I’ve been posting very sporadically, I know. And that will probably continue. I have too many things to write now that I’m feeling better and writing again.
I’m going to add a new feature to the blog though, probably as a new page in the side bar, which will list out what I have planned. I’ll cross things off the list as I finish them (probably with a strike-through). These are novels, stories, or novellas that I have outlines and/or cover art for already.
Right now the list looks like this:
Under Fountain (GPC #4)
Dead of Knight (GPC #5)
A Cold and Silent Dawn (GPC #6)
The Gryphonpike Companions (GPC #7)
A Debt of Sorcery (GPC #8)
Shelter from the Storm (GPC #9)
To Steal the Crown (GPC #10)
Casimir Hypogean (Lorian Archives #1)
Beyond Casimir (Lorian Archives #2)
Casimir Rising (Lorian Archives #3)
The Raven King (Chwedl Duology Book 2)
Avarice (Pyrrh Considerable Crimes Division #1)
Wrath (Pyrrh Considerable Crimes Division #2)
Hunger (Pyrrh Considerable Crimes Division #3)
Vainglory (Pyrrh Considerable Crimes Division #4)
Fresh Blood (The Hidden War #1)
Pure Blood (The Hidden War #2)
Ancient Blood (The Hidden War #3)
Heart’s Blood (The Hidden War #4)
The City is Still Hungry (Remy Pigeon #1)
Slow Beat Down (Remy Pigeon #2)
Unnamed Steampunk/Circus novella (have cover art)
12-17 Fantasy/SF stories (have cover art for awesome collection and 3 stories already for it)
That’s the “hopefully in the next year and a half or so” list of things to write. See why I’m busy? and that’s just under this pen name. I have other projects under three other names on my list here at home.
Meanwhile, I’ll be at Worldcon this weekend. I’m easy to spot, what with the blue/purple mohawk and all, so if you are there, come say hi or track me down after one of my panels.
“You wanna cup of soup or anything?” Dan Garner asked his coworkers in the Kajipe power hub. He was already pulling on his coat over his broad shoulders and bored to tears facing another twelve hour shift. He sure in hells wasn’t planning on doing it while hungry.
“We aren’t supposed to leave, numbnuts.” Bennett Combs was his fellow guard, a middle-aged, slightly overweight man with a weak chin and reedy voice. In Dan’s opinion, the chin matched Combs’s personality.
“Sure, I’ll have soup if they got any.” Alim, the stocky, snub-nosed tech, didn’t even glance up from his datapad. He was watching something, though the Wires were restricted in here. But he was an egg-head, so Dan figured he’d found a work-around.
“I’m hungry,” Dan said to Combs, “My lunch is meager as shit since Kira’s mad again, and I’m gonna grab something before curfew closes everything down.” He glared at Combs, though it was mostly for show. The guy didn’t have enough spine to report him and Dan had seniority anyway.
“Fine, get me something crunchy and maybe some fresh tea? Stuff they got in the back is crap. Should be enough on that.” Combs dug out a plastic WIC card, handed it over to Dan, and then slumped in his chair. The position did unflattering things to his already puffy gut.
Dan hid his grin and punched the open button for the door. It slid back and he looked down at a slender woman with crazy black and white face paint who was kneeling on the floor. She had an electro pistol in one gloved hand, pointed right at him, ready to spit paralyzing current.
For the space of a shaky breath he just stood there, staring at her. Her eyes were brown, flecked with purple and strangely hypnotic. He tried to cue up the PUDI, get a call out, but it felt like static in his head. Jammer. There had to be a jammer nearby. He felt as though the world had slowed down, as though this was something happening to someone else and he were stuck watching.
“Yo, Danny, that door’ll close on you.” Combs couldn’t see around him, Dan realized, but his voice broke the freeze and time sped back up again. Dan started to reach for his gun, fumbling with the safety snaps.
A shadow to the side of the door resolved itself into man, who stepped up behind the kneeling woman. His hair was short and silvered with age, but the man’s body was still thick with muscle and his dark face was painted in the same terrifying black and white patterns.
“Don’t be a hero,” the man said in a gravelly voice.
“The hell? What’s going. . .” Combs squawked from behind Dan but was cut off by Dan’s sharp gesture.
He backed up slowly and the man and woman followed him, letting the door slide shut behind them. “What do you want?” Dan managed to croak out.
