Blacksand was a city in transition, a place h obbled together by refugees, outcasts, deserters and nomads. Its architecture was a mishmash of scrap and converted caravan vessels, broken-down airships and jury-rigged freighters. Plates of steel and stone had been fused together by mercenary warlocks to provide the semblance of outer walls. Loose agreements between var ious gangs, merchant bands and T he Shard helped maintain a semblance of order, but since the city catered to so many travelers and bizarre tribes like the Mektesh and the Dorai’mara’kaar, as well as sea brigan ds from the distant Nezek’duul I slands across the Ebonsand Sea, Blacksand treaded the fine line between being cosmopolitan and just being completely disorganized.
Danica had a good view of both the pier and the dark waters through the dingy window. I ron tugboats churned through the polluted bay, and massi ve crates of boxed goods swung in webbed cargo nets. The dipping sun shone rust red on the glassy waves. T he spiked city walls loomed to the north, and corbelled towers statio ned all along the docks rotated in place as their motorguns scanned the waters for signs of trouble.
She and Klos Vago sat at a corner table in The Blood Rose, which was a cross between a brothel, a t avern and a gambling den. Purple smoke made her eyes sting, and t he air was heady with fish oil and musk, overcooked po tatoes and watered down alcohol.
The Blood Rose was essentially a dual-level bar with small private tables in the upper seating area and dozens of crude wooden tables on the lower level. Everything was crafted from red and black wood, and the place was brightly illuminated by open windows and grill-covered skylights. P ortions of greasy seafood were served in trays lined with brown paper. The atmosphere was muggy and tasted of overcooked fish and tobacco.
Danica saw merchants and drifters, mercenaries and killers, laborers, ex-slaves and runaways. It was a place filled with the dregs of the borderlands, people who didn’t fit in — or else who didn’t want to fit in — with the Southern Claw’s laws and plans. Looking at the displaced clientele reminded her of how far she and the team still had to travel.
It feels like it’s been years since we’ve been home, she thought. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the fact that s he thought of the team’s mansion in Thornn as “home”.
She looked ac ross the table at Vago. He wasn’ t a remotely attractive human being in any sense of the word. His scarred face was held together with jagged stitches, and his mismatched eyes sparkled with thaumaturgic augmentations. He was tall and broad-shouldered, and so incredibly thick in his chest and arms that the lower half of his body looked puny by comparison. His thin black hair was pasted back against his scalp, and he had a preposterously pugnacious jaw. He wore dark leather armor, tall black boots laced up with metal straps, and a. 44 magnum in a shoulder-holster.
“You know that I hate you, right?” Danica asked.
“ Yes. I know,” he answered. He always smiled, and that just made him more hideous. His teeth were rotted from alcohol and tobacco, and he ground them when he spoke. His voice was thick, like he had a throat full of glass. “And that’s too bad, Danica. I find you intoxicating.” He took a drink and puffed on a massive cigar that smelled like a burning boat.
“Awesome,” she said, and she took a drink of her black bomber. Danica also dressed in dark leather armor. S he wore a pair of katar s under her long armored coat and a Colt Python in a shoulder holster. It took a lot of willpower on her part not to use either of them on Vago, especially since his unnaturally beady eyes didn’t seem capable of pulling away from her chest.
The fish at The Blood Rose was supposedly the freshest in the city, and they offered their watered down drinks at a cheaper rate than almost anywhere else in Blacksand.
Danica wouldn’t touch the fish. Being in Vago’s presence had effectively quelled any notion of hunger.
“Have I mentioned that I’m a lesbian?” she said bluntly.
“Once or twice. ” H e managed to both growl and smile at once. “Did it occur to you that might be why I find you so interesting?”
Danica thought about that. She lit a cigarillo — the decision she’d made a couple of years back to quit smoking had been almost entirely forgotten in light of recent events — and took another drink. The bomber tasted meaty in her throat, like she’d taken a fresh drink of blood from a kill.
Weird. I haven’t thought about that in a long time. The last time she’d been hunting had been with Cradden, back when they were both kids in what used to be North Carolina. It was one of the few things she and her brother had been able to do and actually enjoy one another’s company, even if it had only been because they had to watch each other’s backs with Dad around.
