Night Shadows (Children of Nostradamus Book 2)

by Jeremy Flagg

  “We’re good,” she said.

  “It’s smart,” Jasmine said. “It knows us.”

  “I know,” Vanessa said. “It’s Dav5d.”

  Jasmine didn’t need to see the woman to know the pain she must be feeling. She had a thousand questions, but she couldn’t ignore that the machine was faster than its predecessors. Its forearms shifted and small guns rolled out.

  “We’re invisible, not impervious.”

  Gretchen was right, at any moment a stray bullet could kill them. If there were more, this would get out of hand quickly. Jasmine broke free from the girl’s grip and the machine snapped to attention. The guns fired and she felt the biting sting of each bullet. Bullets dented her flesh, and if she let the synthetic focus its fire on one place too long, it’d tear through her metal hide.

  Alyssa brought down a piece of rebar on the machine’s neck. It spun around, catching the metal pole, and threw it to the side. She grabbed its arm and sidestepped, bringing it behind its back. She lifted hard, the gyros fighting to keep the limb from snapping.

  “The not-strong girl needs help,” Alyssa yelled.

  Small panels flipped open on the machines shoulders. Jasmine knew those compartments housed the synthetic’s lasers. It seemed they always resorted to lasers. They hurt, a lot.

  Skits.

  “Duck,” Jasmine yelled. Alyssa leaned forward, tucking herself into a ball. The flash of blue light shoved through the machine’s shoulder and the laser melted, half encased in its own metal. The synthetic tried to pull away, but Skits grabbed onto its arm with her other hand. The light flared again and the arm fell to the ground in a puddle of molten goo.

  Jasmine stood in amazement of the girl’s abilities. Skits’s shirt had caught on fire, the fabric evaporating from her arms as the air around her burned brighter. Alyssa scurried away from the droplets of metal. Even Gretchen and Vanessa appeared again.

  Skits pulled her hand out of the synthetic’s shoulder and grabbed the machine by the pelvis. She screamed, blue fire turning white as she dragged her hand up the torso. She pulled both hands back and kicked the machine to the ground.

  “Skits saves the day, bitches,” she yelled. The girl did a quick cheer. Modesty was not her super power.

  Jasmine stood over the machine as it tried to get up. It attempted to continue fighting. She wondered how long it would try before it finally admitted defeat. Vanessa reached down to the machine and rested her hand on its cheek.

  “Are you in there?” she whispered.

  Jasmine understood, she hoped to reach out to Dav5d through the machine. There were examples of powers mingling with unusual effects, but she had no idea how a telepath could read the mind of a machine. She wondered if Dav5d’s conscious was somehow wrapped up in the circuitry. It was starting to get a bit too science fiction even for her.

  As she was about to say something, Dwayne and Conthan worked their way through a bay door. Dwayne held an arm, certainly another synthetic they had dealt with. She turned about, looking at the darkest corners of the warehouse, waiting for another one of the machines to attack her.

  He’s in there.

  “He’s in there,” Vanessa said, echoing Jasmine’s thoughts.

  The expressions on her face went from hopeful to dismal. She caressed the machine’s cheek and stared at empty space. Dwayne caught Jasmine’s eye, glancing down at Vanessa, trying to get a clue what was going on.

  “It’s Dav5d,” she said.

  The warehouse vanished and they stood in a blinding white room. She knew they were in that weird space telepaths went to communicate with one another. Even here, Vanessa kneeled on the floor, cradling the machine, whispering softly to it.

  Off in the distance, a stasis tube could be seen, fainter than them, as if the atmosphere between them attempted to obscure the machinery. There was a man inside, and she knew without asking it contained Dav5d. A man in a finely tailored suit rested his hand on the glass of the tube and the moment he made contact, black tendrils of smoke appeared.

  His mind is gone. The Warden did this.

  They eyed one another, nervous glances, unsure of how to process the new bit of information. Conthan touched Vanessa, his hand resting on her shoulder, a firm grip offering solace. “The dreams were real.”

