Guardian

by Matthew S. Cox

  Dorian wandered over to Ron.

  “Dad! Mom!” screamed the hysterical Julián. “Don’t let the demons eat me!” He bawled, struggling against the restraints.

  Kirsten snarled. She pulled the woman up by her shoulders. “You think we’re demons? You have no damn idea what a demon really is, do you?” An image of the nine or ten foot tall jet-black scaly version of Hell-infused-Konstantin returned to the forefront of her memory, and she sent it into the woman’s mind. “That’s a fucking demon. Demons come from a place you can’t even imagine.”

  Ron let off a tortured scream of terror. By the time Kirsten looked up, Dorian appeared normal again… and too innocent. Ron’s courage seemed as absent as the color in his face.

  Four more Division 0 patrol craft raced in to land. Eight armored bodies swarmed the scene. One by one, they noticed Kirsten. Everyone seemed to be looking at her as if expecting orders. All tactical officers… all enlisted.

  Shit. Right. ‘Lieutenant Wren’ now.

  “Someone call in a MedVan for Logan.” She approached the panicking boy. “The three adults are charged with attempted murder on law enforcement personnel, but I don’t want anyone going summary on me, understood? For one thing, I want information from them we haven’t obtained yet. Second, this is complicated enough to warrant a full hearing. It galls me the most that these people were baiting us, willing to sacrifice their children to advance their hatred.”

  Nods came from all the armored figures.

  She took a knee by the child as the Tactical officers dragged the murderous family toward waiting patrol craft.

  “Calm.” Kirsten’s eyes gleamed with psionic energy.

  The boy went still, staring up at her, rapid breaths launching trails of spittle from his teeth.

  “We are not demons. No one is going to hurt you. Please calm down and don’t panic. I know you don’t trust us, and this is hard for you to believe, but your parents lied to you.” She pulled him around to sit rather than lie on his chest. “Your parents told you to shoot at one of us didn’t they?”

  Julián glared at her. His surface thoughts confirmed her fear.

  “Do you know why they did?” She took a stimpak from her belt case.

  “‘Cause you belong back in Hell with the Devil.” The boy squirmed, fighting his restraints, trying to get away from her.

  “That gun you shot my friend with is as big as handguns get. Way too big for a little boy. You hurt yourself.” Kirsten flicked the safety cap off the autoinjector. “Do you know what this is?”

  He nodded, still glaring at her. Blood continued to trickle out from his nose.

  Kirsten applied the stimpak to his shoulder. The device emitted a faint hiss, and within seconds, the bruises on his face faded. She held out her hand; her feeble telekinesis managed to pull the flattened slug that had fallen away from Nicole’s armor into her grip. “See this? The gun your parents gave you isn’t able to penetrate our armor. They wanted us to kill you.”

  He shivered. “No… you’re lying!” The boy looked at his parents, who couldn’t maintain eye contact with him. A glimmer of doubt spread over his mind, followed by nausea and fear.

  Kirsten dropped the telepathic link as well as the projectile. “I’m sorry, Julián. My mother was nuts too.” She leaned away as Tactical Officer Cortez came to collect the boy. With the scene under control, she joined Nicole sitting in the side door of the blue van, and held her friend’s hand. “Sorry for jumping on you.”

  “It’s okay.” Nicole gurgled. “What’s another inch of broken rib forced into a lung? I was too pissed off. Wasn’t thinking. Forgot how you are with kids.”

  “They’re Harris’s people. I saw it in the bitch’s thoughts. This is going to get worse.” Kirsten leaned forward, head in her hands.

  The rush of ion engines grew loud from above and left. Wind and bits of debris blew around both sides of the van, interlaced with small sparks and the taste of ozone.

  “Lieutenant,” said a female voice. “Medics are here.”

  Kirsten pulled Nicole’s arm over her shoulders. “Come on, Nikki. Your ride’s here.”

  Nicole closed her eyes and stifled a scream as Kirsten pulled her to her feet. She gasped with each step around the front of the van. Three Medtechs in white hurried towards them, pulling a hovering gurney along behind. A spot of pale cyan glow followed along the ground. Kirsten helped ease her onto it, and held her hand a moment longer.

  “You get to go relax early. I’m stuck here for at least another two hours.” Kirsten winked.

