Kaede’s plan had seemed simple enough when she told it to them over takeout food and beer, but now, waiting anxiously for the rest of her team to assemble, Jones felt like no plan would ever be enough. He paced, aware that Shasta was watching him but unable to stop; he had to do something or explode from the stress of waiting. He kept one hand on his gun as he walked, fingers curled around the solid butt of it, and it provided some measure of comfort; enough that he could almost ignore the maddening itch from the brand on the inside of his wrist.
“Jones, would you sit your narrow ass down?” Shasta said finally. “You’re making me dizzy.”
Jones ignored him, turning away from one end of the room and starting back down to the other. The rhythmic pacing was almost hypnotizing and he was just beginning to relax when Shasta grabbed his arm and shoved him down on the couch, holding him there by his shoulders.
“I said quit pacing.” He gave his crooked grin. “Don’t make me sit on you.”
“Don’t even try it,” Jones said, but he didn’t try to get back up. After a moment Shasta let go of him and slumped down on the couch beside him, absently rubbing at his chest.
“The waiting is the worst part, Jonesy. Before you know it things will be exploding by your head and you’ll wish you were back here sitting on the couch. Kaede doesn’t do things by halves.”
“I don’t care what she does, as long as it works.” Jones started to get up then caught sight of Shasta’s expression and sprawled back out, searching for something to say that would distract him. “How’d you meet Shiki anyway?”
“Oh, we grew up together. Kind of. More like he spent a lot of time babysitting me. My parents were good friends with Aunt Kaede and Shiki’s dad. Then when my parents died, Aunt Kaede took me in.”
“Does she know what you do for work?”
“Kinda. She knows I do odd jobs. I like it,” Shasta added defensively. “Pays well, and it’s usually pretty interesting.”
“Glad to know killing me counts as pretty interesting.”
“Aww, Jonesy, I never wanted to kill you in the first place. I’ve never taken a job to kill anyone before, it’s just...” Shasta shrugged. “The Collector has some stuff on me, that’s all. I owe a whole lot of favours.”
“So he’ll be coming after you too.”
“Maybe. The Collector does what The Collector wants.”
“We’re going to talk about this more later,” Jones said, spotting Kaede coming towards the living room. He got to his feet, ignoring Shasta’s groan, and went to meet her.
“Ready to go?” Kaede asked, pulling on a pair of leather gloves. She gave a fleeting smile when he nodded. “Good. Take this.” She handed him a slim black object that looked like a cell phone and a heavy pouch about the size of both of his fists together. “The phone is how you’re getting out with Drae. The number’s preprogrammed so just hit the 1 key. In the pouch are mini-detonators. They’ll vaporize anything they’re attached to so for the love of all that’s holy, be careful. Don’t forget, all you’re doing is getting in, getting Drae, and getting out. Let me worry about Emily. Got it?”
He studied her face and nodded. “Just get her.”
She ruffled his hair, making him feel a bit like a child again, though he was a good two inches taller than her and she had to reach up to do it. “Trust me.”
He bit back a sarcastic retort and just nodded again. Kaede patted his cheek and went to talk to Shasta about his part in the plan, which was to get Shiki out, then led them out of the house. They were met by her team, a handful of other dreamwalkers she said she often worked with; she introduced them all by name but Jones barely listened and forgot who they were almost as soon as they’d said hello. A small part of him felt guilty but more of his mind was on his upcoming third—and hopefully last—trip to Edgemount Research Centre.
Kaede took them all, moving the entire group from her house to the empty parking lot behind the facility without even breathing hard. Immediately her team spread out and moved towards the building in a full-out attack, hitting the security safeguards and disabling them before the alarms could go off. Kaede put a restraining hand on Jones’s shoulder to keep him from rushing in right away, and sent Shasta in first.
“Go,” she said softly when Shasta had disappeared into the building. “Good luck, Jones.”
He paused just long enough to take her hand and give it a quick squeeze, then he pulled one of his guns from its holster and ducked in through the back door. He could smell smoke already, and from somewhere nearby came the dull thump of an explosion. For a moment he looked in that direction, then he started down the hallway at almost a jog, trusting in instinct to tell him when to stop.
He was about to round a corner when the brand on his wrist stopped being itchy and started being painful enough to make him stagger and stop. An instant later a guard came round the corner from the other side, gun at the ready. Jones kicked him in the knee as hard as he could, bringing him down, and knocked him out with the butt of the gun without even thinking about it.
