“I backtracked through the hack and found the codes and pushed an update through to re-activate the collar, so nobody else got hurt. All three failed.”
“What failed?” Dad said as he came into the kitchen. Mom caught him up as he grabbed a cup of coffee, taking a minute to top hers off. “Interesting. Do you think when you deactivated the collars, it could have shut off the identity protocol as a byproduct?”
“No, I ran a test to make sure they were responding and returning the correct information. After the update failed, I hit the Protectorate server housing the personal information and their collar codes for all the Gifted. Two of the people I didn’t know, but Mimi was the third, and I can’t find her. I don’t know why. Her tracking chip should still be active.” Tears raced over his cheeks. Mom hugged him tight, murmuring in his ear. Like I said, she’s got powers all her own.
Dad pondered his coffee cup. “There has to be an explanation for it. If they ran, would you be able to get the signal?”
Mom let go of Marcel after checking to make sure he was okay.
He thought for a moment. “I don’t know. I would think so, but the transponder would switch. The Protectorate would know if they went outside the zone of control. They don’t monitor inside since they don’t want alarms every time a Gifted goes from Redemption to Granite Falls.” He stroked his chin, thinking over things. “They could be on the move but not outside the zone yet. Let me go ping the collars from all of the transponders. I’ll know once the test is complete.” He picked up his soda and almost ran out of the kitchen.
Dad took a long pull from his cup. “Testing should keep him busy for a bit, but I think he’s right that it’s a problem.”
“I know we could have a problem if another person explodes or something along those lines, but if their powers aren’t strong or obvious, why would it be an issue?” I asked. If Mimi could turn her hair orange now, who would notice? Well other than Abby, who would love to be able to switch hair color at will.
Mom sat down next to Dad with her coffee cup in hand. “We would have heard if some Gifted had started throwing their power around, wouldn’t we?”
“Dad, what if they have a Gift like Tracy Stevens? She didn’t get larger or have anything that would out her as a Gifted. If they could remove the collar and leave, we’d never find them.”
The furrows on Dad’s forehead deepened as he contemplated my question. “Tommy, I think Marcel’s right, and someone has them. The question is who. We know Jon recruited Turk from Granite Falls; has he taken more kids to build a team? Has Reaper returned to collect new bodies for his army? All the unknowns are the problem.”
“We could go and find them before anyone else does,” Abby said, cracking her knuckles for emphasis. “The three of us can wipe the floor with anything they can throw against us.”
“I’d rather avoid another fight like Atlanta. The less noise we make, the better.” As he spoke, I noticed how exhausted Dad was. After all this time, he had to be tired of being Cyclone Ranger. I bet he would like to be a nothing more than a husband and father. No more missions, no more fights, just peace and quiet. He’d more than earned it, but I doubted he could stop any more than he could give up his Gift.
The wet, ragged cough preceded Blaze’s arrival. He stumbled into the kitchen, hair undone and his skin slicked with sweat. He lurched over and dropped into the chair two down from me.
“Eugene, you don’t look so well,” Mom said, moving over to check on him. “You’re burning up. We need to get you to a doctor.”
He waved her off. “I’m fine. I need some antibiotics and some extra sleep. I’ve been pushing too hard, but you can train without me now.”
Marcel stood at the head of the table. I hadn’t noticed him come in with all of Blaze’s coughing. “Is Blaze okay?”
Blaze answered with a hacking cough. He wiped his mouth, and this time I saw blood, and from the concern etched on her face, so did Mom.
“Eugene, enough. What is going on?” Her voice carried the same iron tone I’d heard her use to dress down an uncooperative witness.
He sighed. “I knew you’d figure it out, but I thought it’d be Marcel hacking my doctor’s office before I had to tell you.” He took a deep breath, suppressing another cough. “I have lung cancer. It’s metastasized to my other organs.”
“What?” I couldn’t believe it. I knew he was sick, but nothing like this. The looks of horror around the table reflected mine.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Mom asked, her hand over her mouth, tears running down her face.
“Susan, I promised Ranger I’d take care of you and Tommy. I’m already dead, but you needed training, and I only had a small amount of time. I needed to make sure you could protect each other. I’ve completed my task.”
