Night Shadows (Children of Nostradamus Book 2)

by Jeremy Flagg

“I grew up with ‘them’, Mark. I know so much about a mentalist’s abilities because I spent my entire life next to one.”

  Mark tried to think back to the personnel file he received on Ivan. Nearly every line had been redacted. He hadn’t been surprised, it came with the job. Each of them had exposure to extremely sensitive information; he had assumed Ivan had too.

  “No guesses?”

  “Ivan.” His tone made it clear to stop playing games.

  “Her name was Natalia.”

  Ivan stood up and continued toward the door without another word. Mark mulled over the four words. He wondered if she was his girlfriend, or a mother, or perhaps his sister. He wanted to ask, but he knew better than pushing the man. Ivan was egotistical, even pompous on his worst days, but Mark couldn’t think of a single moment he had been reserved and reluctant to provide information.

  He decided that it was a sister. He wasn’t sure why he needed that piece of information, but something about it gave Ivan another dimension, something more than a man in a lab coat. If he was right, Mark was surprised by how tame the man seemed and how dedicated he was to his work. Mark couldn’t explain it, but if it had been him, he imagined he’d be a psychopath killing people for revenge.

  Mark followed the man, working his way through the corridors to the more military-oriented projects in the building. They had been given an ultimatum, either push through with military applications or have the mentalists washed from the program and refocus on the cybernetics. The term “washed” was used loosely, and he had no doubt that it meant the majority of the center’s personnel would not survive the corporate restructuring.

  He pushed his hand against the sensor and stepped through as the door whooshed open. Inside, he stood next to Ivan. There were was a comfortable silence between them. Mark didn’t dare ask any more questions; instead he thought it best to focus on work. “I’m worried this is not going to end well.”

  “You need to stop viewing them as kids.”

  “You need to stop viewing them as weapons.”

  “When you realize they’ve been burdened with abilities that have forced them to grow up, especially in a world that would see them dead, you’ll understand they never had the option to be kids.”

  Mark wanted to argue the point, but Ivan was right. Neither of these kids had the chance to watch cartoons and go on dates. They were born into a time when their parents had to make tough choices about survival. Ariel’s mother abandoned her, and if a mother not wanting you wasn’t a way to grow up quickly, he couldn’t think of a harsher catalyst. Arturo had no family to speak of, and even now, his story basically started with him wandering the streets. No, nobody had it easy in that room.

  Mark and Ivan stood at the observation window looking down into another training facility. Ariel and Arturo entered on the far end. There were large objects placed throughout the room to give a bit more of a realistic setting. Mark knew there were a dozen security guards entering from the other side. He pressed the intercom on the wall. “Remember, they’re using rubber bullets and stun guns. It won’t kill you, but it will hurt. A lot.”

  Ariel gave a thumbs-up. Goddard watched from another observation deck across the football field-sized room. A monitor came to life; the security guard looked annoyed. Goddard held the microphone close to his mouth. “Rubber bullets. Are you sure your brats aren’t going to hurt my men?”

  Ivan pushed the button back. “The room is filled with fire suppressant. If Arturo gets out of control, we can shut him down quickly.”

  Goddard shook his head. “I’m talking about the girl.”

  Mark ignored the man. He switched the microphone to the room. “Begin the exercise.”

  Ivan sat down at a computer, watching the meters and charts move back and forth. Mark didn’t understand exactly what Ivan was reading. Mark was a visual man; his assessment would be based on how well the two held their own against the security guards.

  Mark noted Ariel’s feet were firmly planted on the ground. Either she overcame her nervous tick, or she really was as confident as she let on. As the first security guard rounded the corner of a giant metal cylinder sticking out of the ground, she raised her hand. The man stopped moving, his gun yanked away from his hands and the thrown across the room. The second guard managed to pull his trigger once. She didn’t flinch as the rubber bullet was slapped away by her abilities. The man was knocked backward, dropping his gun.