As he stepped over the guard’s body, another explosion lit up the hallway on his other side and he saw the brief flash of fire. He could hear yelling now, and once the chatter of machine-gun fire, followed by the loud pops that came from a pistol similar to his own. For a moment he was reminded so strongly of his first real firefight that he was actually there, panting in the shelter of a hill while mortar fire exploded overhead. The smoke was getting thicker by the second and he wondered just what the hell Kaede’s friends were up to, then he started moving again.
The air got hotter around him as he moved through the hall and he could feel sweat plastering his shirt to his back; wherever the fire was it must be close, though he couldn’t yet hear it or see it. The brand on his wrist still ached, a deep throbbing pain that made the muscles around it twitch. He rubbed it against the strap on the pouch Kaede had given him and kept his pace at a jog, until he came to a door at the end of the hall. When he tried the door he found it was locked, and it only cemented his certainty that this was where they were keeping Drae. Wiping sweat off his forehead—leaving a streak of soot across his skin—he carefully took one of the detonators out of the pouch.
It was a small round object about the size of his palm, with a thick length of plastic attached to the back. Small instructions printed on the plastic told him to strip it off, stick the detonator to the object he wanted to blow up, and move at least a hundred yards away in the thirty seconds before it went off. The whole thing looked more like some sort of strange toy than a weapon but Jones didn’t see that he had a choice about trying to use it. Taking a deep breath, Jones yelled through the door for Andraeon to stay back and yanked the plastic off. He slapped the detonator to the door and bolted down the hall, turning back to watch once he’d reached a spot he judged was safe.
For a few seconds nothing happened and he began to wonder if the thing wasn’t going to work at all. Then it gave off a small beep and flashed red, and the door exploded into sawdust before his eyes. Thick black smoke filled the hallway and rolled over him, followed by a wave of heat that made him wince. He tucked his chin into the collar of his shirt and pushed through the smoke until he found the edge of the doorway and stepped through.
Relief swept through him when he saw Andraeon standing by the bed, wide-eyed and pale but unharmed. Another explosion behind him made him jump a little and look over his shoulder, then he holstered the gun he’d automatically pulled when he went through the doorway and held his hand out to Andraeon.
“Take my hand, Drae. Now.”
He saw the uncertainty on Andraeon’s face but after a slight hesitation, Andraeon reached out and laced their fingers together. Jones pulled him in and wrapped an arm around his waist, then pressed the 1 key on the cell phone as hard as he could. It dialled out and began to ring, and he had enough time to think that this time it really wasn’t going to work, then the entire room twisted away into darkness. It only lasted a few seconds and when he managed to focus again, they were standing on Kaede’s back porch in the blessedly cool night air.
Andraeon’s knees gave out suddenly and his sudden heavy weight brought Jones down to the porch’s boards with him. They sprawled awkwardly out on the wood until Jones managed to sit properly and pull Andraeon into his arms. Andraeon flung both arms around his neck, hugging him so tightly Jones could hardly breathe, and even when he finally sat back a little, he held onto Jones’s hand with both of his own.
“I didn’t think you’d come.” He searched Jones’s face. “I thought you’d just be happy you had Emily back.”
“None of it was real,” Jones said. “The woman running this whole mess did... some sort of spell on me that made me forget everything. And it wasn’t... Emily I brought out with me. I don’t know what it was.”
“So you had to go back for the real Emily.”
“And just grabbed you on the way? Don’t be an idiot, Drae.” Jones fought down a surge of anger. “I came back for you. And all I can do now is trust that Shiki’s mother can get Emily out.”
“I’m sorry,” Andraeon said after a moment. He raised Jones’s hand and kissed his knuckles. “It’ll work out, you’ll see.”
“I hope so.” Jones freed his hand so he could put his arm around Andraeon, pulling him in so Andraeon’s head could rest on his shoulder. “I swear I would have come for you either way.”
Andraeon said nothing but the tension in his body gradually eased, his hunched shoulder muscles relaxing under Jones’s arm. Jones glanced at him and saw he’d closed his eyes, dozing off out of pure exhaustion. Leaning over a bit, Jones kissed his temple, then went back to watching the broad, empty expanse of the back garden, waiting for Kaede to come home.
The soft sound of the wind brought him out of a doze he hadn’t realized he’d fallen into, and he opened his eyes to see Kaede step out of thin air. She was sweaty and grimy, her clothes torn and dried blood crusted over one eye, but on one hip she carried a skinny little girl with her mother’s generous mouth and his own blue-grey eyes—Emily.
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