The Psychonaut - Book 1 Page 13

  “We’re outnumbered,” he said.

  “Time to even the odds then. Remember, restraint and control—focus on that thing.”

  Like mind-painting, she highlighted a giant figure with a halo of gold raining blows down on Huey and Louis. Dewey lay prostrate on the floor. The callous, brute force that Merrick received from the giant was overpowering, and he unleashed his mind-bolt, seeing it shoot across the soundscape. The giant’s skull exploded, showering brain matter and bone fragments over its former victims.

  “Shit!” Merrick said and fell over backwards in the van, the meld temporarily broken.

  Celestia reached over to him. “Tu n’as rien? God, I felt that. I thought I told you to focus the bolt, not discharge it all at once.”

  “I know,” he groaned. “But he attacked me with his mind. It was self-defence.”

  “Nephelim-born—they fight with unbridled savagery. I should have warned you about them. Are you up to going back in?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, voice shaking.

  “Take a shot of the pineal boost, to renew your mind energy.”

  Merrick reached for his haversack and pulled it clumsily to the floor.

  “Here,” she said, ripping it open and pulling out an Epipen. She removed the protective cap and plunged the stubby needle into his thigh. He cried out in pain.

  “Bébé.”

  “You enjoyed that didn’t you?” he said through clenched teeth, yet he could already feel the vitality shooting through his nerves.

  “Come, we can’t delay,” she said.

  ~~~

  Back in the exhibition room, Jason cursed aloud. High calibre rounds snapped by his head as he tried to exert his thaumaturgy, but it was all he could do to divert the bullets fired at him. He had nothing left for his comrades.

  “Black and yellow team,” he shouted through his microphone. “We need you in here—now.”

  “Coming through the entrance,” said Black team’s captain.

  “Yellow team, can you hear me?” he repeated.

  He heard the mocking sound of static through his earphones. What the hell’s happened to them?

  Green team were already in the room and had initially taken the Ukurum by surprise. The numbers were too great however, and a deftly thrown grenade had decimated two of the Greens into a bloody pulp.

  “Damn them,” Jason said to Boris, who crouched next to him. “I thought we’d have the element of surprise, but they trumped us. Have we anything we can throw back?”

  “I’ve got a couple of grenades. If I toss them can you influence their trajectory?”

  “I can if I’m not distracted.” He turned to a gunman on his left. “Belos, give me some covering fire.”

  Belos grunted and swung his machine gun round the plinth, opening fire. Immediately he was cut down with a spittle-spray of Uzi death.

  “Christ, they’re second-guessing our every move,” Jason said. “Where the hell is Black team?”

  As if in answer, two groups of Hierophants appeared at opposite doorways. They were on top of the Ukurum before the enemy could bring weapons to bear. Close range combat favoured the jumpers as their agility and deadly knife-work left the heavily armoured gunmen floundering.

  “Come on. Now’s our chance,” Jason said.

  The three remaining members of Blue team dashed round the excavator and entered the fray. No sooner had they done so than a horde of new combatants spewed out of the crater like ants from a nest. Sarlic led them, with Radice and Theta following—a triumvirate of evil. They closed in on the Hierophants, pressing them against the marble walls with sheer force of numbers.

  Jason drew two Ghurka knives and parried a blow delivered from Radice’s halberd. He threw the Ukurum back, exerting his thaumaturgy at the same time. Radice tripped over a freshly slain corpse. It only gained Jason a few seconds however, as Radice flipped himself up, bringing the halberd round in a wide arc. The scythe-like blade missed him by a centimetre.

  “Jason?” He heard Sarlic’s voice roar over the sound of the melee. “Save your men and surrender. This is a battle you cannot win. You are outnumbered three to one.”

  Jason looked about him. It was true, the Hierophants were putting up a brave fight. But enemies beleaguered them on all sides. He watched as Theta swung her three-tailed morningstar at an unguarded Trishla, and stared in horror as the spiked balls embedded themselves into her head with cruel efficiency. He had just enough presence of mind to speak into his microphone.

  “Kemper, are you still there?”

  “I am,” came the reply.

  “Thank Aiwass. Open the door.”