  “She’s remaining calm,” Ivan said. “Her heart rate isn’t fluctuating and her norepinephrine levels aren’t moving. She’s completely under control.”

  Two sets of guards flanked Ariel, their weapons raised. They didn’t hesitate as they fired at her. Arturo’s fists clenched and flashes of lights burst from the end of two of the guard’s weapons. The end of the guns were warped, useless to their owners, who opted for their backup sidearms.

  Ariel’s attention must have been focused on the flash, because a stray bullet struck her in the shoulder. She yelled as she hit the floor. Mark pressed his hand against the glass. He reached for the microphone, prepared to call off the exercise. Ivan held up his hand and Mark froze at the gesture. The scientist shook his head. “It’s only a bruise.”

  Mark watched as a stream of flame appeared on the ground in front of two guards, causing them to take several steps backward. Ariel latched onto one man with her abilities and hurled him into another, sending both men to the ground. She didn’t make any move to find cover, opting instead to stay in the open and draw them out.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Goddard barked orders into his headset, providing his guards with information. Mark wanted to reach through the monitor and punch the man, but he kept his emotions in check. There would be time for a confrontation at the debriefing.

  Arturo sent a line of fire from one of his hands at two oncoming guards. Both men dropped to the ground. One rolled onto his back and fired his gun to the ceiling. After several attempts, the sprinklers spat out white foam. The flames vanished and Arturo and Ariel were covered in the fire retardant. Mark didn’t want to see them lose, but he had to admit there was something genius about taking Arturo out of the fight so quickly.

  Ariel stepped between the boy and the guards. The guards held down the triggers on their guns, sending waves of bullets at her. She flung out her hand and the projectiles froze in the air. With a snap of her wrist they cascaded onto the floor. She no longer stood on the ground. She hovered, and her hair moved as if it had a life of its own.

  “Her heart rate is elevated. Her respiratory rate is increasing.”

  Mark wanted to yell to her. He wanted to tell her that two guards clad in all black had managed to circle around behind her. They approached a position that they’d be able to strike. He watched helplessly as they raised their weapons to their cheeks and took aim.

  He couldn’t count how many times they pulled the triggers, but each time, Ariel’s body jerked. She fell forward onto all fours and even through the bulletproof glass, he heard her screaming. He grabbed for the microphone. He jolted backward as the two security guards were hurled against the glass. Both men slumped to the ground, unable to move anymore.

  “Her hormones are rising quickly. Her abilities are flaring.”

  The foam coating the ground dispersed toward the walls. Mark was impressed with how strongly she forced her surroundings away. Two guards smacked against the far wall. One held up his gun and fired it at the girl. After the projectile froze several feet from her face, it exploded into a fury of bright colors.

  Ariel shielded her eyes from the bright light. The guards capable of moving positioned themselves quickly, scattering about the room. One ran forward and skidded to his knees, holding out a small gun. He pulled the trigger and two wires sunk into the girl’s shoulder. Arturo attempted to grab the wires, but jolts of electricity shot through them, sending her to the ground.

  Mark pushed the button on the microphone. “Stand down. The exercise is complete.”

  He ignored
Goddard’s laughing in the monitor. He watched as the battered guards helped one another to their feet. Mark flipped the switch to speak with his nemesis. “Twelve men to take down a single teenage girl. Looks like they’re softer than you.”

  He gave a middle finger to the monitor and flipped off the switch.

  Ivan shook his head. “Someday I’m going to snap his neck.”

  Mark nodded as Arturo rolled Ariel onto her back. The boy checked her pulse, making sure she was breathing. Mark didn’t want to admit it, but what little innocence endured in the girl was about to be wiped away. There would be no more use of the word “restraint” or “safety.” No, Mark was going to tell her if it came down to them or her, she should always make sure she walked away the winner.

  “You won’t get the chance,” Mark said in a quiet voice. “I’m going to kill him first.”

  Chapter 22

  2033

  Conthan led Dwayne through a door to a dock overlooking the river. He held the man’s arm, guiding him along as Dwayne continued to curse under his breath. The moment they cleared the metal door, the smell of rotting fish filled his nostrils. He gave a slight shove to the older man.

