Forecast of Shadows

by Bronwyn Leroux

  The Bandit gestures toward the former prisoners. “You’ve freed them. Now free me—please! Please!”

  His begging torments me, but I won’t do it. “I’m not killing you before you’ve had time to live out of bondage for a while. You’ll have sanctuary with us for as long as you need to heal.” Moving so fast he surprises me, the Time Bandit grabs my hands. I’m ready to fight him off but realize he means me no harm. “You need time.”

  “I don’t. I want to die. Please, kill me. Now before he comes, before he gets his hands on me again.”

  Speaking of the devil must’ve conjured him because Trent interrupts us. “Howie reported the battle’s headed this way. Time to get these souls out of here so we can finish this.” He gives me a meaningful glance. He’s willing to do what the Time Bandit asked if I won’t. A slight shake of my head tells him I’m serious. Surprise registers in his eyes. Yeah, a week ago I would’ve let him kill the kid.

  Wordlessly, Trent picks the kid up and tosses him over his shoulder. As he objects, Trent growls. “Bandit, you heard the Cap. You get to sample life with freedom before she’ll consider granting your request.”

  Trent races toward the exit, following the rest of our crew herding prisoners out of the awful room. As far as they’re concerned, we got what we came for. Barring Trent, none of them are aware of my ulterior motive.

  Since Vaughn’s not around, there’s no point in me staying either. I can’t leave fast enough. As I chase after Trent, the empty cages hound me. If only we really were leaving now. Bile coats my tongue with the knowledge of what comes next.

  We’re almost at the exit when the expected bullet zings past my ear. I duck behind the gigantic metal canister I knew would be there. The portion of my crew responsible for the prisoners make it out of the room. They’ll get them to safety. The rest of the group takes cover where they can. Trent tries to do the same, but with the Bandit on his back, he’s slower than usual. Knowing what’s coming, I suck in air. The bullet rips into Trent’s shoulder. Another tears into the Bandit’s leg. Trent grunts, and the Bandit screams as they both go down.

  They’re safe for now. I seek my prey. Sneaking a glance over the barrel at the other entrance, I find him. Vaughn strides into the room, bold as a lion prowling the grassland. Too arrogant to acknowledge more dangerous predators hide in the grass.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I risk another glance at Trent and the Time Bandit. Trent’s hauled them behind a stack of crates. I spot the Bandit’s face. While I would never kill a defenseless man, his abject terror almost makes me wish I’d granted his request. In a way, I will grant it, but not how he thinks. Is this why I didn’t ask him his real name? So he could remain a nameless face among the many futures I’ve seen?

  “Don’t shoot!” I step out from behind the metal canister, my glaive secured on my back, my hands raised in surrender. Vaughn’s hand flicks up as he commands those with him to obey.

  Trent’s hiss of objection follows me. “Forecaster, don’t!”

  I spare him a smile over my shoulder, then use the opportunity to mouth the words, Get out! Take the kid!

  Regret spears me at Trent’s torn expression. He promised to stay by my side until we finished this. But if he stays, the Bandit’s welfare will distract me. I give him one last encouraging smile, hoping he’ll forgive me for what I plan. Hoping he’ll remember the love and gratitude in that smile for the way he never took advantage of me, cared for me. Hoping the positive route I forecast for him will be his future.

  Then I face Vaughn. “Still up to your old tricks. Why is it some people never change?” I smirk when the words startle him. “What? Did you think I’d be the same meek, intimidated little girl you stole three years ago?”

  Recovering, Vaughn squares his shoulders, faking confidence. Despite the show, I saw his eyes rake over Kane’s body. He’s aware I have full use of my ability. Whatever he throws at me, I’ll see coming.

  “Scared?” I toss out, striding forward.

  When he drags Beth from behind one of the thugs standing beside him, it’s no surprise. Nor is his intent to use her to bargain his way out of here. I’m not even surprised the Hawks’ leadership occupy places of prominence at this side, even though Caden’s cowardly ass sticking around is inconceivable.

  Stopping a few feet away, I trace the routes flashing to the forefront. In milliseconds, I select the route holding the most promise and march closer, addressing the combined crew. “This is between me and your boss, boys. If you don’t want the other groups in my crew ambushing you, I suggest running.”

