Abyss

Prologue

Prologue

New Gotham—November 13, 2105

Tupperman was sick at heart.

He marched through the netherzones of New Gotham, not really seeing the people around him. The underground level used by commuters was darker than usual, a result of electricity rations, but the dim light suited Tupperman’s mood perfectly.

Three more dead.

Eighteen so far.

The ranks of the Watchful Host were being culled. Worse, Tupperman feared it was his fault. He had not only been the one to persuade so many of the angelic host to shed their wings and join the fight to save humanity, but he’d supplied the intelligence that had led to this particular raid on the hidden headquarters of the Brotherhood.

He’d never expected his own brethren to be killed in this realm. He’d never expected them to be targeted. This last incident had been yet another baited trap. He’d heard the crowing over those deaths on the illicit frequencies of the Republic first thing this morning and been sickened by it.

He couldn’t bear his own sense of responsibility.

He walked toward his scheduled meeting, his thoughts churning as he sought another explanation, one that didn’t put the blame at his own feet.

It had been four years since the angelic host had appeared in the skies over the Republic. Four years since everything should have been repaired, but it had been four years in which strife had been fueled by economic turbulence and shortages. The Brotherhood was the loudest voice of dissent, but not the only one.

It all came back to the shades.

Until recently, every child born in the Republic had been assessed under the Sub-Human Atomic Deviant Evaluation as a matter of routine. The test separated those babies damaged by radiation exposure in utero from the healthy population. Those babies who failed the evaluation became the property of the state, laboring in the darkness of the netherzones for the good of the Republic. For many citizens, they were out of sight and out of mind. From the acronym of the test’s name—S.H.A.D.E.—had evolved the colloquial name for those humans compelled to live in the shadows.

The angelic host had healed the shades, and they had been liberated from the darkness of the netherzones. Now the former shades were citizens, but resentment in the Republic clearly ran high.

Joachim had been right.

Tupperman had been with Joachim when the blinding light of angelfire had touched the earth. Tupperman had believed his earthly quest complete but the jaded circus owner had insisted that it was not enough to set the Republic on the right path. The other man’s despair for the future had convinced Tupperman to stay, although he’d never believed that Joachim would be proven so right.

Tupperman had not only remained himself: he had convinced more angels to shed their wings and take flesh in the quest to save the souls of mortal men.

And now they were being slaughtered.

Exactly where he told them to be.

The many angels who had volunteered that night had formed the Watchful Host, an elite corps reporting directly to the President and tasked with making the new Republic work. They were openly known to be fallen angels. In contrast, Tupperman’s network was of angels who had shed their wings earlier and remained disguised as mortal men. He used those angels as well as a few trusted humans to find data for the Watchful Host.

But they had been betrayed.

Eighteen lost angels were already on his conscience.

How many more would there be?

Tupperman clenched his fists as he walked, frustrated that there was so little he could do. He felt volatile and cheated, angry and vengeful—all very human reactions.

“You all right, Tupperman?”

Tupperman started at the familiar voice. He spun to find Jackson, his contact at the Watchful Host, close behind him. Along with Jackson was Pierce, another of the elite corps who often attended their meetings.

Tupperman was startled. He didn’t realize he’d walked all the way to his contact point. A quick glance revealed his fellows were as troubled by the morning’s events as he was.

Dark-haired and dark-eyed, Pierce tended to be quiet, thoughtful and intense. He was also keenly observant. Jackson, with his easy smile and vague air of being disreputable, was the fallen angel most at ease in the mortal realm of all those Tupperman had known. He had taken to this sphere as if it were more natural to him than the heavens he’d abandoned. He had a charm that made him easy company, but was no fool.

“I’m as well as can be expected,” Tupperman said. “And you?”

“Troubled,” Jackson agreed, his tone somber, and they all nodded agreement. The pair flanked Tupperman as they continued to walk, their confidence and vitality making him feel better. These were his real fellows and they would know more about whatever had gone wrong.

“What happened?” he prompted when they said nothing.

The pair exchanged a quick glance, one Tupperman guessed he wasn’t supposed to notice. He felt a sudden chill, an intuitive sense that he wouldn’t like what was said.

“You shouldn’t blame yourself,” Jackson said. “These things happen.”

“Intelligence is a tricky business,” Pierce said mildly.

There it was. Tupperman felt as if a shadow had passed over him. He wasn’t the only one who felt he was culpable.

“Is that an accusation?” He looked between the pair, wanting his impression to be proven wrong but doubting it would be.

Pierce averted his gaze.

“We acted upon the intelligence you provided, and it was a baited trap.” Jackson kept his voice light, but Tupperman heard the implication. “They knew exactly when we were coming, how many of us there would be, and our precise plan of attack. It was too accurate to be guesswork, Tupperman.”

“A leak.” Did they suspect Tupperman personally of betraying his kind, or someone in his network?

It was unthinkable that any of his associates could have undermined this morning’s raid—he knew them all. It was also beyond belief that anyone had infiltrated his network—with Ferris and the Wraiths on his side, his security was airtight.

The leak had to be within the Watchful Host.

“It’s not at our end,” Jackson said with finality. “We’ve been over every link today, and have added layers of security since the attacks began.” The other fallen angel slanted a quick glance at Tupperman, one filled with assessment.

