Dylan choked on a sob. “Dad, I killed someone,” he said into his father's shoulder. “I killed someone.”
His father pulled away and gripped his shoulder, looking him right in the eye. “You saved my life.” He gave him a little shake, and Dylan nodded, brushing away tears.
“It's not going to be easy,” he said. “It wasn't for any of your predecessors. But I have faith in you. You can do this. You all can.”
With a watery smile, Dylan asked, “How are you so sure?”
“Because I know you.” He shook him again before releasing him. “I'm only going to ask one thing.”
“What?”
“Your mom. We need to keep her out of it.”
Dylan swallowed. The thought of his mother being pulled into the battle. Of her being hurt. He didn't even have to think twice about his answer. “Of course. I'll do whatever I can to protect her. To protect both of you.”
“I'm sure you will, son,” he said gravely. Joseph took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Now, how about a bowl of ice cream? I'm recovering here.” He relaxed against the arm of the sofa and nudged Dylan with his feet. “And a blanket?”
Dylan laughed and got up to head toward the kitchen. “You're going to milk this for all it’s worth, aren't you?”
“You know it.”
He paused in the doorway and looked back at his father. “You know, we could use all the help we can get.”
His dad's eyes were closed, but he smiled. “I thought you'd never ask.”
Dylan grinned and went to get the ice cream.
That weekend, they all met at Dylan's house. Professor Kennedy took an emergency sabbatical under the pretense of needing to recover from his injuries, although it was as much to help The Order as anything else. Chloe appreciated that more than he would ever know.
Only one person was notably absent.
“Where's Ethan?” Dylan asked once they'd all settled around the kitchen table.
Chloe exchanged a heavy look with Miranda before responding.
“That's what I wanted to talk to you all about,” she said. “We need to keep Ethan out of this.”
“What?” Beck looked surprised, almost outraged. “What are you talking about?”
“Chloe had a vision,” Miranda replied quietly. “A bad one.”
“If Ethan fights with us, he's going to die,” Chloe said, fighting tears at the horrible words. Someone gasped, although she couldn’t say who. The room settled into an uneasy silence.
“That’s what you saw?” Wren asked quietly. “On Christmas Eve? That’s the vision you had?” She shot a wounded look at Miranda.
“I’m sorry,” she began.
“It’s not Miranda’s fault,” Chloe said. “I asked her not to tell anyone. Not until I figured out what to do about it.”
“But . . . you don't know for sure, right?” Beck asked. “You said yourself that your visions aren't set in stone.”
“I know.” Chloe stood up and leaned forward, her hands on the table. “I know it might not happen. I know we might be able to figure out a way to protect him. Believe me, I've gone round and round about this.
“But I can't take the risk,” she said, slapping one hand down heavily. “I can't risk Ethan's life based on what we might be able to do.”
She looked around the group in the resounding silence. “Gina told me . . . that day in the quad, she told me It wants Ethan. It wants to consume him. She said It couldn't wait to get ahold of him.”
“Why Ethan?” Wren asked.
“I don't know. I don't know if Gina was lying or trying to get a rise out of me, but I know what I saw.” Chloe straightened and rubbed her eyes. “I can't—we can't let him be a part of this.”
Beck let out a resigned sigh. “You should talk to him.”
“I did. He won't back down.”
“No, I suppose he wouldn't,” he replied, leaning back in his chair. “So how do you plan on keeping him away?”
“You can't,” Maia said. “Not entirely, at least.”
Chloe nodded. “You’re right. We'll have to include him in training, but when we figure out this final fight—the big one in my vision—when we figure out how and when that's going to happen, we'll need to keep it from Ethan.”
“You mean lie to him,” Beck said flatly.
“Do you have a better suggestion?”
Beck let his gaze fall to the table and said nothing.
“Maybe it won't come to that,” Professor Kennedy offered. He was standing at the kitchen counter, sipping coffee and listening to the conversation.
