Halo Goodbye by Nazri Noor (first ebook reader .TXT) 📗

Apollo looked over his shoulder, raising his sunglasses and winking. He grinned, his teeth so perfect and bright that I wanted sunglasses of my own. “Hold on to your butts, boys.”

Without warning, the chariot lurched and took off directly into the sky, blasting through the air like a giant golden bullet. The sound of breaking glass filled my ears as the chariot shattered the walls between dimensions, ferrying us directly from Paradise into Valero. The sheer speed of it pinned me against the seats, forcing the breath out of my lungs. Apollo’s hands were no longer on the steering wheel. The twins screamed in delight, their heads thrown back and their arms up in the air like they were on a rollercoaster.

To either side of me, Florian and Samyaza were screaming, too. I screamed even harder.

17

The meat freezer wasn’t just some locker out in the back of a restaurant, but an actual facility used for storing prepared animal products. I had no doubt that the company serviced proper restaurants throughout Valero, but the fact that they were linked to the Hunger at all invalidated any trace of them being reputable people, to me at least. One bad apple in the bunch and all that.

Our target: a squat, squarish building somewhere in a part of Valero known, appropriately enough, as the Meathook. It was famous for being very dangerous to walk through at night, but also for its assortment of kitschy specialist restaurants. The best tacos, shish kabobs, and pizzas in the city could be found in the Meathook, if you were willing to risk a punch in the face or a knife in the gut to enjoy them. Best to come for lunch, in any case, to avoid the dinner rush and the threat of violence.

This wasn’t just a freezer, but its own freestanding establishment. Business in the back, so to speak, and party in the front, almost literally. Cornucopia, they called themselves, was a shop that offered a curated selection of artisanal favorites culled from around the world, the kind of fare you’d find at some swanky cocktail party, or so their website pretentiously claimed. Fine sparkling wines, rare delectable cheeses, black Iberico ham, all imported and available for competitive prices.

And nephilim meat, too, apparently. Fuckers. I clenched my fingers, my fist shaking.

“So what’s the plan?” Apollo said, leaned back into his seat as he peered over the dashboard, his sparkling golden car the very height of subtlety. I could tell he was enjoying this a little too much, playing the part of a spy, or an agent on a stakeout.

“The plan is to not be such a little kid about this,” Artemis said. “Sit up straight. No one can see you all the way here.”

Technically, she was right. We were parked far across the street, behind a tree, even. Apollo’s chariot stuck out like a sore thumb in the Meathook – and frankly, it would have stuck out most anywhere else on earth – but the bushes in the parking lot at least gave us a little cover.

“But to really answer your question,” Artemis said, “I say we bust in there, the rest of you losers stand aside, and I launch a volley of arrows and pierce everybody through the heart. Artemis saves the day.”

Samyaza grunted, his face stormy, like he couldn’t tell that Artemis was joking. “We don’t know how many of these people are willingly involved in this Hunger business. I can’t condone the killing of innocents.”

Artemis shook her head, but said nothing. So she was joking after all. I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. The truth was that I just wanted to bust in there and start bashing heads and collecting teeth. I nudged Florian with my elbow.

“Do you think you could use your sleeping powder on a larger scale? That poppy flower stuff. Knock them all out, and the rest is easy pickings. We can take our time searching the place.”

“I don’t see why not.” He folded his arms, squinting into the distance at Cornucopia and its floor to ceiling windows. “Let’s see. This shop with all the food upfront, I want to say there’s maybe six, seven people in there? That may or may not include customers.”

Samyaza coughed pointedly. “Innocent customers.”

I coughed myself. “Or, and hear me out, they could be in there asking to buy some nephilim organs.”

Samyaza frowned and said nothing, but he had to know I was right.

“So we’re in agreement,” Apollo said. “We stroll in, Florian puts everybody to sleep. Then we scour the place for the hidden nephilim. But what if there are others? We’re only seeing the front half of the building.”

I cracked my knuckles. “Everybody else is fair game, as far as I’m concerned.”

“We walk in assuming that there are more people hidden in the building,” Artemis said, looking at each of us to make sure we understood. “Okay? I joke a lot, but let’s not be stupid about this. An operation this complex, you know there’s going to be big, stupid men with big, stupid guns in there. Be prepared.”

I nodded. “Shields, then. If necessary.”

“Entirely likely,” Artemis said, nodding. “Unless I shoot off their fingers, first.”

Apollo rolled his eyes. “Brag more, why don’t you?”

With our plan settled, we got out of the car, preparing to strike. Samyaza did a couple of stretches. Apollo patted the top of his chariot’s hood. I did the same, marveling at the warmth of it, not at all like the heat of an engine, but something pleasant, almost pliant, like sunshine made solid.

“She’s a good girl,” Apollo said. “She’ll come running if we need her.”

I patted the chariot again. “Sentient getaway car? My kind of gal.”

Apollo laughed, slinging his arm across my shoulders. “Come on, kid. We’ve got a nephilim to rescue.”

The five of us stopped at the sidewalk, looking both ways before we crossed. It struck me as immensely funny in the moment, considering the butt-kicking we were theoretically about to hand out, but I