Phantom Legacy: The Phantom Chronicles, Book 3

by T. C. Edge

  “So, we have to find Mikel again,” he huffed, shaking his head and laughing. “We’re like a broken record here.”

  “But it’s good news, right?” asked Chloe. “I thought you wanted to find Mikel?”

  “Yeah, in order to kill him, not hand him over to the CID,” retorted Tanner with a snort.

  “Well, to be fair, that’s Ragan’s loss more than yours, Cliff,” said Nadia. “Let’s not forget who has most cause to hate the vamp.”

  Tanner shrugged.

  “Sure, and I feel bad for him. But anyway, that’s missing the point. We’re talking about going to a war zone here, to find a ghost. Mikel probably isn’t there anymore, and if he is, he’ll be hard to track down.”

  “Sure, hard, but not impossible,” said Ragan, glancing over to Chloe. But, more specifically, Remus. “You reckon he can find him?” he asked her, referring to the drone.

  “If he’s in the area, maybe,” Chloe said. “Remus has had plenty of time to gather data on Mikel by now. He’ll be able to spot him if he’s around.”

  “But he didn’t spot him when we were in Devil’s Pike,” countered Tanner. “He came out of nowhere over there. Remus’ scans didn’t bring up anything.”

  “True,” said Chloe, “but Remus hadn’t properly encountered Mikel by that point. The more time he spends analysing someone - their gait, their scent, their body shape, and so on - the more easily his sensors will pick up on them when he scans for them again. Hell, he’ll know all of you like the back of his hand - or wing, I guess,” she smirked, “- by now.”

  “You’re just full of surprises, little guy,” smiled Nadia, reaching out a hand for Remus to flit onto. She giggled as he landed, turning almost girlish. Remus seemed to have that effect on her.

  Ragan looked over to Tanner.

  “Good enough for you?” he asked.

  Tanner shrugged.

  “Sure. I’m not going to pretend I understand how he works, but sure, I’ll go along with it. We could do with a general area to start, though,” he finished, looking at the map.

  Ragan pointed to a section in the southeast.

  “Dax mentioned a last known location around here. He’ll keep an eye out, update us en route. We’ll start there if we hear nothing else.”

  “And…if we run into soldiers?” asked Tanner. “It’s not going to be easy just creeping around in there, you realise. There might be thousands of soldiers there for all we know.”

  “Yep, but Mikel won’t be creeping around in the thick of it either. You know what vamps are like. They keep to the edges, pick off the weak when they’re alone or undefended.”

  “Right, and you’re going to trust this Wexley guy?” queried Tanner, frowning skeptically. “We go there, and they just take us all out. I mean, did he really believe what you told him? You didn’t mention anything about wanting to destroy the data?”

  “No,” said Ragan firmly. “And I didn’t say anything about you two either,” he added, looking to Tanner and then Nadia, who continued to be distracted by Remus. “I convinced him, at least to a degree, that I did what I did for Chloe only.”

  Tanner raised a brow.

  “He bought that?” He sounded incredulous. Understandably.

  “To a degree, I said,” repeated Ragan. “Enough to get our foot in the door. If we get Mikel, then maybe he’ll be willing to listen. But there’s no way any of you are getting involved in this…”

  “What?” asked Chloe. “What does that mean? We’re going together, right? To catch Mikel.” She looked to the others for support. Tanner nodded firmly. Nadia looked away from Remus, the drone fluttering off, and did the same.

  “We’ll catch Mikel together,” said Ragan. “But that’s the extent of it. I’ll have to return to New York with him alone. None of you can come with me.”

  “Now hang on a minute…”

  “Chloe,” said Ragan sternly, shutting her off. “This is the only way. Cliff and Nadia are from different nations, and the CID don’t know anything about them. We have to keep it that way. I have to convince them that I’m still willing to be loyal. I can’t do that if I turn up with a bunch of rogue operatives. It’ll raise too many questions.”

  “Yeah, and me?” asked Chloe, frown dropping, arms folding.

  Ragan smiled at her softly.

