Free Division Zero: Lex De Mortuis by Matthew S. Cox Page B

awhile.”
    Dorian’s voice echoed from the side, at a yell. “Found an M3 wire burned on the ground. Junction box out in the hall has a Tricor Fiber uplink, or what’s left of one. Whoever lived here was a big time net head.”
    “What’s that,” gasped Nicole, pointing.
    Kirsten looked, seeing nothing. “What?”
    “A shadow just moved over there. Big. Assault Marine big.”
    “Please don’t be fucking with me here, Nikki.” Kirsten stepped around the circle; something in the back of her head told her not to cross it.
    “I swear I’m not.” The redhead’s tiny voice sounded as if it came from an eight-year-old.
    “Who’s there?” Kirsten’s voice echoed into the wind.
    Nicole sniffled.
    “You can wait in the car if you want.”
    The lights on Nicole’s helmet swept back and forth with a rapid headshake. “No, I’m not leavin’ you here alone.”
    A dry rasping chuckle settled through the entire floor, thinning Kirsten’s blood. It had no focus, no direction, reverberating from everywhere. Then she saw it―a shadow crept along the far side of the room between columns and patches of still-standing wall. Large, like Nicole said, maybe seven feet tall. Malice replaced the fear in the air.
    Something hated her.
    Nicole screamed. Kirsten whirled, finding her friend staring aghast at Dorian. He had moved closer, six feet away from the edge of the silver circle. His hair shifted as if wind blew through it; faint transparency meant he was visible.
    Pain.
    Kirsten howled, losing her E-90 and falling on all fours. Someone had poured gasoline on her back and lit it. No, someone shot her with a laser. No, burning iron spikes had rammed themselves into her kidneys and twisted. She scrabbled at the ground, crawling forward. Her knee bumped the weapon, she remembered it, and put one hand on it. Cold sweat, the pain in her back increased to the point it did not hurt anymore.
    Blue dots glowed in the dark, the holographic gunsight drifted side to side in her trembling grasp. Nicole slid to a halt behind her, weapon out as well. Kirsten caught her breath and got angrier. Standing with Nicole’s help, she stowed the weapon and forced her eyes into the astral world. Her left arm was tucked against her chest, paralyzed from the pain all along that side of her body. If not for Nicole holding her up, she would have fallen. The lash unfurled to the floor from her right hand. Kirsten squinted at the darkness. Shadows slid across the ground as if the moon fast-forwarded across the sky. The mood lightened. Wind no longer made the slightest sound.
    Whatever it was had left, and taken fear with it.
    “Holy shit, that noodly thing is so pretty.” Nicole, back to her old self, shook her shoulder. “Are you okay? What was that scream?”
    Kirsten relaxed her mind; the lash evaporated, her eyes returned to the mortal world. “I don’t know.” She swooned off her feet.
    Nicole held on, easing her to sit on a toppled filing cabinet. She grunted. The pain returned, weaker this time, as though someone held a single candle too close to her back. Dorian jogged over, shaking his head.
    “I saw something move. It came out from behind the post, shot over to you, and went back so fast it was a blur.”
    “Wraith? Maybe it’s pissed off I got its little brother.” She grimaced. “Dammit, my back is burning.”
    Nicole pulled Kirsten’s shirt out of her pants, and gasped. The helmet-mounted tactical lights turned Kirsten’s back luminous, the color of new fallen snow. Kirsten’s armband chimed. Email from Nicole.
    “Look at that… And damn, girl, get some sun.”
    Kirsten glanced up at her friend, and then opened the message. A photo of her from behind, milk-white skin marred red by three vertical scratches about six inches long over the left kidney. The skin was welted, angry and red, looking every bit as hot as it felt. It did not bleed much, the depth little different from what one might expect from a petulant