Nighthawks (Children of Nostradamus Book 1)

by Flagg, Jeremy

  She opened her eyes to shadows under her door. She wondered if it was Dwayne coming to try another round of shock therapy. The shadow didn’t move and she then assumed it was one of the younger Children, unsure of how to proceed.

  “Come in,” she said aloud.

  The door eased open. Conthan peeked around the corner. Once he noticed her on the floor, he didn’t speak.

  She eyed him. “Checking on me?”

  “I’m not entirely sure.”

  She studied the kid. He was wearing a pair of ripped jeans, a soiled t-shirt, and a weathered leather jacket. He could have been any young man, but something about his face was starting to tell a story that would harden with age. She could tell by the way he kept his hands in his pockets and tried to avoid eye contact, he wasn’t like the others. “You’re new.”

  “Yeah,” he mumbled.

  “You’re the kid who killed the Corps soldiers at the art gallery.”

  He gawked. Was she the only one who knew what happened? He obviously hadn’t thought she would know what started this journey for him. “He was going to kill me. He had already killed another artist there.”

  “So you felt it was better to kill than be killed?”

  The heat crept up his face until his cheeks were red. “No,” he spit out, “he shot at me, and then he was dead on the ground.”

  “Fight or flight reflex,” she said. “Not too shabby.”

  “I didn’t do anything to him.”

  “But you ran.”

  “Everybody knows what happens to Children of Nostradamus.” His eyes started to burn a hole in her. “What you do to them.”

  She nodded. She had seen judgment like this before. She thought to the young girl earlier that day who had accused Jasmine of betraying them. For a long time, she would ignore the accusatory looks, but she couldn’t shake the girl from her mind. “You’re not wrong.”

  “Why?”

  “My motives are none of your business.”

  “Why hunt down your own kind?”

  Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him. “Fight or flight,” she said as if it answered any questions he could have. “If it comes down to me or somebody else, it won’t be me that dies. You have to be concerned with yourself. It’s every person for themselves.”

  He looked ready to spit back a retort but stopped. He was tense, maybe even angry. There came a moment in his contemplation of her answer that his body relaxed. She was surprised to see it, usually people would tear apart her desire to survive. There was a brief moment when the look on his face softened, and she looked away, refusing to accept his pity.

  “Don’t fuck us over tomorrow,” Conthan said with no aggressive tone to his voice. Before she could retort he added, “I’ve got your six.”

  Jasmine’s anger tingled along her skin. Her powers reached out to find materials to mimic. As he spoke, her emotions turned to anguish. She tried to take a calming breath but she could feel her emotions welling to the surface.

  “Why?” she asked simply.

  “Somebody had faith in me not too long ago. Figure it’s only right to have faith in you.”

  “You’re using me just like the Corps, don’t try to act righteous.”

  “They used you, Jasmine,” he said. “We’re relying on you. There’s a difference. Without you, we all go down. We need you and you need us. It might not be friendship, but it’s…” he thought about his word choice, “it’s an alliance.”

  There was an awkward moment between them. He gave her a slight nod and backed out of her room. The door clicked as it came to a close. She was alone again, and now she let her emotions flow over the surface. Tears rolled freely down her face.

  She didn’t like that her emotions were getting the best of her. If for no other reason, it made her look weak, and that was not a word she used to describe herself. She reached behind her head and her fingers pass over the small bump at the base of her skull. For a decade, she had been fearful somebody would flip the switch and she’d die for no other reason than the cosmos selected her to be different.

  “Freedom,” she whispered.

  Despite the word and its grand possibilities, she felt that she was entering one prison after another. She was a free woman and could do whatever she wanted, but now she was a liability and the government wouldn’t stop until they reacquired her. The rest of her life consisted of hiding from the authorities. Even with that thought, she smiled; at least now she could decide how and when she would die. It wouldn’t be at the hand of her jailers. Now she could wrangle ahold of something in her life.

  The kid had a point. When she had told him “truce,” she hadn’t been lying. He had saved her life. She owed him a debt. It was the first time she owed somebody for an act of kindness. She would pay her debt and then she could begin to figure out what she wanted to do with her life.

  “Freedom,” she whispered again, letting the taste of the word linger in her mouth.

  ***

  Vanessa stood in a room with no visible walls, the entire scene bathed in white light. In every direction she could see as far as the eye would let her. She was kneeling on a floor, reciting a lengthy prayer. She held her hands together, rosary beads draped between her fingers.

  “A praying angel,” said a voice. “Don’t you think it’s a bit too cliché even for you?”

  “How are the survivors?” She never looked up from her prayer beads.

  “We met with the remaining Outlanders at the rendezvous. They are terrified after waking up to a slaughter. Some of them remember snippets. They are discussing the shadows that murdered their people. They understand it was a telepath.”

  “This is their hell.”

  “It is better to keep them in the dark. Let them be confused. It prevents them from being angry until we cross the border.”

  She attempted a smile. The smile became authentic as she stared into his eyes. “How are you, Dav5d?”

