Slipping the golden mask back over his face, he pressed a button on the chair. The mask seemed to howl with mocking laughter as the throne smoothly lowered into the floor until it vanished from sight. The shaft sealed shut afterward, and the deflector shield flickered away, leaving just dim lights and swirling steam in the chamber.
Vigil jogged forward and scanned the floor, trying to find a hidden panel. He lowered his rifle at the spot that Harrington disappeared, finger on the breach-laser charge.
"Forget it, Vigil," Castle said. "Harrington doesn't seem the type to leave out details. You won't be following him that way." He slumped to his knees beside Raven, and after a moment's hesitation, pulled his helmet off. Vigil recognized him from Wayne Thomas' funeral. White hair was plastered to his forehead, and his face was slick with sweat and etched with pain. He examined his wounded shoulder and winced.
"Ow. I'm getting too old for this shit."
Vigil dropped to one knee beside Raven. Her eyes were closed, looking almost peaceful despite her labored breathing. Out of the armor, she looked much smaller and vulnerable. He gently laid a hand on her forehead.
"Will she be all right?"
Castle looked up. "She'll live. Needs a hospital, though." He grimaced, looking at his bleeding leg. "So do I, I guess. Don't know how I'm gonna explain this to the nurses. Good thing old people injure themselves all the time."
Vigil glanced over at Ronnie, who knelt beside Isaac's body. Spitfire stood a few feet away, staring helplessly. Vigil pushed himself to his feet, suppressing a groan when a jolt of agony shot through his injured arm. Ronnie had removed her ballistic helmet, laying it next to her. She looked up, cheeks streaked with tears.
"I … think he's gone this time. The remote link to his brain is just … fried."
Vigil sighed. "I'm sorry, Ronnie."
"Take off the helmet."
"What?"
"Take it off. I want to talk to Jett."
He hesitated, glancing at Spitfire. What does it matter now? She knows who you are. He reached up and disengaged the security locks. They hissed, expelling vapor when he removed the helmet. The room became darker with his enhancements off. Ronnie stared up at him, her face visibly conflicted.
"He told me it was you. I didn't want to believe him, but deep inside, I already knew it. I've known it for a while. You should have told me, Jett."
"I know." He offered her a hand.
She ignored it and stood on her own. "We'll talk about it later. For now, we need to find a way out before that maniac changes his mind and gives us the same treatment he gave his friends."
Jett glanced around. "He said something about an elevator…"
"Over here, yo."
Spitfire activated a flash orb, illuminating a freight elevator built into the wall. She had removed her face shield as well, glancing back at them with exhausted eyes. She was already different than the girl that first entered the tunnels. Jett felt a stab of regret, knowing she'd never be the same. "Only one button. Pretty sure it goes up."
"Fine," he said. "We'll just have to take Harrington at his word. Let's get the hell out of here." He glanced down at Isaac's body. "He looks pretty heavy, but we'll take him too."
"No." Ronnie's jaw trembled when she looked at her partner. "That's not him. It never was. He's at home, in a sealed medical bed. I know where to find him."
He tried to place a hand on her shoulder, but she pulled away. "Let's go."
He picked up Raven. Spitfire and Ronnie supported Castle, helping him limp into the elevator. Spitfire pressed the button, and the doors rattled shut. The elevator lurched once, then smoothly ascended. No one said anything. Castle sat on the floor, back against the corner, looking haggard and blown. Ronnie's eyes shimmered, lost in thought. A single tear slid from her eyelid and spattered on the floor, unnoticed. Spitfire leaned against the wall, face downcast, expression dark. Raven sagged against his chest, each breath rattling from her damaged lung. Jett thought of Harrington's words, still mocking him in his head.
He suddenly felt exhausted, barely able to carry Raven. Barely able to stand. The adrenaline that had propelled him forward was spent, leaving behind nothing but emptiness and regret.
Harrington was right. We didn’t achieve anything.
"It's not supposed to feel like this."
Castle looked up, weary resignation on his weathered features.
