I closed my eyes for a second to try and regain some control. It worked for the moment.
“Ma’am, you okay?” A young man in his twenties asked me.
I gave him my best smile and nodded. “Just a headache.”
“Oh,” he said, backing up. “Got it.” The way his face paled made me want to laugh. He thought I was on my period, I guess. Men. After a few seconds to collect myself I headed over to Krisan’s office… only she wasn’t there when I opened the door.
I put the coffee on her desk, thinking maybe she would be by any moment, and folded myself neatly into her guest chair. Sipping my coffee, I waited… and waited… and waited… I upended my coffee and realized I was out and she still hadn’t shown up. Worry started to trickle up my spine—or maybe it was the sweat trickling down?
After another half hour, I decided to look around. Her desk was just like it was the day before when I came to warn her, except her laptop was missing—which meant she had come back after the attack. I just figured she’d gone home. I should have tried to get in touch with her sooner.
Good thing for me, I knew where she lived.
In daylight, the apartment building she lived in was a lot less intimidating than in the middle of the night, but even more of a dump than I had thought. It also helped that I wasn’t waiting to ambush five deadly mobsters. I walked by the dumpster and resisted the urge to check my handiwork. If I was right, the trash had already gone to the cities landfill anyway.
I jogged up the stairs, glancing behind me every few steps to make sure I wasn’t growing a tail. When I reached her door it was splintered, the jam broken off in ragged pieces. I pressed myself up against the wall slipped the P-30 from the small of my back, clicking the safety off and pulling the hammer back. I glanced around the corner. Her living room was a mess: clothes, books, and shoes were scattered around the room. It looked like someone had ransacked the place. I swept in, gun out in front of me, and scanned the room. Nothing. As silent as a shadow, I moved from room to room, scanning for any sign of enemies.
Something didn’t smell right, literally. Krisan was a reporter, not a mechanic… so why did her living room smell like fuel and motor oil? The rest of the small two-bedroom apartment hadn’t fared much better. Whoever searched the place did a thorough job. Every drawer, every cabinet, every closet, was flung open and the contents were scattered on the floor. The seat cushions of her couch were ripped open, which was stupid. If you had to rip them open to look in, how exactly were they supposed to hide something?
Joseph had taught me all the likely places to look, and from what I could tell, whoever searched this place had the same information. However, Joseph also taught me the places to look after that. I started with the door jamb they had so thoroughly bashed in. Nothing looked out of place. I checked the rest of the jambs in the apartment—nothing. Next, the toilets—nothing. Finally, I searched for air vents. The apartment had central air but only three vents, in the kitchen, living room, and the room she used as an office.
I stood in the hallway looking into her bedroom for a second when I realized the layouts were the same, just reversed. Looking at her office, I could tell where the vent should have been in her room.
Sure enough, under her bed was a sealed vent. I shoved her bed over, dumping the blankets and sheets onto the floor. It wasn’t as if anyone was going to notice at this point. Clearly, the people who took her were looking for something. Maybe she hid it here?
I knelt down and pulled on the vent and stuck my hand into to feel around. A warm plastic bag was my reward. I pulled it out. Wrapped inside was a thumb drive.
“Curiouser and curiouser,” I said aloud. I stuffed it in my pocket, replaced the vent and bed, and made my way to the living room.
The sound of shoes on metal reached my ears as I re-entered the living room. I don’t know how I knew, but three men were coming up the stairs. Then I heard the soft ‘click’ as weapons were taken off safety.
I jumped up and ran back out toward the kitchen. A dash of red caught my eye on my way out. Krisan had another scarf, just like the one I had taken from her the day before. A half dream, half memory formed in my mind. Spice, dressed like me with that red scarf. I grabbed it from the closet, letting the smooth silk run through my fingers.