Tupperman was struck by Pierce’s silence and took it as an indication that he had already been condemned.

“It’s not like you to be fooled by anyone,” Jackson added.

“I haven’t been. Have you?”

Jackson smiled thinly. “Then you’re trusting the wrong people. We need full access to your network and we need it immediately. We’ll have to verify every one with access to your data…”

“No.” Tupperman responded immediately and with conviction. If there was a leak at their end or a spy in their ranks, the last thing he wanted was to expose his own team.

He wouldn’t add them to any executioner’s list.

Jackson cleared his throat. “Your team needs to be fully integrated with the Watchful Host’s intelligence operations, Tupperman. We’ve talked about this before and your resistance isn’t popular.”

“I have to defend them. I owe them that.”

“And what do you owe us? This command is from the top, and it makes sense given recent events.” Jackson spoke firmly. “You must give us access to your network.”

“No.” Their gazes locked and held for an electric moment, but Tupperman wouldn’t be persuaded to make this choice.

Jackson’s lips tightened and he looked away, as if he understood as much. “Recognize, Tupperman, that it’s only a matter of time before someone begins to wonder whether you really believed the intelligence you provided.”

“I wouldn’t have provided it otherwise.” Tupperman spoke tightly.

“There have already been suggestions that you were knowingly a part of the trap. You should know that an internal inquiry has been launched.” Jackson watched him coolly. “You could be charged, and I needn’t remind you that cooperation will be considered in your favor.”

That he could be so quickly distrusted in the face of adversity was a shock to Tupperman, but then he was the outsider. Maybe it was easier than looking more closely within their own ranks.

Or was he being framed? Tupperman’s thoughts flew. By whom? It was clear the Brotherhood of Honest Laborers didn’t want to be identified, and he’d welcomed the assignment of unveiling of their members. He must be too close to the truth.

“Maybe this would be a good time for you to take a break,” Jackson said serenely. Tupperman looked up as the other angel smiled but for once Jackson’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Go on vacation. I can’t find any reference that you ever have.”

Tupperman’s thoughts flew. Jackson—and potentially others—had been through his records, and probably not just checking on his time off.

He had to save Ferris and the others.

He had to sever the only connection between the two, by breaking his own contact with both. To ensure that he couldn’t be compelled to share what was in his memory alone, he had to disappear.

“Because you won’t be using me for the duration of the inquiry, if not longer,” Tupperman guessed quietly.

Jackson didn’t correct him, which was all the answer Tupperman needed.

“A vacation is a good idea,” he agreed. “You’re right. I haven’t taken a break in a while.”

“I can arrange a leave for you. No problem.” Jackson continued to smile that strange false smile.

“Thank you. I’ll attend the vigil for the fallen soldiers, then go.”

“Any plans?” Pierce asked, and Tupperman knew that the persons framing him wouldn’t be the only ones interested in his destination.

He fought warring inclinations as they walked. On the one hand, he wanted to remain in New Gotham and hunt down the real security leak. On the other, he wanted to be as far as possible from the hub of the Republic and all its watchful eyes.

His fingers found the stone in his pocket, the one he’d found after asking to remain on that night four years before. It had been his only clue that he’d been assigned a new quest.

You will know when it is time, Turiel.

He remembered the angelic voice that had echoed in his dreams and knew the time had come to pursue this mission. The stone he carried was Trinitite. He’d discovered that shortly after finding it in his fist when he’d awakened one morning. He’d later learned that the pale green stone had been created in one location only, at the site of the Trinity nuclear test in New Mexico—when the heat of the explosion had fused the desert sand to glass. Trinitite.

He’d commence his own quest, while he still had life in his veins to do so. He’d go to New Mexico and uncover the truth he’d been chosen to reveal.

Whatever it was.

“I think I’ll go to California,” he lied, because the train leaving New Gotham would be the same one. “I’ve always wondered whether it was real.”

Jackson laughed. “Sounds like a good time to find out.”

The power went out suddenly and completely, plunging the netherzone into greater darkness. A shortage of electricity was one of the unwelcome legacies of the change in the Republic. Without shade labor, there was little power—or anything else. Light still came through the skylights from the street above, but the skylights were so dirty that the amount of light was minimal.

“Look at all the jobs for shades,” someone cried, emboldened by the anonymity offered by the shadows. “Skylights to clean and power to generate, but that work’s not good enough for them anymore.”

“Not since the President set them free,” said another.

“Not since the angels made the Republic a little corner of heaven.”

“No, now they want my job,” declared another man. A bitter laugh rolled through the crowd. Tupperman listened uneasily.

“They want all of our jobs,” shouted another. “Our houses and daughters, too.”

“So we can have deformed grandchildren,” a woman concluded with bitterness.

There was discomfort with that last comment and a wary silence fell. Tupperman noted that Jackson and Pierce were back to back, the sight of their uniforms silencing those citizens closest to them. There was resentment in more than one face, and he took leave of his fellows, slipping into the darkness, but fully expecting to be followed.

What would he find in New Mexico? What injustice had he been dispatched to correct? Tupperman didn’t know, but he trusted in the power that had sent him to this sphere. He would complete his own mission, if it was the last deed on earth he did.