by R S Penney
Ben came toward her – well, his shoes did, anyway; she couldn't find the strength to look up – and stopped to let out a sigh. “I'd say I owe you one,” he began. “But at this point, I'm thinking we might be even.”
“Definitely even.”
It came to her that everything was quiet now. The sound of gunfire – even the dim buzzing of Leyrian weapons – was gone, and there were no explosions. She could still hear the crackle of flames.
“Is it over?”
Ben squatted down in front of her, head hanging as he heaved out a breath. “Yeah, I think so,” he muttered, nodding. “The people on our side took down the last ziarogat, but I'm not sure what's happening at the other barricade.”
Anna squeezed her eyes shut, groaning with displeasure. “Let's find out,” she said, forcing herself to sit up. “Take three healthy bodies with you and make sure that Jack and Harry's team is all right.”
“Got it.”
“Have someone else assess the wounded,” she added. “Start triage immediately.”
“And you?”
Gritting her teeth with a vicious growl, Anna turned her face up to the hot sun. “I'll be fine,” she replied, ignoring the rasp in her voice. “I'm not injured, just exhausted. The others need your help!”
Ben stood up to tower over her with arms folded, light glinting off his visor. “I'm not so sure about that,” he muttered. “I've heard that Keepers who push themselves the way you did can pass out from the strain.”
“Take care of the others!” she snapped. “Go!”
He turned away from her, then hesitated for a moment, one hand flexing into a fist. “Yes, ma'am,” he said at last. “I'm on it.”
Seconds later, Ben was sprinting around the back of the police car, leaving her to deal with her fatigue on her own. Every muscle in her body felt so heavy, and Seth was practically begging her to go to sleep. Not yet, though. “You too?”
She looked up to find Harry coming around the vans in the middle of the road with Jack's arm around his shoulder. Her best friend was barely able to stay on his feet, and he clung to Harry like a drowning man to a life-preserver.
Jack's head was hanging, and he groaned as they approached. “So, did I really see what I think I saw?” he asked in a strained voice. “Did you really take out a battle drone with a Death Sphere?”
Anna smiled, looking down at herself. The sweat on her brow made her skin itch. “Yeah, I did,” she muttered. “I John McClaned that shit.”
“Nice reference!”
“Thank you.”
Harry's face twisted as he dragged Jack the last few steps. “How 'bout I just set you down here?” With a grunt, he slowly lowered Jack to the ground. “We have wounded on our side. Someone needs to call in the med teams.”
“Ben's on it,” Anna murmured.
“Good. I'll help him.”
Harry left them a moment later, and she was suddenly aware of just how relieved she was to know that Jack was all right. Oh, she was happy to learn that Harry was well and that Ben had survived unscathed – and her heart broke for the poor people who didn't make it – but there was something…
Best not to think about it, a small voice whispered. So she put the thought out of her mind and scooched closer to Jack. He seemed to sense her need and gently patted her on the back. “It's gonna be all right,” he whispered. “Everything's gonna be all right.”
When they reached the first floor with Aamani still clinging to him, Raynar paused for a moment to catch his breath. The woman he carried seemed to sag against him, and he had to struggle to ignore his own pain.
Raynar closed his eyes, tilting his head back. “Just a little further,” he whispered as much for his own ears as for his companion. “We're almost there now, Aamani. Just a bit further, and we can rest.”
She nodded.
The window above the sink was still open, but it was clear that there was no way she was going through that. This close, he could sense Aamani's pain. It seemed to echo off his own.
Raynar felt his lips peel back from clenched teeth, his head drooping with fatigue. “Come on,” he growled, spinning her around. “We're going to have to go out the front way. I don't know what's out there, but…”
“We can't stay in a burning house,” she whispered.
“Yeah.”
An open doorway in the kitchen's cream-coloured wall led to a narrow hallway that stretched on to the front door. There was no way to see what was happening outside, but he sensed less hostility than he had a few minutes ago.
So, with Aamani's arm draped around his shoulders, and her head tucked under his chin, Raynar dragged her toward the front door. Each step seemed to take hours, though in reality, it had only been a few seconds.
He pushed the door open.
The well-manicured lawn was still in pristine condition – somehow – and beyond that, a battle drone was lying flat on its back in the middle of the street. Off to his right, the three vans made a convenient roadblock that made it difficult to see Anna's barricade. He was just glad that he could sense her presence.
To his left, perhaps thirty feet away, a second battle drone stood deathly still. Most of what remained of its body had been scorched black. How had the thing lost one of its arms? Who could get close enough to do that?
In the distance beyond the scorched drone, a wall of police cars blocked his view of men and women in black uniforms tending to their wounded. He could catch glimpses of them through the windows, but it was his telepathy that truly let him sense them.
“Help!” Raynar called in a strained voice.
He began dragging Aamani toward the nearest barricade – the one that Harry and Jack had been defending – but the people there seemed not to hear him. “We need help!” His voice was so hoarse from the smoke he could barely make out his own words.
Aamani began sputtering and coughing, doubling over in pain. She pressed a fist to her mouth, convulsing with every ragged breath. “Help,” she whispered. Was her plea for him or the officers?
