Got Hope

by Michael Darling

  Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Tao of Boom

  We returned to our post after installing Marcus and Matt in their black SUV, still unconscious.

  “Is everyone all right?”

  “We’re fine,” Erin said. “You’re bleeding.”

  “Am I?”

  Erin scrounged up her healing medallion and went to work on my face.

  If Bromach didn’t shift me, who did?

  With Erin’s magic soothing my cuts and bruises, I touched her hand. “Quick thinking, becoming the ghost of Hope. That’ll haunt him for a while.”

  “It was all I could think of to stop Marcus. Oz and Bromach did their jobs brilliantly.”

  “Absolutely. Good work everyone.”

  There was still a ticking bomb across the street. We could call the police and they’d call the bomb squad. If the bomb squad could deactivate it, that would be best. Despite what they show in movies and on TV, not all bombs get deactivated. Often, the best the bomb squad can do is contain the explosion. Because the bomb had been built by Katie, and Katie had her own reasons for wanting it to go off, I was sure it would go off. It wasn’t a technical issue. It was an issue of personality and human nature.

  We had to do something. “Bromach? Can you shift the bomb somewhere harmless? Like up in the sky?”

  Bromach shook his head. “While shifting is a talent from the discipline of Air, it’s connected to Earth as well. If we could shift things into the sky, we’d never have war. Air Mages would shift entire armies into the clouds and let them fall to their deaths.”

  I nodded. Explains why Ur put us on top of the rocks in the Fuilaseum. “Okay. Could you make sure there are no people in or around the building?”

  “Certainly.” He blinked away. Thirty seconds later, he blinked back. “Marcus and his colleague have driven away. There is no one else inside the building or nearby, sire.”

  Sire. Sigh.

  “I could set the bomb off by hitting it with fire,” I said. “But I have another idea. Bromach, please shift the bomb into the adjoining room.”

  “Certainly.” Bromach stared at the bomb. It vanished and reappeared fifteen feet away. My heart rate jumped, waiting for the GPS signal to find its satellite and bounce back.

  When the bomb went off, our building shook. We felt the heat through the windows. Erin gasped and jumped. Who doesn’t love a little mass destruction? It’s power you can only appreciate on an instinctive level. A beast whose jaws could devour you body and soul if you’re in reach.

  A minute later came the sirens.

  We waited while the cops arrived and the sirens stopped. More sirens ramped up in the distance. Fire trucks. Amazingly, Katie and her cameraman beat them all to the scene. Almost as if they’d been waiting nearby. Katie gets the scoop. What were the odds?

  A germ of another idea unrolled in my head while the fire trucks arrived, unrolling hoses. We had Marcus’s favorite things all together, waiting to be used: Oz, Katie, and cameras rolling. Things that had been used against us. I outlined my plan. It only took a minute.

  Like a boss, I walked up to a policeman working crowd control, standing near Katie and her cameraman. I tapped him on the shoulder.

  “Sir, you need to get back behind the tape,” the policeman said.

  “I need to report a crime.”

  Katie stared at me. She’d noticed me walking up. Whatever she had been saying on camera ended as her eyes and mouth did various interpretations of the letter “O.” The cameraman, doing his job, swung the red eye of the lens to me.

  “Sir, whatever it is—” the policeman tried to continue.

  “I’m responsible for the death of my wife, Hope Gallatin da Silva.”

  Now the policeman and the cameraman both paid attention.

  “I’m doing business with mobsters from Boston. I’m also responsible for several bombings, including the bomb here tonight.”

  Katie glared at me, willing me to not say anything else. She tried to block the camera, but her cameraman was good at his job. “Katie Castellanos built the bombs,” I said.

  Her microphone had no fuzzy thing on the end, so it was all metal when Katie hit me in the face. It would have been nice if I’d recharged my shield coin. As it was, it looked authentic when I put my hand on my cheek, because it hurt like a poodle. The policeman struggled to get Katie to the ground while she swore at me in Spanish. I backed away. The camera stayed on me.

  I ran for the alley.

  “Stop!” the cop yelled.

