Secret War: Warhammer 40,000 by Ben Agar (romantic novels to read .TXT) 📕

"What, to become a low life, low level, expendable and badly paid mercenary? No. My idea of it then didn't fit with the reality of it at all."

"It never does," said Torris.

"I guess," said Garrakson with a grimace as he sniffed loudly.

Both Torris and I expected him to say more, but he didn't, just twisted his finger in his ear.

Torris turned back to me. "That is one hell of a coincidence, Attelus. Our psyker just so happens to be your old crush and war buddy."

I shrugged and struggled to keep the smirk from my face.

"Well, coincidences can happen," I said.

"Miracle more like," said Garrakson.

It was Torris' turn to sniff. "So, kid. When the woman who you hadn't seen in seven years, the one you fell in love with, the one that saved you from going insane and you'd fought beside. When she had emerged from that elevator, I couldn't imagine the thoughts and emotions you were going through when you saw her. You hid your reaction very, very well."

"In fact, you were doing your usual smug smirk," said Garrakson. "The smirk you do when you're up to something devious, right, Torris?"

Torris frowned and glanced at Garrakson.

"Jeurat. Do you seriously think my attention was on Attelus then?" he said.

Garrakson grimaced, folded his arms and leaned back in his chair.

"No..."

Torris smiled.

I grinned and shrugged. "In my line of work, one must know how to control their emotions."

Garrakson snorted. "And you've proven yourself real good at that," he said sarcastically.

"Well, I've learned a lot the hard way over the past few months," I said.

Garrakson grimaced.

"So she never came back; what did you do then?" asked Torris.

"Waited out the war," I said. "But it didn't last long. Apparently, Space Marines of the Dark Angels chapter came and cleaned out the invaders. Never got to see any of this first hand, though."

"Again, very lucky," said Torris.

I just pursed my lips and shrugged again.

For a good minute, we sat in awkward silence.

I had completely lost my appetite; all I could do was stare down at my plate and poke it with my fork.

"Well, kid, that certainly explains a lot," said Torris eventually.

"Yeah, it does," said Garrakson.

"You look tired, kid," said Torris.

"I am, I really, really am," I sighed while rubbing my eyes.

"Let's go, Attelus," said Torris. "We'll take you somewhere you can sleep."

"Yeah, sounds good," I said, and despite everything, I felt better, felt like I'd taken a little weight off my chest.

I woke screaming as I'd never screamed before. I writhed, sweaty in the sheets, as the terror of the nightmare continued to hold me in its grip.

Finally, I managed to make myself stop and gasping through my raw, ragged throat; I sat on the side of the bed, looking down at my hands with watery eyes.

It was a dream, only a dream, but by the Emperor, what a nightmare! What the hell was that? Some sick fantasy? One which would happen if I gave in to the insanity? I clasped my face into my sweat-slicked hands.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" I gasped. "Why would I dream that? Why?"

I stood up and stumbled drunkenly through the mess of my room, toward the bathroom.

After that little bit of soul searching, Torris and Garrakson had brought me back to my hab unit and immediately, I'd just thrown myself onto my bed, too exhausted to do anything else.

But now I regretted it, that dream by the Emperor, that dream. Somehow I found it even more horrifying than the daemons and anything I'd ever encountered before.

I found the sink, turned on the water, rinsed my face, then gazed at my reflection in the mirror.

The bruises I'd suffered were all gone, my face now almost pristine, but when I brushed off the hair that covered the left side of my face, I saw the scar.

By frig, it was an ugly, jagged thing around six centimetres long, a good four centimetres wide and at least two centimetres thick. The many, many stitches that had held it together were now mostly broken and open. It'd always be there as a reminder, a reminder of Elandria and the thorough beating I took from the shapeshifter, Xenos, thing.

At the thought of Glaitis' pet, I gripped the basin, hard making my knuckles whiten with strain and my reflection to glare back at me with barely contained rage. The bastard! I'll make sure it will die! Just the same Feuilt, then Glaitis after him! Though, In all honesty, I didn't care what order I killed them in, just as long as it was at my hand and they both died painfully.

But I still had the promise I'd made to Karmen, one which I intended to keep, but once Glaitis and 'It' had outlived their usefulness, I wasn't going to hesitate.

I sighed and pushed off the sink, and walked to my bedside. I took my commlink, grabbed the nearest towel and made for my shower. By the Emperor, did I need one, not just because I stunk but also wishing to wash away the memory of that horrific dream.

What is it about you? You seem to bring out the best and worst of me all at once, I thought as I turned the shower faucet and placed my microbead on the sink. Why do you do this to me, Adelana? WHY!?

I-I had feelings for Karmen; why was I dreaming of Adelana? Someone I barely knew? Why did she make me act that way? Why?

With a frustrated growl, I stepped under the hot stream.

The sick thing was, I enjoyed it. It may have sickened me now, but during the dream, I liked it. It'd felt good; it'd felt, right.

I knew I had a...darkness, which I struggled to keep fettered. But I'd never imagined it to be that bad, that psychotic and cruel.

If I lost myself, if I became truly unfettered, as that utterly terrifying monster, what I'd become?

