Chaos Unbound (The Metis Files Book 2) Read online

  In the moonlight, as I tried to navigate the building, I could tell the decrepit structure was definitely a hospital that had been abandoned for years. Twice, I nearly fell as I tripped over mounds of broken tile, plaster, and unidentifiable metal objects. The indistinct tendrils of void-black energy crept everywhere along the walls and floors, heading me off. For the moment, there were no signs of anything following me, but after beating and then carrying Elegast, I couldn’t move fast enough to avoid the tendrils of energy. They began to grab at my feet and ensnare me. Dread and despair overwhelmed me. My mind began to wander, and I could barely focus on my surroundings, let alone which way I was headed. My eyes blurred, and I was unsure if I was hearing things behind me or not. All I could think about was how tired and hungry I was until I finally stopped in the middle of a room and sank heavily to my hands and knees, breathing raggedly. The dark energy crept up my body, holding me tightly. The feelings of hunger, misery, and exhaustion increased until something in my head told me it was hopeless—that it was okay to give in and stop.

  What?

  The sensation sent a cold shiver up my spine to a place in my brain that could not comprehend the message. My obligation to humanity and my sense of duty formed the core of my being and drove me. Give up? No. Stop? Never. I would die first.

  Anger started to rise in my chest, and the despair began to recede. Some feral part of me growled, refusing to give in, as I tried to stand again, straining with waning strength against the shadowy energy that held me. Resist.

  “D, get your ass up and get moving…” said a familiar voice from somewhere in the darkness.

  I didn’t know if I was imagining things or not. I blinked hard and searched for the source but couldn’t locate it. I continued to struggle, getting to one knee.

  “You know I can’t carry your ass, and Ab ain’t here to help me, so get up and get moving… now!” said the voice in the darkness.

  Ab? Did the voice mean my friend Abraxos? Suddenly, another cold surge of adrenaline began pumping through my body, and my heart sped up.

  “Duma? Is that you?” I asked.

  “Yeah, man, now get your ass up. Up the stairs to your left. The fucking spirit of this place won’t let me any closer, and we gotta move, and in case I hadn’t said it enough, I mean now!” he shouted. “Bad guys are right behind you.”

  Scuffling and shuffling noises closed in from almost every direction. A fully armed legion of fae would hardly make more noise than a few birds, so smack in the middle of an Unseelie stronghold, I really didn’t want to know what was creating the sounds.

  Through my haze, I saw the stairs. Visions of every combat instructor I’ve ever had—from my father thirty-two hundred years ago, to my SEAL instructors through BUD/S most recently—all screaming to get up flooded through my mind, but it was a vision of the intense, unyielding warrior-aspect of Athena’s countenance standing silently over me that drove me. She would never allow me to flinch. Resist. I willed myself to my feet, pulling myself slowly free from the black tentacles of energy until I could walk. I drove myself toward the stairs—and collapsed as I hit the first step.

  “Good enough, I guess. Now hold your breath if you can, ’cause this is gonna be a little noxious,” Duma said. The hollow rattling of a tin can tumbling across the tile floor behind me was followed by a dull whump then the sound of gas escaping. An acrid smell hit me as I sensed my body rise an instant before everything went black again.

  ***

  I smelled fish cooking then heard the sounds of a kitchen and someone screaming in an Asian dialect. I didn’t feel depressed anymore, though I was still so exhausted I couldn’t focus my eyes, and my limbs weighed thousands of pounds each. Then the smell made my stomach growl and twist involuntarily with an intense hunger that made me retch.

  “Get up, you lazy pile of pink flesh,” Duma said, followed by the sensation of being grabbed and lifted under my arms as I was dragged to my feet. “We gotta move, man. Let’s go,” he said with a pained grunt as I was pulled up faster than I could stand on my own.

  “I fucking hate this place,” Duma said.