  Vaughn’s combined force stands frozen—again, just as I foresaw. I provide some motivation. “Did he tell you what I can do? Or has he been keeping that secret from you, like so many others?” I don’t wait for answers because I know I won’t get them. “Do you know I can see the future?”

  Incredulity raises eyebrows and sets the group scoffing, but this time I do wait, expecting one of his lackeys to speak the words I forecast. He does. “No one knows the future for certain.”

  He doesn’t realize how true his words are. But neither he nor any of the others here can know. Lowering my hands, I place them on my hips and sway forward.

  I glance at the thug I suspect is Vaughn’s second-in-command. Or perhaps that was Kane. Either way, this guy, Matt, will help me get Vaughn’s cohorts out of here.

  “Is that so? Then why can I see you and Candice sneaking away after you’ve taken out her pimp?”

  I pause, Matt’s future flashing before me. The pimp’s murder Vaughn shamed him into committing, should Vaughn survive today. Matt’s remorse, realizing the need to escape Vaughn and all he stands for before Vaughn coerces him into another act violating his soul.

  “Matt, why is there a cabin in the woods you’ve been keeping to yourself since you discovered it on one of Vaughn’s raids?”

  The man’s stunned expression convinces those closest to him I’m not lying.

  I angle sideways, getting into the spot where I know I must be if I’m to get Beth out alive. “You kept it a secret so you could hide Candice there. You’re worried about her, but what about your cohort, Kate? Tell me, Matt, did Vaughn tell you he stashed Kate away in a cage at another location?”

  Shock ripples through Vaughn’s men. As Matt turns on Vaughn, murmurs follow. “Is that true?”

  Face paling, Vaughn glares at me and blusters at Matt. “Don’t listen to her. She’ll say anything to divide us.”

  Matt steps closer to Vaughn, his fists balling. “How does she know Kate’s name then?” With a slanted glance, Matt challenges me. “Prove your words are true. What did Kate do, and where is she?”

  Tensing, Vaughn turns to face his men, his hand temporarily leaving Beth as he tries to placate them. Not yet, not until I tell them. “I forecast the future, not the past. I don’t know what Kate did, but Vaughn thinks she defied his authority. He has to teach her her place. In fact, he planned to do so again right after this.”

  Vaughn’s eyes shine with triumph before I cut his hopes down. “It was one of the less likely routes for the future. But he won’t give Kate another beating. He won’t go back to that squalid little shed in the back garden of the house you pillaged last week. He won’t free Kate. You will.”

  Eyes pure fury, Matt rounds on Vaughn, who’s taken a step back. “You lied to us.”

  Everything happens exactly as the route showed. The minute Vaughn’s crew turns on him, I swoop in and snatch Beth. Hugging her to my chest, I dart away, thankful she’s too startled to resist.

  Confused yells follow me. They don’t know whether to chase me or deal with their boss. Not that they’ll have a choice. The three remaining groups in my crew, deployed to other areas of the refinery, are about to join us. Right on time, they barge through the back entrance.

  Chapter Twenty

  Gunfire erupts. Blasts from rifles, shotguns, and handguns mingle with bullets pinging off the metal in the room. Vaughn’s cohorts add to the ma
yhem—yelling, stumbling over one another in their mad desire to escape. Using the chaos, I get Beth to the industrial dumpster I spied in my forecast.

  Hiding in the shadows at the back of the vast room, I decide the dumpster’s thick metal sides will protect her. Tucking Beth inside, I realize she hasn’t said a word since I grabbed her. Her eyes are huge, limpid pools of blue in a face as pale as a wan moon.

  Her striking resemblance to how I looked, how I felt the moment after my parent’s car exploded, arrests me. The surrounding pandemonium dims as my focus narrows to Beth. To this girl who has allowed me a chance at redemption. She must be terrified.

  As gently as the moment allows, I touch her shoulder. “Stay here. As long as you do, you’ll be safe. I’ll be back to get you soon.”

  “Are you taking me back to my parents?” Her voice is steady, but her hands tremble.

  “It’s your choice. I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to. For now, can you trust me and stay put?”

