“The heart of our problem is we know they’re coming here soon,” grumbled Roland, his eyes on the horde of customers moving in and out of the pizzeria. “Siri’s company has taken so many that they’re running out of options. Far as we know, there’s only a handful left. Nearest one besides her is actually in Italy, and daughter of a senator there, so she should have adequate protection.”
“Assuming they know they’re in danger,” I said, watching as a group of teenagers a year or two older than me demolished a pie outside, leaving only the cardboard box skeleton behind. Their laughter tinkled through the window—carefree laughter, the laughter that didn’t have to worry about tomorrow. That knew nothing of the concerns of the outside world, and didn’t care. “If they don’t, she could get snatched right up.”
“That’s a matter of international affairs, and not one for me to interfere,” Roland replied with a grimace. “Don’t you follow the news, son? International tensions aren’t something to be laughed at. Last thing we want to tell them is some force from our country is actively invading their own and snatching up all their Silver Tongues. And not just that, but a force involved in all layers of our government, in our schooling. See how that would sound?”
“Sounds like we could use their help,” I said. “Maybe the only way to get rid of the cancer is to remove it with an outside scalpel, no matter how bad it looks.”
“If you can find out what is and isn’t cancer, I invite you do so,” said Roland, adjusting the air conditioner a few notches up, the fans whirring at full speed. “And that’s off the record, you understand?”
“Speaking of which,” piped up Lucio in the seat next to me, his feet propped up against the grated barrier. “What the heck do you call them? We just going to keep them as shadow people?”
“I still like cancer,” I said. “Why don’t we just stick with that?”
“We do have a name for them among those we trust,” said Roland with a crack of his knuckles. “Nothing formal, of course. But it’s the Instructors. I considered Vultures: they’re scavengers, is what they are—they prey on that which can’t defend itself, they leach on the decomposing aspects of society, the bits and pieces that have long rotted away. Yet their involvement in the academy, as well as how they pose among everyone else as superior, lent Instructors well.”
“Instructors,” said Lucio, rolling his tongue around the word. “I like that as much as I hate my teachers.”
“As I said, they go for the dregs of society,” continued Roland, with an eye back on Lucio. But before Lucio could offer a comeback, Roland tilted his head and asked another question. “By the way, how in the hell did you make it to the Amazon?”
“Rich uncle,” I said, meeting his eyes in the mirror.
“You don’t look it,” he commented with a glance at our clothes.
“He’s eccentric,” I said, and cracked the door. “Anyways, we’ll be taking over from here, Roland.”
“And we’ll be sending you the bill in the mail. Expect it by next week,” said Lucio as he scooted over to follow me. Across the street, I could see where Arial perched on the roof of a nearby apartment complex, all but her face covered by a “Now Open” sign. Somewhere in a dark alley, Ennia waited—but was on strict instructions to stay hidden. Roland didn’t know about the tiger, and she refused to travel anywhere without it. But for a cat of its size, Lilac kept remarkably well hidden, especially after Ennia dyed her hair ashen grey with a touch and kept her to the streets.
“Lilac’s coming for her senses only,” I had said to Ennia when we departed. “She’s a warning alarm. If she smells, hears, or sees something amiss, you let us know. But under no circumstances can she be seen—I still can’t believe you’re insisting on this.”
“Don’t worry,” responded Ennia, running a hand through the purring tiger’s fur. “She’s well-behaved.”
“And will be shot on sight by a cop if she isn’t,” I had warned, but she was already walking away, leaving me uncertain if the words had been absorbed or disregarded.
Roland spoke again before I shut the door of his car, the words commanding.
“As a reminder, she’s the one flipping pizza dough in the back. I recommend you set a perimeter around her, and remember, this is about prevention. Don’t let her get caught in the first place and make enough of a scene that we have time to show up in full force. Escort her back to her home in secret and don’t let another living soul know. You understand?”
“Explain to me again why we don’t just tell her,” I asked, fingertips in the door jamb.