  ~~~

  “Good to go?” Celestia asked.

  “Never better,” Merrick said. And he wasn’t lying. He felt vital, supreme. He was also a little out of control, like he had to constantly tighten the lid on a pressure cooker.

  “Let’s meld,” she said.

  In a heartbeat they were back in the battle arena. A scene of devastation greeted them. Limp, bloodied corpses hung over lumps of concrete. In the high definition world of their melding, Merrick also noticed severed limbs and macerated torsos. What he couldn’t see was the shocked, questioning expressions of the recently departed. Faces of people he had known for brief, fleeting hours. He wondered who would mourn them.

  Beyond the excavator, in the far corner of the room, A phalanx of Ukurum surrounded the last eleven Hierophants. In a commanding position stood Sarlic, sadistic pleasure spread across his face. Vengeful bile rose in Merrick’s gorge as he focused on the figure, but the image danced before him in an unpredictable fashion.

  “Why can’t I home in on him?” he said.

  Celestia concentrated. “There’s interference coming from within the machine. I think there’s two people in there but I can’t make them out. It must be the vehicle armour. You’ll just have to take your best shot.”

  Merrick relaxed his control on the third eye and released a bolt of mind energy in the direction of Sarlic. It nearly made its mark, but the path to failure is paved with a thousand nearlys. Sarlic’s image moved at the last minute and the bolt struck an Ukurum standing behind. She wrenched her neck back in a rictus of agony, then toppled forward into the scrum of bodies.

  “Fuck,” he cursed, dismissing the failure. The shock and revulsion of taking another’s life would hit him later. He could feel the well of energy filling his mind, but not fast enough. It would be a while before he could renew his assault.

  Then, above the tumult, Merrick heard a familiar roar. Combatants on both sides turned in the direction of the entrance as a red, hoary brute appeared at the door. Beneath its domed forehead, two dead eyes levelled their gaze on the squad of warriors.

  “My God,” was all Merrick could say.

  Like a spring uncoiling, the Simiatan leapt towards the Ukurum, landing in their midst with arms flailing. It battered two warriors against a wall with a single blow and immediately picked up two others by their necks. Incomprehension covered their bulging eyes as their necks broke.

  Jason’s remaining team seized the advantage and fell upon the surprised Ukurum with renewed barbarity. Two warriors fell under the ferocity of Jason’s blades, while Black team neutralised others with precision thrusts.

  Theta, standing on a display cabinet, raised her flail and aimed a swing at the beast’s torso. It brought up a protective arm instinctively, causing the flails to wrap around the limb. The beast pulled backwards, forcing the weapon from her grip. With its other hand it plucked her from her perch and threw her into a group of Ukurum. Merrick didn’t know if they had been killed outright but none of them stirred.

  With Theta gone, Sarlic was unprotected. He hurled two throwing stars in quick succession. One embedded itself in the ape’s chest, the sound not unlike a cleaver slicing into a melon. The other sank into its face. The beast roared in pain but made a quick recovery, bounding over to the Ukurum lieutenant. Sarlic feint
ed to one side then lunged to the other, trying to move away from its radius of hate. The beast wasn’t fooled. It caught him in both arms, wrapping him in a death hug. It roared again in his face, spraying him with caustic wads of spittle. Even in death, Sarlic grinned in masochistic pleasure. In the next second, gouts of blood flooding from his mouth and nose marred his comely visage. A scream of agonised loss issued from the excavator.

  Celestia directed their joint consciousness at the excavator once more. Jagur Shamon climbed out of the turret holding a frightened girl in front of him. He held a blade to her slender neck. Merrick tried hard not to believe what Celestia’s perceptions told him.

  “He’s got Lotus,” she said.

  “No way, it can’t be.”

