Catalyst: A Superhero Urban Fantasy Thrillride (Steel City Heroes Book 1)

by CM Raymond

  Chem hesitated, then pulled a laptop from his bag and opened it on the bar. “I’ll show you what happened to me.”

  Grainy, black-and-white security footage filled the screen.

  “Are they still making those Paranormal movies?” Elijah asked.

  “It’s my lab. And apparently, something crazy went down there last night, while all the little boys and girls were tucked in their beds.”

  Chem hit play, and Willa’s mouth dropped open, just slightly. “That’s him. That’s the man I’ve been chasing.”

  Elijah leaned closer, taking in the moving image of the large man. Elijah could feel that he knew him, could remember the twisted face of the mask staring down at him as he fell. His skin crawled and a pit formed in his stomach.

  As they stared at the computer, the figure on the screen used a crowbar to bust open a lockbox of some kind as if were made of aluminum foil. He pulled out something small and placed it in a bag.

  “What did he take?” Willa asked.

  Chem paused the video. He rubbed his hands over his face and then over his hair. “You two aren’t going to like this.” He nodded in the direction of Elijah. “You better keep an eye on Rage Against the Machine, Willa.”

  Elijah’s face grew warm. He had no idea where this was going, but he already knew it wasn’t good. “What the hell did you do?”

  Getting off his stool and taking a step back, Chem leaned against the stainless steel wall. He put himself in a corner, whether defensive or submissive, Elijah wasn’t sure. “It was your blood, Elijah.”

  “My what? You gave them my blood?”

  Chem laughed. “First of all, I didn’t give them anything, he took it. Secondly, it wasn’t exactly your blood. Well, it started that way, but I…I made some adjustments.”

  Willa took a step toward the chemist as if she might strike him before Elijah got a chance to. “You’re messing with powers you know nothing about, Percy. What were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking about fat stacks, maybe the cover of Time. You know, what all three of us are here for. Fame. Money. Prestige. Hell, I’d be happy with healthcare. You two would have done the same thing in my situation.”

  The chemist seemed sincere, but Elijah couldn’t fight the suspicion there was a lie sprinkled in with the truth. But now wasn’t the time. He placed his hand on Willa’s shoulder as if to hold her back. Looking at Chem, he asked, “What can it do?”

  “If I was successful? It could be the fountain of youth”

  “And if you weren’t?”

  “It could turn that guy into you.”

  Elijah felt Willa’s shoulder stiffen. Her sudden fear was the most convincing piece of evidence he had yet to see.

  “Just like him?” Willa asked.

  Chem wrung his hands and then jammed them into the pockets of his jeans. “No. Not exactly. I mean, it’s untested. But the plan was to enhance it. I added a stabilizing element. Give the user more control over the turning. The plan was to isolate the healing elements. But—”

  “But what?” Willa asked, voice raised.

  “Well...I wasn’t exactly done with it. If someone were to take it as is right now? I’d run like hell in the opposite direction.”

  Willa sat back down. Elijah could only imagine what she was thinking.

  “There’s more,” Chem said, then pressed play on the video.

  Elijah watched as the large man turned to leave the lab, but something stopped him. He paused, then turned toward the camera. With one swift motion, he pulled the mask from his face, as if he wanted to be seen.

  There, staring straight at them, was Rex Bertoldo.

  “Holy Shit,” Elijah grunted.

  “You know him, don’t you?” Chem asked, clearly pleased that his assumptions were true.

  Willa’s anger flared again. “Who is he, Elijah?”

  “That’s my boss’s muscle, Rex. That guy,” Elijah pushed his finger against the screen as the realization set in, “was there for my first blackout.”

  Then as he spoke another memory came to mind, one much older. An ancient mill, a burning cauldron. A large bald man staring him in the eyes as he pulled the lever. Molten steel raining down around Elijah. But it wasn’t Elijah’s body. Wasn’t Elijah’s memory.

  Strange words played on Elijah’s lips, but they weren’t his words. “Rana te ljuta zapala.”