  Beth gives me a hard stare, which confounds me until I remember that, despite her age, her life has been anything but easy. Deciding she can trust me, Beth sinks into the depths of the container.

  Desperate to reassure her, but aware time is against me, I choose the latter. If I don’t get into the position I foresaw, I’ll have to trace alternate routes, which isn’t ideal during a battle.

  I race back to the melee the gunfight has become. Every weapon with a trace of metal has been smashed up against the wall at the far end of the space. Evidently, my crew aren’t the only ones with an Abbie who can control metal. I lift a hand to where my glaive resides, unsurprised when I find it torn from its holster on my back. Probably plastered on the wall with the other weapons.

  I scan the clashing crews for Amp. Amplifier isn’t far. I race around the perimeter of the room until I’m close. Then I dart in, snatch him away from his opponent, deck the dude swinging for me, and race back toward the wall, Amp in tow.

  I’m pleased he’s not surprised. He knows I don’t shirk fights. Amp grins. “What’s up?”

  “Project my voice. Yes, now,” I snap, forestalling the question. He nods, indicating it’s done. “Listen up!” My voice booms across the room, and the crews pause, more out of surprise than obedience.

  “We can prolong this circus, or we can get real. I’ve proven Vaughn’s lied to you once. I can prove countless other times. Are you really going to stay and fight for him?”

  Sullen stares are my only reply. My crew subtly shift into better positions around the room. I slide my eyes meaningfully at them. “I don’t want you—any of you—dying for Vaughn’s cause. Let me clarify things further. Raise your hand if you’re fighting for Vaughn of your own free will.”

  Not a single hand goes up. But I see our enemies, whether part of the Hawks or Vaughn’s crowd, shifting uncomfortably as their eyes skitter around the room.

  I raise a pacifying hand. “Come on, I’m trying to prove a point. Help a girl out.”

  I pretend not to notice Vaughn inching toward me, exactly as I forecast he would. I wait for the next part to happen.

  Two hands to go up. “Two, out of all of you with him!” Disgust colors my voice. “Doesn’t that tell you something? That you’re fighting for a man who had to coerce almost all of you?”

  The first mutters flutter around the room. I give them a moment. Those not on my crew need to realize what I’m implying before I spell it out. When the mutters become a low, discontented hum, I nod. “Yes, finally, you realize you’re going to die for a man who’s given you nothing and taken everything. Most notably, your freedom to choose.”

  Resentment blooms as our foes realize I’m right. Vaughn still slithers toward me. Does he think I don’t see him coming, or is he dumb enough to think he can get away with it?

  I glance to where Trent and the Bandit were. As forecast, the Bandit still writhes on the floor, hands clamped around his leg. Trent moves toward me, tracking Vaughn’s progress. I want to tell him to lie down and rest, not worry. He won’t have a role to play in this. But I can’t tell him.

  Addressing the mob, I say, “If you really think he’s worth risking life and limb for, stay. If you’d prefer your freedom, leave.” The crowd’s restless, but no one budges. I roar, “Leave! Leave now!”

  It’s like pouring water over an anthill. With the metal wranglers distracted, the guns drop to the floor, adding to the commotion. There’s suddenly so much movement keeping track of Vaughn is almost impossible. But he has to be my focus, him and Trent and the Bandit. The crowd thins enough for me to find them.

  I smile. How easy it was to dupe the Hawks. Caden never was very bright. I didn’t say his crew would be free of mine, only that they’d be free of Vaughn.

  My eyes track my nemesis now as he strides toward me. As expected, Vaughn’s loyal attack dogs have attached themselves to their master. I nod at my few remaining crew, the ones who didn’t chase after the fleeing Hawks. “You can have them. But he’s mine.”

  It happens exactly as I forecast, so slowly I almost wonder how the others don’t see it coming—except for Trent, as is typical. He discerns the subtle movement when Vaughn’s hand snakes behind his back. His eyes widen with understanding, and he staggers forward, hand to his shoulder as he tries running. He won’t make it in time. He’s too weak. I’m not sure if his face is so white because of blood loss or terror. “Nylah! Get down!”

