Son of Sam (The Last Scribe Prequels Book 4)

by R. Lee Walsh

  He blinks in surprise, gasping for air. “Nuh uh,” he wheezes, his pierced face turning crimson.

  Sighing, I reach down to help him up. When he stands on his feet, I give him room, watching as he dusts debris off his arm. Tall and whip thin, he looks like he could use a good meal and I happen to be down several thousand followers. Reaching into my breast pocket, I pull out one of my cards. He eyes it suspiciously, then takes it by the edge.

  “You ever want to learn a useful skill, give me a call,” I say, getting into my vehicle. He watches me with wide brown eyes, saying nothing.

  As Nell pulls out, in the rear view mirror I see him pick his skateboard out of the gutter, pocketing my card. Something about him seems vaguely familiar.

  “What was that about?” Nell asks, watching him in the rearview herself.

  “Respect,” I reply.

  She raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment. When we stop at a light she turns toward me. “So where to now?”

  “The bus depot. I want to go over every inch of it myself. Tell the others to meet us there in a half hour.

  ~Eight~

  6:30 p.m.

  The bus depot in any city operates much like the ocean--the tide continually rolls in and slowly moves out bringing a diverse cross section of humanity with it. In larger cities such as this one, the homeless mill about, seeking temporary shelter from the elements. Desperate souls mingle with weary travelers, all of them slightly on edge. In the five minutes we've been standing here watching passengers arrive, the middle-aged woman in the ticket booth has caught my attention. Even though several customers are waiting in line she has her back turned, complaining loudly about the “lowlifes” around here to whomever's on her cell phone. A recent recruit in my organization, she's obviously not taken our rules of conduct seriously.

  “Want me to bang on the window?” Nell asks, following my gaze.

  “Wait here,” I mutter, strolling toward the growing queue. An elderly woman in a dirty red stocking cap gets into line ahead of me, clutching a paper shopping bag to her chest. Ignoring the line, I approach the window and lean in close to the glass.

  “Excuse me,” I say barely above a whisper. The woman jerks and spins around. “I believe these good people are waiting to be helped.”

  Fumbling to shut off her phone, she nods briefly then takes a step toward the window. I lean slightly closer, my gaze locked on hers, telepathically displaying an image. All NG members have undergone hypnotic programming and each mind's attuned to my slightest suggestion. She blinks repeatedly and swallows once, her eyes welling up.

  I turn and smile at the people waiting, then walk back over to Nell. The line at the ticket window starts moving and the people waiting eye us curiously. “Alright, so where were we?” I ask.

  “You were saying we needed one of Thorn's people to wait by the doors, in case there's a problem with the cops.”

  “And let's get a wire tap on all the pay phones. If she makes a call I need to know where and to whom.”

  “Already covered. The station lines as well.”

  “That's my Nell,” I smile. “Always thinking ahead.”

  “Not that she'll make it out of the building, but what about taxi drivers?” she asks.

  “Good point. Who do we have?”

  “I'll coordinate with Thorn. I know we have at least a couple.”

  Looking up at the security cameras, I frown. “While we're here, let's get the tech knocked out.”

  “Our guy's on it, but we need to wait until after business hours. We don't want repair people showing up until tomorrow morning.”

  “Fine, but I'm counting on you to follow up. The last thing we need is to have the whole thing show up on YouTube.”

  “You still want the helicopters?”

  “Unless I say different, all teams are still a go.”

  She sighs, crossing her arms over her chest. “Seems like an awful lot of manpower for one girl.”

  I open my mouth to respond, then think better of it. No one outside myself and The Powers know what my girl is truly capable of. It's too much temptation for lesser beings and we don't need anyone getting ideas. “Also, I want one of our people on every block within a one-mile radius.”

  Her eyes widen but she nods. “Anything else?”

  I run through every possible scenario making a mental list. “I'll let you know.”