Okay, they’re not here to ask for directions. I walked over to the two big kitchen windows and dropped the blinds as quietly as I could. It was still early afternoon, but with the cloud cover, there were some shadows in the room. The fuse box was next to the stove. I popped that open and turned all the circuits off. That was all the time I had. I put my back to the dividing wall between the kitchen and the living room. I took a moment and wrapped the scarf around my mouth and nose. I couldn’t help but grin; I felt like I was putting on my costume and for some reason, that gave me power. I knew who they were, they didn’t know who I was.
I closed my eyes, listening for the sound of soft shoes on carpet. My senses were certainly sharper than they had previously been. With my eyes closed, I could hear them breathing, smell their cologne, tell when they squeezed the gun a little extra hard. In my mind, I followed them into the room as they spread out. One pointing at the hallway, the other the kitchen, and the third watching the way they came. It was a good strategy.
Just not today.
I slid down until I was on my haunches, much lower than one would expect gunfire to come from… then I leaned out and fired one shot into the gut of the first man. The bullet hit him square. The noise of the gunfire filled the room along with the flash of light. All of them immediately returned fire. I was already moving and I hit the floor sliding toward the other entrance, firing as they came into view—three rounds into the one approaching the hallway, and one more to finish off the guy I’d already shot.
I rolled away from them and regained my footing, moving deeper into the kitchen. The last one fired several times into the spot I had occupied a few moments before. The bullets smashed into the tile, sending splinters flying in every direction. I ignored the hot, sharp pain that spread across my cheek as I ran back to where I had originally stood.
I didn’t want to kill this one; one way or another, I needed to know where they were keeping Krisan. He stopped firing for a second and dropped his mag to reload. I tossed my gun into the sink with a thud and whipped out my knife. The big pistol he used slammed forward and he walked toward the kitchen. As soon as I saw the barrel of his gun, I acted.
He screamed as my blade struck his finger, and I locked his extended gun arm under my armpit. I used my momentum to slam us both up against the wall and jammed the blade deeper into his trigger finger before sliding it against the bone on the way out. Spinning, I yanked the gun out of his bleeding hand, letting it go as I turned. The firearm flew off behind me to slide along the floor under the sink.
He stepped back, clutching his bleeding hand, his eyes going wide from the shock and from the sight of me. “Who are you?” he gasped as he frantically looked for a way out.
I wanted to reply with something witty—instead, I just leaped forward and planted my foot into his gut as hard as I could. He went down with a cough. I followed up with my knee, smashing his nose. He spun sideways, collapsing against the floor. I grabbed the back of his coat and dragged him out onto the walkway up to the railing. With a grunt, I heaved him over until he was hanging upside down and I was the only thing stopping him from a three-story headfirst plunge onto concrete.
Then he woke up and the screaming started.
“Where is she?” I growled. My voice took on an ethereal tone all on its own. Almost a reverberation—like there were two of me talking, just out of sync.
“Who?”
I let my grip slip just a little. He screamed again. “Okay, okay! We’ve got her in a container at the docks. She goes out with the next shipment to Eastern Europe.”
Shock swept through me. They were going to sell her? As a model, I had some knowledge of human trafficking. There were places we simply didn�
��t accept jobs from. Most were countries where women had few rights. Or none.
Eastern Europe though… I’d known plenty of girls who went there for modeling gigs.
“Which container?” I asked.
“I don’t know the exact one, I just know the dock—nineteen!” he screamed when I let him slip a little more. People thought slavery was long over, but they couldn’t be more wrong. “Are you going to let me go? I answered your questions.”
I looked down at him, disdain filling my soul. Right then was when I decided what kind of person I wanted to be…
I let him go.
His scream was cut off by a sickening crunch as his skull hit the pavement.
Chapter 29
I didn’t go directly to the docks—I had to stop by Joseph’s first. When I left this time, I wore one of his black coats, combat boots, and enough guns to start another world war. I left the thumb drive behind in his secret lair; I didn’t really have time to examine it right then. I couldn’t imagine they would keep a hostage around for long—maybe I should have asked that guy when they were planning on shipping them out before I offed him.