  As she looked to him, her eyes were bare, cold, and filled with hatred. Jasmine knew the look all too well, similar to the one that stared at her in the mirror. She knew the running was about to come to an end.

  “The Warden?” asked Dwayne.

  “He’s latched onto the head of a secret society, another mentalist.”

  “Shit,” Skits said.

  “It seems they have a connection to the President of the United States,” said Vanessa.

  Jasmine’s ears perked up at that. She started to wonder how it all fit. The president was connected to Eleanor from when they worked together. The Warden was put into place by the president. She couldn’t figure out how this secret society played a role.

  The white room vanished and they were standing in a circle in the abandoned warehouse. The sudden transition back to reality made her stomach queasy.

  “Jasmine is right,” Vanessa said, ignoring the fact nobody else had been able to read her mind. “Eleanor and the president are connected. The president and the Warden are connected.”

  “But what about the secret society?” Jasmine asked, taking a deep breath.

  “Eleanor was their leader for a while,” said Alyssa.

  “The book.” Jasmine started seeing the last year of their lives coming full circle.

  There was a collective gasp, except from Gretchen, who didn’t quite connect the dots. “Somebody mind clueing me in here?”

  Conthan was up to bat. “For the last year, everything we’ve done has been the manipulation of a dead psychic. Eleanor brought us together to stop something. We thought we had.” He eyed Vanessa. “But it seems it’s only getting worse.”

  “How does this involve Dav5d and the synthetics?” asked Dwayne.

  “Genesis Division,” whispered Jasmine. “They’re the society?”

  Vanessa nodded. “I fear so.”

  Jasmine clenched her fists. Genesis Division was the backer of the military, the people who helped supply the Corps with weapons. They were the ones who created the device still embedded in her neck. They were the ones who supplied the synthetics. Rage started to build in her chest. It’s time to end this, she thought.

  It is, Vanessa whispered back to her, her voice echoing the anger.

  “We’re going to the White House,” said Jasmine.

  “Gretchen, you need to stay back,” said Conthan.

  She shook her head. “This is a race war. I was a Nighthawk before you made it cool.” Her smirk gave away the devilish side of her nature. Jasmine liked the spunk in the girl. In one fight, she had already proven herself useful.

  “We’re glad you’re with us,” she said.

  “So what do we do?” asked Dwayne.

  “This is going to be a fight like we’ve never encountered before,” Vanessa started.

  Before she continued talking, she reached down to the machine still scraping along the floor. She whispered words quietly enough they couldn’t be made out. With a growl she pulled at the synthetic’s head, tearing it from the metal. She pressed her hands together, crushing the skull until the machine stopped moving.

  “Conthan, we need to make a stop along the way.”

  “Where to?” he asked.

  “The art gallery.”

  “Why there?” asked Jasmine.

  “It’s where this all started.”

  ***

  “You’re baiting them,” Dikeledi said in the chair across from him.

  They had boarded the company jet, bound to D.C. to meet with Cecilia. The jet was state of the art, and the trio sat comfortably in plush leather chairs opposite one another. Lily had started pacing the moment she could, her dislike for flying quite obvious. Dikeledi took a moment
to calm her, soothing Lily’s worries and relaxing the woman’s body.

  “Of course I am,” he said.

  “Always the risk taker. Both of you,” she added.

  He smiled. Lily accepted his additional abilities, the compounding of his telepathy along with the mysterious man haunting his dreams. She didn’t question the favors he promised to receive such awesome power. Dikeledi on the other hand, she understood the occupation of his body, the two people who were slowly merging into one.

  “We have a vacant seat on the board now. It’d be delightful if the Child of Nostradamus mentalist joined us. Between the four of us, there would be little we could not conquer.”

  “There will be unrest,” Lily said, the constant voice of reason.

  “The United States is at war, they will bow to anybody willing to provide them safety. Once we’ve taken the White House, we will set our sights to the General. Once we have squashed the military, then we consider our options.”