  She raises her chin toward a couple homeless looking men who just walked in. I recognize them as two of Thorn's best people. “Jorge and Hawk are here. I'll make sure they're set before we leave.”

  “I'll meet you outside,” I say, acknowledging the two with a meaningful glance. “I think I'll do one last walk around the block.”

  Exiting the depot I pull my sunglasses from my pocket, then begin another detailed inspection of the area. Looking for possible escape routes and hiding places, by the time I make my way to where the SUV's parked, Nell's there waiting for me.

  “All set,” she says unlocking the vehicle. “You wanna get something to eat?”

  “Not hungry.”

  Sighing, she starts the car and glances in the rearview mirror.

  “Fine,” I concede. We have plenty of time and she's been quite resourceful these past weeks. A small reward would not be out of order. “Let's do El Gaucho. I could use a good steak.” Smiling at that, she begins to pull out, glancing in the rearview mirror.

  “Huh. There's that skateboarder again.”

  Turning around, I see the flash of neon blue hair as the boy glides past the front of the depot. He carefully weaves his way through people walking down the street. I watch until he disappears around the corner, once again thinking he seems familiar. I never forget a face, so perhaps he's been to one of my rallies. Mulling it over I turn back around as Nell slams on the brakes. A derelict female with an overflowing shopping cart has just walked out in front our vehicle. Nell lays on the horn while yelling expletives, only be given the finger.

  “I hate this area,” she fumes as the woman hobbles slowly past, ignoring us. “I swear half the population of downtown are vagrants.”

  “Yes, but once my clean up initiative is approved by the city council, the homeless will either become functioning members of the New Generation or simply disappear. Who knows? That woman could become a valuable asset to us in the future.”

  “Asset,” she mutters, shaking her head. “I guess that's where we differ. Where I see trash you see treasure.”

  “Waste not, want not,” I scold. “Besides, recycling is a religion in this city. We're merely being environmentally conscious citizens.”

  Nell chuckles and moments later we pull up in front of El Gaucho, the most expensive steak house in town. The valet rushes forward to open our doors and Nell nods toward a young man and woman lounging on the sidewalk not twenty feet from the entrance. A ratty sleeping bag is draped over their legs and a handwritten piece of cardboard reads 'Leftovers welcome.'

  “Maybe that should be our motto too,” Nell grins.

  While I've enjoyed our banter this evening, she's perilously close to something that sounds like mockery. As the valet drives away and I open the restaurant door, I stare at her pointedly. My telepathic message is met with a slight twitch of her cheek and her face pales slightly. Clearing her throat, she steps cautiously through the entrance ahead of me, once again clear about who's truly in charge here.

  ~Nine~

  9:45 p.m.

  After our meal as we're leaving the restaurant, Nell gets a phone call. Covering her other ear, she motions for me to go ahead to the car. The valet pulls up and I'm buckling my seatbelt as Nell slides into the driver's seat. “That was our tech guy. The monitors have been cut at the depot and the phone taps are now live. Everything seems to be on schedule.”

  “Excellent. How about our friends on the police force?”

  “Staying clear of this area until morning. This would be the perfect night for a crime spree.”

  Frowning, I stare at her. “No cr
imes will be committed in this area on my watch and anyone who dares to use this as an excuse to break the law tonight will answer to me.”

  “I didn't mean to suggest--”

  “I know what you meant but our standing in the community depends on setting an example. While our methods may be unorthodox, our goals are for the ultimate good of all.”

  “Yes sir,” she nods. “I apologize for being flippant.”

  Sighing, I motion for her to start driving. “It's a stressful night and we're both on edge. Drop me off at my place so I can change and take a shower. You can pick me up at eleven.”

  She eyes me briefly as she pulls away from the curb. “No uniform?”

  “You only get one chance to make a first impression,” I reply, staring out the window. “She's scared out of her mind and I need to appear as non-threatening as possible.”

  “I'm sure it'll be fine, sir. I've yet to see a human who was immune to your charms.”

