“Right, but the people she’s killed, they were all incredibly bad people,” Amelia said without looking up.
Kate could feel a headache coming on. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Amelia, that doesn’t make it right,” she said.
“It makes it more tolerable. But, not right. Okay, I’ll try reaching out to her again. Maybe we can work something out so she isn’t out there killing people and we can still find the Th’un,” Amelia said.
“How are you going to do that and what can I do to help?” Kate asked.
“Uh, maybe you better let me handle this one. She was pretty pissed about our aborted team-up, so maybe if it’s just me she’ll go along. As for how... I know where she is.”
“You do?” Kate was stunned. Her green eyes narrowed for a moment. “How long have you known?”
“You can’t really hide from an AI.
“Epic?”
Her constant companion and personal AI displayed his answer on the large screen monitor on the wall, one of many that lined Amelia’s lab.
Madisun Dumas is currently staying in an AirBnB in downtown Phoenix. Her associate, Krisan Swahili, is in the Presidential Suite at the Phoenix Marriott. Pictures of both places replaced the text of his response.
“You need to tell the police,” Kate said.
Amelia shook her head, sending her short brown hair bobbing back and forth. “They haven’t officially asked you all for help, and I am not a member of the team anymore anyway. I’m not legally bound to do anything.”
“Amelia, hon, she’s a killer. Cold-blooded. I’ve seen her type before, in the agency. It’s what they wanted me to be. At a certain point, it won’t matter who she’s killing as long as she keeps killing. I felt a darkness in her soul that had no end. There aren’t enough bodies in the world to fill the hole inside her. Please, please, be careful,” Kate implored.
Amelia nodded. “I won’t condemn her for what she hasn’t done, Kate, and right now she’s doing a lot of good—” she held up her hand to forestall her friend's argument. “Having said that, I will get control of the situation. Maybe when we find the Th’un she’ll stop. If not...”
“What?”
Amelia smiled. “I’ve taken down more dangerous foes than a girl with a gun. I’ll be fine.”
CHAPTER 8
I stared at the phone, willing it to ring. I’d sent Krisan a message a few minutes before asking for an update and got nothing back.
Where is she?
The little apartment I was renting was nice enough to sleep in, but there wasn’t anything to do but stare at the walls or clean my guns. And they were already clean. Besides, I might need them on a moments notice so cleaning them would defeat the purpose of having them.
At least Spice was happy for the moment. The last thing I needed was the little devil trying to prove to me she was in charge—again.
If only things had worked out with Arsenal. We could have used her resources and tech to track down the Th’un in a heartbeat. But no, the heroes had to go and try and control me. I squeezed my fist. The thought of Domino attempting to mind control me pissed me off all over again.
The doorbell rang, startling me from my introspection. I leaped up, taking the 9mm Sig Sauer from under the coffee table and approaching the door slowly at an angle, with the gun pointed at the dead center.
It rang again. It was probably nothing, but there was no way for anyone to know I was home. I pushed the gun against the door and stood to the side of it. And waited.
“I know you’re in there, please open the door,” Amelia Lockheart said.
How the hell did she find me?
I peeked through the safety hole, expecting to see her in armor but no, just her in a wheelchair and a generic black SUV parked on the street.
“Crap,” I muttered.
“You’re being rude. Let her in,” Spice said from the corner.
“Your opinion is noted,” I muttered. I didn’t have much choice though. If she knew I was here, then she could have just called the cops.
“It’s really hot out here and my butt is sticking to the chair. If you’re going to shoot me—shoot, otherwise, open the door... Sam.”
That did it. She knew where I lived and what my cover ID was? That was too ridiculous to believe. If I found out nothing else, maybe I could figure out how she did that so I could keep her from doing it again.
I unlocked the three bolts and opened the door.
“You going to use that?” she said, nodding to the pistol resting at my side.
“I’m still deciding.”
“Can you decide while I’m inside? It’s stinking hot out here.”
I took a step back and let her in. She rolled through the door, moving over the jam like it wasn’t a problem. I had to admit, I admired her tenacity. She was stuck in a wheelchair, yet she never let that slow her down. Not to mention the armor she built for herself. She had no powers and was completely helpless, yet here she was, not in her armor, talking to me.
