Genesis Sinister. James Axler
and, before Kane could do anything, opened her hand, palm down, above Edwards’s head. A single stone—just a pebble really—dropped from her hand, falling onto Edwards’s shoulders and the back of his neck. Edwards fell back, sweeping at the stone and brushing it away over the heads of the crowd. Beside him, another crowd member was receiving one of the living stones, arms outstretched to accept this precious gift from a god. But as the Stone Widow handed over the stone, there came a crash from below the stage and she turned.
One of the robed security men turned also, his brow furrowed beneath his hood. “What the heck—?”
Then there came more bumping from the underside of the stage as Domi bashed her head against it in her haste to get out, the living stones pouring across her skin, all the way up her right arm.
In front of the stage, Edwards shook his head to clear it of the buzzing before searching the crowd to locate his colleagues. “Kane—? Grant—?”
From his right, Kane came hurtling forward, swept along by the surging crowd eager to accept the eerie, living gifts. “Edwards, what’s happ—?”
He stopped, spying the commotion at the far end of the stage where Domi had come barreling out from her hiding place. She had chosen to wear a light summery dress that left her chalk arms bare, and Kane could see immediately the dark spots rising along the right arm, rolling up it in some weird perversion of raindrops. Two of the robed acolytes were moving toward her, each of them reaching inside his billowing robes and pulling something free. Kane already knew that each of those figures would be packing heat.
“Domi, look out,” Kane called, placing his left hand on Edwards’s shoulder and using it to propel himself over the crowd and onto the stage. With his other hand, Kane gestured forward, and the specific flinch movement of his wrist tendons activated the hidden holster he wore under his right sleeve, powering a weapon into his hand. The Sin Eater was a compact handblaster, roughly fourteen inches in length but able to fold in on itself for storage in the hidden sleeve holster. Once the official sidearm of the Magistrate Division, the Sin Eater fired 9 mm rounds. The trigger had no guard, as the necessity had never been foreseen for any kind of safety features. The absolute nature of that means of potential execution reflected the high regard with which Magistrates like Kane were viewed in the villes; their judgment could never be wrong. Thus, if the user’s index finger was crooked at the time the weapon reached his hand, the pistol would begin firing automatically. Though no longer a Magistrate, Kane had retained his weapon from his days in service at Cobaltville, and he felt most comfortable with the weapon in hand.
Ahead of Kane, the two robed figures had brought what appeared to be slingshots into their hands, just simple coils of leather. Despite their primitive appearance, the slingshots could launch rock missiles at speeds that rivaled a bullet from a gun. These were the default weapon of the troops for Ullikummis, and Kane had been on the receiving end of their lethal projectiles on more than one occasion in the past three months.
“Kane, they’ve got stones,” Edwards warned, recovering from his momentary loss of concentration.
“I see them,” Kane muttered under his breath.
In unison, the two hooded forms spun the slingshots in their hands, gathering speed in a fraction of a second before unleashing the first of their stone ammunition. No larger than a knuckle each, two stones fired from the whirling slingshots like bullets, cutting through the air toward Domi’s writhing form. At the same instant, Kane drew a bead on the hooded figure to the left and stroked the trigger of his Sin Eater, sending a single 9 mm bullet into the back of the man’s leg. The man went down in a flutter of robes, crying out in pain as his leg gave way in a burst of blood.
Concentrating on protecting Domi, Kane was dimly aware that chaos was erupting in the main room behind him, the crowd startled by the gunshots in the enclosed space. But there was not time to worry about that now—Grant and Edwards could take care of it.
Kane charged across the stage as the figure to his left fell, bringing the Sin Eater around to take out the second. The figure in the robe surprised Kane with the swiftness of his response, spinning and bringing his arm up, batting away the muzzle of the Sin Eater even before Kane could pull the trigger a second time.
“Put the sling down,” Kane demanded as he was knocked two paces to his left by the savage blow.
In response, the hooded figure simply smiled, reloading his simple but effective weapon in a blur of movement.
Down on the floor behind the stage, Domi was writhing in pain as two dozen stones rushed over her body, rolling like snail shells and leaving bloody welts in their wake. A complete line of the tiny stones had encircled her arm just below the elbow, forming a second skin there. “H-hurts,” Domi hissed as she tried to pull one of the shell-like rocks from her limb. It pulled away with an audible popping sound, releasing her flesh with a spit of blood. Around it, the other stones shimmered and throbbed, shuffling to take its place.
Among the crowd, Grant and Edwards were calling for everyone to calm down.
“Just a little mix-up,” Grant said, forcing that old Magistrate authority into his tone. “Everyone keep calm and no one’s going to get hurt.”
“Screw you!” yelled a man from just behind him, and Grant automatically ducked as his peripheral vision caught something being thrown at his head.
The powerfully built ex-Mag turned then, commanding his own Sin Eater into his hand from its hidden wrist holster. “We’re busting this scam open, people,” he shouted, targeting the man who had thrown his shoe. “You need to calm the hell down—right now.”
Grant swept the blaster over the crowd at head level, warning them back as he backed toward the stage. Edwards was beside him, a smaller-caliber pistol now in his hands from its hiding place at the small of his back. As the two of them reached the stage, the Stone Widow and her remaining acolyte leaped over them, launching into the crowd and hurrying for the doors.
Dammit, Grant thought. Why was it that wherever he went with Kane he always ended up in situations like this? It was Kane, he was a magnet for trouble.
“Edwards, grab the box,” Grant commanded as he chased after the woman.
Edwards charged after the retreating robed figure who was hefting the box of stones, shoving members of the crowd aside in his urgency to reach the man. Sensing the danger, the figure turned, his face a patchwork of wrinkled lines and puckered skin.
“You’re one of us,” the robed man hissed as he saw Edwards barrel toward him.
“Used to be,” Edwards spit, pistol-whipping the man behind his ear.
The robed figure lurched forward, dropping the box at the strike, and its contents spilled across the room.
“Everyone back,” Edwards ordered, skipping away from the strewed rocks. “Get back!”
Behind him, the crowd raised their voices in confusion.
* * *
AT THE REAR OF THE STAGE, Kane ducked as a volley of stones hurtled toward him from the shooter. As the rocks zipped over his head, Kane powered himself forward, charging at the man.
As he saw Kane charge toward him, the robed figure said one ominous sentence that Kane had heard time and time and again in the past few months: “I am stone.”
Kane plowed into the man, knocking both of them back and off the stage. Although only a small drop, the robed man slammed against the floor with a loud crack of bone. Kane landed on top of him, and he brought the clenched fist of his left hand down in a swift, sharp jab. The punch struck the man full in the face, and Kane watched with satisfaction as his eyes flickered and he fell unconscious.
“No, you ain’t,” Kane muttered as he pulled himself off the fallen figure, moving to help Domi.
Back on the stage, the robed man’s colleague was just recovering from the gunshot. An expert marksman, Kane had targeted him perfectly, clipping the top of his leg and hobbling him just long enough that he could not reload his sling.