“For us all to sit tight here,” the man replied. “You,” he said to Alim, who was half-rising from his seat and reaching for the console controls, “sit back down.”
The woman didn’t speak. She pulled out a handful of plastic twine from a cloth bag at her waist and started tying Alim to his chair while the man motioned Combs and Dan back against the wall.
“What’re your names?” he asked them.
“Daniel, uh, Dan Garner,” Dan said.
“Shut up, man,” Combs hissed at him.
“They don’t want to hurt us,” Dan said, putting emphasis on it. He prayed it was true. Names helped, right? Personalized you to the attacker. He couldn’t remember what they’d told him in training. All he could think about was Kira’s puffy face and how dying on the job would just make her angrier. She’d probably yell at his corpse and then go shopping with her lazy daughter. Dan quickly shoved those thoughts away.
“That’s right, Dan. We don’t want to hurt anyone.” The man smiled and his teeth looked like fine polished bone.
The woman, who still hadn’t spoken, removed their guns and turned first Combs, then Dan gently around, tying their hands behind them and then easing them into sitting positions and tying their feet. Combs grumbled and started to resist her, but she jammed her thumb into his throat.
Dan didn’t resist at all, he couldn’t give Kira and his step-daughter the satisfaction. Her gloved hands were strong on his shoulders as she helped him sit and he caught the scent of something sweet and almost flowery underneath the stronger smell of the paint on her face. When she turned away he had to stifle a little gasp.
She didn’t have the x-shaped scar or small interface jack in her neck. A woman without a PUDI? Everyone got them when they were five. People turning criminal, sure, he knew about that. Living below the grid and all. But to start that young? Dan shuddered, more worried now about who these people could be.
Dan still couldn’t figure what they wanted, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it but memorize every detail of these people and hope to get out alive to report later. With him and the other two secure, the invaders seemed to relax and do nothing. The woman fiddled with the control console a little, but seemed satisfied to mostly stare off into space. Like they were waiting for something. Or some appointed time. Dan shivered, testing the bindings. Tight. He forced himself to take deep breaths and wait. They couldn’t remain here forever.
The worst part of it was, he was still damn hungry. Dan swallowed hard and prepared for a miserable night.
* * *
Hex and Sif found the door they wanted. It was a reinforced steel door, built to nominally fit in with the rest of the doors in the hallway, but any close inspection revealed it had been replaced long after this building was constructed. There was a keypad inside a plexi box with a slider for a magnetic keycard on the side.
“We need a keycard,” Hex told Ryg over his PUDI.
“Sif has it,” Ryg responded.
Sif was already stepping up to the door, a thin piece of plastic in her hand. She swiped it and waited. Nothing happened. In Hex’s head he heard the muttered string of curses from Ryg, who’d left the communication channel open.
“Give me a moment to think,” Ryg added.
Sif shrugged and pulled out a knife, looking at Hex with a raised eyebrow.
“Alarms?” he asked her over sub-vocals.
In answer she jammed the tip of the blade under the edge of the plexi box and used her superior strength to jimmy it open. The plexi cracked and then broke open.
“Sif! Damnit.” Ryg started another string of curses. “We’re trying to leave minimal trace.”
Hex shook his head and kept an eye on the hallway. No audible alarms were going off yet and no security drones came buzzing out.
“Fine. Here, use this code,” Ryg again.
Sif punched in the code as he fed it to her PUDI. This one worked and the door slid open. Quickly the two of them ducked inside.
“I thought this was supposed to be an auxiliary office. Administrative and such?” Hex said, looking around.
There wasn’t any furniture in the room. It was a large space, as though walls had been removed to combine offices and Hex found where a second door had been cemented over. Against the far wall was a bank of servers, humming away in the near darkness. They stretched from floor to ceiling and had a thick rope of wires patching them into a gaping hole in the far wall.
“This is, different, than I expected,” Ryg muttered, seeing the room through Sif’s forehead camera. “When I found the leak, I thought. . .” he stopped himself, as if realizing what he was saying.
“What leak?” Sif’s voice was deceptively soft over the PUDI. Hex read suspicion in her face that was reflected in his own.
“What are we doing here, Ryg?” he added.
“I’ll tell you later,” Ryg said, sounding resigned. “Just stick the chip in and get the programs running. We’re on a timer here with those patrol drones.”
