Cherry Blossom Girls 8

by Harmon Cooper

  “Did you guys let her run around?” I asked Dorian.

  “There are too many people and vehicles out there to let her run around. So she has been running back and forth in the hallway between our rooms instead.”

  “Great,” I said as I put on the leather necklace with a pillar-shaped rock attached to the other end. It was supposed to be an energy stone of sorts, but I didn’t feel anything once it settled on my chest.

  “Are you sure this thing works?” I asked Grace, showing her the stone.

  “The man said it would give me good luck, and he also tried to charge me double the price he would normally charge someone for it. So I got it for free.”

  “Of course you did.”

  “We need to get to the hotel,” Veronique said, cutting short our banter.

  “We are just getting information for now,” I reminded them as we stepped out of the room and into the main living area, where we found Stella and Chloe watching a static-ridden television, Ingrid looking through some of the books that were in the room.

  They were also dressed like a bunch of damn hippies, like people I would find at a farmers’ market in Vermont.

  “Stop staring,” Stella said, focused on the television.

  “I like your pants,” I told her. Stella rolled her eyes.

  Of all of our pants, hers looked the most like something MC Hammer would wear. Rather than say anything else she simply turned her attention back to the TV.

  As I approached the door, I looked over my shoulder at her to catch Stella looking back in my direction. Our eyes locked and she glanced away.

  I will never understand that one, I thought as we left our hostel, making our way across the street. The four of us blended in now with our outfits, aside from Veronique, who still looked like a stone-cold hard ass even if she was wearing yoga clothing.

  “So here’s our story,” I told the group as we neared the hotel. “I am your yoga teacher, and you are our guide,” I told Grace. “To make the backstory a tiny bit better, Veronique, you and I have been secretly banging.”

  “Are you expecting someone to ask us about that?”

  “You never know what to expect, it’s just a backstory. I learned this from an EBAYmazon series called Sneaky Pete. Also, we need cool yoga names. I will be Edward Star. Dorian, you are Petal Bloom, and Veronique, you are…” I looked at her curiously for a moment as I let my brain do what it did best, crank out some bullshit. “Flower Moon. Yeah, Flower Moon.”

  “And I’m Anil,” Grace said.

  “Careful with that name,” I told her.

  “It’s a Nepali name, and I know what I’m doing,” she said with a wink.

  “Okay, um, so Anil, Edward King, Petal Bloom and Flower Moon.” I paused as a rickshaw zipped in front of me, the guy using a discarded plastic bottle as a horn, which somehow worked. It was only a flash, and he was gone.

  We approached the entrance to the hotel, which had two snow lion statues in front of it. There were white scarves draped around the snow lions’ necks, and from what I could tell they were definitely new, especially with how dirty the streets were.

  A peculiar smell met my nose and I looked to my right to see that someone was burning a pile of trash.

  My mouth started dropping, but then I remembered to stay focused, to pretend like I’d been here for a while as a yoga instructor, that I’d seen things like this. Of course, I had no idea why someone would be burning a pile of trash, but if the landfills were full, what else was one supposed to do with the stuff?

  Grace took over from there, the concierge simply opening the door for us and bowing as we walked in.

  True, she could have handled our little reconnaissance mission on her own, but I was trying to do what Veronique had been bugging me to do all along, to work in numbers, which seemed to be her code for saying she just wanted to be by my side.

  As part of the plan, and simply because she looked out of place in her yoga clothing, I took the metal vampire’s hand and squeezed it, the channels opening.

  I replaced Grace’s psychic power with Veronique’s metal manipulation ability, figuring that I needed to focus on keeping my transformation anyway. Besides, it was always good to have a little metal wielding power just in case.

  It wasn’t a shabby hotel either.

  Especially compared to the street out front, the Hotel Himalaya almost reminded me of stepping into some of the East Coast money mansions in Newport, Rhode Island. Expansive ceilings, pillars, marble wherever wood wasn’t available, opulence and… Backpackers?

  While the space was grandiose, the clientele was dressed even more casually than we were, which made me totally appreciate the work Grace had already done in making us blend in.

  There was an espresso bar, and seated before it were foreigners pecking away on sleek AppleSoft laptops, others in similar clothing to what we wore, facetiming loved ones.

  Another man, who sat with his back to me, edited pictures of snow-capped mountains, possibly Mount Everest. I knew that was one reason foreigners came to Nepal, well, maybe one of three reasons, and seeing it now struck me as odd considering just how depraved the city looked outside of these walls.

  I even turned and looked to the front entrance to make sure I hadn’t stepped into a portal or something, going from a Third World country to a First, if those terms even held meaning any longer.

  But this was reality, my reality, and I didn’t have long to contemplate it as we approached the woman at the front desk.

  “He’s not in right now,” the hotel clerk said, “would you like me to take a message?”

  I glanced right to see Grace’s eyes were white, the psychic shifter not wasting any time getting the information that we needed.

  “And what room will he be staying in?” Dorian asked.

  “He has a permanent room on the top level, suite thirty-three.”

  “Do you mind if we take a look around?” Grace asked.

  The woman nodded, stepping away from the desk and returning with the key card.

