tearing heads from bodies, arms from torsos, shredding skin from limbs in long, red-ribbon curls.
If Piper returned, would the peacekeepers be there to meet her?
Did someone, somewhere, know what she’d done — what she’d learned?
And if they did, would she be tried and found guilty, ripped to bits? Or would she be propped up again, secretly watched, kept as the necessary companion to the powerful Meyer Dempsey? Meyer had done that with Raj, after all. His granddaughter needed a respectable father, so Raj had officially (and compulsorily) become family. Piper’s visibility and public popularity might be her get-out-of-jail-free card. If so, maybe the worst she’d endure would be a sort of slavery at home.
Piper was consulting the card, trying to work out the unknown church’s position relative to hers, when she heard the tapping of stone on stone.
She knew the rhythm: a peacekeeper behind her.
Piper’s breath quickened. Her heartbeat doubled its speed. She pressed her back to the building.
Piper could hear the thing coming. Then she could see it.
The Reptar was facing the opposite way. Piper fell back slowly, without any idea of how well the creature could hear. Did it sense every step, biding its time before turning to confront her, its skin giving off its curious blue glow between ebony scales, eyes dialing in and shifting their colors, its mouth open to display row upon row of teeth like thorns? Or would she remain invisible to its senses unless it turned?
Could other senses give her away?
Peacekeepers had bodies not unlike a large dog, but they moved like bugs on four legs. Limbs skipped too quickly, at odd angles, buckling and twitching, pausing and reanimating when their interest was captured. They could bound like predators, but their movement had a curious burst-pause-burst pattern, like a scurrying spider.
If it turned now, the Reptar could be breathing down her throat within a second or two.
Or — since the creatures seemed to always breathe in rather than out — it might be sucking down her throat. Subtly pulling her into its too-far-unhinged jaw, toward that needle teeth forest.
Could it smell her?
Could it somehow taste Piper on the air, like a snake’s bifurcated tongue?
The Titans looked like idealized men and women — strong, powerful, almost Zen. Reptars were the opposite.
Maybe they saw through compound eyes, like a honeybee.
Maybe they saw through sonar, like a bat.
Maybe they saw in infrared or ultraviolet or X-rays. Maybe it could see Piper now, as she slipped around a corner.
She’d never imagined that a Reptar could see through walls, but who knew what senses an alien species might have evolved?
Piper waited, her breath shallow and held, heartbeat like a snared rabbit’s. She listened. She heard the clack of its somehow hard-ended feet on stone. She heard the short inhale as purred — smelling for her, perhaps.
Or maybe it was out on a normal patrol, minding its normal duties to the city: allowing those who didn’t cause trouble to stay, while slaying the troublemakers.
Maybe she could walk right by the thing, and it would let her go. But Piper didn’t want to find out. Reptars weren’t dumb animals. They’d stop you. Assess you. Interview you in their invasive way … but because humans couldn’t communicate directly with Reptars in any meaningful fashion, it was hard to plead a decent case.
The clicking, inhaling, rattling sounds receded. After a breathless moment, Piper exhaled, her eyes closing of their own accord.
She had to reach the church. The place Terrence had so heartily dismissed in words — then endorsed when push came to shove.
She ran through the guts of Heaven’s Veil, hearing the rattle of bones at every corner.
C HAPTER 13
It took Piper a while to find the church. She had no familiarity with this part of Heaven’s Veil and felt somewhat guilty for her ignorance. She was apparently too fancy for the city’s lesser quarters — and this
If Piper returned, would the peacekeepers be there to meet her?
Did someone, somewhere, know what she’d done — what she’d learned?
And if they did, would she be tried and found guilty, ripped to bits? Or would she be propped up again, secretly watched, kept as the necessary companion to the powerful Meyer Dempsey? Meyer had done that with Raj, after all. His granddaughter needed a respectable father, so Raj had officially (and compulsorily) become family. Piper’s visibility and public popularity might be her get-out-of-jail-free card. If so, maybe the worst she’d endure would be a sort of slavery at home.
Piper was consulting the card, trying to work out the unknown church’s position relative to hers, when she heard the tapping of stone on stone.
She knew the rhythm: a peacekeeper behind her.
Piper’s breath quickened. Her heartbeat doubled its speed. She pressed her back to the building.
Piper could hear the thing coming. Then she could see it.
The Reptar was facing the opposite way. Piper fell back slowly, without any idea of how well the creature could hear. Did it sense every step, biding its time before turning to confront her, its skin giving off its curious blue glow between ebony scales, eyes dialing in and shifting their colors, its mouth open to display row upon row of teeth like thorns? Or would she remain invisible to its senses unless it turned?
Could other senses give her away?
Peacekeepers had bodies not unlike a large dog, but they moved like bugs on four legs. Limbs skipped too quickly, at odd angles, buckling and twitching, pausing and reanimating when their interest was captured. They could bound like predators, but their movement had a curious burst-pause-burst pattern, like a scurrying spider.
If it turned now, the Reptar could be breathing down her throat within a second or two.
Or — since the creatures seemed to always breathe in rather than out — it might be sucking down her throat. Subtly pulling her into its too-far-unhinged jaw, toward that needle teeth forest.
Could it smell her?
Could it somehow taste Piper on the air, like a snake’s bifurcated tongue?
The Titans looked like idealized men and women — strong, powerful, almost Zen. Reptars were the opposite.
Maybe they saw through compound eyes, like a honeybee.
Maybe they saw through sonar, like a bat.
Maybe they saw in infrared or ultraviolet or X-rays. Maybe it could see Piper now, as she slipped around a corner.
She’d never imagined that a Reptar could see through walls, but who knew what senses an alien species might have evolved?
Piper waited, her breath shallow and held, heartbeat like a snared rabbit’s. She listened. She heard the clack of its somehow hard-ended feet on stone. She heard the short inhale as purred — smelling for her, perhaps.
Or maybe it was out on a normal patrol, minding its normal duties to the city: allowing those who didn’t cause trouble to stay, while slaying the troublemakers.
Maybe she could walk right by the thing, and it would let her go. But Piper didn’t want to find out. Reptars weren’t dumb animals. They’d stop you. Assess you. Interview you in their invasive way … but because humans couldn’t communicate directly with Reptars in any meaningful fashion, it was hard to plead a decent case.
The clicking, inhaling, rattling sounds receded. After a breathless moment, Piper exhaled, her eyes closing of their own accord.
She had to reach the church. The place Terrence had so heartily dismissed in words — then endorsed when push came to shove.
She ran through the guts of Heaven’s Veil, hearing the rattle of bones at every corner.
C HAPTER 13
It took Piper a while to find the church. She had no familiarity with this part of Heaven’s Veil and felt somewhat guilty for her ignorance. She was apparently too fancy for the city’s lesser quarters — and this
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