  “I got you out of there once before. I’m not going to just bring you right back. Stay with Cliff and Nadia. I’ll go and smooth things over, and then come and join you again once I’m done.” He leaned towards her, seeming suddenly embarrassed by the attention of the others. “I’m not leaving you, Chloe,” he whispered, his words for her alone. “This is just how it has to happen.”

  Nadia moved over to Chloe’s side, drawing her eye.

  “He’s right, honey,” she said consolingly. “We’re just gonna muddy things up if we go too. It’s best this way.”

  Chloe grumbled, but nodded reluctantly, hating the idea. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. Perhaps she was naive to think anything else. To think that Wexley would just believe Ragan and then agree to help. It wasn’t ever going to be that damn easy. Nothing ever was.

  “OK, well we’ve got all that settled then,” said Ragan, voice perking up. “The jet’s well charged and ready to go. Let’s go hunt some nano-vamp, I guess,” he finished with a casual shrug.

  The group glanced around at one another.

  “Hell yeah,” said Tanner, grinning.

  He moved from the briefing table, and headed off for the cockpit. Ragan spared a look at Chloe, before following.

  Her eyes then followed him, a sigh falling from her lips, loud enough to seek attention. It found it in the form of Nadia, still beside her, following her eyes as they followed Ragan.

  “He’ll be fine,” Nadia said with a breathy whisper. “Don’t worry about him.”

  Chloe turned to face her southern, brown-eyed friend as Ragan disappeared down the passage.

  “This is non-stop,” she murmured. “When’s it going to end?”

  Nadia draped an affable arm over Chloe’s shoulder, and began leading her towards her seat.

  “Who can say,” she said, warmly. “Soon, I hope. Sometimes missions just go like this, you know.” Chloe raised an eye. “I’ll admit, this one’s pretty…”

  “Hectic,” said Chloe. “Not that I’ve got any experience of this stuff.”

  “Nothing like a good old baptism of fire,” grinned Nadia. “To your credit, honey, you’re handling it like a star.”

  They reached their seats, and sat down, strapping themselves into their harnesses. The jet began to rumble and rise, drifting up into the cloudy skies.

  “Anyway, we’re onto the final stretch,” said Nadia. “Soon as we convince the CID of what’s been going on, they’ll take the reins. I’d say we’ve done enough.”

  Nadia sat back, taking in a long breath as the falcon continued its ascent. The engines began to rumble louder, set to shoot the jet skyward. Chloe hardly even noticed the change in motion.

  Done enough, she thought, pondering Nadia’s words. Somehow she got the feeling that there was plenty more to come.

  20

  Mikel basked in the shade of a rundown building, the sunshine outside so very unpleasant to his sensibilities.

  A general blur of noise echoed from the distance, the central streets of this haunted old city chattering with gunfire and occasional explosions. Here, way back towards the southeastern suburbs, there were few soldiers in sight. Through the shattered windows of this derelict apartment block, he might occasionally see a unit or two pass by a little way off. But none ventured close enough to be of concern.

  The city wasn’t huge, not by the standards of the place he’d been created. LA was an endless network of concrete canyons; sprawling and grand in its architectural arrogance. New York, though Mikel had never really been, was a staggering metropolis too. More compact, but similarly lofty in vertical scale. Then there were others, many others in fact, that put this place
to shame. Cincinnati had never been a particularly large city, but was certainly big enough to provide plenty of places to hide.

  Mikel wasn’t, however, hiding. At least, that wasn’t how he saw it. He was relaxing only, taking a break, enjoying the soundtrack of war in the distance. It was to him a symphony, mellifluous and smooth to his ears. The booms of bombs and laughter of gunfire was something he enjoyed. They signified chaos and death, wild elements of the world that Mikel so identified with. Brutal, yet beautiful too. If humans did anything well, he thought, it was war.

  He drew a breath, sweet nanites in the air. Their scent didn’t rip at his guts any longer, make him so manic, so ravenous and wild. No, Mikel had had a taste now, a feeding sufficient to quell his hunger. A foolish Panther, slipping away from his unit during a break, had fallen into his trap. Mikel only needed moments to suck, to drain such a man of his blood. He lay in wait, and took the man like a trapdoor spider, feeding and dematerialising before his allies took note.

