Page 2 of Spectral Seas (Spectral Worlds #2)

T HE BASS BEAT dulled as Abby passed through the outer hallway to the narrow sunken stairwell that led up the street. The acrid odor of the Low City, weighing heavy and humid in the concrete cavity, ripped into his sinuses. He winced but it didn’t hold back his rush up the concrete steps onto the surface street and into the thick neon backlit cotton candy pink fog.

Apart from the sleepers cuddled up to the curbs, the street was desolate. Abby gripped the back of his neck, pondering which way to turn. Then a stroke of luck hit. The silhouettes of Caprieri and Joston briefly cut from the mist a short way down the block, then disappeared again.

With a clench of his jaw, Abby engaged his chin-chip and followed after them. The vibration of the inside bass, faint to the ear, instantly magnified into a buzzing sensation that made his lower jaw tingle. It took a few more clenches and some distance before the electro beat was replaced by footfalls from behind—the thugs from the club.

Noticeably absent were the steps of Caprieri and Joston .

A precog image flashed into Abby’s mind. An apparition in the fog. As usual, it was of little help. What he saw as one vague form emerging from the neon pink turned out to be two—the Kasmine and his Lumen flunky.

Abby threw the side of his coat back and slammed a palm to the hilt of his fusion blade.

Caprieri threw his hand up flat and blurted, “I wouldn’t do that, Squire.”

Abby held.

With a slight nod, Caprieri gestured toward the shadow of his companion.

Joston stepped from the mist, holding a blaster at his waist.

Abby slowly moved his hand from his weapon. “You shouldn’t have your finger on that trigger,” he said.

“What are you talking about?” Joston asked.

“Trigger discipline. That’s a T-9. Am I right?”

“Yeah. So?”

“They have a hair trigger. You really should keep your finger extended and resting up on the slide or cylinder so you don’t blow your foot off. Here. Let me show you.”

Lightning quick, Abby slapped his hand back to the hilt and drew his fusion blade—but didn’t ignite it.

The two jumped back.

“Whoa,” said Caprieri, both hands flying up.

The barrel of Joston’s blaster quivered. “I’ll really use this,” he said.

“Relax,” said Abby. “Here. Let me show you what I’m talking about.”

“I’m serious.”

Abby held his hand out flat, the hilt resting on his open palm. Without the sword ignited, his weapon was nothing more than an elaborate hilt with finger grips and a trigger at the top. “See? This is a perfectly safe way to hold your weapon.”

Joston’s head wobbled side to side. “But you can’t shoot it that way,” he said.

“Sure I can,” said Abby. With a flick of his wrist, Abby spun his palm over the top of the hilt.

“Wait a minute,” said Caprieri.

“I told you, just relax. You’re too uptight.” Abby raised the hilt up to show them his index finger was pointing away from the pulse trigger. “See. This is trigger discipline.” He stepped closer to the two, raised the hilt shoulder level, then thumped his finger against the top of it. “I have range, mobility. Try it.”

Joston’s eyes raced to Caprieri then back to Abby.

“Go ahead,” said Abby. “This is something you have to learn.”

Joston withdrew his finger from the trigger and away from the T-9.

“Yeah,” said Abby. “That’s it. See? Much safer. Now put it back.”

“Don’t listen to him,” said Caprieri.

“He has to learn,” said Abby. “Go ahead.” Again, Abby slapped his finger against the side of his hilt. Joston did the same.

“There you go,” said Abby. “That’s trigger discipline. Of course, mine’s both blaster and blade.” The mist beside Joston’s head sizzled as a long violet wand instantly extended past it. Abby twirled his finger away from the burning plasma sword. “Trigger discipline doesn’t affect the blade at all.”

The T-9 shook in Joston’s trembling hand.

“You fool,” Caprieri blurted through his clenched teeth. “Shoot him. ”

“I wouldn’t,” said Abby. “I drop and so does the blade, right through you.”

Without moving his head, Joston darted his eyes toward the glowing beam above his shoulder. Abby gently lifted the T-9 away from Joston, then extinguished and holstered his own weapon.

He grinned at Caprieri as he inspected Joston’s blaster. Caprieri grinned back.

“Don’t be so smug,” said Abby. He then spun around to confront the two thugs from the club. He pulled the trigger. The blaster whistled then popped, but no blast erupted. The two Maro thugs casually drew their flame blades and let the long lights ignite.

Abby turned back toward Caprieri and Joston, holding up the T-9. “This thing isn’t even charged,” he said.

Joston pulled his T-9 back. “Sure it is,” he said, then fired a pulse up into the mist. “It’s DNA locked, for safety.”

“You should have killed us when you had the chance,” Caprieri said as he rolled up his sleeves.

