Jak Koke - Clockwork asylum

He grinned and followed her inside.

Blood and music on the metaplanes.

Music, the sweet hurting light, growing dim.

Blood, the dank whispering darkness, spreading fast.

Lucero stood in her astral form. Just at the edge of the dark circle of black blood and basked in the painful beauty of the music and the light.

Alone.

She longed to take that final step. That ultimate plunge into brightness. Purity.

She edged closer. Closer. Until…

Without warning, Senor Oscuro appeared next to her. He collapsed down on one knee as if he were being crushed by a tremendous weight. Sweat prickled on his forehead, and the muscles in his face tensed in agony.

He gritted his teeth and stood. It seemed to take all his effort to touch her, though when he did, that touch was gentle. He pulled her back toward the center of the dark circle.

Where the blood was deepest.

"You… you are… holding up… well," he said.

Lucero almost screamed at the sound of that voice, but she forced herself to be calm. "If it please you, Master."

"It… pleases me."

The smell of blood filled her nostrils as the sound and the light from outside waned. Lucero felt the desire swell inside her again, but she resisted. She focused on the blinding light, on the terrible purity of the wondrous song.

So dull now. So distant.

A young boy appeared in the space next to Oscuro-a small boy of no more than thirteen with a rash of acne across his cheeks. The vacant look seemed to leave the child's eyes for a moment as Oscuro laid him down on an altar he'd constructed from the bodies of the first ten victims.

Oscuro grabbed a handful of the boy's hair, and pulled back viciously, exposing the soft young throat.

This one actually had time to emit a short, high-pitched whine before Oscuro's hand fell. The blood-covered knife cleaved the sound from the child's mouth, letting it end in a shrill whistle coming from the gaping windpipe.

Oscuro slapped his rough hand over the wound, slowing the flow of blood, and lifted the boy by the neck. Ignoring the twitches, he carried the body to the edge of the outer circle.

The strain was evident in the corded muscles of Oscuro's gore-drenched arms. Everything he did seemed to be a tremendous effort now, as if he had to fight the music just to keep moving. When Oscuro reached the edge of the outer circle, he removed his hand from the child's throat and let the blood flow. He traced the final meters of the circle in the thick gurgle of young life. When the circle was closed, the bright music faded even more.

Lucero did not know how much time passed as more and more sacrifices piled up along the edge of the ever-widening circle. All she knew was that in her heart she longed to leave this place. She wished to be given the strength to throw herself clear of the blood stain. Through the wall of darkness that stretched up at the edge of the stain. She yearned to plunge herself into the light.

Finally, Oscuro walked over to her as she crouched among the corpses. She was stunned and nearly catatonic from the shock of all the death, but as she looked at the dark human, she saw that he was worse.

Oscuro was in incredible pain, his face wracked with strain. As the dark part of her lightened, his struggle became harder. "Back at the teocalli, the Gestalt is weakening again," he said. "Too much… drain will kill them. They need to… rest."

Lucero nodded.

"You will… stay. I'll return when… when the Gestalt is stronger."

Then he was gone again.

More time passed around her. She knew not how much as she crawled her way gently over the strewn bodies, reaching the outer circle. She stopped at the edge, unable to move farther. She spoke to the light. "He is wrong," she said. "I am not strong. You have given me a strength far better than any blood magic. You have shown me that things can work for a greater good than I have ever known."

The music washed over her again, and she knew the dark spot inside her had lightened again. She heard the song and for a moment, she understood. The words were muffled, indistinct, but she knew that the song was holding back forces of horror and terrible evil. The song told her that the outcropping must never be made into a bridge.

The song reached into her mind and revealed that the dark circle threatened the light. The dark circle must be destroyed. Lucero must accept the stain on her soul and forgive herself.

She had passed the first challenge, had not let the bearded man seduce her. As she tried to hear more of the song, she knelt over the corpse at the edge of the bloody circle and reached out a hand to touch the outer barrier. She longed to stand and step from the circle, drown herself in that light, the music.

Lucero shook her head, and pulled back her hand. She knew that would accomplish nothing but alert Oscuro to her intent. "I will not fail you," she told the music. "I will stop this evil no matter what the cost." 21 August 2057

In the early morning shadows, deep in the heart of Hells Canyon, Ryan felt an edge of annoyance as Dhin made another pass over the landing site. The monstrous rock shelf that housed the Assets, Inc. compound three-quarters of the way up the sheer cliff face was torn by heavy winds that ripped through the canyon and played havoc with the plane's vertical touch-down.

The aircraft was an Embraer-Dassault Mistral-a fat-bellied cargo shuttle. The wind pushed her around like a cat toying with a mouse. In the cockpit, Ryan watched as the ground came close. Wind hammered at the fat body of the Mistral, threatening to push the heavy commuter craft off the landing mark and out into the canyon.

"Touch-down," said Dhin.

Ryan had to give the big ork credit. He barely seemed to feel the impact. He turned as he unbuckled his safety straps. "You're a steady chummer," Ryan said. "One second I thought we were going to take a big plunge, the next you got us down on the tarmac, safe and solid."

Dhin pulled the jack from his neck and sat upright. "You don't know how close we came to chewing rocks. Next time you want to head out in the middle of the night, scan me first. I'd have told Jane this old boat was too tight a fit for the landing pad here. This slitch handles like a street sam with too much liquor in him."

Ryan nodded. "Deal."

The ork finally grinned. "Let's get inside."

As they climbed from the seats, Ryan caught sight of Axler standing just outside the doorway to the main building. Wind tugged at her blonde hair and made the tail of her black trench coat flap. But no wind could mess with the impression of cool self-confidence she radiated.

Ryan gave her a grin she didn't return. All biz.

Ryan wasn't really looking forward to the next couple of hours. The runners still didn't completely trust his leadership, and were obviously annoyed that their only decent night's sleep in a week had been cut short by his telecom call.

Dhin had been more than a little upset about being rousted in the middle of the night, and his female ork companion hadn't seemed too thrilled either.

Secret Service agent Phelps had looked even more impressive naked than she had in her body armor, and Ryan couldn't help but wonder just where she'd hidden the Ingram SMG. But there she was, just behind the door when he'd entered. She hadn't bothered to lower the Ingram until Dhin, sitting up and rubbing his eyes, told her to knock it off.

On their way to the airport yesterday, the big ork had said something about going back to the alley to help Phelps with the decimated Eurocar. One thing had led to another, and another, and then another.

Ryan had been angry, not really at Dhin, but more at himself. Now that Phelps knew he was leaving the country, the Secret Service would be alerted. That meant Strapp would be all over Carla Brooks' hoop in a matter of hours. Still, it couldn't be helped.