  It was so joyous, so wonderfully pure, to perform the very intention of ones creation. Though Mikel felt a profound distaste for those who’d made him, he couldn’t deny the programming they’d set within him. Those engineered instincts of his made a day like this a delight. Feeding, hiding, stalking. Relaxing in this crumbling old building with the concert of war to sweeten the air.

  It was a good day, Mikel thought. A good day to call his last…in this form at least.

  He stood from his perch - an old torn up sofa by the rotten wall of this decrepit living room - and crept towards the window. The sunlight was still steaming in through the cracked and dirty glass, though largely blotted now by an incoming sweep of cloud. The dust and smoke kicked up by the warring factions in the distance didn’t help much either, causing a general film of dust and grit to hover about in the air.

  Mike sniffed, long and deep, searching ahead. His ears pricked up, listening for movement, for the sound of footfall, of creeping feet. He heard nothing to cause concern, nor did he see any soldiers nearby. The general scent of nanites remained, though still weak and far away.

  He smiled and withdrew once more, moving back to the sofa and sitting down. He could do with another Panther or two before venturing off and awaiting further word from Martha Mitchell. She’d been helpful so far, calling not long ago to find out where Mikel was, and whether he’d satisfied his urges quite yet. It seemed she was quite intent in following through with her promise to him, her earnestness overcoming Mikel’s natural skepticism.

  Still, there seemed no rush for him to leave quite yet. These sorts of places were heaven to him, so packed to the brim with luscious sounds and smells, so filled with possible prey.

  He’d already stalked through a large part of the eastern extremity of the city, getting his bearings, working out just where the Panthers were. There were more than he’d thought, several dozen at least, split between their separate units. One such unit had even begun hunting him down, stirred into action after he’d feasted on their brother. They’d had no success, of course. Most Panthers were children to Mikel, no match for him at all. He could appear and disappear at will in a place like this.

  Now, he’d chosen this nice quiet spot to watch from afar, relishing in the fear that was likely working through the Panther ranks. He wondered if they’d know it was him, specifically. Any rogue nano-vamp, coming to a place like this, would quickly cause a stir amid the nano-enhanced. That would make them nervous, and nerves suited him fine. It often caused erratic behaviours that he could take advantage of.

  He yawned, shutting his eyes, letting the song of war send him off into daydreams and soothing reveries. Those were of blood, of fear, of death. A man like Mikel didn’t dream as others did. What someone might call a nightmare, he’d consider a sweet fantasy. Here, in a city torn apart by death, a microcosm of this forsaken continent, was where Mikel was just about happiest.

  That, strangely, was of some concern to him. Yes, his hunger often grew torturous, an affliction of pain and suffering, of endless desire. It was a hunger he wanted to escape forever at times, but one that also gave him such pleasure when satisfied. Right now, at this particular moment, a sense of bliss had overcome him. He’d fed, enough to quell his suffering temporarily, though wanted more to fully fill the void. When that happened, he’d be in a state of true contentment and satisfaction. In such a state, would he desire change? Would he really want to take another form?

  He, like all his kind, existed along a spectrum. At one end, intense hunger. At the other, complete and total satisfaction. A nano-vamp was always somewhere along that sliding scale, ever fearing the decline towards that desperate thirst, but always anticipating the next feeding and the wondrous euphoria it brought. As much as he hated that aching craving and need, he so adored the hunt, the kill, and the slaking and sense of relief that followed.

  Losing this form of his would be losing both sides; the hunger, and the joy, the acute pain, and the intense pleasure. He imagined that no one but a nano-vamp truly understood that. They never hit the same lows, nor did they rise to the same highs. Only addicts could understand, perhaps, to some degree or another. Those reliant on alcohol, or drugs, or other forms of vice. They knew, perhaps, how Mikel’s existence might feel. Yet though their addictions could be handled and treated, Mikel’s could not. He was destined to this life until the time of his death. Unless, of course, he took action to change it.

