not sure that they'll care. They may stay hidden, try to build another world wherever they are, only for themselves."

"They don't deserve to live, Var," Junior said.

"Maybe they don't, though it doesn't matter now. Either we or they will live, but not both." She turned her head and looked at Junior. "I want you to find them, their leaders. I want you to find them and kill them."

* * *

T
he world had once been
beautiful.

Helos felt sure about that. If she needed a reminder, she only had to turn around and look at the blue water behind her. The ocean that seemed to stretch forever. Beauty lay there, but not on the other side, not when she looked toward the land.

She floated in the sky, staring down at what might have once been a city. Now the world lay in waste. Was this her daughter? Was this Morena?

But of course she knew the answer. She came because of the answer. Resurrected to see this destroyed planet; how had this happened? How had Morena twisted her upbringing into something this awful? Helos knew Briten, and despite where he came from, she never saw something like this in him. The Makers hadn't shown him either; they only showed Morena.

This was her.

Buildings broken and scattered, unable to tell which wall had stood for which building. She couldn't see bodies, though, because fires raged. She could smell them, however; the stench of burning flesh filled her aura.

Why?

A question she couldn't answer. Not without talking to her daughter.

And what are you going to do when you find her? How do you plan on stopping this? Will you kill her, if that's what it takes? Is that what The Makers sent you here for?

She couldn't do that. She wouldn't. Helos would look at a thousand cities like this and never kill her daughter.

I'll find her. That's what I'll do, and I'll talk to her. I'll show her this isn't what she was meant for. I can do that, at least, if nothing else.

Yet the white aura moving around her said something different. It said she never wore a color like this, and she now wore it for a reason. The Makers' reason, not her own. The aura said that she would need do their bidding, or perhaps something awaited her that she wasn't prepared for. It asked if she dared deny gods? The ones that gave her life again.

And what life is that? If this is what I'm here for.

But the aura had an answer for that, too.

The life they decided for you, Helos.

* * *

M
ichael couldn't stop staring
at his body.

Every time Bryan moved his head, Michael tried to catch a glimpse of it. The thing seemed to be growing even now, right before them all, so fast he could almost witness it.

What he saw wasn't what his father saw. Michael thought that when Wren looked at his son's body, he felt pain at the loss, but an undying hope that something might be salvaged. That's why Wren kept working, kept doing what Will asked. Because the mercenary told him the way to save his son was to save the world first.

That's not what Michael saw though. No undying hope.

Michael understood that hope was long dead, probably rotting in the ground at this point—six feet under without a shovel in sight.

Michael understood he was dead. The creature in the desert couldn't save him, if she was even real. He looked at his corpse right now, and he looked at his corpse through the eyes of his second corpse. Because Bryan was as good as dead, too. Bryan wanted it that way. He wanted to die and that's exactly what he was going to do the moment he had his chance.

He would walk Michael all the way there, too, because nothing else mattered to the guy besides Thera.

Bryan went through the motions now, no gusto, only doing what Will said because he thought it gave him the greatest chance of reaching Thera.

Michael saw resolution when he looked at his former body. Maybe they could win this war with Morena? Most likely not, but maybe they could? So what? His body wouldn't snap back to normal like a rubber band.

Death.

What would it be like? Was it darkness or was there a light somewhere? And what of his dad? What would happen to Wren once he was gone? Nothing good, Michael felt sure of that. When he looked at Wren, he understood the only thing keeping him going, keeping him sober, was Michael.

Michael's death meant his father's death. And that meant the three of them were all dead.

Michael retreated from reality, no longer wanting to see his own body or his father. A wave of sadness rolled over him and he could barely stand it. Because life was shit, wasn't it? He went through his whole goddamn life avoiding that simple fact, throwing it underneath the outer layer of himself that he portrayed to the world. Ignoring it. The only other alternative was suicide, or perhaps murder if you let that anger rise up and direct it toward someone else.

So he hid it.

But he couldn't anymore.

Life was miserable; a never-ending string of disappointments and heartbreaks.

Except never-ending wasn't the right phrase. Life would end soon, for everyone in this room.

* * *

W
ren understood
the gist of the mercenary's plan.

Will.

That was his name. Will, The Man Who Tried to Kill Wren. Perhaps some other time, Wren might have found humor in it. Humor didn't live in this house, though—it was barred from entry.

He didn't know if the plan would work, though based on everything else that happened so far, he had serious doubts. Still, he participated, doing what was asked of him. He would help, and the moment he saw danger for Michael—the
real
Michael inside Bryan-—he would get them to safety.

Safety, Wren? Really?
Linda said, laughing a bit.

And she was right to laugh. Safety didn't live here either; being best friends with humor, neither were allowed in.

Will wanted to kill Morena, the alien. Wren was fine with that. But he wouldn't let it happen until he used her. A plan was crystallizing in his head, one that seemed absolutely insane, but that just meant it fit in with the rest of the shit going on around him.

