by Kit Hallows
It never ceases to amaze me how fickle blinkereds are. It’s like there’s an ocean of darkness bubbling below the surface, and all it takes to bring it flooding out is one little scratch.
She was wrong. It was true that a hidden darkness lurked below the facades of some people, but not all of them. And this gathering was proof of that, and the realization made me more determined than ever to stop Endersley. I waded through the throng until my phone began to rumble in my pocket. I leaned over a short-fenced barrier and took the call.
“We nabbed one,” Haskins said. “Didn’t look anything like your description, not at first, but one of my guys spotted some wires hanging out of a backpack and-”
“What does he look like?”
“He… uh. Well, he changed. At first he looked like a Chinese guy in a business suit but then he changed real fast. Blue hair, a face full of metal. And he ain’t talking.”
“There’s a good chance his mind’s been tampered with, so he may not be able to speak. Good work, Haskins.”
“What about you? Anything?”
I heard the fear and desperation in his question. I felt it too. “Not yet, but we’re working on it.” I hung up and watched three cop cars race by, their lights flashing quietly as they escorted a van with tinted windows.
That left two more bombers. Plus the shooters, but from what we’d gleaned it didn’t sound like they were going to act unless the bombs went off. Not that I was banking on that. I glanced around the crowd, scouring it for magical cloaks among hundreds of faces. The din of conversation and the proximity of the people began to feel more and more overwhelming as I desperately scanned through them.
I needed more clarity and focus. I grabbed a handful of crystals and shivered as their energy ignited my senses. It was almost too much to contain within me.
As I fought to control the swell of magic, my dark other stirred. I felt him watching, waiting to slip into my consciousness. It was unsettling. I moved through the crowd, clearing another block and spotted a few Nightkind cloaked as blinkereds. They saw me too and judging from their odd reactions they’d probably committed a few petty crimes already, but that wasn’t my concern… there!
A glassy shimmer and behind it steel-rimmed glasses and darting eyes set in a pale, sickly face. A backpack, and a Winter Festival tote bag stuffed to the brim. He gazed at me, our eyes met and his mouth fell open. Then he turned and shoved through the crowd. I ran after him and fought my way through, knocking people aside, barking apologies as I went.
The man stopped for a moment and his hand strayed to his jacket.
Shit. Was he going to detonate? He glanced round, disappointment on his face. The crowd was thin here, much less of an impact than he could score elsewhere. I read all of this in his face and more. And then his eyes narrowed as he spotted an alley and ran for it, his backpack wobbling over his shoulder.
I raced after him but the gap between us began to grow. He was fast. Faster than me. Even weighed down with bombs and who knew what. I reached for my gun but held off. If I shot there was a chance I could trigger the explosives.
The energy from the crystals bubbled through me, seeking an outlet. I thought back to Talamos Gin and the black fire I’d summoned. I could do it again, I still had the knowledge I’d absorbed from him.
I dismissed the words Astrid had whispered inside my mind and summoned the fire. They appeared like tiny black feathers billowing in the palms of my hands. I ran on, ignoring the stitch in my side as I focused on the flames. They began to grow, swell and merge into dense orbs of fire. I threw them. They shot past the bomber and hit the wall at the end of the alley. The flames erupted over the brick walls and spread along the ground toward the bomber in a torrent of fire.
He jerked to a stop, glanced my way and then back to the conflagration.
“That’s right,” I shouted. “There’s nowhere to run.”
Ice-cold fury seeped through me as he took a step my way, then back to the flames. Finally, he turned back to me. “Please!” he cried.
His panic had overridden whatever magical programming Endersley had installed in him. He set his bag down, pulled the backpack off and laid it on the ground.
I drew my gun and forced my fury down to a simmer as he held a hand out my way, as if trying to hold me back. Then his terror seemed to get the better of him and he ran and leapt over the flames.
He cleared the first wave and landed in a patch of smoldering ground, but within moments the flames began to swirl and sweep toward him.
As they closed in, the sounds that followed should have made me nauseous, but instead I caught myself reveling in his torment. I forced myself to shake the feeling off, to shun this new sadistic darkness as I raised the gun and ended his suffering.
His body fell as the flames surged around him like a twister, consuming him where he lay and filling the air with the stench of burnt flesh. Once their fuel was spent, the flames begin to flicker and soon they vanished into the ground, as if returning to hell.
I felt sick as I rang Haskins. “The second one’s down. The other male,” I said. “His pack’s still in the alley. Send your bomb squad in, I’ll text the coordinates.”
“So one more to go,” Haskins said, “you got twenty minutes, if we don’t find her I’m shutting the festival down. You-”
A beep sounded on the line. “Someone else is calling. This could be our lucky break, I gotta go,” I said as I hung up.
“Morgan.” Astrid was almost breathless. “I see the girl. She’s right in front of me.”
“Where are you?” I asked.
“Near a tavern called The George and Dragon, there’s a Japanese restaurant next door and-”
“Perfect, I’m two minutes away. What’s she doing?”
“Lurking by a playground filled with children.”