“What do you mean?” Dylan asked.
He pursed his lips in thought, staring into his cup for a moment. “You were able to stop the people at the library, and when you restrained them, they were freed from the possession.”
“Yeah,” Chloe said thoughtfully.
Dylan leaned back in his chair. “You think we can get to the people before It gains enough power for the big attack? Kind of stop it before it starts?”
His dad shrugged. “It's worth a shot.”
“But how?” Miranda asked.
“We need to be more proactive,” Dylan replied. “Try to get to them before the police do.”
“I have an old scanner,” his dad said. “Might give us a head start.”
“And then what?” Maia asked. “We tie them up and do some kind of exorcism? Will that even work?”
Everyone looked toward Beck, who shrugged. “Like the man said, it's worth a shot.”
“Okay, now what?” Chloe crouched with Dylan under his shield and winced at the man—no, two men now—pounding their fists against it.
“What do you mean . . . Now what?” Dylan replied, brow creased in concentration. “I'm doing my part, now it's your turn.”
“My turn? I don't think I agreed to that!”
“You agreed to work with me.” He flailed a bit. “I do the shield. That's my thing.”
Chloe let out an exasperated groan. It had been about two and a half weeks since they decided to try and get to the possessed and bring them back in a one-on-one—or in this case two-on-two situation. The nip it in the bud strategy, according to Dylan.
It wasn't going so well.
“Too bad you can't reverse it,” she said. “Trap them in here and put us out there.”
Dylan arched a brow and shoved up his glasses as he said sarcastically, “Yeah. That is too bad.”
“It's just a suggestion.”
“Well, I can't do that, so how about another suggestion?” he asked, jaw clenched. “I can't keep this going all night.”
They'd decided to divide up in teams of two or three for nightly patrols, with everyone getting a night off every three days. So far, they'd taken on vandals and troublemakers just about every night, but beyond that they hadn't learned anything new about their enemy, or forced It to retreat unless It wanted to. It would taunt them, laugh in their faces until It got bored and black smoke oozed from mouths and noses, leaving an exhausted host behind, confused and disoriented.
It was Chloe and Dylan's turn on patrol and they'd heard the report of a fist fight on the police scanner. Lately, “fight” and “vandalism” had become synonymous with “supernatural event” so they sped to the parking lot of an abandoned gas station to find a man systematically breaking out all the windows as he laughed uproariously.
It all went downhill from there.
Chloe cursed at the sound of nearing sirens. “We've got to get out of here. Can't you knock them back or something?” The men were all but lying on the shield, their feet slipping on the asphalt as they pushed against it. It rippled a little, but held, although Dylan grimaced at the effort.
“I've only done that once, and I have no idea how.”
Chloe frowned and scanned their surroundings, hoping for some inspiration.
“Okay,” she said, yanking a set of handcuffs out of her back pocket. “I have an idea. You got your cuffs?”
Dylan retrieved his set. “What are we
going to do?”
She eyed the men, still shoving at the shield, and lowered her voice, speaking into his ear. “When I say go, lower the shield.”
“You sure about this?”
“Yeah.” She took up a spot on one side of the shield bubble, while Dylan moved away to the other. “Now!” she shouted, and Dylan dropped the shield. The two men immediately fell to the ground between them, and Chloe and Dylan jumped onto their backs and snapped on the handcuffs.
Dylan grinned at her. “Piece of cake!”
“Freeze!” a voice shouted from behind them, and Chloe winced. She peeked over her shoulder.
“Uh oh,” she muttered, just as the police officer currently pointing a gun in their direction shouted, “Hands above your head!”
“I can't believe we're in the big house.”
Chloe rolled her eyes and slouched down in the hard chair next to Dylan. “The Gatesburg Police Station hardly qualifies as hard time.”
He sighed and stretched out his legs. “You think this will go on our permanent record?”
“They didn't arrest us, Dylan. They called your dad.”