  “Hey.” Nicole coughed. “You better call Evan before he loses his mind.”

  Kirsten frowned over her shoulder at the van. “I’ll be outside the tank before you’re done cooking.”

  Nicole cringed. “Stop making me laugh. I’m good. Damn, I hate Class 6 weapons. Do what you gotta do… Lieutenant.” She grinned.

  Kirsten took a step back as the crew pushed her friend into the waiting MedVan, and muttered, “Okay, Harris. You want war?”

  Dorian walked up on her right side. “Don’t become what you’ve spent half your life hating.”

  “It doesn’t make any sense.” She tapped at her armband, calling in a crime scene team as well as some Division 1 units to cordon off the area.

  “Hate never does.” Dorian managed enough solidity to pat her shoulder with a clammy, sponge-like hand. “You’ve got a few minutes of quiet before the shitstorm swirls up again. She’s right, you know. Go ahead and call your son now before it gets crazy.”

  She smiled and pulled out her NetMini.

  irsten sat on a bench in the hallway of the medical wing. The spot where Evan’s face had been against her shoulder felt cold, dampened by his breath. He had limited time for his lunch break, and as much as she didn’t want to be separated from him, part of her duties included seeing he got a good education.

  She looked up when the door to the treatment room opened to reveal a gel-covered, naked Nicole. “What are you doing out there? Get in here.”

  Kirsten laughed. “I’m not hugging you until you’re dry… and dressed.”

  Nicole showed off her chest, tracing a circle from collarbone, around one breast, down to almost her navel. “The bruise was this big.”

  She backed away from the door as Kirsten rushed in, more to push her friend out of sight from the hallway.

  “I bet that little bastard had a busted nose.” Nicole hopped in an autoshower tube. “Four ribs broken, one ripped my lung open.”

  Kirsten shivered.

  “Yeah, no shit.” Nicole stretched as the water hit her. “That thing hit hard enough to do that to me under rigid armor… don’t wanna know what would’ve happened….” She stopped spinning about in the tube, looking at Kirsten. “I’m glad he picked me to shoot first.”

  “I should’ve sent Dorian into the damn van and had him kill weapons.” Kirsten rubbed the bridge of her nose. “It’s my fault.”

  Don’t worry about it. Nicole switched to telepathy rather than shout over the dry cycle. They’ll think you’re nuts if you start talking about ghosts. No other cop has that option, remember?

  Yeah, but I’m supposed to manage every resource at my disposal.

  A towel jumped off a chair and draped over Kirsten’s head.

  She pulled it down.

  Stop blaming yourself.

  Nicole hopped out and looked around. “Where’s my gear?”

  The doctor shrugged. “Gone when I got here.” He glanced at the medtech who looked fresh out of high school.

  “Uhh.” The short woman bit her lip. “All she had was underwear, and we cut that off her.”

  “Dammit. Of course they wouldn’t leave it sitting around. Psi Armor’s classified…” Nicole started for the door. “Fuck it.”

  “Nikki!” Kirsten grabbed her arm. “What are you doing?”

  “Going back to the squad room.” Nicole took a step for the door.

  Kirsten gasped, blushing. “You can’t streak the P
AC.”

  “Watch me.”

  Kirsten pulled her back. “I’ll run and grab you a new uniform… or use a towel.”

  “A towel would be more embarrassing than nothing believe it or not.”

  “I don’t believe it.” Kirsten folded her arms.

  The medtech hurried out, yelling, “I’ll get her a smock.”

  Nicole folded her arms and sighed. “Fine. Whoever stranded me here with nothing to wear needs to know it doesn’t bother me at all so they don’t do it again.”

  “Next thing I know you’ll have cat ears and a tail installed.” Kirsten rolled her eyes. “You can’t run around the PAC naked!”

  “I dunno.” Nicole twisted around to look at her butt. “A tail might be cute.”

  Kirsten threw the towel at her.

  “I wasn’t gonna run around naked.” Nicole laughed. “Planned on walking.”

  A little while later, the woman returned with a patient’s smock, a clingy white garment with super-short sleeves and legs. Nicole frowned at herself after putting it on. “This thing is so tight it’s not much different than streaking. Whatever.”

