Night Shadows (Children of Nostradamus Book 2)

by Jeremy Flagg

  “Ariel,” Mark said.

  Water from the fountain hurled itself at the boy. As it closed in, the hiss of steam filled the room. Mark watched as Ariel approached the boy. Her feet weren’t touching the ground, she was nervous, but she was putting on a brave face. Mark sprinted to the side of the fountain and ducked down behind the lip, near enough that he could see the two mentalists.

  “Son, we need you to calm down,” Mark yelled.

  “He’s terrified,” Ariel responded. Her voice sounded distant, almost void of emotion, a sign she was starting to lose herself to the euphoria of her abilities. The boy’s face didn’t register their conversation. He was panic-stricken, looking more like an animal backed into a corner than a human.

  She gently reached out with her hand. “It’ll be okay. There is a nice man here trying to help us.”

  She must have passed an invisible barrier, a line the boy had drawn in the sand. Fire leapt from his chest, incinerating his t-shirt and trying to strike Ariel. Mark gasped as the fire brushed off to either side, deflected by an unseen force. He knew she was talented, but to see her in a dangerous situation accentuated just how vast her abilities had grown.

  Mark searched for Ivan. He saw him lying on his back several feet away. Mark crawled along the floor, grabbing the man by the collar pulling him back to safety. Another fireball lit up the room, washing them all in heat. The few security guards remaining were backing away from the fight.

  “Ivan, are you okay?”

  The man didn’t respond. Mark noted the tension in his chest. He suddenly felt an immediacy to the situation. What if something happens to Ariel? What if the boy is shot? What if he dies? What if I die? His thoughts started to race toward the worst possible scenarios.

  He reached up to the fountain and dipped his hand in the water. The boy spewed flames at Ariel but none came close enough to even warrant concern. The boy had never dealt with somebody like her before; she wasn’t moving to subdue him, instead just waiting out the situation.

  “Want me to do something?” she called back.

  “Keep doing what you’re doing,” Mark responded.

  He splashed the water on Ivan’s face. He tapped the man’s cheek, aggressively enough to leave a handprint. He shook him. “Wake up, dammit.”

  Ivan’s back arched as he shot up for a moment. He sucked in air and spun about, his eyes darting to and fro. They rested on Mark. The fear in them was palpable. Mark took the man by the shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

  “An empath.”

  He started to speak again but his body went limp. His eyes stared off into space like nobody was home. Mark reached into the man’s lab coat and fished around. Without a doubt there would be a syringe with a sedative in it. Mark tried to recall everything he knew about empaths. They can touch stuff and feel thing? No, that’s psychosymmetry. Empath’s read people’s emotions and can project them outward. Mark suddenly realized the racing of his heart. It was fear: there was somebody here capable of making him feel fear.

  Mark felt the familiar plastic in the man’s pocket and pulled out the syringes. He bit one of the caps and pulled it off. He stood up, scanning the room, looking for somebody who didn’t belong. Ariel had pushed the boy against the wall and held him in place. Fire erupted around her and she swatted at it with her hand, knocking the flame away.

  “Just a few more minutes, Ariel,” Mark yelled.

  He rounded the fountain, and was nearly to the front doors of the lobby when he discovered a small female hiding behind a potted tree. He paused the moment he saw the young girl huddled on the floor, trying to make herself look as tiny as possible. He wanted to take a step forward but something in his body told him to flee. He was sweating enough that his eyes stung.

  “It’s not you,” Mark whispered to himself.

  If he didn’t get to the kid, they’d kill him. They’d kill the pyro and ultimately they’d scrub them all from existence. The rage in the pit of his stomach brewed. He wouldn’t let this child scrap everything he was trying to build. This fucking pathetic piece of garbage is going to kill us all.

  A moment of clarity washed through his body. He screamed as he charged toward the young female empath, syringe gripped tightly in his hand. With every step forward waves of doubt washed over him. He tripped and fell to the ground, skidding alongside the kid. Fucking empath, he screamed in his head. He jabbed the kid with the needle and pushed the plunger down.