  And change it he must, he knew.

  This was his plan since he’d learned of Professor Phantom’s research, and the wonderful potential it held. And oh, goodness, what potential that was. The joys to come, Mikel was sure, would rival that of a good feeding. He could become something truly special, and that was all the motivation he needed.

  He stood once more, and drifted back to the window. A bout of louder fighting had begun to chatter in the city’s central districts. He gazed through the broken glass, idly scanning, and saw a billowing cloud of smoke pour up from the earth as a building crumbled, some way off.

  He smiled at the sight. Death did that to him. Humans would ogle a newborn baby, and be unable to stop from grinning. They’d cherish the new life, the innocent life, yet to be corrupted by this world they’d built. But not Mikel. No, he looked at death as they did at life. An end to a pitiful existence, to one of suffering. It was freedom, he saw it, from the constraints of this dreadful place. Death was something to celebrate, not mourn. It was birth, he thought, that should be cause for grieving.

  Yes, death was his life. Time now, perhaps, to indulge a little more.

  He moved towards the door, hanging loose on rusted hinges, and began moving out into the hall. Down the corridor he went, and towards another door giving access to the street. He stopped, performing his usual routine - checking for soldiers, drones, any armoured vehicles that might be coming this way - and then moved into the dull light.

  Above, the sky was now gathering with a blockage of grey cloud, dark enough to suggest rain was near. It suited him well. The sun wasn’t his ally as darkness was, the murk and gloom complementing his methods of hunting and hiding, of remaining unseen. This growing swamp of cloud was agreeable, useful. It would make the hunt that little bit easier.

  He sniffed at the air again, his powerful nasal senses allowing him to siphon quickly through the various odours in the air. Naturally, nanites were particularly powerful, scented a fair way off. He drew in the sweetness of those circling through the Panthers’ blood, and turned his eyes to the source.

  Close, he thought. Closer than before. And…curious.

  The smell was coming from north of his position, right in the direction of the NDSA military’s main staging area. They’d set up temporary camp in the central eastern suburbs, their commanders running the battle from there. Mikel hadn’t gotten too close to the place, of course, but from the nearest vantage he could manage, he discerned a fairly busy war camp. There were plenty of mobile barracks, armoured vehicles, and soldiers milling about. It seemed that
Cincinnati was an important strategic location in this ongoing war, most likely due to geographical position that anything else. What drove these men, Mikel didn’t rightly care. He just followed the smell of war, like a shark sniffing a shoal of fish.

  The war camp remained some way off from his current position, too far away for him to confirm just where the nearest Panther unit was. Most likely, they’d be gathered within the camp, which would make hunting them impossible. In that case, he’d have to make a choice - either seek out another unit, one currently engaged in conflict somewhere closer to the city centre, or merely forget his desire to feed and leave. The latter would usually be unthinkable, but not today. Today, he’d fed, so was feeling satisfied enough. But more than that, he had rather more important things to consider.

  He continued on, creeping through the shadows, using his superior speed as he went. His senses were heightened in an environment like this, eyes, ears and particularly nose working at full capacity. With each dart forward, he’d swiftly scan ahead, searching for movement. His ears would filter through the distant rumble of war, and seek sounds within a certain proximity. They could spot footfall, even the lightest, within a particular range. Voices, too, were simple for him to discern, anything but the quietest of whispers easy enough to pick up and identify.

  Yet it was his sense of smell that was most effective. With each breath, he’d draw in all available scents, his brain quick to discard those that were of no importance. Right now, attuned as he was, he followed the trail of nanites in the air, the odour growing more powerful as he advanced. He slinked closer to the war camp, the central command centre still over a kilometre away, drawn by the Panthers who, he began to confirm, must be taking refuge there for now.

  He stopped.

  There was something else in the air now. Something different. He crept into the darkness of a tight side-street between buildings, hunkering down into the shadows. With his black suit hiding him, he closed up like a bat, and stayed completely still, drawing in a stream of air into his lungs.