“If you mean to imply that you intend for to hook me up with one of your bimbette s, you can friggin’ forget it.”
“Danica,” Vago smiled. His accent wa s heavy, something European. “Do you know why I have taken you and your friends under my wing?”
“‘Under your wing?’” Danica laughed. “Are you kidding me? You have us doing free work for you. ”
“In exchange for my help.”
“We were supposed to be gone already,” she said. “If you would’ve helped us out quickly like you promised, my friends and I wouldn’t be hip-deep in shit right now.”
“You should count yourself lucky,” Vago said slowly. “Your Revenger friends want you. Badly. And I’m the only thing standing in their way.”
He was right, but she’d never admit it. From what little information she’d been able to get out of him, T he Revengers had come to the area near Blacksand for some other purpose, but something or some one had tipped them off about Danica’s presence. Now that they knew she was there they stuck to the area like glue. Danica had never heard of the wardens operating this far south before, but she supposed they’d been bound to run out of easy places to find inmates sooner or later, and the borderlands were a perfect place for harvesting new workers for the mines.
“ After my team gets back, we’re leaving,” Black said. She took another drink, knowing what came next.
“Yes,” he smiled. “ Of course.” He didn’t even bother trying to sound sincere.
Danica didn’t think he actually wanted to sleep with her, or for her to sleep with anyone else. He didn’t really want anything except for her to understand that he could do whatever he wanted, and that she and her friends had no room to negotiate.
I’ve met plenty of men like you. It ’ s all about the power play.
Using Vago’s equipment, Danica had confirmed the large number of Killraven and Black Dog units patrolling Blacksand’s perimeter. Vago’s witches had cast incredibly powerful nullifying enchantments that kept Danica from being detected, but the magic had been specifically crafted only to function while she was in Vago’s proximity. Until Black and the others finished their period of indentured service, they were stuck. T here was no way the y could take on so many Revengers.
“I should be with my team,” she said as she pushed her food away. She’d never been a fan of fish, especially fish that smelled like it had been overcooked and soaked in an extra lair of grease.
“ Danica,” Vago smiled. “ D id it ever occur to you why they might be looking for you?”
“I know exactly why they’re looking for me,” she said.
The Revenger’s perpetual quest for money and power pushed them to do horrible things. It was alarming how quickly even new recruits lost their grip on humanity, and how easy it became for them to disregard the lives they took. She only had to close her eyes for a moment to clearly see Black Scar in her memory: halls of reeking steel and b urning cages, deep pits filled with slick red mud, a choking haze of diamond dust, and the screams of the dying in the steam-blasted halls. The wardens had dug through black rock to a world below, a place filled with raw minerals and gems that kept them comfortable and isolated, rich beyond measure but segregated from the rest of humankind.
She wanted s o badly to leave that place behind, but she knew a part of her would always be trapped there.
Contrary to what she said, Danica wasn’t entirely sure why T he Revengers were trying to find her. She had trouble believing Rake would go through so much trouble over a deserter.
She looked behind Vago and saw his bodyguards, a pair of thick-necked and well-muscled men with long knives and auto-pistols. Danica was surprised he didn’t object to her carrying weapons in his presence, but then she remembered she wasn’t technically his prisoner.
It just seems like it.
“There ’ s an event today,” Vago said as he cracked open a shellfish and slurped out its pasty white innards with his considerable tongue. Danica tried not to look, but the sound he made while he ate was thoroughly nauseating. “I would like you to accompany me.”
“Gosh, could I?” she said flatly. She finished her black bomber, and their waitress brought her another. Danica drank it without hesitation. Her spirit hugged tight against her skin, and she felt him burn with disapproval — she’d already had several of the stout licorice-flavored drinks, and every time she imbibed another he had to clear the alcohol from her blood with a jolt of arcane energy. H e was gentl e enough with Black to cleanse her system without making her vomit, but h is treat ment became slightly less friendly with each subsequent drink.
She’d had to keep him reigned in, and that made them both uncomfortable. The Revengers undoubtedly ha d hunter witches keyed in to hi s particular arcane signature, and even with Vago’s so-called protection, using him for even the simple act of burning the liquor out of her body was living danger ously.
