Phantom Legacy

by T. C. Edge

  Then she saw it - Tanner, on the ground; Mikel, a blur of ferocious black, on top of him. Through the rain she saw red, blood pouring and joining the clear water. It was on Tanner’s face, streaming from deep gashes, his hands held up and trying to shield from Mikel’s ripping fingers, his slashing nails.

  His helmet had been torn off…and his face had been torn up.

  Nadia fired, roaring, and Chloe and Ragan rushed on after her, all three of them hurrying to their friend. They saw Mikel, crouching low like a predator over its prey, lift suddenly into a standing position, wide, manic grin on his face, fangs sharp but bloodless.

  He moved suddenly to one side, avoiding Nadia’s gunfire; so calm and cool, so savage and cruel.

  And as the Southern Queen drew nearer, with the other two right behind, Mikel sank back into the storm, and zipped away in a flash.

  24

  Mikel hurried off into the gloom, hearing the shouts of panic and rage behind him. Gunshots whistled, filling the air, chasing him down. One might hit - it wasn’t impossible - but he had little fear of it. Within moments he was out of sight, sneaking off back into the recesses of some shadowy building.

  He turned to look back, peering through the mist. He could just about make out the bundle of black figures, one huddled low over another, knocked out on the floor, the two others looking in his direction, weapons raised…still firing aimlessly.

  Come on, he thought. Come after me. You know you want to…

  He lifted his hands, his fingers dripping with blood, skin and fragments of ragged flesh caught beneath his long, razor sharp nails. Like his fangs, they could be extended and retracted, a nice little embellishment of his creators.

  He lifted those fingers, tasting the blood. Tanner’s blood. Oh, he’d got what he deserved. He got what I promised him.

  A feeling of joy and triumph spread through Mikel’s body; not quite a match for that of a kill and feeding, but certainly close. He hadn’t wanted to feast on Tanner; no, his nanites weren’t to his liking. His wishes for that brute were to mangle him, maim him, destroy that handsome face. Oh, how good it had felt.

  He’d stalked the group as they’d retreated, waiting for the right time to strike. With Tanner retreating alone, Mikel had decided to take it. Flashing from the shadows, they’d engaged in a brief fight. It hadn’t lasted too long, not with the element of surprise to Mikel’s advantage. He sprung out, battered Tanner down, dragged off his helmet, and tore up that face. Slash after slash, gash after gash. Some of those were deep; deep enough to scratch bone. He doubted even Tanner’s nanites could fix that.

  But now he stood, waiting, wanting the rest to react. Tanner had served a purpose, and given him some pleasure, but he wasn’t the real goal here. He’d hope to draw the rest out, for them to come surging at him, enraged. He thought he’d done enough.

  But no…they weren’t moving. He could see them through the fog, still where they were. One appeared keen to follow, struggling to break free of another’s grip. The thrashing figure looked smaller - Chloe, or that Southern Queen - caught in a grip that must be Hunt’s.

  “Please,” Mikel whispered. “Let her go.”

  All of you…come to me.

  He stepped back out, moving slowly forward. He knew they could see him now, standing there, waiting. He knew how much Hunt wanted this. He knew they were here for him.

  So come…come to me.

  Get your revenge.

  Ragan held tight as Nadia struggled in his grasp. He could feel her every sinew trembling, every fibre of her body pulsing with rage. That was so unlike her. So unlike the calm, cool, collected girl from Texas, always smiling, always calming others down.

  Not now. She’d been consumed by hate at what she’d seen, forcing Ragan to be the one to keep a level head; to stop her from chasing after that faithless creature, lingering out there in the storm, when all he wanted to do was go rushing after him too.

  “It’s what he wants, Nadia,” Ragan was saying, pleading. “Don’t give him what he wants. He’s just trying to lure us away…”

  Nadia still thrashed, a clotted, desperate roar flooding from her throat. She writhed and wriggled for a few more moments, as if expelling her rage, before suddenly calming and falling still. Ragan didn’t loosen his grip for fear that she’d bolt.

  “I’m calm,” she said, voice simmering as she continued staring out. “It’s OK, I’m calm.”