  “There's always a first,” I say, remembering Paula Temple and Elizabeth Matthews. For whatever reason they were both immune--which reminds me of the bottle Thorn gave me earlier. If one teaspoon is supposed to do the trick, I'll use two.

  When Nell pulls up to the security gate at my house, I stop her from driving through. “I'll walk from here. I need some fresh air.”

  She nods, handing me Thorn's bottle from the console between the seats and a plastic baggie that contains a micro earpiece. “Barker said this is ready to go. Just put it in your ear and you can hear what's going on from each of the teams.”

  “Eleven o'clock,” I say, shutting the door.

  Watching the SUV drive away, I take a deep breath. Gazing up at the night sky I trace the constellations, squinting against the lights of the city. Just above the northern horizon, the star I seek twinkles faintly. “Soon, my love,” I whisper aloud. “Tonight is just the beginning.”

  Turning to the security camera, I wave briefly. The massive wrought iron gate lumbers open without a sound. I walk toward the lights of my house, imagining how our first conversation will go.

  I've watched her from afar, of course. I know everything there is to know about her life. She'll be exhausted and especially skittish after her week-long cross-country journey so I'll need to portray someone she can not only respect, but trust.

  “Would you look at those stars,” I hear from my front steps, the familiar voice startling me. A shadow moves and there she is--the red haired traitor who dared to defy me. She stands just outside my reach, her celery green eyes glowing in the dark.

  “Tired of losers already?” I ask.

  “I left you, didn't I?”

  I tilt my head to the side, scenting the night air. As far as I can tell, she's alone. She watches me without reaction, her demeanor alert, yet unafraid. I have plans for her once this is all over. Oh, the plans I've made for this one.

  “You've got balls, I'll give you that,” I say finally. “What do you want?”

  She sighs, crossing her arms over her chest. “So so many things, but what I want is irrelevant. I'm here to talk about what you want.”

  “Which is?”

  She raises one eyebrow. “And also to remind you of certain facts in case you've forgotten.”

  “I'm well aware of the facts, traitor.”

  She stares at me, her eyes like neon green fire. “Then you know her true power is still dormant. She has no idea who she is or what she's destined to do. The prophecy says the gifts cannot be coerced, so if you harm or manipulate her in any way, they're lost.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Funny, you should bring that up. It works both ways, you know. You might want to remind my brother of that when you see him.”

  “Yuri's gone. No one's seen him since he made his decision and besides, he would never do anything to hurt her. You, on the other hand. . .”

  It's been so long since I've heard my brother called anything but Scepter, it gives me pause. “What's your point?”

  She clenches her jaw and stares at me. I see a host of emotions parading behind her luminous eyes. “Don't you want to know if it's true? The things they say she can do?” There's a hint of desperation in her tone. “What if she really can change the future? Not just for humans, but for all of us?”

  I'm counting on it.

  “If you're referring to some utopian ideal where everyone lives in peace and harmony then you're a fool. Someone has to take charge or it'll be chaos. The strongest will always rise to the top.”

  Her expression turns hard and she shakes her head. “You're not the strongest.”

  “If that's true, why come here?”

  “To give you one last chance to stop this war. You can't win. Innocent people are going to get hurt and for what? Revenge? Your ego? It doesn't have to end this way.”

  “Tell you what,” I say pursing my lips. “You tell Storm or whoever's in charge these days I'll surrender the moment after he does.”

  She opens her mouth to respond as my front door opens and we both turn to see my security guard, Stanley, step out. He's holding a white cup of coffee. “Sir?” he asks, peering into the dark. “Everything alright?”

  As a human he can't see her unless she chooses to be visible. A brief gust of wind makes the dead leaves dance on my porch and by the time I turn back she's gone.

  ~Ten~

  10:55 p.m

  I watch Nell drive up to the house from my upstairs window, taking one last glance in the mirror. I've carefully chosen my clothes to appear affluent, yet young and approachable. Thorn's remedy is the finishing touch and I take two teaspoons quickly. Gagging at the musky taste, I wash it down with a swig of Cabernet then pop a handful of mints in my mouth.