"What did you expect?"
Ⓥ
They donned their helmets and readied their weapons when the elevator finally came to a stop. When the doors opened, Vigil stared in disbelief. They were in a massive basement, full of stacked crates and supplies. Many of the boxes had a name stamped on them.
Leverich Towers Hotel.
Castle limped out of the elevator. "Well, now we know why Janus … I mean Harrington, was in the hotel earlier. Straight drop right into his villain lair. Get in, barbecue some people, get out in time for a press conference."
Vigil looked around. "I can page the Stingray, but it barely sits two people. I'll have to call for a backup vehicle."
"No need," Castle said. "I contacted Rook on the way up. He's two minutes out."
"Rook?"
"Be careful," Ronnie said. "This place is probably still swarming with cops handling the scene from earlier."
"At least that means no employees down here. Can you—?"
"Run interference? Sure, why not? I'm already tied to you with a massacre in the tunnels. So why not distract my own people and let the city's most-wanted vigilante get away?"
"Look, Ronnie…"
Her eyes glistened with a blend of grief and anger. "It's Captain Banks when you have that helmet on, Vigil. And this is the last favor you get from me. You saved my life; now I'm saving yours. We're even, got it?"
He swallowed his protest and nodded. "Got it."
"Good. I'll go upstairs. Wait five minutes, then do your whole getaway thing." She gave him a final stare, and for a moment, he thought she would say more. But instead, she whirled around and headed for the stairwell. He stared after her for a moment before dropping his head. Tapping a sequence on his holoband, he patched a homing signal to the Stingray.
"All right, Castle. Let's go."
The truck backed up into one of the cargo doors. They stepped out in the humid air, gently placing Raven on a portable stretcher and setting her inside before entering themselves. The driver kept giving Vigil strange looks before returning to the front to drive the truck away from the hotel. Spitfire rode in the passenger seat with him. The sky was darkened with heavy clouds, rumbling with the threat of rain.
Vigil kept a hand on the stretcher to keep it from rocking. He glanced at Castle, who once again removed his helmet and attended to his shoulder with a medkit.
"Raven is going to need a hospital soon, Castle."
"We're on the way. Already called it in as a robbery and attempted murder. Happens all the time on this side of town. You know the girl?"
"She's the daughter of a Minister Donte in the Warrens. I thought it was him in the suit the whole time."
"I'll send him an anonymous call. She should have family around when she wakes up."
"What about you?"
Castle harrumphed. "Hurt myself worse working in the garden. I'll be fine."
"Why are you doing this, Castle?"
He looked up, keen-eyed. "You're playing a dangerous game, Vigil. I know a little bit about it, so I figured I'd try to keep you alive. If that's possible."
"That's not an answer."
Castle injected himself with a syringe and sighed, leaning against the wall of the van. "I'm weak."
"What?"
"I'm weak. I swore off giving a damn, and then you came along. I think you got something, kid. You got the fire. But that smug bastard Harrington was right about one thing: you got nobody looking at the big picture. And that will get you killed quickly, mark my words."
"I have Incognito."
"Arthur?" Castle barked a laugh. "The
kid might be smart, but he suffers from delusions of grandeur. Not to mention an unhealthy obsession."
"Obsessed with what?"
"Unworthiness. He considers himself a failure, thinks it was his fault the original Vigil quit the game. He'll do anything to redeem himself, and that will get you killed, too. He might feel sorry about it afterward, but it'll be too late by then. No, what you need is a coalition. Allies on the ground. People keeping an eye on the big picture. And while I still got time, I figure I do something meaningful."
"Like aid a wanted vigilante?"
"Exactly." Castle jabbed a finger at Vigil. "But today's vigilante can be tomorrow's hero if he plays his cards right. Don't be telling Arthur about none of this. It's our little project, got it? Best if the right hand doesn't know what the left is doing for now. It'll keep your enemies off-balance when it all hits the fan. And trust me, it will."