  Turning the corner, safely in the shadows, I did stop.

  Blink.

  Back with the crew. The ghost of my reflection—the face of Marcus—stared at me in the window. Nothing fake about reality. Oz’s spell faded away and I looked like me again.

  Erin was put out, touching the gash in my cheek. “I just fixed your face.”

  “Katie broke it. It’s Katie’s fault. Blame Katie.”

  Erin set about fixing me again. Down on the street, Katie was getting fitted with handcuffs while a second policeman checked the alley where I’d disappeared. He came back talking on his radio. A host of law enforcement would be jumping into action now, searching databases for one Marcus da Silva. Soon they’d know where he lived, what vehicles he drove, what the license plates were for a BOLO, and if he’d ever been arrested.

  Katie stared at the burning building ruefully. She was part of the story now instead of reporting it. She’d throw Marcus under the bus as soon as she has a chance to think things through. Unfortunately, her days in front of a camera were over.

  “Okay, you’re perfect again,” Erin said.

  My cheek felt warm where Erin had healed me. “It’s funny. I hit Marcus in the face earlier. When they arrest him, he’s going to have a bruise in the same place Katie hit me.”

  “Lucky,” Erin said. She looked at the burning building too and the firelight danced in her eyes. “I have to say, you have your moments, Got. This feels good.”

  I had to agree.

  The firemen knocked down the blaze. Katie had three policemen around her and she’d turned her back to the camera.

  An important question nagged my thoughts. “Hey, Oz. How’d you get the name Oz? Was your mom caught up in a tornado in Kansas and transported to Munchkinland? Or is it short for Ozymandias?”

  “Neither. My dad loved Star Wars. He wanted to name me Yoda. Mom wouldn’t let him. Obviously. Since Frank Oz did the voice I was almost Frank, but mom had dated a Frank. Oz was left.”

  “Ah. Strong with the Force, he was.”

  “Yeah,” he shrugged. “It’s different, but I like it.”

  “I like it too. Where will you go? You could stay at the castle. I think my dad could use your skills. I could too. Like tomorrow.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “Good. Bromach. Would you do me a favor?”

  “Certainly, sire.”

  “Don’t call me sire. And make sure you and Oz get safely home?”

  Bromach bowed and Oz nodded and they both evaporated.

  Blink.

  Three of us remained. Me and Erin and the briefcase full of money.

  We watched the firemen and policemen continue to work.

  “Do you know how you’re going to spend the money?” Erin asked.

  “I wasn’t sure we were going to get it. But it’s not for me. What would I need money for? I have everything I want.”

  I almost said, “I have you,” but I didn’t. The fact was I didn’t have Erin. Not completely. And I was very much aware of the line I couldn’t cross. I wanted to slip my arm around Erin’s waist anyway. We were alone, inside a dark building, with no one to raise an objection.

  With great restraint, I kept my hands to myself.

  The bullet shattered the window before I heard the pop.

  “Get down!” I pulled Erin behind a desk.

  Movement in the hallway.

  Someone breathing.

  “It’s true.” The man’s voice came out of the d
arkness in a rough whisper.

  “Blake?” Erin asked.

  Nothing for a heartbeat. Then two. “It’s me, honey.”

  “Blake!” Erin stood up before I could stop her. Blake fired again. Erin had her shield coin. The bullet bounced off her and flared blue as it sailed through the air over my head.

  The blue was the color of magic.

  Magic?

  There is another under my sway. You will not win, Luck. You will lose everything and it will come sooner than you think.

  I hadn’t had time to process Ur’s threat. Now it landed on me like a skyscraper.

  I yanked Erin back to the floor.

  “Is he shooting at us?” Erin asked.

  “Yes. Stay down.”

  “Why is he shooting at us?”

  I’m hoping he’ll tell us.

  I put my finger to my lips. Ssh. We had to move. Blake had too many ways to come at us.

  Pulling Erin by the hand, I crawled toward the nearest doorway that didn’t have a husband with a gun standing in it. We shuttled from desk to desk, hiding and listening.

  “I didn’t want to believe it.” Blake sounded disoriented. Almost drugged.

