Ch4.31 Fatal Prophecy

“How many bolts left, Edison?” Sky asks.

“Uh...three.” The burly Guardia Popula sergeant fires, just to keep an enemy’s head down. “Two.”

Sky scans for movement as Machado reloads. He knows a few have slipped past them, one that flew through the air, another that he could sense below, tunneling through the ground. But they have bought Alma’s group a good fifteen minutes. He hopes they can reach the portal ahead of their pursuers.

He sees a rounded shape that wasn’t there earlier. He fires and is rewarded by a hiss that sounds familiar. A flesh wound only, but any mana spent on healing is mana a god won’t have when the real fight comes.

“That’s my last one,” says Sky. He sets down his crossbow and draws his sword. It is a short, wide tool, not quite the length of his arm, brutal in its simplicity, reinforced by magic so that it will stay sharper than steel and not break in the rigors of battle. “I’m going out to meet them. Use your last ammunition on ones that I don’t seem to notice, eh?”

Machado’s shoulders slump. “I won’t be able to fight much, with my leg like this.”

Sky squeezes the man’s huge shoulder. “After your last shot, just slip away, my friend. Hopefully–” He breaks off, listening. “Do you hear that?”

Machado listens. “Music?”

It is coming from behind the Dukaine attackers. From the direction of the Copper Pot. Sky grins. “Kyri.”

“Dona Kyri?” Machado asks. “But...what will she do? Make them dance?”

Sky listens intently. The music is stirring, the strings ominous as the orchestra promises rather than threatens a divine retribution for anyone who would defy the tiny conductrix. He feels his divine powers growing stronger, realizes he is getting caught up in the goddess’ musical distortion of reality, her divine power supplementing his own. She must have heard all the fighting, realized what was going on. Surely she will not join the fight directly, not short, adorably plump Kyri. But then again, Sky wonders if there is some steel lurking beneath her sweetness.

And then he hears the wings, and he sees them, glowing in the darkness, swooping down from the night sky. Winged horses, ridden by women, armored, bearing spears. They are like silver ghosts, translucent, perhaps mere illusions, but a scream, then moans and shouts of panic rise from the remaining Dukaines. Mortals, perhaps even gods, break and flee, exposing themselves to Machado’s fire if the Sergeant had ammunition to spare. Sky laughs and shouts, “Valkyrie!” He feels the urge for battle rise in him, fill him, partly his own, partly an urge brought on by Kyri’s music, and he hears her voice, clear and beautiful and sees her figure striding into view.

She is small but magnificent, her armor mirror-bright, her spear twice as tall as she is, with a broad leaf-shaped blade. Sky can feel just a hint of the terror she is inspiring in her opponents, senses how, to them, she is a towering giant they dare not approach. Still laughing, he leaps over the wall and charges toward her, hearing the roar of the ocean in his ears.

Kyri’s armor flashes and Sky sees another figure, standing behind her, much larger, unarmed, looking a bit unsure about all this. Brew, the beer god, come to stand with Kyri. He rolls his shoulders and clenches his huge ham-fists.

And then the remaining Dukaines erupt from hiding. The nearest to Sky is fast, on him almost immediately. Tall and thin, covered in what appears to be thick but flexible leather armor, moving swifter than any mortal and bearing two slender swords, the divine slashes before Sky can raise his guard, but only succeeds in penetrating the outer layer of leather over Sky’s chest, revealing a layer of chainmail beneath.

Once, for a few decades after fleeing the Insula and arriving on Earth, he was a god to idyllic island-dwellers on Earth, and they named him Tuma-Sukai, reflecting the dual nature they sensed in him: Devil Wave, Calm Ocean. In his counterstroke, he draws on the first part of that name. The gangly god or demigod tries to dodge, but there is no avoiding the power of the tsunami. The roar of the ocean fills the air, filling his arm as the blade comes down, smashing through one blade’s ineffective parry, and down through the armor, flesh, bone, and down, down to ring against the suddenly wet street.