“If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t see me coming.”

The two thugs extinguished their blades, then each grabbed Abby by an arm.

“Hey,” said Abby. “No reason to be so rough.”

“Do you see this?” asked Caprieri as he threw a fast jab into Abby’s gut.

“ Ugh ,” bellowed Abby.

“Too uptight?” asked Caprieri as he landed a second punch.

“ Ugh ,” Abby bellowed again. Defiant, he said, “Well. You could lighten up a little.”

The burn in Caprieri’s eyes intensified as he paced back and forth in front of Abby. He flexed his fingers wide then tightened them into ball .

“I’m looking for Valon,” said Abby. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Caprieri.

“Sure, you do. Tell me what you know and make it easier on yourself.”

“Easier on me? You hardly are in a position to negotiate.”

“You don’t have much time,” said Abby. “I’ll give you one more chance.”

“No,” said Caprieri. “It’s you who has run out of time. Joston. Kill him.”

A twisted grin crept across Joston’s weasel face, “Bye bye, Bureau Boy,” he said as he raised the barrel of the T-9 to Abby’s chest.

The T-9 whirred to high pitch, Abby winced and tightened his face. There was a hum and a rapid flash of blue light. The T-9 flew into the air, Joston’s hand still attached. VWEEET! The flying blaster blindly fired midair, then disappeared into the void of the mist.

“ Augh !” Joston screamed, as he clutched the stumped wrist at the end of his arm.

The neon blue blade that had appeared from nowhere continued to hum as it flew first from one side of Abby’s head then fanned three-sixty degrees away and around to the other side—decapitating the two thugs holding him.

Then the light extinguished.

Caprieri franticly searched the fog, then jerked back, his arm pulled and twisted behind him into his back by an unseen force. With his free arm, he clutched at his throat.

“I wouldn’t bother,” said Abby. “She’s not going to let go.”

“She?” asked Caprieri.

From behind Caprieri materialized a lithe brunette in a body-tight, black Homeland Security uniform. Abby’s Umbra partner Leta Serene. With one hand, she held Caprieri’s pinned arm against his back, with the other, a dagger across his neck.

Abby pointed to Joston’s stump. “The faster you have that repaired the more sensation you’ll have,” he said. “Wait too long and the nerve damage will be permanent.”

Sniveling, Joston raised his cowering head to his master.

“Go ahead,” said Caprieri.

Joston dropped his head in a weak bow, then scurried into the mist.

“All right,” said Abby. “Where was I?”

“You were telling Mister Caprieri that you’re looking for Valon,” said Leta.

“Right.”

“And you were just about to ask about the Arden Mortuus.”

“Yeah. So, what do you say, Caprieri? What’s up with Arden Mortuus?”

“How should I know?” asked Caprieri.

“Word is, you’re still in contact.”

“Whoever told you that is lying,” said Caprieri. He lurched forward, but Leta didn’t relent. She tightened her grip on his wrist and lifted it higher up his back.

“Do you mind,” he snapped.

With a nod, Abby gestured Leta to let the Maro go. She did.

“Thank you,” said Caprieri, rubbing the arm that had been twisted.

“So what do you know?” asked Abby.

“I know that Arden Mortuus is laying low.”

“And Valon?”

“No one has seen or heard from Valon since Arcadia.”

“You’re sure?” asked Abby .

“What do you mean? Of course, I’m sure,” said Caprieri. “That’s really what you wanted? To ask me about the dead.”

“Who said anything about Valon being dead?”

“Everyone knows you killed him. That’s what happened, right? You went ballistic and somehow managed to take out Valon and a bunch of his followers.”

Abby nodded at Leta. “Let’s go.” The two turned their backs to Caprieri and walked into the night.

“That’s it?” Caprieri yelled behind them. “You’re crazy, Squire.”

Abby didn’t respond.

Caprieri persisted. “What really happened out there, Squire?”

A sly smile crept across Leta’s face. “Did you really expect him to offer you anything new?”

“Don’t know if you don’t ask,” said Abby. “You were late.”

“I couldn’t reach you.”

“The vibrations in the club, I couldn’t engage anything. Did you report in to Yun?”

“Sure did,” said Leta. “The Director is looking for you.”

“Why didn’t he call me himself?”

“Would you have answered?” she asked.

“Fair point. What does Yun want this time?”

“It’s another special request. Something is spooking the workers in the Viridis Plane.”

“And?”

“And the Viridian ambassador has asked for you by name. Director Lin said you’ve visited in the past.”

“Yeah. Years ago,” Abby said. “By any chance was this Viridian named Elggwa?”

“Huh. Yes. As a matter of fact, it was.”

~*~