David put an arm around her, wincing from the pain it caused him to move. She shied away from the grisly sight, hiding her face in the crook of his neck. For a moment longer, she cried, until anger returned.
El Tío didn’t try to kill David.
Archon did.
She didn’t kill El Tío.
Archon did.
Kate pulled herself tighter to David’s chest. His comforting her became her protecting him. She lifted her head and peered over his shoulder at the flickering of police lights in the hallway outside. Archon’s impatient sneer appeared in her mind, followed by the memory of pain as the stun collar knocked her senseless and kept her from his grasp.
You’re a dead man, Archon. I’m not even going to give you the chance to speak.
36
On One Condition
Aaron
The wind played on the abandoned merry-go-round, nudging it into a slow spin and making the rusty metal sing with a series of soft creaks and squeals. Aaron stuffed his hands in the pockets of his long coat and tapped his foot. He didn’t have much time to get back to Archon’s ‘compound’ before being missed. Perhaps it had been a good thing Anna remained in London. Maybe she’d stay there, in relative safety.
If nothing else, they’d arrive separately. Maybe he wouldn’t suspect anything. Archon seemed afraid to plunge into Aaron’s mind, a fact that afforded him a degree of comfort. Anna had no such protection. He’d have to hope the man’s blind faith in Aurora’s predictions—and his own arrogance—made him feel it unnecessary. He’d seen the doubt in her eyes. If the man looked into her thoughts now, things would get… messy.
“Aaron…” Division 0 Regional Commander Mikhail Kovalev stepped out from behind an old steel slide. “Why do you pick such somber places to meet?”
“This is the closest grey spot to the Police Admin Center.” He glanced at the broken play equipment. “It is a bit morose, though, isn’t it?”
Mikhail stopped close enough for a shake, but left his hands in his pockets. “What happened in London?”
“This Archon chap’s less stable than we thought. He’s been manipulating people. Programmed everyone Anna knew into hating her so she’d leave Britain. He’s got his fingers into Mi6 as well. Wouldn’t be surprised if he’s got C-Branch in his pocket too.”
“Doubtful.” Mikhail chuckled. “Far too many synthetics and AIs. The Brits are afraid of them—perhaps rightly so. Anything out of whack here would stand out.”
A moment of quiet passed.
“So, did you do it?” asked Mikhail.
Aaron lifted his gaze from the ground. “Eh? What?”
“You found her, didn’t you? Did you do what you wanted? Did it make you feel any better?”
“No.” He sighed. “Believe me, I tried, but she’s wif him now.”
Mikhail blinked.
“No, not with him like that.” Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose. “Talis is a suggestive as strong as Archon’s telepathy. Bloody hell my luck; she’s Awakened too.” He explained the deprogramming of Melissa’s parents as well as Anna’s friends, how it took three of them to undo what must’ve been a casual toss-off for Archon’s power. “I got the feeling he didn’t care all that much if the implant stuck. He only needed enough to get Anna out of the country. Still, it was a ballache to pluck loose. If he did an implant and really wanted it to be permanent, he’d be the only one capable of removing it.”
“Did that Hughes fellow help?”
Aaron made a noncommittal face. “I s’pose it’s possible. ‘E’s had a lot more practice at the whole telepathy thing than me. I had to boost him. Either way, it won’t be long before he knows Anna’s ‘avin’ doubts, an’ when that happens, things are going to go pear-shaped in a spectacularly bad way.”
Mikhail leaned forward, his expression serious. “You may be the only way we can stop him. Your… condition protects you from his influence. I’d prefer this dog didn’t run out the back door. If the military gets wind of it, I can’t guarantee you Zero will be able to keep things under control. They won’t care what they shoot at.”
“More than half of ‘em are kids, Mik. He’s importin’ ‘em from all over the world. Sometimes I almost believe his bullshit about ‘finding a better life.’ They’re scouting out colony worlds, and seem to be runnin’ logistics. The bloke’s even been posting images of what the city he’s going to build will look like.”
“There’s still the matter of his theft of a military starship worth hundreds of billions.”