  The redhead stormed down the hallways as confident as if she’d been covered in armor. Kirsten couldn’t make eye contact with anyone. Eventually they got back to their squad room, and Nicole headed for the lockers to change. Kirsten went right to Eze’s office, expecting he’d shout for her if she did anything else.

  He looked up from his terminal as she walked in. “How’s Logan?”

  “Fine, sir. Back to her old self, though the painkillers haven’t worn off yet. She’s speaking in full sentences still.”

  Captain Eze laughed. “I read your report. The brass is concerned that acting against that little ‘church’ will trigger a backlash, and blow up in a big way. They do not want to give those imbeciles what they are hoping for. I wanted to commend you for again exercising great restraint. Most would’ve shot them as soon as they went for their weapons.”

  “Sir, are we just going to sit here and let them come after us? Attack random psionic civilians because of the ravings of a madman?” She paced in a three step back and forth. “I… We have to do something.”

  He raised a placating hand. “We are. I don’t have the specifics of it yet, but rest assured this unprovoked attack will not go without consequence.”

  “Understood.” She looked down.

  Captain Eze gestured as if tossing something to her. No object flew, but her armband beeped. “I need you to check out this address. I know you’re up to your eyeballs with the organ harvester case, but this just came in while you were waiting for Logan, and there’s a child involved.”

  Kirsten’s chest tightened. “How so?”

  “We received contact from the parents of a five year old girl who’s apparently seen a ghost. Sounds as though the child may require sedatives.”

  She exhaled. “I’m on it.”

  After trading salutes, she hurried out and ran to the elevator that would take her to the garage. Half of her hoped the kind of ghost that would terrorize a little child would do something to give her an excuse to smash it. It wouldn’t be Reverend Harris’s she’d be thrashing, but it would let off some steam. She tapped her foot and bounced as the blinding white capsule descended. When the doors open, she sprinted to the car.

  Dorian materialized in the passenger seat. “That was quick. New lead?”

  “Different case.” She shot out of the garage, keeping the car at an incline matching the exit ramp as she banked into the sky. “Some kind of haunt. It’ll be nice to deal with a spirit on site for once rather than having to chase it all over the city. Scared the shit out of a little girl.”

  “Any idea why?”

  “Not yet.” She poked the Navcon. The pin Captain Eze sent indicated a residence tower 318 miles northeast of the PAC. “Ugh.”

  Kirsten turned on the bar lights and ‘siren,’ climbed to 1400 feet, and pushed the patrol craft up into the low 400 mph range. Forty-seven minutes later, she slowed and steered into a tightening spiral around the roof of the destination. So many residence towers clustered together here, flying above them made the ground look like an electron microscope view of carpet pile… if carpet pile were square.

  She landed on the rooftop parking deck, half on the sidewalk by the door, and left the bar lights flashing. Three minutes of elevator brought her to the twenty-third floor, and apartment 23-09.

  A haggard-looking man with a mocha complexion, goatee, and frazzled hair answered the door. “Hey, awright. You the psi cop?”

  “That’s correct. You are Mr. Short?”

  “Da one and only.” He smiled. “You know ghosts and shit, right?”

  “Oh, I’m terribly sorry. She’s never encountered one before,” said Dorian.

  She shot him a sidelong glare. “Yes, sir. Your daughter saw one?”

  “Yah. Claire had a damn seizure in the bathtub.”

  Dorian blinked. “Wow… they have an actual bathtub?”

  Ghost tries to drown the kid in the bathtub. Kirsten growled in her head. “Can I see her?”

  “Sure. If you can get her outta the damn vent.” The man backed up to let her in.

  “She’s in the vents?”

  “Yah. Ran screamin’ into the vents and hasn’t come out since.” Mr. Short walked with an arm-swinging, slow-ish gait that hinted he’d recently partaken of Flowerbasket or something similar. “My wife’s tried everything from offerin’ ta buy her crap ta threatenin’ ta ground her till she’s twenty. Girl still won’t come out.”

  The deeper Kirsten walked into the relatively neat apartment, the louder the distant hushed mutterings of a woman’s voice became. Halfway down a corridor leading from the living room to interior bedrooms, a woman who made Captain Eze look pale crouched down on all fours with her head stuck in a square vent along the floor.

