Shattered Focus (A Paranormal, Urban, Fantasy Novella) (Focus Series Book 3)

by Alex Bostwick

  He started to shake his head, but winced against the fangs at his throat. “No. I’ll help. I want to help.”

  “I know you do. Rick, let him go.”

  He did, wordlessly shifting his arm back to normal. “I would just like to state for the record that you’re an asshole, Nick.”

  “Noted,” I said, smiling weakly. Rick matched it with one of his own.

  “We need to move. But… babe,” I said to Rick. “We can’t come back here. They know about me now.”

  “I know,” he said, shaking his head sadly. “Damn it. I was just getting used to sleeping here.”

  “Here’s the plan,” I began. “Rick, I need you to head to Jason, now. You can fly there faster than we can drive. If you can get to him in time, we might be able to avoid a fight altogether.”

  “Got it,” he replied. “What about you?”

  “I’m packing up the car, and we’ll drive after you in about five minutes. We’ll need to have clothes, food, money, all of that stuff after we’re done. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

  He nodded.

  “Be careful,” I told him. “I can’t do this without you.”

  He gave me a fierce grin. “I’ll see you soon, babe.”

  With that, he turned and walked out the door, shimmering and rippling for a second or two before flying off into the night as some kind of large bird of prey. He didn’t even kiss me goodbye.

  That’s not an omen. That is definitely not an omen.

  I shook off my doubt, and hastily began packing everything I could fit into some duffel bags.

  It was going to be a long night.

  Chapter Six

  We broke virtually every traffic law at the county, state, and federal levels. The needle on the speedometer practically snapped off a few times during our reckless drive to the warehouse. The other cars on the highway—surprisingly few, considering that it was early in the evening on a work day—were little more than colored blurs against the background.

  In short, we made the nearly hour-long trip in about twenty-five minutes.

  I careened through the gate—already opened—in the chain link fence around the warehouse at speed, kicking up gravel as I fishtailed a bit. The tires caught hold after a second, and we shot into the parking lot. I slid into a spot near one of the entrances, jamming on the brakes and causing Nick to lurch forward in his seat. He had been white as a sheet for most of the hectic trip, gripping the Oh Shit bar above his window, and mouthing wordless prayers.

  Considering what he had done, regardless of his motives, I wasn’t particularly sympathetic.

  “Let’s move,” I said as soon as I had thrown the parking brake.

  Nick shook his head and pointed out the window. On the opposite side of the parking lot, four black SUVs surrounded a small four-door sedan. That must have been Jason’s car. The Unfocused were already here, blocking him in.

  “Doesn’t matter. We still need to get to Jason. If he’s fighting, he’ll need our help.”

  Nick swallowed heavily, looking reluctant.

  So I slapped one of his cheeks, hard.

  “I need you to sack up for a minute. I know you didn’t join Focus to fight, but that’s what you’re going to do now. These pieces of shit took your parents. They intimidated you, made you betray your friends and your ideals. And I don’t have the fucking time to sit here and give you a speech that’s more motivational than that. I’m going.” I unbuckled my seat belt and opened my door. “If you’re coming, get off your ass and move.” I kept the fact that Rick was nowhere to be seen to myself. He should have been here by now, should have reached Jason ten minutes ago and warned him off.

  I tried to push that thought aside as best I could.

  The combination of the slap and harsh words had snapped Nick out of his near catatonia. He looked at me, his eyes suddenly determined. He gave me a sharp nod, and climbed out of the car.

  A new problem faced us. The warehouse was enormous, probably the size of two or three city blocks. All of the windows that we could see were totally dark. It would take us far too long to find Jason stumbling through that cavernous place.

  I rolled up my sleeves. “Okay. I’m going to try to find them.”

  “Nora?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Where’s Rick? If he flew, he should already be here.”

  I ground my teeth together in frustration. “He can take care of himself,” I insisted. “Now shut up and let me concentrate.”

  I closed my eyes and focused. Spirit magic can work in a lot of interesting ways, one of which is seeking people out. I could sort of cast a wide net of magic around an area, and locate the minds of the people within it. It had an extremely limited range, especially for someone who hadn’t gone through the Bonding, but it should be enough to cover the building.

