The men turned toward the sound as the newcomer closed in on them. Two of the agents were standing close enough together that the newcomer brought both his hands around in a wide arc as though clapping and shoved the agents’ heads together. It struck Israel like something out of a cartoon, except for the way the agents’ heads collapsed beneath the blow. Blood burst between the bigger man’s spread fingers.
The third agent fired his taser into the tattooed man’s chest and squeezed hard on the trigger. Israel could see the wires connecting the man to the weapon, could hear the buzz of electrical discharge, could smell flesh starting to roast at the contact points. The tattooed man just laughed and yanked the wires free. Taking one large step, he punched the agent hard and fast in the center of his chest. Bones popped loudly as the man’s sternum shattered under the blow and he was lifted off his feet to land in a heap five feet from his killer.
Israel stared in wide eyed horror at the tattooed man. He heard six rapid pops from behind him. He spun and saw another man by the second SUV, smaller and much more handsome than the other, with a smoking pistol in each hand. The last of that vehicle’s agents was dropping to the ground, each shot twice in the head. The scent of cordite and blood mixed in the air. Israel looked around in bewilderment. He’d just seen six men die in as many seconds.
“Hi, Israel,” the gunman said. “You won’t remember us, but we met back in Chicago a few weeks ago. I’m Jordan Screed; this is my brother, Carmine. We need to talk.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The first thing she heard as she came awake was a young girl laughing. Erin lay still, listening to the sound blend in with the creak of floorboards, the clatter of dishes, and a television playing but most likely ignored in the background. There was a soft pillow under her head and a heavy blanket covering her. She was still dressed, but someone had taken off her shoes. A scent filled the air, a wonderful aroma that made her mouth water and her stomach gently grumble- someone was making bacon and coffee.
She started to sit up, but winced and settled back down as dull pains hit her from a variety of angles. After a few long minutes, wakefulness took hold and memories came back to her. She pushed past the aches in her ribs and face and sat up. She was on a worn leather couch in a small room. A window in one wall showed a bright desert landscape outside. There was a desk against one wall with a small computer and printer on it. On the wall above the desk there was a collection of framed photographs- dozens of them -that all depicted a man in various settings with different people, some of them famous, Erin thought, but she couldn’t put names to the faces.
“That’s my ‘I love me’ wall,” a heavy voice said.
Erin turned and saw a man standing in the doorway. He was tall and heavyset with late middle age. His hair was graying but still showed signs of the rich brown it had been when he was younger, the way it was in the pictures. A thick and graying Van Dyke beard highlighted his mediocre lips. His sharp, assessing eyes never left Erin’s face.
“Just a lot of photos from my life. Places I’ve been, friends and family, that kind of thing. I’m Charlie.” He took a step forward and extended his hand. Erin took it and gave it a quick shake.
“I’m Erin,” she said. “Where am I?”
“My house,” he said. “We’re just outside Victorville. Malena and the other girls said you slept all the way here. We couldn’t wake you when you arrived last night, so we just set you up on the couch. It’s the quietest room in the house.”
Charlie stepped out of the room and gestured as he spoke. “Bathroom’s right over there, kitchen’s this way. I made a big breakfast, just follow the smell. How do you like your coffee?”
“Oh- Uh… cream and sugar, if you’ve got it,” Erin said.
“Oh yeah, I’ve got it. Make yourself at home and join us at your leisure,” he said.
Erin found her shoes by the couch and slipped them back on. She followed Charlie’s directions and turned toward the bathroom. The house was no Silversky, but it was large and comfortable. Art- real paintings, Erin noticed -hung on the walls and created a kind of gallery in the hallway. She was looking at a landscape filled with a blue harbor and white buildings when Malena came out of a doorway farther down.
The younger woman was freshly showered and had changed clothes. She was quite lovely and smiled when she saw Erin. “Mi ‘angel,” she said with a crisp accent, “you’re awake. How do you feel?”
Erin shrugged. “Like I got my ass kicked, but I’m good. Where are we, exactly?”
“Did you meet Charlie?”
Erin nodded.
“He is a kind of uncle to one of the girls. Her father is his best friend or something like that. Charlie made a lot of money back when the Internet was starting up. It’s his place and he’s letting us stay here for now. We’ve called everyone we can for the girls; some of them have already been picked up by their families. He’s a good man. You can trust him.”
Erin thought about that. “Does he always take in truckloads of victimized women?”
Malena shook her head. “No, but he is involved with helping people get their lives together after major setbacks- grief counseling, that sort of thing. He often has groups that stay here for days at a time as a kind of getaway, so he’s set up for guests. He doesn’t much care for the police. He blames them for something, I think, so he’s content to let us stay without involving them.”
Erin nodded. “Okay. Where’s that bathroom?”
Malena showed her the way and said, “Charlie has some extra clothes for when people stay here. Want me to try and find something for you?”
Erin looked down at the bloodied and filthy remains of her stolen outfit. “Yeah, that would probably be a good thing.”
Malena smiled again and said, “Get a shower, mi ‘angel, and I’ll lay the clothes on the sink for you.” The younger woman turned and headed for the door she had come out of. Erin stopped her. “Malena,” she said, “I told you before. I’m not an angel.”