  “I’m asleep in the back of a van with three other people.” He laughed. “I’d be sleeping better if Victor’s elbow wasn’t wedged into my shoulder blades.”

  “Have you made it to Canada?”

  “Almost,” he said. “We found the border we intended to cross was host to more guards than we imagined.”

  “Will you be able to make it?”

  He nodded. “We may have to travel on foot, but that doesn’t seem to bother anybody. Except for Victor, he would complain if we were at a five-star resort. Twenty-Seven has spoken at length about her encounter with you before the meeting. It seems you have had a lasting impression on her.”

  With an image of her in mind, Vanessa could sense Twenty-Seven was sleeping in the front seat of the van. Her hand dangled over the front seat, only inches from a gun she tucked away in case of emergency. The woman was resilient; they would need her as they began to plant roots in the north.

  Dav5d stood in the room without walls, his thick jacket hiding most of his frame. His face was neutral as usual. She found it impossible to hear his thoughts. He was the one person she couldn’t read like a book; it was both a blessing and a curse. She finally asked, “And how are you?”

  “I am well. I have already figured out that pending an anomaly in my predictions, we will make it across with no difficulty, even accounting for Corps interference. They will not spare enough forces to render us immobile.”

  He reached down and brushed the back of his hand across her cheek. Their encounter contradicted all logic. She could hear his mind dissecting their interaction. She wasn’t really there, but he couldn’t help but enjoy the sensation that his brain falsely registered. He knelt down. “How are you doing?”

  “I am tense.”

  She rested her face against his hand. Even across the many miles her skin remembered his touch. She could feel the warmth radiating from him.

  “The Warden is a telepath. His power is…” she searched for the word “immense. He was able to force his will upon so many that…”

  She watched as h
e studied the arch of her eyebrows and the slight pause between blinks. He could deduce her thoughts almost as fast as she could have them. He was painfully aware she was fearful of what was coming. His thoughts echoed in her mind. “You’re not sure you can win?”

  She shook her head. “No. Worse. I see the appeal of his power.”

  Dav5d seemed genuinely surprised by her remark. His thoughts went back to being a whirlwind of mathematics, probabilities, and connecting information. She looked down as his hand wrapped around hers, squeezing. For the briefest of moments, all she sensed was his confidence. “You see a warped possibility.”

  She nodded.

  “The difference is you know you’re seeing a reflection. You can see the mangled version of yourself staring back at you.”

  Her silence let him ponder the situation further. He could see it was weighing on her more than he would expect. He searched for words to comfort her. “You’re not him, Vanessa. You know right from wrong. You are ethical, humble, and underneath even the most ruthless decision I’ve seen you make, there is compassion.”

  The smile across her face was accompanied by pained eyes. She stood and took several steps backward, putting distance between them. Dav5d watched as she transformed. The feathers of her wings dissolved, until there were only scales.

  Her pupils began to fade, morphing from circular orbs to something almost snakelike. Her skin’s milky white flawlessness was replaced by a dark green. In place of her golden hair there was a thin mane of equally sickly strands.

  She wrapped her arms about her torso, hugging herself as her body shook. He did the only thing he could think of. He stepped forward, reached behind her head, and kissed her. As his hands slid to the side of her face, her hands reached about his back, cautious and hesitant. She clutched him, pulling him closer. Her teeth were sharp against his tongue, almost as sharp as the nails digging into his shoulder blades. Pain didn’t slow him.

  He could access every bit of processing power offered to the human brain. His mind was the fastest computer known to mankind. She could hear alarms going off in his head as her body pressed against his. He understood the reality bringing them together was a fabrication of her abilities. His gifts alerted him to the falsehood, but her skin, her embrace, and her beating heart were more rewarding. She nearly gasped as the thought became clear as words. It was the first moment since his power awakened that he ignored facts.

  He pulled back to see her face. Her eyelids opened slowly revealing the yellow rings around her irises. He stared into them and smiled. “I’ve been waiting.”

  She smiled back, exposing her elongated canines. “I know.”

  “Why now?”

  She lowered her chin, avoiding the eyes analyzing her every word. “I’ve spent my entire life fighting”—she spread her wings out wide—“this. I look in the mirror and see a monster looking back at me. But…” She took a deep breath. “I’m not a monster.”

  “You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

  She couldn’t help it, her insecurities drove her powers to reach into his mind. She could sense the coursing river of his consciousness. She was shocked she could hear his thoughts, and each of them brought her back to this moment. He was admiring her, soaking up the beautiful woman before him. She could hear each word echo through his mind, and she was embarrassed she couldn’t accept them.

  “Read as much as you want, Vanessa,” he said. “Right now, there’s nothing more important than this. This very moment.”

  She witnessed herself through his eyes, and she was amazed to see he wasn’t focusing on the image she had forged for herself. Her heart swelled; it was a moment of acceptance she hadn’t expected, even from the man she had grown so fond of.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “And that’s what makes you better than him. You’re strong, Vanessa,” he said with a confident, firm voice. “You thought this void that Eleanor couldn’t see beyond revolved around Conthan. But what if this entire time, it’s been you? You’ve brought us together. You’ve led us. You’ve been the anchor that has kept this, us, safe. Vanessa, without you, we would never have been.”

