Nighthawks (Children of Nostradamus Book 1)

by Flagg, Jeremy

  The others walked in front of him, oblivious to the masterpieces in their presence. He reached the rotunda at the top of the stairs, greeted by large marble sculptures of men holding spears. The titans lorded over him, threatening at any moment to break the silence with war cries or rallying Greek armies.

  “You’ve never been here before?”

  Conthan stared up to the stained glass dome covering the rotunda. The world outside was falling apart, decaying around them. In these walls, decay was a mark of triumph, an object’s determination to survive past its time. It wouldn’t be long before the building was reclaimed by nature.

  “No,” he muttered.

  Conthan caught Dwayne staring at him. Conthan noticed a hardness about the man. Physically he was a big softy, but something about his eyes and the clenched jaw made him seem tough. The scars on his neck and shoulders looked like a road map to a lethal destination. He was the leader in the field, barking orders to keep them all alive.

  Dav5d rested his hand on Conthan’s shoulder, startling him. “You studied art history? College?”

  Conthan was unnerved by the man. Dwayne assured him Dav5d wasn’t psychic, but his ability to read a person was frightening. Conthan nodded. “I studied at Parsons. I recognize the statues from textbooks.”

  “Your eyes were darting back and forth slowly enough so I knew your frontal lobe was processing the information. The amount of time that lapsed suggested it must be a memory.”

  Conthan walked around the rotunda. Dav5d’s abilities and social skills lacked Vanessa’s finesse. Where Vanessa could reach into his mind and pull at specific thoughts, with Dav5d it was his actions betraying him. He had close friends growing up, but every person kept secrets. It was becoming more and more apparent there would be no secrets between him and his newfound friends.

  “You get used to him,” Dwayne said. “For a human computer, he’s slowly learning to respect people’s personal boundaries. You’re just a new equation to him. Once he has you figured out he’ll leave you alone.”

  “So many parts of that sentence are wrong,” Conthan said, walking through a set of doors into a room filled from floor to ceiling with European masters.

  “You should see him with my sister. He’s still yet to figure her out.”

  “She’s a little…”—Conthan paused, seeing the change on Dwayne’s face—“…random?”

  “Smart man,” Dwayne said, patting him on the back.

  “Her predisposition for acts out of the ordinary could be attributed to a restructuring of her neural pathways during electroshock therapy.”

  “Shut it, Dave.”

  Conthan raised his eyebrows. The human computer reminded him of a kid in high school who suffered from an extreme case of Asperger’s. The kid had been a genius in math class, able to do things even the teacher had difficulty doing without a calculator. However, he had trouble expressing himself and more often than not would wind up yelling during conversations to make sure he was heard. He lacked the ability to read social situations. Dav5d was that kid on mental steroids. He put a mental pin in the conversation; he’d ask Dwayne about his sister at a later time when it was just the two of them.

  “We should get started.”

  “What exactly are we doing?” asked Conthan.

  “We’re going to slap some doohickeys on you and let Dav5d figure out how you work. I’m here for moral support while you learn to control your powers.”

  “I’ve used them once on my own.”

  Dav5d reached into his pocket and pulled out small transparent circles. “These will read biological signs as you access your powers. I will be able to figure out the stressors necessary for you to create these voids.”

  Conthan caught the expression on Dwayne’s lips. “Why are you smiling?”

  “I’m the stressor,” Dwayne said, flicking his palms open. Small sparks rained down to the floor below.

  “Oh shit,” Conthan groaned. “You’re all psychotic.”

  “Back up,” Dwayne said. “You’ll need a little breathing room.”

  Conthan took several steps backward as Dwayne did the same. The room was well over two hundred feet long. Conthan continued putting space between them. He knew they were going to test his powers. He didn’t think the senior member of this operation was going to hurl bolts of lightning at him for a warmup.

  “I want to go on record that you’re both assholes.”

  “I see why Skits likes him,” Dav5d said with an awkward grin.

  “She’s always been a fan of loudmouth men.”

  “Much like her brother.” Dav5d smiled at Dwayne, forcing the awkward expression until it seemed almost painful.

  “We need to work on your puns.”

  Dwayne pulled off his t-shirt, tossing it to the ground. Sparks continued to jump from his hands to his torso. He had done this with a dozen newly awakened Children before. This was the first time the person on the other end of the room had an ability more impressive than his own. He had spent the better part of a decade tackling the wild nature of his lightning. He hoped with some guidance, it wouldn’t take Conthan as many errors to get a grip.

  Dav5d pulled out a small silver ball. He let it go in the air and it began scanning Conthan, projecting a plethora of vitals in front of Dav5d. “I’m ready.”

  “Ready?” Dwayne asked Conthan.

  “To have lightning hurled at me? Yeah, I woke up thinking this would be…”

  Bolts erupted from Dwayne’s fists, flying in the general direction of the newest recruit. Lightning struck the floor and punched a wall near Conthan, leaving burn marks as it sought out its target. He jumped out of the way, rolling along the floor.

  “Not liking this!”

  “Heart rate elevated. His neurotransmitter epinephrine levels are rising. Temperature rising and lung activity rising.”