What better place to detonate a bomb for anyone looking to spark a war between the blinkereds and the magical community? Sick fucks. “I’m on my way. Stay with her.” I ended the call and texted my coordinates to Haskins as I turned my back on the smoky charred remains and headed out of the blackened alleyway.
51
I phoned Samuel as I fought my way through the crowd.
“Morgan?” Samuel’s voice was faint amongst the crackles and distortion and I could hear the wind screeching behind him.
“Two down. And Astrid’s just found the girl. Where are you?”
“The rooftops. I thought a higher vantage point might…” Samuel tailed off.
“The girl’s at a playground near a tavern called The George and Dragon. Find it and cover us from the roof. And if you see the girl reach toward her bag or… Samuel?”
He was silent, but I could hear the wind blowing in the receiver, and then he said, “Oh,” and the line went dead.
Shit. I called back. It rang and rang but there was no answer. I ran on, praying it was only a dead battery and that he’d be joining us soon, because we were going to need all the help we could get.
Fighting through the crowd was nearly impossible so I vaulted over the barrier and raced down the street, ignoring the cop that started shouting at me. I ran hard, the blinkered crowd became a blur of faces and sound. A police siren whooped, and I glanced back to find a patrol car barreling toward me on the wrong side of the road. I leaped over the fence and vanished into the crowd.
Finally, I turned the corner and spotted The George and Dragon. I raced past it toward the small park beyond. The cool air was scented with cotton candy and hotdogs and chimed with holiday tunes. Trees twinkled with brightly colored lights as families waited in the soft yellow glow of a mini Ferris wheel that had drawn in the crowd. I scanned the scene but no one stood out among the revelers or the carnies dressed as snowmen and elves.
I looked again and… there.
Along the fence. It took a moment to see past the polished illusion of a lanky woman wearing ski pants and a tall furry hat, to the girl hidden below. Her hair was black, greasy and spiked, and dark smudg
es underscored her eyes. She leaned on the barricade, her backpack hanging over her shoulders and a full harvest bag by her side.
I watched as she pulled her phone from her coat, peered at it, and put it back into her pocket. Moments later she did the same thing again, and then she glanced away as a couple led five small children toward the midway like a row of ducklings. She watched them pass with a subdued, vacant gaze. Drugs. She was high. But there was guilt as well. Guilt and doubt.
Two things I could work with.
I looked past her and spotted Astrid lurking under a nearby beech tree. She held her phone, pretending to read it, but her full attention was on the girl, and then she glanced at me as I called her.
“You see her?” Astrid answered.
“Yeah, I see her. Can you get closer?”
She nodded and glanced to the rooftops across the way. “Where’s Samuel?”
“I don’t know. He might have problems. We were talking and his phone cut out.”
Astrid nodded. “We’ll get to it as soon as we’ve dealt with her. What’s the plan?”
“Get the bags away from her. Evacuating the place is too risky, it might set her off. I’ll see if I can talk to her, try and lead her away from the fair. If that doesn’t work I’ll signal you. If I do, cut the straps off her backpack and run. I’ll grab the bag at her feet and be right behind you. Pass the pack to me and I’ll get them the hell out of here. She looks like she’s strung out, but she could have a handler watching nearby, and there might be a remote detonator. Which means I’m going to have to move fast once I have the bags.”
“Where are you taking them?”
“Across that street. There’s a plaza a couple of blocks away. It should be empty seeing as everyone’s here. Once I have it secure, I’ll call Haskins, his people can deal with disarming the devices. Just keep an eye on the girl while I’m gone, don’t let her go anywhere. I want to question her before we hand her over to the cops, find out what she knows.”
“Got it,” Astrid said. Then she paused and gave me a tired smile. “Be careful.”
“You too.” I gave her the best smile I could muster and slipped the phone into my pocket as I checked my watch. Quarter to ten. Haskins would be calling for his evacuation soon. I strode toward the girl and nodded to her. “Hey, do you know when the festival’s starting?” I asked. “I thought it was supposed to get going at ten.”
“Eleven,” she said. Her voice was flat and low and her eyes darted over me. They were red and smeared with mascara. Clearly she’d been crying, but there was a detachment in her body language, like she was somewhere else entirely.
I watched from the corner of my eye as Astrid moved closer.
“Can you like, go away?” the girl asked. She gave me an irritated, dismissive look and one of her hands began to stray to her pocket. I needed to distract her, and fast. I held her gaze and gave her a glimpse into the darkness within me. The listlessness left her eyes. “Endersley sent me,” I said, glancing around like I was making sure no-one was listening.
“I didn’t see you at the mill.”
“I didn’t see you either,” I said. “Seems Endersley kept us in the dark about a lot of things. Listen, he sent me to check up on you, make sure you’re going through with the plan. You look freaked out. You need to focus on the job, it's almost time.”
The girl pulled her phone and I watched closely as the full scale of the horror seemed to dawn on her. “I don’t know…” She glanced around at the kids behind her. “I can’t…”
“You want me to take over?” I asked as I waved the tip of my fingers to tell Astrid to back off.
“Yeah,” the girl said, “you do it. I can’t.” She reached for the strap on her bag.