  I suddenly began to run, stumbling along as I was dragged by my arm. My eyes focused only long enough for me to see flowing shoulder-length hair so pale, it was almost white. I should have known I could count on Duma when my ass was in a sling. I would die defending my Peri friends, despite the fact that the relationship has caused me grief over the years. We’d fought side by side for centuries for no other reason than that I asked for their help. I owed my life to them on more occasions than I could count, and I’d saved them many times, as well. Apparently, it was Duma’s turn to save me.

  At some point, I drifted back through the murky haze of consciousness and discovered I wasn’t moving. I was assaulted all at once by the combined smells of pungent spices, gamey animals, fish, garbage, sewage, stale water, cooking oils, wet asphalt, and cigarette smoke. I shook my head, fought for balance, and forced myself to stand on my own. I rubbed at my eyes. Artificial lights, though not bright, pierced my eyes, and I squeezed them shut again. In the brief moment I had them open, I’d seen I was either in a back alley of Chinatown somewhere or actually in some Asian country.

  I shielded my eyes with my hand and forced them open again. Colors, shapes, and lights began to coalesce into identifiable objects. Ducks hung from racks by their bent necks, and live chickens were stacked in crates on one side of us. Crates packed with ice and loaded with fish and sea creatures of all manner lined another side. Duma was to my right, in front of me, arms crossed across his chest and one eyebrow arched as he watched me.

  “Aw… there you go. Is ums all better now?” he said. “D, come on, man, we gotta go. Just stay on my six whatever you do,” he said.

  I nodded, and he took off down the alley at a brisk trot. I fell in step behind him, tired but elated to be out of the dungeon and off that island. He waved a hand, and the fabric of the space in front of him parted like a rip in a curtain. He headed into the tear, picking up speed. I followed, shielding my eyes and stumbling along as best I could.

  Chapter 11

  Duma had opened a portal into the Telluric Pathways, but we were covering ground so rapidly that I couldn’t focus long enough to tell where we were. I had absolutely no idea where we were going. I could have sworn we traveled through Paris, Chicago, and Moscow, guessing mostly by scent, but we passed through far more places I couldn’t identify in the few seconds we spent there. Some were tropical, some bitterly cold, and while a few felt desolate, the majority gave off the almost claustrophobic and frenetic feel of large urban settings. No beings were more adept at using that energy of the ley lines as a pathway than fae.

  In my stupor, I marveled at the fae’s innate understanding of the Ways. They see them as plainly as I see highways, and like a highway, the lines apparently had signs that told them where they were and where they were headed, too.

  We moved nonstop for at least half an hour. Duma kept making sure I was right behind him, rolling his head exaggeratedly, and sighing heavily every time he did so. While I was normally much stronger than he was, he’d always been faster. Not significantly, but enough. Right then, I was like a kid trying to keep up with Usain Bolt.

  Finally, Duma stopped and dragged his hand down in front of him. All at once, I could hear automobile traffic, voices, and construction, along with smells of smog, coffee, and aged wet stone as the Ways parted. We emerged in a cobblestoned alleyway in an old, damp but urban area. The usual city noises were remarkably light, and the alley was surprisingly clean. The surrounding buildings were short but abutted one another, and the architecture was an old combination of stone, plaster, and wood, so it had to be European.

  “Where are we?” I asked, breathing hard, barely able to stand. I slumped down along one wall to rest.

  “Zurich. Wait here and don’t move. They aren’t fa
r behind us.” Duma glanced around furtively before taking off down the alley toward a cross street.

  I must have fallen asleep, but it couldn’t have been for long. The low, throaty rumble of a massive engine startled me awake. When I opened my eyes, I saw a brilliant-red Aston Martin One-77 in front of me. The growling engine vibrated in my head.

  The door on the opposite side of the car from me opened, and Duma stuck his head out. “Get in. And don’t scratch the car. Move!”

  As he said it, three figures in long dark coats jumped down from a gabled roof down the alley, landing a hundred yards behind the car. I slammed the car door shut, and Duma floored it, causing the tires to squeal on the wet stones as the engine roared to a finely tuned crescendo. I watched in the side-view mirror as our pursuers kept pace with us until Duma pulled out of the alley, skidding onto a main road, where he furiously began to work the shift paddles behind the steering wheel until the speedometer hit one hundred miles an hour. Other cars and buildings whipped past so fast on the narrow street that it made me dizzy, forcing me to close my eyes.

