Page 264 of Eight of Swords, Part Two

‘Not alone,’ Kade says.

‘Yes, alone.’

‘Dream on.’

‘Kade—’

‘Pride goeth, Lachlan,’ Blaire warns, pulling out several jugs and filling them with water from her kitchen faucet.

‘Fuck you,’ he mutters, but visibly relents, glancing between Riley and Kade before he swings the rifle off his back, snaps the folded stock open and thumbs the selector from safe to automatic. ‘Stay behind me.’

‘What the hell is she doing?’ Kade asks, staring at Blaire, who fills a huge mixing bowl with water right after the third jug.

‘Stay focused. Harker, you’re rear security until contact. Kade, strong-wall off me. Failure drills on anything that stays upright.’

Riley says, ‘Heard.’

Kade’s fucking boss just fell right into line.

‘We’ll meet them outside. Stay sharp.’

‘Julian,’ Blaire says from behind. ‘They cannot be Voxxed.’

There’s no time to ask for clarification.

‘Almost here,’ Riley reports quietly. ‘They’re carrying something.’

‘Identify?’

‘Can’t tell, but it’s—’

The front door is blown wide open before he can continue.

Kade’s eyes half-close against the burst of angry air, but he doesn’t lose aim once. They don’t come rushing inside like they did before at the old Estate. They don’t come inside at all.

Instead, they send three canisters rolling inside.

The gas begins to disperse too quickly, too diffuse for Kade to process. It’s not like the attack on the Tower. Whatever the compound is seems to be invisible and worryingly tasteless.

‘That’s bad,’ Riley warns.

‘That’s fucking Somnex,’ Lachlan says, his tone grim.

From behind them, Blaire says, ‘Cover me.’

‘Absolutely not, you can’t—’

Water crashes across the hardwood, followed swiftly by another, then another. The mixing bowl goes last. Gallons spread through the apartment, racing beneath furniture and gathering around their boots.

It spreads quickly to the gas.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ Lachlan demands.

Blaire steps barefoot into the flood.

The water begins to vibrate as if there’s music beneath it. A high-frequency whine needles Kade’s inner ears.

Mist peels from the surface of the spills in long white threads, rising against gravity. It moves like a swarm of glistening insects obeying a hive mind, rapidly climbing the furniture, the walls, Kade’s fucking boots.