  She stopped shaking and slumped to the floor. Mark rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Every muscle in his body relaxed, and he realized how drastically the empath’s abilities had affected him. He couldn’t help but wonder if that was also the cause of his rage-filled frenzy.

  He turned his head while resting on the floor. Ariel cradled the pyro on the stairs, holding him tightly as the security staff rushed back into the room. She ignored them as they surrounded her. Mark tried to speak but found his body incapable of operating. He was thankful when he heard Ivan barking orders. “Leave them. Get the wounded. Goddard needs medical attention or he’s going to lose both his hands.”

  Mark couldn’t help it. He laughed. Goddard, you sack of shit, you finally got what you deserved. I hope you lose both hands. Lately he startled himself with the cruel thoughts dancing across his mind, but this was the first time he felt no remorse. The man deserved to die, but if that wasn’t going to happen, he was best left to suffer.

  Mark laughed out loud at the thought.

  Chapter 15

  2033

  Dwayne stalked around the side of a subway car, trying to remain out of sight of the increasing number of synthetics. He needed to get close, enough to put his hands on the metal and near the battery that gave life to the annoying machines. It didn’t require powers to be useful, but it certainly helped.

  He scrambled along the ground, spotting one of the synthetics several cars down. If he could dodge the lasers, avoid the bullets, and not have his limbs ripped from his body, he had a chance. He didn’t like the odds, but being the powerhouse in the group carried certain responsibilities. The obligation to save everybody fell on his shoulders, and the fight hadn’t ended yet.

  Shots rang out in the air, bullets ricocheting off metal subway cars. The machines were effective killing machines, and as more climbed down into the subway, it would become more difficult to hide. Did they have thermal cameras? Were they trying to corral them? Did the assholes in charge of the assault want them alive? He didn’t like not knowing the rules of the game. Until they figured out what was happening, it was a destroy-everything mission.

  He crouched at the corner of a subway car, tucking himself under the transport, removing himself from the line of sight of a wandering machine. Metal scraped along the gravel, one step, two, three; it paused, examining the area. Somewhere a human watched through the camera, relaying information to the machine. Dwayne wanted to blow up the controller centers more than he did the robots—humans hunting his kind like it was a deranged kind of sport.

  He barely moved his foot when the synthetic pivoted, head moving back and forth as it scanned the area. Dwayne raised his hands above his head, getting to his feet slowly. He hoped the operator was under orders to take them alive if possible, otherwise he’d feel the shredding potential of small projectiles piercing his flesh.

  “No luck!”

  Skits jumped down from a subway car, landing on the synthetic’s back. Even with her weight it didn’t fall to the ground like she hoped. She clung to its head, trying to bend it backward. The machine reached back, snapping at her face, trying to latch onto something it could pull.

  The laser whistled as it powered up. He jumped at the machine, grabbing on to the metal bar resembling a collarbone. He siphoned in a breath, tasting the power held in the synthetic’s chest. He drained the battery, his emptied cells craving the power radiating off the machine. Light blasted through the metal chest plate and into his palm. He gripped the machine, holding on as Skits pulled at its hands.


  The synthetic stopped moving, the hydraulics freezing in place. He let go, a weird sensation creeping along his skin. His body already wanted to expel the surplus of power; he had to focus his attention to keep it from escaping every pore of his body. “I can’t hold it long.

  “You won’t need to.” Skits climbed off the machine’s back and pointed across the tracks toward a passenger platform. He followed her gaze to the dozen machines climbing down the fallen ceiling to the platform. Even if he was at his peak, he’d be hard pressed to hit that many man-sized objects with lightning. In the small space, he didn’t have the luxury of them acting as conductors, or being able to blindly fire hoping to strike a large object.

  “We’re so fucked.”

  The world turned white. He feared he fainted, knocked unconscious by the sudden increase of electricity running rampant through his body. It took a moment before he realized Vanessa had stolen him away from his body into the white room.

