Page 73 of Night in a Waste Land

“After she” – bodily threw a possessed man into a hole in the ground and sealed it up – “did that, she passed out, and didn’t wake up for a week,” Lance explained. “I had to carry her out of there. Someone had managed to unrig our bomb and take the bikes. We were on foot. It was – ugly, getting out of the city.”

He still had flashes of it in nightmares: the choking stink of ash and charred wood, trying to cradle Morgan in one arm and wield his gun with the other. Gavin had been set upon, his legs burned; his screams still haunted Lance’s memory. Morgan had healed him, finally, when she’d been awake for a few weeks – she’d eased some of the worst damage, at least, though he still carried scars all down his thighs and calves, and limped, sometimes, when the weather was especially humid.

By the time they’d gotten across the bridge, they’d all been stumbling, shivering wrecks. They’d holed up in an abandoned house with its entire rear façade blown out, and called in for an evac. Lance had slept face-down in his bunk, still in his soot-smeared fatigues, for fifteen hours, his boots hanging off the end.

“It’s a miracle we all made it out,” he said. “I’m still not sure how we managed.”

“You have the conduit still?”

“Yeah, but – you know conduits.” Lance tried and failed to tamp down a mounting impatience. It felt like Beck was being dense on purpose. “They do their magic tricks, and then they pass out. If they aren’t draining the life out of people on the regular, they have to take breaks, or risk burning up the body they’re inside.”

“Yes.” Beck’s gaze sharpened; his tail twitched. “Were you hoping to summon a pet demon, then, when you sent Derfel to fetch me?”

“No. But we thought you might know something about fighting them. We can handle one or two individually, but clearing out the city is going to take a helluva lot more firepower than what we can muster.”

“And you need to clear out the city why?”

Lance huffed in annoyance.

Rose said, “Three months ago, two companies went out on what they thought was a regular op. All of them were killed. The conduit who did it left a calling card.” She produced her phone, and showed its screen to Beck.

Lance remembered all too well the great glowing S that had been stamped in the pavement, visible from the air as they’d leaned out of the helo, its edges faintly smoking.

“Shubert’s war with Lassiter is expanding. The city keeps boiling over, and now Shubert’s putting hits out on our companies in other cities. This isn’t just a case of isolated incidents anymore: this is orchestrated, calculated terror and slaughter. We have to end it now, and it has to start in New York.”

Beck’s lips spread in what wasn’t a smile, teeth glinting. “I’m flattered you think I’m so powerful.”

Lance felt the urge to bare his own teeth in return; to lift his hackles and deepen his stance as he was examined by a predator.

“Believe me,” he said, “I wish I didn’t.”

ELEVEN

Before

Rose had just finished taping her knuckles when Lance walked into the training room.

No, notwalked.Slouched. He looked beaten-down and exhausted, his shoulders slumped, his eyes pouched with sleepless bags.

He’d taken the lost companies hard, even though he hadn’t been their commander, and hadn’t been the one to send them into action. He was wallowing, and she thought a distraction would do him some good.

“I was going to hit the bag,” she said, “but we can spar if you’re up for it.”

He’d been in the process of sitting down on one of the benches against the wall, and paused, hovering – she would have laughed at the picture he made at another time.

“I’ll go easy on you,” she teased, and even managed a smile. Despite the pall that had fallen over the base – all bases – in the past few days, she found it easier and easier to smile these days. To laugh at a joke Gavin told, to give Gallo an encouraging grin. To offer a bit of softness to Lance, who trusted her judgement, and didn’t shy away from her fierceness, and who could make her feel good in a way she hadn’t thought would be possible again, after Beck.

He lowered the last bit, and sat, and offered her a sad attempt at a smile in return. “Not sure how much fun I’d be, in this state.”

“It’s always fun to kick your ass.”

He snorted, and reached for the roll of tape.

Rose worked through her stretches and light warmup while he taped his hands: jumping jacks, squats, planking. Just enough to get her loose and hyped, but not overtaxed. A routine as familiar as breathing by this point. She jogged in place while Lance went through a halfhearted sequence of stretches. He truly was in a state, if the heaviness of his movements were any indication.

When he finally settled into a ready stance across from her on the mat, she felt a stab of doubt. “We really don’t have to if you aren’t up for it. I can–”

He sent a jab at her face. That was that, then.

---