  “We have to stop him,” Willa said, ignoring his curse. “He killed Sean. I know it. He’s behind whatever the hell happened to you. He’s got something planned, and whatever it is, it can’t be good.”

  “Like hell we do. I’m planning on getting the hell out of dodge. I mean, can you even find that rat bastard?” Chem asked. “Willa said the guy can go all ghost protocol whenever he wants to.”

  Elijah looked up at them as a dark truth struck him. “I know where he is. He’s with Brooke.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  Lights shimmered in every direction throughout PPG Place. While Oakland was King’s home, he considered downtown his retreat—especially during the winter months. Leaning against a giant concrete planter, he took in his surroundings. The square was walled in by the glass of the large PPG buildings. Their spires cast a cyberpunk vibe over the complex. An ice rink rivaling Rockefeller Center sat in the center of the square.

  The sound of laughter swept out across the ice and echoed off the glass walls. King was in an urban disco ball.

  Not seeing any cops, he lit his bowl and took a long hit. Almost instantly, the scenery became more dreamlike. He closed his eyes and exhaled. A woman, with a child in tow, passed through his cloud and gave him a sideways glance.

  “Evening, ma’am. Sorry to disrupt your experience.”

  She pulled her kid closer and double-timed it toward the rink. If people viewed him as a homeless man in Oakland, they treated him like a criminal downtown

  “Hey, King.”

  Standing just off to his left was a wiry kid of thirteen or fourteen. His puffer jacket was a well-worn hand-me-down, still a size too big.

  King pocketed his pipe and smiled at the boy.

  “Marcus. What’s up, little man?”

  “Not much. Gramma’s takin’ us skating.”

  “Oh, yeah. Where’s she at?” King scanned the crowd looking for Roberta.

  “She’s over there.” Marcus raised an overstuffed arm. King assumed he was pointing, though his hand was swallowed by the jacket. “Laquisha’s having a fit—thought I’d take a walk.”

  “I hear that. How’s school doing? You getting all As?”

  “B in science, but otherwise, top of my class.”

  “That’s my man,” King said. He held out a fist and Marcus returned a parka-covered fist-bump.

  As King turned away from the boy, he was nearly knocked over by a couple sprinting for the doors of PPG Tower. “Whoa, settle down folks,” he yelled, more playful than angry. “What’s the rush? It’s not like it’s the end of the world.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  Elijah swept his credentials through the card reader; the doors of PPG Tower clicked open. Brooke never responded to his text message, and calls were still going straight to voicemail. Luckily, her assistant was on call, and she confessed that Rex had delivered Brooke to the office for an emergency session with the board.

  Whatever Rex was planning, Elijah hoped that they weren’t too late.

  The poet and the historian b-lined for the front desk. They had parted ways with Chem at the bar. If they were really running into the mouth of some super-villain, the chemist really had no business joining them. When he said their goodbyes, Elijah could hear the gravity—the responsibility—in his voice.

  Elijah smiled at the night guard and pushed his hand through his hair. “How’s it going?”

  The pimply-faced kid couldn’t have been over twenty. “Hey. You one of Alarawns?

  “Yeah,” Elijah said. “Crazy time of the year—board meetings and all. Everybody upstairs?”

  The guard n
odded. He looked as excited as a ten-year-old boy at a Broadway musical. “They’ve been in and out all day. Busy as hell. Guess that’s the price of the big leagues.”

  Elijah gave a courtesy laugh. Willa stood frozen at his side.

  “Sure is.” He paused. “Did Mr. Bertoldo arrive yet?”

  “I can’t tell you that. Company policy,” the guard said. “But I can’t stop you from looking at the sign-in list.” The kid grinned and spun a clipboard in Elijah’s direction.

  Elijah printed his name directly under Rex’s. The man had been in the building for just under thirty minutes.

  Turning to Willa. “Rex has a head start. He’s up there with Brooke already.”

  The poet nodded and sped toward the elevators. “I’m sure she’s fine.” But by the way, Willa was walking, he could tell she was lying.