Malena studied her quietly and then said, “We are all more than one thing. Perhaps you are and just haven’t realized it yet.” She was out of sight before Erin could reply.
The hot shower was nothing less than glorious. It stung her battered face, but the combination of heat and steam seemed to leech the ache from her ribs and jaw. As she’d expected, she was sporting a bruise the size of a softball on her side. Her face- well, she figured she wasn’t ever trying to lure in Johns again, so who cared if she looked like the wrong end of a beating.
When she stepped out of the shower she found a large pile of clothing covering the sink and closed toilet. Malena had come and gone silently and had brought a variety of things for Erin to choose from since she hadn’t known her sizes. Erin toweled off, brushed back her wet hair, and went through the clothing. By the time she was done, she had settled on a pair of jeans, a pair of scratched Doc Martens with thick soles, a black t-shirt with a Guns N’ Roses design on the front, and a well-worn light brown leather jacket. Malena had also left a small paper bag with the clothing. In it were Tiko’s- no, they were hers now, Erin told herself -pistol and spare clips.
Suitably attired and with the pistol zipped into a jacket pocket, Erin went into the hall and followed her nose to the kitchen. When she walked in, she was greeted by a gaggle of fresh-faced and rested young women who all smiled at her, hugged her, and thanked her for what she’d done the night before. Erin looked around for the little girl who’d been sitting in her lap, but found out that she had already been picked up by her family. She was glad for that, but wished she could have said goodbye.
Charlie had already set her a place at the table with a plate piled high with eggs, bacon, toast, and fresh fruit. Erin dove into the food. With all that had happened, she hadn’t realized how hungry she was. Hunger sated, she sat content, nibbling at the last bit of her toast while Charlie refilled her coffee cup. He brought it over and he and Malena joined her at the table. He set the cup in front of her and she took a mom
ent to breathe in the smoky aroma. They talked for a long time. Erin deftly avoided questions about her past, but did so as politely as she could manage. She asked Charlie about some of the photos she’d seen and he was happy to regale her with stories of his traveled youth. Finally, after way too much coffee, they came back around to the present.
“So,” Charlie said, “we’ve got people coming for the others, but what about you? Is there someone you can call? Do you need a ride?”
Erin looked out one of the kitchen windows and picked a point in the desert. She focused and immediately felt it there, ready to pull toward. She smiled and released it from her mind. “No,” she said. “I can make my own arrangements.”
Charlie nodded. “Okay.” He sipped his coffee and studied her in silence. Erin tried to ignore it. She didn’t want to be rude to the guy who’d just opened his house and pantry to her.
“Malena told me what you did back in Primm. How you broke up that party with nothing but some lights. Pretty smart. So, what? Are you some kind of cop?”
Erin laughed. It was a rich, hearty thing that bubbled up from her gut and carried three days’ worth of terror and tension with it. She did it long enough that Malena and Charlie shared a confused look.
“No, no,” Erin said, gaining control of herself and wiping tiny tears from her eyes. “I am so not a cop. I just… heard about it. I couldn’t let it happen.”
“You are a hero,” Malena said.
“No,” she said. “I’m not. I just… Look, it was a one-time thing. I was there, I did what I did, and that’s that. Now, I just plan on traveling for a while. I just want to keep moving.”
Charlie nodded. “A walkabout. That’s what they call it in Australia. Can’t fault you for that. I had to do something similar once.”
Erin nodded. “Thanks for all this,” she said. She raised the coffee cup to her lips, glancing up as she did. The television was in the next room, though no one was really watching it. On it, there was a blond talking head rattling off something she couldn’t make out. To her left was a close-up picture of Israel Trent. The words ‘Terrorism in Atlanta’ were splashed across the bottom of the image.
“So, where do you think you’re headed?” Charlie asked.
Erin got up without answering and walked over to the television. As she drew closer, she could understand the newscaster’s words. It took a couple of minutes of listening, but she got the gist of it. Israel was on the run and being hunted for conspiring to commit some kind of terrorist plot.
“Bullshit,” she said.
“Erin? Mi ‘angel?” Malena said.
Erin looked back at her and pointed at the television screen. “That is bullshit!”
“What?” Charlie said. “That Atlanta thing?”
The front door was a few steps from the television and Erin used it, stomping out of the house and slamming the heavy screen door behind her. She paced in the yard like a caged animal, furious thoughts clawing at her reason. She was suddenly so angry, but she couldn’t pinpoint why. Israel was in trouble, that much was obvious, but why was that such a big deal to her?
Stupid question, she knew. He was the first guy in her life to try to look out for her and want nothing in return. He was the first guy who had treated her with decency and not like a sex toy or a punching bag. Hell, they barely knew each other but he’d gotten her awake and out of that Oceanside hellhole when it would have been just as easy and probably smarter to keep walking.
Maybe that was it, though. He couldn’t have kept walking, couldn’t have left her on her own. She’d needed help and he’d given it with no thought of reward. That’s just who he was. Even now, that sort of confused her. When she heard the front porch’s door open and Malena call her name, though, she realized maybe it wasn’t so confusing after all.