“There has to be something we can do,” Abby said. “We need to take you to the hospital.”
Blaze shook his head. “The doctors told me it’s too late. I did what I set out to do.”
My brain seized on an idea. “We can contact the council. They could cure him.”
“No. We don’t have a way to contact them,” Dad replied.
“I do.” All heads turned toward me. Abby smiled. I pushed back the chair and ran for my room. I jumped down the stairs two at a time, running as if my life depended on it. I threw the door to my room open, tore open my backpack, and grabbed the box containing the bottle Makeda had given me. She said life or death, and this certainly counted. I retraced my steps to the kitchen, hope blossoming as I thought about Makeda healing Blaze. The cancer would shrink and disappear, leaving my friend and mentor healthy.
Abby must have explained while I was gone. The barrage of questions didn’t hit me as I entered the kitchen. “Makeda told me she would come to me in a life and death emergency.” I opened the box and extracted the purple bottle. The wisps of smoke swirled inside, just as they had when she gave it to me.
“How does it work?” Mom asked in a whisper.
“I smash the bottle, and Makeda should come to help. She promised she would.” I took the bottle and set it on the floor. I glanced around the room; everyone seemed to be holding their breath, leaning in to see what would happen. I lifted my foot and brought it down on the bottle. I heard a loud crack from under my shoe.
I stepped back from the shattered bottle. Mist swirled up from the remnants of the vessel. The tendrils twisted and spiraled, rising from the floor as if dancing to unheard rave music. They jerked and spun, growing thicker as if the motion enhanced the effect. Purple suffused the mist as a shape began to form. A moment later, Makeda the Arcanist stood before us.
“Thomas, I’d hoped to see you again, but this is much sooner than I would have thought.” She surveyed the room, nodding to Dad who saluted her in return. “What can I assist you with?”
I indicated to where Blaze sat. “My friend, Bl—, err, Eugene, is dying from cancer. The doctors say it can’t be cured. Can you help him, please?”
“I make no promises. As I told you, magic is limited in what it can do, but I will do all I can.” Makeda turned to Blaze. “Hello, Eugene. You looked much better the last time we met.”
“What? You know each other?” I’d had too many shocks over the past couple of days. I hadn’t meant for it to come out so harsh.
Makeda gave me a stern glare and turned me into a frog.
24
So she didn’t actually turn me into a frog, but the look she gave me made me wish she had. “Um, sorry, Lady Makeda. You just startled me.”
A smile creased her ageless face. “I will need to lay Eugene down so I can examine him. Is there someplace close by?”
Mom took over. “Lady Makeda, I’m Susan Ward, Tommy’s mother. If you’ll follow me, please. Michael, bring Eugene to the living room.”
Dad swept a protesting Blaze into his arms like a groom does his bride in one of those cringe-worthy movies. He strode with purpose into the living room. He placed him on the couch, gentle as if he were one of
Marcel’s tablets. Mom adjusted the pillow under his head. The rest of us stood at the entry watching, wondering what would happen.
“Eugene, be at peace. This will not hurt, but it may feel strange.”
Blaze indicated for her to start. His face had little color and none of his usual good-natured humor. Coughs racked his frame. He appeared to have dwindled to nothing. Blaze had never been a large man, but he could have been a child, he seemed so small on the couch.
Mom stepped next to me. “Lady Makeda is the person you told me about? She healed your wounds?”
“Yeah, she did. I like and trust her.” I hadn’t taken my eyes off where Makeda stood, hands outstretched over Blaze. Her hands glowed with golden energy as they moved above Blaze’s body. As they passed over his chest and abdomen, the gold flared an angry red that spiked in all directions, mimicking an angry porcupine. With an effort, she pushed her hands down to his feet. The glow subsided, leaving spots dancing in front of my eyes. She reached out and touched a finger to Blaze’s forehead. “Sleep, my friend. Be at peace.”
Blaze’s body went limp. The coughing stopped, but his breathing was still labored. Makeda joined the group of us where we stood anxiously waiting for news. From the look on her face, I didn’t think it would be good news.
