Born to Darkness

by Suzanne Brockmann

  But he didn’t give up—he couldn’t—and he tried to find a way in, a weakness in the shield, perhaps a chink where he could squeeze through and jam the engine, make it stall, but that didn’t work either.

  Stephen could see the guards and some of the Thirties and Forties come out of Old Main as he kept running toward Anna and Mac, but there was nothing anyone besides Bach could possibly do to help.

  But Bach wasn’t there. Stephen couldn’t feel him—wherever the Seventy-two was, he was far, far away.

  And whoever was manning the weapons system on that gunship saw all those men and women spilling out of the building, and clearly had no idea that they were armed with little more than Tasers and trank guns. Or maybe they did know, and they were just motherfuckers, because Stephen knew with a hard, cold certainty that they were going to fire those machine guns. And he also knew with a sense of icy fear that those guns were—somehow—shielded, too. Still, he tried, with all of his might, to stop their bullets. He slowed one of the guns down, but he couldn’t stop them both. And as he felt the other break through his defense, he threw all of his own shielding powers, all of his self-protection, back toward Elliot, to keep him safe, right before that burst of machine-gun fire cracked and pinged against the building, shattering the glass in the windows and front doors.

  And as the gunship swung back around, like some kind of death-spewing monster, Stephen felt something hit him hard in the back, again, and then again, and his legs crumpled beneath him and he went down, even as he saw Mac throw herself on top of Anna, as a trail of bullets tore up the turf around them, sending bits of dirt exploding into the air.

  As he tried—and failed—to pull himself back to his feet, he saw the spray of blood as Mac was hit, saw three dark figures fast-roping down from the helicopter, saw one of them pull Mac’s lifeless body off of Anna, who was kicking and screaming valiantly, but didn’t stand a chance against three large men, particularly since Mac, before she was shot, had clipped her wrist to Anna’s with one of the plastic restraints she always carried in her pockets.

  Then one of the men hit Anna in the head with the butt of his rifle, and she slumped to the ground.

  And as Stephen crawled toward them, still trying to reach them, as the gunship throbbed and thrummed overhead, the three dark-clothed men picked up both Anna and Mac. And all five of them were pulled up through the open door and into the cabin, even as it rocketed away.

  Stephen rolled onto his side to watch it, a shrinking black shape, vanishing into the brilliant blue of the morning sky.

  Only then, in defeat, did he allow himself to see the bright red of his own blood that was pooling around him, beneath him. He reached down to touch the sodden front of his shirt, to finger the hole in the fabric.

  His stomach was bleeding—an exit wound from one of the bullets that had hit him in the back.

  He was cold and his vision was tunneling, which couldn’t be good, but still, his heart leapt as Elliot’s face came into view. “You’re alive,” he said, but he couldn’t hear his voice, so maybe he didn’t get the words out.

  Elliot was in full-medical-doctor mode, shouting for a stretcher and an IV, plasma extender, and something sterile to stop the flow of blood. He must’ve decided that sterile wasn’t as big a priority as immediate, because he whipped off his shirt and used it to apply pressure to Stephen’s back.

  As always, their connection clicked on.

  God damn it, god damn it, god damn it, don’t you die on me, you son of a bitch! Work with me now, work it—keep your blood flow away from your wounds. You can do this, stay with me!

  This would be easier, since Stephen didn’t have to manipulate his throat and mouth to speak. And yet he couldn’t seem to organize his thoughts. He just kept flashing back to his apartment, to the too-short time he’d spent with this amazing man, in each others’ arms. El. Love you.

  Don’t you dare give me that kind of last word bullshit, you asshole! I was safe in there! I was safe! Why didn’t you trust me? You should have trusted me to stay inside! You should have shielded yourself!

  Afraid, Stephen told him as he felt himself picked up and put on a gurney, as he felt them both moving fast, then faster, back toward the building, that bullets would go through. Walls. Windows. Hit you.

  Yeah, well, they didn’t!