Sky’s opponent slumps, unmoving, in two parts, blood pumping, spreading across the street. Sky feels himself grinning and exultant, and a small part of himself is frightened, but that part stays silent. This is no time for morality, his body sings. This is a time to kill or be killed. And if you are killed, you cannot defend those you have vowed to protect.

As he is turning something hits him, the world flips, and he finds himself flat on his back, confused. He feels like he has been hit by a house. Glancing around, shaking his head to clear double vision, it looks as if he was. Or at least a wall, which shattered after he was flattened by it. Then with a hiss, a familiar scaled enemy is upon him, grabbing his throat, strangling him. Sky’s vision clears and he sees the black-and-white snakeskin pattern of Eater of Frogs above him. If he weren’t being throttled, Sky would laugh.

He can feel the snake god trying to fill him with poison through his grip, as he did in their last battle, but Sky’s divinity is roaring in his ears, and the power of the ocean is washing away any poison. He reaches up and places his palms on Eater of Frogs’ chest, then pushes. The snake god flies back, choking, lungs filled with water and hurled away by the unstoppable power of the ocean waves. Gasping and struggling, Eater of Frogs tries to rise, choking and vomiting out seawater onto the street. Sky finds his sword and strides over, glancing to see Kyri and Brew fighting two much larger gods, one of them with at least eight legs. As Brew pummels the larger of the two gods, Kyri spins, crouched low, her spear scything at least four of the spider god’s legs out from under it. But as the little valkyrie prepares to stab the foe, one of the spider’s flailing legs hits her side, sending Kyri flying toward a wall, like a doll thrown by a child.

“I suppose you must’ve had a good lawyer, Eater of Frogs,” Sky growls. “He won’t do you any good if you don’t stand down now.”

The snake god makes it to his feet. Sky can see the fear in his eyes. The Inspector had not been nearly as powerful in their last fight, and Sky still won. But apparently the fear of his masters wins out, and Eater of Frogs hisses, “I’ll fill you sssssssso full of poissssssson you’ll never recover, Tuma-Ssssssssukai!”

Then just as the snake god is about to spring at him, Sky feels a wave of magic pass over him, and tastes...beer? Really good beer! And suddenly he doesn’t feel angry anymore, oh no, he feels mellow, floaty, as if his legs have disappeared, the world swaying back and forth, spinning.

“Oh, great…” he murmurs. “Wha’ da hell?” He’s barely able to remain standing, but Eater of Frogs collapses completely, and vomits again, and settles down to sleep in the vomit. Sky looks over at Kyri and Brew, and sees the only figure standing is the beer god. Everything else has gone silent.

Then a bolt zips past Sky’s head. He spins to look behind him, and just keeps spinning, three times around, staggering. He barely manages not to fall down, exerting his will, trying to use mana to burn the drunkenness out of this system.

Machado is laughing. “I’m sorry...my finger slipped! Wha’ happened? I feel...strange!”

“Ahhhh…” Sky vaguely waves over in Brew’s direction. “THAT guy! He made us drunk.”

“Ooohhhhhh.” Machado complains, “Brewwww! I’m on dutyyyyy!” Machado slumps on the wall, head sinking. “...beer always makes me schleepy.”

Sky turns again and staggers over to Brew and Kyri. The beer god is helping Kyri up. She is clutching her side,where blood is seeping out from under her breastplate. “Oww. Ohhh ow. Fiddlesticks!” She hiccups daintily, then giggles.

“You all right?” Brew calls to Sky.

“Fine,” the Inspector answers, shaking his head. His divine power still running strong, the drunkenness is washing away swiftly. He looks at the fallen opponents. The one with the extra legs looks like what you’d get if a centaur married a hairy tarantula. Only the face, as well as the lower body, is that of a spider, while the upper torso is that of an astonishingly lovely woman. Wonderful, Sky thinks. Another one for Sky’s Big Book of Recurring Nightmare Characters. In any case, the beer wave has made her forget how to coordinate eight legs and, essentially, two bodies, and she is just twitching and moaning on the street, her naginata dropped nearby. Sky kicks it further away.