  “Ma’am?” asked Kirsten.

  “Come on sweetie. Get on outta there.”

  “No!” wailed a tiny voice.

  “Ma’am.” Kirsten stepped closer.

  The woman leaned out of the vent and sat back on her heels. Her red-tinted eyes had an exotic almond shape and inward tilt that recalled the desert-dwelling elves from the Monwyn world. She regarded Kirsten with fatigue and annoyance. “Who the hell are… oh, damn… Sorry. What took so long?”

  “I’m sorry, Ma’am. I’m the only astral in West City, and I’m stationed a bit of a ride away.”

  “Claire’s been sitting in that vent for damn near an hour now. She crawled in there straight from the damn tub. She’s gonna catch her death. Can you get rid of that damn thing so she’ll come out?”

  Kirsten looked around.

  “I’ll find the spirit. Get the girl.” Dorian walked by, heading for the bathroom.

  Kirsten knelt and stooped forward. About four feet in from the hall, two huge brown eyes peered out of a voluminous mass of hair. Grey dust covered a small shivering body.

  “Hey sweetie.” Kirsten smiled. “I’m here to make the bad ghost go away. I won’t let them hurt you. Please come on out of there. Your parents are worried.”

  The child uncurled a little, but shook her head.

  Kirsten peeked into the girl’s thoughts. One second playing in the bathtub, the next, sharing it with a twenty-something woman with skin as white as a hospital wall and purple lips. The spirit bled from both wrists, smiled, and tried to hold the child’s hand. It seemed like the spirit had attempted to say hello, but the little girl panicked.

  “Well, that’s not as bad as I thought.”

  “What do you mean?” asked the mother.

  Kirsten looked up at her. “The ghost your daughter saw… I don’t think she was trying to be harmful. The woman tried to say hello, but she looks… terrifying. I saw one like that when I was seven and I had a similar reaction.”

  “Are you saying my daughter is psionic?” The woman’s eager look caught Kirsten off guard.

  So far, every time she’d told someo
ne their kid was psionic it had become a ‘get it out of my house’ situation. Kirsten couldn’t help herself and peeked at the mother’s surface thoughts… This woman, and her husband, were into superheroes. To them, psionic was just as cool.

  “I’m not sure. One second.” Kirsten stuck her head back in the vent. “Claire, please come out. You need to get cleaned up and put some clothes on.”

  “No. I’m scared.”

  “I’m sorry Claire. If you don’t come out, I have to get you out of there before you get hurt.”

  “I’m not hurt.”

  “Come here.” Kirsten’s eyes glimmered.

  Claire’s stubborn scowl melted to a placid smile. After another second of staring into space, the child crawled forward to the opening. Kirsten leaned back and let the girl’s mother collect her. The girl kept grinning. Kirsten stood and leaned close to her, eye to eye. A cursory mental sweep surprised her: the girl was psionic, but not an astral. From the way her brain felt, likely either electro or pyrokinetic… plus some telepathy she didn’t know she had. Since Kirsten didn’t have much in the way of the ‘kinesis’ spectrum, telling the difference was beyond her.

  Kirsten patted the mother on the shoulder. Ma’am. We’ll need to talk once I address this ghost issue. Your daughter is psionic… I’m not enough of a telepath to tell exactly what, since her talents are still latent, but she’s going to either be electrokinetic or pyrokinetic… maybe telekinetic. Telepathy is common as well.

  The woman’s eyes swelled with excitement.

  “Don’t thank me yet.” Kirsten patted her on the shoulder. “Children with kinesis abilities make for some wild tantrums. They’re a handful.”

  Dorian walked out of the bathroom followed by a slender nude woman with grey skin, dripping wet, oozing blood from both wrists.

  Claire fidgeted and whined, unsettled by the energy in the air, but she didn’t react as if she could see either ghost.

  “Go on and take her to her room.” Kirsten patted the mother. “I need a moment with your houseghost.” She faced the suicide spirit. “Hi.”

  The suicide spirit ran over and hugged her… or tried. After a few seconds, Kirsten caved in and made herself solid to the astral realm. The ghost blew up in tears, sobbing and squeezing. Intense cold washed over Kirsten from the embrace, and it took a few minutes for the woman to gain control of herself.