Nighthawks (Children of Nostradamus Book 1)

by Flagg, Jeremy

  “Ours is a power of the mind,” he said. “But where God made us strong, he forgot about the vessels holding this incredible gift.”

  “Gift?” she asked.

  “Don’t be coy,” he said. “You revel in your powers almost as much as I do my own.”

  “There is a difference between us,” she said as she stood up, brushing off the back of her robes.

  “What is that, my lovely?”

  She stretched out her wings. “My body is anything but frail.”

  She spun and her feathered appendages slammed into Victor’s side, knocking him to the ground. She jumped upwards, using her wings to suspend herself in the air, and kicked the nearest man in the jaw, sending him smacking against a wall. She dropped down, her elbow making contact with the collarbone of a small woman.

  “Be gone,” she cried, letting the sound echo in her mind and directing it outwards.

  She could see the facial expressions flicker on several of the people as they came back to their senses. “You need to flee,” she said to the confused humans.

  “What is going…?” muttered one of the Outlanders.

  They froze and turned back to her and spoke in unison. “Vanessa, we do not approve of this violence.”

  One of the fallen humans grabbed onto her robes. She kicked at him, sending him backward. The darkness of the Warden’s presence enveloped the people around her. She knew what he was doing. She couldn’t match him. Her ability to take over the body of another person was minimal, but she could see she had little choice.

  She drove her thoughts into Twenty-Seven, gripping on to her with all the willpower she could muster. Vanessa could see the darkness as if it was in the room clinging to the woman. She directed her rage, using it as fuel to force the man from his host. The moment it loosened its hold she grabbed onto Twenty-Seven. She was now seeing through both her eyes and the eyes of Twenty-Seven.

  Two bodies moved in concert, dancing around one another, punching, kicking, and shoving the opposition away. The angel used her wings to keep the attackers at bay while Twenty-Seven punched and threw others away from them.

  Both individuals halted when Vanessa heard a bang and felt a stinging in her chest. She looked down and could see her robes and the military jacket Twenty-Seven wore at the same time. A dark red stain began to emerge from the jacket and her connection to the woman began to grow dark. She pulled her mind back and started to scream aloud.

  “I’d like to think I am above using a gun,” said the voice, “but it does have its uses.”

  Vanessa froze and called out to the person most likely able to hear her, the last person whose mind she had inhabited. Conthan. The man lay in his bed, asleep, exhausted. She felt the ache of his muscles from rehearsing his abilities. She felt the natural resistance inherited by the Children of Nostradamus as she pushed at his defenses. She pooled the rage and anguish, used it as ammunition, and she felt his resistance shatter and his muscles tense as he woke from his slumber.

  Vanessa’s body went limp as a man punched her hard across the face. With his minions surrounding her, he was capable of seeing her from a dozen different angles. He stared at the angel before him. She could hear his thoughts as he realized she was far more impressive than he imagined. Her image melted away like an illusion, her alabaster skin transitioning to dark green. He was even more fascinated as the feathers of her wings began to fall away, and he realized that he had plenty of secrets to pry from her mind.

  ***

  Conthan reached out, knocking a light from the nightstand. He tore at the sheets, trying to push them away from his body. He jumped out of bed and fell to the floor. The plush rug under his knees reminded him he wasn’t in his own apartment. Reality washed over him. He was in Boston, in a hotel, deep within the Danger Zone.

  “Vanessa,” he called out.

  His heart raced. He steadied himself, trying to control his breathing. The sun was still shining through the windows. His muscles hurt from working with Dav5d earlier, and they fought him as he raised himself to his feet. What was supposed to be a brief nap had lasted hours. He sat on the edge of the bed, surprised Vanessa wasn’t in the room with him. There was the fleeting sensation that she was watching him.

  The door burst open. Dwayne’s hand was already starting to radiate light. He turned to the corners of the room, looking for danger. “You all right?”

  Conthan shook his head. “Vanessa is in danger. I think. I mean, I’m not entirely sure.”