“That’s a neat trick, Brew.” He nods at the other opponent, a rather mundane-looking man with a split scalp. “What’s with him?”

“He was, like, some über kung fu guy. Glowin’ purple energy around his hands. I didn’t want him touching me, and then Kyri got hurt, so I kinda, well, did my thing.” He shrugs. “Sorry, can’t discriminate between friend and foe with it.”

“I think you saved our lives, you two,” Sky says, feeling more normal by the second. “I don’t think I could’ve taken all four of them.” He pulls out a pair of enchanted handcuffs and slaps them on the martial-artist god. “Kyri...are you going to be all right?”

“I...think so, dear...if the world would kindly stop spinning, I’ll even heal myself a little. Whoopsy!” She swoons and allows Sky to catch her, giggling. Brew rolls his eyes.

Smiling indulgently, Sky hands her over to Brew. She pouts, then looks up at Brew adoringly. “My hero!” She reaches up and after a few missed attempts, strokes his stubbled cheek.

Sky resists laughing. “I only have one set of handcuffs. Can you keep this one drunk?” he asks, indicating the spider goddess. Then he looks back at where Eater of Frogs is lying. Was lying. The snake god is gone. Sky sighs, realizing the recurring annoyance must have a resistance to poisons as well. “And Sergeant Machado is injured.”

Brew nods, helping Kyri to stand again. “Got it.” At the sound of a Watch whistle, he glances over his shoulder. “Ah, here they come. Reinforcements.”

“Good,” says Sky. “I have to go. Perhaps I can do for the others what you two just did for me and Edison: come running to the rescue. Thank you!” And he speeds off as fast as he can along the route Alma, Dion, and the Bunnies took to Little Falls.

As Sky runs onward he hears Kyri rambling to Brew, “Do you know something? I really do think I could have beat that spidey-girl if you hadn’t gotten me drunk just then!”

“Of course you coulda, Kyri,” replies Brew, indulgently.

“No, really, I’m quite sure! I’d have just… just… whoopsy!”

Sky laughs into the dangerous night.

Ch4.28 Fatal Prophecy

Dark is falling as the group sets out. Sky and Machado are wearing Guardia heavy-duty jackets, thick leather reinforced with an underlayer of steel chain and strategically placed steel plates. Both are strong enough that it causes very little restriction, but Alma and Dion have eschewed the heavy jackets. In Alma’s case, she is wearing no additional protection at all, relying on her speed and grace, supplemented by her divine powers, while Dion has his own bespoke jacket, a bit lighter but, with its astonishingly expensive alchemical-metal reinforcement, it has the same ability to turn a blade as the standard-issue one – quite functional, flexible, and stylish as well.

Machado hefts his personal crossbow, a compound weapon with wheels and a cat’s-cradle of cable capable of punching a bolt through an armored jacket, the body wearing it, and out the back again, a low-tech weapon manufactured in a high-tech workshop. With its mixed zones of high and low tech, high and low magic, such compromises are not uncommon in the City of Heaven. “It’s too bad we don’t have any armor small enough for the Bunnies,” he mutters to Sky, scanning the street as they stride along. “But they’re hardly bigger than kids.”

“At least we were able to arm some of them,” Sky replies. He carries his own crossbow, a simpler affair, but its horn and wood are inlaid with silver runes like those on the truncheon he carries, magic to send a bolt farther, faster, and straighter. With ranged weapons ready, he and Machado are on point; behind them Dion and Alma walk protectively to either side of the group of Bunnies. Mayumi is carrying a light crossbow, still a bit too large for her, and she has a Guardia shortsword on her hip. Just behind her are Merri and Cherry, the former with a Guardia truncheon in her fist, the latter with a cricket bat, both claiming that after years of running a bar in their dream-lives, these are the sort of weapons they are used to. Sage carries a combat knife on his belt, something he took reluctantly only after Alma insisted and Mayumi showed him how to hold it. He has his hands full keeping the youngest, nameless Bunny with him, holding her hand firmly as they walk along. Finally, Kori and Chime are unarmed, being deemed too youthfully impulsive and untrained to be trusted with something deadly, as likely to hurt a friend as an enemy, or even themselves.