  Erin wanted to ask questions. I could see the urgency in her eyes. I shook my head slowly. He was trying to engage us to find out where we were. To gain the advantage. The advantage we were getting every time he opened his mouth.

  “I hate you, Luck!” Blake fired again. The bullet skipped off the top of the desk we were hiding behind and flared blue, evaporating. In the window, the reflection of the casing ejected from the pistol flared blue too.

  Days ago, the bullet that hit Hope had vanished. And the gun that had shot it. That’s why I hadn’t been able to find the bullet or the casing. Enchanted rounds.

  We had to move faster. I put Erin in front of me and nudged her forward. Blake could hit Erin a couple more times before her shield would stop working. Mine was already gone from the fight with Matt. That, and Ur had made my gun disappear.

  Pants down. Not good.

  “You took Erin from me, Luck. I felt it. They told me you stole her.”

  We scooted down the row. A few more desks in this direction and we were going to hit a wall. We needed to move at a ninety-degree angle soon so we could get through a door and make a break for the exit.

  “He’s not himself,” Erin whispered.

  “Until we find out who he is, keep moving.”

  Blake said, “All these problems in my head, they’re your fault.”

  It sounded like he was moving toward the windows, perpendicular to us. He’d be able to find us then, down one row or the other.

  “I might let him shoot me. Shoot at me.”

  “Why?”

  “I can use fire so he doesn’t see you going for the door.”

  “Got, don’t—”

  “I won’t hurt him and he won’t hurt me, I promise. When I stand up, crawl to the door and get out of here. Run and keep running.”

  “Okay. Be careful.”

  “You too. Here we go.”

  I stood, threw a thin wall of fire in front of myself, and stepped to the side. Blake raised the gun and fired but all he hit was flame. I heard Erin scramble over the carpet as I flashed another sheet of flame and dodged again. The sound of the gun was extra loud and the bullet ricocheted toward the ceiling, leaving a blue tracer as it vanished.

  Back to the floor, moving toward Blake, tossing up another sheet of fire. He shot at it. That was six shots, which would have been great if he’d been carrying a revolver. Different guns make different sounds when they’re fired and his sounded like a nine-millimeter, semi-automatic Beretta. Most models carried 17 rounds with a full magazine and I wasn’t sure I could fool him eleven more times.

  I sent a thin thread of fire ahead of me, weaving it quickly under the desks. I sang to the fire, making it curve and slither like a snake. I turned it vertical and made it expand, then pop.

  Blake didn’t shoot but the flame make him look. I jumped up in the moment after the fireball lit the space to Blake’s right and he didn’t see me on his left.

  But I saw him.

  I shot a lance of fire at the gun, hot enough to melt it. Blake yelped and dropped the gun.

  Just like old times.

  “Show me your hands, Blake.”

  He lifted his hands but wouldn’t look at me. He was shaking so hard it was a wonder he’d been able to shoot at all.

  “Do you ever feel this way?” he asked.

  Let him talk.

  Go with the flow.

  He went on. “Not knowing what’s real? The things I saw in my mind. They were delusions. They had to be. Sometimes I was dead. Sometimes I was alive. Sometimes I was gone for five years. Sometimes I was gone for decades.”

  The light in the doorway behind Blake changed. Erin coming up the hall and listening.

  Please stay there.

  “Sometimes I had this whole other life. In a palace. A beautiful woman loved me. We had a child and she grew up more talented and beautiful than a father could ever think possible.”

  Erin stepped into the room, silent, unable to tear away.

  Go back.

  “The really bad thoughts were quieter but always there.” Blake put a hand on his head. “Always lurking in the background. A life as something not human. Something young but at the same time very old.”

  I raised the level of the light in my flame, seeking illumination of many kinds. I needed to see him. I needed to see his Stains.

  “I went away. Became lost. Died. Traveled. Came back. I couldn’t remember what happened. She told me to forget and I did. I forgot the memories for the longest time. But the memories didn’t forget me. They came back. In bits and pieces. That’s why it seemed like I needed therapy. And drugs. To push the bits and pieces away.”