  She turned her head down to Tanner, unconscious on the ground. Chloe was tentatively checking his cuts; many of them looked severe. One laceration crossed his right eye, slicing deep, blood still trickling freely from many wounds. His face had been utterly shredded.

  Ragan looked at him, properly, for the first time, and felt a devastating punch to his gut. His own rage swarmed and boiled, surging from somewhere deep. He tore his eyes away and sent them back out into the storm, to the murky black shadow still lurking out there. Memories of his past flooded his mind: of Mikel, feasting on his Panther brothers, almost doing the same with him. Of those fangs creeping into his neck, of that knife surging into his chest, moving inexorably for his heart.

  And now this, now Tanner. He looked again at his friend, face a pulp of red, and saw the tears begin to stream down Nadia’s face as she escaped Ragan’s grip and knelt down beside him, taken by shock and grief. Chloe looked up from her knees, eyes haunted but firm.

  “We need to get him back to the falcon, Ragan,” she said. “We can’t stay here.”

  Ragan looked down the street once more, back the way they’d come. Quinn’s men would soon be following. Some, if not all, had clearly been affected by the sensory grenade. That wouldn’t last forever.

  “Ragan!” said Chloe sharply, drawing his eyes. “If we stay here, we’ll all going to die.”

  Ragan felt his anger drain as he looked at her, those bright blue eyes a tonic. He began nodding, glancing back the other way. At Mikel, shadow still skulking.

  “You’re right,” he breathed. “You’re right. Keep watch.”

  He dropped right to his knees, pulling a thin device from his pocket. He slammed its pointed tip straight into Tanner’s neck, pumping him with drugs to wake him up. They needed him conscious. They needed him on his feet.

  Tanner was quick to stir, the dosage high. His good eye opened wide, teeth immediately bared in pain. An expression of utter agony, of anguish, visible through the blood and torn flesh, engulfed him. He began mumbling incoherently, shivering hands reaching for his face.

  Nadia reached out and gripped his hands, holding tight. She leaned in close, whispering softly through her tears.

  “It’s OK, sweetheart. It’s fine, you’re going to be fine.”

  Tanner’s remaining eye met hers, calming at the sight of her. She smiled as best she could.

  “We need to get out of here, Cliff,” she said slowly. “Can you get to your feet?”

  Tanner shut his left eye a moment, the other a bloodied mess, then nodded, looking dazed and confused. With Nadia at one arm, and Ragan at another, they lifted him up. He was unsteady, but kept himself together. Ragan gently stepped away, leaving him with only Nadia by his side.

  Down the street, Quinn’s men were stirring, voices floating across on the air. Ragan looked again in the direction of Mikel, his ghostly shape still lingering. He stared a moment, fists balling, knuckles whitening. He wanted more than anything to kill the vamp, hurt him like he had his friend. He wanted to unleash the full force of his vengeance upon him, end his pitiful existence. He wanted…

  A thought came again, something bigger than all this. He needed Mikel alive. He needed to take him in. He was right there, waiting. He had to go after him.

  He took a half step forward, but felt Chloe take his hand. He turned.

  “Don’t,” she said. “Please.”

  “I…I have to, Chloe,” he said. “I…

  Her expression changed, eyes narrowing. She turned suddenly off to look in Mikel’s direction. Ragan followed her eyes, searching
through the misty rain. The shadow, the wispy form in the gloom, was gone.

  “He’s leaving,” Chloe whispered. “He’s…escaping.”

  “Escaping? From who?”

  Chloe barely had time to answer. From the distance, off towards the war camp in the east, a force of soldiers were coming. Regular soldiers, with Panthers in their midst, drawn to the commotion, to the chattering gunfire. They were spreading quickly through the streets, some black-clad, others in regular fatigues, all moving in units with rifles to shoulders, helmets on, closing fast.

  Ragan searched once more for Mikel, for that blurred black shape, prowling in the shadows. There was nothing, no sign of him. Like a predator interrupted during the hunt, he’d fled. There would be no catching him now.