“Aye. Somethin else ain’t sittin’ right with me either.” Aaron gestured to the side. “Well, if he’s so concerned about protecting psionics, why’s he get his knickers in a twist if one of ‘em doesn’t want to go with him? Especially anyone he thinks is Awakened. I wonder how many of those people really want to be there.”
“He knows she is Awakened.” Mikhail squinted into the east. “We’ve been expecting him to make a move on the healer child.”
Aaron shook his head. “I doubt that. According to Anna, he’s afraid of her.”
Mikhail raised both eyebrows.
“I know…” Aaron chuckled. “She’s about as far from scary as I imagine a person can get.”
“We need you, Aaron. You said you were ready to talk. Say the word.”
“I want something.” Aaron stuffed his hands in his pockets and pursed his lips at the ground.
“A hundred million and a hovercar to Mexico?” Mikhail chuckled.
“Whatever happens… However the dust settles… I need you to guarantee Anna won’t be prosecuted.”
“You know Carter will only go for the compulsion thing so many times.”
“Thing?” Aaron looked up. “You know it’s the truth. She’s not like him at all. He’s influenced her. Look me in the eye and tell me they haven’t turned a blind eye to worse in the name of public perception.”
Mikhail stared at him.
“Come on, what’s she done that’s worse than some of the others who’ve gotten a pass.”
“There was a hostage incident at the Timmons-Orben facility five years ago. None of the victims remembered anything at all. Even Ashford couldn’t unearth the memory. Several security officers were killed, and some witnesses reported seeing a woman fitting her description.”
“Off the record?”
Mikhail nodded. “Sure.”
“She was there. She’s also the reason everyone in the lab wasn’t killed. Archon wanted to kill them all, but she refused.”
“Aaron.” Mikhail’s expression softened. “You went in to protect her, didn’t you?”
“Damn empath.” Aaron chuckled.
“It’s not completely up to me, but I’ll do everything I can.” Mikhail flashed a fox’s smile. “I didn’t need empathy to see your feelings for her.”
Aaron glanced at him for a moment, at the sky for a moment more, and offered a hand. “Alright.”
“Welcome back, Lieutenant.”
Aaron blinked. “Lieutenant? I was tactical.”
Mikhail chuckled. “You’re Awakened?”
“So I’ve been told.”
“Consider this a transfer to I-Ops. I’m sure they’ll have some questions.”
“Aye.” He pursed his lips. “As long as there’s no probing involved.”
“Don’t worry, Aaron.” Mikhail smiled. “They’ll warm the instruments first.”
37
Number Six Woodseer St
Anna
Five years hadn’t done much to improve the condition of Anna’s old home. She rested a hand on the thin metal fence and sighed at the tiny, unkempt yard. The grass had become too thick to tell if her old, pink bicycle still rotted in the overgrown lawn. Not that anyone would steal it.
The building held six flats, but none showed a trace of life. Anna looked up at the black square of plexi that used to be her bedroom window. She pushed open the gate, which made a wrenching squeal of metal on metal that set the hairs on the back of her neck
on end. Three steps up the walkpath, she felt watched. Of course, the locals would take notice of anyone visiting this place. Ignoring the sense of eyes upon her, she climbed the stoop.
She had little trouble tricking the front door lock—an old, familiar circuit—into opening. A little jolt to the right contact and the bar snapped out of the way. Green-grey mold crept up the otherwise white walls of a narrow staircase. A dark brown door to her left offered entry to the first floor flat.
I wonder what became of Mrs. Morris. The scent of fresh-baked ginger cookies came to mind.
Anna went up the stairs to the second-floor landing.
Mr. Pertwee and his ‘daughter.’ Anna smirked at remembering the way her father referred to the young brunette. She shivered, not understanding what a twenty-something would be doing with a man old enough to be her grandfather. Money, probably.
Two moldering dolls sat on the third-floor landing. Anna kicked one out of her way. The siblings who lived beneath their flat often teased her whenever she had a visible bruise. The girl, Ella, seemed to take particular delight in having a ‘real’ family—both mother and father—and reminded Anna of that fact whenever possible. Her brother Christopher rather liked Anna, up until he tried to kiss her and got a shock. He’d not been able to look at her again.
