by R. D. Brady
Max nodded, not because he believed it, but because he knew Maddox needed to think he did.
“All right, then, scoot down.” Max did, and Maddox pulled the blankets over him, tucking them around him. He leaned down and kissed his cheek. “I love you, Max, always and forever.”
“No matter what,” Max said, finishing their nightly ritual.
Maddox smiled. “You got that right. Now try and sleep, okay?”
Max nodded. He watched Maddox leave the room, his head almost touching the top of the doorway. Maddox was so powerful, it was almost impossible to imagine that someone could defeat him. But Max knew no one was invulnerable, not yet. And now Maddox had two very large weaknesses—Max and his mom.
The clock ticked away in his brain, a constant metronome keeping time to the minutes that passed. Max thought the ticking, loud as it was, would keep him awake. But it didn’t. Its consistent beat lulled him into sleep, even as he fought it, and finally his brain succumbed. He slipped into oblivion.
And he stayed there, in a dreamless sleep, right up until the moment the clock stopped.
Max jolted awake. The silence was terrifying after a week of the clock ticking away. A scream sounded from downstairs.
“Mom.” Max scrambled out of his covers, his feet getting caught in them. Maddox roared, and something crashed downstairs. Max shoved his feet into his rain boots, clutching Lamby to his chest, his whole body shaking.
Mom. But where he normally felt the comfort of her presence in his mind, there was now an empty space. He took a step toward the door when someone blurred into his room.
Max’s scream was cut off by a hand over his mouth. Maddox crouched in front of him. “We need to go.”
Even in the dim light, he could make out the blood stained across Maddox’s shirt. Some of his hair had come loose from his ponytail. Without waiting for a reply, Maddox picked him up. Footsteps pounded up the stairs.
“Hold on, Max.” Maddox pushed his head to his chest, covering it with his hand before he burst through the window.
Max’s stomach dropped right along with their bodies, but he barely had time to register their descent before they hit the ground. Maddox rolled, keeping the ground from touching Max. And then they were running, blurring down streets.
Max’s ears were filled with the rush of wind. He kept his eyes shut tight, clutching Maddox’s shirt with one hand, his lamb to his chest with the other.
A sharp sound though cut through the roar of the wind. Maddox slowed. Another sound cut through. Maddox stumbled. Max tumbled out of his arms, hitting the ground hard.
Maddox grabbed him by the back of the shirt and yanked him behind a car. He pushed Max behind a tire, pulling his weapon as gunshots raked the car.
Maddox turned to Max. “They can sense me. That’s how they’re tracking us.” He took a breath. “When I tell you to, you need to run. You run as long and as far and as fast as you can, okay?”
Max nodded, noting the two gunshot wounds in Maddox’s arm and chest. He knew they were already healing, but Max knew there was at least one Fallen and three humans behind them. A car roared down the street toward them.
Maddox’s voice was fierce. “I will not let them get to you.”
Max nodded, tears welling in his eyes, his chin trembling.
Maddox leaned over the car and let off a volley of shots. Two screams sounded. He ducked back down. “Okay. Get ready.”
Max flung himself at Maddox, sobs tearing at him. Maddox clutched him tight. “No matter what happens, remember you are loved. You have always been loved.”
Max nodded.
Then Maddox pushed him away. “Run, Max, run!” Maddox leaped over the car, throwing himself on the Fallen blurring toward them.
Max got to his feet and ran in between the two houses near him. Gunshots tore up the earth next to him. Ahead, a fence loomed, but to the right was a small gap. With barely a pause, he slid through. Footsteps sounded behind him but then stopped at the fence with a curse. In the distance, Maddox roared. A man screamed.
But Max didn’t stop. He flung himself at the chain-link fence at the back of the yard and vaulted over. He dashed through the next yard and turned, going through a house at an angle from the house he’d just burst out from—just like Maddox had taught him. Never run in a straight line. It made you too easy to follow.
He continued running, going through yard after yard, never stopping, veering away from a straight path, never looking back.
He ran until his breathing was all but gone and his legs had turned to jelly. He sprinted across a road and didn’t see the dip in the ground. He tripped. His arms windmilled as he landed face-first in the drainage ditch. He pulled himself out of the water, keeping a grip on Lamby and crawled into the bushes on the other side. He couldn’t run anymore. He didn’t have any strength left, even though he knew he needed to keep going.
But his whole body was shutting down. Run, Max, run, Maddox urged him on in his mind. Max stifled a sob. I can’t.
His eyelids closed, even as he tried to force them open. He had no choice. He gave in to the dark.
A hand on his shoulder woke him. “Son? Son, are you all right?”
Max looked up at a man in a bright yellow vest with a construction helmet, who was crouched down next to him. Sunlight had chased away the night, confusing Max for a moment before everything came back. The clock. His mom’s scream. Maddox. His run.
He scampered back, clutching Lamby to him, letting out a whimper.
The man stepped back, and a police officer took his place. She reached out a hand but didn’t touch him. “Hi there. Can you tell me your name?”
She had blonde hair and tan skin. She looked a little like one of his teachers. “M-Max.”
