The boy chuckled bitterly. “You don’t know what she’s capable of. The things she’s done, the things she’s—”
“Are you leaving us, my son?”
Abraham, Solomon and Cricket all looked to the workshop doors. Sister Dee stood there on the threshold, ash-streaked and bloodstained. She’d come alone, no black-cassocked Elite beside her, no Disciples around her. Her skullpaint was smudged. Her hair unruly. Dark eyes fixed on her boy.
“Mother…,” he said.
The woman shook her head. “Last night was…imprudent of you.”
“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“You’ve put yourself in danger, Abraham. Both of us in desperate danger.”
“I can leave,” he said. “I can take some creds and a motor, just go. I’ve got skills, I could easily get work in Megopolis or some—”
“Do you really think they would let you leave?”
The boy fell silent, his face pale and drawn, dark, greasy hair hanging about haunted eyes. Sister Dee was looking at the portrait on the wall. That man with his halo of light and his eyes ablaze.
“Your grandfather always said it was better to be feared than loved.”
Abraham slowly nodded. “I remember.”
“Do you remember what he called you, when he found out what you were?”
Abraham licked at his dry lips. “Abomination.”
“And do you remember what I did to him, when he threatened you?”
“You saved my life, Mother.”
“Such was my love for you. A father by his daughter slain. A life for a life. And from my sin, sprung this great work.” Sister Dee waved at the city around them. “We found this place a ruin. But through the work of clean hands and pure hearts, the children of God claimed a home, did we not? The waters became sweet, Abraham. The pure prospered.”
She walked slowly across the workshop, heels clicking on oily concrete. Cricket was bristling with electronic threat as she reached out and brushed the boy’s face with her fingertips. He could see tears in her eyes. He could see the zealotry that allowed her to threaten to nail babies to crosses, that had driven her to carve this cult out of nothing. And beneath it all, beneath the fanaticism and mania and religious fervor, yes, Cricket could actually see love.
But was it love of her son?
Or love of power?
“I would do it all again, Abraham,” Sister Dee said. “I would kill any man who threatened you. But I cannot kill a dozen of them. Or a hundred. And I cannot let all we have built here go to ruin. For anyone.”
“Mother, I—”
“Do you love me, my son?”
“…Of course I do.”
The woman sighed.
“You should have feared me more.”
Cricket heard heavy footsteps at the doorway, looked up to see two dozen Brothers on the threshold. They were dressed in black, heavyset. All of them were armed, all of them looking at Abraham with cold eyes.
“Mother, no,” Abraham whispered.
“I’m sorry, Abraham,” she said.
“I saved your life last night!”
“This is bigger than just the two of us now.” Sister Dee shook her head, cupped his cheeks in her palms. “This is the city of God.”
The thugs stalked toward the boy, cold eyes and open hands. Cricket took one step forward, but faltered at his second. He was programmed to intercede if a human was being hurt. But he was also programmed not to hurt humans in the course of that intercession.
What could he do?
“Stay back,” Abraham warned the men.
Sister Dee brushed the tears from her eyes. Drew a deep breath.
“Take him,” she whispered.
The men charged. Abraham threw up his hands as the air about him rippled, and a half dozen flew backward as if struck by some invisible force. Cricket heard bones breaking as they hit the walls, cries of agony. The second wave were sprayed with a burst of high-pressure foam from Cricket’s fire suppressors, sending them to their knees, coughing and sputtering. But a few of the bigger thugs made it through, crashing into Abraham and tackling him to the ground.
“Paladin, help me!” the boy cried.
“LET HIM GO!” Cricket roared.
The WarBot stepped forward, blasting the Brothers with his fire suppressors again. If he was careful, he might be able to separate Abraham and his attackers without hurting anyone, if he was lucky, no one would—
“Paladin, shut down!” Sister Dee shouted.
No, I can’t let him get—
A robot must obey.
They’re going to nail him up, his own mother, she’s—
“SHUT DOWN IMMEDIATELY!”
A robot
Must
Obey.
“…ACKNOWLEDGED,” Cricket whispered.
And like a hammer into a cross, darkness fell.
“GRIMM!”
Lemon leapt over the Major’s body, kicked away the fallen pistol and skidded to her knees beside the boy. His teeth were gritted, hand pressed to his chest. The alarms were screaming, a low rumbling echoing through the floor.
“Oh god,” Lemon whispered. “Grimm?”
Her heart was pounding like it was about to burst out of her ribs, and she couldn’t seem to get enough air in her lungs no matter how hard she breathed. The thought he might be hurt, that he might get taken away on top of everything else…it was just too terrifying to think about. But Lemon took Grimm’s hand in hers, pulled it back from his chest, and beneath his shaking fingers, she saw a smoking hole in his camo vest. A melted metal slug, smudged against the armorweave beyond.
“Oh god,” she whispered.
There was no blood.
“Are you okay?”
“Robin…Hood,” he hissed.
She couldn’t imagine how much it must have hurt. That wasn’t exactly a popgun the Major had been waving, and the shot had been almost point-blank. Grimm probably felt like he’d been hit with a brick wrapped inside a truck. But between the heat he’d thrown up and his armor vest, the bullet hadn’t had enough juice to punch through the weave.
He’s okay…
“What the b-bloody hell’s happening?” Grimm gasped.