Live and learn. Next time.
Southwest Detroit is in marginally better shape than the rest of the city, if only because of the port authority and the Ambassador Bridge to Canada. The Detroit River separated Canada to the south, from Detroit to the north, which takes a little head wrapping, realizing that Detroit is north of Canada… but only because of an oddity of geography and borders.
There are several large container holding warehouses in the area; the one I wanted was just North East of historic Fort Wayne. I didn’t know why they called it that, but it made a convenient place for me to park the bike so I could walk the rest of the way. The red brick walls of the Fort protected me from prying eyes as I walked East along the paths, like any other citizen strolling a crime-infested part of the city while the sun went down.
I wore my scarf around my neck, with it set up to easily pull up over my nose. The jacket I borrowed from Joseph rested neatly on top of my hoodie, making me stylish and quite comfortable in the cold air.
When I reached the end of the fort, I checked my six to make sure no one followed me. Once I knew it was clear, I stepped off the path into the copse of trees. As I moved through them, I slid the scarf up over my nose and pulled the hood up over my head so only my eyes were visible. I knelt down and did a weapons check. Both USP Tactical pistols were loaded with 9mm hollow point sub-sonic ammunition and had silencers attached. The Czech made Skorpion was securely attached to my back with a retractable harness, not unlike what people use to walk their dogs. If I grabbed it and pulled it would come free, but if I let it go, it would zip right back to the small of my back. With the stock folded the little SMG was barely larger than my forearm. Capable of fully automatic fire and with a thirty-round magazine, it could spit out the bullets far faster than I could possibly need. I had eight mags total for my pistols, four for the Skorpion. Once I was sure they were all locked and loaded, I checked my knives. Two K-bar tactical knives, one in each boot. Plus a third Ka-Bar tanto blade for backup. Joseph had heavier weapons in his armory, but I hadn’t trained with those as much as these. We did pistols and knife fighting every day, along with hand to hand—I wouldn’t say I was an expert, but I was pretty darn close. And for extra security, I brought along a thermite grenade—in case things got serious.
Kneeling in the copse, I waited for the sun to go down. As it did, I did something I don’t think I had done since I was a kid; I prayed. It seemed somehow wrong to pray to God to help me kill people, so I prayed for him to help me save people. And to watch out after Sara.
I miss you Spice.
I checked my phone; sundown was in mere moments. I turned the phone off, put it inside my cargo pocket, and buttoned it closed. I didn’t need it falling out or ringing at a bad time.
Then the sun went down.
And that was the last time I felt normal.
A whole world of senses opened up to me, making my prior experiences seem like I had been watching a black and white TV through a dirty window—with tape over my eyes. The world exploded in sound and colors. The shadows vanished, inverting into brightly lit spots that beckoned to me. As if light was darkness and the shadows were little spotlights.
The sounds of far-off traffic faded, then the Detroit river faded, then ringing of the buoys and passing boats. All I heard was life. A squirrel ran from tree to tree looking for food. A grouse darted through a field of ahead of me. A loud screech caught my attention and I jerked my head up in alarm; a hawk with red patches on his feathers circled far above, looking for one last meal before night time fell completely.
“How is this possible,” I said to myself. Joseph hadn’t exactly left me a manual for how to use his powers. I thought it would just come naturally, and to some extent, it was… but this… I’d thought it had worked earlier in the day but that was nothing compared to now. No wonder he only operated at night. This was beyond anything I could have ever imagined. What would he tell me…
“Madi, you’ll be like a predator at night, in your element, lethal…”
I shrugged. Okay, he could have said that, but I doubt I would have understood until I experienced it. Only after it came over me could I even believe such a thing possible.