  “Thanks,” Elijah said trying to match her long strides.

  Despite it being the middle of the evening, it took forever for one of the dozen or so elevators to open. The two stepped in and Elijah pushed the button for the thirty-eighth floor. The lift hummed and began its ascent, their eyes glued on the numbers. Nearing the twentieth floor, the elevator jostled and the lights flickered. Willa lurched for the wall to steady herself.

  After a pause and a cough, the tiny box continued its upward trajectory.

  “That’s not creepy at all,” Elijah said, faking a smile. It did nothing to ease the tension. Willa seemed in her own world.

  “You don’t have to do this, you know. You have a choice.”

  She looked up at him like he had just said what she was thinking.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Brooke isn’t yours to save. And Rex, he’s not your burden. You did what you could to save your student, you don’t need to avenge him. You could just...I don’t know. Go home.”

  She shook her head. “I made my choice. Whatever it takes, he’s going down. Tonight.”

  Elijah nodded. “Well, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t glad you’re here. It’s nice to not be alone. For my sake and Brooke’s.”

  “What’s with you two anyway?”

  Elijah looked away. “Who? Me and Brooke? She’s my boss.”

  The young professor faced forward. She pressed him, “There’s more though, right? I don’t know many people who’d risk what you’re risking to save their boss.”

  Elijah felt flushed. The elevator eased to a stop and opened into the Alarawn offices, and he exhaled, glad to dodge her questions. “Let’s go.”

  The front desk was empty and the entire floor was cover with an electric twilight from auxiliary lamps on the walls. Something had knocked out the primary lighting. The temperature seemed to have dropped twenty degrees.

  “Something’s not right here,” Willa said.

  “You can say that again.”

  The pair stepped through the office, its open floor plan eerie in the darkness. The common workspace was a ghost town. A noise echoed from the executive suite. Elijah steadied himself, then followed the sound.

  “My. God,” Willa whispered. Elijah wasn’t sure if her words were an expletive or a prayer. It could have been both.

  The boardroom was as cold as a meat locker—and just as bloody.

  Elijah did all that he could to stifle his gag reflex as he took in the body count. Five souls, as far as he could tell, had expired in the room. Their corpses were in various states of dismemberment. Most were huddled close to the door—as if they held hope in escape.

  An arm lay on the floor at his feet.

  Chairs were scattered throughout. The dark oak table, half the size of the room, was split through the middle. A portrait of Thomas Alarawn lay torn on the carpet.

  Gurgling came from across the room. A slight black man lay in a corner alone, impaled in the chest by the splintered rod of wood. Blood trickled from his mouth. Fluttering eyelids exhibited the thin thread of life remaining in what would soon be lifeless flesh.

  Elijah raced to his side. He crouched close enough to the man that he could nearly feel his bloody breathing.

  “…monster…”

  “Quiet. I can help you, we’ll get you out of here,” Elijah said. He placed two hands on the shaft in his stomach.

  “No…Brooke…” The man’s face went blank. A final cough brought his ragged breathing to a halt. Lifeless brown eyes stared off into an eternal nowhere.

  Elijah counted bodies. Not seeing Brooke amid the carnage, he exhaled.

  “We have to stop him,” Willa said, without looking at Elijah.

  “We need to call the police. Look at this place? Do you think we stand a chance against Rex? What are you going to do, quote some Shakespeare and make him disappear? You’re not exactly equipped for this kind of thing.”

  “Maybe not,” Willa said. She turned to face the historian. “But you are.”

  “Me?” Elijah shrieked. “You’re out of your mind. Rex could snap me in half without Chem’s enhancements.”

  “Maybe as you are now. The other you would stand a chance. Your monster could stop him.”

  Elijah paced the boardroom, stepping over bodies and broken furniture.

  “Me and him, the monster, we kind of had a falling out. And besides, it doesn’t exactly work on command. I don’t know if I can do it.”

  Willa smiled and said, “You will. You’re here for a reason, Elijah.”