  Duma tossed a pair of sunglasses into my lap then merged onto a highway, expertly weaving through slower traffic until the speedometer hit two hundred. The car’s sleek light-gray-and-black interior caught my attention. It was more impressive than the inside of my house back on Point Loma. Hell, it was nicer than most houses. I bet it cost more than some, too. The leather used for the seats was probably worth more than my boat, and the rich smell pleasantly overwhelmed the car’s interior.

  For a few minutes, I tried to pay attention to where we were. I watched as expansive green hilly fields and valleys interspersed with ancient small towns whipped past with a massive snow-capped mountain range in the distance, but I finally gave up the fight to stay alert and passed out. The next thing I knew, Duma was helping me out of the car. He mentioned something about Vienna, but mostly, I heard, “Blah, blah, blah…”

  ***

  I woke up on a futon in a darkened room with an IV in my arm and a splitting headache. To make matters worse, I was wearing a diaper. On the floor next to the mattress were two bottles of water and a jug of aspirin. I partook of both.

  Despite being alive for a few thousand years and kicking serious ass of some of the most bizarre creatures imaginable, removing an IV needle freaked me out. Needles and shots didn’t bother me, but I could never watch—the idea of removing the damned thing from my own arm gave me the heebie-jeebies. I did finally get it out, but I nearly bit my tongue off twice in the process.

  The only things in the bare cement-walled room were the futon, a chair, and a dresser. A long, thin steel sconce by the single door provided the small amount of ambient light. A pair of sweatpants hung on the back of the chair. I pulled off the diaper, horrified at what I might find, mercifully to find it clean, then put on the pants. Oddly, as I tested my limbs, my hands hurt far worse than anything else. The bruises, scrapes, and cuts were stark on my knuckles. They weren’t swollen anymore, but they were stiff, and flexing my fingers hurt. I could only imagine how Elegast felt.

  Whoever tried to frame me was dangerous enough that Elegast voluntarily submitted to me beating him to a pulp to help me escape from his opposing court. Whoever it was would pay for Elegast’s honor. And for what they did to me.

  I opened the door to the room and was hit all at once by the smell of something cooking, and a flood of bright artificial light instantly made me dizzy then nauseated. I swallowed hard then squinted, following my nose down the cement-walled hallway toward a larger room. It had the distinctly austere feel of an ultra-modern Asian apartment, though none of the decorations reflected that. In fact, the décor was elegantly simple. The spartan furnishings—a couch, two chairs, and three tables—were a combination of wood and various kinds of stone. Though the room was brightly lit, there were no windows. To my left, noises and voices were emanating from a room that was also the source of the food smells.

  “Look who finally woke up,” Duma said, coming up the hallway from behind me. “You want something to eat?”

  I reacted a little too quickly and had to catch myself on the back of a chair to keep from falling. The ridiculously attractive fairy was dressed in tailored coral-colored sweats, undoubtedly chosen to accentuate his alabaster hair and skin. They were silk, too. Not the stuff I wore.

  He passed and waited for me at the doorway, holding a pair of sunglasses. I snatched the glasses from him and entered. The room was a kitchen and informal dining area, and an Asian woman dressed in a short robe stood at the stove. Another petite Asian woman, dressed similarly, was setting the table.

  “Good morning,” they said in unison, in heavily accented English.

  “Uh, good morning,” I replied.

  Speaking Japanese, Duma broke into a full dialogue with them. They laughed and nodded as he pointed at me. Finally, he sat down at the table.

  He motioned to one of the seats. “Sit down before you fall down, D.”

  “Where are we?” I sat and put on the sunglasses.

  “A safe place. We’re in Tokyo. One of my secure hideouts near Golden Gai. What would you like to eat? Eggs? Bacon? It’s all fresh.” He gestured at the stove, and the woman standing next to it bowed her head a little.