Gargoyles soared overhead, hired muscle used by Vago to keep the peace in Blacksand. From what Danica had seen on the streets and in the docks, they weren’t terribly good at their job.
Someone started the arcane jukebox in the corner. A heavy guitar riff blasted over unintelligible vocals.
“Are n’t you going to ask what sort of event we’re going to?” Vago asked with a smile.
“No,” Black said. “I don’t have much of a choice but to go. It doesn’t mean I have to care. ” She leaned in closer to him. “We’ve been here for almost three weeks, Vago. And while I appreciate your helping us, we are paying you back by assisting your lackeys with every shitty job you throw our way. Now you want to use me as arm candy to go to some gambling den or to make a public appearance at a pit-fight. But know this: my team and I are leaving. And we’re going to do it s oon.” She sat back and took another drink. “And if you try to stop us, you’re going to pay.”
He smiled. His face stretched. T haumaturgic grafts had been laced into his flesh to protect his body from long-term exposure to caustic coastal winds and to shield his mind from psychic intrusion. He looked like an intelligent zombie.
“You are a remarkable creature,” he smiled.
“Yeah. I get that a lot. So…” She lit another cigarillo. God, I do n’t need to get hooked on these again. “Since clearly you’re just dying to tell me…w hat’s the event?”
“A race.”
“Oh, goody,” she said. “Chickens?”
“ Automobiles,” he smiled.
“Oh. G oody.”
Blacksand’s racing arena was a tall and columnar structure made of red steel and dark stone. T he stadium seats were arranged at such a steep angle Danica felt sure she’d tumble out of the stands and back down to the central racing pit if she didn’t step careful ly. Spectators packed the complex. They were ruddy-face d and sweaty-palmed drifters, merchants and runaway soldiers. People desperately clutched cash and coins in their dirt-caked hands, and t heir faces were dank with sweat and industrial oil.
F ueling pits billowed thick plumes of gritty steam. Exhaust and heat turned the air hazy and thick. The arena hummed and vibrated.
Danica, Vago and his bodyguards were seated on the uppermost balcony of the stadium seats, a semi-private box that hung precariously out into open air. Danica felt the sting of salt wind and saw churning clouds in the distance.
The height at which they sat was truly dizzying. H ard winds came in from the sea and shook the structure. The seats were made of hard metal and covered with loose red blankets and imitation wool that smelled like goats. Black didn’t want to use her spirit to shield her self from the cold, so she pulled her armored coat tight and did her best to ignore it.
“I don’t like being this exposed,” she said to Vago. The box was separated from the nearest seats b y metal rails, but she and Vago were plainly visible to everyone around them. “I thought the idea of hiding was to keep a low profile.”
“My dear Danica,” Vago smiled. “You must trust me. I’ve hidden people before. The best place to hide is in plain sight.”
“ It’s also the best place to go if you want to get shot in the face,” she said.
Their seats were located a good 300 feet over the race track. Black was able to make out a surprising number of details from their vantage, like the fact that human skulls bordered the road and that the names of prominent dead racers had been carved or slashed into the concrete.
The growl of revving engines shook the arena. Massive vehicles crafted from black steel and magically hardened bone drove up to the starting line. Tail pipes spat spectral-laced smoke. The vehicles sported a rmor plate, gigantic ram blades and massive chain-wrapped wheels. Drivers buried beneath thick leather and iron helmets looked up and salute d the crowd, which had worked itself to frenzy. Money exchanged hands as bets were placed. People rushed to their seats.
Danica and her spirit felt more tension in the air than excitement. The spectators expected someone to die, and based on what Black saw that was exactly what they were going to get.
The racers were all highly stylize d showmen with bizarre costumes, bull horn helmets and purple and black face-paint, fetishist leather zipper masks or flamboyant gladiator steel. One racer was dressed up like a psychotic clown with fangs, and he had blood on his button nose and his oversized lips; another was dressed like a dystopian vampire opera singer, complete with a top-hat and a cane carved out of bone. Their cars were grungy and dark, covered in blood and oil and armed to the teeth with blades and melee weapons (no projectiles were allowed, as the risk of injuring the crowd was too great). M any of the vehicles bore logos and stylized designs like leering faces or skull-and- crossbones or scantily clad women with bat’s wings.