I should pop in to see how he’s doing. Anna flashed a wicked grin, imagining a grown man screaming like a child and running.
Her mirth stopped at the fourth-floor landing, by the small, Epoxil-wood railing overlooking the stairs one flight down. The railing she dangled her legs through so many times after school, afraid to go in because he would be home.
She startled at a cold breeze and looked up at the door—an inch shy of closed. Old Bill hadn’t even taken the yellow crime scene tape down. She brushed it aside and walked in. Her former home looked (aside from more dust) identical to her memory of the place. At the sight of familiar drab-green walls, she covered her mouth and tried to swallow past the giant lump in her throat. Every missing paint chip, every gouge in the fake wood, every scuff on the floor had a memory. Not all were bad. Some scratches in the furniture showed where her tricycle crashed. She’d been four, and unable to wait for the rain to stop so she could ride it. Red stains marked the wall where she’d slipped in sock feet while trying to carry spaghetti dinner to her father when she was six.
He hadn’t even been angry with her.
Anna choked up and crept deeper into the flat. It felt like stepping sixteen years into the past. Everything looked exactly as it had the night she murdered him. The spilled synthbeer can on the living room rug amid a spray of popcorn, the knocked over table, the broken vase.
She stared at the mess for a moment and closed her eyes. In the blackness, she saw the Frictionless match on a shimmering holographic screen from her twelve-year-old perspective, sitting cross-legged on the rug in front of her father. Arsenal scored. Her anger came on so strong the holo-bar fried. Tears started before she could wail apologies. She’d knocked the table over running to get away; popcorn and beer went everywhere. He’d chased her to the kitchen.
When Anna opened her eyes, she found herself cowering on the kitchen floor. The room seemed smaller. She glanced upward at the hollow among the appliances where the food assembler had been. The police had taken it for testing. Anna lowered her arms and rolled forward onto her knees, rubbing her hand over the spot of floor where her father fell.
“I’m sorry, Pa. I didn’t mean to kill you.”
Her right shoulder twitched, as if a fat droplet of frigid rain struck her. She sat back, grasping the spot.
“Thanks, Lauren… Now you’ve got me expecting ghosts.”
A brush of chill traced up her cheek, making her shiver.
She stood and crept out of the kitchen to the back hallway, hesitating by her bedroom door. The voice of a constable echoed out of her memory, sounding distant as he asked if she wanted to take anything from her home before they left. She could have played along. Old Bill didn’t despise her then. Behind that door, she’d left her innocence.
Anna bit her lip and turned away, but the door creaked open without her touching it. She froze. Pink walls and carpet, posters of tween boy singers, and dolls. So many dolls. Everything her father ever bought as an apology for losing his temper. Monday’s bruise became Wednesday’s new gift. Anna covered her mouth with both hands, tears running down her face. Without realizing it, old habits kicked in. She wound up on her bed, curled in a ball, sobbing out of control into a pillow she hadn’t touched in sixteen years while clinging to her favorite doll—Madeline.
She wanted to go back in time and start over from that moment, damn Archon and all of it with him. If only she could’ve controlled her temper, the holo wouldn’t have fried in the middle of a game and her father wouldn’t have died.
Minutes later, a weak knock sounded at the bedroom door.
“Daddy?” She sat up, half expecting, half hoping to be a child again, waking from an awful dream.
Aurora peered around the wall, covered to the middle of the thigh by one of her father’s button-down shirts. “Almost.”
Anna blushed, glaring at the rug.
“I’m sorry for intruding.” Aurora padded over, eyeing the décor. “Ian Marbury… he was cute. I had a thing for him too back then. Can’t say I was ever a fan of this much pink, though. Surprising… never figured you for being a girly-girl.”
She looked at the holo-poster over her bed; the blond fourteen-year-old boy in the fancy headset mocked her with his grin. Anna couldn’t even remember what his music sounded like.
