Chapter 92

Chapter 92

Miles removed his bow from his shoulder and drew a coated arrow, knocking it and pulling the string taut, pressing the back door open slowly, as if a gust of wind or explosion had edged it open. Judging from his focus and the look in his eye, he was prepared to fire as soon as he had the spellsword in his sightline. At the same time, Talia made her move.

What was that?

All three heads turned towards the source of the noise, away from the backdoor.

I held my hand at my side.



snapped the crossbow into my hand as I aimed for the spellswords lower body and fired a bolt, just as Miles loosed his arrow. His bow had significantly more power than my crossbow, but that worked towards our purposes here.

The spellsworda cocky looking man wearing a fashionable tabard over jeans, immediately spun, dodging out of the way of Miles arrow. But he wasnt prepared for the follow-up shot, which planted itself in his thigh. He grunted and went down.

I sprinted forward, climbing a small railing and vaulting over it to subdue a man who appeared to be sorting something at a foldout table. flared as he reached beneath the table, drawing out a massive chrome handgun Id only ever seen the likes of in movies.

If that went off, everyone in the building would hear it, exterior conflict be damned.

It was either his hesitation or over-dedication to trigger discipline that saved me. I closed the distance in seconds, grabbing the barrel of the gun and slamming it upward into his forehead. He reeled back, stunned by the blow, and I used the opportunity to disarm him, pressing the release button and pulling back the slide just in case there was a round in the chamber. The round ejected from the top, clattering to the floor, and I dropped the gun after it.

In a blind panic, he dove for the gun, giving me an ample opportunity. I didnt know whether he had another magazine or not, but it didnt matter. I got the garrote around his neck and pulled, using my left hand as an anchor and applying leverage with my right.

One Mississippi.

Two Mississippi.

Miles was still dealing with his target. Id thought they would both be civilians, but the slimmer man had the foresight to open his inventory and prove me wrong, withdrawing two daggers. Miles skipped backward, drawing his blackjack. Just like back at the receptacle, he watched the mans eyes rather than his weapon.

The man lashed out at Miles chest. Miles shifted, keeping his feet planted, then swung his blackjack at the mans outstretched wrist. The man let out a cry of pain as his knife flew across the room, and another cry as Miles disarmed him, driving a fist into the mans jaw and sending him spinning like a top, catching him with the garrote before he could topple entirely.

Damn. Miles shook out his hand. We were both breathing hard, but the fight had clearly taken more out of me than him. He half jogged to the door, and placed his ear against it. Nothing. Were not blown. Thank god theyre making a decent racket out there. Casually, he reached up and grabbed the steel wire from the still hanging lamp, studying where it had severed and frayed. That was a hell of a shot. Id call you an idiot for trying it, but it worked.

Wasnt sure why hed just shrugged the sedative off, didnt want to waste another coating.

Could be a buff. Magic types have a lot more to play with than we do.

Yeah. I was leaning against the folding table heavily, and my eyes naturally tracked to its contents. Miles, I called in alarm.

There were dozens of wallets, clutches, and purses littering the table. Some of them were already cracked open, IDs removed and scattered around.

Well, one things for sure. They were definitely focused on Users. Miles took one look at the table and frowned, moving an assortment of junk aside and revealing a map beneath.

Theyre sorting them by region. I realized. But why?

Remember why you told me you wanted to keep the body-count down?

Because theyre our neighborsoh shit.

Region nine, six, and eleven. Lot of attention given to the IDs of people from those regions, while the rest are just scattered around. All regions are having difficulty filling their receptacles. Miles said grimly. And if those regions do fail

There wont be anyone left to find them. Or at the very least, people from those regions will have their hands full for quite some time. I said.

Miles crossed the room, grabbed a tarp covering something obtuse and awkwardly shaped, and yanked it off. There was a pile of weapons and armor beneath it.

Any chance theyre just robbing them? I asked, my voice strained.

No. Somethings tits-up in the state of Denmark. This is a processing area. Miles pointed back towards the door. They bring people through, identify them, strip them of weapons and armor. If the gear was the goal, theyd have it further in and locked down, or at least sorted. Instead, its an afterthought. Like they dont care if any of these three idiots happen to grab Dicks Compensating Longsword of Fertility and sell it on the market.

I was starting to form suspicions, but stayed silent.

Pre-dome, Id say we were dealing with human trafficking. Could still be that, but the way theyre doing thisunder the cover of the biggest disaster in US history? Could be way off base, but Miles clicked his tongue, and looked at me. Id bet good money theres a necromancer in the building.