Chaos (Book 4) (The Omega Group)

by Andrea Domanski

  As though to punctuate the statement, three inky figures emerged from the shadows. A quick glance to his left showed three more, with the possibility of others remaining hidden.

  “Can you call in some cover? There are a lot of people close by,” Orano yelled.

  “Give me”—Phoenix pushed the latest victim of his expertly wielded baton to the ground—“a minute.”

  Orano looked over his shoulder at Gracey, who’d given up pounding on the door. Her eyes glistened in fear as they darted from one group of attackers to the next. So far, she’d been unhurt. Orano intended to keep it that way.

  “They’re on their way,” Phoenix said.

  “Tell them to hurry,” Orano retorted after kicking the switchblade-wielding amateur in the gut when he tried to get up and rejoin the fight.

  Before the words left his mouth, the rumble of hundreds of beating wings filled the air. Orano glanced upward expecting to see stars but was instead greeted by an undulating blanket of little feather-covered bodies, each weaving an intertwining pattern with the others. His partner had used his connection with the bird to call in the rest of its flock.

  “We’re concealed,” Phoenix said.

  “Get behind me.” Orano turned to Gracey. “Cover your eyes,” he commanded.

  “What? Why?” she asked.

  “Just do it!” He put as much authority into his voice as he could.

  When she complied, Orano shot his hands outward. The darkness was immediately replaced by a spreading flash of blinding light, as Orano pushed a halo of electrical energy in an ever-growing arc around them. The ring of current slammed into the nearest assailants, igniting their central nervous systems until they collapsed, before continuing on its way to the next victims. When the radius of energy reached the far corners of the alley, Orano closed his hands into tight fists, cutting off the stream at its source.

  Darkness immediately enveloped them, this time even more complete, as their pupils had yet to dilate in compensation for the sudden lack of light. The raucous beating of wings slowly receded as their living camouflage dispersed into the night sky.

  “Is everyone all right?” Orano asked.

  “We’re good,” Phoenix answered. “I can’t say the same for our clothes, though.”

  Orano looked down and found not blood spattering his shirt and pants, but dozens of oily white bird droppings. “Really?”

  Phoenix shrugged his shoulders innocently. “It’s a trade-off.”

  “What the hell was that?” Gracey took in the scene around them.

  As his eyes began to adjust, Orano understood the fear in her voice. Bodies littered the small alleyway, most still twitching from the jolt of electricity.

  “Don’t worry, they’re not dead. We just hit them with Tasers,” Phoenix said with his usual calm confidence, conveniently forgetting to mention the ones that probably were dead.

  Orano reached around her and pulled on the restaurant’s door. As he’d expected, it opened easily. “You still want to leave?” he asked Phoenix.

  “Hell no. This just got fun.”

  ********

  Tori stared in disbelief as the image once again appeared in the mirror. Just when things were getting interesting, a flock of birds obscured her view. They were there mere moments, but apparently that was long enough. Every gang member had been incapacitated by … what? A flash bang grenade? Her only hint was an explosion of light originating below the throng of birds.

  “What the hell happened?” Liza, her second in command, asked. “I felt that energy when it hit our barrier. We all did.”

  The other women nodded their agreement before looking to Tori for answers.

  “They must have brought some sort of weapon. A flash bang grenade, maybe,” Tori said.

  “Who brings a flash bang grenade to dinner?” Liza asked incredulously.

  “I don’t know.” Tori’s disappointment quickly turned to anger, and she lashed out by hurling one of the gang member’s totems against the wall, almost knocking her Hans Baldung print to the floor. “You saw the same thing I did. Do you have any better ideas?”

  Liza slowly shook her head. “No, I …” Her voice trailed off as though she’d lost the thought. “What if it wasn’t a weapon at all? What if they’re like us?”

  “You think they’re warlocks?” Tori laughed in disbelief. “No. Your imagination is working overtime. Remember, when you hear hoof beats, think horses not zebras.”