  “You won’t stop until you’ve conquered the world,” she said.

  “Why should we?”

  “If you get me killed,” she said, “I’ll be less than pleased.”

  “Lily, you’re always less than pleased.” Lily gave a slight roll of her eyes. He listened to her thoughts slipping out, and he knew without a doubt she was as excited as him. She would never let them know, but more than him or Dikeledi, she liked to fight. She itched for a confrontation. He knew deep down, she was getting exactly what she wanted.

  The jet was a luxury of their wealth. Normally several attendants rushed back and forth to make their trip as comfortable as possible. Now, a single woman stood at the end of the cabin near the bar, mixing a drink. With a thought, she turned around and walked toward him, holding out his drink along with a cocktail napkin.

  “Excellent,” he said with a sip. “Now be gone.”

  The woman turned around and walked to the back of the cabin and through a door to the staff area. He smiled, his lips stretching from ear to ear. He liked having the ability to force people into submission. Now, his charm paled in comparison to his telepathy; nobody would be able to resist his beck and call.

  The pilot came over the speaker. “We are preparing our descent into D.C. Please remain seated until further notice.”

  “I can smell your excitement,” Dikeledi said. “From both of you. This will be absolutely delectable.”

  Jacob admired the woman. Her ebony skin and high cheekbones were highlighted by her shaved head. Large golden earrings dangled, drawing attention to her face at all times. Now with the compounded abilities, he sensed just how wild of a person she was. He wondered how much of their excitement emanated from the aura she radiated, or how much of it was her reacting to their emotional state.

  He looked out the window to the lights of the city below. It would be his, one way or another; he had earned it. There only remained one person between him and victory. Thankfully, you underestimate yourself, and because of that, the world is mine, Madame President.

  ***

  Vanessa crossed her legs as she sat on the cold tiles. It wasn’t the most comfortable position for her wings, but it gave her the most contact with the floor without lying down. The lockers towered above her while the smell of mildew made her scrunch up her nose. There was something electric about knowing she was in a location occupied by Eleanor forty years prior.

  “What’s she doing?” Gretchen whispered.

  She didn’t need to see Conthan to know he raised a finger to his lips. They were accustomed to her unexplainable witchcraft. Their abilities followed a sense of logic, science, and obeyed the laws of the universe. Even Conthan, who could tear open gaps in reality, could read about his abilities in a textbook. She was not like them. She was like this before the stars aligned and a cosmic event caused the Nostradamus Effect. She didn’t have to obey the laws of the universe.

  Her childhood had been a curse, bombarded by the constant thoughts of others. It only worsened as the Nostradamus Effect washed over her, altering her body until she was nothing more than a reflection of a devil. The irony of being raised by nuns was not lost on her. Now, as she looked back to her childhood, she could only see herself with green skin and leathery wings. She wondered if the priest who had beaten her had seen the same thing.

  None of it mattered now. She had been an infant when Eleanor saved her life. She never knew what happened to her parents, just that a woman had stepped in and kept the government from taking her away from Sister Muriel. She had been raised ignorant of her savior, the same woman who died by security guards in the White House.

  The memories of her youth washed over her. The pains and hardships of knowing every thought of those around her. For Vanessa’s entire life she knew pain. The emotions brought a sniffle, and she understood it was pain that allowed her to embrace every moment of joy in her life. She held those memories close to her chest, embracing every building block of her existence. She knew she wouldn’t change her past for the world.

  She ran her hand over the book resting in her lap. The worn leather cover brought her back to the locker room. Around her stood six people, five of them her family and another willing to fight for a cause she hardly understood. They fought because of her, Eleanor. This battle wasn’t like the Facility, it wasn’t against a single man. This time, they were going against power they didn’t understand wielded by institutions hundreds of years old.

  She imagined her telepathy rolling out of her skin like smoke. It crawled along the ground, touching each surface in the locker room until she could chart every nook and cranny. With a gentle shove, she heard the thoughts of every person behind her. She pushed harder, looking for thoughts not belonging to her companions. She gripped the book, focusing on Eleanor, the woman with the pen, writing down her life for them to find.