I slipped out of the trees, sticking to the brightest spots, moving only when my footing was sure. The group of buildings off to my left was the port offices—and I assumed the bulk of the men who guarded this place. A small field separated the trees from the main area, which was really nothing more than gravel, football-sized field, stacked fifty feet high with rows and rows of brightly colored containers. The field itself was surrounded by a ten-foot-tall razor wire-topped chain link fence that ran all the way to the wall of the buildings. The only way in was through the buildings or over the razor wire. Every hundred feet, bright LED lights shone, illuminating the containers but also casting deep shadows in corners that weren’t lined up with the lights.
I spotted my entrance; a lone tree by the fence, maybe fifteen feet tall. I ran for it. I had run every day for the last three months and I knew exactly how long and how far I could sprint. My forty-yard dash was five seconds—not lightning speed, but respectable. I blinked twice and blasted through the fifty yards to the tree in four seconds. I skidded to a stop at the base of the tree, hardly out of breath.
Oh my God. This is awesome.
No wonder evil people were even worse once they had powers; the feeling was exhilarating—like I could do whatever I wanted and no one could stop me. That was a sobering thought.
Easy Madi. You have a mission, stick to it.
Right. I climbed up the tree and used the limbs to vault over the fence, landing on the other side as silent as a fox running through the forest. I spotted my first quarry over by the closest container. I was deep in shadows between two lights, he wouldn’t see me even if he had night vision. He leaned against the container, smoking a cigarette. The sawed-off double-barreled shotgun he carried told me I had the right place.
The shadows on the other side of him were beyond bright—they coalesced, swirling in a weird pattern that was almost hypnotizing. I reached out with my mind … and I was there. For a split second, I passed through… something that was freezing cold, then I was there. The area lit up with an eerie blue light as I appeared and I realized it was my eyes, the way Josephs had flashed after he appeared.
The mobster dropped his cigarette and tried to bring up his gun, but he was far too slow. Watching him move was like watching an ant in molasses. I pulled one silenced USP and fired three rounds at point blank range into his chest. With my other hand, I jammed my thumb between the hammers and striker of his double barrel shotgun. He pulled the trigger as he died, but the hammers simply thudded against my thumb. I yanked the gun out of his dying hands and let him fall.
I took a second to break it apart, unloading the shells on the ground next to him. I tossed the gun a
side and looked around. A feeling of invincibility washed over me. I looked up. I could easily climb those containers, so I did. Like a spider, I shot up the side, vaulting from handhold to handhold, clearing ten feet with each whip-pull of my muscles.
Once on top, I could move around and see the whole yard, and hopefully find out where they were keeping Krisan. This was even easier than I thought it was going to be.
Chapter 30
Famous last words. As I looked out at the sea of containers I was overwhelmed with the number: hundreds, if not thousands. How was I supposed to search all of them? Even with my crazy enhanced senses and my newfound abilities that wouldn’t work. I needed to know which one it was, and I needed to know now!
The office. Whoever was in charge of this place had to keep records somewhere, even if they weren’t here at the moment. I took off at a sprint, leaping from container to container as silent as a shadow fluttering in the breeze. I reveled in the feeling of power. A part of me, a small part of my mind, questioned what the cost would be for all of this. At that moment, though, I didn’t care.
As I approached the northern corner of the container field, movement in my peripheral vision caught my attention. I spun around, and a small hand clamped over my mouth to keep me from crying out.
Sara? Spice?
She gazed into my eyes. My little sister whom I loved more than anyone on this planet. She had died in my arms last year. Just a few months for me. Almost a year for the world.
She put one finger to her lips to ensure I would be silent. When I nodded, she moved her hand. Before I could ask anything she bounded off silently in the direction I was already going. Once at the edge, she pointed down. When I stood next to her, I looked down and saw the head of a goon standing guard. I looked at her, at the curl of her smiling lips, the brown in her eyes—it was my little sister. My Spice. I had questions, but she shook her head and pointed again.
Superhero by Night Omnibus Page 13