  “That’s what I’m doing, Tori. Think about it. No one would bring a weapon like that to dinner. And all those birds blocking our view at that exact moment? Grace must have asked some other coven for help. It’s the only explanation that fits.”

  Liza’s excitement seemed to be spreading. All three of the women started yammering about the possibility of the two government men actually being warlocks. Tori had to admit that it wasn’t as much of a stretch as she’d first thought.

  “Okay, if they’ve got magic, that changes things,” Tori got up and stepped over to the sole piece of art she’d hung in the room, straightening the frame. The print, a copy of a woodcut impression over four hundred years old entitled Witches’ Sabbath, depicted five witches in the midst of casting a spell. Although the artist intended the piece to be sinister, Tori always saw it as beautiful.

  “Should we cancel the next demonstration? Maybe lay low until the big event?” Liza asked.

  Tori tapped a pencil on the corner of her desk as she thought. It might be smart to do just that, but they still needed to recruit more covens. The Diablo Canyon blackout worked perfectly—and attracted several covens to their cause—but even with that extra power, directing the largest solar storm in recorded history would be difficult.

  “No, we need the rest of the European covens on board, and that won’t happen unless we show them what we can do.” Tori stood to emphasize her point.

  “We blacked out a nuclear power plant with all of its redundant back-up systems, for God’s sake. What more do they want?” Liza’s frustration became apparent.

  “Something bigger,” Tori replied. “And with the additional power from the new covens, we can give it to them.”

  Chapter 7

  “You’re on speaker, Julian.” Orano set his phone on the small table next to the hotel room’s window.

  The Omega Group’s computer genius skipped the preamble and got right to the point, his voice tinny through the small speakers. “Solar activity runs in cycles of about eleven years. Right now, we’re at the height of that cycle, where activity is most violent. There’s an enormous sunspot, way bigger than the one that caused the storm in 1989 that blacked out Quebec. Solar flares are virtually guaranteed.”

  “And those flares are expected to cause more blackouts?” Phoenix asked.

  “No. In fact flares aren’t the real problem. The CMEs are.”

  Orano waited for Julian to continue but, as usual, the genius required some prodding. “Let’s just assume that we have no idea what you’re talking about. Can you please give us the Reader’s Digest version?”

  “Okay. A CME, or Coronal Mass Ejection, is an eruption on the sun’s surface. It shoots a billion tons of plasma into space at almost the speed of light. Normally, they don’t come anywhere near Earth, but once in a while we get a direct, or almost direct hit. That’s when things go crazy.” Julian sounded like one of those nutty professors who got too excited about his lecture while his students fell asleep.

  “What kind of crazy are you talking about?” Orano asked.

  “When a CME hits our atmosphere, it causes a geomagnetic storm which basically restructures the Earth’s magnetic field. The magnetic activity and electric currents can disrupt satellites, telecommunications, power grids—pretty much anything that uses electricity. Have you guys heard of the Carrington Event?”

  Orano glanced at Phoenix then Gracey. Both wore blank expressions. “No. What is it?”

  “Only the largest and most powerful geomagnetic storm ever recorded. In 18
59, Earth took a direct hit from a huge CME. Telegraph networks were destroyed worldwide and operators were electrocuted even with the network’s power shut off.”

  “That doesn’t sound all that bad,” Phoenix said.

  “Are you kidding?” Julian yelled through the phone. “If that kind of hit happened today, a time when the entire world runs on electricity and is completely interconnected, it would be catastrophic. Imagine a world where all electrical systems are gone in a matter of hours.”

  “Oh my God,” Gracey whispered. “When she temporarily shut down the nuclear plant, I assumed she’d been trying the magic out, like a test drive. I called Robert because I thought she was planning on doing it for real the next time—causing a core melt down. I had no idea she would do something of this magnitude.”

  “I don’t think she can,” Julian answered. “There’s no way anyone or anything has enough power—even the supernatural kind—to create a CME.”

  Gracey didn’t look convinced. She’d chewed her fingernails to the point of drawing blood and, once again, Orano reflexively reached out to pull her hand away from her mouth.

