Myths & Magic: A Science Fiction and Fantasy Collection

by Kerry Adrienne

The nervous rustle of movement and whispered conversations convinced Sofia that the men of the Rue Marcha, at least, took the threat seriously.

  The man’s voice hardened. “Put down your guns or I test Cardorin’s effectiveness right here, right now.”

  “Don’t make this difficult,” Kyle warned. “You can keep the cooler. Just let the girl go.”

  The leader of the Rue Marcha smirked. He jerked his head.

  Two cartel members threw themselves at Kyle. He stumbled sideways, knocking Sofia face-first to the ground as he tussled with them. He pulled off two quick, precise shots. They collapsed, bleeding, but others jumped in to take their place.

  Sofia reached out with her mind. Her telekinetic powers brushed against the side of the test tube, but the man’s grip was tighter. She tugged. His eyes widened, but he did not let go. Instead, he stepped forward and swung the metal cooler at her.

  Sofia brought her arms up to protect her face, but the cooler smashed into the side of her head. She screamed and coiled into a fetal ball.

  “Sofia!” Kyle’s shout blended into the blur of noises around her.

  She raised her head in time to see a booted foot aimed straight for her face.

  “No!” Kyle screamed as the steel toe of Luis’s boot connected with Sofia’s vulnerable flesh.

  She slumped, unconscious, to the concrete floor.

  Luis’s chuckle, low and mocking, echoed through Kyle’s head, fueling the fury that rushed through him.

  The next few moments blurred into a flurry of fists and kicks. Outnumbered, Kyle fought until he too was beaten to the floor and his world plunged into darkness.

  Chapter 16

  “Kyle? Kyle, are you here? Anybody?”

  Sofia’s panicked voice dragged him back to consciousness. He forced his eyes open and blinked as the world wavered into focus. He looked around, uncomprehending, at the translucent walls that surrounded him. A layer of thick plastic lay over the cement of the warehouse floor. Hell, he was enclosed in the tent—an isolation chamber.

  And so was Sofia.

  The wooden back of the chair pressed against his spine as he rattled the handcuffs at his wrists. Sofia was seated in a chair across from him, her wrists cuffed behind her as well. Surprisingly, her eyes were blindfolded.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. In that moment, he noticed the bruises on her cheekbone and the dried blood on her lips. Stupid question, he cursed himself. By tomorrow, the bruises would be a gory purple, assuming Sofia survived that long.

  Armed men moved around outside the isolation chamber, their voices muffled into indistinct mumbles.

  “What happened?” Kyle demanded.

  “I don’t know. I just woke up myself,” Sofia said.

  “Can you pick the lock on the handcuffs?”

  “I can’t see! I need to see the lock to pick it.”

  Damn it.

  Sofia swallowed hard. “Where are we?”

  “An isolation chamber,” he said. “A tent frequently used to contain hazardous airborne materials.”

  Her voice quavered. “Like a chemical agent?”

  Kyle ground his teeth. “How do you feel?”

  “Like I was hit and kicked in the face, which I was.”

  “Any breathing trouble? And your heart?”

  “Racing so hard I can feel it pounding in my chest, but it’s been doing that since I met you and you dragged me into this hell.”

  “I dragged you?” The snap of anger covered the rush of guilt. “I told you to turn the microchip over to Zara.”

  “No, you stood beside me when she asked for it and I refused to give it to her,” she reminded him. “You’ve been standing with me all the time, through every stupid and dangerous decision I made, until—” Her voice trembled and she turned her face away.

  The blindfold around Sofia’s eyes dampened. Kyle had to clench his teeth against the ache in his gut. “I wasn’t prepared. You could have eased me into it more gently.”

  “There wasn’t time! Don’t you think that if I could have kept it from you forever, I would have? I know you hate mutants. You say it at least once a day. You treat Danyael like he’s a piece of shit when he’s done nothing except try to help us.”

  “You weren’t there. I saw him use his mutant powers. He tore the truth out of drug cartel members in less than a minute.”

  Sofia scowled. “This isn’t about Danyael. It’s about you and your insistence on painting all mutants, regardless of what they can do and who they are, with the same damned paintbrush! We’re not alike. We’re all individuals, and we’re all human.”

