The grass in front of her burst open, and a shape erupted out of the hole and landed in front of her. Felicity skidded to a stop, stumbling over her feet. It stalked toward her and she saw that it was human-shaped and green and yellow and black, like a poisonous frog. Its skin was wrinkled and caught the light as though it had been shellacked with slime. The seemingly featureless face was covered with a membrane that glistened and moved.
Then flashes lit up at its sides and shoulders, and it twitched as if stung. She saw Checquy troops advancing with guns. Unfortunately, their bullets did not appear to be doing much harm. The creature was, most thoughtlessly, failing to crumple or even get punctured. It was, however, getting irritated, and it gave a wet, bubbling snarl through the membrane on its face. So it has a mouth somewhere behind that stuff.
She realized with a start that she was still clutching her gun. Maybe at closer range it will do some damage, she thought. Or at least buy me a couple of minutes. But by the time she brought it up, one of the Pawns must have managed to unlimber his powers, because a bolt of orange lightning lanced across from the pub and buried itself in the creature’s body, which shuddered as it smoked. For a few moments, crackles of electricity danced across its skin, but then it resumed moving toward Felicity. She scrabbled backward and brought up her gun.
“You think that’s all we’ve got, beastie?” she heard Pawn Kirkcaldie say over her headset. “Checquy, bring that thing down.” And the Pawns let loose.
It was madness. Trails of green smoke wound over its body, raising blisters and bubbling skin. Frost spread in fern patterns on the monster’s chest. The grass underfoot grew longer and twisted around the creature’s feet, then a squealing scraped through the air as veins of copper spread through the vegetation and turned to rigid metal cuffs shackling its ankles. Patches of color were leeched from its skin.
A pair of razor-sharp hatchets whirled down from a nearby rooftop, buried themselves in its shoulder blades, then whipped through the air back to the hands of their owner, who threw them again and again. And not all of the Pawns’ powers could be seen. For a few moments, for no apparent reason, the creature frantically clawed at its own face. Then it was slapping at the air at things no one else could see. Meanwhile, bullets continued to spray it, and Felicity fired her own weapon into its chest. Another bolt of reddish-yellow lightning erupted and the creature went to its knees. Finally, it fell backward, its feet still locked in those metal shackles.
Then, almost like an afterthought, a nearby Volvo was jerked away from its parking place and came cartwheeling thunderously across the road to land, nose-down, directly on top of the monster.
The echoes from the attack died away. I will never use the word overkill again, thought Felicity weakly.
“Nice job, people,” said Kirkcaldie in her ear. “Very nice. Now let’s take a breath, then we’ll enter the church and see if that thing has left any victims alive.” The troops on the ground began walking toward the wreckage, and several others descended from the rooftops, one of them backflipping easily down three stories and landing like a cat.
I’m going to have to scout out that crypt, thought Felicity. But first I could do with half a pint of something. She was rather pleased with herself. She hadn’t been killed, she’d managed to get some shooting in, and she hadn’t been ill. Maybe I’ll make it a full pint.
Suddenly there were bursts of dirt and grass and tarmac all around as one, then four, then a dozen of the creatures came out of the ground.
Bloody hell!
The street went apocalyptic as each Pawn acted instinctively to attack the creature nearest to him or her. Light and sound exploded. A wave of cold swept over Felicity and, for a few hideous moments, everything looked upside down.
Then everything righted itself, and the world made sense again. Except for all the supernatural shit going down. Kirkcaldie was screaming something over the airwaves, so loud that Felicity had to tear her headset off, but now one of the creatures was looming right in front of her, its back to her as it held up a squirming Pawn with both hands and crushed the man’s neck. Damn you! thought Felicity, and she suddenly had the barrel of her gun against the nape of the creature’s neck and was pulling the trigger and emptying the clip. To her astonishment, the creature fell to the ground. Automatically, she slapped a fresh clip into her weapon. One clip left after this, the professional part of her mind reminded her.
Okay, what next? she thought, looking around.
Apparently, disaster was what was next, because other Pawns did not appear to be faring at all well against the creatures, who were now vaulting up onto roofs and going after the snipers. Pawns and Retainers were scattering, shouting to one another to fall back.
So extremely bad, thought Felicity. Leliefeld! I’ve got to get her out of here! Between Felicity and the pub, however, was a supernatural free-for-all, and the Checquy was not winning. She would have to find a way around. Then she realized that the pub’s windows were shattered and a cloud of black smoke was belching out.
Oh, I’m in so much trouble, she thought. The creatures, fortunately, were focusing on the Checquy troops who were attacking them and ignoring the one who was standing there, aghast. She saw one soldier, the man who had been shooting lightning, get pulled, yelling, into one of the holes in the ground.
All right, you can’t help them armed only with moral outrage, she told herself. You need to fall back, find Odette, and keep her safe. Holding her gun low, she scuttled to her left, her eyes fixed on the gap between two houses. She ducked as a high-pitched whine filled the air behind her, and a human voice rose up in agony. As she hurried into the passage, she heard the unmistakable sound of a car exploding behind her.
Felicity ran down the curving alleyway, and the noise of the battle grew quieter. She paused, gasping for breath, and leaned back against the wall.
I will be calm.
Now prioritize.
First, check communications. She put the headset back on. There was only static. “Hello?” she said quietly into the microphone. “Pawn Kirkcaldie? Leliefeld?” No answer. Oh God, please don’t let her be dead. Quite aside from the political ramifications of Leliefeld’s death and the fact that it was Felicity’s job to keep her alive, she actually liked the Grafter. It was impossible not to like someone when she saved your sight and sculpted you a dress and you saw her worried out of her mind about her little brother.
And what did I do for her? thought Felicity. I brought her here. It had been on orders, but still.
Second, take stock of equipment. She had two clips left, one in the gun, one on her belt, but since bullets seemed to have no effect unless you put the gun right against the napes of the creatures’ necks, Felicity was not encouraged. One combat knife strapped to her thigh. You need to find yourself more weapons, locate that girl, and get her out of here. Do it now!
She looked up, startled, as something vaulted over the alley above her head. It was followed by two other somethings. She caught a flash of yellow, green, and black. The sound of gunfire echoed down to her.
I need to put some distance between me and the chaos and then circle around back to the pub. If Leliefeld isn’t there, then at least my phone will be. She hurried down the alleyway, ignoring the passages that sprouted off it. Finally she came to a doorway set into one of the walls. It was locked, but she smashed the lock open, horribly aware of the noise, and slid into the house.