The massive head spluttered, a terrifying display as the azure outlines buzzed and shifted. “The healer? ECHO has no healers able to function at the sub-cellular level, young lady. Not possible. Perhaps you are attributing the change to something else, given your limited exposure to—”
Ramona bristled at the condescending address and tone. Without stopping to consider protocol or politeness, she shook a metal-swathed finger at Tesla’s enormous nose. “First of all, getting my own custom subcutaneous armor ability didn’t take away my rank within the organization, so this ‘young lady’ nonsense can go the way of the dodo. It’s ‘Detective’ or ‘Ms. Ferrari’ if you’re going to pull that holier-than-thou bullshit with me. And second, you should stop presuming that you know everything about everyone in the organization, especially when it comes to Parker. If it wasn’t for her leadership and decisions, you’d probably be an app on Verd’s phone by now. So how about you offer the little earthlings a bit of respect?” She paused to breathe and dropped her hand to her side. “Sir.”
Marconi chuckled softly. “Amazing,” he repeated.
Tesla drew his lips together tightly; if he had had hands, Ramona imagined that he would have pinched the bridge of his massive nose. “Detective.”
“Thank you.”
“The ability to deliberately engage the meta factor is not one that has been observed within other metahumans since the manifestations triggered by the Thulians.” Tesla’s eyes darted to Marconi. The other head offered a barely perceptible nod as if to agree with the line of explanation. “The surge of metahumans in the last century can be attributed to interference by the Thulians, not by Metis. The Metisians have devoted much of their time to studying the effects of the meta-factor manifestation and, when agreed upon by the populace, supporting those metahumans willing to counter the Thulians with technology and innovation.”
Ramona couldn’t have heard the last few sentences correctly. She shook her head, convinced that the odd journey from rooftop to conversation hangar had messed up her listening skills. “I’m not following. It sounds like you’re saying that metahumans are a mistake caused by the Thulians screwing around with the human genome, and that they’re able to willfully turn that gene on and off.”
Marconi hummed, a base tone soon matched by overlaying harmonics. It made the exposed metal on her skin tingle. “Not a mistake, Signorina Ferrari. We have studied the Thulians for quite some time, and they engage in a purposeful sort of experimentation.”
Ramona’s mouth twisted in disgust. “Experimentation. I guess I should have expected that, given who they backed in the thirties and forties.” She turned away from the two wireframes, her hands in her hair as she stared out into the darkness of the cavernous room.
“Perhaps, but they have perfected the ability to engage the metahuman factor. But once the initial wave was over, we believe that the genie, as they say, was out of the bottle. They could not control who they awakened or the expression of the metahuman talents.” Tesla’s crisp words cut through the air, clinical and cold. “And yet, we continue to see metahumans thrive.”
Anger fought past confusion and Ramona shook while trying to control her voice. “So, what you’re saying is that Metis has known about the Thulians since before the Invasion. They have known about metahumans and how metahumans came to exist, and they have known that the Thulians were involved.” She ground her teeth together and pivoted on one heel. “And you’re treating this like a fucking terrarium with a couple billion crickets and a few hungry lizards.”
The two heads flinched at her use of language. Had Ramona not been so utterly enraged, she might have found the reaction funny. Instead, she saw an opening and moved in for the attack. “Has this all been some kind of joke, then? You both sit up here like a bunch of cranky assholes in the balcony of the theatre and just offer commentary while everyone else in Metis watches like it’s some kind of cutthroat reality show?”
Tesla opened his mouth, but Ramona rushed on. “You’d rather sit up here and watch your legacy go down the toilet because observation is good science? Really? Alex died because you wanted some more observations? Wow,” she offered with thick sarcasm. “And here I thought all of my friends and coworkers got buried under a couple hundred tons of concrete on the Echo campus because of some extraterrestrial threat. Now that I know it’s for Metisian science, I feel so much better.”
“Signorina Detective—”
“Shut up!” Her words did not ring in the dark, but both wireframes ceased in their mumbling protest.