“Later,” Sif said, making the word a promise.
Hex pulled the chip with the programs on it out of his jacket pocket and found a port on one of the servers. He slotted it in.
“Good?” he asked Ryg.
“Yes, I’m in, just. . .” Static cut Ryg off.
“Ryg? Hey?” Hex tried to re-establish the connection and met the hard silence of a jammed signal. Not good.
Sif met his eye and they melted into the shadows of the room, taking cover behind the server banks as red lights came on and the air filled with the whirring noise of Hunter-killer drones. Nasty little things, Hunter-killers were fist-sized and carried three lethal darts each. Whoever had set up the security here wasn’t messing around.
Hex slid his gun out of its holster as quietly as he could and took a deep breath. No job ever went perfect. If he got out of this alive, he and Ryg were going to have a very, very interesting chat.
Sif muttered a garbled protest as Hex rose with the daylight. He’d only had a few hours of sleep and his body ached as though he’d taken a beating. He smiled down at his sleeping lover. She had one slim arm thrown over her head, with the other pale hand tucked under her chin. Her hair, like fine gold thread, had escaped its braid and blanketed her narrow shoulders. Relaxed with sleep; her normally defined muscles hid beneath unblemished skin.
Hex thought she looked at her most inhuman when she slept, less like a child than a doll. Every feature symmetrical, the coloring of her mouth, cheeks, and even her lashes were more like painted details than living flesh.
Hex carried his clothing into the main room and dressed quickly. He selected seven of the condensed food bars they’d appropriated the night before and tucked them into the pockets of his long brown coat. More grateful for stairs then he’d been in a long time; Hex navigated the twisting corridors of the building and descended slowly to street level. It was still raining, a slow lazy drizzle.
Though curfew ended with dawn, there were very few people moving along Casimir’s winding Main Street. Later, the streets would fill with bicycle traffic and throngs of bodies moving between underground stations. Ijipe’s lower levels held many small home shops and markets. It was possible to find almost anything one needed in the little registered or illegal shops tucked between the alleyways and building entries. A warren of commerce slept as Hex moved up the glowing road towards the edge of Ijipe housing district.
Sore as he was, he still opted to walk. The light rain cleared his head even as it matted his curls to his face and neck. Hex left his hood down. The food was safe enough inside his waterproof coat and the plastic packaging.
The solid walls of building shadowed his walk, the ubiquitous crowns, bells, and wings of traditional Casimir decoration casting odd shadows down on the rain-dark concrete. Here and there in the morning mist lights within windows glinted. The fiber-optics embedded into the streets lit the morning purple, green, and red.
A few hundred steps down the road, just as the buildings started to twist again in another curve of the giant spiral that was Casimir, Hex found the alley he was looking for. The alley was dimly lit by pale strands of fiber-optic light tucked into the edges. Debris and a dark plastic bench blocked some of the light rising up from the ground. Hex moved carefully down the alley until he came to a narrow stair leading upward into the buildings.
Hex climbed until his legs hurt. He bypassed one hallway entrance after another. Finally worn green paint in twisting designs greeted his eyes. He turned from the stair and stepped down the hallway. At the fifth door he hesitated. With a deep breath, Hex knocked.
A small, dark and wrinkled woman opened the door just enough to see him. He heard a chain being withdrawn and then the door opened fully.
“What do you want, Hex?” Jaline said.
“I’ve brought food for the kids,” Hex said, pulling the food bricks out of his pockets.
“They’re asleep. Come put it over here.” She moved aside, allowing him into the small room. This apartment was laid out much like Hex’s own. He walked to the kitchen, noticing the large crayons aligned neatly on the low table. He stacked the food on the counter and turned back to Jaline.
“Thank you. Is that all?” She said the last more as expectation than question.
“Daddy?” A soft voice asked from behind one of the curtains leading to the sleeping rooms.
“Nadia, hi.” Hex bent and held his arms out to his youngest child. She emerged from behind the cloth and ran the few steps to him. Her body was so thin and her heart beat so fast, more like a bird’s than a girl’s.
He carefully clutched the fragile four-year old in a hug and looked up at her grandmother. Jaline is nothing like her daughter was. Her daughter, the mother of Hex’s two children, had been so carefree and full of life. Her mother was a bitter creature that the world had long since sucked dry of all joy.