The officer smiled. “Max. I bet people are looking for you. Why don’t we call your mom and dad?”
A deep well of grief surged up inside of him. “They’re dead.”
The police officer started for a moment before nodding. “Okay, Max. It’s all right. We’ll find out where—”
“Delaney,” he whispered.
“What’s that?”
He looked up into the officer’s green eyes. She had kind eyes. “Delaney McPhearson. She’s my family.”
Chapter 35
Laney’s footsteps echoed off the wall as she strode down the long, tiled hallway in the S.W.A.T. training building. The flight to Springfield had been uneventful. Laney had even slept, although it seemed less like sleep and more like her entire system had crashed. It was too much all at once. Too much pain, too much death. The human brain could only take so much.
Despite the rest, she felt only slightly better. She’d spoken with Jake before they’d deplaned. Henry was out of the woods, but Jen and his child were still in danger. Her uncle had been moved to a room. Henry was arranging his transport to Johns Hopkins. Jake was overseeing the estate. Yoni was wrangling the cats. And no one had any eyes on Elisabeta.
Anger pierced through Laney. The lights in the hallway flickered in response. Laney took a deep breath, yanking the anger back. Elisabeta would be dealt with, but right now, she needed to take care of Max. She wasn’t going to let her anger at Elisabeta get in the way of that.
“He’s in the rec room. The building’s not really set up for kids, but it’s got a TV and some video games,” the officer escorting her and Drake said.
Laney just nodded, not able to talk beyond the lump in her throat.
“Has he been playing any games?” Drake asked.
The officer shook his head. “No. He’s just sitting on the couch, hugging his stuffed lamb.”
The image elicited a strangled breath from Laney. She’d given Max that lamb the day he’d been born. She picked up her pace.
The officer made no comment, just picked up his pace as well. “Second door on your right past the hallway.”
Two officers stopped as they crossed the hallway, recognition flashing across their faces as they caught sight of Laney. She ignored
them, her focus on the open doorway with the sound of a TV coming from it. She stopped when she reached it. The room was carpeted with a brown commercial carpet. A small kitchenette was along the left-hand side. In front of her was a large flat screen playing some overacted Disney show. The back of a plaid couch faced her. Two officers who sat flanking the couch on club chairs stood as Laney entered.
She ignored them, focusing on the couch and the small patch of brown hair she could see resting on the armrest on the right.
Rounding the couch, Max came into view. He lay curled up, Lamby clutched to his chest, his eyes closed. She knelt down by his side and gently brushed the hair from his forehead back.
Oh, Max. He looked so young.
“I can carry him,” Drake said softly from behind her.
“No, I’ve got him.” She reached down to pick him up.
Max’s eyes fluttered open. “Laney?”
She stilled her hands, looking into his face. Seconds ago, he had looked so young. But now all she could see were the changes that made him look older. She’d missed him so much. “I’m here, Max.”
Tears filled his eyes and sobs burst from his chest as he flung himself at her. Laney clutched him to her as tightly as he had been clutching Lamby. “I’m so sorry, Max.”
Max only cried harder.
She dropped to the floor and pulled Max into her lap, letting him sob, and she sobbed right along with him.
Chapter 36
Washington, D.C.
Nervous tension ran along Nancy Harrigan’s shoulders and down her arm. She had just finished reading the report on the attacks on McPhearson’s people. They seemed to have been caught completely unaware. She pushed the file aside, staring off into the distance. It was a smart move on Elisabeta’s part, pushing Laney back on her heels. And she’d have to be. Elisabeta had just robbed Laney of her sense of security, her safe havens, and all of that had been right when it seemed she was about to get her old life back.
Nancy leaned over to her desktop and brought up the satellite feeds from Baltimore. The fire at the animal preserve had been put out, but the land inside the walls had been scorched. Miraculously, no animals had been killed. But there had been one casualty.
The Chandler estate hadn’t been completely destroyed, but the bombs had done damage. The main building was devastated, as were a few of the houses on Sharecropper’s Lane. They’d found twelve bodies so far, another thirty individuals had been taken to the hospital, including Henry Chandler and Jennifer Witt.
And then there was the attack on Delaney’s uncle, the priest. It wasn’t looking good for him, either. The scale and timing of the attacks was impressive. They’d all been hit almost simultaneously. The resources needed to pull that off were significant. And the fact that they were able to get bombs into the Chandler estate with all of his security—that was beyond worrisome. However, the fact that there had been no hint of any of these attacks was the larger concern.
Nancy’s phone buzzed. She reached over and punched the intercom. “What is it, Melanie?”
“The President is asking to see you in the Oval.”
Nancy’s hand hovered above the phone. This wasn’t going to be good. The President was supposed to be in a cabinet meeting right now. “Did she say what it was in reference to?”
“She said you would know.”
“Thank you.” She sat back, trying to discern how the President would interpret this new information. And she had a sinking feeling she knew. Slipping her shoes back on, she strode from the office. Fifteen minutes later, she was at the door to the Oval, which was being held open for her by the President’s executive assistant, Neil.
Nancy nodded her thanks as she stepped into the room, her heels sinking into the carpet. The President looked up from behind the Resolute desk and waved Nancy forward, pointing to a chair in front of the desk.