“Because I don’t want to just save her,” Roland said. “I want to catch the bastards that are after her in the first place.”
“Blood’s on your hands then,” I said, and moved to close the door. But just before it clicked, I heard two sounds in unison that made me leap towards the restaurant.
A tiger’s roar, far out of place in the city.
And a girl’s scream.
Chapter 10
I started sprinting before my thoughts had a chance to catch up, fighting against the crowd that streamed out of the pizzeria glass doors. Sparkling embers covered the fronts of their clothes as they furiously brushed them out, leaving dark holes where they burned through the fabric. With a second look at the congested door, I threw a forcepoint at the giant window facade, the glass shattering as I ripped it outwards from the center. With a swipe of another forcepoint, I drew the fragmented shards away, casting them behind me into the empty street as more people started clamoring out of the fresh hole, ignoring me as I leapt in.
My feet skidded on the tile floor, catching napkins that covered it like confetti and eliminated any friction, sending me skidding into a nearby table. I cursed as my hip bone caught the edge, pivoting me as a shrieking woman sporting a burn on her arm crashed into me, knocking me off my feet so that my chin snapped against the ground, my teeth clicking on impact. For an instant, my vision swam—then a bright red dot came into focus just six inches in front of me, close enough I could smell my eyebrows starting to burn. I blinked, and the dot turned into the end of a log, the edge of it hot coals straight from a fire.
Shaking my head, I clamored to my feet, and with the restaurant almost empty, took in the scene. Fire was everywhere—from the menus to the booths, all in a blast radius around the open door of a dome-shaped ceramic pizza oven. Two figures struggled just beside the oven, one of them a reedy man in all black, a red harness standing out against his clothes. His hand went to his belt, whipping out a thin cord that he slashed over the second person, forming an “X” with a second cord that already crossed her chest. With a snap, he clicked it into his harness and the second figure screamed again, muffled this time—for in the commotion, the pizza dough she had been tossing fell across her face, draping like a hood over her features. Then a third cord clipped around her waist and the man turned, his hawk-like nose searching before settling on the window I had just broken, a pair of tinted goggles strapped to his face making it impossible to read his expression.
“Stop!” I shouted, pulling a dark orb from the pocket above my wrist where I kept them hidden, a fold in space that I created to accommodate spare spheres. Embers flew about it in a fiery whirlpool, casting my face alight, but the man showed no hesitation. Instead, he stretched both his arms towards the window, something white flew out of each the sleeves, and a gust of wind rushed through the restaurant to spray debris into the street. I shielded my face with the orb as fiery pizza crusts pelted my arms, leaving ash streaks in their wake, and the couple soared past me to ride the wind. The man turned a somersault, with the girl still pinned to his harness, then threw his hands into the air.
The same white objects from his sleeves floated upwards in the streets like resurrected ghosts, but now I could see the thin cords that ran back to his harness from them. Another gust of wind struck, more powerful this time, and they billowed outwards, catching the wind as kites. He leapt and the lines snapped taut, carrying him upwa
rds and into the twilight sky. He flicked his wrists and the kites cut left, swooping to carry him to the top of the nearby apartment building.
The one where Arial was still hiding, as she scouted out Amelia from above.
Arial pounced as the reedy man alighted, her hands going straight for the kite lines, knowing that if she cut them off, he would be stranded. She caught one and twisted, tangling it so the kite dropped from the sky, but with a click, the man released it from his harness and another flew from his sleeve. Before she could react, he raised a hand, then summoned a torrent of wind that caught her square in the chest, blasting her of the rooftop and fifty yards beyond. Then he leapt backwards, redirecting his kites to take him to the next rooftop, but failing to see Arial recover in midair from her fall as she swooped along the ground in hot pursuit. I started to run as Lucio pelted up the opposite side of the street, trying to get in range to inflict his memory powers on the fleeing man. Slugger was missing, as was Ennia, and I cast my eyes around to find them before a thought erupted into my mind.