An announcer came over the crackling intercom and announced each racer and his vehicle. Barely dressed showgirls smiled and waved at the crowd as they marched across the arena floor with excessive banners.
Danica found the entire scene preposterous. It reminded her of the death races they’d held at Black Scar, only this event was jovial, and someone might actually survive.
A blaring horn s ounded, and the race began.
A dune-buggy equipped with blade d ram plate s quickly took the lead as it knocked a retrofitted Trans Am into the wall. A thick red truck so loaded down with armor it was a wonder it could even move bullied its way into the middle of the pack, followed closely by an El Camino with saw blades in its grill.
While she watched the race from their dizzying perch, Danica noticed that others were watching her, merchants and black marketers, mercenaries and drug dealers, all associates of Vago’s who were clearly impressed by the “date” he ’d brought to the races.
I’m surprised he didn’t ask me to wear a cocktail dress, she thought bitterly.
Crashes sounded up from the arena and shook the narrow stadium. The crowd roared as the El Camino skid, fishtailed and spun into a massive spike in the wall. The vehicle ripped apart in a shower of steel and blood.
Danica looked up. Something was wrong. She wasn’t sure what, but she sensed something, some presence at the periphery of her vision.
The crowd roared. Another crash sounded down below. Three of the nine cars had already wrecked.
She smelled acid in the wind. Danica felt off- balance as the chaos of motion and sound twisted around her. Normally she ’d have used her spirit to fight off th e feeling, but she didn’t dare, not with how exposed they were.
God damn it, Vago, it’s like you want me to get caught.
That thought didn’t settle well with her. She was already suspicious of their so-ca lled “host”, and s he wouldn’t have put it past him to arrange her capture, so long as he saw a profit in the deal.
Her spirit burn ed against her skin. H e ’d detected something, some danger, and he wasn’t about to sit idly by while it got closer.
Danica hadn’t actually seen anything except for a shimmer in the air, a faint disturbance, like a shadow had pass ed in front of the sun. W hatever it was, it was gone now, lost in the cacophony of shouts and coins. People held their drinks high as another vehicle was demolished in a blast of red fire and black smoke.
Her spirit wrapped around her. If there were any Revengers nearby they’d detect her in seconds, but at that moment she didn’t care.
S omething had already found her.
M etal rip ped open the air. S omething oozed through the wound in the atmosphere and seeped through like sick honey.
Danica sent h er spirit into the crowd to find out what the intruder was. I t s presence filled her with dread. She felt like she’d stepped through a cold waterfall.
S he drew a katar and wrapped it with vitriolic energy. Danica felt eyes on her. Vago shout ed at her to sit down. H is bodyguards step ped close, but she shot them a look that made them back off.
Her spirit’s vision broke things down to their baser elements. Danica looked through a lens of blood and saw through people’s skin and bones and sensed their life energy. She noted the hexed security measures in the arena, measures that hadn’t been enough to keep this creature out.
It came into view: the murderwraith. To everyone else’s eyes it was a tall human male, slightly heavyset with thick fingers and a balding pate. He wore workman’s clothes and was armed with nothing more than a racing sheet and a mug of green beer.
But through the eyes of her spirit Danica saw the alien presence for what it truly was: walking ooze, a monstrous pile of human-shaped slime and gelatin that stood some ten feet tall.
Eyes like bleeding winter narrowed as the slimy brute flew at her. The smoking wraith expanded, stre tched and fused with the clouds before it condensed into a solid fog giant. H ooked blades took shape at the ends of its cumulus appendages.
Danica felt ice vapors curl away from her skin. The rotting wind carried the taste of s pectral drool. Claws like scissors unfolded from the murderwraith’s form.
Her spirit shifted to a column of dark fire. Heat flushed her arms. Her vision narrowed and focused as r age burned in side her.
The murderwraith howled. Knife claws shot towards Danica’s heart and came so close her skin went blue from its icy aura. Steaming t eeth evaporated as the carnivorous ghost exhaled clouds of white frost.