  “How?” Dwayne paused for a moment and shook his head. “Never mind. I’ll get the others. Meet downstairs.”

  Conthan closed his eyes and had an image of Vanessa being dragged into the shadows by smoky tendrils. She was in a hotel not too different from the one they lived in now. Around her there were people littering the ground, barely moving. He didn’t know how much was real and how much his mind created, but he knew the fear on her face was legit.

  He reached for his jacket and walked toward the door. He had no idea what they were going to do to get her back. He had no idea how he was going to be of use, but after a morning of training and a power nap, he figured there was no better time to become a member of the team.

  “I’m so going to get killed.”

  ***

  Her boots jingled as she walked into the school. She reached for the handle to the door leading toward the lobby and found it was locked. Jasmine appreciated their need for security to keep the school safe. She pulled harder, snapping the lock and forcing the door open.

  It had been years since she had been in any sort of school. It brought back more than her fair share of unpleasant memories. School must be hellish for every teenager, but when you were a Child of Nostradamus, it required extra effort to blend in. She had never been good at fading into the background. The readout on her wrist showed the blueprints of the school and which room she was currently in. She looked at the secretaries through their glass window. They both stood up to speak with her.

  “Can we help you, miss?”

  Jasmine pointed to the patch on her jacket. Their eyes opened wider, but she was certain it was because of the brand on her neck marking her as a Child of Nostradamus.

  “I’m here for an extraction.”

  “You can’t just barge in here,” one woman said boldly.

  Jasmine was wearing a dark red body suit with a black tactical vest. Her belt hugged her hips tightly and she reached down to one of the guns it held. Tapping the weapon, she eyed the woman. “I am sanctioned to fire upon anybody who interferes with my orders.”

  Both women froze. “Uhm,” one stammered, “go right in.”

  Jasmine continued walking into the hallway. Only one student was in the hall. The teen girl gave her a disgusted look, rolled her eyes, and walked into the bathroom.

  “I see not much has changed.”

  Jasmine followed the layout on her wrist as she navigated the halls. Unlike every extraction before, she was going against protocol. Instead of bringing in backup, she left them stationed outside the main doors. She was here to apprehend a Class III, and she didn’t see any reason to interrupt an entire school to bring a sixteen-year-old girl in for questioning.

  “Resistance?” asked a voice in her earpiece.

  It wasn’t the first time she had thought about walking into a school carrying two loaded guns. In her weaker moments during puberty, she thought about massacring a locker room full of girls who ridiculed her. Her father’s guns were kept in a desk drawer in his office. It wouldn’t have taken any effort. She had played the scenario out a thousand times. Before she fell victim to revenge, she had been extracted in a process not much different than this.

  A trio of students backed up to their lockers as she walked by. It was juvenile, but she smiled at them as she passed. They weren’t Becky Saunders, but at least for a moment she felt vindicated. She stopped in front of K007, a sign on the door reading ‘Mrs. Haley.’

  The teacher was projecting a map on the board. She pointed to
an area just east of the Mediterranean. Jasmine wondered if the class was geography or a history class. Sitting two seats back, closest to the door, her target scribbled notes furiously.

  Jasmine took a breath and reached for the door. She never liked collaring Class III Children. Their powers were harmless. It got even worse when it was a teenager who was doing everything to simply fit in. She opened the door and the entire class froze, staring at her less-than-modest uniform.

  The teacher walked up to the soldier, keeping her voice down. “Have mercy on the poor girl.”

  “You reported her,” Jasmine whispered.

  The woman nodded. She leaned in close and said, “The administration made me. She’s a sweet girl and has enough problems at home. You must remember what it was like at that age.”

  The students began to mumble about the exchange, very aware of the woman and the guns she wore on her hips. The instructor turned to the class and in a flawless teacher voice said, “Rebecca, this lovely lady needs to talk to you.”

  The girl’s eyes darted back and forth. She stood up and walked toward the door. She looked at Jasmine and then to her teacher. “I’m sorry.” She began to cry.