Let me in! Roland’s voice boomed, and I missed a step from the sheer mental pressure he exerted. Near the top of my head, I felt a prying, one that I instinctually wanted to fight, to push away. I slammed my thoughts shut, and heard his voice again, frustrated this time.
I’m trying to help you, you halfwit. Let me in!
I shook my head, then let my thoughts be pried open, fighting the reflex. For an instant, the world flashed with static, then I was connected. Words tumbled over the link—but not in the form of words—rather, in collections of blurred images, in emotions, and symbols that somehow cobbled together to make coherent sentences.
In pursuit! Arial streamed, in something I immediately recognized as her touch. He doesn’t know I’m onto him yet, thinks I died in the fall. Still heading due south.
Just keep eyes on him, replied Roland, his thoughts far more coherent from practice. We’ll have backup on the way. SC, do the same from the ground.
He’s too quick, even with us at full speed, I answered, the thoughts coming much more smoothly than if I had spoken them between breaths, If Arial loses him, then he could hide anywhere. I’ll put together a distraction.
No, came Roland’s voice. Distractions mean innocents killed.
We’ll be careful, I answered, feeling a sharp emotion of displeasure emanate from him, Lucio, see if you can cause some confusion. Ennia, Slugger, are you listening? I have a plan.
Oi, all ears! came Slugger. I’m here with Ennia. She won’t let bossman in her head, probably the only smart one out of all of us.
Agreed there, and fine by me. Arial, get ready to cut the enemy off—we need you to shepherd him, I commanded, then gulped, knowing that Roland would not only hear the words of the next sentence, but see the orange and black stripes that they represented. Slugger, get saddled onto Lilac. We’re going to need more air support.
Chapter 11
The man glided from rooftop to rooftop, his black coat flapping in the wind, serving as a counter drag to the kites that whipped him forwards. In front of him, the form of Amelia struggled against the cords holding her in place, and they dropped dozen feet as she pulled at his lines—but he breathed more wind into the kites and they recovered, staying far away from the ground where they would be susceptible to pursuers. The man was surprised she still struggled—she’d experienced enough G-force in the last minute to make most faint, her wrists and ankles were zip-tied together, and the pizza dough that covered her face surely restricted her breathing.
The pizza dough, of course, had been no mistake. When he’d dropped down the chimney of the pizzeria and into the furnace, blasting the embers outward it out with a gust of wind, he’d lost the gag he had brought among the debris. The dough would serve in its place. Out of all the bindings on the girl, this one was the true necessity. He’d worked with a Silver Tongue before and knew the importance of stifling her words, whether they would affect his ears or bring others to help.
Amelia moved again, and he adjusted his kite lines once more, cursing under his breath. This would all have been so much easier if they let him do it his way—simply stealing her out of her bed at night or swooping down to take her from the streets. But no—instead, they insisted that it should look like an accident, that the pizzeria oven had exploded. They’d given him copies of her molars, made from pictures they had bought off her dentist, as well as a few bones that he’d scattered around to be found after the blaze. Whatever witnesses had seen him take the girl could be chalked up to hysteria and trauma after the authorities found the teeth. Which would be hours, considering that the fire was only just starting, and they’d stashed gasoline in the storage cabinets.
Such a tragic accident.
But there had been other witnesses, ones that he didn’t expect—the strange boy that collected darkness in his palms and the girl on the rooftop that had stolen one of his kites. Perhaps it would be prudent afterwards to remove them and their bodies once he delivered his charge. Only a few eight more blocks to go until then, and he could turn around to complete the job. And in his mind, the only complete job was a clean job. That was likely the reason his name had been passed to his current employers, as difficult as they may be.
His feet caught the edge of the next roof, and he scrambled for a moment, chunks of concrete coming loose from years of acidic rain. Then he was moving once more, the force of his kites helping him run at greater speed, as if he were catching himself with each step instead of propelling himself forwards. His eyes watched the rendezvous interception far ahead, searching for the dark car among the moving stream but knowing that his employers would find him seconds after touch down. A simple drop, then tomorrow the cash would be his, in the mailbox of an abandoned barber shop on the east side of town between the hours of one and two. Enough cash to last him a year, and a year of luxury at that.