  “I need you,” she said.

  “I’ve got them.” He nodded.

  “No,” she said, “that’s not what I mean.”

  She reached out, touching his shoulder. He stood confused as her hand seemed to meld into his skin, leaving a green stain across his shoulder and chest. He tried to pull back, unsure of what was happening, but found his legs refused to function.

  “No, Vanessa.” His voice didn’t leave any question. He tried to swat at her but even his arms rejected him. The green stain spread quickly. He could feel it working its way to his neck and covering his face. A moment later, he could see through his eyes again, but like he viewed the world through a long tunnel.

  He screamed for Vanessa, but his lungs didn’t respond. The woman stole his body, trapping him within his own head. He raged, the sound filling the space, but never reaching his mouth. The telepath had taken over his body before, but always at his request or with his support. In those instances, they worked his body in tandem, a joining of abilities. Now, she caged him like an animal.

  The surge of power discharged through his body. Instead of lightning tearing from his skin, she let the charge build until the strain threatened to rip apart his innards. At the last moment, she let it go, no light, no electricity, just a discharge of energy. She repeated the act until his body grew weak from the rapid expenditure of electricity.

  From the corner of his eye, he recognized Conthan, his expression perplexed. Dwayne strained to see the synthetics on the platform, but found they were just beyond his perception. He had no idea what the woman was doing with his body, but he wanted her gone.

  “EMPs?” asked Conthan.

  Dav5d had theorized he could do it. If he let the energy reach critical mass, he could release it, frying electronics like when his lightning struck near circuitry. As fatigue took hold, he was pissed at the woman. He had tried the tactic before but to no avail. She stole his body and mastered his abilities in seconds. He wanted her gone.

  His hand touched Conthan’s shoulder. The synthetics on the platform hadn’t moved, but a new wave of machines was entering the subway. As he touched the skin on Conthan’s neck, the long tunnel vanished and his vision returned to normal. He didn’t need to see her; he knew she had jumped from one body to the next.

  ***

  Survival instinct pushed aside the growing fatigue. Back pressed against a subway car, Conthan debated if a prayer was in order. At their best, they’d be outmatched; a dozen machines might require a little effort if they had their powers. But now, they were no more than walking bags of flesh waiting to be pulverized by lasers and torn apart by metal hands. He was caught between Jasmine and Alyssa, their faces both holding a fear he shared.

  “Can we run?”

  Jasmine shook her head. “There are enough subway cars here for us to hide. Once you run for the tunnel, they have a straight shot.”

  “What do we do?”

  A machine rounded the corner of the subway car, gun raised, ready to start shooting. Bang. Bang. Bang. Jasmine absorbed the shots, her body buckling further as each bullet connected. While she grappled with the machine, tearing the gun away and reaching for its neck, Conthan turned his attention to the ground.

  Alyssa slipped inside the subway car while he felt around for any object large enough to smash into the robot. Jasmine knocked him over as the synthetic shoved her against the car. A stone twice the size of his fist sat less than two feet away from his face.

  With the rock in hand, he smashed it against the synthetic’s skull. He hoped it’d disconnect the head, perhaps even destroy whatever artificial intelligence was housed inside. As the rock struck, it crumbled to powder. The machine clutched Jasmine with one hand and tried to grab him with the other. Conthan grabbed on to its wrist, trying to pull it away from his friend.

  Jasmine raised her feet and slammed into the robot’s chest. As it staggered backward her lungs inflated, sucking in air. The machine assessed the situation and decided Conthan, at least for the moment, was the bigger threat. He didn’t have time to react as it latched onto his forearm and pulled him close, its free hand pointing the forearm gun at his chest.

  The head of the machine jerked backward with a loud metal ringing. It jerked the other way with the same ring. Alyssa wielded a metal pipe like a club. She tossed it to Jasmine and the former Marine jammed the end of the pipe into the synthetic’s neck and cranked it to one side.