"Yeah, I guess." Vigil was silent a moment, watching Raven struggle to breathe. Her eyelids fluttered, but she remained unconscious.
"Was he right?"
"Who?"
"Harrington. We lost down there, Castle. He won. And I have to know whether or not he was right about being better than me."
"Better than you? You bet he was, this time. Sometimes you gotta take a punch to the face to get woke up, kid. It happens. But is he right? Hell, no."
"Just like that?"
"Exactly like that. Harrington's a megalomaniac, not to mention a raging narcissist. If you look past his silver-tongued delivery, it was nothing but a move straight from the dictator playbook: eliminate your opponents to seize power. With no one around to stand against him, he'll shove his utopian dream down the public's throats at the cost of their freedom and civil rights. First, he'll target the low-hanging fruit—criminals and lawbreakers. Gotta get tougher, lock more people up, build more prisons. Protesters will be labeled the next criminals in the name of law and order. Fringe religions and minority groups will follow, then the press. After that, it'll be anyone who dares to speak up. Mix it up in any order you want. Point is, Harrington's not some idealist with a dream of unity. He's a man of vision who will stop at nothing to achieve it. The only reason he didn’t kill us in there is that he plans to use vigilantes as the next scapegoats to pass freedom-restricting enforcement laws."
"Unless we stop him."
"That's right."
The van slowed to a stop. Castle looked around, tapping the com in his ear. "We're not at the hospital, Rook. What gives?"
Rook's voice buzzed over the intercom. "Uh, I got a vehicle blocking the street. Looks like a flying … shark."
"That's my ride," Vigil said, standing. He took a last look at Raven. "Take care of her, Castle."
"You got it, Vigil."
He opened the rear doors and leaped out, striding toward the hovering Stingray. Spitfire exited the passenger door and silently joined him. They clambered onto the Stingray, where Vigil hesitated.
"Take the wheel, Spitfire. Take us home."
She nodded, sliding into the front of the cockpit. As she hit the thrusters, he crammed himself into the back, glancing down as Castle's vehicle sped down the isolated street. Rain droplets hit the canopy glass, gliding across the smooth surface as the Stingray picked up speed. A deluge of rain followed, showering from dark thunderheads that smothered the sky. The streets and buildings steamed, the haze rising into the air like smoke from a raging inferno.
Chapter 21: Ashes
Ronnie Banks sighed as she exited from her RCE aerodyne into the pouring rain. Isaac's home was a place where time stood still—same curb appeal, same décor, same furnishings. She found his remains inside of his medical pod. With the remote link destroyed from the backlash of the Geryon's psionic attack, his brain didn't survive the trauma. He flatlined, mind finally succumbing to the fate that had destroyed his body years ago.
She stood beside his bedside, tears streaming down her face when she looked inside at her partner. His body was shriveled and wasted, already like a mummified corpse. At long last, she understood why he longed for things to come to an end. He recognized before she did that what he experienced wasn't living. It was just an extension of his torment, a limbo that held him prisoner and kept him from the rest that was just out of his reach. She laid a hand on the cool surface of the glass.
"Rest in peace, partner. You deserve it."
***
The funeral was quickly arranged. There was no need for a grand affair when so few attended. In the end, only four others showed up: Abraham Clark, Jett, Captain Moore, and to her surprise, Sergeant Brooks. They listened to the words of the hired pastor who gave the final rites, but each seemed lost in their own thoughts, standing under black umbrellas in the downpour.
After Isaac was lowered into the ground, Brooks turned to Ronnie with a regretful look.
"I'm sorry for your loss, Captain."
"Thanks, Sergeant. I have to say, I'm surprised to see you here."
Brooks glanced at the grave, a wound of broken earth in the grassy surroundings. "We were friends once. Before … what happened to him. I should have been there, should have seen him for what he still was. I should have been like you."
"It was hard. I understand."
"No. It was easy. Easy to treat him like he was already dead. I should have been better. I will be better."
Ronnie clasped Brooks by the arms. "That's all any of us can try to be."