  Had she been capable of crying, the tight feeling in her heart would have caused her eyes to begin leaking. She let out the faintest of smiles and embraced him again. “Dav5d,” she whispered in his ear, “you’ve been my anchor.”

  “I’ve always known your secret, Vanessa,” he confessed. “I couldn’t not know it. I’ve waited for you to confess this for yourself.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Sleep, Vanessa. Tomorrow will be a challenge for you. But no matter what happens, know that I’m here. I will always stand beside you, angel,” he said with a coy smile.

  He stepped back and as fast as they had come together, she was in a bed alone. She was lying on her stomach, her cheek resting on a rolled-up blanket. She held out her hand and saw milky white skin again. She relaxed her mind and the tension in her body washed away, and with it, the telepathically manufactured pigment of her skin. She stretched her hand, examining her fingertips, each end more akin to claws than nails. Staring at the green of her arm, she thought of Dav5d embracing her.

  “If you believe…”

  ***

  Twenty-Seven gripped the gun under the seat. She let her thumb inch up the stock until the safety gave a faint click. Her eyes opened slowly. She inspected the immediate area without moving a muscle. Snoring came from the back of the van in a symphony drowning out Mother Nature.

  She lifted the gun to her chest. Her left shoulder ached. Dav5d had performed surgery on her. The bullet was removed without issue and he said she’d mend quickly. The pain intensified as she tensed her muscles, sitting up slowly, not making a sound.

  The van was dark and only the moon illuminated the area around it. Nearly two dozen had met at the rendezvous, battered and beaten. She was surprised to see so many. For some reason she expected them to all be killed by the terrifying force that took them over. The survivors whispered about dreams they had and the reality they awoke to, the massacre of their loved ones, scared it might happen again.

  Gripping the gun, she knew the boogie man wasn’t really there; he was miles away, and with a thought he could reach them. His power was chilling, somebody who could turn friends against one another so quickly. More frightening, a man that could rob your body of its independence.

  “We’re alone,” Dav5d whispered.

  He was some sort of genius. He had no social skills to speak of, but she liked him. His awkward ways were endearing. He spoke in facts and would analyze things out loud. It made the other Outlanders nervous. She found him to be a relief. If only the men in her life were always so straightforward.

  “I’m scared.”

  “That’s appropriate, considering the trauma you recently sustained both mentally and physically.”

  She smiled. He had no idea he was doing it. “Where are we going?”

  “We will be in Canada tomorrow. I will introduce you to Elias and Jessica.”

  She pushed the safety on and quietly set the gun back on the floor. Her hand rested on the weapon as she tried to get comfortable again. Once she found a spot that kept her shoulder from hurting, she whispered to Dav5d, “Who are Elias and Jessica?”

  “Children of Nostradamus. They ushered several of our younger wards to Canada to keep them safe from the government. They have begun a small community for Children. They will help get you situated. You’ll have a home that will not slowly kill you.”

  There was a long pause as she thought about what it would be like to have a home again. She only stayed a couple days with the Outlanders. But the hotel had seemed more like a fortress than a home. There were no humans she found herself bonded to. Her thoughts moved from the Children to Vanessa, the angel who had saved her.

  “May I ask a question?” Dav5d asked harmlessly.

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you know your role in the bigger picture?”

  She starte
d to respond and found herself at a loss for words. She had been a prisoner. She had been a wayward, lost soul. She had been rescued. She had been united with kindred spirits. She was in the midst of fleeing to their Valhalla. She shook her head. “I haven’t the faintest.”

  “What did Eleanor say?”

  The psychic. The woman had started her on this path. Twenty-Seven gripped the gun tighter. The cool metal reminded her of the lock on the safe her husband kept. With a few words, a long dead woman changed her entire world. “She freed me. She gave me the ability to make choices again. I’m still figuring out where it’ll take me.”

  “You will discover it in time.”

  “Did Eleanor send you a letter?”

  “Of the Nighthawks, I am the only person who did not receive a letter.”

  Twenty-Seven wished she could remember her letter word for word. There was something in the woman’s tone, in the very way she curved her letters that showed sympathy. Twenty-Seven knew Eleanor understood her situation, perhaps far more than she cared to admit.

  “I think she only gives letters to the people who need them, those lost on their journey. Eleanor must have known you existed. Maybe she wrote somebody else a letter because she knew you’d find your own way?”

  The silence hung in the air for several minutes. Twenty-Seven wanted to say more, but she didn’t know how to explain herself. She had been at her weakest and Eleanor had raised her up. She wondered if Dav5d was forging a path that did not need Eleanor’s input.

  “Thank you.”

  She grinned as she closed her eyes. He might be the smartest man alive, but she was certain it was only the teachings of a determined mom that forced his thanks. He meant it as much as he could, but he had no idea why two words could alter a person’s mood so much.