  “We’re working under the possibility that the coven operating here had something to do with the flare that caused the blackout in California,” Orano said. “If that’s the case, then their endgame has to be even bigger.”

  “Maybe, but maybe not,” Julian responded. “What if California was their endgame?”

  “If they’d already accomplished their goal, then Gracey wouldn’t be a target,” Phoenix said. “They’d have no reason to try to discredit her, not to mention the attack on all three of us earlier tonight. No, they’ve got something else planned.”

  Their conversation got interrupted by the theme song from Harry Potter. A blush crossed Gracey’s cheeks as she reached for her cell phone. Her jaw dropped when she read the caller ID. “It’s Tori.”

  “Julian, we’ll call you back.” Orano pressed the end button on his phone and gave instructions to Gracey. “Put it on speaker. Keep your voice as normal as possible. We don’t want to tip our hand.”

  Gracey nodded, then answered. “Hello?” She sounded tentative, but that could easily be attributed to spending time in a mental institution.

  “Gracey! It’s so good to hear your voice. You left the shop so quickly yesterday that we didn’t have a chance to talk. I’ve been worried about you. I just heard about your recent struggles and wanted to check in. Are you okay?” Tori’s voice dripped with sweetness.

  Before she answered, Gracey took a breath and shook her head, as though ridding her brain of cobwebs. “I’m doing great, Tori. Thanks for asking.”

  “Oh, I’m thrilled to hear it. Look, I’m having a backyard barbecue at my house tomorrow for some friends from the coven. I’d love it if you could come. That is, if you’re feeling up to it.”

  “Um,” Gracey’s eyes widened as she waited for instructions from Orano.

  He covered the phone’s microphone with his thumb and whispered, “Tell her you have guests. Try to get her to invite us as well.”

  Gracey nodded. “I’m not sure, Tori. I have some friends here for a few days and I’d hate to leave them alone.”

  “Then bring them. The more the merrier. I won’t take no for an answer. I’ll see you and your friends tomorrow around four.”

  The line went dead, but Gracey continued to stare at the phone. “This is going to be bad, isn’t it?”

  Phoenix wrapped his arm around her, gently squeezing her shoulder. “She’s planning something, that’s for sure. But so are we.”

  “We are? Okay, good. I think.” A yawn interrupted Gracey’s ramblings and quickly spread throughout the group. “It’s been a long day. If it’s all right with you guys, I’m going to head to bed.”

  Orano stood. “I’ll join you.” The shocked look on both Gracey’s and Phoenix’s faces had him sputtering out a clarification. “Not like that. I just meant that I’m going to bed, too. In the same room, but by myself.” Before he could embarrass himself anymore, he opened the door and held it for Gracey.

  Phoenix got in one last dig as they left the room. “Gracey, if you get bored with your roommate, I’m right next door.”

  The blush that covered her cheeks in response bothered Orano more than the comment itself. He glared at Phoenix before slamming the door on yet another one of his partner’s wry grins.

  Orano’s chest tightened as they entered their room. “Which bed do you want?” he asked.

  “I’ll take the one by the window. I like to see the stars at night.” Gracey plopped her suitcase on the bed and grabbed her nightclothes. “I’ll be right back.”

  As he watched her enter the bathroom and close the door, Orano let out a long breath. His nerves were getting the better of him. When he looked at Gracey, he saw his childhood friend. The girl who’d driven him crazy by breaking through his well-honed gruff exterior. The girl who never let him retreat from her, even when being his friend caused her trouble. The girl who’d given him his first kiss.

  “Something wrong, Sparkles?” she asked as she exited the bathroom wearing a huge T-shirt and shorts.

  The girl who’d nicknamed him Sparkles.

  “No, and can you please not call me that?” Orano grumbled.

  “No can do, Sparkles. You’re stuck with that one for life.” Gracey laughed.

  Orano grabbed his bag and stomped off to the bathroom to get himself ready for bed. The memory of the day she’d given him that name flooded his thoughts.