Marconi and Tesla were not her enemies. Metis…wasn’t even her enemy. An adversary, at the moment, but not her enemy. Think, Ferrari. Think. There has to be something you can tell these two that will get the Metisians off their chairs and into the game. She couldn’t threaten them. Lecturing them wasn’t going to do any good. She needed to have a bargaining chip. There was nothing whatsoever that ECHO and the rest of the world could possibly offer to Metis that they didn’t already have.
And probably better, she thought sourly.
She tried to remember what Bella and Mercurye had told her. No…it wasn’t Bella. It had been Rick.
“They’re scared, actually. They’re afraid the Thulians will find them.” He’d laughed ruefully. “It’s hard to negotiate with people who are afraid to come out of their bomb shelter.”
Yes but…what if that bomb shelter might not shelter them anymore!
“So the Thulians can turn our powers on,” she said out loud, looking from Marconi to Tesla and back again. “What is Metis going to do if they turn them off again?”
The wire-frame mouths dropped open. It would have been funny if the situation hadn’t been so serious.
“If the Thulians did this to us in the first place, what’s to stop them from undoing it?” she persisted. “And then what? Us metas are the only thing standing between you and them. Without us, the Thulians roll right over the rest of the world, and it will be only a matter of time before they find you. You can’t hide forever. If they even suspect you exist, they’ll find you.”
The wire-frame eyes widened.
“After all, why should they care if they turn off their own metas?” She glared at them, hands on hips. “Ninety percent of what they threw at us wasn’t metas anyway, it was…oh hell, alien science, I guess. They’ll still have that. And what will we have? A few people with powered armor that they may, or may not, still be able to use, or even remember how to use, some incendiary shells and grenades…that’s about it. We’ll be toast, they’ll have the world, and you’ll be mice in a trap.”
The two looked at each other, and the expressions of astonishment turned to glee. Tesla vanished. Marconi turned his gaze back to her.
“I think, Detective, you have given us exactly the…ah…ammunition we need to approach the Convocation with. Tesla has gone to report this to the President. You will probably have to repeat your speech to him, and then to the Convocation as a whole, and it might take a little time, but—” his wire-frame lips stretched in a grin. “But I do not think this is something they will react to with…insouciance.”
“Good,” she said, and meant it.
“And while you are waiting…” A rectangle of white light opened in the wall behind him. “Please make yourself comfortable. Rick has been waiting a long time to finally see you again.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Found Penny
Mercedes Lackey and Dennis Lee
Penny hid in her bed. Lacey’s ghost was back, he was the first to materialize, long before the others, just after they finished up the supper food-pouches. She hoped he didn’t remember her, hoped, hard, that he didn’t remember she could see him. Because that was always when the ghosts latched on to her, when they understood she could see them.
While she hid, with her head under the flat pillow with just enough of a gap so she could watch him without him knowing, he just stood staring at Lacey. He seemed so ordinary…he wasn’t beaten up, or cut up, or dressed
in tattered rags. His hair was short, and as far as Penny could tell, given that he was pretty see-through, he was wearing dark pants and a dark t-shirt, with dark, high-top shoes, or maybe lace-up boots. Back in the World, she wouldn’t have looked twice at him.
But who knew what kind of craziness was behind those eyes? The fact that he hadn’t done anything yet didn’t mean anything.
Pike sat down on the side of her bed. He didn’t look where she was looking. “So,” he said, quietly, pitching his voice so only she could hear. “Lacey got a ghost too?”
“Uh huh,” Penny whispered, shivering. “It’s a guy. A young guy. He just stares at her.”
“Well that’s different, isn’t it?” Pike countered.
“Different’s just different,” she replied, trying to keep her teeth from chattering. “Don’t mean it’s good.”
And right then was when Creepy Man faded in, homed in on her, and started shambling towards her. Then Screaming Girl and Drunk Lady faded in, and headed straight for Penny too, led by Creepy Man. Screaming Girl started in moaning, working her way up to one of her howling rages.