He shrugged. “They did call us vigilantes, though. That was pretty cool.”
Chloe snorted. Dylan had a strange idea of what was “cool.”
A rush of chilly air swept by them as the glass door opened, and Professor Kennedy walked in, wearing mismatched clothes and his hair sticking up like he'd been asleep. His sling was gone, but the cast on his still-healing wrist poked out from beneath his right sleeve. He spotted them instantly and approached the front desk to arrange for their release.
After a few minutes, the officer waved them over, a stern look on his face.
“I hope you've both learned a lesson,” he said. “A desire for justice is all well and good, but leave the police work to the police from now on.”
They nodded, and Chloe hoped they looked appropriately chastised.
They left together in silence, not speaking until they were safe in the car and on their way down the road.
“Thanks for picking us up,” Chloe said.
The professor nodded. “You two want to tell me what happened?”
Dylan winced. “Well, we tried—”
“—because I thought the agreement was this little experiment was only allowed as long as you stayed off the radar where the police were concerned.” Professor Kennedy shot him a look.
“I know,” Dylan groaned.
“And I thought you were going to take on one at a time.”
Dylan's head shot up. “How did you—”
“The police officer told me, how do you think?” The professor ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “This is dangerous enough without you guys doing something crazy like trying to take on two—”
“Well, to be fair, there was only one at first. The other guy came along later.”
“Dylan—”
“Dad, I know. I know. But seriously, we didn't do it on purpose.”
Professor Kennedy sighed heavily. “I think we're going to have to talk about this strategy of yours, because I don't think it's very effective.” He glanced at Chloe through the rearview mirror. “I think your aunt agrees with me.”
“You told her?”
“I'm not keeping secrets for you,” the professor said. “She deserves to know the truth.”
Chloe slumped into the back seat and nodded. She'd filled her aunt in on most things, but had strategically left out the plan for the nightly patrols. Chloe was sure a rather unpleasant conversation lay ahead of her. She checked her phone and found three missed calls and two voice mails from Aunt Cara. She didn't relish listening to those messages.
She yawned, frustrated and exhausted. The Order seemed to be fighting a losing battle, Chaos toying with them and fleeing when it lost interest. Sure, they’d made some captures, but there were only more possessed people the next night . . . and the next. And even the same people again—re-possessed, for lack of a better term.
Despite herself, Chloe smirked. Repossessed. She obviously needed more sleep if she found that funny.
The Kennedys dropped her off in front of the Victorian and she waved weakly at Dylan before heading in, Miranda holding the door open with a tired look on her face. She was fully dressed, and Chloe realized for the first time that the sky had lightened a bit. It was already morning.
“Hi,” she said.
“Your aunt wants you to call,” Miranda replied. “Sorry.”
Chloe nodded. “I'll do it a little later. I'm wiped.”
Miranda shut the front door behind her. “You going to class today?”
“Ugh.” Chloe collapsed onto the sofa, unable to even make it up the stairs. “Maybe? I'm going to take a nap first.” She tossed her phone onto the coffee table and closed her eyes.
Miranda covered her with an afghan and Chloe muttered a thanks. She was almost asleep when her phone vibrated. With a groan, she opened one eye and peered at the name on the display.
Aunt Cara.
She knew if she ignored it, her aunt would only call back, so she took a deep breath and answered the call.
“Hello?”
“Are you all right?”
Guilt clenched in Chloe's gut at the worry in her aunt's voice. “I'm fine. I promise.”
“Chloe, I think it's time you tell me what's going on,” Aunt Cara said. “And I mean everything.”
Chloe fought back a sigh and gave up on the idea of sleeping anytime soon.
“Okay,” she replied. “But just remember, you asked for it.”
