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    Exiled Flame
    Exiled Flame
    Exiled Flame
    Ebook126 pages1 hour

    Exiled Flame

    By Julian M. Miles

    ()

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    About this ebook

    DS Tanner and DC Reeves don’t know why this gang are stealing bodies, nor do they know where they get the advanced technology they use to ensure their successes. They’re sure the military know more than they admit, and there’s a hacker involved in ways that are supposed to be impossible.
    They need to get lucky, and soon.

    Narbyl is doing the best he can to protect his people. Until they stop coming, he’ll continue to do what he has to, and deal with any consequences as they arise. However, what arrived today may have consequences beyond belief.

    If he’s unlucky, it’s going to kill millions.

    A tale about angels, bodysnatching, criminal investigation, demons, goddesses, hacking, loyalty, and magic in a cyberpunk future London.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJulian M. Miles
    Release dateOct 19, 2021
    ISBN9781005120962
    Exiled Flame
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    Author

    Julian M. Miles

    Julian’s first loves were science fantasy and magic; the blending of ancient and futuristic. This led him to a love of speculative fiction, initially as a reader, then as a reader and writer.He started writing at school, extended into writing role-playing game scenarios, and thence into bardic storytelling. In 2011 he published his first books, in 2012 he released more (along with the smallest complete role-playing system in the world).With over 30 books published in digital and physical formats, he has no intention of stopping this writing lark anytime soon, and he'd be delighted if you'd care to join him for a book or two.

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      Book preview

      Exiled Flame - Julian M. Miles

      Exiled Flame

      A Cyberpunk/Fantasy Mystery

      by Julian M. Miles

      Copyright 2021 Julian M. Miles

      Smashwords Edition

      ***

      Smashwords Edition, License Notes:

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      *****

      Contents

      Toh

      About the Author

      Connect with Julian Miles

      Other Books by Julian Miles

      Credits

      *****

      Toh

      Nineteen, eighteen, seventeen, -

      Liddy’s eyes go wide: She’s early!

      Thaj. The last thing we need is something to attract even more attention.

      Scrap the count! Two, one, strike!

      We go through the double doors. Pashta drops the security guards and staff with one shot. Coffee and documents go everywhere as the misaligned suppressor field affects the surroundings in ways it shouldn’t.

      What the bloody hell?

      Tarme puts a shoulder into the big man’s chest before he can say anything else, then follows him down and chops him unconscious.

      Liddy and Kon somersault down the stairs, arriving at the bottom faster than those down there expect. I hear twin impacts. There are two bodies stretched out on the floor by the time we go by, one a guard, the other dressed like the big man upstairs.

      Kon kicks the doors open. Tarme charges through, knocking one attendant down and away. Pashta tackles the other off a prone form who is kicking and cursing in Nethalyn.

      "Shon ko, mistress. Look into that mind. You know these words. We come to help."

      The struggling stops. Hazel eyes narrow. Without a word, she gathers herself into a crouch. Tarme catches my eye, waves a finger by his temple in the sign for ‘Weaver’. I look back. He’s right. Her eyes are leaving tiny trails of sparks as she moves her head. Thaj, thaj, thaj. I was hoping for a simple night.

      "Irik’taa, mistress. What were you?"

      The head stops moving and the eyes focus on me. They flash amber, then she looks puzzled. I think we’ve had dark trouble delivered to us.

      We are Shonnu, soldier. What powerless wilderness have we been condemned to? She scrapes at her tongue with glittering nails. What is this language?

      Liddy squeaks. Kon goes white.

      Pashta whispers: "Guthane."

      We found out last time there isn’t a word here that translates that accurately. Which is still right, and still frightening. But I can’t let us stall until we adjust. It took a while, last time.

      "Upya! Let’s get gone like we’re not limited, people. Double clear."

      I help newbodied Shonnu up and beat a hasty retreat. Pashta and Tarme take point and tail. Liddy and Kon pause to arm and release a pair of clean-up drones apiece before following. I hate to waste two, but we can’t risk leaving even a slight trace. Not after this.

