Nemesis

day in the schola, since the moment the woman in the Vindicare robes had told him

they knew the name of the man who had killed his parents. It was his undying fuel,

the bottomless wellspring of dark emotion that made him such a superlative killer.

His sister’s fingertips touched his cheek. “No,” she said, her eyes brimming with

tears. “Please don’t show me that face again. Not the revenge. There is no end to that,

Eristede. It goes on and on and on and it will consume you. There will be nothing

left.”

Kell felt hollow inside, an empty vessel. “There’s nothing now,” he said. “You

took it all when you broke away. The last connection I had.” He looked down at his

hands. “This is all I have left.”

Jenniker shook her head. “You’re wrong. And so was I. I let you go that night. I

should have made you stay. We could have lived another life. Instead we doomed

ourselves.”

She was fading now, and he could see it. A surge of raw panic washed over him.

His sister was going to die and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

“Listen to me,” she said. “He is watching. The God-Emperor waits for me.”

“I don’t—”

“Hush.” She put a finger on his lips, trembling with her agony. “One day.”

Jenniker pressed something into his palm and closed his fingers over it. “Save His

life, Eristede. He will draw me to His right hand, to be with mother and father. I’ll

wait for you there. We will wait for you.”

“Jenniker…” He tried to find the right words to say to her. To ask her to forgive

him. To understand; but her eyes were all the answer he needed. He saw such

certainty there, such absence of doubt.

With difficulty she pulled a slim toxin corde from her pocket. “Do this, my

brother,” she told him, her pain rising. “But not for revenge. For the God-Emperor.”

Before he could stop her, she touched the tip of the needle-like weapon to her

palm and pierced the flesh. Kell cried out as her eyes fluttered closed, and she

became slack in his hands.

The rains drummed on the canopy and the flames hissed; then he became aware

of a presence at his side. Koyne stood there, holding his longrifle. “Vindicare,” said

the shade. “What are your orders?”

Kell opened his fingers and saw a gold aquila there, stained with dots of red.

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“In the Emperor’s name,” he said, rising to his feet and taking the weapon,

“follow me.”

226

SEVENTEEN

Confrontation

Duel

Termination

Kell looked up as Koyne emerged from the hangar where the Ultio was hidden and

his expression stiffened. The boyish face, the pretence at the shape of a human

aspect, these were all gone now. Instead, the Callidus had stripped down to what

existed in the core of the shade’s persona. An androgynous figure in the matt black

overall of a stealthsuit similar to that worn by Kell and Tariel, but with a hood that

clung to every contour of the other assassin’s face. The only expression, if it could be

said to be such a thing, was from the emerald ovals that were the eyes of the mask.

Cold focus glittered there, and little else. Kell was reminded of an artist’s wooden

manikin, something without emotion or animation from within.

Koyne’s head cocked. “There’s still time to reconsider this.” The voice, like the

figure, was neutral and colourless. Without someone else’s face to speak from, the

Callidus seemed to lose all effect.

He ignored the statement, rechecking the fresh clips of ammunition he had taken

from the ship for the paired Exitus longrifle and pistol. “Remember the plan,” said

the Vindicare. “We’ve all seen what it can do. There’s just the three of us now.”

“You saw it,” Tariel said, in a small voice. “We all saw it. On the memory coil,

and out there… It’s not human.”

Koyne gave a reluctant nod. “And not xenos. Not alien in that way.”

“It’s a target, that’s all that matters,” Kell retorted.

The Callidus scowled. “When you have been where I have been and seen what I

have seen, you come to understand that there are living things out there that go

beyond such easy categorisation. Things that defy reason… even sanity. Have you

ever peered into the warp, Vindicare? What lives there—”

“This is not the warp!” grated Kell. “This is the real world! And what lives here,

we can end with a bullet!”

“But what if we can’t kill the fiend?” said Tariel, a long ballistic coat pulled tight

over him. Congregating under the shadows near his boots, Kell saw rodentlike forms

sheltering from the rain.

“I wounded it,” said the Vindicare. “So we will kill it.”

Tariel gave a slow nod. Overhead, a crackling roar crossed the sky as something

burning crimson-purple passed above them, obscured by the low, dirty clouds.

Seconds later, impact tremors made the runway quiver all around them, and the

winds brought the long, drawn-out ramble of buildings collapsing. The city was

227

entering its death-throes, and when it was finally smothered, Kell doubted the fury of