"See you at the precinct, Captain."
As she walked to her vehicle, Chief Moore and Abe also separated. Abe gave Ronnie a nod before leaving. Moore joined her where she stood a few feet away from Jett, who stood in respectful silence.
Moore glanced at him, then at Ronnie. "Sorry, Veronica."
"It's okay. In a way, it's for the best. He never was comfortable with the neural connection. I think he welcomed the end."
"Still, losing a partner is never easy."
"No, it's not."
He patted her on the back. "Take time to grieve, Ronnie. I'll take care of everything that Commissioner Miller pinned on you. When you're ready to come back, the job will still be there. But make sure you're ready, Captain. I want you healthy, and I don't just mean physically. Mental and emotional health is just as important. Maybe more so."
"What about the bodies in the tunnels?"
He sighed through his thick mustache, eyes looking haggard for a moment. "It's a mess. We're still identifying all the remains. Still can't believe you uncovered some kind of death-worshipping cult involving some of the most elite members of the city. The thought that Commissioner Miller was involved with something like that … I had my suspicions, you know. The way he constantly buried your work was always suspect. But an operative for the syndicates? The news coverage is insane, as you probably know."
"Insane. Yeah," she said flatly.
"Well, we'll get it sorted out eventually. Lots of people are waiting to get closure, no matter how tragic it is. Meanwhile, everyone is scrambling to cover the bases. The mayor is working overtime to get the vacancies filled."
"Yeah, I bet he is."
"Worries for another day, Ronnie. Take some time off. That's an order."
He slipped an arm around her shoulder and squeezed before walking away. She was left alone with Jett, who stood in place like a statue. With his eyes downcast and head down, he looked almost as alone as she felt. Rain dripped down his umbrella, spattering unheeded on his shoes. Grief was etched on his face, but she knew it wasn't for Isaac. It was for the ghosts of his past, the dead loved ones that still haunted him. He knew what she went through, maybe more than anyone else.
Exhaling vapor into the rain, she slowly walked over and patted him on the chest. He glanced down and slid an arm around her, pulling her into a gentle embrace. For a few moments, she closed her eyes and felt a cathartic sense of comfort in their mutual sorrow. For a few seconds, they were just two people trying not to drown in a sea of anguish.
"You okay?"
She shook her head. "
No. Losing Isaac … makes everything smaller. I don’t have many people in this world."
"You got me."
She said nothing, leaning against his broad chest. It felt natural, as if they'd been together for years. Which made it so much harder when she gathered the strength to pull away.
"Thanks for showing up, Jett. I wasn't sure if you would."
He gave her a puzzled glance. "Of course I would."
"It's just … everything's changed."
"Not for me, it hasn't."
"That's because you see things the way you want them to be. I see things the way they are."
"We don't have to agree on everything, Ronnie. No one does. But that doesn't mean we can't be together."
"We can be together, Jett. But that means one or both of us has to sacrifice being who we are. We both know if either of us makes that sacrifice, we'll hate each other for it in the end."
"Ronnie…"
"You know it's true, Jett. I can't unsee what I saw in the tunnels. You were … unstoppable. You're the best soldier I've seen. But that also means you're ruthless. A killing machine. I know you did what you had to back there. But no matter how you justify it, this isn't war. And I can't condone the path you've chosen. You stepped over a crucial line and now, everyone is going to be gunning for you. I know how this will end, even if you don't. And I can't be a part of it."
"Don't worry about me; I'll be fine."
"It's not just you, Jett. Everyone around you is a target."
"I won't let anyone hurt you, Ronnie. I promise."
She sighed. "Do you want me to say it?"
"Say what?"
"You're going to get the girl killed, Jett."
He stiffened. "That's not gonna happen."
"You know it will. And when it happens, you'll be lost. Everything good in you will burn away. Only the soldier will be left. Only the killer. I love you too much to sit back and watch it happen."
Vigil: Inferno Season (The Cyber Knight Chronicles Book 2) Page 29