The Dei have made sure the Bunnies all have portal tickets and instructions on how to reach an alternate meeting point far from Three Rats, in case they get separated. Sky is most worried about the youngest, who is still basically an animal. Will she run away and hide at the first sign of trouble? Indeed, will all the Bunnies just scatter? None of them has been trained to fight, really, except Mayumi and, to a lesser extent, Kori. And as far as he knows, not one of them has ever seen serious combat. In fact, Merri and Cherry might have the closest thing to real experience with violence, with their allusions to having broken up some bar fights. Even Mayumi only served as a Guardia for less than two years in her dream world before she was brought back into this one, and she hasn’t mentioned having so much as a scuffle in that time. She looks confident, but he can sense her nervousness.

Still, perhaps they will make it to the portal at Little Falls without incident.

Such hopes are dashed as Sage shouts, “DOWN!” and dives for the street, pulling the unnamed bunny down with him. All the others follow suit without thought, and an arrow or crossbow bolt hisses through the air where they had been. Those ears, Sky thinks. Perhaps Sage recognized the sound of a crossbow safety being flicked off.

Sky scans the area in a moment. He sees the buildings, one of them a mere heap of rubble after having finally collapsed two weeks before. The river off to one side. Kyri’s Copper Pot café a block back. The experience of over a century of fighting in wars back on Earth gives him an instant picture of their tactical situation. As another arrow zips straight at him, he reflexively knocks it out of the air with his own crossbow, takes aim at the shooter – a mortal hiding behind a broken wall – and puts a bolt through the man’s throat. He rejects the closest, most obvious cover, knowing that their attackers expect them to go there and are just waiting to cut them down, and instead orders the group straight ahead at the wall over which the crossbowman is now slumping, twitching as his blood pumps freely.

Glancing at Machado while reloading, he and the Sergeant nod to each other. Machado aims to provide cover while Sky charges, crossbow held before him. The god feels his divine power awaken within, a cold, refreshing ocean pounding through his veins. Sky is in service of his Sphere: Breaker of Chains, Shadow of Liberty. He is fighting to keep the oppressed free, to break the corrupt power that threatens them. The paradox of being both Guardia and god of rebellion does not matter now. He is able to use his power to its fullest.

Time seems to slow. Another crossbowman rises and takes aim. Even though running full out, Sky plants a bolt in the man’s chest. But another rises beside him, and Sky has no time to reload. No matter – Machado’s bolt, fired with a steady aim, goes right through this one’s cheekbone, passing completely through the ambusher’s head. The target jerks and falls, spasming.

As he jumps over the wall, Sky sees the creature waiting in reserve, something like a scorpion made of green glass, its internal organs flexing as it scuttles to face him. A typical tactic when fighting gods: First hit them with mortals to waste their mana, then bring in the immortals and the magical creatures to finish them. Only Sky hasn’t even begun to use his mana, and in the service of his Sphere, he is actually gaining more.

In mid-jump, he tosses his crossbow at its face, causing it to flinch and raise its wicked pincers to block. Then he draws his short sword, shaped like a Guardia standard-issue blade, but made by a master smith. He lands next to the creature, coming down on it like the tsunami contained within his name, bringing down his left foot hard on one of its legs, cracking it like a lobster leg at a feast, and bringing the sword in an arc with all his strength, chopping hard at the thing’s stinger. He cuts almost all the way through the tail with one blow, rendering the stinger useless, and then, kneeling as the creature goes into paroxysms of panic, its feet clattering against the bricks of the street, he stabs down, piercing the shell and penetrating the thing’s semi-visible organs. Two-handed, he quickly yanks the sword back, splitting it to the base of its tail.