And that was when Lacey’s Guy whirled, as if he had not realized they were there until that moment, and leveled that intense stare on them.
They were oblivious to it, and kept coming towards Penny’s bed. With a gasp of horror, she knew this was going to be one of the bad, bad nights, when all of the ghosts stood around her, screaming, babbling, saying terrible, terrible things. All of them trying to get her attention, all of them enraged.
She curled up in a tight, tight ball and started to sob under the pillow. And then the impossible happened.
Lacey’s Guy charged at the Creepy Man, fists swinging purposefully. Belatedly the Creepy Man noticed he was coming, but too late to do anything but stumble back a couple of shambling paces. Lacey’s Guy didn’t say a word, not even a sound, not even a grunt, but in moments, he had somehow pummeled the Creepy Man right out of the air, right out of everything. It was kind of like he beat the Creepy Man into dust.
And then, as Screaming Girl started to shriek, he turned on her.
Drunk Lady had at least enough sense left to figure out what was happening after Screaming Girl got chased around the room a couple times, got cornered, and then was pummeled into nothing the same as Creepy Man. She disappeared on her own.
Lacey’s Guy went back to stand over Lacey and stare at her, as Penny realized that about half way through that…performance…she had stopped shaking. But Pike sure noticed, and poked her shoulder. “What just happened?” he demanded, in a harsh whisper. “Something just happened, didn’t it?”
“The…new one. The one with Lacey,” she stammered, actually coming out from underneath the pillow a bit, like a turtle cautiously sticking its head out of its shell. “Creepy Man and Drunk Lady and Screaming Girl started coming over here, and he—he went after them. And he chased them and beat on them and now they’re gone!”
Pike stared at her, as if he couldn’t quite believe what she was saying. “They’re gone?” he repeated. “How?”
“I dunno, just gone, he like, beat them up and beat them into nothing.” Well, she didn’t quite believe it either. “And now he’s back to staring at Lacey.”
As if her talking about him alerted him again, he turned his head, abruptly, and stared at her. Stared at her so hard she felt as if she couldn’t move. Like his eyes were pins, sticking her in place.
“What’s he doing?” Pike asked, and poked her again when she didn’t answer. “What’s he doing?”
“He’s looking at me,” she squeaked.
Pike chewed on his lower lip, and then on a hangnail on his thumb for a while, as Lacey’s Guy continued that intense, intense stare, without moving. “Well?” he said, after a long, long moment. “What’s he doing?”
She gulped. Took a shuddering breath. “Still…staring,” she said.
“Not coming after you?” Pike asked, putting the hand with the chewed thumb on her shoulder.
She shook her head.
“Just staring?” Pike asked.
She nodded. And to her shock, Pike began to chuckle.
“Well,” her brother said. “Mebbe you got a boyfriend, then.”
Before she could reply, he got up and sauntered back to his bed, laid himself down, and went to sleep.
Penny stared through the semi-dark at the young man, who stared back, eyes burning, burning, burning across the air between them.
And then, when she was afraid she would cry or scream or…well, she didn’t know what but the tension had almost become unbearable…he turned his head and went back to staring at Lacey.
Slowly, she put her head down on the pillow. She tried to keep her eyes open, tried to watch him, but for once, she was just too tired. Her eyes dropped shut, and for the first time since she had arrived in this terrible place, she slept the rest of the night through.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Next To Normal
Dennis Lee, Cody Martin, Veronica Giguere, Mercedes Lackey
Tuesday evenings at Normality had become the preferred time for the ECHO regulars to relax and unwind. Fridays had their own sense of celebration, but Tuesdays brought a subdued crowd that was happy to cluster around tables with a few beers. Those who wanted more than that had to sit at the bar, and Mel kept that conversation going.
She enjoyed the back and forth, whiskey and scotch lubricating their words and bringing out their honest assessments of the current state of things. They hadn’t seen the huge flying spheres and metal-suited Kriegers for a few weeks, but none of the regulars seemed complacent. Waiting usually meant there was something bigger, something scarier, on the horizon.