I sighed, just like Feuilt was, or wasn't? I had no idea what he really was, the psychotic cultist I'd fought, or if it was some front for some reason, I was too tired to think about. But again, my thoughts came back to Feuilt's last words, that Edracian wasn't what he seemed. I was pretty sure he was telling the truth, but the truth of what, exactly?. Then it hit me; it could've been anyone in that armour, anyone. They'd said that Edracian wasn't a psyker. So perhaps, perhaps some psyker had killed Edracian and was now in the armour pretending to be him, as Brutis Bones had suggested.

My mind whirled, and I fear-filled through me, so if that was true, then who? Who the hell could it be? Could it be my father? Feuilt had claimed he knew my father, that it was Serghar Kaltos who'd taught him everything he knew.

I shook that away; I knew my father wasn't a psyker. As I'd thought of earlier, what if my father used the souls to make himself one? That also posed yet another question. Just how much did our erstwhile ally Brutis Bones know? He'd said when we'd first met something hinting that I shouldn't have assumed it was Edracian. Perhaps Brutis knew this?

He was just another on the long list of people I couldn't trust, a list that was getting longer by the second.

For a long time, I stood, hunched even worse than usual and stared at the white tiled wall in a daze as the constant stream of hot water hit me.

What I'd just seen, what I'd been through, was like nothing I'd ever seen before. I'd only encountered what a tiny minority of this galaxy ever would, the entities of the warp, daemons.

I looked down at my clenching fist. Seeing that stuff must've damaged my mind. That's what I was told by Glaitis once. The warp and anything to do with it was the true anathema to us, to all logic and reason. That mere contact near it damage our mental health and well being. I'd always been near the edge, so after that...incident, how much closer was I? On top of that, the Farseer, knowing she's there in my head, perhaps even manipulating my every thought.

Despite the heat of the water, I shivered; I just hoped that I'd never encounter anything like that again. Sure, I'd taken numerous trips through the warp since I'd left Elbyra seven years ago, but I'd always avoided looking on the warp as it went by outside.

Just then, I felt the water begin to lose its warmth and clumsily, I turned off the faucet. For another good ten minutes, I stood, stark naked in the shower.

I wasn't sure what I wanted to do, whether I wanted to laugh in triumph that I'd survived that hell, that I'd managed to stop the daemonic invasion before it even started. Or if I wanted to weep, so many had died, so many good people that didn't deserve it, Olinthre, Taryst, all the Magistratum detectives, the many Hammers under Brutis' command.

"Elandria," I said, my emotion choked and croaked voice echoing in the bathroom.

Just then, my vox link chimed, knocking me from my reverie.

Slowly, I got out of the shower, wrapped my towel around my waist and picked it up.

"Attelus here," I said.

"Attelus," said Olinthre's voice, causing another cold shiver to crawl up my spine. "Hurry it up; we need you up in Taryst's grotto ASAP."

"I-"

But before I could say more, the shapeshifter cut the link.

I sighed; that Thing just loved to take every opportunity it got to boss me around, didn't it?

Well, soon it won't be able to, ever again, I thought with a smile and left the bathroom, trying to ignore my reflection in the mirror on the way out.

After slipping on a clean body glove and my flak jacket, I left my hab unit. The building now crawled with mercs. I found the step up on security was hardly surprising after all that's happened.

I caught the elevator to the bottom floor, clenching my teeth in annoyance as the sound of screeching gears hurt my ears. According to my wrist chron, I'd only slept for about an hour, which was why I could still barely keep my eyes open.

With a long, drawn-out yawn, I took out a Lho, lit it and placed it in my mouth. I glanced at the pack and sighed as I saw it was already half empty. Perhaps it was high time I quit.

Then I couldn't help wonder, what was it that made the Mimic call me over there so urgently. Had Karmen finally awoken? Or was it something to do with that pict I took?

I sighed as the elevator finally made it to the bottom floor.

Guess I'm going to find out, I thought as I slid open the rusty old cage door, which squealed horridly in protest.

I was so tired I almost missed seeing the six Mercenaries waiting for me in the main foyer; they approached from a far corner, all in old standard-issue guard flak armour and holding las guns.

"Attelus Kaltos," said one with a nod; they all wore full helmets so that I couldn't see any of their faces.

"Oh great," I sighed, rolling my eyes. "Let me guess; the major sent you guys?"

"Yeah," said another, sounding a little surprised. "Said we need to take you to the main tower, so you uhh 'don't screw up yet a-frigging-gain'."

I grimaced and reached for the powersword sheathed at my hip. How can I trust these idiots? Sure, that sounded like something the Mimic would say, but these could easily be mooks sent by Edracian in disguise.

"You alright, sir?" asked the first who'd spoken before.

"Yeah, I'm alright," I said through clenched teeth; what was I going to do? Slaughter them like dogs, just based on some small suspicion? "I really don't need an escort," I said. "I'll be fine."

"I'm sorry, sir, but the Major insisted," said the first.

The corner of my mouth twitched, and I pulled out my vox link, tuning it to 'Olinthre's' channel.

"What do