by A. P. Kensey
Dormer nodded. “Good,” he said. “I’ll go first this time.”
He strode to the facility entrance and walked inside. A woman wearing nurse’s scrubs cowered behind a desk, her face lit with the soft green glow of a computer monitor.
“Excuse me,” said Dormer. “I’m here to visit my brother.”
The woman opened her mouth to speak but Dormer moved in quickly and squeezed her forehead. There was a slight concussive whumph sound and the woman’s eyes rolled up into the back of her head as she collapsed to the ground.
“Is she dead?” asked Haven.
“No, but she should be,” said Dormer. “Everyone here knows what they are doing—the harm they have caused. There are no selfless members of the medical profession in this building. These people don’t help anyone but themselves.”
He moved quickly past the unconscious woman and down a long hallway that led away from the receptionist’s area. The ceiling lights dimmed considerably as Dormer passed below them, then glowed to full brightness in his wake.
Haven checked the side rooms of the hallway. All of them were empty—examination rooms with shiny new monitoring equipment on rolling tables that rested next to reclining leather exam chairs. The whole place smelled like lemons.
Dormer held up a warning finger and pressed it to his lips, then nodded toward the end of the hallway.
Haven stepped forward as quietly as she could and stood next to him, peeking around his arm.
A large room was lined with metal tables. On each table lay a patient—some were very young, others extremely old. Thick plastic tubes ran into the unconscious patients’ arms and legs. The tubes were attached to clear bags of white liquid that fed slow drips into their pale bodies.
Haven started forward but Dormer pulled her back. She was about to argue with him when she heard laughter from the room.
One of the twins with short, spiky blond hair walked into view and clapped his hands happily. He spoke to someone out of sight as he pulled himself up and sat down on a long table that was lined with all sorts of medical instruments, from scalpels to bone saws. He picked up a malicious-looking silver tool and admired it with an impressed grin.
The other twin walked over and picked up a bone saw. He twirled it in the air and red flame danced over its chrome blade. The first twin laughed and grabbed up the flame, then blew it out of his open palm and into the air as if he were blowing away dust. Then he walked over to the nearest patient and rattled the bed violently, screaming into the patient’s face as the table screeched across the floor. He shrugged and walked back to his brother.
“Well,” said Dormer. “I’ve seen all I need to see.” He turned to Haven. “Get ready to act, because I’ll likely be finished after this one.”
He cleared his throat and stepped out of the hallway.
The twins laughed when they saw him and clapped their hands.
“Dane,” said Dormer, nodding to the Source twin. “Lee,” he said to the other.
“What are you doing here?” said Dane. The arrogance in his tone was unmistakable. “You gotta be the dumbest person alive.”
“Are you alone?” said Lee. He hopped down off the table and peered down the hallway.
Haven ducked farther from view.
“Of course I am,” said Dormer. “I’m here for my brother.”
“Oh yeah,” said Dane. “I heard about him. Pretty high up there on the scale, according to Bernam.”
“Stronger than me,” said Dormer.
“Not anymore,” said Lee. He stood next to Dane. “Bernam drained him just enough to keep him from dying. Pathetic to watch, really.”
“Disgusting,” said Dane. His face scrunched up as if he smelled a foul odor.
Haven was growing impatient. Her skin burned with heat and sweat dripped down her back. She shook with anger as she thought about the red flames licking up the sides of her home—of her parents lying in bed together as they died.
She was about to step out of the hallway when all of the lights in the room dimmed to half-brightness and Dormer spoke again.
“Enough.”
The twins backed up warily. Dane’s eyes glowed with red flame and he quickly put his hand on Lee’s shoulder.
“Don’t even try it, old man!” he shouted.
“Oh,” said Dormer, “I think I will.”
38
All of the lights went completely dark just as Lee raised his fists and a thick beam of red energy cut the air. Dormer held his arms out to the side and the beam hit him in the center of his chest. The energy swirled around him but he was untouched by the fire. Black smoke flowed out of his hands and mixed with the red flames. The smoke swirled quickly through the energy, consuming it and drawing it into Dormer’s body. His eyes flooded with black shadow; tiny sparks of red glowed like burning embers in his pupils.
The beam of energy from the twins died and they breathed out in unison, exhausted.
The last of the red flames spiraled around Dormer like a tornado and quickly disappeared into his chest. His entire body seemed to vibrate so quickly that his silhouette became a blur. He raised his arm toward Dane and opened his fist.
“No…” Lee whispered.
Black and red energy burst from Dormer’s palm—a giant tube of swirling, crackling plasma that melted everything around it in a five-foot radius.
Lee dove out of the path but Dane stood there with his mouth open as the tunnel of chaotic energy consumed him from head to toe. He didn’t have time to scream.
The energy faded and Dormer collapsed to the ground. All that remained of Dane were two black, charred marks where his feet had been.
Haven ran into the room and helped Dormer sit up.
A few feet away, Lee stared at the empty spot where his brother had been, his shock turning into rage.