  “You’re derivatives.”

  Sofia stamped her small foot. If she had not been blindfolded, he imagined he would have seen her eyes flash. “Derivatives is a definition coined by natural humans to make themselves feel superior to in-vitros. You’re better than that, Kyle. You’ve got so much going for you. You don’t have to push someone down to—”

  The pain kicked in, sharper and more vicious than it had ever felt. “You know nothing about me! I was too stupid to keep. When my parents realized that I would always struggle to read and would never do well at school, they gave me up to the foster system and got their designer child instead. My younger brother—the in-vitro—was everything they wanted. He’s the CEO of Tyce Financial Systems. He makes millions a year.”

  “But the CEO of Tyce Financials Systems isn’t a Norwood. It’s Robert Tyce.”

  “My brother.” Kyle tasted bitterness on his tongue. “I was born Kyle Tyce.”

  “Oh…”

  He drew in a shuddering breath. “I changed my name to Norwood when I was adopted out of the foster system at the age of seventeen. My new mother—Cherise Norwood—sat down with me each day and taught me until I passed the GED at the age of twenty. I struggled through college, and after I graduated, I signed up for the military. It’s not as if I had anywhere else to go.”

  Sofia’s whisper was scarcely louder than a sigh. “I’m so sorry, Kyle. Cherise is a wonderful person.”

  “She died three years ago. Her pancreatic cancer spread to every other organ in her body.” And I couldn’t do a damn thing to help her. I was in such a panic, I couldn’t read, never mind understand, the documents the doctors gave me. Couldn’t research alternatives because the words kept jumbling up on me. “The doctors experimented on her, and I couldn’t help her. I didn’t know how.”

  “And that’s why you hate doctors,” Sofia murmured.

  “I hate doctors, but I blame myself,” Kyle said. “If I could read, if I were normal—”

  “Of course you’re not normal,” she cut in. “No one really is. You’re definitely not.”

  He stared at her, aghast, but she continued as if she had not noticed, which, considering her blindfold, she probably had not. Her voice was mild, but edged with steel. “You handle a gun like it’s an extension of your body; you seem completely inured to violence, yet you’ve always treated me with gentleness. You’re a mercenary, you’re practical, you’re in it for the money, yet you supported me the entire way even though there’s nothing in it for you. You’re not in the least bit normal, Kyle, and I’m glad.”

  He closed his eyes. Her words sank into him, a balm against his aching heart. “How did you get to be so smart? You had good parents, didn’t you?”

  She nodded. “Yeah.” Her voice was wistful.

  “And they loved you, even though you were a telekinetic.”

  Sofia scowled. “Yes, they did. And you need to stop treating mutants like we’re sick, or worse, infectious.”

  The harsh sound of metal grating against metal cut off their conversation. Kyle looked up as the zipper that held the door flap closed was tugged open.

  Luis Sanchez strode in wearing his familiar smirk. “Glad you’re both conscious. Wouldn’t be much of an experiment if we couldn’t record what was happening.”

  Sofia turned her face in his direction. “What are you going to do?”

  He looked up a
t the one-way vent in the roof of the tent. “Pump Cardorin into the tent and see what happens.”

  Sofia paled.

  Kyle yanked at the handcuffs but only succeeded in slicing the edges against his already raw flesh. “You can’t do that. She’ll die.”

  “That’s precisely the point. She’s of South American origin. You’re not. If Professor Reynard’s theory is correct, she’ll die and you won’t. I’m not sure how long it’ll take, but that’s part of the experiment, too.” He stepped back out and pulled up the zip.

  “Kyle?” Sofia called out, her voice trembling.

  “I’m right here. You have to get me out of these handcuffs.”

  “But I can’t see.”

  “You don’t need to see. Your telekinetic powers are like an extra hand, aren’t they? Trust your psychic touch. Follow my voice. I’ll tell you when I start feeling your touch.”

  He felt it first as a light tap against his boot, and then a faint brush against the hem of his denim jeans. “You found me, Sofia. Now just keep going up. I’ll tell you when you reach my knee.”

  “Okay.”