  Erin stood close enough to touch him. If I said anything, if I told her to move away, he’d know she was there. Maybe he was lost deep enough in the shadowed corners of his mind. His Stains turned slowly and I recognized one that I’d read about in my father’s book.

  Necromancy. Bringing the unwilling dead back to life.

  “I had dreams and nightmares. I had Erin again. But I didn’t have her. Like, I could see my name on her heart, but the writing was faint. There was another name, and the writing was bold. Your name, Luck.”

  I wanted to tell him it wasn’t intentional. I’d fallen in love with Erin after he’d been gone for five years. We’d presumed he was dead, and it turned out he was and then he’d been brought back with necromancy. I didn’t interrupt. He knew it all anyway.

  “I wanted to hurt you, Luck. I wanted to make you feel loss and longing. A man came to me in a dark cloud. I think in a dream, but he gave me bullets that would let me hurt you and the bullets were real. Maybe it wasn’t a dream. I tried shooting you driving around but it didn’t hurt you. I tried shooting the girl you were with in the parking lot. But it didn’t hurt her either.”

  Erin reaching out. Why didn’t she stop? If I told her about his Stains would she believe me? Her arms caressed his shoulders.

  “You’re upset,” she said. “Do you have your medicine? We can fix this.”

  “There’s nothing to fix.” Blake’s anger rose with his voice. “I finally understand. I’m not confused anymore. It’s never been more obvious.”

  Erin felt his anger too. “Blake. Sweetheart. You’re scaring me.”

  Blake didn’t hear. “I learned the truth. They aren’t delusions. They’re realities. Everything in my head happened. The only thing wrong with me was people telling me I was crazy.”

  “Blake? Have you heard of a cambion?” I said.

  “I know about the Behindbeyond,” Blake’s face was flushed.

  “Listen, Blake.”

  “I know there was a woman who loved me.”

  “A cambion is the offspring of a deamhan and a mortal.”

  “I know that we had a daughter together. We raised her together.�
��

  “A cambion is both parasite and host.”

  “I know you killed her. Sarah. My daughter. The daughter I raised with the Máithrín.”

  “Blake.”

  “I know you took my wife. I know you took my daughter. Thanks to you, Luck, I know to bring an extra gun.”

  Blake wrapped one arm around Erin’s waist as he turned, lifting her off the floor. I didn’t see the gun but I heard the shot as Blake fired into Erin’s body. She grunted and the bullet came through her back with a flare of blue before it disappeared.

  I shouted something. I don’t know what. My fire bloomed. Blake turned, holding Erin close to himself, placing her between us.

  He screamed, “I know about shields, too! I know a gun will work if you push it through!”

  Erin slumped over Blake’s shoulder. She’d be bleeding. Internal organs torn.

  “Guess we both know things, huh, Luck?”

  I had no spit in my mouth. I managed, “There’s an ambulance downstairs. Please—”

  Blake nodded. His eyes were wild but somehow devoid of color, his Stains turning faster. The cambion inside him had control. “I don’t know what I like better, watching you watch her die or killing you myself.”

  “Kill me,” I said. “Just take her downstairs. Take her to the ambulance.”

  “The Máithrín would like that, I think. Come over here and let me put the gun against your forehead. After I blow your brains out, I’ll take Erin down to the ambulance.”

  “Deal. Done.” Easy decision. I raised my hands. Let my fire go out. My only thought was how much blood Erin was losing with every passing moment.

  Blake raised his pistol, the open muzzle black and beckoning.

  Erin wrapped her arm around Blake’s, forcing it down. The gun went off, the blue streak hitting the floor. She grunted again. She got her other arm over Blake’s head and wrapped it around his elbow as well, wrestling his arm like she was wrestling an anaconda.

  “Let go!” Blake hit her with his fist.

  Erin yelped.

  “Blake! Stop!” I yelled. My fire awakened.

  “Don’t kill him!” Erin cried.

  “He has something inside him. Erin, it’s necromancy. I see it in his Stains.” I raised my burning hands. “You have to let me—”