“Nadia, you should be in bed.” Jaline stepped forward as if to take the child.
Hex shook his head. “Nadia, I brought food for you all and Granma is going to make you a huge breakfast.” He let his face go hard as he stared Jaline down.
Nadia looked up at him with large purple eyes and her mother’s narrow chin. Her mother had been a Drift addict when she was pregnant and the drug’s mark was forever imprinted on his child.
“I don’t get breakfast, Daddy.”
“Don’t be silly, child,” Jaline said, her voice high with a panicked note. “Of course you get breakfast. Granma is going to do just as your daddy says.” She tore the child from his hands and set her down on the counter. “Hex,” she said, “it’s just that she isn’t registered, so of course it’s harder to get her rations. We have to pay attention to those things in this house. You see.”
“Of course,” Hex murmured. He wished suddenly that he hadn’t come. “Say hello to Eddy for me when he gets up. I’ve got to go.”
“Have a good day,” Jaline said stiffly, though her eyes still showed a trace of fear.
Hex paused in the doorway and watched the domestic scene of Nadia waving a mixing spoon in the air while her grandmother peeled open a package of Sunrise! Delicious! He shut the door quickly and did not look back.
* * *
Sif, Ryg, and Hex gathered around the low table. On it Ryg had spread a print-out of building schematics.
“Here,” Ryg said, indicating a large room on the inside edge of the seventy-fifth floor.
“Just in and out, eh? The files won’t be hard to copy?” Hex asked.
“Shouldn’t be. I’ll send along one of my little standard chips. You might have to try running a couple different programs.”
“Sounds easy enough. Guards?”
“Drones. Totsi Electronics provides their security. They’ve got the regular issue. Non-lethal only. Patrols on a random generated pattern.”
Hex sighed. “Looks like roof entry through that central shaft is our best plan.”
Sif smiled at him and squeezed his hand. Hex hated the roofs, though he couldn’t deny that they were the best way to travel unnoticed in the city.
“Tomorrow night then, if you think that’s not too soon?” Ryg said. He sat very straight, body rigid. There was an air of anticipation about him.
Sif’s eyes narrowed.
“Not too soon at all, kid. Sooner we work, sooner we get paid,” Hex said and rose to clear their cups.
Sif followed Ryg into his room, yanking the curtain closed behind her.
“What’s going on?” she asked him, using sub-vocals.
Ryg turned his back to her and began fiddling with Fisheye. “Nothing.”
There was yellowish crust around his neck implant. It wasn’t like him to tolerate any bodily fluid leaking, much less drying on his skin.
“I know you better than that, brother.” Sif stepped forward and gently touched the wires protruding from his shirt.
Turning, he brushed her off. “I’m going to need to replace my knees soon. The joints are going. I need this job as much as you. That’s all.”
Sif considered him. He looked tired, yet focused. “Night then.” She turned away. We’re all falling apart.
* * *
Ryg waited until the curtain dropped closed behind Sif. He sighed and settled down in front of his computer screens. He loaded a program and made a call. Kadin’s face appeared. He was passing middle age, with short silvered hair and darker skin than Hex’s.
“They in?” Kadin asked.
“Yes. Though Sif’s suspicious,” Ryg said.
“Everything will be fine. They’ll never know.” Kadin’s image smiled wide and reassuring. “The real work will be going on far below them.”
“Except they won’t get paid. That’s going to ruffle things,” Ryg said. He hadn’t lied to Sif, he also needed the credit.
“Would they do it if they were getting paid?”
“No, not a job like this,” Ryg said with a sigh. He couldn’t tell his friends the truth. Sif would kill him for even thinking about it. Her rule was to stay as far away from anything having to do with the Council and government as possible. “But it’ll still look bad when we fail.”
“I’ll see what I can do for you at least,” Kadin said, reading into what Ryg wasn’t saying. “And we’ll see what we can do with what we get. There might be a larger payday later, if all goes as it should.”
“Thanks, friend,” Ryg said. He resisted the urge to scratch at wires in his neck, forcing his hands to stay quiet in his lap. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow night. Make sure everyone else is ready.”
“They will be,” Kadin said and then he ended the call.
“This better be worth it.” Ryg shivered. It would be. It had to be.