  We turned to the elevator, Grace now in the lead. The door slid open and a German couple stepped out with their child, all of them ready to get their Edmund Hillary cosplay on. The Germans merely looked at us and then looked away, their son staring for a second longer, a stern look on his face.

  “They seemed friendly,” Dorian said as the elevator door shut.

  “I think that most Germans just have resting bitch faces,” I explained as we made our way up to the third level. “Russians too. It might be an Eastern Europe, or close to Eastern Europe thing.”

  “You could really tell the difference?” Dorian asked.

  “You mean between an American and a German?”

  She nodded.

  “They dressed differently, and they hold themselves in a different way. But sometimes I can’t, I mean, some of the foreigners I’ve come across looked American to me until they spoke. Of course, when they speak I can tell. But sometimes, yeah, I will say that. White people don’t all look the same.”

  Grace smiled as the elevator door opened. “Is that what you thought she was trying to say?”

  “I have no idea what she was trying to say,” I said as we stepped out onto the third floor and keyed ourselves into room thirty-three.

  We took a quick look around, and I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t hoping to find something crazy or serial killer-ish in the room, like some dead bodies or severed hands or lamps made out of skin.

  But no, this Kenneth guy’s room looked just like any other hotel room, tidy and put together nicely. There weren’t any clothes lying out or anything, nor were there any papers on the table that would give us an idea of what was happening with Damon Lord.

  Which meant we would need to move to Plan B.

  A surprise attack.

  Chapter Twenty-One: Surprise Attack Squared

  So we waited.

  The four of us discussed teleporting back later tonight, but we wanted to get the drop on Kenn
eth, and from what Grace had gleaned from the hotel clerk’s mind, it would be anywhere between one and four hours before he returned.

  “Have we ever done this before?” I asked at some point, fishing in my pocket for my phone to check the time.

  “Waited for someone to come?” Veronique thought about it for a moment. “I can’t remember.”

  “Do you remember that guy in Austin who tried to kidnap us? Butler, something Butler was his name.”

  The three of them nodded.

  “Damn, that was pretty crazy.”

  “It feels like so long ago.” Dorian stood, smoothing her hands over her yoga outfit. “I’m going to tell the others we may be here for a minute.” And without another word, she disappeared in a purple poof of energy, leaving the three of us sitting on a couch in front of Kenneth’s bed.

  “I know something we never talked about,” I started to tell Grace and Veronique.

  “I did get to train with many of them,” Grace said, reading my thoughts.

  “At least let me get the question out first…”

  “I don’t want you to waste your breath.”

  “What was the question?” Veronique asked as she returned from the door.

  “Well, I’m just wondering what else Mother and Angel could possibly throw at us. There was Augustin, the metal lady you killed in the desert.”

  “Victoria.”

  “Who knows where Jules is, and then there was that one teleporter that Dorian killed. I can’t remember what her name was. Also, there was Olivia, remember her?”

  Grace nodded. Rather than describe what she looked like, Grace started to morph into a thicc woman, with her short red hair combed to the side.

  “Well, someone here remembers what she looks like,” I said with a chuckle. “But anyway, my question was, who are the others? Who could we inevitably go up against?”

  Veronique placed her hand on the back of her head for a moment.

  “Well?”

  “She’s thinking,” Grace said.

  “Stay out of my mind, Sabine,” Veronique said sharply.

  “I try not to go there if I don’t have to.”

  “There were a lot of failed experiments, and then there were also some that were executed after various mishaps, or to put it more bluntly, when they were retired. They didn’t actually let us know who was still technically in commission,” Veronique explained. “I believe this was to keep us nervous, to always remind us that we were expendable. But if I were to guess, I would say that Madelyn, Amandine, Blanche and Gabin are still active. Of course, Remy is still alive, with his explosive clones, and there’s also the telepathic boy, Adam.”

  “I remember him. He almost forced Clarence to kill himself.”

  “But those are just the ones that I think may still be active. There were six facilities, and if you recall, something or someone was moved from the island off the coast of California to, well, who knows where.”

  I had to think back for a moment, but I remembered Santa Cruz Island, and Michelle and Ingrid clearing the place while we fought, both of them claiming that it seemed as if someone had left in a hurry.

  “And what were their powers,” I asked Veronique, “the ones you mentioned?”

  “Amandine can control electricity; Gabin has enhanced strength and can turn his body to stone; Blanche morphs into a winged creature that spits acid, and Madelyn can manipulate light and shadows.”

  “Wow, damn. I guess when I get back to my computer I will check Dr. Kim’s app and see if I can find anything more about those ones. If you think they’re still alive, then I would say it’s a safe bet that they will eventually run into us. Angel would have done something to the three of us if he could have.”

  I remembered the aunt-banging test tube manchild speeding off on his motorcycle like some straight to DVD tough guy flick to be sold at the last Blockbuster in Alaska. He had a hostage too, and there was no telling what had become of Arianna Lord over the last several days.

  This gave me an idea.

  “You know, and don’t look at me for the answer of how we could pull this off, but maybe we could pit Lord and Mother’s crew against each other, and then we could pick off whoever was left standing.”