  “What the hell were you doing?”

  Conthan leaned back as Dwayne threw a punch. He ducked under swinging arm and stepped behind him, locking his hands around Dwayne’s head. For a moment, he thought Jasmine would be proud of the maneuver. He tightened his hold on the man’s neck, forcing him to stop struggling.

  “Dwayne, I’m not your enemy.”

  He let him go. Dwayne slammed his hand against the metal of the warehouse wall. As his knuckles connected, electricity shot out, snapping against the steel. Dwayne leaned against the wall, banging his head just hard enough to have hurt.

  “She got inside my head,” he said. “Conthan, she fucking mind-raped me.”

  Vanessa had done the same to him, but he had invited her to take over his body. He knew the woman could push his abilities further and it was the only way they’d survive. He understood the sensation of being a prisoner in his own body. He didn’t know what it was like to have the choice ripped out from under him.

  “It’s over, man,” Conthan said.

  “It’s getting to me, Conthan. This whole thing, it’s finally getting to me.”

  Conthan raised his eyebrow, confused by the confession. He wasn’t sure what Dwayne was speaking about. Despite the last twenty-four hours, things had been going fairly well for the group. “What do you mean?”

  Dwayne turned around and leaned against the wall, banging the back of his head. Conthan could read the pain on his face. He processed his mentor’s emotions, each of them neatly displayed on his face as the lines creased his forehead. Conthan didn’t know if he should reach out and console the man, or let him deal with his demons.

  “I would have done the same,” he whispered.

  “What?” Conthan asked, confused at the statement.

  “I would have fucking-mind raped you to get out of there. I’d have done the same thing.”

  Conthan nodded his head in response. Considering Dwayne had tortured one of their teammates before she joined, he wasn’t shocked he would do the same. Twenty-four hours ago, the thought would have turned his stomach, but having just killed a man, he didn’t have the moral high ground.

  “This isn’t me,” Dwayne said. “There was a time when I was a mellow pacifist. I didn’t blow things up, threaten to kill people—”

  “I killed a man in cold blood tonight.”

  The statement took Dwayne by surprise, stopping his self-loathing pity party. Conthan felt for the man. He wanted a life outside of the hero gig, he wanted something more than trying to survive. He understood the feeling.

  “So we’re in the same boat,” Dwayne said. “We’re slipping down into that dark hole.”

  Conthan shook his head. “You want to go back to something you had before this. Skits tells me you had a pretty good life once upon a time. I get that you want it back.”

  “I hear a but coming.”

  “Gretchen and I went to the church today. We were attacked. I stopped the man who attacked us. Then, I snapped his neck.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Conthan shook his head again. “I’m not. A year ago, you said to be worried if it came naturally.”

  “I remember.”

  “It’s not natural. It’s not easy. But I will kill anybody who threatens me or mine.”

  While Dwayne hoped to find redemption, Conthan found himself willing to abandon the hope of being saved. Every night he put himself in harm’s way, he told himself it was to save the victims of the government, but he understood it was the allure of being powerful. The government took something from him; he wanted to make them suffer.

  “I spent so much time mad at you for what you did to Jasmine and it didn’t have anything to do with you. I was mad at myself. I didn’t think I could do what I would have to get the job done. I was mad I couldn’t do what you did. But I can, Dwayne, and I will.”

  Dwayne lowered his eyes. Conthan understood that he wanted to find peace and go back to who he used to be. For the first time since becoming a Child of Nostradamus, Conthan discovered some truth to himself. He found comfort in this revelation, even if it wasn’t as clean cut as he once thought it should be.

  Conthan placed his hands on each side of Dwayne’s head and forced the man to see him eye to eye. It had been a trying day for Dwayne, but he hoped it was a momentary setback. Conthan wanted to slap him and tell him stop whining and own it. They weren’t normal, and they weren’t going to encounter normal situations; they’d have to check their moral compass more frequently than most.