“Eugene is very sick. The disease has ravaged his organs, and he will not last more than a few weeks at best.” Lines that hadn’t been there before now etched her face. “I can try to heal him, but he is weakened, and the strain could kill him.”
Mom almost vibrated with the need to pace, something she did when she needed to think. “We can’t make this decision for him.”
“Blaze is a fighter. He’d want to fight not just give up,” Abby said, her tone hard with conviction. “He’d skin one of us for quitting in a fight.”
Makeda spread her hands apart in front of her. “Eugene is a warrior spirit, but he’s fighting me in this. I know not why, but he resists.”
“Lady Makeda, why would he resist? I’m sure he wants to live.” Marcel rubbed at his chin, thinking his way through things. “He did say he had completed his purpose in training us. Could that be it?”
“I can’t tell what lives in his heart of hearts.” Makeda sounded as tired as she looked. “I need a decision before progressing.”
“Can you ask Blaze?” I asked, not knowing what else to do. “It really should be his decision.”
“Tommy is right. I don’t think any of us should answer for him if he can answer for himself,” Dad said, catching each person in the group in the eye. “We will abide by his decision though.”
“I can make it so one person can enter his dreams and gain the answer. It should be the person closest to him, or he may reject them. I can only do this once. I will await who you choose.” She returned to the couch, knelt beside Blaze, and gently held his hand.
Dad pulled us together. “We need to decide quickly. I know from the mages that magic takes a toll.”
“I’ll go,” Mom said into the quiet. “I’ve known Eugene for years, and I’ll not risk any of you.”
A cold chill ran up my spine. Makeda hadn’t mentioned any risk. Did Mom know something we didn’t? “She said the person closest to him should go. I spent a lot of time with Blaze working at the Lair and so did Marcel.”
“I’d go, but I’m not sure how close he feels to me since I can’t master any of the stuff he teaches,” Marcel said hesitantly. “Abby is his best student, but Tommy spent a lot of time with him.”
Mom opened her mouth to say something, but Dad touched her shoulder. “I’m not close with Blaze. Abby, any feelings on the subject?”
“I think Tommy is closer to him,” she said reluctantly. I could see she wanted to go warring with Blaze’s health. “They’ve been together the most.”
“Mom, I’ll be fine. Makeda didn’t say anything about risks.” I held up my hand to stop her protests. “We have to know.”
She pulled me into a fierce hug and whispered “I love you” in my ear. I told her I loved her too and went to Makeda. I knelt next to her, noticing how shallow Blaze’s breathing had gotten. “Is he going to make it through this?”
She nodded slowly. “Part of what I did reduced his metabolism, sort of a semi-coma to give his body a rest.” Reaching over, she took my hand in hers. “Place your hand on his forehead. You will feel a force behind your eyes; don’t fight it. Speak to Eugene, ask him if he wishes to be healed. When you are done, close your eyes and think of returning to us.”
“Okay,” I said, wishing my voice sounded more certain like Dad’s always did in a crisis. I set my hand on Blaze’s smooth brow. Ever since he’d come to Castle, he’d been tense; now we knew why. I closed my eyes and listened to the soft words roll around me and through me. The force behind my eyes felt more like a kick in the ass by a three-hundred-pound horse.
Unlike the trips through the doorbell vortex, I slid through an empty space, landing in a deserted warehouse, the smell of dust and oil mixing in the air. If I’d had a nose, I would have sneezed, but I found myself translucent. I’d never been a ghost before.
I ran toward the voices I heard ahead of me. A long salt-n-pepper ponytail stood out against a black and gray combat suit. I moved to stand next to Blaze, though he didn’t see me. He must be dreaming. “Blaze, I need to talk to you.” No response.
Blaze pulled a pistol from its holster, crouching into the stance he’d spent hours teaching us. I noticed his finger wasn’t on the trigger; nice to see he practiced the trigger discipline he pounded into our heads. He slid around a stack of boxes, coming into view of three semis parked in the loading dock.