The wraith’s leering inhuman face collapsed as she blasted through it with a spiral of ebon flame. I ts phantom body r etreated in a blast of dead fog.
People screamed and ducked and moved out of the way. Danica was thankful no one had been injured by the blast — it had shot straight through the creature and off into empty air.
“What the hell are you doing?” Vago shouted. His bodyguards stood nearby.
They can’t see it, she realized. They haven’t detect ed it at all. An undead that powerful shouldn’t have been invisible.
“I was being attacked…” she started to say, but a wailing klaxon drowned out her voice.
A Killraven squad flew into view from around a nearby building.
God damn it! That thing was just a scout, calling me out, forcing me to defend myself so they could lock onto my arcane signature.
“You ’re on your own then, you stupid bitch!” Vago shout ed. His bodyguards pulled him back, and they vanished into the crowd.
Shit.
Danica pulled her spirit in and pushed her way down the aisles as the Killravens drew close. Vago was already gone. She was alone.
The Killravens moved fast. S he saw their grey-blue armor and bladed wings draw within 100 yards. Smoke poured from exhaust panels in the bottom s of the armor packs, and their bladed gauntlets crackled with arcane power. A small cluster of scout homunculi accompanied the eight-man crew and fill ed the air like a swarm of enormous bats. The Killravens spread out and dodged through the steel cables and wire mesh that linked Blacksand’s taller structures together.
“Bitch!”
Someone in the crowd shot at Danica with a. 357 Magnum. People shouted and scrambled out of the way. Danica knocked the gunner a side with a sweep of ic y wind.
Another spectator armed with a knife came at her, and Danica ducked beneath his blow and struck him backhanded, then kicked him in the solar plexus and sent him t o the ground.
Her spirit flushed against her skin and shielded her like armor. He’d been cooped up for too long, held inactive and hidden away, and now his anger flooded to the surface like a tidal wave. I t would be all but impossible to hold him back.
The stadium exploded into madness. People ran for safety, but since most of the crowd was armed random gunshots rang out as people attacked what ever they thought the threat was. Luckily, only a few of those shots were directed at Danica. Her spirit deflected stray bullets and fists as she pushed her way towards the edge of the upper seating platform. S he leapt over the side.
Wind rushed up at her. H er spirit push ed up and against her with ethereal force so that she fell in slow motion. H er stomach turn ed inside out. A drenaline and fear raced through her body as she plummeted through exhaust and explosive fumes.
Even s hielded, jolts of pain shot up Danica’s legs as she landed down on the mid-section seating area. She rolled forward into an open aisle. Her heart pounded. The air smelled like fear.
Danica ran down the aisle towards the exits. Many of the people in th e section she’d landed in were still in their seats in spite of the cacophony up above.
T he fighting hadn’t actually halted the race, but there were only a handful of vehicles left on the track. A monstrous truck armed with jagged horns ploughed through a dark van as they turned a corner, and t he crash rattled the stadium.
A Black Dog patrol waited next to the near est exit. Danica saw t hree Revengers and a trio of Blood Dogs, smaller versions of Blood Wolves that were specially bred at Black Scar to hunt down escaped prisoners. Their ebon skin and slathering jaws snapped at her as she came close.
Spectators looked out from the nearby aisles, confused. T he black-masked Revengers leveled their weapons and ordered her to halt.
Danica sent her spirit forward as a rush of cold wind and knock ed t he Revengers back. T wo of the Blood Dogs pushed past her spirit and came at her with snapping jaws. Their collars crackled with hex energies.
Black pulled out her katars, went to her knees and sliced into both hounds at once. H ot blood splashed on her cheeks and face as t heir bodies slid past her.
The third dog charged, and before she could move its teeth ripped into her leg. She swiped and kicked the beast.
Gunshots rang out. Revengers armed with MP5As and auto-shotguns ran into the seating section behind her. She saw a warlock among their ranks, and she wasted a moment wondering if she knew him before she turned on her heels and ran.