  I exerted my will, extending the net outward, as far as I could reach. Seconds passed as the invisible web spread throughout the building, pushing across every inch. Shortly, I sort of became aware of several people inside. I counted thirteen of them. One of them, whose consciousness seemed to burn with determination—Jason, probably—stood in the middle of the main floor.

  Three appeared to be running, moving fast and far away, towards the SUVs.

  The other nine were surrounding what I assumed to be Jason, moving closer, tightening their formation.

  “Shit,” I cursed, my eyes snapping open. “They’ve got him surrounded. We’ve got to get to him. They’re not going to give him a chance to fight back.”

  “Got it,” Nick said. “Lead the way.”

  We sprinted towards the building. I had gotten an extremely general idea of the layout, thanks to the spell. I had touched the consciousness of everyone there, and while I hadn’t done it enough to read all their minds, it had given me some of the surface details.

  Magic is fucking cool.

  Nick and I reached a door that would lead us to the main floor. I stopped just short of it, holding my hand out to stop Nicholas. I wanted to remain unnoticed for as long as possible. Once I made sure Nick was behind me, I eased open the door as quietly as I could, thankful that it didn’t creak. We slipped inside silently, pausing in the darkness to let our eyes adjust to the gloom.

  Slowly, the room came into view. A little bit of light from the nearly full moon filtered through the high windows, but it wasn’t much. The warehouse was filled with stacks of derelict shipping containers, many of them chewed away by rust. Empty drums stood here and there, without any sort of organization evident. The place felt exactly how an abandoned warehouse should: neglected, eerie, and dank. I shook my head in annoyance that Jason had selected a place like this to meet us.

  “He’ll be over there, past a few rows of these containers,” I whispered to Nick. “Last I saw, the bad guys were coming in from down there.” I pointed towards the other end of the warehouse. Nick nodded.

  We headed towards the Unfocused. I led the way, hunched over in a half-crouch, padding as softly as I could. Every so often, I stopped and listened for any sounds of movement. I thought I might have heard a shoe scuff against the floor, but the size and openness of the warehouse made it difficult to figure out where it came from.

  Judging from the glimpse I’d gotten from my Spirit web, I was behind and to the left of the last agent in their formation. Jason would be ahead of them, vaguely in the center of the room.

  I crept around a row of storage containers, and drew up short. Near the end of the aisle, a big man in jeans and a button down flannel shirt crouched. He had shoulder-length brown hair, tied back in a ponytail. I felt the stirrings of magic, the faint prickling sensation from someone drawing in power. He held it in check, waiting for something before striking.

  At least I’m getting some more Spirit practice.

  I closed my eyes and concentrated once more. I could dominate this guy’s mind, make him see his greatest fear with illusions, or any number of things of varying degrees of gruesomeness. Instead, I reached i
nto his head with my magic, and, with an exertion of will, made him think he was paralyzed.

  Mind over matter is a concept that has been proven time and time again. People have reproduced the results in laboratory conditions, too—for example, a hypnosis patient in Utah reportedly developed indentations along her arms when the hypnotist suggested that she was tied up with rope. It may even be an explanation for some reports of stigmata.

  All I did to the agent was tell him that he was unable to move, see, hear, or cry out. I did it with magic, sure, but it was, at its most basic level, hypnosis.

  He immediately froze, and began to topple over. Nick acted quickly, rushing forward on tiptoes to catch him before he hit the ground. He gently lowered him to the stone floor, careful to stay out of sight of the other aisles. He flashed me a thumbs up. I grinned fiercely in response.

  One down…

  We regrouped, and continued to creep along the rows, alert for signs of more of them. Two aisles down, we saw another agent, crouching similarly to the one I had disabled. This one was a woman, her hair a flaming red. She wore some kind of tactical vest, an earpiece dangling loosely from her neck. Apparently they weren’t maintaining radio contact, which was a relief.