Someone closed on Blaze, setting us moving in unison as a tall man floated down next to us. “Dammit, Jack. What are you doing?” Blaze asked, annoyance thick in his voice. He spoke into his comm-link “The Guardians are on site. Be advised.”
Jack? My jaw dropped as I realized it was Jack Taylor, my high school teacher who Powell and Brunner murdered. He looked every inch the hero I knew he was, or would be to me, in a custom combat suit of silver and black. His hands stood out against the black legs of the suit, his fingers being stone. Taylor had told me that losing his Gift had saved him, and now I understood why.
“Blaze, we are guarding the trucks. UN supplies to be shipped out tomorrow.” He glanced over his shoulder as another man slithered up alongside us. He carried a sniper rifle slung over his shoulder. The person behind him caught and held my attention. Bright orange hair announced Pepper Spray as she joined the group. Her suit didn’t fit well and had a hole in one knee. The irises of her eyes were jet black and not natural. The picture Blaze had shown me didn’t do her justice. She must be around thirty, though Blaze must be a lot older than she was.
I tried again to get Blaze’s attention, but his reality was this dream, and nothing I did changed that. I’d have to wait out the sequence and try again. I moved back to watch as the rest of this play out. Something gnawed at the back of my brain, but I couldn’t figure out what.
A small woman, with short, dark hair ran from the trucks to where the assembled group stood. “Jackhammer, we’ve got problems. Ruby Lash and the Death Angels are moving in fast. We’re outnumbered and outgunned.” As if to emphasize her point, the front wall exploded, throwing chunks of concrete and glass through the warehouse like shrapnel.
“Thanks, Siren,” Jackhammer said into the comm-link “Guardians, move out.” The man with the sniper rifle called his team to action at the same time. I saw Alyx and Gladiator charge into battle as the Death Angels stormed the loading dock through the dust and debris. They brandished all sorts of tech weaponry, though they could have passed for extras in a biker slasher film. The smallest was over seven feet tall and a solid three hundred pounds of muscle. I’d never seen anything like them before.
The room was in chaos. Blaze fired shots at an Angel armed with a shotgun that sported a whirling blade for up-close fighting. The boom of the shotgun added to the commotion but missed
Blaze by a mile. Like a surgeon, Blaze shot out pieces of his foe’s gear, until the giant tumbled to its back, unable to get up again.
Gladiator held off two Angels with his sword as Alyx sent blue fire against another who tried to flank them. Jackhammer screamed by, slamming his hands into the behemoths, blood spraying from wounds as he smashed them. The woman who had warned them screamed a high-pitched wail, causing the Angels in her wake to collapse, holding their ears as they bellowed in pain.
The back of the closest truck erupted, throwing the doors out into the loading dock, one of which downed Siren as it clipped her leg. Her scream shattered the ceiling above her, launching metal in all directions. Out of the smoke stepped a tall, dark-skinned woman dressed all in red, swinging a glowing whip. Unless I missed my guess, she would be the Ruby Lash that Siren had warned Jackhammer about. She joined the fray, whip snapping out, pushing Gladiator back.
As I saw who stood inside the trailer, I started to run, summoning my power as I went. Grim Reaper strutted to the opening in the ruined trailer, jumping down to stand over the fallen Siren. “I claim Siren in the name of the Underworld!” The scythe pulled back; the sickly green glow intensified as if it knew it was about to taste blood. As the blade fell, an orange blur stepped between Reaper and his victim. She slashed four furrows into his chest as her hand struck out.
I stopped running, realizing the Grim Reaper wasn’t here, but my anger had made me stupid. A possibly fatal flaw in a fight. Ahead of me, Blaze finished off the Angel in front of him with a well-placed head shot. He quickly double tapped, then noticed Pepper Spray facing off against a Gifted foe. “Pepper Spray is in trouble. Collapse on her position.”
I heard Alyx scream from across the room, blue energy racing to encircle Pepper Spray as he had done for me against the hounds in the basement. I glanced over in time to see Ruby Lash’s whip wrapped around the lower portion of Alyx’s legs while he was distracted. She pulled hard, and the whip cut through his legs, toppling the mage.
Unbreakable Storm Page 18