Raynar eased her to the ground.
“Just wait here.”
He broke into a sprint for the line of police cars, huffing and puffing and ignoring the sting in his belly. “Please!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. “Aamani needs help! She needs…”
One of the black-clad officers spun to look at him through the visor of a helmet. “Kid!” he exclaimed. “You okay?”
Raynar stumbled to a stop, pointing into the distance behind him. “Aamani needs medical attention,” he gasped. “Please…”
“Mitchell! Gordon!” the other man yelled, gesturing to two of his officers. “Take care of Director Patel.”
It was over. Suddenly, Raynar felt as though a heavy weight had been lifted from his chest. He had done his part; no, he wasn't an indomitable warrior like Jena or Anna, but he had saved a life. He had braved the flames and survived. Maybe he had something to add to this tear after all-
Raynar felt it before he saw it.
For a telepath, the mind was quick, but the body could still be slow and sluggish, especially when he was burdened by fatigue. All his practice these last few weeks must have honed his skills. Not long ago, he would have been unable to detect such a subtle shift in the emotional current.
A trembling ziarogat stood in the shattered window of a laundromat, keeping all its weight on one leg and leaning its shoulder against the window-frame. The creature lifted one shaking arm to point its gauntlet at him.
“Everyone, get down!” Raynar shouted.
The cops reacted with agonizing slowness.
Raynar tried to throw himself to the ground, but as he tumbled over sideways, something ripped through his chest. It was a strange sensation. Shouldn't there be pain? His shoulder hit the asphalt, and he bounced.
He pressed a trembling hand to his chest, and when he pulled it away, his palm was covered in blood. So this is how it happens…On some level, it was a relief, knowing that the struggle was finally ove
r.
“Raynar!”
The voice that called his name was distant, seeming to bounce off the walls of some very large cave. Or maybe he just wasn't hearing very well. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he was not sad. No, not sad.
A very blurry Harry Carlson came running toward him, sprinting as if the hounds of the underworld were on his trail. “Stay with me!” the man shouted. “Stay with me! You're not done yet, kid!”
“Take that thing down!” one of the cops shouted.
“Stay with me!” Harry was leaning over him. “Stay with me.”
Raynar stared up at the sky with an open mouth, breath rasping in his throat. He felt a cold sweat drenching him. “Tell her…” Gods be good, it was so hard to talk. “Tell her it was the best moment of my life.”
Harry was protesting, insisting that he wouldn't have to tell her anything. It was a lie; Raynar knew that, but he loved the other man for saying it just the same. If only he could find the words to tell Harry that there was no need to worry. Everything was going to be all right. He knew that, somehow.
This body was so heavy, such a weight. It bore the scars of years of pain and abuse, so much needless cruelty. In truth, Raynar had never been all that attached to it. What a relief it would be to rid himself of all that pain.
He let go.
Chapter 19
“Not even one!”
His fist collided with the concrete wall hard enough to leave a few small cracks in its surface. The impact made his knuckles bleed, but he didn't care. The pain was nothing, and he was already starting to heal.
He spun around.
Isara stood before him on the warehouse floor, her face hidden beneath that large gray hood, her body wrapped in the folds of her cloak. She never allowed the underlings to see her face, a healthy philosophy. “Must I repeat myself?” she asked. Her insistence on showing such disrespect was not a healthy philosophy. “Lenai and her team managed to hold off the attack.”
Grinding his teeth so hard it hurt, Slade winced. His face was on fire despite his efforts to control his emotions. “Lenai lives!” he bellowed. “Hunter lives! The decrepit old police officer who insists on clinging to some semblance of relevance by following them lives!”
Isara moved forward without looking up at him. “The telepath boy they rescued from Ganymede,” she said. “He died attempting to save Aamani Patel. Nearly two dozen police officers died as well.”
“And the human garbage at the so-called hospital?”
Throwing apart the folds of her cloak to expose a slim black dress with thin straps underneath, Isara strode toward him. “Your forces never made it to the school,” she said. “Lenai was able to goad them into a trap.”
The heat in his face intensified, and Slade realized that he must have been as red as a sunset. “They were supposed to suffer!” He took a few shaky steps forward. “Defiance must never go unpunished!”
Where was his control? He couldn't remember the last time something had cracked his serenity the way Anna Lenai's stubborn refusal to die just had. The rage was a tempest in his belly. He wanted to strangle something.
Just a few short weeks ago, he had been bored with the notion of ruling over these simpletons again, but now that they had defied him…No, the Inzari had set him above the people of this world. It was the way of things, the grand cosmic order that determined the course of every life. A place of everyone, and everyone in their place.
No one defied the will of the Inzari.
Of course, he realized that part of his anger stemmed from the fact that Jack Hunter had challenged him face to face. A wise ruler never acted directly unless he was left with no other choice. He preferred to let proxies do his killing for him, but Hunter had slipped right into the heart of his operation and challenged him directly.
Dealing with the boy had been easy enough, but that was not what riled him. Jack had refused to back down. Even upon acknowledging his defeat, the boy had remained defiant to the bitter end.