“It was my dad’s idea. Girl equals pink.” Anna shrugged. “I wasn’t super girly as a kid, but I didn’t mind it. His nice spots were rare enough I didn’t care what they looked like.” She couldn’t hold back sniffles. “It wasn’t his fault. I was a monster.”
Anna froze at the odd sensation of another presence in the room. The faint essence of beer, aftershave, and unwashed clothes teased at her nose.
“I’m sorry, Anna.” Aurora sat on the bed and put a sisterly arm around her back.
“I…”
“What?”
“It’s silly, but I thought I smelled him.”
Aurora looked at the door. “You probably do.”
Anna sat up, clenching her jaw. “Not now, Lauren. Don’t fuck with me.”
The alabaster woman looked at her with the most sincerity she’d ever seen in all-black eyes. “I’m not, Anna. He’s right here.”
She grasped her knees, afraid to look up.
“He wants me to tell you not to be afraid of him. He doesn’t blame you.”
“What?” Anna looked up. “But I…”
“He drove you to it.” Aurora reached out and put a hand on top of Anna’s. “Do you want to see him?”
Yes. No. Fuck no. What’s wrong with you? Yes. I’m insane. “Uhm.”
“It’s up to you.”
“I’m sorry, Dad.”
“He heard you in the kitchen.”
Anna shivered. “I figured out why I hate Arsenal so much.”
Aurora glanced to her right. “Well, that made him laugh. He said he agrees with you about Postalwaste.”
Anna laughed, tears flowing like faucets. “We were watching a match. Forty seconds left to a draw. Arsenal put one in. I got so angry it leaked out and fried the holo.” Anna broke down, crying into her hands.
Aurora rubbed her back. “He’s saying he was drunk. It’s not your fault. He still loves you.”
Something cold brushed Anna’s cheek. She stopped sobbing.
“Alright.” Anna wiped her eyes. “How can I see him? Is my mother here too?”
“No… I think she went right over. Not sure what makes some stay and some go wherever it is they go.” Aurora stood. “Be right back, I need a knife.”
“What?” The blood drained from Anna’s face.
“I’m not going to stab you. I need to bleed on your coat. Unless you fancy being starkers on the oth
er side, which I’m fine with, but I know you… and I suppose it would be somewhat awkward since he’s your dad and all.”
Anna sat in silence, picking at her pants and looking around at the closet full of junk, her desk, and datapads with old schoolwork. She picked one up and the screen flickered to life, showing an essay she’d been working on for her seventh-grade history class—about the war that left the area around Coventry Tower in ruins. Tears splattered on the screen, magnifying the text of the report she wrote about the slum she’d wound up living in months later.
“Now that’s ironic.”
She cried more, daydreaming about how her life would have gone if she hadn’t lost control over a silly Frictionless match. High school, boys, college, a real job… would she have kids by now? Would the government have taken her in the night?
Anna shivered. “I’m being delusional. They knew about me already. Like they would’ve let me be normal.”
“What?” Aurora walked in with a small kitchen knife. She nicked her finger and grasped Anna’s coat. Yellow-orange light shimmered around the garment for a few seconds. “There.”
“What was that?”
A handprint pressed into her sleeve. She shivered.
“Astral binding. The coat’s solid to spirits now, so it’ll come with you.”
“Come with—”
Aurora grabbed her hand and pulled. A blast of freezing cold blinded her for an instant, and the room changed. Color washed away to a world of sepia tones. A gossamer touch swept down her body. She looked down at her clothes on the floor; everything but the coat had fallen right through her.
“Anna…”
Her father, appearing real and solid, stood by the doorway. The air smelled of him, his Manchester team shirt and frumpy sweat pants looked as they had the night he died, even down to the scorched child-sized handprint on his thigh. A mournful mask of guilt replaced the angry glare she remembered him always having. He still appeared to be in his mid-thirties, by appearance only five or six years older than her. Anyone seeing them would assume him an older brother. She cringed away from her burned handprint.
Angel Descended (The Awakened Book 6) Page 38