  Jasmine remembered it happening much the same way. Instead of a single woman entering the classroom, it had been half a dozen soldiers with guns drawn. There was no way to hush the whispers as Rebecca’s classmates began to talk about the insignia on her vest.

  Rebecca’s face was wet from the tears. She tried wiping them away but couldn’t stifle her sniffling. Her voice was shaky as she spoke. “I promise not to do it again.”

  “You’ve been identified as a Child of Nostradamus.” Jasmine began her speech. “You will be taken to an intake facility and your powers evaluated. If your powers pose no threat to humanity, you will be released and allowed to live amongst humans.”

  “I am human,” cried the young girl.

  Jasmine gripped her gun at the outcry. Most soldiers would have sedated the subject and taken her out in restraints. Jasmine nearly stumbled as the girl reached out, grasping her in an embrace. Jasmine watched as the girl’s skin turned as red as her jumper. Her powers were developing, and still controlled by her emotions. She didn’t need to be tested, she needed a mentor.

  “Why are you doing this to me?”

  Jasmine pulled the girl off her and kneeled next to her. “You’ll be back in school within the month,” she said. “Behave and work with the people at the facility.”

  The girl wiped her face with the sleeves of her shirt. “How do you know that?”

  Jasmine pushed the girl back. She remembered how terrified she had been on the car ride to the facility. It wasn’t the men holding guns or the fact they had stolen her in the middle of the day. She had been worried about disappointing her father.

  “I’m a Child of Nostradamus.”

  The girl’s eyes opened wide. “Then why are you doing this to me?”

  Was it duty? Was it because she believed in the mission? Jasmine asked herself the same question. Her reasoning didn’t extend far beyond survival. She had once felt that it was the right thing to do, taking powered people that were causing chaos off the streets. Now it had become a witch hunt for people with anomalies. She thought of the man who was able to fling lighting; he was dangerous. This girl, her biggest concern was her first kiss.

  Jasmine listened as the radio in her ear began to talk about activity in the Danger Zone. The government wouldn’t send humans on this mission. She would be sent alone, perhaps with mechs. It was only a matter of minutes before new orders were barked into her ear.

  Jasmine took the girl’s shoulders in her hands. “I’m being called away on another mission.”

  “What about me?”

  Jasmine pulled out her earpiece and covered it. “I can’t tell you what to do. But they will continue to come for you as long as they know where you are. My suggestion is, find a way to vanish. Your life as you know it is over.”

  “My parents?”

  “If they won’t support you, it’s up to you to survive any way you can.”

  The girl’s tears began pouring down her cheeks again. “My life is over.”

  Jasmine nodded. She wanted to tell her it wasn’t going to be a bad existence. She wanted to say she would return in time for her prom. Jasmine couldn’t lie to the girl. “Head north to Canada or into the Danger Zone. You won’t be safe, but it’ll stop the government from coming after you.”

  Jasmine pushed the earpiece into her ear and heard the gruff voice of the general. “Jasmine, what is your position?”

  “Was about to apprehend a Class III. I’m heading back to the transport. We will be able to reach the Danger Zone within the hour.”

  “We lost radio contact.”

  She had no doubt he was aware of the entire situation. “I will need backup.”

  “No soldiers,” the man said flatly.

  “Mechs?”

  “We’re sending in prototypes as support. Jasmine,” he said with a calm voice. “If this does not pan out, you will be terminated. It is either them or you.”

  If there weren’t a kill chip in the base of her skull, she would have chosen another path. She felt the weight of the decision, the girl in front of her and the battle on the horizon. She was a puppet for people who would just as soon see her dead. Her humanity continued to slip away as she became nothing more than a tool.

  “Yes, sir.”

  ***

  “What’s the plan?” asked Dwayne.

  Dav5d examined the other four people standing in the deserted street with him. His brain processed the information at hand. He knew their strengths and weaknesses and had no trouble saying they could easily wrangle the Outlanders.