  “He’s scared, I get it.”

  Conthan clenched his fists, trying to find that sensation at the back of his skull. The smell of burning ozone brought him back to reality, distracting him. Dwayne had both fists up. The snap of the lightning sounded its release from his hands. Conthan ducked, his hands covering his head.

  “You’re not going to be able to duck forever.”

  “His vitals are remaining far calmer than I would have expected.”

  Dwayne held his hands to his sides. The snap sounded again as electricity flooded from his skin’s surface all along his hands and torso. The lightning arced all about the room, more wildly than when he started. Dwayne squinted, looking away from the electricity.

  Conthan raised his head long enough to see there was no way to duck the oncoming barrage from his trainer. He fell backward, landing on his butt. The lightning slowed. The pain ruptured through the base of his skull. The floodgates opened.

  Conthan made no gesture. Survival was the only thought he could focus on. Do not die. The black disc appeared hovering in the middle of the air. There was no resistance as he opened the portal into nothingness. His mind raced, moving more quickly than the lightning approaching him.

  His eyes were open, the scene before him didn’t vanish, and yet he wasn’t looking through his eyes anymore. One end of the portal was open and his power screamed to create an exit. It took effort to not let his abilities chose the destination of the second void. As the wave of lightning entered the portal, a surge in his brain forced him to open a second to the side of Dwayne.

  Dwayne didn’t have time to react as lighting poured out of the second portal, hurling him against the wall. He hit the floor with an oomph and sucked in a deep breath. He inspected his body for burns but was lucky enough the electricity only knocked him to the floor.

  “It’s fascinating,” Dav5d said, passing his hand through the portal. He watched it appear from the void on the far end of the room. The small sphere in the air produced a red beam, scanning the black circle hanging above the ground.

  “You have produced a miniature black hole, or the closest thing to it I can relate.
You’ve managed to bend space.” Dav5d turned to Dwayne, who was picking himself up from the ground. “Most of the Children of Nostradamus have benign powers that are repeated elsewhere in nature. Alyssa and myself and even Dwayne only have control over our own bodies. Yours, Conthan, has a release valve that is a bit more of a spectacle. Vanessa, Skits, and now Conthan are able to control things beyond their physical selves. Vanessa’s abilities defy a scientific explanation for the time being.”

  Conthan stepped closer to them. His eyes were black orbs, void of any color.

  “Conthan, however, is altering a fundamental constant of physics.”

  “I have no idea what you’re saying,” Dwayne said, trying to even his breathing.

  “We would have said he was a Class I.” Dav5d examined the readouts. “He is something we haven’t seen before.”

  “Could there be more?” Dwayne asked.

  Dav5d shrugged. “I have no idea.”

  “When the human computer is at a loss for words, we have a problem.”

  Conthan watched as the sphere entered the void. As it hovered, half in the portal, he let the tension in his body relax. The portal shut fast. As it closed around the small orb, he could feel the resistance, the pain surging outward from his brain as it sliced through the metal. He yelped.

  “Damn,” Dwayne said as half of the sphere fell to the ground. He turned to see the other half where the other portal had been. “Nifty trick.”

  Conthan’s body felt different. He was thrilled he had opened a portal through space, but with each new discovery, it was as if he were starting to take up residence in a stranger’s body. He took a deep breath and turned to the others. “Ready to go again?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  May 19th, 2032 7:12AM

  “She sent our men to die,” cried Roderick.

  “She has no respect,” cried another.

  Vanessa shifted on the stool, making herself comfortable for what was going to be a long discussion. Sitting in a makeshift war room, half a dozen men and women stared at her. She attempted to keep her chin lifted, showing an air of grace about her. Her wings were tightly drawn to her back, but visible for all to see. Every so often she would relax them, calling attention to them, a reminder of who they were talking to. She had been associated with Victor and Roderick for years; she knew how to exploit their belief in her origins.

  There must have been several dozen people housed in the hotel. If she focused on her breathing, the individual thoughts became white noise she couldn’t make out. Every time her attention returned to them, they became louder. A woman cried because her husband was shot today. Another person cried out in pain as the surgeon stitched the last of the cuts on his arm from a stray bullet. A child innocently played with building blocks as he tried to recreate their home.

  Can you hear me?

  Twenty-Seven was scrubbing at the blood on her hands. She was exhausted from helping in the makeshift hospital. She was an expert at changing bandages and cleaning stitches. She had found herself sleeping on the floor late this morning. A stranger had placed a blanket over her. The smile on her face faded as she saw the blood.

  I can, replied Vanessa.

  I had a dream last night. I woke from this. I was home again. I was in my house, wearing my clothes, and preparing dinner.

  Vanessa listened with her ears to the Outlanders in the room. They had begun to discuss things completely unrelated to her. They were angry and their anger was causing the flaws in their society to surface. There was rage in their words. In their minds was something far more dangerous…fear.

  You do not sound sad to be here.

  He was there. He was dead, but there. It was like every other night. He walked in the door angry. He began to berate her/me. He began to insult me—I mean her. Whenever that poor woman resisted, he would tell her nobody would love her like he did. He chiseled away at her self-esteem until there was nothing left.