By the time Bunnies start swarming over the wall mere seconds later, to be followed by Alma, then Dion, and finally Machado firing another bolt behind him, the glassine scorpion is still twitching but rendered harmless. But as Machado clambers over the wall, a return shot from the enemy takes him in the thigh. The man curses in Portuguese and falls over the wall heavily.

Alma, after quickly checking to make sure all the Bunnies are here, calmly says, “Hold still, Edison.” Sky recalls his healing sessions with her, several times after his fight with Eater of Frogs as the god’s poison slowed down healing. Hopefully there was no poison here.

Sky retrieves his crossbow and reloads, glancing over everyone for injuries. He sees none, but notices that the Bunnies are shaken. Mayumi catches his gaze with hers, and he nods encouragement before taking a during position at the wall.

He hears Alma’s curt words to Machado, warning him of the pain. She grips the shaft of the crossbow bolt near the arrowhead, pulling the bolt through and out of his leg before he can get ready and tense up. She is already healing him before he can scream, soothing the pain away, stopping the blood loss.

“Will he be able to run?” Dion asks.

“That would take time we don’t have and mana we can’t spare,” Alma replies. “He’ll be able to limp.”

Dion is silent, but Sky knows what he is thinking. He’ll slow us down. But he is intent on listening to something else.

Growls and groans, some from inhuman throats. Feet, paws, and chitinous scrabbling as mortals, creatures, and probably a few gods move into new positions. He spots a head poking around a corner, takes a breath, and squeezes his trigger. There is a scream, a wailing that goes on a long time. The enemy forces stop moving.

As he reloads, he glances at the bodies of the dead crossbowmen. Their uniform, such as it is, is the typical mix of conformity and individuality of a street gang. Sky recognizes the colors and marks as those of Tonelero Jaguars, a gang whose territory is several blocks away.

“Edison, are the Jaguars allied with the Dukaines?”

Machado, his face and shiny scalp beaded with sweat, nods. “I heard they’d gone over a few days ago,” he gasps. “Probably sent in first to prove their loyalty.” To Alma, he says, “Obrigado, senhora. Como é forte e magnânima a vontade dos deuses–”

“Hush,” Alma insists. “You sound more like a worshipper than a comrade-in-arms.” To Sky, she asks, “Then this is a Dukaine attack?”

“Not just a Dukaine attack.” Sky glances at the Bunnies, and at the edges of his vision chains writhe and connections become clearer. “That first shot was at the Bunnies, but they’re the least important targets if the Dukaines are trying to take down the Guardia. Someone who wants the Bunnies dead has sent a hit team. And in so doing, he is revealing himself.”

Dion looks thoughtful. “Someone on the Council who couldn’t afford to send the Sikari. Someone who already has connections with the Dukaines.”

Sky nods, but Alma finishes, her voice quietly furious. “Even leading the Dukaines.” She looks at Sky, then Dion. “How likely is it that the Commander would send us three here by chance, bringing together the Bunnies, the nephew of an Archon, and a god of rebellion, whom he must have known would do the opposite of carrying out his orders?”

“That bastard,” Sky agrees, smiling grimly in admiration. “This has all been an operation to take down corruption on the Council.”

“That’s all way above my pay grade, but it doesn’t change anything right now,” Machado points out, painfully taking position at the wall. “You all still need to get to Little Falls. We have the river on the left, a pile of rubble on the right. Too exposed for them to advance across it. This is a choke point – they have to come through here. Now go. I’ll slow them down.”

“Not alone,” Sky says, taking position beside him. “One crossbow can’t hold them off long. With two, we can pin down the slower forces. If they have any who can fly, or swim across the river, or whatever, we may not be able to stop them, but we can hold most of them here long enough. The rest of you, slip away and go swiftly.”

Alma holds his gaze, and looks as if she’s about to speak. But a younger voice says firmly, “Three crossbows would be better.” Mayumi starts to take position at the wall.

Alma and Sky say “No!” simultaneously. When Mayumi opens her mouth the protest, Alma sharply warns, “May!” The Bunny’s ears go back.