Bryan let Michael into his mind. Hell, almost everyone Wren met during this damn thing had somehow transferred someone else into them. Wren didn't see someone transferring into Bryan's head as simply possible; it was a certainty.

The alien could do it. The alien could replace Bryan with Michael. He would have a different body, but so what? Life was better than death. Michael had to live. The rest of the world could fall away, every human on Earth collapsing to the ground, but Michael must live. So if Will ended up getting this creature by the balls, then Wren would help him twist the motherfuckers until she gave him what he wanted. Those strands, or whatever else she could use, to give Michael control—to force Bryan out.

He felt Linda wanting to speak up and tell him how awful the plan was. How horrible of a person he was to even consider it, let alone go through with it.

He didn't give a damn. He wasn't even going to let her speak. She wasn't here and Michael was. He wouldn't let his son die and to hell with everything else.

I
want
you to find them and kill them all.

The words echoed through Junior's head.

Morena was right, of course. The leaders of this planet were insects, most likely only understanding reproduction and survival, with no thought to preserving their colony. He didn't know if killing them would stop what was happening back east, but he didn't know if he really cared about that either. Something in their death—these leaders—would bring a great deal of satisfaction to him.

And he wouldn't disobey a directive from his mother.

The war he brought to the west coast wasn't finished, though much of this place called California was little more than rubble. He had pulled back his brethren, stopping their attack. He needed time to think and he couldn't do that while marshaling a war.

Where would they be? Not here. They sent their underlings here, people to die
for
them. Their world was burning and they hid, but
where
?

Junior paced along a lonesome stretch of road. Each time he turned, he saw a city burning in the distance. Fire stretching up to the sky, huge billowing clouds of smoke floating up into the atmosphere. His brethren left him alone, which he wanted, because he couldn't think if they were waiting on direction from him. Still young, with more youth showing up all the time, they weren't ready to make their own decisions—not yet.

Kill them all.

They were causing the death of Bynums. The men that showed up in these cities, wearing green clothing and blasting tiny bits of metal and huge bombs, they caused nothing. They only helped wreck their own cities. The leaders, though? Responsibility lay on them.

Kill them all.

How?

The click in his mind was nearly audible.

The men showing up with their green clothes and primitive weapons. Someone sent them. And those that did the sending? Someone gave them orders, too. Indeed, if the situation was reversed, the humans could follow their leadership path all the way to Morena. It was so simple.

The people the leaders sent to die, they would end up selling out those same leaders. They would end up having the leaders killed.

* * *

J
unior's feet
touched the ground. His aura flared out around him, a shocking and beautiful thing to behold. He went alone, leaving the Bynums behind him, telling them to rest. He wouldn't need them for this.

One thing Junior understood now, and perhaps what Morena grasped, too, as she battled, was that there always seemed to be more cities. Humanity had sprawled out across this planet, occupying almost every imaginable climate and landform. Cities everywhere. Humans everywhere.

Junior went to the next city in their line of destruction, the next one untouched. It looked the same as the last. Buildings, roads, people—all of it the same. Which was what Junior counted on.

He looked at the mass of troops before him. They hadn't run. They had that going for them, these soldiers. They didn't run, no matter how dire the situation. Certain death could look them in the face, and for the most part they stared right back at it. Something else Junior counted on.

Tanks sat in the streets, snipers lined the tops of buildings, and Junior heard the planes soaring above, ready to unleash hell on him.

Junior stood still, not walking forward, letting his aura feel the surroundings. He looked at the individuals before him, the ones he could see. Relief lived on their faces. Relief that only he showed up. Relief that the rest of his crew was somewhere else and it didn't matter where. As long as they weren't here. As long as these humans had just a little more time to live, to make it through this world for one more day.

They fired. Massive rounds exploded from their tanks. Bullets sang through the air, the song one of death. The planes above lowered, firing their own huge bullets at him. His aura didn't flinch as the shrapnel rained down. It met the attack with a smooth force, absorbing everything meant for its master. The humans continued firing, even as they must have realized it would make no difference.

Junior walked forward, explosions all around him, bullets ricocheting off the pavement.

He reached for the closest man, his aura snapping out like a hungry snake, grabbing hold of him before he could run. The aura slung him through the air but didn't let go, only brought him face to face with Junior.

The attack didn't stop, all the bullets and bombs flying toward Junior now flew toward the soldier as well, but Junior's blue aura wrapped around him, keeping him safe.

"Who leads this?" Junior said, the man's face an inch from his own.

He smelled urine as the man's bladder released.

"Who is in charge?" Junior said.

"What?"

Tears sprang into the man's eyes. Junior had seen this before, and though he didn't fully grasp what it meant, he thought the water had something to do with intense fear.

"Your leader. Who is he?" His voice was low, anyone outside of his aura wouldn't have the slightest clue about the conversation going on inside.

"General Buttonheim," the man said, his own voice high and terrified.

"Where is he?"