  Did, too. He didn’t know how he knew that, but he did. As they carried him through the front doors, moving double time, they passed the very spot where he knew, without a doubt, that Elliot would have died had Stephen not thrown his protection over him. But I did it. I changed the future. His heart ached as he remembered Anna and Mac, being taken away. Part of it, anyway …

  He still wasn’t quite sure what had happened, why Anna had run outside, but he remembered, vaguely, hearing something she’d said to Mac, and he pushed that memory at Elliot as hard as he could. It was something Bach would need to know.

  “There’s a girl,” Anna had shouted, “who’s a prisoner, with Nika, and she’s sending me a message—she’s projecting a message! She’s going to escape with Nika, she’s going to help! But there’s this weird interference, this noise in my head, and I’ve got to get outside!”

  Dear God, Elliot realized. It was a trap. Whoever they were, they came to get Anna, and they tricked her into going outside.

  God, Stephen was tired and so very, very cold …

  Enhance, Elliot told him, sharply. Stephen, stay with me! I need you to focus on healing …

  But the darkness was pressing down on him, and the pain was starting to register and he was too weak to fight it. He just wanted to sink back into his memory of … was it just yesterday morning? When he first kissed Elliot, while sitting on his sofa …

  Best coupla days of my life, he told Elliot. Love you always.

  And he surrendered to the darkness.

  “He’s flat-lining!” Elliot was shouting as Stephen Diaz, covered in blood, was wheeled into OI’s Medical Center.

  Shane had started to run when he saw the gunship bearing down on the main OI building.

  He’d taken the T out to Riverside, and then walked the rest of the way to the compound, uncertain as to his reception at the gate when he arrived.

  But the guards didn’t question his right to be there. They just searched him for weapons, and when he was cleared, they offered him a ride up the hill.

  Which he’d declined because he hadn’t wanted to get there too soon. He still hadn’t figured out what he was going to say to Mac when he saw her again.

  Or even if he should say anything aside from Good morning.

  But the disappointment he’d felt upon waking up alone vanished when he saw the helicopter attack, and saw Mac get shot—again.

  Shot and abducted, along with Anna Taylor.

  He ran toward them, shouting, and got a hail of bullets for his trouble. But luck was with him and as he dove and rolled, he wasn’t hit.

  But Stephen Diaz had been, and Jesus, the man was a mess. Elliot was already kneeling beside him, silently working to stop the bleeding. Shane helped, too, tearing off his own borrowed T-shirt to try to stanch the flow.

  He’d seen his share of mortal wounds on various battlefields around the world, and this was, without a doubt, a life-ender. If the hospital hadn’t been so close, it would have unquestionably been time to administer the morphine and make the man’s last moments on earth more comfortable. But the hospital was just inside, and Elliot clearly wasn’t ready to give up and let go.

  Shane could relate, because part of him was up in that helo, with Mac—please God, keep her alive until he could find her and bring her back …

  He helped carry Diaz inside, helped race him into the Med Center, where the man promptly died.

  But Elliot apparently wasn’t going to accept that, either, because now he was shouting for the defibrillator and the paddles, and ten cc’s of God only knew what.

  And Shane stepped back, out of the way, to let the medical team work.

  “Where�
��s Bach?” he asked one of the guards, who was covered in almost as much blood as Shane was.

  The man looked dazed, and just shook his head. There were other wounded, too, but all were superficial, at least compared to Diaz. And all of the Greater-Thans had managed to protect themselves. But right now, nobody seemed to know what to do.

  With Elliot busy, Mac abducted, and Diaz out of commission, someone had to take command. So Shane stepped to the nearest comm-station and logged in.

  “Computer, connect me with Analysis,” he ordered. “I want all satellites tracking the gunship that just took Anna Taylor and Michelle Mackenzie. I want any new information on the location of Nika Taylor, and I want to find and alert Dr. Bach—immediately.”

  “Dr. Bach is in his office,” the computer told him. “He is not to be disturbed.”

  “Disturb him anyway,” Shane commanded.

  “Dr. Bach is not to be disturbed.”