Erin stopped pacing and faced the younger woman. “I have to go,” she said.
“Why?” Malena asked, joining her in the yard.
“That man on the television, he’s my friend. The things they’re saying about him are lies and I think he needs my help.”
“How will you get there? Will you just…” she held up her hands and extended her fingers in a ‘poofing’ motion.
“I don’t know. I’m not sure I can.” Or could she? Originally she’d had no intention of returning to Atlanta, so she hadn’t given much thought to pulling that far. She wasn’t sure it was even possible, but then realized that it had to be. After all, isn’t that what she’d done the first time?
That first time was unintentional, unfocused, and yet it had brought her not only back to Nevada, but near to one of the places that held a terrible memory for her. Could it be that she had done it instinctively? That roadhouse had been a place where she’d resigned herself to feeling trapped and used. It was an emotional scar she still felt, and when her power had first kicked in, those two guards had been holding her. She’d felt trapped.
Erin glanced at the front porch and then walked over to the side of the house, away from most of the windows. Malena followed her.
“Go inside,” Erin said. “I want to try something.”
“I want to see.”
Erin looked at her. “Go inside, Malena.”
The younger woman hesitated and then turned to go. “I will remember you always, mi ‘angel.”
Erin hardly heard. She was focusing on her memories. She dredged up what she could recall of Silversky- the scents, the lighting, the feel of the place. Mostly she tried to remember that last night there- the guards’ hands on her arms -Stone right up in her face -Warburton trying to control everyone -struggling to get away -Israel looking sick -feeling the emotional stew of anger, fear, and helplessness boil through her. She bundled all of this into a tight bubble of concentration in her mind and then let it explode outward, far and wide, farther than she’d ever tried to reach before. Then, there in the far fringes of her awareness, she felt a small connection, like a fingertip hold in the dark. Erin mentally latched onto it, took a deep breath, and pulled.
When she materialized in Warburton’s office, she felt a wave of drunken dizziness wash over her. Erin stumbled a little at the sensation but stayed on her feet. She gasped as though she’d been holding her breath and, indeed, felt as though she had just sprinted a mile. When she saw Warburton looking at her from behind her desk, though, she felt her strength rapidly return on a wave of anger.
“You,” she said, pointing at Warburton. “What did you do to Israel, you bitch?”
“Erin,” Warburton said, her eyes wide. “Where did you come from? Your face- are you all-”
Erin picked a spot right next to Warburton’s wheelchair and pulled. She was very satisfied with the short yelp of surprise she got from Warburton when she appeared. She leaned in close and said, “Where is Israel?”
“Oh my god,” Warburton gasped. “You… you teleported. How-?”
“Answer me.”
Warburton’s surprised demeanor disappeared and the determined and controlled expression that was her norm slid back into place. “We don’t know. We’re looking for him. Now please, back away. You’re making me uncomfortable.”
Erin stood up, but didn’t step back. “What is this terrorist bullshit?”
“That’s not Sentry,” Warburton said quickly. “I would never do something like that to him. He’s been nothing but cooperative. That’s the DGRI.”
“Those government guys? Why the hell are they after him? Did this happen to him, too?”
Warburton shook her head. “Not exactly. A lot has happened in the last day or so, though. Please, just sit down and give me a moment to explain.”
“If I even so much as hear a guard coming, I’m gone. Understand?”
Warburton nodded.
Erin picked a spot next to one of the couches and pulled. Warburton jumped a little in her seat when it happened, but didn’t cry out this time. She stared at Erin in wonder and said, “That is, without a doubt, the most amazing thing I have ever seen and, Miss Simms, I ha
ve seen more than my share.”
Erin settled onto the couch. She had chosen one with a clear view of the entire room, including the window that lead to the yard. “Israel,” she said. “Start talking.”
Warburton did just that. She told her everything that had happened since Erin had disappeared from the office, with the exception of her conversation with the Arcane. Warburton told her about Paragons and how rare and unique they were. She told Erin about the Necrophage bloodline and what Israel had become and what the DGRI wanted to do with him.
When she was finished, she sat quietly and waited for Erin to process it all. The younger woman did, if silently and slowly. She’d risen and was next to the window, looking out over the grounds. She seemed to be struggling with all the information she had just been given.
“Erin, where did you go?” Warburton asked, unable to hold her patience any longer.
Erin looked over at her. “Home. I had some things to do.” She faced the window again and said, “So, what do we do now? We need to find him.”
“We?” Warburton said.
“Yeah,” Erin said, “for the moment. Until Israel is safe. I owe him and, I guess, you for getting me out of Oceanside. After that, though, I’m gone again. I’m not interested in all of this bullshit. Get this straight, too: If he asks me to get him out of here, far away from here, I’m going to do it.”
Warburton nodded her assent. “Honestly,” she said, “I’d much prefer that over the DGRI catching up to him.”
“Why haven’t they?” Erin asked. “I mean, I’ve seen how cops act when they get organized and start looking for someone. If he was heading for that state park, that wouldn’t be too hard a place for them to lock down. Izzy’s not Rambo. They’d catch him.”
Awakened Page 15