  You killed him in your dream?

  No. Twenty-Seven did.

  The hair on the back of Vanessa’s neck began to stand from the sensations washing over her. Vanessa had felt bad for the woman at first. The angel had rescued her. Vanessa resisted smiling at the feelings of confidence she was receiving.

  She will be a magnificent woman.

  Vanessa turned her head slightly to look through the windows into the hallway. Twenty-Seven was standing there, giving her a slight wave. Twenty-Seven reached the doors, pushing through and sitting in the corner of the room. The newest addition to their ranks listened intently to the discussion escalate and return to the subject of dead friends and family.

  “I am truly sorry,” she said very quietly.

  The people froze as she spoke. She had become almost statuesque in the room. Roderick, his arm in a sling across his chest, snarled at her interruption. “What is that, angel?”

  His words were dripping with venom as he emphasized both syllables. She hated being equated to religious iconography, but she had no problem allowing them to find solace in her presence. She looked to each of the Outlanders occupying the room. “I am sorry for your losses…each and every one of them.”

  “Your apologies don’t bring them back,” a woman cried out.

  Vanessa looked at the woman, who was wearing an old military jacket, her face covered in grime. On one hand, she pitied the Outlanders, their lifespan ticking away more quickly than it should. She had come to respect them, their bold nature and desire to be free. There was pride evident in each of them, layers below their desire to do good. Even Roderick, his anger visible through clenched teeth and drawn fists, was a decent man who wanted the best for the people he adopted as a family.

  While Outlanders were survivalists, they were reduced to relying on their limited resources. Radiation allowed pathetic crops to grow. Scavenging was essential to their existence. Each of the people in the room showed side effects of the radiation, red patches and skin discoloration. They had either fled the police states of the civilized world once the bomb hit or were sent here by the same police others renounced.

  “My heart is heavy,” she said. “People I rescued from banishment paid the ultimate price. I brought them here, to a sanctuary created to be a bastion of humanity in a cold land.”

  She bit her lip. She could feel the emotions wrapping themselves about her. She would return to the church and mourn the fallen. Her tears would wet the floor as she prayed for forgiveness. She let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding and made eye contact with Twenty-Seven. Sitting across the room, her latest rescue was watching her, eyes fixed on the winged woman. Vanessa took solace knowing one person still had faith in her.

  She listened to their thoughts as they mulled over her words. The Outlanders were a self-governed tribe, but they listened to her wisdom. None believed she was an angel sent by God—they knew she was a Child of Nostradamus—but it didn’t stop them from putting the burden of their lives on her shoulders. She watched them all turn to Victor, their leader.

  He pondered his words before speaking. He had been elected by the group years ago to take charge of the Outlanders. On a typical day, he oversaw minor disputes amongst his clan and helped make sure everybody was capable of surviving another day. He hated it. He would sever a limb to help another person, but carrying the burden of the people around him was killing him as fast as the radiation.

  “They will send death squads. They will send mechs. They may even send Children. Angel, our only option is to move further into the Danger Zone. The radiation will be the least of our worries if they send soldiers after us.”

  “My offer stands, Victor.”

  “How do you know your plan will work?”

  “I have faith,” she said flatly.

  Roderick sauntered toward her. “You drop people here as a penance. You expect us to make good on promises you make to these bandits. Who the hell do you think you are?”

  He took another step toward her to poke his finger into her chest. She moved forw
ard and thrust her hand against his chest. He launched into the air with a grunt, then smacked against the ground. Nobody in the room moved to help him.

  “You witnessed those in my charge earlier today. They have gifts that will take you to a home that will not kill you. Do not leave your people to die, Victor.”

  He will not take my offer.

  Why? We’re going to die here.

  He doesn’t trust I can keep his people safe. He wants a certainty I can’t provide.

  The white noise diminished. Vanessa pried further into Twenty-Seven’s mind and felt a cool sensation press against her own. She reached out with her thoughts, pouring her emotions and thoughts into Twenty-Seven. Something reached through Twenty-Seven’s mind, trying to grab at her. Vanessa panicked.

  “The Outlanders aren’t here anymore, Angel—or perhaps I should call you Vanessa?”

  She froze at the statement. Victor spoke, but the voice had changed to a deep, booming bass. The man in front of her changed; his back straightened while his fists clenched. Vanessa could smell the difference in the air.

  She smiled at the man. “What are you doing here, Warden?”

  “I don’t think you understand the capability of my powers, Vanessa,” he said, dragging out the sound of her name. “The capabilities of your powers.”

  She didn’t move a muscle in reaction to his taunting. “What I can do is far different than what I choose to do,” she said. “As you discovered earlier.”

  “You caught me off guard,” he said with a hint of anger. “It has been so long since I’ve been in the company of another telepath.”

  “You mean, a mind you cannot dominate.”

  “Hush,” the man said. “I could easily infiltrate that mind and wreak havoc. But peons do the job better.”

  She tried to not let the surprise show on her face as each of the other humans stood up and turned toward her. She heard the whispers being broadcast to each of them. Their hands all moved toward weapons tucked into waistbands and holsters. An echo of safety switches being flipped off filled the room.