  He turned to the others, mind cranking right back into gear. He hurried to Tanner’s side, Nadia at the other, and quickly began moving off west. The sound of Quinn’s men, rushing from the south, cut off that retreat. They’d need to move round them, flank them, and then head south to the falcon.

  Beyond that, Ragan didn’t know.

  Everything had gone to hell.

  The group headed west, moving down the closest street they could find that led in that direction. Ragan and Nadia stayed at Tanner’s side, ready to assist should he stumble or fall. His face was so badly damaged; that right eye of his cut through, his left ever trying to blink away the blood, the rain, the desperate pain. He staggered, his pace slow, a stream of blood marking a trail behind him.

  Chloe ran at the back, seeing that trail form as it poured from his face, her rifle heavy, her mind equally so. Remus, up above them, stayed slightly behind now, keeping watch on their backs, alerting Chloe as anyone got near. Quinn’s unit was closing fast, enraged by losing two men, desperate to hunt them down. And beyond them, more soldiers were now coming, flooding the streets, a gathering storm of men to join the tempest above.

  They were too slow like this, far too slow…

  They veered down side streets, praying they weren’t blocked by fallen walls and rubble, Ragan urging the group on, stepping to Tanner’s side and hauling on his ailing body with a growing urgency.

  He glanced back at Chloe in alarm, and those eyes said it all - we’re going to get caught any moment at this rate. We need to go faster!

  The voices of Quinn’s men were near, Remus updating Chloe on their positions. She looked to the skies and cursed the storm. Her hands began to glow blue, nanites gathering, charging. It was a natural response when in danger, electricity fizzing and sparking, preparing to be unleashed. But here, under this deluge, that could be dangerous; it made her a conductor, attracting violent strikes from above.

  But maybe…

  She had a thought, a wild, dangerous thought. She rushed up to Ragan, grabbing his arm.

  “Keep going. I’m going to hold them back.”

  “What!”

  She lifted her hands, fizzing with electricity. Above, the skies seemed to churn in response, as if preparing to send a bolt right down upon them. She shut her fists, focusing hard to control the energy. She had to hold back the flow, keep it locked in, just simmering beneath the surface. And when the time came, let it explode.

  “Ragan, trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

  “No, Chloe! It’s too dangerous.”

  Chloe looked ahead. Nadia was now alone beside Tanner, the two still jogging on up the street. A side-street beckoned on the left, turning them south.

  Chloe took off again, running to catch up. Ragan followed, confused, the group quickly joining together once more. Chloe took the lead, heading for the side-road on the left, leading the team into it. She gazed forward, noting the path through was clear. The area had seen recent fighting, creating craters and hollows in the ground, now filling with murky rainwater. There were many of them, the street pockmarked and the ground unsteady.

  She turned back around. Quinn’s unit were speeding up the street now, just about in sight. Another minute or so and they’d be caught. And the rest - the soldiers and Panthers of the NDSA - weren’t far behind, Remus ever alerting her of their growing presence. There were so many of them, a hundred, more. They’d soon be swallowed up…

  “What are you doing!” questioned Ragan.

  Chloe looked up the side-street again.

  “Go, that way,” she said. “I’ll meet you at the top.”

  “What! No, I’m not leaving you.”

  Chloe’s hands buzzed louder, zips of silver electricity cracking through the gaps in her closed fingers. She drew a breath, holding back the storm in her palms.

  “Ragan,” she said, locking him with a defiant glare. “Go. I’ll meet you at the top.”

  She stared him down, and didn’t look away. Nadia and Tanner stood by, the latter’s head hanging limp on his neck, his posture weak, blood still flowing into the puddles. Ragan looked at them, then back at Chloe.

  He leaned in.

  “Don’t die,” he growled.

  She smiled.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Ragan nodded, rushing over to Tanner’s side, grabbing his arm as Nadia took the other. They headed quickly up the street, splashing through puddles, moving round the chunks of rubble and debris, the occasional car left abandoned down the road. Chloe watched them go a second, waiting for them to get a good distance away. Then she looked back to Quinn and his force of men, moving up the road in crouched postures, rifles preparing to fire.

