Burnout stood with Slaver and La Sangre, hard mountain rock beneath their feet. From their vantage slightly upslope and a few hundred meters away, Burnout had a clear view of the whole compound. Assets, Inc. It was a small airstrip cut into the eastern cliff above Hells Canyon. The only buildings were a dilapidated hangar made of rusted sheet metal, an attached mobile home that looked like it dated back to before the turn of the century, and four smaller storage sheds.
Cyclone fencing surrounded the compound, but it was only necessary on the two flat sides. The other two were bounded by cliffs, one straight up and the other straight down, nearly two full kilometers to the bottom of the canyon.
They had been waiting for only thirty minutes since dropping down from the Aztechnology helicopter a few kilometers away. The 'copter's rigger had been instructed to stay out of sight until called upon.
"See anyone?" Slaver asked.
Burnout shook his head. He hadn't seen signs of anybody, and La Sangre's astral reconnaissance had come up dry as well. They were already gone. And Burnout couldn't help but think that all this wouldn't have been necessary if Slaver had only let him make his move back in Washington.
Ryan Mercury would be dead now. Mission accomplished.
He heard something then, in the distance, a low rhythmic harmonic. It grew louder and louder until he recognized it as a helicopter. "Someone is coming," he said.
" 'Bout fragging time," Slaver said. "Told you they'd come."
Burnout saw the helo at the same time as he felt the magic. Like a yearning force, like water to his parched throat.
Something on that helicopter was powerful, and Burnout wanted it. He felt the strength of it grow as the helo crested the cliff below the compound, rising up from the canyon, pivoting and touching down on the tarmac.
It drew him in like a mana vortex, a gritty knife edge that cut to his very heart. He knew he had to have it; no choice. Whatever it was, he must get it for himself. Perhaps it could restore his magic, perhaps not, but either way he would remain incomplete without it.
"Where are you going?" Slaver asked. "Frag, I can't take you anywhere."
Burnout turned, feeling the hatred tingling at his extremities. Hovering like a hidden beast just outside his awareness. Waiting to pounce. He realized then that he'd already taken several steps down the slope toward the compound.
"I'm going in for a closer look," he said.
"Not yet," Slaver said. "We wait until I get a positive ID. Too many of them right now anyhow."
Burnout shrugged and continued his descent.
La Sangre straightened, its flayed nostrils flaring, causing even more foul-smelling blood to drip from it. The spirit seemed to sense something was amiss.
"Drek for brains," Slaver said to Burnout, "get back here. Now."
The hatred hit, sending off little flares in Burnout's eyes. Tiny fireworks as he pivoted. The world seemed to click into slow motion around him. Recognition dawned on Slaver's face, but it was too late. Burnout crossed the distance between them in a fraction of a second, clicking his ankle spurs into position.
A spell went off just as Burnout kicked-a sweeping strike across the chest, diagonally up to one shoulder. A shock wave shook through him as the discharging spell threw him back. It felt as though a panzer had hit him. But the barb on his cyberspur had caught on Slaver's collar bone, lifting the mage's body into the air.
Blood spilled from the cut, pouring out like a river as Slaver mumbled spells to try and save himself. Burnout jerked his foot, trying to free the cyberspur, and as his foot came away, it ripped the bone with it, causing Slaver's neck to jerk with a sickening snap.
The drug tried to kick in just then, and Burnout knew it would hit. The chemical placator. In the seconds before he went placid, Burnout lifted the limp and mangled body of Slaver, then swung it in a wide, vicious arc. Slamming it against the unyielding surface of a large boulder.
There was blood everywhere, glistening red on the rocks. The satisfying crunch of bones inside Slaver's limp bag of skin came to Burnout's ears just as the drug hit. And with it came peace.
Next to him, La Sangre watched in fascination. He looked at Burnout. "Thank you for freeing me," he said. Then he disappeared.
Leaving Burnout alone. Content for the first time in as long as he could remember.
After a time, the yearning returned-his desire for the magic he felt in the compound below. And Burnout found himself on his feet, moving toward it, leaving the remains of his master behind for the scavengers.