  He stared at her, wondering if the poet was still drunk. But her eyes held nothing but the truth. She believed everything she said.

  It almost made him believe it too.

  “What if I turn into that thing, and I only make things worse? You said it yourself, it almost killed you.”

  She placed her hand on his arm. “I don’t know how to explain it, but even when I thought it was going to kill me, I could still sense your presence inside of it. Like you were fighting it. Maybe it’s time to stop fighting against it, and start fighting with it.”

  A shout from another office halted their conversation. Willa ran toward the noise, leaving Elijah no choice but to follow.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

  Halfway down the executive corridor, Elijah saw a large door swing open.

  “Right on time.” Rex’s face was twisted in a snarl.

  “We know what you’ve done, Rex.”

  Rex’s snarl turned into a smile. “Okay, detective, you’ve got me.” Rex raised his hands, palms out toward Elijah and Willa. “You going to take me to the precinct for booking?”

  “Where is she?”

  “Who?” Rex asked in a sincere tone that knocked Elijah off-center.

  “Brooke. What have you done to her?”

  “Done to her?” The man laughed again. “The question is: What did I do for her?”

  Rex took two quick steps and positioned himself between Elijah and the boardroom.

  Elijah surveyed the man, trying to determine if he’d been changed—a transformation that might have been catalyzed by Chem’s serum.

  Rex cracked his knuckles. “I’ll give you one chance to turn and leave. You can consider this a termination of employment,” he said, looking at Elijah.

  Whether it was anger or the thought of Brooke being in trouble, Elijah felt a new courage course through him.

  “I don’t work for you, dipshit. But when I tell Brooke what you’ve done—”

  Rex’s laughter interrupted Elijah’s threat. “I’ve done nothing but give her what she’s always wanted. True power.”

  Elijah heard a quiet mumbling. Willa’s lips moved—her eyes dilated.

  The historian cursed to himself. It looked like he was alone in this. He hoped Willa was sane enough to dial 911.

  He took a step toward Rex. “Let me pass.”

  “Over my dead body,” Rex said. “You don’t stand a chance here, historian.”

  Elijah made a fist with his right hand. The last punch he’d thrown was against Caleb Boyer in the eighth grade. Twenty years hadn’t improved his form. Rex blocked with his left arm, a
nd countered with a quick, but brutal, right to Elijah’s gut.

  The ox put barely any effort in, but when his massive fist landed in Elijah’s stomach, it knocked all the wind out of him. Elijah collapsed to the floor. Rex reached down and grabbed him by the shirt.

  “I’ve been wanting to do that since the day I met your uppity ass.” Saliva and hate shot across Elijah’s face.

  Rex lifted him as though he were weightless and heaved his body over a cubicle divider. Elijah landed with a crash.

  The world spun.

  “It’s your turn, bitch.” Rex stepped toward Willa.

  Elijah, dazed but still conscious, could see her lips moving—the words came in a whisper. As the man approached, she closed her eyes and raised one hand toward him. With steady syncopation, the words got louder.

  “Wild words wander here and there;

  God’s great gift of speech abused

  Makes thy memory confused:

  But let them rave.”

  Whether it was pure light or color, Elijah couldn’t be sure, but something coursed from Willa’s hand and landed in the center of Rex’s torso. The man paused, then stumbled backward. He shook. Sweat broke out on his face.

  Whatever was happening, it wasn’t enough. Rex slammed a fist against his chest in some kind of primordial warrior salute and stepped again toward the poet.

  Willa was unfazed. It might have been his imagination, but Elijah thought he saw the poet smile.

  She closed her eyes and started again. This time at full volume:

  “A mark in every face I meet,

  Marks of weakness, marks of woe.

  In every cry of every man,

  In every infant’s cry of fear,

  In every voice, in every ban,

  The mind-forged manacles I hear.”

  Rex froze. Then, grabbing his head, he dropped to one knee and then dropped onto his side.

  Elijah climbed out of the smashed bits of office furnishings to join Willa. The fair-skinned woman was paler than he had ever seen her.