He shook with anger and his face twisted into a scream as he ran at Dormer. Haven held up her hand and blue fire exploded from her palm. The bubble burst against Lee’s chest and sent him crashing backward into the table full of medical instruments. He lay on the ground, unconscious, a smoking hole in his shirt over a ring of sizzling flesh.
Dormer’s outburst had burned a tunnel straight across the room. A cylinder ringed with melted plastic and burnt wood extended down the hallway that continued away from the entrance.
“Are you okay?” asked Haven.
A thin sheen of sweat covered Dormer’s body. His eyes rolled in their sockets as he tried to focus.
“I’ll be—I’ll be fine,” he said weakly. “Need to lie down. You go on.”
Haven helped him down to the floor. She wondered how much more powerful he could be if he ever found his Source. Looking at the melted walls of the hallway, Haven found it hard to believe that he was capable of doing even more damage. She grabbed a pillow from a nearby table and placed it under his head.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“How do I wake them up?” asked Haven.
Dormer tried to lift his arms but barely moved. “The white tubes,” he said. “Pull the tubes.”
Haven nodded and stood. She walked quickly around the room, pulling out all of the intravenous feeds that were running into the patients’ arms and legs. When she finished, she went back to Dormer.
“I’m going to find our brothers,” she said.
Dormer nodded weakly. “Don’t be alarmed,” he said, “but mine can be a royal pain.”
Haven smiled. “Why am I not surprised?”
She rested her palm on his forehead and he closed his eyes.
All of the rooms that lined the burnt hallway were empty. Haven jogged down the corridor, looking ahead to a set of large, steel doors that blocked her path. She pushed against them but they were firmly locked. A small black panel on the wall blinked with red numbers. Haven put her palm to the panel and melted it with blue plasma, but the doors did not open.
She had just turned to try and find another way deeper into the complex when the doors swung open with a pneumat
ic hiss and a security guard in a black uniform stepped through the doorway. He was just finishing a yawn when he saw Haven.
He stopped, looked behind him, then back at her.
“Hi,” said Haven.
“Umm, hello?” said the guard.
He reacted too slowly. Haven grabbed both sides of his head as he reached for a pistol holstered to his belt. Blue light sparked from her fingertips and scorched black lines over his face. His hair stood up on end as if he had been struck by lightning and he fell to the floor.
Haven kicked him to make sure he was unconscious. She ran past him, through the doorway, and immediately stopped.
The large room before her was empty except for a tall metal chair in the center. Strapped to the chair, every inch of his skin lined with small plastic tubes that fed down into the floor, was Noah. His head had been shaved and his scalp was punctured with a hundred thin wires that led into the floor at the base of the chair.
The walls of the rooms were lined with giant monitors, each displaying a different piece of information. Noah’s vital signs were on one, his brain functions on another—multicolored wire-thin lines traced paths on a scale, recording every impulse in his brain.
Haven ran to him and looked down at his small, frail body. He wore light blue scrubs; his hands and bare feet were filthy. She pulled aside a loose flap of fabric over his chest and recoiled in horror. Her eyes filled with tears when she saw the fresh, jagged scar that ran from the base of Noah’s throat down to the bottom of his ribcage.
He shifted in the chair and groaned softly.
“I’m going to get you out of here,” whispered Haven.
Her hands shook as she gently pulled the tubes from his skin. Small drops of blood beaded up from the tiny holes.
“I’m sorry, Noah,” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry.”
She pulled out the last of the tubes and lifted him from the chair. He moaned as she held him in her arms like she used to when he was a toddler, allowing his head to rest on her shoulder and draping his arms around her neck.
Haven hurried across the room and down the hallway.
Dormer was still lying in the spot where she left him. His eyes were open and he was staring at the ceiling.
He smiled when he saw Noah. “You found him.”
Haven looked around the room. All of the patients were still unconscious in their beds.
“Why aren’t they awake?” she asked. The sudden urge to get out after she found Noah was growing too strong to ignore.
“It will take time,” said Dormer.
“I didn’t see anyone else,” said Haven. “I’m sorry.”
Dormer smiled again. “He’s here. I can feel it. Leave him with me,” he said, gesturing to Noah. “You go and help the others. They will need it.”
“I can’t lose him again,” she said, hugging Noah close.
“You won’t. I promise.”
Dormer pushed himself to his feet and stood up straight. Haven reluctantly passed Noah into his arms.
“Better hurry,” said Dormer. “I think the black sports car would be a good choice.”
Haven rubbed her hand over Noah’s shaved scalp and shuddered when she felt the tiny bumps left behind by the wires that had dug into his skin.
The ball of light that had been slowly shrinking inside of her since she found Noah found new life and grew stronger. She allowed it to fill her body and her mind as she turned and ran down the hallway, toward the facility entrance.
39
Colton stood up slowly in the elevator.
Corva leaned against the wall as the last of the orange light faded from her skin. The air in the hallway was thick with smoke. Lights flickered in the ceiling and from the open doorways on either side of the hall. The security guards had been pushed back into the rooms from the initial blast; their black-booted feet stuck out into the hallway.
