by R. L. King
T-boy followed him as they shoved their way around the edge of the dance floor. The place was full to capacity, certainly fuller than it should have been if the club was observing the fire marshal’s occupancy guidelines. Ben had never been inside Julio’s headquarters before; he’d never been comfortable around crowds, and he knew he’d look ridiculous if he tried to dance in front of other people, so he left it alone. He’d been content to get his delivery assignments when he picked up his shipments at the other end of the block. As far as he knew, Julio owned all the buildings in this area, a collection of rundown wooden structures that he sublet to others who wanted to run small, under-the-table businesses or use the space for other projects. As long as he got his cut and nobody burned the place down or brought the cops down on them, he didn’t care what people did there.
As they approached the bar along the club’s west wall, Ben’s neck tingle turned into a full-body jolt. He stopped switching to his special sight. The place lit up with coruscating, multi-hued auras, including his own, which glowed even more brightly with the strange yellow-green.
“You see something?”
“I’m not sure. Be quiet.” He barely noticed the startled, hurt look on T-boy’s face as he scanned the people near the bar. He didn’t know what he was looking for, but had a feeling he’d know it when he saw it. It was as if the tingling feeling was leading him in the direction he wanted to go. As before, he trusted it—it hadn’t steered him wrong yet. Right now, it seemed to be dragging his attention away from the bar and the dance floor, and toward the back of the room.
Nothing there but more people dancing, drinking, smoking—
Then he looked up. And he saw him.
Standing on a catwalk high above the room, Julio Gutierrez gripped the railing and surveyed the club like a king in his realm. He wore a tailored suit of pale peach, with rings glittering on both hands. His slicked-back, black hair shone with a blue sheen in the overhead lights, and his smile was sly and confident. Two beefy bodyguards in black suits flanked him, leaving a few feet to either side. They, too, were scanning the crowd below, but they didn’t look like they were surveying anything. They looked like they were alert for any potential trouble. Ben had noticed similar men hanging out near the bar, the stage, and the room’s only two exits: a wide set of double doors on the east side, and the hallway leading to the restrooms to the north.
“There’s the bastard,” he muttered.
“Where?” T-boy pressed up next to him.
“Up there. On the catwalk.” He pointed, keeping his hand hidden so only T-boy could see it.
But at that moment, almost as if drawn to him by some supernatural force, Julio’s roving gaze settled on him, and their eyes met.
Oh shit. He knows! He knows who I am! In that instant, Ben knew, as he’d never known anything else in his life, that Julio knew exactly who he was and why he was here. The distance didn’t matter. The illusionary disguise didn’t matter.
He knows!
Julio must have seen something in his expression, because he turned immediately to the bodyguard on his left, pointed out into the crowd, and then hurried along the catwalk to some unseen exit.
“No!” Ben yelled, startling not only T-boy but several other nearby club patrons. The power swelled within him, driving him on before he could think. He dropped the disguise and launched himself off the floor toward the catwalk. “You aren’t getting away from me, you bastard!”
He flung a savage spell toward the fleeing Julio, but the man was moving too fast, ducked low and tucked protectively behind his first bodyguard. The spell, its effect lost in the strobing dance-floor lights, ripped into the catwalk, tearing it in half and knocking the second, trailing bodyguard off his feet. The man teetered, his mouth wide open in a scream inaudible over the pounding beat, and then tumbled to the side, toward the break in the structure. He caught himself at the last second on the rail, his flailing form swaying madly twenty feet above the dancers.
At that point, everything happened fast. A force seemed to take over Ben’s brain, simultaneously clearing his head and whipping his thoughts into a rage. Julio was getting away! That could not be allowed to happen!
Still hovering in the air, he spread his arms and let the power take over him, directing one at the heavy double doors of the main entrance and the other at the exit to the restroom hallway. The two slammed shut with thundering clangs that echoed around the room. The DJ, caught up in the music, still hadn’t noticed anything wrong, but the doors’ sound carried even over the music.