  Invisible fingers crawled up his leg. The barely perceptible sensation was tantalizing, hovering on the edge of awareness. If he closed his eyes, he could better focus on it, but a hiss of air drew his attention to the vent. Nothing except the sound alerted him to the fact that the chemical agent was filling the isolation tent. Colorless, odorless, Cardorin was designed to be the perfect killer.

  “Kyle…” Sofia’s voice was edged with panic.

  “Keep going, baby. You’re doing great. You’re at my knee. Move forward instead of up.”

  “I don’t know how long I can hold my breath.”

  Damn. “Don’t worry about it. Just focus on my voice.”

  He could tell she was trying, but her psychic touch faltered. Her breathing grew labored, its rhythm unsteady.

  “Come on now, babe,” he crooned. “Stay with me. Keep going. You’re almost there. Curve around my back.”

  “Kyle, I—” Her lips were turning purple.

  “That’s it, babe. I can feel you touching the handcuffs. Feel your way around to the lock. You can do it. Get me out of this and I’ll get us both out of here.”

  She slumped forward. Her touch faded.

  He yanked at the handcuffs. They still held. “Sofia!”

  “I’m trying—” Her whisper was barely audible. “Kyle?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry I got mad at you.”

  He ground his teeth against the searing ache in his chest. Thanks, Sofia. Now I feel like a jerk and complete asshole.

  The cuffs clicked.

  His handcuffs dropped to the floor with a sharp rattle, He dashed over to Sofia. His hands were frantic as he swept her into his arms and threw her over his shoulder. Her body shuddered once and then went limp. She was still alive—he could feel the faint movement of her chest—but her breath was erratic. “I’ll get you out of here,” he swore.

  He yanked on the zipper of the door flap. A sharp jerk tore a vertical opening in the plastic wall of the isolation tent. On the other side of the tent, men carrying assault weapons ran away, screaming in panic for el jefe.

  Damn. He had just released Cardorin into a warehouse filled with people of South American origin.

  And Sofia was dying.

  Her weight was so slight she might have weighed nothing at all. His grip tightened on her small, fragile body, and he pushed to a sprint.

  No one made any move to stop him as he ran out of the warehouse. He slammed the door shut behind him. Would the warehouse contain the gas? He prayed it would.

  His car was waiting where he had parked it, two blocks away. He set Sofia gently in the front passenger seat. Her skin was clammy and beaded with sweat, but she was still breathing shallowly. He climbed into the driver’s seat and pulled away from the curb before reaching past Sofia to grab his cell phone from the glove compartment. He hit the first number on speed dial.

  Zara picked up on the second ring. “What is it now?”

  “Luis released Cardorin into the warehouse. Sofia’s dying.”

  “And the gas in the warehouse?”

  “Closed the door on my way out. Don’t know if it’ll contain the gas.” And he wasn’t sure he gave a damn. “Sofia needs help. Now.”

  “I’ll pick Danyael up from his clinic. We’ll meet you at Sofia’s town house.” She hung up on him.

  He stared at his phone. 10:30 p.m.

  The drive across town seemed to take forever. Every few seconds, he threw a quick glance at Sofia, waiting, riding each moment on the edge of agony, until he heard her next faltering breath. Helplessness clawed at him. Why couldn’t he do more for her?

  Kyle pulled into the driveway behind her town house. Zara had not yet arrived. Where the hell was she? How much longer could Sofia hold out?

  He carried Sofia into the house. After flicking on the lights, he pounded up the stairs to her bedroom and laid her on the bed. Within seconds, he got her handcuffs off. He took her hand in his and searched desperately for a pulse. “Hang on, please. Just a few more minutes—”

  Kyle glanced around sharply at the faint sound of the front door swinging open. Zara’s voice called out. “Kyle?”

  “Up here!” His grip tightened around Sofia’s limp hand. He tried to warm her, tried to will life into her, but nothing drove the increasingly cold and clammy sensation away.

  A tiny sigh eased past her discolored lips. Her body sank into the bed as her final breath escaped.

  Kyle shot to his feet. “No!” He pulled Sofia to him and rocked her body. A sob wrenched its way out of him until it was a wild scream of denial and fury.