* * *
Sif fixed the tiny camera to her forehead, smack between her eyes. The apoxy stuck immediately and she inwardly winced at the idea of ripping it off. That part was never fun. The benefits of a live feed of what was going on, however, would always outweigh the bit of skin she’d lose later.
“Great,” Ryg said. “Now, try not to move your head around too much. I’m not the biggest fan of motion sickness.”
“Really?” Hex asked. “I figured you would have replaced your stomach with a spare bucket and some plumbing tape by now.”
Sif tensed. Ryg could be touchy when it came to making light of his body’s failings. She needn’t have worried. Ryg chuckled and then shrugged.
“I would, but you see, who knows where those spare buckets have been? So very unsanitary. So I’m unfortunately stuck with the acidic bacteria infestation that comes as standard option.”
“In that case I’ll try to resist all urges to pick Sif up and shake her like a rat,” Hex said solemnly.
“Aw, but then I’d get to witness, first person view and all, what she’d do to you afterwards.”
“Now that would be unsanitary.”
“If you two are done,” Sif muttered, “We have a building to rob.”
Mist, pervasive and cloying, settled in between the tall buildings and along Casimir’s spiraling street. The fog dimmed the bright advertisements pasted on screens, blurred the shining lamps and ever searching eyes of the security drones. On the far outskirts of the shell, beneath the conical towers of the aeroponic gardens, two shadows were up to no good.
Long warehouses stacked like steps lined the way between the wide alleys. The readout panels on the doors at ground level shone dimly red, all except one. The two shadows, revealing themselves to be thieves as they soundlessly shifted weapons and empty sacks in the darkness, honed in on the building with the panel. One was a slim woman covered all in black from eyes to toes. Her companion stood a head taller than she and was also covered in black but for his dark curling hair which escaped the hood of his jacket to stick to his swarthy brow.
It became immediately apparent to the thieves that someone else had gotten to the warehouse before them.
The woman, Sif, moved in on the guard watching from the doorway, dropping him to the ground before the hapless man could do more than open his mouth. Her companion, Hex, slipped inside the door and along one wall, listening to the two men haggle. He raised a hand, motioning the woman to move around and flank the men doing business, and their guards. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but Hex and Sif had learned to work with what they had.
Privately, Hex vowed to pay a nasty visit on the whisperman who’d sold him the info about this warehouse and teach the little bastard the real cost of double-selling.
A balding man with stick arms and a cheap suit leaned onto the large table dividing the back of the warehouse. On it were stacked bright red, blue, and yellow bricks of food stuffs with names like “Sunrise! Delicious!” stamped into the plastic. There were no batch numbers yet, nor dates.
In the eyes of the two men haggling, these were bricks of credit. For Sif and Hex, they were food. As much as he’d have liked to, Hex knew he and Sif couldn’t get enough out of the warehouse to afford to sell any on the black market.
“One hundred work income credits each, Mr. Cimbon.” Baldy stared up at the taller, younger man. “Seems fair, yes?”
“Fair? Seems like robbery, present situation not included, Mr. Armode.” Mr. Cimbon glanced at his goons and they both chuckled on queue. “Look, we’ll agree on sixty wic each, and be on our way home before curfew. Which,” his eyes unfocused as he queried his Personal Uplink Data Implant, “is in less than a half hour.”
“You’ll starve my family at that rate, Mr. Cimbon. Eighty-five at least.” Mr. Armode dropped his eyes to the man’s chest, seeming to sneer at the puff of chest hair spilling over Mr. Cimbon’s partially unbuttoned shirt.
“Seventy, and we’ll throw in a voucher for Sorjipe pond-grown fish. The real thing. Free and clear. Totally legit.”
“Seventy-five, and the voucher.” Mr. Armode licked his lips.
So did Hex. Pond-grown fish was a delicacy of the very privileged and though he’d never tasted any, it was reported to be night and day away from the vat grown imitation flesh standard vouchers could acquire. Hex knew instantly that Mr. Armode had made a mistake and bargained too low when Mr. Cimbon looked mockingly hurt as he accepted the deal.
“You’ll put us all out of business with those prices, friend. I suppose I must accept however. Man has to eat.”
Hex figured he’d given Sif enough time. As Mr. Cimbon had just said, a man had to eat.