Down below, someone screamed and pointed upward.
Toward Ben.
He couldn’t see Julio now—like the rat he was, the murdering bastard had managed to slip out through some crack Ben hadn’t been aware of. That was okay, though—he’d get him back. Julio couldn’t hide from him. Not now.
He levitated over to the rail, launching a magical punch at the swaying, screaming bodyguard’s hand and sending him plummeting to the ground. Then he pulled the two sections back together, used more magic to fuse them in place, and faced the crowd.
“Shut up!” he yelled, amplifying his voice.
More of the crowd members were screaming now, the place turning into a roiling sea of chaos below him. “Shut up!” he cried again. “Shut that fucking music off!” He watched with satisfaction as a bunch of panicked figures smashed into the closed doors, piling up, their auras turning increasingly red and fragmented as they failed to get them open.
The pounding hip-hop suddenly went silent as the DJ finally caught on that something was wrong. He turned and dived for the back of the stage, but Ben was ready for that. With a swiping hand gesture, he swept the man forward, off the stage and into the crowd.
“Nobody’s going anywhere!” he yelled. “You got that?” A sudden plan sprang to mind, and he went with it before he stopped to think. “Stay away from the stage. I got bombs hidden in here, and if any of you jokers try to leave, I’ll set ’em off and blow us all to fucking kingdom come! You got that?”
His words seemed to have little effect on the seething crowd trying to exit through the double doors, but some of the others looked up at him in shocked terror.
He spotted two of Julio’s guards, the ones at the stage. They had guns drawn but seemed unsure of what to do with them. “You!” he yelled. “Julio’s guys. With the guns. Toss ’em on the stage. Now! Or you’re dead!”
“Fuck you, man! You’re dead!” one of them yelled, waving the gun. “There ain’t no way outta here!” He took a shot at Ben, the muzzle flash of his gun bright against the dance-floor lights.
Ben was ready, though. The rounds spanged off his shield, and with another sweep of his hand he picked up the bodyguard and slammed him head-first into the concrete floor. “Anybody else wanna be a hero, or you wanna listen to why I’m here?”
He glanced down then and happened to spot T-boy. The kid was where he’d left him, staring up at him with a mix of disbelief, terror, and shock.
None of that mattered now, though. Even as somewhere deep within him Old Ben was falling apart, New Ben knew he’d do whatever he had to do to find Julio and punish him. If that meant there’d have to be a few casualties along the way, then that was how it would have to be.
42
Stone and Verity had reached the ground floor, moving carefully along the stairways and down the labyrinthine hallways toward the club. Stone still didn’t have a plan, but the closer they got, the more certain he was that something had gone terribly—perhaps irrevocably—wrong.
On the way to the club’s doors, they passed several panicked people in club gear thundering by, their faces wreathed in terror. He grabbed one young man by the arm and pulled him up short. “What’s going on in there?” he demanded.
“Oh, fuck, man, let me go! I gotta get out!” He tried to wrench free of Stone’s grip.
Stone supplemented it with magic, holding him in place. “Just tell me! What’s happening?”
The kid a
lmost yanked his arm out of its socket trying to get away. “He’s crazy, man! Some crazy guy’s in there! He said there were bombs! I barely got out before he locked the doors down. Let me go, man!”
“Wait—he locked the doors down?”
“Yeah! The main doors are locked. Probably the other ones too!”
“Doc—let him go before he hurts himself,” Verity urged. Around them more people poured past—but not many. Most of Caliente’s patrons must still be imprisoned inside.
Stone released the spell and the young man tumbled forward, nearly losing his balance before he rejoined the small knot of people running away. “Bloody hell. That’s going to complicate things.”
“What do you mean? Can’t you still get in if he’s got the doors locked? Can you blow them?”
“Possibly—but I don’t want to if we don’t have to. I want to keep the element of surprise if I can. Come on—there’s got to be another way in.”