  “You can do this,” Conthan whispered. He was close enough that even the quiet words sounded loud between the two of them.

  “But—”

  Conthan closed the distance between them. He leaned in and pushed against the lips of the older man. He was surprised by the smoothness of Dwayne’s skin, most likely a side effect of pumping electricity out of his body all day. The kiss lasted a few seconds, and his heart sank as the man didn’t return the gesture. He prepared to apologize as Dwayne pushed him away.

  Dwayne grabbed him by the shoulders and spun the two of the around, throwing Conthan against the wall. Conthan gasped, about to beg for forgiveness, but the bigger man pinned him to the corrugated steel and his lips pressed against his. Conthan ignored the spark between them as Dwayne bit his lip.

  Conthan grabbed the man’s head again, forcing their lips together tightly. Dwayne grabbed his arms by the wrists and pinned them to the wall. Conthan stopped fighting and gave into the man’s assertiveness. He had thought about it for months, and for the last couple of weeks he found himself imagining this very scenario. When they fled the subway, he realized what it would do to him if Dwayne didn’t survive.

  He bit down on the man’s lips and heard him gasp in response. All the nights he teleported to the church after scouring the streets for a fight, Dwayne waited to see his safe return. They had spent dozens of mornings watching the sun rise in silence. Conthan thought the man was atoning for his past, but it hadn’t dawned on him there might be something more admirable behind the check-ins.

  Dwayne pulled at the leather jacket, dragging it down enough to ensnare Conthan’s arms. His hands pushed Conthan’s shirt over his head, exposing his chest. Conthan took a moment, unsure of where the exchange was heading, but excited at the prospect. He let the jacket fall off and pulled the shirt the rest of the way, leaving him in a similar state as Dwayne.

  “You sure?” Dwayne asked.

  Conthan reached for the button on Dwayne’s pants. He let his hands hover for a moment, staring at the older man’s torso. Everybody had hinted at the potential of this exchange, but giving Conthan space to dwell on his own truths. He wanted it.

  “Oh yeah,” he said as he unsnapped Dwayne’s pants.

  ***

  Vanessa flipped the pages of the book, her fingers graz
ing the indentations from the sharp point pen used to scribe. She held so many questions for so long, and she often thought if she could only talk to Eleanor, it would all make sense. By either a freak encounter or the product of stress-induced hallucination, she met the woman and not a single question was asked, let alone answered. Now, she held the woman’s life in her hands and none of it seemed to matter.

  Her feet dug into the roof of the warehouse, the perch placing her high above the rest of the bay. Other than a massive crane near the water, she could see clear across the warehouse district. The smell of low tide mixed with whatever diseases floated along the tainted bay filled her nostrils. She had spent the last hour as close to the sky as she could muster. She hid from Dwayne, from her teammates, from the questions they asked and the answers she had yet to uncover. Emotions ran amuck. Anger. Sadness. Loss. She missed her other half and had no idea how to find him. Instead, she held Eleanor’s book, something to distract her from the gruesome reality that was her life.

  She turned the page, squinting at the handwritten text, forcing her eyes to adjust to the low light on the roof. With only the moon hanging in the sky, she could barely make out the woman’s ramblings. Her perfectly etched script reminded Vanessa of the thoughtful and elegant loops she had painstakingly written on each of her teammate’s letters. Despite her cryptic and less than pleasant messages, she took care with every letter she wrote. Her journal was no different, and it appeared she spent as much time scribing her thoughts as she did thinking them.

  “There is no way you left this for us to find with nothing inside.”

  Vanessa growled as she flipped another page. The woman detailed the most benign aspects of her life, she thought to herself. I wonder if this is the plight of a psychic, wondering if every moment of your life may have some outward ripple?

  She flipped another page.

  Then another.

  She moved to the end of the book and started to flip forward. It didn’t take long before she found a spot worth reading. She made note that in the journal of Eleanor’s life, it seemed her entries toward the end became fewer and further between.