Page 20 of Ghoul Huntress (Maelstrom Duology #2)

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Dawn was still hours away. As she flew over the unnamed quarter, Cyn surveyed the enemy forces. Pitiful, really.

She rained down flame then unslung her rifle and coolly reloaded it, after which she sprayed a good amount of flechettes upon the heads and tentacles of those below. Aliens and people died and disintegrated. Blood spattered their uneven terrain. There were few humans left here, though it seemed they had still been made to grow fields of crops.

Once upon a time she’d been like them. Vegetarians for the win, unless… she wondered if the humans were ever fed other humans. Ugh.

She waited to see what moved.

Her prolonged barrage had blown away most of the guards and the Ghoul Lords—of which in total there were five… had been, five. Cyn landed, boots skipping over the debris before she found a firm, stable place to stand. The rogue queen’s lumpy mound reigned over the Topscape, like a slumped wedding cake over a table. The total surface area here was small compared to Warrior Quarter.

Firing in bursts on the last few guards who were plainly confused by the lessening Lure, she padded nearer, knowing that only one Ghoul Lord remained beyond the mound. She’d sensed this one from above—Avidex, he named himself, and she’d stabbed the monster once, long ago. He’d tried to kill her at least twice.

This night she’d finish killing him… it.

The humans were mostly dead, caught in her remorseless spray of flame and flechette rounds. A few crawled nearby, whimpering. Cyn ignored them. This Ghoul Lord she hunted was different, judging by its mental signature, and she was not about to fail at this last hurdle.

Different in a very strange way.

She stalked nearer, walking in a curve to circle the queen mound.

The first moving thing she saw, past the queen, resembled a naked human. Cyn lit up her hand and softly walked closer, her boots crunching on gravel. No Ghoul Lord could hurt her, not by itself. It had tentacles, she had fire, brimstone, a rifle, and Willow, and a few sundry knives.

Then she stopped, halted dead as the creature ahead turned to face her.

“Willow?” Fuck, this was impossible, and she spied the umbilicus-like tissue leading around the corner. That was joined to the Avidex alien.

Her eyes began to weep red fire, motes raining down, and her hands trembled with anticipation of this kill. How dare it desecrate her friend. She raised the rifle in one hand, the flame in her other, prepared to turn everything before her to cinder and ash.

Wait. The word sounded in her mind and she gaped.

“What?”

I am Willow, no, not the original. I’m a copy but my… mind is still me, Willow. Please, I beg of you Cyn, let us go free.

What. The Fuck. Was this thing serious?

Look within and you’ll see the truth. Or ask me about that time you visited the sex shop with Rutger and Vargr. Or how Toother raced around with Mads on his back.

“So.” She gulped. It meant little to nothing. “So you have Willow’s memories. That’s a reason to kill you.”

No. I am Willow. Not just her memories. I am her. Avidex says he’s not sorry he did what he did to you, but he understands why you think it bad.

Then she distinctly heard Willow sigh inside her head.

I’m sorry, Cyn. This has been like educating a slime mold.

What? Cyn scratched her head with the end of her rifle. Not safe but still. That wry comment sounded so much like Willow.

The Willow copy cupped her hands and knelt.

He is possibly the last of his kind, considering the events of today. I gather this is worldwide, and I swear he has something resembling goodness inside him.

Why was she even considering this request?

“Really, Willow. This is you?”

I think so. It’s difficult to be sure. I mean I’ve tried to keep notes, but this idiot won’t write anything down.

That sealed it, somehow. It was her. This strange being was her friend.

She didn’t have friends anymore though.

No soul equals no friends.

Where was Little Mo when she needed him?

“There’s nowhere for you to go. This thing is too low to launch.” She waved at the rogue queen. Killing her and… the Ghoul Lord was probably a kindness.

We will eject all other genetic material placed in this queen by other Ghoul Lords, and anything else unnecessary to us, and then we might reach the outer atmosphere and escape this planet.

“You truly want to go with this thing? Why don’t you stay?”

Because, this is all that is left of me. A copy. Willow opened her arms. I go with Avidex or I die. Please, Cyn, let us go.

Why in damnation were her eyes watering?

Cyn found she was almost strangling her rifle, and she slowly slipped it around to her back, clasped her hands at her front—as much to still her burning hands as anything.