"I don't know!" the man shrieked.

Junior dropped him, his aura releasing and the man collapsing to the ground, sprawling on his back before he frantically scrambled away.

Junior rose into the air slowly, his aura whipping around him, absorbing and snagging the still falling weapons. He heard the man below scream as one slammed into his leg, obliterating it below the knee. He looked down to see blood and bone scattered on the pavement.

Thirty feet into the air, he stopped his ascent.

His voice boomed, as if he held a megaphone attached to an amplifier. It echoed off the untouched buildings and reverberated through the massive tanks below.

"I am looking for General Buttonheim," he said, repeating the man's name. "If he comes to me, I will let the rest of you live."

The sound of bullets firing slowed as the words registered with his attackers.

"Are you here, General Buttonheim? Do you hear me? All these men survive if you come to me."

The guns ceased firing completely and the tanks silenced their weapons.

Junior hung in the air, waiting, knowing that something was happening as the circling planes no longer dropped their bullets from the sky.

Finally, he saw someone moving below, a man walking through the crowd of soldiers.

Junior's aura swept down and grabbed hold of the general, wrapping itself around his wrists and ankles, then holding him upright, brought him to face Junior.

"General Buttonheim?"

The man's face was pale. He went from walking to flying in only a few seconds, and now he stared into something he didn't know or understand.

He managed to nod.

"Good," Junior said. "Now answer me truthfully."

* * *

W
ill let
everyone else in the room fade to his subconscious. He still needed them, all of them but Rigley, but right now they were a distraction. At this moment, he needed information; everything was nearly in place, but his little group of survivors (
and no other word described these people, did it?
) stood in the dark, not knowing what they faced, or when it would come.

So, Will looked to the creature everyone called Briten.

Morena's husband, now in a teenage boy's mutilated body. Will didn't know anything about him, though he thought he could find out some things if he asked the group. He didn't care. The creature could have been a king or a fucking peasant on whatever planet he came from, Will was going to kill him before this was over. Nothing that came from
his
planet could live, not if humanity was to have a chance.

"You understand what I'm saying?"

His red eyes appeared to see everything.
He doesn't have any pupils. No iris either. That's why
, Will thought, but it didn't dampen the chill moving up his spine. Will had spent the first hour simply focusing on subduing the creature, taking virtually no time to look at him.

Red eyes bulging from an already bulging face. Soon veins would start popping out all over his skin; the skin simply couldn't keep stretching forever. Not at this rate.

After a few seconds, Briten nodded—as much as he could. Will had searched the house high and low, finding every bit of usable rope, string, and tape. The thing's head was free, but the rest of him was wrapped so tight Egyptians would have been proud of Will's work.

"Do you know where she is?"

Briten smiled, his Chiclet sized teeth peering out from behind his massive lips.

"Is that your plan? To torture me for information about Morena?" He laughed, a deep sound coming from overgrown lungs and vocal chords. "There's nothing you can do to me, can even contemplate doing, that would make me say one word about her."

"That's not my plan, you goddamn idiot. My plan is to torture you to get information out of
her
."

Will let the words settle on the creature.

Again, seconds passed as if Briten was tasting the words, each one individually.

"That's it? That's what all this was for? When she gets here, you're not going to have a chance to do anything except die. She's not going to talk with you, or bargain with you. She's going to kill you, all of you. Really, she should have done it the moment the boy left me, but I suppose we were preoccupied."

"Maybe, and maybe she won't. Maybe she'll see what I've got planned for you and it'll change her mind a bit. Now, do you know where she is?"

"Of course."

"Where?"

He laughed again. "What all do you want to know? I'll tell you. Because she's coming, without doubt. She's coming from your west, from the world we've already destroyed. When will she be here, would you like to know that, too? I would imagine soon, because she must know something is wrong by this point."

"How would she know?" Will said. "Are you two connected?"

Briten shook his head slightly from left to right, his red eyes glee filled. "No. Not anymore, not in this body. She knows because she is Morena. She is Var." Briten paused, his eyes narrowing and the glee falling away as he studied Will's face. A few moments later, the happiness burst back into them, and a smile grabbed the thing's broken face. "But you know that don't you? You know what she is, because she's been inside you, the same as that kid back there and the one that I took over. You fear her, don't you? You have no need of me telling you that when she arrives, she's going to end you."

Will said nothing, his lips pressed tight. He didn't know what to say, because all he could do was confirm what the creature knew. He was scared, and just because he could push the fear from his mind for a second, it didn't kill it. When faced with death, every single cell only wanted to live.

"So fucking what," Will said finally. "I'm still fucking here, and I'm still waiting on that bitch to show."

* * *

W
ill had his own weapon
, but that wouldn't be enough for the other two. They needed guns too. He held out some hope that the owner of the house had a gun; they were in the south after all. If the alien somehow crash landed in Chicago, Will would have had to search through the projects to find a weapon as legal ownership was nearly outlawed.