  Sparks erupted as it spasmed, trying to pull the pipe from its neck. Each of their faces mirrored Conthan’s panic. “We can’t keep this up, we can barely take on one of them.” Alyssa said.

  “I see them.” Jasmine pointed to the next set of tracks. Further down, Skits had her back pressed to a subway car, trying to hide from a synthetic rounding the corner.

  The popping of guns stopped.

  “No more gunfire?” asked Alyssa.

  Conthan tapped Jasmine on her shoulder. “You two go get Skits, I’m going for Dwayne and Vanessa. Keep an eye open for Dav5d, he can’t have gone far.”

  They didn’t reply. They were already in a mad dash to reach Skits. None of them wanted to waste the sudden ceasefire. Whatever reason the machines paused, he had to assume it was nothing short of a miracle. They may have a chance to reach further into the tunnels and put distance between them and the synthetics. He didn’t believe in a higher power, but he promised to thank God if they made it out alive.

  “EMPs?” he asked as he approached.

  He reached Vanessa and before he could ask why Dwayne appeared like a zombie, she touched his face. Her nails would have caused him to flinch, but his body didn’t respond. The sensation of being pulled at wasn’t unfamiliar. A year ago in the Facility, she asked to push aside his mind and control his body.

  I hope you know what you’re doing, Vanessa.

  You can’t save me. He recognized Dav5d’s voice. The despair caused his heart to ache. For a moment, he worried the strain on his body was giving him a heart attack. Vanessa’s emotions boiled over, and the anger seared through his brain. He ground his teeth, preparing for a bloodcurdling scream.

  “No!” It escaped his lips and Vanessa’s at the same time. Vanessa’s mind opened, and he knew the moment she tugged at his powers, they were leaving her love behind.

  The portal opened. Jasmine grabbed Alyssa and Skits and dragged them through the black disc. His spine strained as his back bowed. Wherever his power resided, it threatened to snap his body in half to prevent him from opening another portal. Vanessa didn’t stop, opening one last hole in the air as she closed the first.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said through both her and his mouth.

  ***

  The subway lit up as gunfire erupted on either side of her. Vanessa tried to focus, gather her thoughts, but each time she touched the minds of her teammates, an explosion forced her back into her own head. It had been years since she exerted this much effort to reach out to friends.

  Panic. The last time the emotion consumed her had been when the Nostradamus Effect started
changing her body. She survived puberty, high school, and her undergraduate degree, and her body betrayed her. Already gifted with the ability to read minds, her body took years to be labeled as a gift. She panicked as Sister Muriel hugged her tightly, assuring her it was all part of God’s plan. If only she believed in a God.

  No. Panic scattered her thoughts, she needed to pull it together if she was going to save the day. Anger—underneath the panic she recognized the fire, the sheer disgust made her want to lash out at the synthetics. The human operators were well over a hundred miles away, making it impossible to fry their delicate brains.

  The tunnel shook as large chunks of the ceiling collapsed. She hoped Dwayne or Conthan was the cause. Until she managed to shake off the distractions, she wouldn’t be any good to the people who trusted in her to lead them. Fleeting thoughts from the others were just out of her reach but they radiated the same emotion; they shared her panic. They believed they were going to die.

  “No.”

  Her resolve didn’t have time to form as a synthetic leaned over the roof of the subway car. The sound of ripping steel assaulted her epiphany as the machine dug into the car, holding itself in place while it held up both arms. The guns pointed less than a foot from her face.

  Her scream tore through the air as she reached up, grabbing the machine by the hands. Vanessa put her weight into the motion, yanking down hard, tearing the synthetic from the side of the car. She wouldn’t win an arm wrestling match against Jasmine while the former veteran was powered, but at the cost of being green, the Nostradamus Effect had given her more strength than most.

  She directed the forearms away from her as they fired a series of bullets. Her hands vibrated from the recoil, and she almost let go. The synthetic matched her strength, but unlike the cursed machine, she’d tire in seconds, and then the next bullet would pierce her skull. She braced one foot against its chest, then the other, and pushed as hard as she could.