They fought their way past the dwindling tide of frightened club-goers trying to make their escape, and before long they found themselves alone in a hallway.
“There’s the main entrance,” Stone said, pointing. As the kid had said, the pair of heavy metal doors were shut tight. He shifted to magical sight and wasn’t at all surprised to see a yellow-green nimbus around them. “His power’s stronger. He’s holding them shut.” The faint sounds of screaming and pounding came from behind them.
“So how do we get in?” Verity demanded again.
He took her hand and pulled her forward. “Come on—they can’t have only one entrance.” Even as he said it, he hoped he was right. This place definitely didn’t look as if it conformed to any building codes. It was possible Gutierrez and his people had blocked off any other way in and out to give them more control over security.
They ran past the double doors and down another hallway. Stone wished he’d bothered to ask Blum for a floorplan of this place, but doubted the detective could have provided one. He was reminded suddenly of the last time he’d been in a dive club like this one—years ago, when he, Jason, and Verity had fought the Forgotten at Will to Power in San Francisco. There’d been a fire then, and this wooden structure looked to be every bit as much of a firepit. He hoped that, whatever Ben Halstrom had planned, it didn’t involve torching the place.
Verity’s hand tightened on his arm as they rounded another corner. A man in a black suit was running toward them, a tiny submachine gun tucked into the crook of his arm. Head down and legs pumping, he didn’t appear to notice them.
Stone grabbed him with a telekinetic hold and pressed him against the wall. “What’s going on in there?” he yelled.
The man glared and tried to bring up the gun, eyes widening when he couldn’t do it. “What the fuck, man?”
“Tell me what’s going on,” Stone insisted. “You work for Julio Gutierrez, don’t you?”
“I gotta go. Get the fuck outta my way!”
“I can hold you here all night. Want to test me? Or do you want to give me a chance of fixing this mess?”
The man struggled, but it soon became obvious that Stone’s words hadn’t been idle threats. He slumped, frustration radiating from him like water. “There’s some freak in there. He’s after Julio. I don’t know what he is, but he’s already killed one guy. He’s gonna kill Julio if he catches him.”
“Where is Julio? Is he here? Is he inside?”
“I dunno. I think he got away, but I dunno.” Sweat popped out on his forehead and his chest heaved. “He’s some kinda freak. Picked up my buddy and slammed him down on his head. On his head! Into the concrete, man. From all the way across the room! What the hell is that shit?”
Stone tightened his hold. “I need to get in there.”
“Ain’t nobody gettin’ in or outta there. He’s got it locked down. There’s only two entrances—the main one and the hall by the johns. They’re both shut. I barely got out through the johns before he did it. Get the fuck out while you still can!”
“There’s no other way?”
The thug swallowed hard, nearly hyperventilating. “You don’t wanna go in there. He’s gonna kill everybody. I got a look at his face—he’s fuckin’ crazy!”
“Doc—” Verity began. “We don’t have time to—”
“Yes, I know.” He slammed the man’s head against the wall—not hard enough to hurt him, but hard enough to get his attention. “Are there any other ways in?”
The man tried to wrench himself loose, but Stone’s spell held him fast. “I don’t know!” he shrieked. “Maybe—maybe the door to the stage, if he didn’t lock that one down too!”
“Where?”
“Down this hall. The way I was comin’ from. Turn left. It’s a gray metal door, nothing written on it. It’ll be locked, though, even if the freak didn’t do it.”
“Yes. Good. All right. On your way—we’ll keep this, though.” With another spell he pulled the SMG from the guy’s grasp. “Off you go, before I change my mind.”
The guy looked as if he might protest and try to get his gun back, but one look at Stone dissuaded him. “Fuck, man,” he breathed as he took off running again. “You’re as crazy as the freak inside!”
Stone didn’t waste time. He flung the SMG further down the hall in the opposite direction and grabbed Verity’s arm again. “Come on.”