  Fuck that. Shane knew where Bach’s office was, and he took off for it at a run.

  TWENTY-SIX

  They held the meeting in the hall outside of Stephen Diaz’s room in the ICU.

  Elliot had managed to get Diaz’s heart beating again, and had brought him into surgery to clean out his wounds and try to help repair the damage done. During the course of that, the Greater-Than’s heart had stopped twice more.

  The doctor now looked a little shell-shocked, but Shane had to give the man credit. Whatever happened to Diaz—however this ended—it wasn’t going to be because Elliot had given up.

  Dr. Bach was looking extremely gray, too. He was, quite literally, in two places at once, and the strain on his physical body was intense. Shane had found him curled in a ball behind his desk, in an office that looked as if a hurricane had blasted through it.

  The bookshelves had been knocked over, and artwork hung at odd angles. Books and files had been shredded and littered the floor. And about a dozen pens were stuck, point first, into the wall, as if they’d been flung there like darts, with enormous force.

  And, to add just a little more fuck to the what, when Bach roused, he looked around with surprise, as if he didn’t remember doing any of that. He’d immediately started cleaning up—until the words Anna and Mac and helicopter abduction hit his ears.

  That had caught his complete attention. Complete, that is, except for the piece of him that was still locked in the Org’s Washington Street building with Nika.

  Together, Shane and Bach reviewed all the information that Analysis had compiled about the building and the Organization’s security detail inside. They read the notes from the meeting that Diaz, Anna, and Mac had had with Elliot, and agreed that the plan to send Shane inside to shut down their illegal medical scanners was their only real option.

  They also decided that Bach should and would gain full possession of Nika’s body, so he could protect her with his shielding abilities as they attempted to break free.

  Of course, now they had to add finding and freeing Anna and Mac to their to-do list.

  Assuming that the Organization’s leaders didn’t just immediately kill Mac when they realized she was a Greater-Than, and therefore a threat.

  But that kind of thinking didn’t serve Shane.

  “Maybe if we can figure out why they took Anna, we can narrow down the possibilities of where she and Mac are being held,” Shane said now.

  Elliot and Bach exchanged a glance. “We know why they took Anna,” Bach said. “The lengths they went to with this abduction confirm what we already believed—that the Organization has never seen a girl with Nika’s powers before, either.”

  Shane connected the dots. “So … They took Anna, hoping to gain access to another fountain?”

  Bach nodded, his mouth tight.

  “Except Anna’s a fraction,” Shane put voice to what they were all thinking, “and when they find that out, they’re not going to be happy.” So maybe this was going to be a rescue of only Nika, after all. It was looking more and more likely that for Mac and Anna, OI would do little more than recover their bodies.

  He saw that grim truth echoed in Bach’s eyes.

  Elliot was not as pessimistic. “Mac’s a fighter,” he reminded them. “If she’s allowed to stay with Anna, she’ll figure out a way to keep them both alive.”

  That was a pretty huge if, considering that both she and Anna were unconscious when pulled aboard the helo.

  But there were other aspects of the coming battle to focus on. “If you’re inside, with Nika,” Shane asked Bach, “and Diaz and Mac are obviously unavailable, who exactly is leading the Greater-Than assault team?”

  “Jackie Schultz already volunteered to do it,” Bach answered.

  It was a name Shane had never heard before. “Who’s Jackie Schultz?”

  “She’s not ready,” Elliot said. “For something like this?”

  “She’s the best of the Forties,” Bach countered grimly.

  “Wait a minute,” Shane said. “The best we’ve got is a Forty? Aren’t there any other Fifties? Are you seriously telling me that you and Mac and Diaz are it?”

  “Most Greater-Thans never integrate higher than thirty percent,” Elliot told him, and yeah, Shane had heard that before, but it hadn’t sunk in, not the way it was sinking now.

  “There are several known Fifties in New York City,” Bach said, “but it would take them too long to get here.”

  Several. The biggest city in America only had several Fifties. “I’m sorry,” Shane said. “I’m certain I should have known this, but I’m …” He looked at Elliot. “So Mac is …?”