  Dorian reappeared, a pack of cookies in her hand.

  “Hungry?” she asked, handing me the pack.

  “For cookies? I’m always hungry.”

  “What did I miss?” She took a seat on the chair across from us.

  “We were discussing potential enemies that Mother and Angel may have, and how we could get them to fight Damon Lord’s crew. At least with Mother, we may have some known variables in terms of who she could send next.” I repeated the rest of what Veronique had just told me, Dorian confirming Veronique’s assumption with a nod. “So you are aware of these people?”

  “I am, especially Madelyn.”

  “And you think they’re still in commission?”

  “I’m sure of it. When I was hunting the three of you, they were off doing something in the Middle East.”

  “Really,” I said, my attention going from ripping open the package of cookies to Dorian.

  “That’s right. Otherwise they would have probably been there with me. And if they had, things would have turned out a lot differently.”

  “I can only imagine,” I finally told her.

  Veronique tapped her finger against the side table. “But back to what Gideon said: how can we do it? How could we make them fight each other, essentially making our battle easier?”

  “If I had the answer to that question, we wouldn’t be hanging out in some random dude’s hotel in Nepal,” I said. “Actually, we may still be hanging out in some random dude’s hotel in Nepal, but we would be doing so with a plan.”

  Grace smiled at me, Veronique frowned, and Dorian laughed.

  “What?” I asked as I ate one of the cookies. It tasted like a shortbread cookie, but a little staler. “Just let me think about it for a bit. I’m sure I’ll come up with something.”

  The door opened and Dorian immediately teleported over to it, grabbing the man named Kenneth Thompson, and reappearing in front of us as the door shut.

  And that was all it took.

  His arms and legs turned to thick goo almost immediately, swiping Dorian aside, doing the same to Veronique, the metal vampire hitting the window and flying out onto the balcony.

  The man spun before Grace could do anything to his mind, his arms elongating, sludge-like as he blasted both Grace and me to opposite sides of the room.

  I was winded, my mind jumpy and kicking into overdrive as I tried to figure out what the hell had just happened. There was no way we could have known that he was superpowered, and now that he’d revealed his ability, our only choice was sudden action.

  Kenneth lunged for Dorian, grabbing her with his long sludgy arms and holding her up against the wall, punching her repeatedly in the face.

  A metal chunk of railing came sailing through the wall, shattering the glass and cutting through his arms.

  Veronique was just running back into the room when Kenneth cast his hand along the floor as if he were throwing a bowling ball, a line of black sludge zipping along the carpet, lifting into an uppercut just beneath Veronique’s chin.

  I tried for an attack as well, using Veronique’s ability to pummel him with light fixtures.

  It was about as effective as pummeling anyone with light fixtures would be, which was to say it was entirely ineffective.

  And for my efforts I got a solid punch to the gut, a slippery hand coming around my neck and slamming me into the ceiling twice, my glasses falling off as soon as I crashed to the ground.

  Luckily, they were on their strap, and as Dorian attempted to fire a purple burst of energy at Kenneth A.K.A. the goddamn Swamp Thing, I scrambled to get my vision correct, narrowly missing Dorian’s shot, which went wide and burned through the bedding.

  The wood planks beneath Kenneth tore him from his feet, another plank coming fo
rward and smacking him in the head. He used his sludgy arms and legs to shoot himself off the ground, his arm stretching seven times their normal length as he swiped Grace across the face, the psychic shifter tossed into a cartwheel that landed awkwardly.

  “Grace!”

  Anger came over me as I charged the man, slamming into his body, bringing him straight to the ground.

  He used his legs to throw me up into the ceiling, and right back down to the floor. The man rolled out of the way just in time, throwing another sludgy arm at Veronique, who was just making her way back into the room, metal floating in the air all around her as she tracked her target.

  The metal hit the ground; Veronique was out cold.

  Grace stumbled to her feet as Dorian tried for another attack. Kenneth threw his arms at her, and she vanished in a puff of purple energy, reappearing behind them, trying to deliver a direct blow.

  He turned just in time to take the brunt of her attack with his arm, which exploded it into bits and pieces all around the room before quickly reforming into the long, sludgy appendage.

  Kenneth delivered two quick blows to Dorian that left her staggering, and another one that finally tossed her to the ground.

  It was on me.

  Normally, the CBGs could have taken someone out like this, but his ability, and the way he suddenly attacked them had disrupted the natural flow of the battle, taking them off guard.

  And was there a natural flow?

  It didn’t matter.

  This was my chance.

  I burst forward, tackling Kenneth and slamming him into the ground again, this time bringing my fists up, an energy swelling over my knuckles fueled by seeing the women that I cared for injured.

  Kenneth quickly overpowered me, flipping me onto my back and rolling on top of me. His gooey hands came around my neck, starting to turn to liquid, entering my nostrils, my mouth.

  I tried to bite down on his fingers, but it was like biting through running water, absolutely no effect, his slippery appendages moving deeper into my throat, further into my nose.

  I scrambled to grab something; nothing, and just as I was about to pass out, just when I was about my choke on my last breath, my hand landed close enough to my pocket and I remembered something.