  Trent’s alarm and anxiety for my wellbeing echo through his shout. My heart aches with it, with the security he provided. With the brotherly love he lavished on me. Will he forgive me? Will he accept what I choose for him? Too late to worry about it now.

  I face my enemy, raising my hands in the defensive block Trent taught me. The time has come. For a nanosecond, I debate talking Vaughn out of his weapon. But it will be better if he thinks it gives him an edge. Without it, his bulk may be too much for me.

  Vaughn lunges, his hand gripping a ceramic blade, impervious to the metal wranglers. I dance away. His blade slides past, slices empty air. Pivoting, I dare a grin at Trent, noting his emotions. Comprehension that I have full use of my ability again. Anger that I didn’t tell him. I shoot him an apologetic smile. It’s all I have time for before he stumbles, felled by blood loss.

  Putting thoughts of Trent aside, I face Vaughn again, waiting for the next stab. This is the toughest part, with too many outcomes to factor perfectly. The only certainty is if I don’t get the knife away from Vaughn, I really am sentencing Bandit to his fate.

  Vaughn slashes forward. I glide sideways, grab his arm. Not a clean hold. Too messy. He’s too far away for a decent grip on either the knife arm or wrist. I can’t use my elbow as planned, but I can still hurt him. Switching from the intended elbow to his face, I crash a full-arm side hammer fist into his head. It knocks him away, creates space between us.

  Stunned, Vaughn reels. It doesn’t last. I forecast his planned overhead strike. When he arcs the knife over his head and plunges down toward me, screaming his rage, I’m ready. Fling my left forearm up, counter the downward thrust of his arm, rotate my torso, propel my right hand up into his nose.

  Blood spraying, Vaughn stumbles back, howling, clutching his face. Not enough time to take the knife. I’m relishing Vaughn’s pain. His ragged breathing. The damage I’ve done. Somehow, it still doesn’t feel like enough for what he’s done to me. Or any of the others he took.

  Biding my time, I wait for his last strike—or what I hope will be the last strike. In times like these, my vision narrows to only what I can see in the next few seconds. The most defined routes with the most certain outcomes.

  With a roar, Vaughn charges, thrusting the knife toward my sternum. Left arm to block the blow. Twist into his side, get in close, real close, shoulder to shoulder. Grab the knife wrist with my right hand. Pump my left elbow in a quick three-prong strike: face, solar plexus, kidney.

  Vaughn grunts from the impacts as I angle his wrist. Either he drops the knife, or I’ll br
eak his wrist. Delightfully, he doesn’t drop the knife. Bending his wrist all the way, the bone snaps with a sharp crack.

  Screaming profanities, Vaughn falls to the floor, cradling his wrist. I stand over him, breathing hard. Images flash before me, striking harder and faster than lightning—but not fast enough to stop the inevitable.

  The flicking images all show the same thing. Trent’s loss of consciousness. The Bandit crawling toward us, unnoticed because my focus is on Vaughn.

  My forecast shows the kid’s now only an arm’s length away. I grab for him, wanting to get him out of the way. Scramble for routes to circumvent what seems inescapable. Spot Vaughn over the Bandit’s shoulder, rolling on the floor. Am powerless to stop Vaughn snatching his blade with his undamaged hand.

  Snorting like an enraged bull, Vaughn lurches to his feet and charges, knife leading the way. The kid turns to find the source of the commotion. Steps between me and the plunging blade.

  His cry of agony as the knife spears him skewers my soul. Numb, I switch from vision to reality.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  An unearthly wail fractures the silence. I want it to stop. It’s awful. Then I realize it’s me. I cut the sound off, unable to accept I can’t change this future. The Bandit bleeds out in front of me.

  With my own howl of rage, I shoot out a kick, forcing Vaughn back. I should’ve ended him when I had the chance seconds ago. Instead, I hesitated. I won’t make the same mistake twice.

  I close in on Vaughn, and he turns and runs. Like the coward he is. I sprint after him. The only people left in the room are Vaughn, me, Bandit, and Trent. The rest have fled. Vaughn’s two goons aren’t dead or dying on the floor, so my crew must’ve taken off after them. No doubt they thought Trent and I would take care of Vaughn.

  We’re nearly at the edge of the room when I realize why he ran. He’s going for the guns.