Read Online Age of Shiva (The Pantheon Series) by James Lovegrove - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: James Lovegrove
Tags: Science-Fiction
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confer with them. Around me people murmured and exchanged looks. They seemed as much in the dark as I was.
Had she really said demon ?
“Ah, everyone, if I could have your attention,” said Lombard, hands raised. “Really. Shut your flaming gobs, will you? Okay. There are reports coming in – from one of my own news networks, as it happens – of ructions in New York. It’s looking pretty much like an asura. Which sort, Aanandi?”
“A rakshasa, I think,” said Aanandi. “Unless it’s just some maniac on the loose. But I don’t think it is.”
“A rakshasa is attacking commuters on their way to work in Manhattan. Now, we, well, we sort of suspected we might have to face something like this. Maybe not so soon, but still. We’ve generated gods” – he indicated the Avatars – “and that was bound to create some sort of blowback. No coincidence, just karmic balance. Gods appear, so demons come crawling out of the woodwork. It’s a contingency we’ve anticipated and prepared for. Fellas?”
He was addressing the Dashavatara directly now.
“Hate to do this to you. You’ve barely put on your glad rags, and already we’re asking you to go out there and get busy.”
Parashurama took a step forward from the others, snapping off a sharp military salute. He was a broad-shouldered man-mountain, massively muscled, almost as wide as he was tall. I’ve seen bodybuilders less statuesque than him. 2
“Sir,” he said, “we are ready. This is what we were meant for. What we’ve trained for all this time. Let us go.”
Lombard was mightily gratified by this response. “Do you speak for all ten of you, Parashurama?”
Without even turning round to check, Parashurama said, “Yes.”
In next to no time the Garuda had been fuelled and prepped for takeoff, the Dashavatara were aboard, and the multi-platform adaptable personnel transporter was leaving its hangar and hauling out to sea, jet engine burring. It whisked off across the water and then was up, up and away, leaping aloft to commence its slingshot journey across Africa and the Atlantic to America.
1 “Turtle-esque.”
2 Secret Origin: His real name was Tyler Weston, and he was a Harvard valedictorian and an alumnus of West Point, joining the 3rd Ranger Battalion immediately afterwards as a second lieutenant. His father had been an enlisted man, and his grandfather. The army ran through his veins like magma through the Earth’s crust.
11. A RAKSHASA AT GRAND CENTRAL
D OZENS OF US were gathered in one of the rec rooms, glued to the television. It had been four hours since the Garuda left. The Dashavatara were due to be touching down on the US East Coast any moment.
There were techies present and backroom boys and all sorts. Some of the domestic staff mingled among us, chattering to one another in mellifluous Divehi.
Aanandi, however, was nowhere to be seen. She had gone off with the Trinity to help oversee the Avatars’ departure, and when she didn’t return, that was when it dawned on me that she ranked higher in the pecking order than I had thought. My assumption had been that she was a minion, more or less on my level, a fellow underling, but it seemed she was close to the inner circle, if not inside it.
I felt disappointed about this, and obscurely threatened too. The disparity in our status ought not to be a stumbling block. It wouldn’t prevent anything of a romantic nature developing between us. Would it? Then again, maybe this explained why, even though we had been getting on well together, I hadn’t been making any real headway with her. That or my smouldering sexual allure was just not compelling enough, which was inconceivable.
The TV was tuned to a 24-hour rolling news channel, Lombard’s very own US-based Epic News, which had first broken the story of the horrific assaults on commuters alighting from early-morning trains at New York’s Grand Central Station. The reporting was confused. No one had a clear idea
Had she really said demon ?
“Ah, everyone, if I could have your attention,” said Lombard, hands raised. “Really. Shut your flaming gobs, will you? Okay. There are reports coming in – from one of my own news networks, as it happens – of ructions in New York. It’s looking pretty much like an asura. Which sort, Aanandi?”
“A rakshasa, I think,” said Aanandi. “Unless it’s just some maniac on the loose. But I don’t think it is.”
“A rakshasa is attacking commuters on their way to work in Manhattan. Now, we, well, we sort of suspected we might have to face something like this. Maybe not so soon, but still. We’ve generated gods” – he indicated the Avatars – “and that was bound to create some sort of blowback. No coincidence, just karmic balance. Gods appear, so demons come crawling out of the woodwork. It’s a contingency we’ve anticipated and prepared for. Fellas?”
He was addressing the Dashavatara directly now.
“Hate to do this to you. You’ve barely put on your glad rags, and already we’re asking you to go out there and get busy.”
Parashurama took a step forward from the others, snapping off a sharp military salute. He was a broad-shouldered man-mountain, massively muscled, almost as wide as he was tall. I’ve seen bodybuilders less statuesque than him. 2
“Sir,” he said, “we are ready. This is what we were meant for. What we’ve trained for all this time. Let us go.”
Lombard was mightily gratified by this response. “Do you speak for all ten of you, Parashurama?”
Without even turning round to check, Parashurama said, “Yes.”
In next to no time the Garuda had been fuelled and prepped for takeoff, the Dashavatara were aboard, and the multi-platform adaptable personnel transporter was leaving its hangar and hauling out to sea, jet engine burring. It whisked off across the water and then was up, up and away, leaping aloft to commence its slingshot journey across Africa and the Atlantic to America.
1 “Turtle-esque.”
2 Secret Origin: His real name was Tyler Weston, and he was a Harvard valedictorian and an alumnus of West Point, joining the 3rd Ranger Battalion immediately afterwards as a second lieutenant. His father had been an enlisted man, and his grandfather. The army ran through his veins like magma through the Earth’s crust.
11. A RAKSHASA AT GRAND CENTRAL
D OZENS OF US were gathered in one of the rec rooms, glued to the television. It had been four hours since the Garuda left. The Dashavatara were due to be touching down on the US East Coast any moment.
There were techies present and backroom boys and all sorts. Some of the domestic staff mingled among us, chattering to one another in mellifluous Divehi.
Aanandi, however, was nowhere to be seen. She had gone off with the Trinity to help oversee the Avatars’ departure, and when she didn’t return, that was when it dawned on me that she ranked higher in the pecking order than I had thought. My assumption had been that she was a minion, more or less on my level, a fellow underling, but it seemed she was close to the inner circle, if not inside it.
I felt disappointed about this, and obscurely threatened too. The disparity in our status ought not to be a stumbling block. It wouldn’t prevent anything of a romantic nature developing between us. Would it? Then again, maybe this explained why, even though we had been getting on well together, I hadn’t been making any real headway with her. That or my smouldering sexual allure was just not compelling enough, which was inconceivable.
The TV was tuned to a 24-hour rolling news channel, Lombard’s very own US-based Epic News, which had first broken the story of the horrific assaults on commuters alighting from early-morning trains at New York’s Grand Central Station. The reporting was confused. No one had a clear idea
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