The crackle of an electro pistol interrupted whatever either man might have said next. One of the muscle men dropped. The other went for his own gun, but another blast of energy dropped him with a blue hissing jolt. Hex emerged from near the warehouse entrance, pistol gleaming in his hand.
“Sit down, baldy. Put your hands on the table, flat.” His voice was silk over gravel. Mr. Armode did as directed.
Mr. Cimbon smirked at Hex. “You robbing robbers, fellow?”
“Indeed. Now, since you’re sneaking a hand toward the pistol in your jacket, you might as well remove it and set it down.” His gun hand didn’t waver.
The smile slid off Mr. Cimbon’s face as he removed the pistol. Hex watched him evaluate his options as he sluggishly complied with the order. The tables covered in bricks of food could supply some cover. There was plenty of darkness to hide in as well since the only illumination was a small battery powered glow disk resting near the terrified Mr. Armode. Planning his next action, Mr. Cimbon kicked his gun aside, letting it slide under a table.
“Not thinking of diving after it, are you?” Hex chuckled. Mr. Cimbon’s thoughts were painted on his face with broad strokes.
“I have friends, mister. Connections. I could be useful to a man like you. If you can accomplish this alone, think of the possibilities of a partner.” Mr. Cimbon molded his face into an open, friendly look that was about as convincing as pink dye on a sewer rat and not nearly as pretty.
“Thanks,” Hex said, “but see, I’ve got a partner. And she’s a hell of a lot better looking than you, I’m afraid.”
Mr. Cimbon heard a scrape near him and turned his head. Sif emerged from the shadows holding his gun as though it were a festering rodent.
“I can certainly see your partner’s ‘perks’,” Mr. Cimbon muttered, looking at the woman’s chest filling out her hooded coat. “She going to shoot me?”
“Her? Loria no!” Hex said. “She hates guns.”
As if to demonstrate that her partner had the right of things, Sif dismantled the pistol into component parts in seconds.
“Hex,” she said to her partner in subvocals through their linked PUDI, “stop preening. Stun them and let’s pack up.”
Hex sighed. He’d been enjoying the feeling of turning the tables on these assholes.
He shot first Mr. Cimbon and then Mr. Armode, the crackling electro-pistol sounding loud inside the large warehouse. They filled two large black packs with the various food packages. Seconds ticked past. Sif raised her head and put up a hand. Hex froze.
“What is it?” he asked through the link. She shook her head. Then he heard the drones. “Damn,” Hex said, “Baldy must have called security before I got him. I guess it’s time for plan B.”
Sif crossed her green eyes and scrunched down her pale brows at him, which he barely made out in the dim interior.
Hex chuckled. “Plan B is always run like hell.”
Sif snorted and scanned the darkness. She ducked under a bank of tables and growled, “Hex, back door,” into her sub-vocal mic.
The two slipped out the back, keeping their bodies in shadow against the long row of warehouses. They moved through the mist toward the towering buildings that loomed like walls lining the main street of Outer Morrow. The hum of drones and the sound of booted feet echoed in the damp air. Hex wished they had a little heat mapping support from Ryg right now, but he’d been busy with something else tonight so they hadn’t included him in this little mission. A shout rang out and the boot steps grew louder, closer.
“I think they’ve spotted us, probably our heat signatures,” Hex muttered into the sub-vocal mic.
He and Sif broke for the wall of buildings a hundred meters distant. Options were meager for escape. Curfew was in a few minutes, so the subways had stopped running and soon the city lights would be shutting down. The district gates would close. Hex resigned himself to either a slog through the subway tunnels or a cold long climb and a mad run along the slick roofs and walkways of Outer Morrow.
Sif dashed ahead of him, a dim blur in the wet. Running, Hex pulled his goggles out of a jacket pocket. He shoved them on one-handed and slid the wire into his PUDI jack just below his hairline at the temple. Once again he envied Sif her ability to see at night without artificial aid. The world turned to shades of gray and green, shapes forming out of the darkness. He nearly slammed into the first towering building that formed the barrier between Outland and Outer Morrow.
Sif’s gloved hand gripped his shoulder painfully hard and shoved him back against the wall. He glanced at her. Her beautiful face was hidden by the shadow of her black hood, her head cocked ever so slightly to the left. Hex turned very carefully and looked out into the darkness. He could hear the hum of drones; see their infrared lights through his goggles. None were too close, but the net was slowly closing in.
