Cursed

Footsteps in the corridor. A guard was approaching. His gun wasn’t up—he wasn’t expecting a fight yet. Looking into the future, I saw that he wasn’t going to check this room … but he wasn’t going to leave the corridor either and in less than sixty seconds a bunch more guards would come down from the first floor. If I hid here I’d be trapped.

Time to give up on stealth. I waited for the guard to walk past, then stepped out into the doorway with my weapon up and sighted on the back of his head. I looked into the future of me pulling the trigger, saw that nothing would happen, flicked the safety off, looked into the future again, saw the burst going up and left, corrected down and right, looked into the future again, saw the burst hit, pulled the trigger. My divination isn’t as quick with guns as with thrown items—not as practised, not as intuitive—but it still took barely a second.

Garrick’s submachine gun was louder than I expected, a chattering ba-ba-bang! that made me flinch, and the second and third rounds went high as the recoil kicked my shoulder, but I saw the red puff as the first bullet went through the guard’s head, and that was all she wrote. The body crumpled and as my ears adjusted I heard shouts. The stairs down to the basement were on the west side and I ran for them.

I nearly made it. Would have made it, if three guards hadn’t decided to get smart and cut me off. I was less than thirty feet away when they came round the corner.

Most people think combat’s about attacks and weapons but it’s not. It’s about movement and information. Belthas’s men were just as skilled as me and just as tough as me but I knew where we’d meet and they didn’t. I was already crouching with my gun braced against my shoulder as the first one came around the corner, and I fired before he’d even spotted me. One burst to bring him down, another to finish the job. The other two guards could have rushed me if they’d attacked together but they’d just seen their friend killed in front of them. They backpedalled and started screaming into their radios for backup.

I had an open run to the basement but I’d just be boxing myself in. I could sense more guards closing in and I knew I had about fifteen seconds before they pinned me down. I ducked into the nearest room, pulled out the detonator and braced myself against the wall before pushing the button.

I felt the wall shudder behind me and there was a deep boom and a rush of air, followed a second later by a tearing, crashing sound. The lights flickered but most came back on again and the building steadied. I kept going through the room and out the other side into the main hall. Dust and smoke were billowing down the staircase, and I could hear screams from above; some of Belthas’s men had been near the second bomb when it went off. I took the right door and headed for the corridor where the two men were hunkered down, coming around from the other side. They’d heard me coming and were waiting with their guns trained on the corner, but it didn’t do them any good. I took a grenade from my pack, pulled the pin and let the lever spring free, waited two seconds, then threw it around the corner, bouncing it off the wall to roll next to where I knew the men were crouching. The bang was a lot louder this time. I moved past the torn bodies to the stairs leading down to the basement.

I heard Sonder’s voice over the radio as I trotted down the stairs. They were concrete, and narrow. “Alex? Alex!”

I pulled the radio out, listening carefully to the sounds above. There were shouts and orders but it sounded like I’d bought myself a little more time. “Make it quick,” I said into the radio.

There was a burst of static. “—did you say?”

The stairs ended in a metal door on the left-hand side. The guard in the basement was on the other side with his weapon trained, ready to fire. I shoved the door open and stepped back as a burst of automatic fire chipped fragments from the wall. “Not the best time, Sonder.”

“Cinder’s on his way,” Sonder said, his voice tense and excited. “Getting to the manor right about … now!”

Right on cue, I heard the familiar whoompf of a fireball from above followed by an agonised shriek. The guards on the ground floor who’d been heading for me changed direction. “Perfect,” I said absently, wedging the radio between ear and shoulder so I could bring up my gun.

“He’s burning the whole back wall!” Sonder’s voice rose a few notes. “He— Holy crap! That thing just—”

Another burst of fire drilled the wall next to me. I poked the muzzle of my gun around the corner and fired a short burst, the ba-ba-bang! deafeningly loud in the corridor, then pulled back fast to avoid the return fire.

“The wards are going off! They’re firing back, they’re—”