      One

      The steps are spotless. The two constables at the top are wearing respirators. Detective Constable Pete Reeves knows what happened before the smell of bleach hits him. Getting closer, he can see the pale runnels cut through the grime on the pavement where the caustic mixture trickled from steps to gutter.

      He looks up to see Detective Sergeant Meredith Tanner heading his way from inside, complexion showing pale round the mask she’s pressing to her face.

      Exiting the building in a hurry, she swerves round him and comes to a stop at the kerb. Pulling the mask away, she takes several deep breaths before coughing for long enough to attract the attention of everyone within hearing range.

      Pete rests his backside against a rear panel of the patrol car where she's leaning on the bonnet.

      Morning, boss. Something new or a variant of same?

      Meredith raises a finger, takes a slow breath, then hacks and spits into the gutter.

      Both.

      She folds and crumples the cheap mask before dropping it in the bin liner hanging off the side door of the CSI van. Grabbing a pair of respirators off a rack in the same van, she tosses one to Pete and heads back inside, donning hers as she goes.

      Come and see.

      He hurries to follow his boss down the corridors of New Monument Hospital, one of the first built after the SARS-3 panic of ’23. It’s bright in here. They tried for cheerful, hit garish instead. It’s also very clean. Wide, airy corridors with carpet tiles in beige and cream - where the bleaching drones didn’t hit.

      The reception area looks like someone was searching for something. Everything has been thrown about. He peers over the counter, then up. Warped tiles floor and ceiling, again. But the coffee stains all over the place are something new.

      Pete.

      She sounds raspy. Even with a respirator on, the acrid smell of enhanced bleach warring with neutraliser is irritating his throat. He knows Meredith’s got something like asthma: this place must be difficult for her.

      I’m fine. Stupidly thought I could tough it out until the extractors cleared the basement. Had to grab a throwaway mask so I could make it up and out without keeling over.

      It’s like she heard his thought. Which is why they work so well together – most of the time.

      Must be something new for them to use even more of their mutant bleach.

      This time they were helping someone out.

      She pauses at the top of the stairs with the sign saying ‘Mortuary Only’ on a wall nearby. He stops and points to the sign.

      They stole a diener?

      What?

      One of the staff.

      She shakes her head.

      No. According to testimony from both attendants, and confirmed by CCTV recordings, they left with one of the bodies, but not in their usual way. Which is why I interrupted your holiday. I badly need your eyes. You’ve been chasing down the details. I hope you can shed some sane on the crazy we’ve got here.

      He half-bows and swings a magnanimous gesture towards the stairs.

      I’ll do my best. Lead on.

      Downstairs, the fumes have nearly cleared. It’s deserted except for two crime scene technicians, a harried-looking constable, and an irate man in a white lab coat, who lunges toward Meredith as soon as he spots her.

      Did you have to run off? I was about to explain how sometimes diagnosis of death is inaccurate, which this was obviously a case of. Really, there’s no need for a fuss.

      Meredith stops dead and glares at him.

      Doctor Stansen, the deceased had her head stove in with a hammer, an attack witnessed by three people. That hammer is secured in the evidence room at my police station, along with the testimony of those three people, a paramedic, and two police officers.

      A deep scalp wound…

      She raises her hand: We’ll be in touch, with a nod to the constable, show the doctor upstairs, please.

      Pete watches them disappear up the stairs before letting the incredulity flood out.

      A hammer? Tallia Kinch got up and walked out?

      Meredith shakes her head.

      Identification error. It was Musette Kinch all along. Tallia is flying back into the country to identify the body. A body that apparently came back to life and left the building, ably assisted by our favourite five.

      She raises a hand, fingers spread.

      I better get someone senior ready to do the apologising in case we don’t retrieve her body.

      Pete chuckles.

      Optimistic of you. Getting one back would be our first win against this bunch.

      Just checking my phrasing for the request. ‘Ever hopeful’ is a popular outlook up the line.

      I’ll take your word on that. So, what did the main event look like?

      Meredith points at a wall and whistles. The nearest crime scene technician looks over and waves for her to carry on. She leans on the wall

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