  “There is something bigger at play,” he confessed.

  “How so?”

  Dav5d didn’t believe the Outlanders would risk a fight between the two groups. Their weapons were limited and their reliance on Vanessa for guidance had been the focal point of their relationship. Without her, they wouldn’t be able to screen new members or explore deeper into the radiated stretches of the Danger Zone. He continued to compute the data on the Outlanders, their activities, their roster of members, their stronghold in western Massachusetts.

  “It does not add up.”

  “You don’t know?” Dwayne hated when Dav5d said he didn’t know something. For him to be stumped, there was something wrong with the situation before it began.

  “I did not say that. The Outlanders would not do this.”

  “Then what?”

  “It’s the Warden,” Conthan said.

  The glazed over look on Dav5d’s face gave away the intensity of his abilities at work. His brain processed information at a speed computers had yet to reach. “I’m finding logical leaps, but it does hold a high probability considering our recent interactions.”

  “It is,” Conthan said firmly. “I saw him, or something like him, in my dream. There’s no way Vanessa would have showed me that unless she wanted me to see it.”

  “Agreed,” Dav5d said.

  “We go in,” Dwayne said.

  “The four of you will go. I am going to prepare the rest to leave.” Dav5d said.

  “You’re leaving?” asked Conthan.

  “We were many once. The onslaughts have become fewer, but the government is not done attempting to eradicate us. The rest of this tribe does not have abilities as aggressive as yours. If for some reason you were to be held up, they would be defenseless.”

  Dav5d didn’t try to hide the discomfort he was feeling. He was speaking logically, but he couldn’t explain the feeling in his gut. He had tried to explain his emotional state by the chemicals being processed in his brain. Dwayne had frequently told him the discomfort in the pit of his stomach was love, but it was difficult to understand. He was a master of information, but the moment his heart came into play, he became confused.

  “She’ll be okay.”

  “I’ll head west in the trucks with th
e others. If you succeed, I’ll make sure Vanessa’s promise is honored and I’ll take the Outlanders north. We will meet with Dominique and Trevor. Vanessa would want us to make good on her promises. It is the least we can do.”

  “Dominique and Trevor?” Conthan asked.

  “Did you think we were the only Children? We have allies in Canada. They’ve taken in refugees who need a life closer to the one they left behind.”

  Skits cracked her knuckles and rolled her head, stretching the muscles in her neck. She faked a few punches while jumping up and down. “I am so ready to beat the snot out of somebody.”

  “Dav5d, can you load me up?” asked Alyssa.

  Dav5d punched several buttons on the computer attached to his gauntlet. He took the computer off his wrist and handed it to Alyssa. Videos played at an alarming speed. Each showed a woman practicing some variation of martial arts. She then switched to knives, guns, and even a sword. Alyssa watched closely, every now and then mimicking one of the poses in the videos.

  “What is she doing?” asked Conthan.

  “Muscle memory. She only needs to see it once.”

  “My mom used to yell at me for trying stuff I saw on TV.” Conthan was still surprised at the diversity of their gifts.

  “Practice makes perfect. Her body takes the visuals and it’s as if she’s practiced for years. Watch as she fights. Her body is a living weapon. She can also play the piano better than any I’ve ever seen.”

  “Damn.”

  “She’ll retain it for a few days. The more she tries to learn, the faster it fades. It might not be there long, but while it is, she’s a master.”

  Dav5d’s abilities forced him to see beyond the random and analyze the significance of each of them being on the team. Dwayne was the leader in the field, fast to action and defensive of the people in his charge. He was the action to Vanessa’s voice of reason. His younger sister was always ready to get into a scrape and with her powers, she was arguably the most dangerous. Alyssa had only been with them a year, but she complimented the others with her abilities letting her adapt in the field. Conthan, the newest member, didn’t have the same gung-ho attitude as the others. Dav5d deduced that he would be another powerhouse on the team once he managed his abilities.