  “Yeah, eggs and bacon would be great. Scrambled’s fine,” I said. “Secure? Are you sure?” I asked Duma.

  He smiled at me, though it was the sort of polite smile reserved for someone who was clearly a moron. “From humans, pretty damn. From fae, absolutely. We’re in the most populated city in the world, and this building is in the middle of one of the busiest markets on Earth, open all day, every day. We’re surrounded by a sea of humanity. No fae would ever come here unless the circumstances were dire.”

  “Trust me, dire would require a major improvement,” I said.

  “What’s going on, D? All I got was a note from you saying to get your gear bags and meet you where I did. Poveglia is bad enough, but then you showed up half-dead, to boot—”

  “I didn’t send you a…” Then it dawned on me. “Athena. This is a really long story, so just deal with it.” I brought Duma as up-to-date as I could.

  “Whoa, now that’s a serious conspiracy,” Duma said when I’d finished the tale. “You really think someone is trying to start a war between humans and fae? But why? Humans, by and large, don’t know about us. Crap, they are more willing to buy into aliens. Hell, half of fae sightings are chalked up to aliens as it is, so how do you expect humans to suddenly believe enough to wage war? Fae against fae, no problem, but fae and human? Not likely, D. You sure it’s not just open season on you?”

  “What’s the point of framing me? Besides, Elegast says he doesn’t buy the assertion that I killed Goibniu. He had information that led him to think it was someone else. He said the Seelie Court suspected me because of the way it was done. But I didn’t do it. Elegast said I needed to find out who did.”

  “Yeah, Elegast. Now there’s a self-righteous windbag.” Duma sneered.

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Again, I gotta ask why. It’s definitely a crazy time. Hell, only a few days back, the Iranians tried to kill the Saudi Arabian ambassador to the US. Of course they deny it, but since they approached me about doing it, don’t trust them. And, man, is there some crazy crap going on in North Africa. Gaddafi’s offering mercenaries a boatload of cash, but he’s so batshit crazy that Ab and I won’t even touch it. And for me to say that, you know it has to be nuts. But that’s all human shit.”

  “What? How long have I been out? Where’s your TV?” I got up, taking stock of the apartment.

  “TV? Seriously? And it’s the middle of October, according to your calendar,” Duma said, following me into the other room.

  “Hey, if Elegast is right, then there are going to be assassination attempts against human leaders and all kinds of politica
l unrest.” I suddenly felt completely overwhelmed by the implications of my predicament. “He also mentioned that the uprising going on in Egypt and the rebellion against Gaddafi’s regime might have been driven by whoever killed Goibniu and Indronivay. Maybe you’re right. A full-scale human-fae war might be farfetched, but all-out war, human against human and fae against fae, wouldn’t be as much. But who would stand to benefit from this kind of conflict? I need to contact Athena.”

  “Aren’t you, you know, like mentally connected to her?” Duma asked.

  “Yeah, but to save my sanity and allow me some semblance of still being my own person, she stays out of my head as much as possible.”

  “Well, then we have a problem. I am shut off from the outside world here, D. This is a safe house. I can have a runner get you a cell phone if you want, but you can’t use it in here,” Duma said.

  “Fine, get me a cell phone. I need to have her check into who or what would benefit from this kind of widespread chaos. It sounds like the kind of crap that witch Medea was up to when we killed her. Regardless, I need to find out who tried to frame me. And I am going to start with where they say I killed these two fae courtiers.”

  “D, I thought you only needed help to disappear for a while. I didn’t sign on to go against both fae courts. Been there, done that,” he said, waving me off.

  “I can’t just disappear. You know me better than that.” I fixed Duma with a hard stare. “It’s my duty to be violent in the face of monsters so that humanity can go on unaware.”

  “No kidding,” he said. “You are always the right man in the wrong place. But even your Shakespeare wrote, ‘Caution is preferable to rash bravery.’”