  “Be right down,” I call out to Nell.

  Washing my hands in case a drop of that vile liquid dripped on me, I cringe at the thought of having to take it daily. I'll need to ask Thorn if it can be diluted with something more palatable. Like gasoline.

  When I come downstairs, I find Nell waiting at the front door, her expression carefully neutral. Stopping in front of her, I clear my throat. “Well? How do I look?”

  She blinks, then looks me over briefly. “Very nice, sir.”

  I stare at her. “Very nice? That's it?”

  Her brows furrow. “I'm not sure what you want me to say.”

  “Well, do I look approachable? Non-threatening?”

  She looks me over again. “This is Portland, sir. It's pretty casual.”

  Looking down at my shiny Italian leather loafers, I frown. “Tennis shoes, maybe?”

  “If you have them.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Maybe a different jacket?”

  I frown. “This is Armani.”

  “Oh, well, then it's fine,” she says, her cheeks pinking.

  “I have a leather bomber. It's still Armani, but more casual.”

  She swallows, staring down at her feet. “I'd pick that.”

  Glancing at myself in the hall mirror, I nod. “Wait here.”

  Two minutes later we exit the house and I wave at Stanley as we get into the vehicle. According to my watch it's 11:03.

  “What's the word?” I ask, as we pull out of the driveway.

  “We're all set. The bus is on time and scheduled to pull in at 3:19.”

  She hands me a detailed checklist she's prepared and I peruse each item. She may not be much to look at but she's invaluable at times like these.

  “You want me to drop you at the station?” she asks.

  “Let's do a quick inspection first. Drive around the neighborhood so I can make sure everyone's in place. I'm not doubting your word, but you know how lazy people can—”

  A high-pitched squealing noise drowns out my voice and a split second later I'm forcefully shoved into the back seat. Nell screams and I yank her from the driver's seat with supernatural speed as the front end of a Ford Truck pushes through the windshield of the SUV. Coming to a stop mere centimeters from my face, I shout for Nell to climb out th
e back. Scrambling backward, she slides over the backseat, fumbling with the rear hatch.

  “Quickly!” I roar. She pushes the cargo door open and falls out onto the pavement with me right behind her. Before I can get my feet under me, a fiery blast shoves me to the ground. Grasping for purchase, I try to crawl away from the inferno as Nell cries out to me for help. I look up to see her red-faced and gasping with Peach's hands around her throat.

  “Stop!” I yell and Peach turns, the potency of her rage engulfing me. It's been so long since I've faced an Irin in full glory, I'd nearly forgotten the terrible beauty of their power.

  “I offered you a chance to stop it,” she says, each syllable ringing through air like thunder. Nell stares at me, her eyes wild in terror, begging me to do something. Even as an immortal, she's no match for a pure blooded Irin.

  “Go ahead and kill her,” I say, dusting off my hands. “I have a thousand more just like her.”

  There's a sudden loud hum and crackling near my head. Wincing, I turn to see a Flaming Sword only inches from my face. “What an inspirational leader you are,” Riley observes dryly. “It's a wonder you're not overrun with new followers.”

  “Who says I'm not,” I say, staring pointedly at Peach. “Besides, you can't kill me. The prophecy says--”

  “To hell with the prophecy,” Riley interrupts, tapping me on the shoulder with the sword. An excruciating jolt of electricity rips through my entire being, repeatedly pulsing stronger. If I could open my mouth I'd scream in agony, but I'm unable to make a sound. When darkness finally overtakes me, I fall gratefully into its arms.

  ~ Eleven~

  3:05 a.m

  “Hey Mister,” a male voice says and I feel a sharp kick in my side. A second voice snickers and I feel some kind of liquid being poured on my head. “Wake up, loser.”

  My left side feels like it's on fire and I open my eyes carefully. Squinting, I see nothing but darkness, then a leering face looms over me.