He leapt once more—six blocks now, almost there, his breath coming in laborious gasps. He’d sprint this last part, and it would be over with. Another job done. Another night to hide in the shadows.
But just after he took the leap, he saw the girl he had blasted off the roof rising in front of him from an alley below, her face enraged and holding U-shaped bicycle lock in her hands like a club. He swerved, the kites swinging him like a pendulum in their arc across the sky, and he landed on the same roof he had jumped from. He cursed—she was supposed to be dead.
She followed, and he prepared another blast—a stronger one, one aimed not just to cast her into the air but to smash her against the side of the building beyond like a bug against a windshield. Not only would it clear his path, but he’d only have to return for one witness afterwards. Perhaps her showing up had been a boon rather than a distraction.
“Drop the girl!” the Flier shouted, brandishing the lock. “I can fly faster than that contraption of yours. You’re not getting away!”
He answered with silence, knowing she couldn’t see his eyes through his lenses, and allowing the upper edge of his lip to curl into a snarl. Amelia strapped to him struggled again, but he hit her once across the ears, and with a muffled shriek, she turned rigid. Not unconscious, but behaved. His instructions had been clear about that as well—no lasting or visible damage to be done to his charge. But her hair would cover that bruise well enough, he had placed the strike carefully. If necessary, he would place another.
The Flier edged closer as he built his power, feeling the wind surging to answer his call, the kites already straining in anticipation. He couldn’t let her near them again—he only carried two spares, and with one already gone, he’d be praying that a line didn’t snap in his escape. Planting his feet, he aimed and prepared to loose the torrent.
But just as the wind trailed down the edge of his fingertips, he felt his arm turn to lead—no, not his arm, but the coat around it, dragging his hand downwards. The blast intended for the girl ripped along the building roof, performing a power wash effect as all rubble pigeon droppings were removed with
the force of a hurricane, making it the cleanest since the day it had been built. Then he slumped, feeling the rest of his coat dragging him downwards, and he heard a voice speaking from behind him as the weight continued to build.
“Oi, gotcha lad. Now you’ll be stayin right here, and don’t you be doing anything sneaky. I’ve got an eye for that, I do.”
Chapter 12
From my position on the ground, I could sense the stream of images coming from Slugger as he touched the back of the kidnapper’s coat, his power inflating the weight far above any fabric had a right to be. My fingers tingled as I felt the sensation of transferring mass, almost as if someone were pulling a string out from underneath my nail, a tickling. As Lucio and I closed the distance between us, I heard him laughing—and knew he too experienced it, as he tried to brush his fingertips on the side of his pants.
“Now, we’re goin to make this real easy on ya,” Slugger continued as the man let his kites fly. They strained at the end of his cords, but the force was nowhere near enough to lift him in his state into the air. The weight was simply too great, and as the man directed a blast of air at Slugger, I felt him touch his own shirt and pants, making them heavy enough to withstand the blow.
“Oi, cut that out,” he chided, then added another dollop of mass to the coat, enough to make the man fall to one knee. “Keep huffin and puffin and I’ll keep makin ya heavier. Ye won’t be breathing long at this rate, lad. Now, you’ll be handing the lass over here, then we can work out your situation.”
“I’d rather crush her windpipe,” the man seethed as the bundle in front of him squirmed. His eyes flitted upwards, down the street several blocks, then peered out their corner to Slugger.
“And claim no reward? You think I’m dim? I’ve spent enough time on the streets to know better than that,” Slugger said with a poke of more mass. “Way I see it, you’re likely a delivery boy. Maybe they even wanted you to take a fall so they didn’t have to pay you off. But me, I might just let you go when you deliver that package.”
Titan Song (Star Child: Places of Power Book 3) Page 4