  She didn’t move, not immediately, standing at the opening of the street. She needed to make absolutely sure that they’d seen her, that they’d follow her. She closed her hands tighter, sucked in a breath, calmed her fizzing fingers. Remus came sweeping down on mental command, moving into a better position to help track the movement of the men, and any gunfire they might send at her. She stood, tall and undaunted, against the force of eight men.

  And then the firing began.

  She moved, alerted by Remus, spinning off into the safety of the side-street. Bullets cracked loudly, chattering among the storm, snapping into the brick walls as she fled from sight. She hurried a little way up the street, eyes searching for the best spot to hide. She saw a car, overturned, burnt out, and hurried behind it and into cover. The pursuing men charged around the corner, entering the street, boots splashing into pools of water as they came.

  They were twenty metres away, and hurrying fast. With her back to the roof of the overturned car, Chloe shut her eyes, slowly filled her lungs with a full breath, and let the energy surge and boil in her palms. She watched, briefly, from Remus’ vantage as the men came, rushing towards her, slowing slightly as they entered the tighter street. Heads craned left and right, searching for her. She let them come near, ten metres away, and then opened her eyes wide.

  And opened her palms too.

  Fierce, violent sparks of silver and sapphire light danced and wreathed around her fingers. They cracked, sparking loudly, building and building, just aching to be unleashed. Chloe felt a tremble run through her, coming from the depths and spreading right to her palms. It built to a terrible crescendo, and then…she stepped out.

  Moving to the side, she took a pace out of cover, revealing herself to the men. They saw her, but too late. All stood still for a split second, feet in puddles, bodies drenched. They saw the glowing blue hands, the sparking light, a mesmerising show of colour and energy.

  Palms facing out, fingers tense, Chloe finally let loose the storm. The lightning burst out of her, speeding instantly for the sodden ground on which the men stood. It connected with the water, with the many standing puddles, and the entire street burst with a web of streaking white light, the tendrils of electricity reaching up from the floor and taking the men in its grasp.

  It ensnared them all, their bodies surrounded by white and blue sparks of energy. The reaction was immediate. Rifles were dropped from shivering hands, bodies convulsed and shook, faces contorted in pain. Chloe roared through it all, unloading her full ferocity. The dam had burs
t, and was difficult to plug, the force so strong when fully unleashed.

  She felt a warning from Remus, and instinctively looked to the skies. A light was gathering up there, faint lines of electricity showing through the thick grey clouds. Chloe felt a panic rush through her, and shut her hands tight, screaming as she did. It was like trying to crush rock with your bare hands, the flow of lightning so difficult to stem.

  Above, the true lightning continued to gather, far more devastating than her own. She stepped back, hands still shutting, and turned to see a doorway leading into an apartment block. She rushed towards it with all she had, sensing the impending attack from the heavens. She reached it, smashing hard with her shoulder, cracking the frame. It needed another go.

  She tried once more, hitting it hard, bursting through it just in time. She tumbled to the floor, hands now fading, as a terrible light swelled at the ground outside where she’d stood. It came from nowhere, meeting the earth with a crack that split open the skies, causing the car she’d been hiding behind to burst into a swarm of sparks. The thunder that followed was like the earth opened up, a deep, penetrating rumble that reverberated right through to her very core.

  She breathed, letting out the air she’d been holding, and looked to the opening. The ground still fizzed, sparks dissipating. She saw Remus buzz down through the door, losing his cloak temporarily. He fizzed himself, moving erratically with a nervous energy, rushing towards her and turning into a fluttering bird. He circled her once or twice, before reforming into a drone, calming, and moving back for the opening.

  Chloe got to her feet. There was no time to delay. She moved to the cracked doorway and stepped through, looking down the street the way she’d come. Quinn and his men were all on the floor, still now, silent. Chloe felt a terrible shame at the sight. She hoped they weren’t all dead…

  She tore her eyes from them, and looked the other way. Running hard, she continued to the end of the street, her energy waning. She stumbled out into a wider road to find Ragan waiting, the others a little way off, and still moving. He took her into his arms in a tight, desperate embrace.