  Chapter 17

  A fist, driven into his jaw, rocked him back.

  “Stand back so Danyael can help her.”

  In shock, he released Sofia. Her body collapsed into Danyael’s waiting arms. Beside the alpha empath, Zara glared at Kyle through narrowed eyes as she massaged her sore knuckles.

  Numbed by his pain and stunned by the overwhelming sense of loss over a woman he only knew for a few days, Kyle stood wide-eyed and silent against the wall. Danyael sat by Sofia’s bedside, his eyes closed, his hands wrapped around hers.

  The seconds ticked by.

  Sofia shuddered. Her chest moved slightly as she drew an unsteady breath.

  She was alive. Kyle’s jaw dropped. He closed the distance immediately and reached for her. “Sofia?”

  Her face was pale, her skin clammy. Her breathing was slow and labored.

  Danyael shook his head. “I pulled her back, but I can’t fix—”

  “Why not?” Kyle demanded.

  Zara cut in. “Heart and brain injuries are beyond his empathic healing powers. Absorbing them would kill him.”

  Kyle opened his mouth to object, but Danyael said quietly, “I can keep her alive until you find the antidote.”

  Kyle studied Danyael’s face, and then he nodded, his jaw tense. “How long do I have?”

  “Six hours. Maybe eight. No more.”

  He ground his teeth. Proficere Labs was at least three and a half hours away from Washington, D.C. One way. Seven hours on the road. It gave him all of one hour to break into the laboratory and find the antidote.

  And it was Sofia’s only chance.

  His hand was gentle as he stroked her cheek. Her chest scarcely rose and fell with each breath. One chance was all she needed, and Danyael was offering it to her. In that moment, Kyle and Danyael were two men driven apart by irreconcilable differences yet united with common purpose. “I’ll be back. Take good care of her.”

  Kyle strode out of the room, and Zara followed him downstairs. He threw a quick glance over his shoulder as he stepped out of the house. “The warehouse?”

  “Xin is on it,” Zara assured him.

  “Fine. Let me know if she picks up Luis Sanchez.”

  She nodded. “Do you need help? I can see what resources I can scrounge up.
It may have to be something official, given the last-minute notice.”

  He shook his head. The last time he had help on a case, he had landed up sacrificing his best friend. “I’m breaking into a laboratory. I don’t want, or need, anything official trailing along behind me.”

  “All right, but don’t screw up. Three lives are riding on this.”

  He spun around to face her. “What do you mean?”

  “Danyael has a bad habit of pushing beyond his limits.”

  Kyle frowned. Sofia and Danyael equaled two. “Three lives?”

  “Yours,” Zara said pointedly. “I will kill you if something happens to Danyael.”

  He chuckled in spite of the dearth of humor in the situation. “Noted.” He eyed her. “And you’ll stay here to keep them safe?”

  She nodded. “Just come back soon.”

  Kyle kept his foot rammed on the accelerator. Interstate 95 took him south, past dark patches of barren trees. Signs flashed by, announcing the facilities available at the next exit.

  He stopped once for gas, but otherwise ignored the beckoning motels and 24-hour diners. He did not need sleep nor food. His body was too wired. His hands tightened on the steering wheel. A muscle tic set into his cheek.

  All that shit over a waitress he had not even known for three days.

  A waitress, a nursing student.

  A bloody do-gooder. The type he had spent his entire life avoiding.

  A tiny woman who stood up to the IGEC, Rue Marcha, and, hell, even Zara Itani.

  How could he not respect that kind of courage? It had nothing to do with Sofia’s mutant powers. It was all heart—pure intentions, raw courage.

  How could he not love that in her?

  Love. Damn it.

  His mind churned as he tried to recall the layout of Proficere Labs. He had visited the laboratory twice, both times to meet with the professors, and in both cases, he had never gone beyond the visitor meeting rooms set on the far side of the foyer. The guards were subtle, but present. Fortunately, Proficere did not dabble in clones and in-vitros, or the security would have been far tighter.

  As it was, security was already tighter than he would have preferred. Fortunately, on his prior visits, idle conversations between the security guards had mentioned nightly pizza deliveries from a local pizza parlor.