What part of herself wanted to let them go? Her demon self or her older, gentler… okay backtrack on that one, she was never gentle. Her nicer but badass self?

She went to one knee and stared at this Willow, swore to herself over and over while behind her the human detritus wept and cried.

Her demon part gave no mercy. Maybe this was her last chance at being good?

“The others will be here soon, and they will not let you leave. They will destroy you both.”

Avidex says fifteen minutes, tops, for us to launch. He’s been preparing for this ever since I suggested how to do it.

Cyn almost laughed. That was her Willow.

Okay then.

“Go,” she whispered. “Go.” Then she bowed her head.

She waited.

Thank you was the last communication she had from them, from Willow.

She waited, not daring to move for fear she would do what she would regret, still torn by this decision. Did she want to do this as a last rebellion against the demon nanites that were taking her over? Or because it was the worst most immoral choice possible?

Avidex was her enemy and a Ghoul Lord. This was siding with him. With them.

She did not know . She clenched her fist and buried it in the rubble before her, crushing it into the dirt, the sand, into the pulverized concrete, until it hurt, until blood welled from her fingers, until flame licked up from beneath the pieces of rock and the rock blackened.

It reminded her.

Pain made the world spin.

Pain told you that you lived.

The queen shivered and shook the surrounding ground, making Cyn’s teeth rattle.

However they accomplished this ejection of genetic material, this triggering of the launch, she felt the rumble and heard the burbling sounds as they built in volume. Within ten minutes, give or take a few, the queen lifted away, softly, separating from the Top of this quarter.

It floated, actually floated, rising into the star-strewn sky, and she knew wing-soldiers had seen the fuss and were coming. Fleshy, goopy substances were shed and sheeted down onto where the queen had rested, splashing, but mostly sparing Cyn.

One blessing at least. Showering off goop would be disturbing.

The wing soldiers would be too late.

And still, she did not know if what she had done was right or wrong. She’d believed the words of a simulacrum that was only a copy of someone she’d once known.

Slowly the queen shrank smaller and smaller until she was a dot in the sky.

Then she was gone.

Others came.

She remained.

From the sounds behind her they were landing. She smelled and sensed her bondmates. It was a trigger for rage. They wished to keep her, to remove her powers. With these powers she became far more than any of the beasters.

There was a certain need for finality. “I suppose you’ve come to say goodbye?” She flexed her fingers as she straightened and stood—extended, flexed them, surprised to find herself growing claws. They couldn’t hurt her. All the bullets that’d come at her today had vaporized before they’d struck, and she’d tried out the bastardium previously on a finger—stabbed herself—just in case.

Still she did not turn and look.

“No. We haven’t, Cyn.”

“What then? I have no need for streamers and cake, just a farewell will do. I will finish this.”

“No.” That was Rutger, in a measured if shaky voice. She could tell he’d crept closer.

Red motes dripping, hands afire, she whipped around and cried a warning, “Stay back!” and smote the surrounds with a warning blast of intense fire that curled across the ground.

Smoke rose, fragments blasted past her face. She didn’t bother to blink.

Through the shimmer of superheated air she saw what she had wrought. A small metal creature lay on its back, melting. Its many limbs were curling up and bending, dripping metal. Its mind was blasted and silent. It died the death of a thing that had never truly lived.

Her eyes widened and she froze.

“He only wanted to help you,” someone said.

Purple paint peeled from the metal.

Little Mo.

No. Aghast she choked on the words she needed to say.

A net of steel fell on her, and the first shot took her in the heart, halting its beats, and threw her backward so she toppled.

They bore her snarling down to the earth, and shot her again and again, her body jumping with each blow. They injected something into the port. Her bondmates and Maura, her betrayers. She fought them, but her blows were weak.

“You shot her, Maura?”

“Yes. With those nanites I didn’t dare give out to anyone. We’d never have gotten an injection in otherwise. My last resort. She just released a queen and tried to burn us all. What else could I do?”

The blood in her veins was freezing, propelling ice along the tiniest vessels, forcing through the tributaries of the great river of her blood system. Half-blind, shivering, she felt her body shutting down.

“What nanites?” someone asked.

“Angel ones.”

Angel? She snarled again before she died.

Blackness reigned.