Worlds War One

xxix [Badia]

She stared down at the girl, who kind of reminded her of her eldest daughter, Mary. Headstrong and brave, the soldier had been fearless in the face of things that would give Bad nightmares for the rest of her life. When the time had come for sacrifice, Private Callie Golden had given herself up for the team. For the mission. Badia could not fail now. She wouldn't leave this young woman behind, soulless and eternally asleep.

"I'll keep your spirit safe until we can get it back where it belongs," Bad promised the unconscious soldier—her consciousness now resided within the obol.

They left her in a bed upstairs in the alien saloon. The E.T. named Greg promised to care for her soulless form. Bad wasn't sure what planet she was on anymore when she had to trust sleeping beauty to a martian, but it seemed to be just another Tuesday in the Wider World.

"Are you sure about this?" Seaman Choi asked.

"I'm not sure about anything anymore," Bad replied. "But I can't think of any other option. We're exploring some seriously uncharted territory here, Seaman. Maybe there's a genie in a bottle that can get us where we need to go or a magic broomstick, but I can't rely on maybes. I have to trust my assets, and right now, Saanvi and Penina are providing our only dependable intelligence."

"Then our fate is in the hands of a Demon and whatever the animated mannequin is?"

"Says the half-Angel," Bad quipped.

Seaman Choi winced. Did that possible truth sting? "Unverified."

But Seaman Choi didn't look like he disbelieved it. Bad had read his file. All their files. The greenies had something in common—an open mind. In Ji-Sung Choi's case, he was very different from his siblings. Another misfit, like all the others in her squad. He had strived to impress his father. He'd never felt like he fit in. Perhaps because Seaman Choi was indeed the illegitimate offspring of an Angel and a Human? Maybe one of his parents had a halo?

They left Private Golden slumbering in a bed like Snow White, waiting to be awakened by some prince. Not a fitting situation for a young woman who could kick some major butt and didn't need saving by any kind of royal hero. Badia surveyed her remaining squad as she stood sentry at the door, all of them filing out one-by-one. None of them was a prince. Saanvi didn't even glance back as she exited the room. One of their group was an actual princess, and she certainly wasn't charming. Airman Fox stayed behind the longest, looking down at the empty shell of Callie Golden. He touched her hand, an oath on his lips, then he left last.

Saanvi led them out of the saloon and down the street. Badia examined their surroundings, mindful of positions that could be sniper posts or a perfect place to mount an attack. She had an escape plan in her mind that constantly changed with the landscape. Drill walked directly on her four o'clock, his small, beaded eyes scanning the same scenarios. But Drill didn't acknowledge the exotic surroundings of the Lost City, or he would have gone gaga as soon as they'd left Tokyo.

Bad couldn't help but appreciate the alien architecture. At the saloon, she had noticed a conical structure that seemed to incorporate geometric design unconcerned with aesthetic. The front facade of one building mimicked the horn on an old gramophone—another form shaped into an autumn cornucopia. The next featured a roof resembling an upside-down funnel.

No cars cluttered the avenues. Streets were more like wide sidewalks where no conveyance passed the pedestrians, all entities on foot—mostly E.T.s, other horned Demons with indigo skin and forked tails, a Ghost here and there flickering in and out, Humans intermingling with creatures of myth. Bad didn't see another Magi, but she remained on the lookout. She was sure the sorcerous trio that had attacked them in the saloon would be back for more ...

They passed from alien ambiance into a neighborhood of stone and sod. The pathway through the Lost City transformed from a smooth silicate surface into a cobblestone route between brick buildings, boulevards burgeoning with flowerbeds and luscious lawns. Moss grew up one storefront while vines covered the next. It was like a forest fused with a metropolis, a mishmash of rural and urban. A tall structure stretched skyward, trees growing perpendicular up the sides like a thicket of woods turned on its end, an effect dazzling and dizzying. Bad noticed that Drill purposely aimed his eyes the other way.

"This is the neighborhood where I grew up," Penina said. "It's the home of the Golems. Weeee have a different sense of style than the Extra-Terrestriiiials."

"Golems?" Private Ramírez asked. He seemed very curious about the nature of Penina. Private Ramírez hadn't taken his eyes off the porcelain creature since she'd smacked Seaman Choi halfway across the saloon. "One of my dads is Jewish. He would tell me the story of Judah Loew ben Bezalel, who created a Golem to protect the Jews of Prague from the Holy Roman Emperor."

"Yes, heeee is called Yossele. Now heeee lives in Crown Heights in Brooklyn," Penina affirmed. "The legend differs from realityyyy. Historiiiians have twisted bits of truth into lore. Vampires, witches, werewolves, poltergeists. It's commonlyyyy something somewhat different than the books and movieeees show. They want you to dismiss it as fantastical as to beeee less beeeelieeeevable. The truth is usuallyyyy two twists from the telling. Weeee don't want too manyyyy peeeeople to know that most of it is mostlyyyy reeeeal."

"You're made of clay?" Private Ramírez inquired.

"Weeee are made of earthlyyyy materials," Penina explained. "Some Golems are mostlyyyy stone, some mainlyyyy sticks, and loam. Moss and mud make others. Weeee can reeeemake ourselves into whatever materiiiials weeee wish. I have sculpted this form from marble, deeeetailing my feeeeatures throughout manyyyy yeeeears."

"It's quite beautiful," Private Ramírez complimented.

"Thank you," the Golem replied, and Bad wondered if marble could blush.

"Where is this gateway to the Forsaken Land?" Saanvi asked, impatient and irritated by distraction on subjects she was undoubtedly already an expert.

"You have to get through us," said a Magi standing on the cobblestone path directly in their way. Argyro and Hristos had returned, a pair instead of a trio, Elena presumably still lost in time. Instead of a sneak attack or an assault from high ground, the two Magi encountered Bad's squad like true warriors—face-to-face.

"We defeated you already, Hristos," Saanvi said. "And now there are two of you instead of three. No allies. No Elena. No chance."

Argyro removed her bowler hat, holding it in front of her like she was begging for money. "We didn't come unprepared," the Magi warned. "You've left us no other choice, Princess Saanvi."

"What have you done, Argyro?" Saanvi hissed.

"You have allied with a Ghost, a Golem, and an amnesiac cupid. You have a complement of Human soldiers. A formidable squad," the Magi replied. "So, we brought a dragon."