B ullets struck the ground behind her. T he Revengers chased Danica right to th e edge of the rac e track, a massive circle of grey and black concrete littered with dirt. S teel walls lined with blades and flaming obstacles wrapped around a network of shifting metal platforms and collapsing barricades of electric chain.
Revengers came at her from the opposite side, and she saw the shadow s of Killravens from above. Her spirit whipped around her like a molten tide. She kept him close and wound him around one of her katars while she drew her Colt Python. Danica looked into the haze of dirt an d vehicular fumes.
There was an exit on the far side of the track, almost directly opposite from where she stood.
Bullets hit the ground. A ricochet caught a spectator in the eye, and he fell screaming. Panic surged through the crowd like wildfire. People leapt from their seats and pointed at the Revengers and fell back as more Blood Dogs came at her.
Danica leapt over the fence and onto the track. Her lungs swelled with black vapors as she ran as fast as she could across the mud and dirt. An armored truck narrowly missed her as she sped across its path, and s he heard it twist and fishtail behind her. Something buried itself in the ground to her right, an electrified lance connected to a razor cable.
She dodged m etal monstrosities and wove through bursts of smoke. The air explode d all around her, and any second Danica expected an armored wheel or a blast of arcane power to strike her down. Her spirit forced her to keep moving, propelled her around spinning blade towers and beneath whirling flame whips.
A truck with a spiked grill burst through the grey smoke. Danica’s heart jumped. She pushed her fists together and dug her feet into the earth. H er spirit turned in to a jagged lance of frost and flew into the vehicle. The truck snapped and folded inward like it had struck an unbreakable iron pole. M etal and rubber wrapped around her body. She found herself unharmed at the center of a steel cocoon.
S he used her spirit to blast her way free. D ebris and smoking stone rained down. Most of the other racing vehicles were gone, and p eople rush ed for the exits. Revengers shot down spectators in an effort to get to Danica.
She ran. Her spirit threw a Killraven aside as he swooped in low. His thaumaturgic pack snapped, and dark smoke trailed his body as he flailed out of control and flew into a steel wall.
A bola snapped around her feet. Danica fell hard onto her face.
Her spirit whipped back and knocked two Killravens aside while Danica cut through the cord with a katar. Blood seeped out of open cuts where the razor bola had torn through her cargo pants, and she felt poison spread painfully through her veins.
She ran up to a downed Killraven. He tried to rise, but Danica kicked him hard enough to send blood all over the inside of his helmet, ripped away his MP5 and fired back at t he Revengers.
Blood Dogs and their h andlers pushed through the bloodied crowd. The air was heavy with exhaust and gasoline.
Danica ’s stomach clenched as her spirit purged the poison from her blood. She ran for the exit. E very muscle ached like they’d been hit with ham mers. Her heart pounded so hard her chest felt ready to split.
An explosion tore into the stadium overhead. Drifts of stone dust fell over her eyes and face. The gun was empty, so Danica dropped it and held her spirit tight i n her hands, where he burn ed like explosive gel. T he air was filled with a choking cloud of metal and stone debris.
An enormous clawed arm came out of nowhere and knocked Danica back. Stone slammed against her skull. Her head swam, and h er spirit reeled. H e’d shielded her from what should have been a killing blow.
A massive simian beast stepped over her. Eight-feet tall and as a wi de as a truck, the black — skinned and gorilla-like creature had six powerful arms and fierce canine jaws. A gold battle mask covered its face. Claws the color of milk had been sharpened to razor points, and the creature’s hind feet ended in reptile-like talons that gripped the earth and kept its top-heavy bulk stable.
It was a Talon, one of a number of mutated gorilla s bred and controlled by the Revengers to act as enforcers and pack mules. It s tepped forward. Its growl chilled her blood.
Danica leapt to her feet and lashed at the beast with her spirit. An acid whip sliced the creature’s mask apart and cut open one of its eyes. T he brute howl ed in pain. Even injured, it came at her.
Black could barely see. She desperately fused her spirit into a coil of frost and wound it around the Talon’s enormous limbs. It tried to break free, and Danica strained at the pressure it placed on her spirit. Her vision faded in and out. Blood ran down her face and into her eyes.
Something struck her from behind, and e verything went dark.