His voice low but commanding, implacable, Sky says to her, “You are staying with your family.” He holds her gaze for a moment, until he sees acceptance. To the rest, he says, “Now go, all of you. Quietly but quickly. We’ll catch up with you at Math’s estate.”

Just then, Machado looses a bolt at an enemy. “Here they come!”

Ch4.27 Fatal Prophecy

Back in his office, alone, Sky sighs. What is wrong with me? My emotions are like stampeding horses. If I keep going this way, I’m going to lose control of my form. And people are depending on me. Ever since arriving here… The Commander was wrong to post me here.

He thinks back to how he was up until a few short weeks ago: distant, cold, stoic. Controlling his emotions at all times. Always acting, never letting the mask slip, like a good undercover agent, a good infiltrator. But then there had been incidents years ago, hadn’t there? That gang of slave-breeders summoning demons to create exotic hybrids. He had lost control entirely then. The official report was that they’d been killed by their bound demons.

It was almost true.

What was causing this loss of control? Was it being in command? Alma’s friendship? It had been decades since he had had a friend. The Commander, his master, really can’t count. And his partner under the commander – certainly one of the best people to have on one’s side in a fight, but “friend” was an uncomfortable term to apply to their ambiguous relationship.

But does Alma count? She had held back information that put them all in danger. Still, he had to admit that Gwydion had made a good point. Fleeing off-world should be a true last resort, and if Sky had known what Alma had just revealed, then she and the Bunnies would already be on the run. Perhaps it is for the best she kept her secret this long.

He opens the door and calls to Aliyah. “Corporal Kaur! Is Sergeant Machado in?”

Aliyah stands up from her desk, dark circles under her eyes. “Yessir! Shall I get him?”

“Yes, and Corporal Stathos?”

“Uh, it’s not his shift, sir. But I know where he is! He just got off and he said he was gonna do some shopping at Patel’s on the way home!”

Sky hesitates. “Could you run get him? This is important.”

Aliyah’s eyes widen. “Sure thing, sir! I’ll be right back! Oh, but the Ser–”

From upstairs on the first floor, Machado’s voice booms down, “I’ve already overheard, Corporal. On my way down.”

As Aliyah dashes out the door, Machado arrives at Sky’s office and nods. “Inspector.”

“Thank you, Sergeant. Please have a seat. If you don’t mind, I’ll wait until all the ranking Guardia Popula are present. Tea?”

A few minutes later, Aliyah arrives, with Corporal Stathos in tow. Stathos, looking worried, is carrying two cloth bags filled with vegetables. Sky welcomes them and apologizes to Stathos as he closes and locks the door and activates the privacy enchantment. He can feel the tension in the room rise as he slices open the tip of his middle finger – yet again, how many times in the past week or so? – and he wishes he had Dion’s command of magic. The spell Dion had used was so much more elegant, and less messy.

“Inspector,” intones Machado. “May I ask what you are doing?”

“Forgive me, Sergeant,” Sky replies as the fourth ideogram glows red. “This is a spell. It will prevent anyone outside from listening in via magical means. I have something sensitive to tell you three.” He turns to face them. “There is a threat to the Bunnies. A deadly threat. We need to move them. As such, Sergeants Alma and Gwydion and I will be escorting them to safety. I wanted to explain why we were leaving.”

Aliyah’s face flushes and she stands. “Who’s threatening them? Who wants to hurt ’em?” Her fists are clenched as if she is just looking for a face to punch.

Sky looks down. “It’s the Council of Archons.”

The room falls silent. Invoking the Council, which normally operates behind the scenes, cloaked by the polite fictions of the Senate – a squabbling mass of hundreds of elected gods – and the Comitia Tributa – the Council of Tribes, representatives of the mortal population and widely regarded as a powerless joke – provokes fear even in immortals, but among mortals the Council holds a near-mythical status. Faceless, unnamed gods far more powerful than those they might meet on the streets, far more ancient, with a thousand years or more of intrigue and backstabbing behind their climb to power, are barely imaginable by mortals. Members are selected by the Council, not elected by outsiders; answerable to no one, their pronouncements outweighing any made by the lesser branches of government. They are the true power of the City.