  It had been his least favorite day of the year during middle school. The day all of the students brought their fathers to school and introduced them to the class. Since Orano didn’t have a father—at least not one he’d ever met—he sat alone and endured the smirks from his classmates. By the time lunch break came around, he’d had about all he could take.

  Instead of heading outside to eat with the other kids where he would no doubt have been tortured even more, Orano grabbed his lunch box and snuck into an empty classroom to eat in peace. Mrs. Greer, his seventh grade art teacher, always left her room unlocked at lunch, so it quickly became his secret hideaway. That day, however, it didn’t offer the quiet it usually did. He could hear his classmates laugh and play with their fathers through the open window.

  Grinding his teeth in anger, Orano sat on the floor trying to ignore the sounds. He pulled out his lunch and tore through it as though he hadn’t eaten in days. When he finished, he dutifully picked up the empty wrappers and tinfoil to throw them in the trashcan. One piece, however, drew his eye. The yellow Post-It must have been hidden in his lunch box, and he’d missed it in his haste. He uncrumpled the note and read his mother’s words.

  Darling, don’t let them get to you. They’re not worth it. I love you!

  His anger quickly turned to guilt as he thought of his mom. Even though he’d never mentioned the day’s planned activities to her, she’d known anyway and tried to make him feel better. He’d been so miserable about not having a father to bring to school, that he’d ignored what he did have. A mother who loved him.

  After pressing the note against his pants in an effort to remove the creases, he carefully placed it back inside his lunch box. She was right. They weren’t worth it. He would deal with that day like he dealt with all others—with strength and courage. Just like his mom taught him.

  The calm that came over him after reading his mother’s words didn’t last very long. Some of the boys in his class were playing kickball outside the open window, and their conversation set Orano’s blood to boil.

  “Did you see him sitting there? What a dork.”

  “I heard his dad left before he was even born because he didn’t want him.”

  “No, I heard that his mom had so many boyfriends, she doesn’t even know who his father is.”

  Orano clenched his fists. He’d heard those words before, but on that day they were more than he could bear. As he reached for his lunchbox, the rubber ball being kicked by the boys outside
flew through the window, crashing into Mrs. Greer’s art supplies on a nearby table. He heard the boys curse before running away so as not to get caught.

  Broken glass lay all around Orano, along with splattered paint and several markers. When he reached out to clean up the mess he would no doubt be blamed for, the sun streaming in through the windows reflected off his arm in a thousand tiny prisms.

  The jar smashed by the kickball had been full of glitter, and it now covered Orano from head to toe. He swiped at his arms and shirt, desperate to remove the glimmering stuff before being forced to rejoin his tormentors in class. They would never let him hear the end of it if they saw him like this. No matter how hard he tried, though, the glitter remained. His day was about to get even worse.

  The door behind him opened, and Orano readied himself for the chastising he would surely get from Mrs. Greer. But none came.

  “What happened?” a sweet voice asked.

  Orano turned around to see a tiny girl with red pigtails standing in the open doorway, eyes wide.

  “Nothing,” he growled, still trying to wipe himself clean.

  Ignoring his hostile tone, the girl skipped over to him. “You’re never going to get glitter off like that, silly. Come here.” She grabbed a roll of packing tape from the teacher’s desk, tore off a long piece, and wrapped it around her hand. When she patted his arm, the glitter stuck to the tape, leaving nothing behind.

  Orano quickly snatched more tape and copied the girl’s actions. Within a few minutes, his skin and clothing were clean.

  “See? Easy as pie. My name’s Gracey, by the way.” She reached out her hand and waited patiently for him to respond.

  “I’m Orano,” he said as he shook her hand. “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” Gracey’s smile beamed brighter than the glitter. “This is my first day. You wanna be friends?”

  Orano, dumbfounded that someone actually wanted to be his friend, just stared at her.

  “You don’t talk much, do you? No matter, I talk enough for the two of us. At least, that’s what my mom always says. Anyway, I need to get to my locker. The bell’s going to ring soon and I don’t even know where I’m supposed to go next. This place is so confusing. I’ll meet you at the front doors after school so we can walk home together. See you then.”