Blaedergil's Host by C.M. Simpson (reading well .TXT) 📕

...like the twenty women between us and the stairwell we had to reach. Typical of Blaedergil to tuck his servants’ access in some obscure corner, but it had also worked to our advantage. The rooms nearest it didn’t seem to be occupied, and that meant less of his victims to avoid.

Mack wasn’t as fast as Bendigo. We’d taken about ten apiece, by the time we reached the stairs. Tens had the door open, as we got there.

“It’s still empty,” he said when we both hesitated, but his next words got us moving. “It won’t empty be for long.”

“Monsters?”

“Skymander’s people.”

Well, damn.

Mack led the way onto the landing and turned. I followed, not bothering with the door, and relieved when it slid closed behind me. Looked like Tens had that much of our backs, anyway.

“Thanks... I think.”

Screw you, I thought, and he laughed, reminding me—again—that I needed to work on keeping my thoughts out of the implant.

“Run.”

And I ran. Mack waited until I was alongside, and then ran with me, and I wondered what for.

“Don’t want to leave you behind.”

Condescending son of a bitch.

We hit the top floor, and I expected to be wrapped in silver and teleported out of there—except that’s not what happened.

“Tens...” Looked like Mack was in the same boat.

“He’s blocked teleport access to the internals.”

“We’re going to have to get onto the roof?”

I watched, as the directions Tens had marked on the map in my head changed. At least we didn’t have to go far.

“And move your asses; they’re in the stairwell, and gaining.”

Of course, they were. They hadn’t already run six flights and the stars only knew how many corridors.

“I think they’re borgs.” Tens again.

“Or augments.” Mack.

“Yup.”

They what?

“Shut up, Cutter,” came as a chorus.

I gave them both the mental finger, and followed Tens’s line to the nearest storage room.

“There’s access from the stairwell,” I said, eyeing another short flight up.

I wondered why we weren’t using the door at the top to access the roof, because, of course, Blaedergil had one. How else did he keep the top of his mansion looking shiny clean for the neighbors?

“I have plans for that. You’ll need to make your own hole.”

Tens did not elaborate, but Mack and I found the hatch in the storage room. It led to what, in a smaller house would have been the attic, and I wondered why Blaedergil needed one here. I pulled down the ladder, as Mack shifted a few of the heavier boxes of cleaning supplies across the door he’d closed behind us.

“Lock it up, Tens.”

“Done,” and Tens sounded like he thought Mack should have known that already.

“Don’t make me come up there.”

“Old man, you are going to need me to get up here.”

Mack didn’t have an answer for that, but I was already clambering up the ladder, and not looking where I was going. It should have come as no surprise that the attic wasn’t empty. It did come as a surprise that no-one up here was a threat to either of us.

They saw me come up the ladder, and piss-bolted for the far end of the roof space. That suited me just fine. I didn’t need to tell Mack what had just happened; he was already moving into the attic behind me.

“Where to now, Tens?”

“Run right to the other end, and then stand on something and make yourself an exit.”

Neither of us questioned him. He’d said he’d had plans for the servants’ official entrance onto the roof, and I darnwell knew that wasn’t far enough away for my liking. I ran, and the servants started to scatter.

“Stay where you are!” Mack roared, and they froze.

Some of them even dropped to the floor, and covered their head with their hands. If we hadn’t already killed Blaedergil stone-cold dead, then I would have wanted to go kill him again. Hells! I still wanted to go kill him again... and again, and again, and again.

“Cutter. We have no time.”

Mack had stopped ahead of me, and was pulling an empty cleaning crate away from the wall. Someone had been using it as a bedside table, but Mack moved their stuff to the bed alongside. When he had the crate positioned exactly where he wanted it, he stepped up onto it, and held out his hand.

“Explosives.”

Well, sure Mack. Whatever you say. Cos, you know, please was never a fashion.

“I am going to kick your ass when we get back.”

Sure, he was. I didn’t bother adding another mental finger, just handed him the explosives.

“Tens was the one who called you old,” I muttered, watching as he set the charges, and jumped back off his crate.

And speaking of Tens.

“On my count,” the comms tech said, and I figured he had something planned to hide the sound of the explosion.

Tens snickered inside the implant, as Mack and I found cover behind another crate. It wasn’t much, but the people closest took one look at what we were doing, and pressed themselves into the furthest corners they could find—although none of them made to move past us and back to the end of the attic that we’d vacated. I guess living in fear gives you a sixth sense about things like that.

Mack reached out an arm and wrapped it around me, pulling me close to his side.

“Hey!”

“Shut it.”

I shut, Tens said “Now”, and then the world exploded.

Mack’s explosives went off, but they were in no way responsible for the roar of destruction that engulfed the end of the attic closest the servants’ stair. It sounded like he’d brought down half the wall.

“You have no idea,” he said. “Now, MOVE!”

We moved, Mack boosting me up through the hole made by our own small charge.

“You’re shorter,” he said, and didn’t have to elaborate; I’d been wondering exactly how I’d reach the ceiling—even with the crate. I pulled myself through the hole, and scrambled up the roof, and away from the drop.

“There’s too much interference,” Tens muttered in my head. “Take that ridgeline to the right, and follow it as