  “One of maybe a hundred people, around the world, who have elevated to that elite integration level,” Elliot finished for him. “The number of Sixties is even lower. There’re maybe a few dozen. Fewer still of the Seventies.”

  So Mac, who was already, literally, one in a billion, had the chance—by hooking up with Shane—to move her integration level from fifty to sixty, and yet … She’d turned it and him down.

  “Huh,” Shane said and then brought his brain back on-topic. “So this girl, this Jackie—”

  Bach cut Shane off. “She’s not a girl, she’s a woman, and she’s a Forty, which means she’s significantly more integrated than you are. She’ll lead a team of a dozen Forties and Thirties—”

  “With all due respect, sir,” Shane said as mildly as he could manage, “you could well be sending those Greater-Thans to their deaths. Or worse—if their blood proves to be a viable source of the drug—”

  “You think I don’t know that?” Bach asked, his voice tight.

  “I think,” Shane said, “that you have no idea just how bad this could get.”

  But Bach’s face hardened. “And I think you should focus on your plan for getting inside the Brite Group’s security area.”

  Shane glanced again at the schematic of the Washington Street building that was up on the computer screen. He’d already memorized the layout of the lobby, the basement, the roof, and the floors in question—as well as several surrounding them in either direction. He knew where the elevators were, and he’d mentally marked the stairs. He knew the locations of the fire alarms and the air ducts—and every public men’s and ladies’ room in the building.

  Because sometimes the bathroom was the best place to hide.

  “My plan is ready to go,” Shane told Bach and Elliot, too. “I don’t suppose you have any C4 in storage …?” Yeah, and that was a great big no he was getting from Elliot, but just in case he was misreading a WTF look for a negative, he elaborated, “C4 plastic explosives …?”

  “Not a chance,” Elliot said, and Shane looked toward Bach, who had on his poker face, and who managed to surprise them both.

  “We actually do,” Bach said as he looked at Elliot. “In a special lockup, beneath the old auditorium building. Last year, Dr. Diaz urged me to start acquiring supplies of a military nature. I think he’s always been a bit prescient.” Back to Shane. “How much do you need?”

  “Not a l
ot,” he said. This was an awesome break—now he wouldn’t have to shop for black-market C4 before heading over to Washington Street. “I certainly won’t be able to bring much in without detection. I’ll take it in as sticks of gum. I’m not looking to bring down the building—just take out the scanners and the power source if I can.”

  “Why go to the trouble to disguise it as chewing gum,” Elliot asked, “if you’re going to sneak in?”

  “Never said I was sneaking in,” Shane told them. “And I didn’t say I wasn’t. I think I’m not going to reveal any further details to you, Dr. Bach, since you have direct access to Nika’s head, and she’s already under the Organization’s control. It’s better that she knows as little as possible.”

  Bach, despite his earlier testiness and his obvious fatigue, was a good enough leader not to take Shane’s words personally. “I think that’s wise.”

  “But how will you know when he’s in?” Elliot asked, but then answered his own question. “Because the scanners will go down. Analysis will be watching via satellite.”

  “And the Thirties and Forties will be waiting, nearby, ready to enter.” Bach nodded. “Meanwhile, I’ll break Nika out from the inside.”

  Shane stood up. “Where do I go to get that C4?”

  Bach rose, too, but stiffly, as if his back were aching. “I’ll have someone get it for you.”

  “What should I be doing?” Elliot asked.

  Bach stopped for a moment, briefly resting his hand on the other man’s shoulder. “You’re doing it,” he told the doctor, who glanced back in to where machines were both breathing for Diaz and keeping his heart beating.

  “Before we’re dismissed,” Shane said. “There’s one more thing that we haven’t discussed, that I believe is important to consider, sir. The girl—the young woman—who contacted Anna. She projected a message into the head of a fraction, across a great distance. Whoever she is? She’s a pretty fucking powerful Greater-Than in her own right. And she’s working for the enemy.”

  Anna woke up with her heart racing, her head pounding, and her mouth dry.