  I prepared myself to do deal with her just as I had the last one. I closed my eyes, drawing on my inner power, and readied my will.

  That’s when all hell broke loose.

  It started with a sound of tearing metal from outside, a cacophony of shrieking and squealing that set my teeth on edge. Glass shattered somewhere, too, and I heard a wail of pain.

  Someone shouted from a few aisles away, and suddenly a torrent of magic flew towards the center of the room, where Jason waited. Hurricane strength winds blew through the warehouse, howling and scattering empty drums. The peculiar sound of ice crackling, amplified a thousand fold, echoed throughout the area. The earth rumbled beneath my feet, upsetting my balance and tipping me over. My concentration broke, and my will was dispersed harmlessly around me.

  Nick didn’t have any trouble staying upright, somehow keeping his feet.

  “Fuck it,” I heard him mutter. He extended one hand toward the woman at the end of the aisle. She must have been an Earth agent, because she was on all fours, her face contorted in concentration. A line of broken floor sped away from her hands, a crack that widened rapidly.

  Nick shut her down. He squeezed his fist, and pulled it towards his chest.

  The woman didn’t have time to cry out in pain. Liquid flew from her body at a sickening speed, most of it an ugly red-tinged ichor. It shot out of her from her mouth, nose, eyes, ears—everywhere there was an orifice. And, I noticed in disgust, some places there weren’t. Her skin parted as it lost its moisture, lines of slightly darker flesh exposed in long gashes. Nick gathered the fluid into a surprisingly large orb that hovered above his open palm.

  The woman collapsed upon the floor, her body desiccated, dehydrated, mummified in an instant. Her corpse gave off a cloud of dust when it struck the ground, and one of her arms simply snapped off at the elbow.

  The rumbling stopped. Nick turned and met my shocked gaze. He shrugged, and giggled madly.

  Then he craned his neck to the side and vomited.

  I understood.

  “Holy shit,” I managed to say as I struggled to my feet. “Puke later. Let’s move.”

  Nick nodded grimly, and we sped to the end of the aisle.

  I heard a roar of defiance from the center of the room, somehow loud enough to drown out the gale. A gout of flame, radiant and bright, cut through the darkness off to one side. I shielded my eyes as best I could and trudged onward. The flames continued for several seconds before they halted, as quickly as shutting off a garden hose.

  Off to the right, I heard a loud shout, and turned to see a pair of agents sprinting towards Jason, not ten feet from me. With no time to concentrate and use magic, I ran straight at the first one, shouting what was most definitely a war cry, meant to startle and intimidate, and was absolutely not a girly shriek of terror.

  Thankfully, I had been practicing the past few weeks with Rick, and he taught me a few techniques that didn’t rely on size or strength. My target was a bit above average in terms of height and bulk. He looked like he spent his time working with his hands, with sizeable arms and a chest that would have been impressive if I had never seen Rick naked before.

  He lurched toward me, evidently surprised at my arrival.

  “Tress,” he snarled in recognition, one hand swirling in a complicated gesture that likely would have killed me in a particularly violent and doubtlessly spectacular way.

  I didn’t give him the chance. Instead, I closed with him, snatched his outstretched hand, and yanked him toward me. I turned my hip in his direction, and planted my right hand against my side, elbow sticking out. Pulled off balance, the guy stumbled toward me, and I lunged my elbow as hard as I could into his diaphragm, using his own considerable weight against him. He gave an audible “oof” as the blow winded him. I didn’t let him recover.

  He started to double over in pain, and once his head had reached grabbing distance, I snapped both hands on either side of it, and pulled down as hard as I could. At the same time, I brought my knee upwards in a half-kick, making gruesome contact with his nose. I felt it break against my kneecap, with some grim satisfaction.

  But the big guy still wasn’t down. He grunted in pain, swinging his arms aimlessly in a fruitless attempt to grab me. I juked to his right, and snapped one leg out in a hard kick to the side of his knee. He yelped in pain, and staggered back, limping slightly. He was still up.

  So I did it again.

  This time, there was an audible snap as something broke, and he howled in agony. He fell on the concrete floor, moaning and clutching his leg.