“Doc—do you think that guy’s right? Has Ben lost it completely? Can that happen?”
“I think it very well could,” he said grimly. He slowed his long stride and held up as another door came into view, illuminated by Verity’s light spell. As Julio’s thug had said, it was gray metal, featureless and unlabeled.
Stone switched to magical sight and hope surged when he didn’t spot the familiar yellow-green aura. “Brilliant. I think he missed this one.” A moment’s concentration popped the lock. He pulled it open a couple inches, then paused. “All right—from here on, we’ll need to be careful. Have you got your disguise amulet?”
She pulled it from her pocket and held it up.
“Good. Put that on and stay low. I don’t know what Ben’s capable of at this point, and I’m hoping we can catch him before he realizes we’re on to him. It doesn’t sound like he’s got too many reservations about hurting innocents at this point, so keep that in mind.”
Verity nodded, slipping the amulet over her head. A moment later, her small, dark-haired form transformed into an athletic blond woman in a bright red minidress.
Stone donned his own amulet, becoming a twentyish, dark-skinned man in a T-shirt and jeans. He gripped Verity’s arm. “Be careful. And stay close.”
“Yeah. I—” Suddenly, she raised her head, sniffing the air. “Doc—is it me, or do I smell smoke?”
43
“Okay!” Ben yelled. “Here’s what we’re gonna do!” He floated down until he was only a few feet above the crowd. He was still amplifying his voice with magic so he could be heard over their screams. More and more the power guided him, pointing him toward what he could do—even if he’d had no idea before that he could do it. “Listen if you want to get out of here alive!”
More of them turned away from their futile efforts to push through the jammed door and stared up at him, their shock and fear clear on their wide-eyed faces. Some of them were sobbing, and others clumped into small groups, swaying, their arms around each other.
“That’s better!” He surveyed them for a moment, satisfied. He had them where he wanted them—scared. Scared meant they wouldn’t be thinking straight. Old Ben knew that feeling all too well, and New Ben would use it to his advantage. “Listen up! There’s a guy here I want. His name’s Julio. You might have seen him around, in his fancy peach-colored suit, lookin’ like he owns the place. Because he does. I saw him here, lording it over the room, but the little weasel bastard managed to sneak off and hide from me. I want him. You understand?”
He locked gazes with two of the remaining dark-suited security guys in turn. “You guys know where he is. You know wher
e he went. And if you don’t produce him now, it’s not gonna go well for any of these people here. You got that?”
A collective gasp issued from the crowd, and then a voice rose above it. “Ben! No! You said you wasn’t gonna hurt anybody!”
Ben easily picked out a panicked Calvin in the crowd. “I ain’t gonna hurt anybody, kid—if these people do what I say.”
“You already hurt somebody!” Patch yelled from the other side of the room. “You killed that dude!”
Another rumble of fear from the crowd, many of whom hadn’t seen Ben drop the guard on his head.
“Shut up!” Ben screamed. “Just—shut up! Let me think!” He swallowed hard and glared around the room again. There were a couple hundred people in here, divided between the group still trying to wrench the doors open and the one gathered in the middle of the dance floor. “All of you—get into the middle. Get away from those doors! Trust me, you’re not gonna open them!”
It wasn’t a fast process—it was hard to break through abject panic—but finally most of the door-pushers shuffled back into the middle of the room, joining the mass of other fearful club-goers.
Ben watched them, pleased. It felt good to make people do what he wanted. Old Ben could never do that—he was always the one dancing to others’ tunes—but New Ben reveled in it. “Good. That’s good. Now—where’s that bastard Julio? Somebody in here’s gotta know.” He pointed at one of the security guys, then up at the broken catwalk. “What’s the plan? Where would he go when they take him out that way? He’d better not be far.”
One of the guards spread his hands. “I dunno, man. They don’t tell me nothin’. I’m just hired muscle. Come on—let these people go. They don’t know where Julio is, neither.”