  I cannot believe I finally did it.

  Vanessa heard the whisper. It sounded distant, as if breathed across a forest. She wasn’t sure if it was real or her hoping to find something. She gritted her teeth, reaching out, searching for the voice. Her powers pulsed, filling the room, causing the people behind her to stagger. She rested one of her hands on the floor and shoved the entirety of her thoughts through it, into her palm, and along the tile floor.

  “Holy shit,” gasped Skits.

  “A-ozu billahi mena shaitaan Arrajeem.”

  Vanessa felt the room breathe as if alive, the energy touching upon memories decades old. A woman stood naked at the locker in front of her. She toweled off, drying her skin after a shower. Despite the naked flesh only feet from her, Vanessa could only see the woman’s face.

  What do you mean, you did it?

  A man’s voice came from somewhere in the room. Vanessa couldn’t see him, but she could sense he was a strong man, a role model, somebody Eleanor cared for. She wondered if the man was her father, or perhaps a sibling?

  I changed the future.

  Vanessa understood why this occasion spoke loudest. There could be many times Eleanor walked through this room, but this was a moment charged so powerfully its ghosts spoke to her. She hoped she could speak to the woman like earlier, perhaps glean some insight for the battle to come. She hoped her soldiers would see the exchange and be inspired. But this, this was something altogether more eye opening.

  I can’t explain it, Frank. I saw something happen, and I changed it. It wasn’t like before, I was able to change the future. Do you know what this means?

  The man grumbled.

  If I can see the future, I can change it. I can make it better. I can save people.

  Vanessa strained, the pounding in her skull interrupt the image. She tried to push harder but realized there was no way she could continue resurrecting memories from a half century ago. With one last push, she knew they was only seconds from disappearing.

  What do you mean? Maybe God gave me the ability to see the future to change it. If I don’t do it, who will?

  Vanessa let out a breath she didn’t realize she was ho
lding. She clutched her chest, her heart thumping loud enough she feared the others could hear. She dragged herself up onto a bench near the lockers and stared at her companions. They stood in a line, their faces pale from witnessing long dead ghosts.

  “If we don’t do this, who will?” asked Conthan. She eyed the young man. There were moments such as these when she understood Eleanor’s plan. He was the embodiment of everything good they stood for, even if he didn’t know it. Each of them played a role, and with his single statement, she asked herself again, was this Eleanor’s plan all along?

  “Nighthawks?” Gretchen said.

  “Nighthawks,” Vanessa managed through clenched teeth.

  Chapter 25

  1993

  Mark leaned against the wall outside Penelope’s room, reading through the chart taken from her door. The medical wing of the research center was extensive. They had areas for wounded soldiers, rehabilitation, and even testing new technologies. This area fell behind thick doors requiring high security clearance. Penelope’s room had been selected for privacy.

  Since the day he awakened her, they started to adjust her meds to let her remain conscious for short periods of time. Most often Ariel or Arturo sat with her. Ivan noted by observing recordings of their interactions, it appeared Penelope was incapable of using her abilities on the others. Ivan had assumed there was some sort of natural resistance. Now, the two teens sat with her and told her stories. It was almost as if they were finding some normalcy in their lives.

  Mark took a deep breath as he rubbed his eyes. He tried to ignore the pulling pain at the base of his brain, an early sign of an oncoming migraine. He hadn’t slept a full night in almost three months and even now, he only took quick naps when his schedule allowed. He started living on coffee and Tylenol. Today was the first day in a week he didn’t have a list of meetings scheduled. It seemed the headache knew when to rear its ugly head.

  He jolted upright as a loud crash sounded across the hall. He slid the chart back into place and peered through the small window in the door leading to one of the labs. There was a quiet hush as he pressed his ear against the cold steel. He pulled at the door and poked his head inside the room.