“Not much chance of getting to a subway access from here,” Hex said into the subvocals. Sif didn’t answer, but he’d hardly expected her to.
He felt his partner move and looked back at her. She was crouching, staring upwards, her face pale and damp. Hex followed her gaze and saw a large crenellation in the building above them. Most of the buildings in the city had carvings and outcroppings such as this. The concrete bell above them was quite large for the area, sticking out and forming a convenient ledge. Convenient if you want to jump three meters.
“I can’t make that leap straight up, love.” He looked back down at her.
Sif smiled up at him and interlaced her long fingers to form a step.
Hex sighed. He holstered his gun, checked the strap of the bag with their stolen food in it, and put a gritty, wet boot into her hand.
“Couldn’t we just shoot our way out of this in a blaze of glory like civilized people?” he muttered aloud.
Sif flung him upward into the air. He nearly missed the ledge of the ostentatious bell. His gloved hands scrabbled on it, and he winced at the noise he was making. Infrared light flared around him as a drone pinpointed their location. Hex hauled himself up, clinging precariously to the concrete. Sif joined him, leaping cleanly from the ground. She made anything physical look effortless.
Above and to the right was another bit of decoration. Slowly they made their way upward. Below they heard shouts but ignored them. One persistent drone kept up, climbing with them through the air. It was one of the egg-shaped spotter drones, at least, and not a full security model, which meant no gun.
No gun was good. Hex hated to be in a fair fight.
Hex drew his own gun and hung from the point of a concrete crown carved to look half-submerged in the building. The head-sized metallic construct drew near, the mist, now turning into a steady drizzle, forcing it closer in order to retain line of sight on the pair. Hex aimed and then closed his eyes against the bright flash of the electro pistol as he shot down the drone. It spiraled away into the darkness, echoing as it hit the pavement below.
“I just bought us a couple minutes ‘til they pinpoint us again, so let’s move.”
Sif climbed ahead of him, moving up the wall easily. They climbed higher until Hex felt as though his arms would never empty of blood again. No other drones had climbed this high and he wondered if they’d given up the hunt or if they’d just wait for the two to fall. So far they’d found no windows, no access points to the building they were climbing. He mused that their escape plan lacked some vital details in its construction.
There was a muffled curse and scrabbling off to the right and slightly above their position. Hex felt more than saw Sif shifting and moving towards the noise. He edged sideways, heading for the corner of the building. Sif had disappeared when he finally found enough purchase to risk looking up. Thankful for the roughened palms of his gloves, Hex gripped the edge of the building and cautiously swung his head around the side for a look.
Boots scrabbling on metal drew his gaze upwards. A couple meters above Sif leaned over the rail of a fire escape landing, staring down at him. She winked and beckoned to him. Hex couldn’t see a good way to get to the fire escape ladder without either leaping and hoping to catch the side of the ladder or sidling back along the wall and climbing higher. Sif would just jump.
He carefully counterbalanced his weight with his right arm against the corner and inched up the building. When he’d judged that he was on level with Sif he slid carefully around the wall again. She helpfully extended her hands towards him.
“This will be embarrassing if I fall,” he muttered.
“Only for about ten seconds,” said Sif.
Hex clenched his teeth and pushed away from the wall. For a split moment he was loose in the air, flying. Then his left hand gripped the rail while his right was caught expertly by Sif’s outstretched arms. He hauled himself over onto the landing.
Two of the Grey Guard, Casimir’s security force, lay piled against the far rail. To gain the ladder upwards, the two had to step over the bodies. Hex bent, partially to catch his breath, partially to check vital signs. They lived.
“Thanks for not killing anyone.” He looked up at Sif.
She shrugged and pushed him into the wall of the building. Her mouth, warm and soft, pressed against his as she grabbed a handful of curls to drag his head down to hers. He kissed her back, shivering as her body rubbed against his. Then he gently put a hand under her chin and lifted her face away from his own.
“Interesting timing, love,” Hex said. “Home first, perhaps.” He looked pointedly down at the unconscious guards they were practically standing on top of. Sif grinned at him and cupped his crotch suggestively. Then she stepped onto the ladder and began to climb.
Hex took a deep breath and started after her. It looked like it would be another cold, wet run across the roofs of the city.