“And if it’s not the Kriegers coming down Peachtree, it’s Verdigris.” Bella tossed back a shot of Glenlivet and turned her glass upside-down on the polished bartop. Next to her, Bulwark nursed his beer and nodded in agreement. “We can’t count him out, especially with his personal assassin doing his dirty work.”
“Think she’s sleeping with him? Verd and his Girl Friday, I mean.” Mel popped open two amber bottles and set one each in front of John Murdock and Red Djinni. Both men nodded their thanks, but her smile lingered on the Djinni for a little while longer. He wore his standard Clooney impersonation tonight, and he finally returned her smile with a smirk. She struck an impish pose, resting a hand lightly on her hip. “What? You don’t think she would?”
“Couldn’t tell you,” Red shrugged. “Never met her, wouldn’t want to, and I wouldn’t presume to know her type. Maybe she likes crazy with a combover. Then again, he’s probably too busy for romance. I’d bet on a pair of full-service mannequins.”
“He steal your plans?” John asked dryly. He had become a fixture at Normality, just as much for the beer as for the company. Mel found him interesting, but he seemed too much of a soldier, and she had had her fill of those in her experiences. Next to him, Bella snorted and smothered a laugh with her hand. “Ya gotta stop puttin’ those on the Internet.”
“Nah, metal and polymers give me a rash. Besides, you’re thinking of Pavel,” Red answered.
“Oh geez,” Bella choked out. “Don’t give him ideas. If Natalya found out…”
As if on cue, the door to the bar flew open and a Commissar-shaped silhouette filled the entry. Mel watched the theatrics of Red Saviour as she went from table to table, rounding up her charges and pushing them out the door. The severe Russian advanced on a group of college students surrounding Pavel, her fists suffused with a bright blue plasma. Squeals and shrieks erupted from the table before the co-eds streamed out the door. Pavel stumbled after them with the Commissar on his heels, while Unter was left to pay the tab. He offered John an efficient nod in parting.
“Last call, comrade?” John indicated the empty seat between him and the Djinni. “One more for the night?”
Unter sniffed. “Last call went out the door. Another time, perhaps.” He gave the same severe nod to Bella and Bulwark before leaving.
A small puff of dust erupted on the bartop. The little earth elemental hugged a small paper cup to his chest and he shook it back and forth in front of Mel. “Last call for you, too.” She reached under the counter for the bottle that she kept separate for Vickie and Herb’s custom delivery service. She poured two fingers’ worth of the Ardbeg single-malt and cracked a smile in Bulwark’s direction. “Djinni’s got her clocking a good ten, fifteen seconds ahead of me on the parkour course. I gotta get some sleep before tomorrow’s run or Victrix is gonna kick my ass.”
Bull gave her one of his rare, wry smiles. “She’s holding back, y’know,” he said. “Doesn’t want you to feel bad about the fact she might actually lap you now.”
“I should have known,” Mel laughed. “But if that were true, why doesn’t she just let me overtake her?”
“It’s still Victrix,” the Djinni chuckled. “The lady plays to win.”
“I can heeeeeeaaar yooooooou,” Vickie’s voice came over the bar’s sound system. “And see you too.” There was a laugh that sounded maybe just a touch tipsy. “I am the fly on the wall! C’mon home, Herb. That stuff’s not going to drink itself!”
Herb gave them all a quick salute and disappeared with the paper cup. The others soon followed. John set his glass down on the bar with a flourish, rose and waved his good-byes. Bella and Bulwark started to do the same, although the Djinni didn’t give any indication that he was leaving. Mel didn’t mind, but Bulwark glared down the bar in Red’s direction and she caught the frown. Bella did, too, and she started to say something, but Mel interrupted.
“I’m a big girl, y’all. I’ve dealt with bigger and meaner in my day. I’m strong enough to haul his sorry carcass out to the alley if he passes out,” she laughed.
“When,” Bella corrected.
Collision: Book Four in the Secret World Chronicle - eARC Page 28