So it’s going to be that kind of meeting. Nancy took a seat. When the President was trying to win people to her side, she had them sit on the couches, with no barriers in between, as a way to build a connection. When she placed the Presidential desk between you and her, she was reminding you of the power of her office before she told you what was going to happen.
The President made some final notes on the iPad she was holding before she placed it on the desk. “I take it you are aware of the events in Baltimore and Pennsylvania?”
“And Illinois,” Nancy said. She’d received the news on the short drive over.
The President frowned. “Illinois?”
“Apparently another two of McPhearson’s associates were targeted. A man and a woman. The woman’s six-year-old son escaped, and McPhearson just dropped everything to go to him.”
“I see. Has there been any progress in tracking down Elisabeta?”
“Some, but nothing concrete. We believe she may have gotten weapons from an overlord in eastern Sudan, but that hasn’t been confirmed. And there are rumblings she may be in one of the former Russian states, but again, nothing concrete.”
“Do you believe this is the end of Elisabeta’s focus on McPhearson?”
“No. I believe it is only the beginning.”
“We cannot have these incidents on American soil. Innocent Americans will be caught in the crossfire.”
Nancy had to bite her tongue to not correct her. Innocents had already been caught in the crossfire. None of those that had died or been injured had deserved what they had received.
“I have spoken with Patine at Homeland and my joint chiefs. They agree that the situation needs to be handled by the best of our forces, and that is not Delaney McPhearson.”
Nancy frowned. “I don’t think I’m following you.”
“I was allowing McPhearson to handle this, but it has spilled beyond her sphere of influence. And obviously she is not up to the task. McPhearson will be sidelined, and I have put a special task force together, of military and Homeland people, to track Elisabeta down and bring her to heel, using whatever force they feel is necessary.”
Nancy’s mouth went dry. “And what is Delaney McPhearson’s role in this?”
“To be determined. She may be an asset to the search, but if she gets in the way, she will be handled. She’s a former college professor, Nancy. Don’t make her out to be more than she is. And to be honest, I’m not entirely convinced yet that she is completely blameless in her previous incidents.”
“With all due respect, Madam President, I believe this is a mistake. I realize the situation surrounding McPhearson is unusual, but we know these enhanced humans exist, and she is the one equipped to deal with them.”
“Then she can tell us how to deal with them. McPhearson was not elected to office, she was not appointed by the government. She was not trained by us. She is a woman who has taken it upon herself to insert herself into situations that she is not qualified for.”
Nancy knew the President was wrong. But she also knew that despite the public showings of the President attending mass, she was a decades-old atheist. And she had no doubt those beliefs were clouding her judgment of McPhearson at this moment.
“And what is my role?”
“I believe it is best if you step back as well. Let the task force handle it. You will, of course, be copied on any of their actions.”
The dismissal in the President’s tone was clear. Nancy stood. “Thank you, Madam President.”
With a nod of her head, she strode for the door, her feet sinking once again into the carpet, matching the sinking feeling in her stomach, telling her that they were all making a huge mistake.
Chapter 37
Springfield, Illinois
Drake carried Max from the police building and onto the plane, and he’d fallen into an exhausted sleep almost immediately. Laney felt just as tired. Now, as the plane taxied down the runway, she sat with her feet curled up under her and Max’s head in her lap. She adjusted the blanket over him, making sure he was covered before resting her hand on his arm. Cleo lay half on the ground, half on the se
at, one paw and her head over Max’s legs.
Kati was gone. Maddox, too. It was difficult to believe. But she’d seen the crime scene photos. Drake had tried to keep them from her, but Laney knew she needed to see. Kati’s neck had been broken. It had at least been quick. But Maddox—that had not been quick. And Laney knew that Maddox had spent his last breath fighting to make sure that Max had time to get away.
She stifled a sob, pulling it back, not wanting to wake Max. The Fallen had somehow found Max. That meant his child status was no protection. In hindsight, she’d been a fool to think it would be. After all, they had been under the orders of a woman who had rounded up dozens of children barely more than infants to find Victoria. Max, with his developing precognitive abilities, was no doubt a prize that Elisabeta wanted in her arsenal.
Drake sat down across from her. “You should eat something.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“When is the last time you ate?”
She stared at him in annoyance. “I don’t think my eating habits are a priority right now.”
“I disagree. You need to keep up your strength. Samyaza is targeting the people you care about to weaken you. To pull your focus. You need to keep the goal in mind.”
“The goal? She—” Laney glanced down at Max, who was in a deep sleep, and she shifted to a fierce whisper. “Zach is dead. She killed Kati and Maddox. She tried to kill Victoria. My uncle may be paralyzed. And the list goes on. How the hell am I supposed to stay focused?”
Drake met her gaze. “No matter what happens, no matter who gets killed or hurt, you must stay focused. Because you are the one who can defeat Samyaza. If you are not in the fight, then there will be more children who lose their parents. There will be more people who are damaged beyond repair. The rest of us can fight, but you need to lead.”
Laney bit her lip, feeling the anger, the loss, the frustration. “I’m not ready for this.”