  Behind me, Nick shouted “DOWN!”

  I dropped like a stone, trusting him.

  A nanosecond later, half a dozen spears of ice shot through the air, piercing the second agent that had been gunning for Jason. They all found their mark.

  The impaled agent, a tall, slender man in a black suit and tie, turned and stared at us in disbelief. He coughed once, a bubble of blood forming on his lips, and fell to the ground, dead.

  The whole altercation had taken less than ten seconds.

  Nick rushed over and helped me to my feet. I noticed that the ball of liquid he had ripped from the Earth agent was gone. I assumed that he had used it to take out the other agent, and shivered in disgust.

  “You good?” he asked.

  I nodded. We turned simultaneously to the downed agent I had crippled. Sickened by what I had to do, but understanding that a ruined knee wouldn’t prevent this man hurting anyone—not when he could do magic—I exerted my will, and pulled the air from his lungs. Nick gripped my shoulder in understanding, then stepped over to the agent, and kicked him in the side of the head.

  “He won’t suffer this way,” he told me. I nodded again, glad that he had thought of it. Then I held on to the vacuum I had made, until I was sure that he wouldn’t get up again.

  The grisly work done, we started to move toward Jason’s last position. The wind had dropped significantly, and I hadn’t felt an earthquake since Nick had disposed of that woman. Jason had likely gotten one or two of them at least, which left four or five agents at most to deal with.

  We reached the center of the room, and found the remains of the fight that had raged there, however brief it might have been. The floor was scorched black in all directions. Down one of the aisles, I saw the charred corpse of one of the Unfocused. There was no sign of Jason.

  “Shit,” I grumbled.

  “Look, they’ve got to know we’re here by now,” Nick said over the wind. “Let’s just scream for him.”

  “No, that’s stupid. They’ll find us right away.”

  “Well, what if we—“

  And that was when an elephant crashed through the flimsy bay doors.

  Chapter Seven

  “JESUS!”
Nick screamed.

  I didn’t know much about elephants except that they were large, afraid of mice, and had great memories. I’m not sure how they normally behave, but this one seemed rather pissed off. The elephant came charging through the warehouse, drawing attention from everyone still standing. Shouts broke out from every direction, and I heard clattering footsteps over the wind and trumpeting from the elephant’s trunk.

  I grinned. My boyfriend was back.

  Relief washed over me in a sudden wave. I hadn’t even realized how worried I had been that something had happened to him. A weight that had settled in my stomach sometime over the past hour dissolved, and I felt almost giddy.

  Jason evidently took advantage of the distraction, as another gout of flame lanced through the darkness, a roaring fire that almost drowned out the scream of the agent caught within it.

  Almost.

  “Come on. Let’s get over there,” I told Nick. He nodded. We moved.

  Rick continued to thrash wildly, pushing shipping containers over, scattering them, and generally wreaking havoc. Nick’s arms pumped as he ran, but he was gasping for breath. He wasn’t in particularly good shape. His glasses flapped with every lunging step he took, and I noticed that the lenses had acquired a layer of fog. Must’ve been from the temperature fluctuations between his ice spears and Jason’s flamethrower routine.

  The whole situation struck me as hilarious, and I heard myself laughing madly as we ran.

  We rounded a corner, and almost collided with Jason as he was preparing another blast of fire.

  “JASON!” I cried in relief. Nick drew up short, doubled over as he gasped for air.

  “Ms. Tress,” he said casually. “Must we always meet this way?”

  I grinned.

  Jason Butler appeared exactly how you would expect a grizzled combat veteran to look. He was tall, somewhere just over six feet, and built solidly (though not as heavily muscled as Rick). He was dressed in sturdy-looking denim clothes, his shirt sleeves rolled up, with a baseball cap on his head. A webbed combat belt was slung across his hips. Instead of guns and ammunition, it appeared to carry nothing but road flares. Every inch of exposed skin seemed to have some kind of scar, including a particularly jagged one that crossed his nose and cheek before terminating below his left ear. It looked like it had been made from a serrated blade.