  “Drop your weapons,” Shamon cried, “or by all that’s unholy, I’ll slit her throat.”

  “Ignore him,” Jason cried. “We cannot afford to give him the upper hand now.”

  Black team and the Simiatan hesitated only for an instant before renewing their assault.

  “The bastard,” Merrick said. He gathered his will for another mind bolt but found he had nothing. “Fuck it, I’m going in there. Tell Jason he has to lay down his arms.”

  Celestia looked at him. The glow of the monitor showing indecision on her face.

  “Do it—now!”

  He didn’t wait for a response but burst out the back of the van, sprinting towards the museum. He prayed that Celestia and Jason saw sense. In the distance sirens wailed and urgency required that he focus on saving Lotus and fuck the rest of it.

  Inside the entrance hallway he leapt over the bodies of hapless security guards and ran towards the sound of the skirmish. Once inside the exhibition chamber, he located the excavator and ran towards it, heedless of the danger. The melee had stopped for the moment, yet weapons were still held in ready hands. Shamon gripped Lotus, and he could see blood dripping from a wound on her neck. The cold hand of dread gripped his heart.

  “Hear me well, Jason,” Shamon said. “Merrick Whyte will hold you accountable for this. Where will your key to the gateways be then? The first cut drew blood, but my blade will snuff out this innocent’s life unless you yield.”

  “Shamon.” Merrick said.

  The Ukurum looked down at him. “Ah, there you are. I knew you couldn’t be far away.”

  “What have you done to her?”

  “She’s still alive, aren’t you my little butterfly?”

  Lotus’ eyes opened wide in response.

  “She has lost her voice. No matter, you can see that I tell the truth. Now—tell Jason to call off his dogs.”

  “Jason, do as he says,” Merrick said.

  “You don’t know what you’re asking,” Jason said. “If they escape with the scroll then countless lives will be lost, in this world and others. We cannot afford to let him go.”

  “Fuck you, Jason. This isn’t about your game-plan anymore. I trusted you and Karapetian but you’ve shafted me too many times. How long have you held the Simiatan?”

  Jason looked down. What was this, shame?

  “They’ve taken you for a fool,” Shamon said. “Enticed and used you from the start.” He turned to the Ukurum. “Now, to me my brethren.”

  The remaining handful of Ukurum stepped away from the Hierophants, giving the Simiatan a wide berth. It rested on its haunches, eyes glowering. A door opened on the side of the excavator allowing Shamon’s men to climb in.

  “This is a big mistake, Whyte. He’s going to kill her anyway. He has no use for her,” Jason said.

  “On the contrary,” Shamon said, “I have many uses for her. Tonight you have taken someone most precious to me.” He looked down at Sarlic’s twisted body. “And I intend to explore every facet of her body and mind.” He emphasised the point by licking the blood from Lotus’ neck.

  “Release her. Or you’ll regret you ever laid eyes on me,” Merrick said.

  Shamon laughed. “You have nothing to bargain with, Whyte. No, I rather think you will stand there impotent, while I and my men retreat. This is your weakness—you care. That’s why Karapetian has been able to use you, and why I know you won’t lift a finger against me.”

  Merrick could feel the situation slipping away, he mustered his resolve and felt the power rise within.

  “Do not even try,” Shamon said. “I can sense what you’re doing. Believe me, my blade can strike before you can release your mind-force.”

  The sirens declared the arrival of the police outside. Shamon looked over his shoulder and descended into the vehicle. Its diesel engine fired up and belched exhaust into the museum chamber.

  The turret lid slammed shut and the excavator descended back into the depths of the crater like a mechanical rat scuttling into its hole.

  Celestia appeared at the door. “The police are here, we have to leave,” she said.

  “Follow Shamon, we can’t let him get away,” Jason said. He gestured to the Simiatan, which leapt through the hole in pursuit. Jason’s men followed.

  Merrick looked at Celestia who said “We must leave.”