No one defied Grecken Slade!
What would it take for the miserable people of this world to learn their place?
He was pulled out of his reverie when the windows on the upper level shattered to allow Keepers to slip through. Nearly two dozen men and women landed at various spots on the catwalk. Perhaps that should have frightened him.
It didn't.
The skylight above the main floor of the warehouse shattered as well, causing thin shards of glass to drop to the floor like raindrops. A human body followed seconds later, falling with unnatural slowness.
Dremin Koss landed in the middle of the room with a pistol clutched in both hands. A tall and slender man in denim pants and a black jacket, he rose to stand tall with all the pride a Keeper could manage.
His face had the youthful appearance common to every Justice Keeper – with pale, hollow cheeks – but his hair was bone white and his eyebrows as well. The result of hair dye, of course. Perhaps the man wanted to look his age. He was fifty-three. “Slade,” he said, gesturing with that pistol.
Tossing his head back, Slade grinned and let out a peal of laughter. “You think that toy is going to frighten me, Dremin?” he asked. “I have wielded the powers of a Justice Keeper longer than you can imagine.”
Koss narrowed his eyes, his face flushed with rage. “They should never have been given to you,” he said, stepping forward. “Look around you, Grecken. There are twenty of us and two of you.”
Isara whirled around to stand beside Slade, hands upraised with fingers curled like grasping talons. Clearly, she was ready to craft a Bending at any moment. It would not do for anyone to see her face.
Or hear her voice.
“You think highly of your chances,” Slade hissed.
The other man shook his head, slowly moving forward as if to pin Slade against the wall. “I have five teams roaming the streets of this city,” he said. “They've destroyed your drones and your cybernetic abominations.
“We've been watching this warehouse for several days, Grecken. You've made one of the most common mistakes in military history; you've stretched yourself too thin, and now you have nothing left to defend yourself.
“I need nothing else.”
“Enough of this!” Koss growled. “On your knees!”
Baring his teeth in a vicious snarl, Slade squinted at the other man. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “No, you will kneel to me!”
Koss lifted his pistol for a clean head-shot, moving forward with the practiced walk of a law-enforcement professional. His intentions were clear. Up on the catwalk, Keepers sprang into action, some leaping over the railing.
Slade raised a hand, twisting the fabric of reality with a Bending that blurred his opponent into a smear of colour. Bullets appeared before him, slowed and curved off to his right, slamming into the wall.
Isara had a bending of her own.
As he backed up toward the wall beneath the catwalk, Slade felt a surge of rage. His skin was tingling. Twice now, in a matter of days, he'd been forced to defend himself, to tax his own symbiont.
Koss was still shooting.
Slade approached a door in the wall.
He used his shoulder to throw it open and then quickly ducked inside, dropping his Bending once he was no longer in the field of fire. Isara followed him through with hands raised to shield herself, the air before her rippling.
Slade winced and let his head hang. “Quickly,” he said, gesturing to her. “Get that door shut, and let's be on our way.”
Isara did as she was bidden, kicking the metal door so that it slammed shut and cut off their pursuers. She engaged the lock on the knob. That would buy them a few seconds at least! “We should have anticipated this.”
“We did,” Slade assured her.
This small room had been an office of some type before the warehouse had been abandoned. Now, it was devoid of furniture or distinguishing features of any kind except for a puddle of flesh that he had left in the middle of the floor.
<
br /> Slade backed up until he was standing right next to the pool of skin, facing the door with his fists clenched. “This isn't over,” he hissed in a breathy whisper. “No, this is only the beginning.”
Isara joined him.
Behind him, the puddle rose to form a triangle of veiny skin, standing over seven feet tall with its peak nearly brushing the ceiling. There was a soft humming sound that was drowned out by a harsh pounding.
The door swung open to reveal Dremin Koss standing there with his pistol drawn, a look of shock on his face. He froze for a moment, as if unsure of what he saw, and by the time he thought to act, it was too late.
A bubble surrounded Slade and Isara, making it seem as if their pursuers were all standing under water. A very blurry Dremin Koss lowered his weapon, knowing that it would do no good to shoot at this point.
They were yanked forward into darkness.
When he pushed open the door to the small bedroom Anna had been using, Jack found sunlight streaming in through the small rectangular window, leaving a patch of brightness on the mattress.
Anna stood at the window with her back turned, peering out at a quiet Brooklyn street. “Come to cheer me up?” she asked. “Maybe you're planning to remind me that Raynar's death wasn't my fault.”
Grinning like a fool, Jack let his head hang. He scraped a knuckle across his brow. “Am I that predictable?” he asked. “Because, you know, I really pride myself on being frustratingly chaotic.”
Anna spun around.
She looked up as he approached, her blue eyes glistening. “I'm not so sure you're right this time,” she said, her eyebrows rising. “I knew that Slade would find a way to throw us off balance, and I let the kid come along.”
Jack scrunched up his face. “I don't accept that,” he said, shaking his head. “Anna, you can't be expected to foresee every possible outcome. Raynar proved himself to be an asset in prior engagements.”