“Careful,” I said. “You don’t want to call attention to us.”
Slowly she removed the backpack and held it out to me. “Thank you,” she said. I let my hand brush hers as I took the bag, and held her gaze in mine, befuddling her as I read her, fast.
Her name was Tiffany and her boyfriend, the guy with the blue hair and piercings, was David. He was the one who'd found them the job, and readily accepted it in exchange for a shit ton of heroin. Most of which they’d already smoked. In between the highs, David had outlined each and every reason why they should do the job and blow up the whole fucking city. He hated the place, hated everything, as did Tiffany. Most of their lives had been spent being ferried from one foster care home to another, plucked from one hotbed of abuse into another. Over and over again through their childhood and teenage years.
And then they’d met Slater. He’d supplied the drugs they’d sought out, and groomed them, sowing the seeds of this plan in their minds. And once they fell for his bait, he’d handed them over to Endersley, who’d used magic to strip away their frayed psychic defenses. He’d also made them go cold turkey these last two days, while soothing the pain of their nagging withdrawals with his potions. Having them clean had made it easier for his magic to reformat their minds so he could install his malware into their brains. It had worked but this morning when Tiffany had stopped by to see her foster mother to say goodbye, she’d found the almost forgotten remains of a wrap of heroin in a hidey-hole in her old bedroom. There hadn't been much, but it was enough to take the edge of Endersley’s programming…
I rifled through her thoughts until I found what I was looking for. There was more coming. The night before last Tiffany had gone outside the mill for a smoke and overheard a conversation between Endersley and Slater. The bombs and shooters weren’t the full plan. No, the full plan included medics who were going to inject victims with the virus, potentially infecting hundreds in one fell swoop.
That was the reason for the carnage… to seed the disease far and wide.
Tiffany flinched as I pulled my hand away from hers. She stared at me, her eyes almost accusing, like she knew what I’d done. “Are you going to stop it from happening?” she asked, her gaze filled with pleading. “I… I don’t want people to get hurt. Not really.”
“Yes. Just release the bag, carefully.”
She sighed as she let the strap go. It was heavy. I hoisted it over my shoulder and held out my hand. “And now the bag,” I said. She reached down and as she gave it to me a red light began to flash inside.
Shit. It seemed the bomb was rigged to make sure it was handled by Tiffany, and Tiffany alone, and we'd just tripped it.
I ran through the park, knocking people aside as I leaped over the fence into the street, the pack weighing down on my shoulder as the lights in the bag flashed brighter and brighter in the wintry gloom.
52
A police car shot out of an alleyway as I ran across the street. The squeal of its siren was loud and high and the cop’s face paled as he looked from me to the backpack and then to the bag in my hand. He hit the brakes and began to climb out. I held his gaze as I moved toward him, befuddling him before seizing his wrist and overwhelming his senses long enough for me to run unhindered.
I raced along the deserted sidewalk, away from the merriment of the festival, and turned down a side street. The lights inside the bag were lit up like a Christmas tree and I wondered how long I had…
Parked cars and dark office buildings lined the still quiet neighborhood, and then my gaze fell on the gated subway station.
“Damn it!” There was a sharp pain in my arm as the bag suddenly grew impossibly heavy. Another enchantment.
I grabbed a crystal and used its magic to counteract the spell. It helped, a little. I ran on, the backpack slipping on my shoulders as I struggled with the bag’s deadweight and watched the lights inside blinking faster and faster.
I kicked the locked gate that blocked off the subway entrance. It rattled but held firm so I pulled my gun and fired, annihilating the deadbolt with a single shot.
With a grunt I pushed it open and slipped the backpack into one hand as I struggled with the bag in my other. It felt like they were filled with concrete and my arms began to tremble as I drew
then back.
“Come on!” I cried, putting everything I had into swinging the bombs forward to hurl them down the stairway.
They tumbled through the air as if in slow motion.
I turned and ran down the street as I waited for the…
BOOM!
The ground rumbled, the force of the blast threw me off my feet, and the world turned fiery red. Light flashed off the surrounding cars as a wave of heat drove me forward. I pulled my coat around me as it launched me through the air and slammed me into the ground. The surrounding cars shifted, groaned and burst into flames, one after the other in what felt like an endless chain reaction.
Then another blast roared followed by a sound like a thousand shattering windows. The second explosion shook the ground, even more violently. Slivers of glass tumbled around me in a deadly glittering rain and I cried out as something crashed down on my legs.
I waited for the devastation and fury to settle. Seconds felt like minutes but slowly the rumble faded and the piercing shrieks of alarms and sirens filled the void. I pulled my coat from my face and peered out.
The road was awash with shattered glass and brick, splintered wood, and crumpled, twisted burning cars. Black smoke and dust choked my lungs as I climbed to my feet and peered down at the street sign that had fallen on me.
I looked back at the subway. The fence surrounding it had been mangled into a crumpled mess of scorched jagged metal. Thick black and grey smoke streamed from a gaping hole in the ground that looked like the doorway to hell. I clamped my coat to my mouth and staggered back along the street, my body riddled with jarring pain.