  She stumbled over the rubble, grabbing his arm and steering him towards the crater.

  “Hold it right there,” said an authoritative voice. They looked up and saw a line of armed police with weapons trained on both of them.

  “Take them out,” Celestia said. “We can’t afford to let them capture us.”

  Merrick screwed his eyes shut, then opened them. “I can’t. Too many have died tonight.” He sank to his knees, exhausted as the kevlar-clad police closed in and forced them to lie on the floor. As the handcuffs clicked over his wrists, Merrick felt a heavy internal door slam shut like a clap of doom.

  ~~~

  Chapter 17

  The last in line

  The pressure cooker sensation had returned to Merrick’s head. That was both bad and good news. Bad because he had to constantly keep it in check, and he was already over-weary. Good, because it meant he was charged with psychonautic energy again— much like a capacitor. There, he’d finally acknowledged who he was—a Psychonaut. He couldn’t ignore it any longer, and was prepared to use the power again, even if it was in anger.

  The police processed him and Celestia at the station and placed them in separate cells. Merrick paced up and down in the confined space, stopping at the bars every time he heard a footfall in the corridor.

  “Can someone tell me what’s going on here?” he shouted at one passing officer. The man gave him a contemptuous look and carried on his way, ignoring what he obviously saw as a deranged, binge-drunk casualty.

  He slammed the heel of his hand against the iron bars. Gathering his resolve, he tried once more to forge a mental link with Celestia, but there was nothing in the ether to grab hold of. She had a remarkable range of perception, but there wasn’t any guarantee that he could pick up on her, even if she detected him.

  Dammit, I’m just wasting time here. I need to find Lotus.

  What was the use of possessing extraordinary power if you couldn’t vent it on your opponents?

  After another ten minutes of foot-pounding, shouting and generally giving himself a headache, he finally slumped down on the hard bench, resting his head on the whitewashed brick.

  He had to calm down. So he did what he always did; allowed his thoughts to drift back to another time, another place ...

  “You see it now?” says BC

  Merrick refocuses the binoculars and homes in on the movement. They’re Zeiss—BC always chooses the best. He sees the dull brown bird hop across the leaf-strewn lawn and peck at beetles and grubs it finds underneath the beech-nut husks.

  “I see it,” he says. “Nearly missed it. It’s not much to look at.”

  His uncle wears his favourite Barbour jacket. It smells of oil and tobacco.

  “That’s the secret of its success.” BC sucks on his pipe and a small cloud of seasoned smoke curls upward. “You see, Merrick, survival is the
name of the game. Now you can take the approach of the blackbird or the starling. Loud, brash, chasing each other off to claim the choicest worm or slug. It can be a high risk strategy because sooner or later, however strong you are, you’re going to come up against someone your equal. Even if you win, you’re likely to get damaged. Remember the story I told you about Pyrrhus?”

  “The Greek?”

  “That’s the one. Now that small drab bird—even its name is dull—just bides it’s time, skulks around in the background, then hops in and eats the food no one else wants.”

  “Did you say it was called a hedge-sparrow?”

  “I prefer the name ‘Dunnock.’ Sparrows eat seeds, this one’s a carnivore.”

  Merrick lowers the binoculars and grins. “Doesn’t look very blood-thirsty.”

  “The last in line never do, but they’re the ones to look out for.”

  ~~~

  Two officers approached, breaking his train of thought. They opened the cell door and cuffed his wrists in front of him.

  “This way sunshine, you’ve got a few questions to answer,” said one of them.

  “I want to speak to my lawyer,” Merrick said.

  “All in good time matey-boy. You’re not in any position to make any demands,” said the other.

  “Actually, I am. I have the right to call a friend and to have a lawyer present,” he said.

  “Looks like we’ve got a smart-arse here, Chris.”

  “My life wouldn’t be complete without a smart-arse,” the first officer replied. “I was just thinking to myself, I could really do with someone telling me how to do my job at the end of a twelve hour shift. It just makes my day.”