Stathos is the first to recover. “The Council...has ordered their deaths?” His voice is shaking. Sky remembers, from the Corporal’s file, that Stathos’ grandparents had once lived in the First Ring, serving a high-ranking god’s household for untold generations. Something had gone wrong, and that god had been stripped of everything by the Council. And Stathos’ family, once prosperous and respected, had ended up in Three Rats, deep in the Fourth Ring, with nothing.

“They can’t!” Aliyah shouts suddenly. “They...the Bunnies haven’t done anything wrong! Why would anybody want them dead?”

“It’s complicated,” Sky says calmly. “But suffice it to say, we are not going to obey the order. Therefore, we must leave. I thought you should know why.”

“I’m going with you!” Aliyah shouts, surprising Sky. As he is about to object, Machado, who has remained silent, speaks implacably. “No.”

Aliyah looks at him, her jaw clenched. “Sir...I respectfully request permission to accompany–”

“No, Corporal Kaur,” Machado states. He is still sitting in his chair, back straight, not looking at her, his round, shaven head sunken into his massive shoulders, looking as if he is thinking hard. “You may not accompany the Guardia Dei.”

“Sir, please!” When she sees that Machado is still refusing to look at her, she turns to Sky. “Inspector, please let me–”

“Constable Kaur!” Machado rises from his chair now, eyes wide and blazing in his dark face. “Need I remind you that you are under my command?”

“Constable?” Aliyah asks in a tiny voice.

“That is correct, Constable. I will choose someone to replace you as corporal tomorrow.” Machado narrows his eyes at her. “Obviously you are exhausted from working double shifts recently. Go home, Constable. And if I see you anywhere near the Dei on their way out of Three Rats, you will be a civilian before you can blink!”

Aliyah’s chin trembles and her face turns red. Tears fill her eyes. Sky moves swiftly to deactivate the privacy spell, knowing that she wants only to flee, and as soon as he unlocks the door, she stalks from the room, glancing at him momentarily,  her face a warring mix of emotions. He looks at her apologetically, and nods thanks to her for her foolish but brave offer.

As soon as she is gone, Machado turns to Stathos. “Sorry, Corporal. You’re not going home yet. You’re in charge of the station for the next shift. I’ll send someone to run the groceries home to Luís and your girls.”

Stathos turns pale. “S-Sir?”

“Go on now,” Machado says softly. “I need to talk to the Inspector.” After the young man is gone and Sky has closed the door, Machado says, “I’m not sure what’s safe to say without that spell, but, uh, I understand you need an escort.”

“No, Sergeant,” Sky says. “This is not Guardia business.”

“Sure,” the burly mortal says, rubbing his dark-brown bald pate. “But we don’t want any trouble on the way out, do we? I’ll just go along. Purely in a private capacity.”

Sky can’t speak for a moment. “Edison...I’m touched. But I cannot ask you to do this. There could be trouble on the way.”

Machado looks at him with a sad smile. “You may not know this, but I’ve been teaching Kori capoeira. He has a real talent for it, that kid.”

Sky skeptically glances at the Sergeant’s burly body. He looks more like a small sumo wrestler than a capoeirista.

Apparently Machado gets such looks often enough to recognize the glance. “Yes,” he growls with narrowed eyes. “I do capoeira. I’ll be glad to give you a lesson some time.”

“Oh, of course, yes,” Sky murmurs, imaging getting kicked in the teeth by the man.

Machado continues, “And Sage and I, well, we’ve had some talks in the bar.” He shakes his head, smiling. “I don’t know how anyone could talk with him for five minutes and not feel like he’s got a new friend. Cherry and Rosemary, too. They’re good girls. All of ’em are good.” He frowns and reiterates, “I’m not going to let Aliyah torpedo her career, but I’m going with you. Besides, you Dei are so impractical. I need to make sure you’re properly kitted out. Armored jackets, crossbows. Let’s hit the armory, sir.”