“A little overkill,” said Corva, “but effective.”
Someone down the hall coughed.
Marius frowned. “Missed one,” he said.
He walked out of the elevator and into the dark cloud of smoke. It parted for him and curled around behind his back as he disappeared down the hall.
A moment later, Colton heard him speaking. A voice answered him, then coughed. Marius said something in Russian and there was a crack of knuckles against bone, followed by a heavy thud. Marius appeared out of the smoke in front of the elevator, brushing off the sleeves of his thick jacket.
“Sixth floor,” he said. “A little farther.”
“Nice work,” said Corva. “Faster than going level by level.” She pushed the button for the sixth floor and the doors closed silently.
“Sometimes Marius has good ideas,” he said.
The elevator ascended smoothly. Colton tried to keep his anger fresh in his mind—his rage toward Bernam for what he allowed to happen to his mother—but felt it wane in the presence of fear. Marius and Corva both looked so sure of themselves—so confident. Colton was sure he would feel a lot more so if only he could access part of his ability.
He tried again, reaching out with his mind into the space around him.
Nothing.
Colton didn’t stand a chance against Bernam nor anyone else that had even the slightest bit of power.
He was opening his mouth to tell the others that he should wait downstairs or go and help Haven and Dormer when the elevator stopped and the doors slid open amidst a hail of gunfire.
Marius shoved Corva to the side of the elevator as bullets sparked off the metal walls. She hit Colton and pulled him with her to the small area of safety at the front of the elevator next to the open door.
A bullet shot clean through Marius’s chest and he made a small noise, as if someone had just pinched him a little too hard. Another bullet hit his right leg and he dropped to the floor of the elevator.
Corva reached out and pulled him to the side as more bullets thunked into the back of the elevator.
“No…” she said. She moved her shaking hands over his body, afraid to touch his wounds.
“I’ll take him,” said Colton.
Corva gently leaned Marius against Colton’s shoulder. He was breathing slowly and his eyes were closed. Blood soaked through his shirt and spread from a dark hole below his collarbone.
She stood up and hugged the wall. Bullets continued to spray into the elevator.
“What are you doing?” shouted Colton.
Corva didn’t answer. She clenched her fists and stepped out into the open doorway.
The bullets stopped for a fraction of a second, as if the gunmen were surprised that one of their targets had so easily presented herself. Corva took a step forward and the gunfire resumed.
Colton risked peeking out of the doorway and saw orange light flooding the room—Corva must have saved some energy from Marius. It quickly faded and the sound of the gunfire grew louder.
Colton knew he had to do something.
He leaned Marius against the side of the elevator and hit the button for it to descend to the parking structure. Hopefully somebody would find him before it was too late.
Colton stepped out of the elevator as the doors closed and ran for cover.
The sixth floor was a single, open room with no windows. Dim lights lined the ceiling, casting a dull, bluish glow on the polished black floor. Tall structural pillars were spaced out evenly from wall to wall, and Colton dove behind one as bullets sank into the floor at his feet.
Corva was standing behind another pillar, pressing hard on a fresh gunshot wound in her left shoulder. Colton looked around the side of his pillar and saw three gunmen crouching near a huge machine on the far side of the room. Each of the men wore the same heavy armor and carried the same black automatic rifles as the guards Colton had seen on the second floor.
The machine was attached to the floor and the ceiling. Bulbous tubes connected to blocky metal containers, all of which led to a small, raised platform in the middle of the machine.
Standing on the platform, suspended in mid-air by massive restraints that engulfed his hands and feet, was Reece. He was either dead or unconscious, hanging lifelessly from his bindings. A pulse of light flowed over the tubes in the machine and fed down through the restraints. The light coursed over Reece’s skin and for a brief moment his eyes opened and he screamed. His body went rigid as the light passed over his legs and dissipated into the platform below his feet.
A quick burst of gunfire sprayed against the other side of Colton’s pillar and he pulled his head back.
After that, silence.
Someone started clapping, slowly and steadily.
“Well done,” said a voice.
It was Bernam.
Reece screamed again and Colton looked at the machine. Blue light slowly brightened within his ribcage and grew strong enough to outline the bones in his chest. Colton saw a dark, pulsing spot in Reece’s ribcage—his heart.
The light was pulled out from his torso, down his arms and legs, and into the restraints that bound him. The machine hummed loudly as lights flashed across every tube and metal container.
Bernam stood next to the machine, surrounded by the three guards. He admired it with the glossy eyes of a man who was watching his child use a fork to eat food for the first time. He clasped his hands in front of his mouth and smiled.
Shelly stood next to one of the nearby pillars. She looked frightened when she glanced over her shoulder at Alistair, who was standing in the shadows next to the machine. His face was shrouded in darkness, but Colton could tell that he was staring directly at him.
“Well done indeed,” said Bernam. He smoothed down the front of his slim, black suit and turned to face the elevator. “You can come out now. I won’t hurt you.”
Corva shook her head when Colton looked over.