That evening, everyone convened in Chloe's living room—the members of The Order, including Ethan, although he wasn't technically a member, and Chloe would cut him out of the whole thing if she could—and the parents in-the-know, namely Professor Kennedy and Chloe's Aunt Cara via speakerphone. She'd handled Chloe's revelations pretty well, all things considered, but insisted on being kept in the loop from then on. She'd even threatened to come to Gatesburg and move into one of the empty rooms in the Victorian if Chloe failed to keep her informed. Chloe thought the speakerphone thing was an acceptable compromise.
Four pizza boxes lay open and strewn about the room as they ate, talking about school, sports . . . anything except what they'd come to discuss. They waited until Maia stumbled in the door, muttering apologies for getting caught up in her thesis research and not realizing the time. She grabbed a cold slice and a can of Coke and plopped down next to Miranda on the couch, nodding at Chloe.
Chloe, in turn, nodded at Wren, who vanished immediately, only to appear seconds later.
“Anyone?” Chloe asked.
Wren shook her head. “Nobody I could see. I checked the whole block.”
“In back, too?”
“Yeah. If they're out there, they're too far away to hear what we're saying.”
Beck took a post by the front window and Ethan moved to the back door where he could keep an eye out and still hear what was being said.
Chloe got up and moved in front of the fireplace. “Okay, so . . . We all agreed that trying to intervene ahead of time was our best tactic, but I think we can all see now that it's not really accomplishing much.”
Dylan yawned widely. “Except exhausting all of us.”
“Yeah,” she agreed, rubbing at her own gritty eyes. “Even taking shifts, we can't keep this up for long.”
“We caught that one guy,” Beck pointed out. “The one at the bike store.”
“But he was back two nights later,” Wren said.
“It's like It’s toying with us,” Chloe said, shaking her head. “Making us chase our tails. Tiring us out.”
“That's what It does,” Professor Kennedy said, shaking his can and setting it down when he found it empty. “It creates turmoil—chaos—It feeds off it. So, all of the fighting? It actually may be doing more harm than good.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, their minds absorbing that information . . . trying to find a solution, or at least a pla
ce to start.
“Maybe we need to back up,” Miranda said finally, picking her laptop up off the coffee table and opening the lid. “Start at the beginning and go through everything we know, thoroughly and methodically.” She tapped at the keyboard then looked at Chloe.
“Let's start with the visions and go from there,” she said.
Chloe sighed. “We've done this already.”
“You and I have, but the others haven't,” Miranda replied. “They may pick up on things we haven't. You know, two heads are better than one and all.” She waved a hand. “Let's go. And don't skim the details.”
“Okay.” Chloe closed her eyes and breathed deeply for a moment, trying to conjure up the memory of her recent visions. “The most recent vision was of the fight the other night at the grocery store.”
She went through the details, answering questions when they came up, as Miranda took detailed notes, her fingers never slowing on the computer keyboard. Chloe detailed the visions she'd had of the fire at the library, the fight outside the pizza place, even back to the vision of Beck fighting Gina, Maia at the career fair, and the various members of The Order coming to her attic for the first time.
“You didn't see me ahead of time,” Dylan pointed out.
Chloe frowned. “No. Do you think that's significant?”
He shrugged. “Just thinking. You haven't seen any others lately, but that doesn't necessarily mean there aren't more, you know?”
She tipped her head in acknowledgment. “I guess not.”
“Okay,” Miranda tapped a few more keys with a flourish. “Now on to the big one. The Ultimate Battle for the Fate and Future of Humanity.”
“You're really calling it that?” Beck asked.
“What?” Miranda looked affronted. “The UB-triple-F-H. It’s awesome. You got a better name for it?”
“It's kind of wordy,” Maia said. “Maybe just Ultimate Battle.”
“Or Armageddon,” Dylan offered. “Seems apropos.”
“I can't believe this,” Chloe muttered. “It doesn't matter what we call it, guys.”
“Fine.” Miranda hit her backspace button a few times. “Ultimate Battle it is. Now—” she motioned for Chloe to proceed—“the vision.”
Super Natural: The New Super Humans, Book Three Page 9