She had no way of knowing I wouldn’t kill her... and every expectation that I could and would kill her.
“I’d offer you something to drink, but I don’t have anything.”
“That’s fine,” she said, reaching down between her legs to a storage bag and pulling out two red Coke cans. She offered one to me.
I don’t even remember the last time I drank a can of sugar. I must have wrinkled my nose in disgust because she shrugged and put the second can aside, then openened the first one.
“So... you killed some people?” she asked casually.
“I didn’t murder anyone. They were cartel thugs who were about to send a bunch of young girls to a life of misery, drug addiction, and death. They deserved what they got,” I said hotly. I clicked the safety on the 9mm and put it back under the coffee table before dropping on the couch. “Is that what you’re here for? Bitch about me eradicating some roaches that were preying on the innocent?”
Amelia shook her head and took a sip of her soda. “I never said murder. They were committing a crime, you stopped them. I seriously doubt they would have just said, ‘our bad, you got us’ if you had asked for them to surrender,” she said.
I narrowed my eyes. Something was going on here and I didn’t know what it was. “Am I supposed to believe you’re suddenly okay with my methods?” I asked.
She laughed, then snorted before putting her hand over her mouth and nose. After a moment, and a blush, she spoke. “No, Madisun, I am most definitely not okay with your methods. But, as far as I can tell you’ve only ever killed people who were utterly despicable. We have the same goal—”
“I seriously doubt that,” I said.
“Why do you say that?” she asked.
I leaned back and looked out the window for a second, trying to imagine where Lockheart was coming from. Sure, she had adversity in her life—wheelchair-bound has to have an effect on her person—but she was rich, powerful, the darling of the superheroing world. What could she possibly know about suffering?
“Listen, Lockheart. You go into each situation with an overwhelming force. Your armor protects you and the ones you love. I’ve seen the footage—you handle a lot of these supervillains with ease. Sure you had to make some tough calls, I’ll grant you that. But you’ve never lost anything. Look at you, sitting here in your million dollar wheelchair with a fully automated SUV outside. You have private planes, a mountain lair, hell, you have your own personal AI.”
I expected her to get defensive about what I was saying, I would. Instead, her face darkened a shade and her lips thinned from... anger?
“Dumas. You. Don’t. Know. Me,” she said slowly and carefully like she measured each word before speaking. Her little hands clenched into tight fists and she pushed them down against her chair until they were white. I wasn’t expecting a rage response.
“Don’t I? Your life is an open book and—” she cut me off before I could finish.
“I lost my parents!” she yelled. “I
lost the man I loved. He died, not in front of me, but fifty years before I was born. I murdered an entire species. The weight of my failures would crush me if I didn’t have Kate and the rest of my friends. Don’t talk to me about loss. I’m sorry you lost your family, but you’re not the only person in the world to ever suffer at the hands of others. And you’re right, we’re not the same... but we both want the same thing. To stop the Th’un. You have your reasons and I have mine.” The anger and pain she carried with her through her last few moments faded slowly as she picked up her Coke and downed another gulp. She wiped the back of her mouth and closed her eyes for a second.
“I’m sorry about your man,” I said quietly. “I... I didn’t know about that. What happened?” I didn’t know why I was suddenly reaching out to her. But the pain in her voice touched something inside of me. A kindred part, and though we had virtually nothing in common, we had that. Pain.
“When I told you your ghost wasn’t the craziest thing I’d seen, I was being serious. Luke died of old age in the nineteen-fifties. After we went back in time to retrieve a prophetess of Apollo but instead ended up unleashing Nemesis the goddess of retribution on the Earth...”
My eyes went wide with disbelief.
“Yeah, that’s why I didn’t tell anyone and why it’s not in the news reports of what happened after the FBI raided the Spire. Ever since then, a group called ARC have been causing problems and it seemed easier to not say anything at all,” she said with a sigh. The air let out of her and she sank a little in her chair.
“Time travel... and I thought my curse was a problem,” I said with a whisper.
“Hey,” Spice said indignantly from the corner. I glanced up and glared at her for a second. Lockheart turned her head to look where I did then back at me.
“Is she here?” she asked.
“She takes the form of my little sister. Usually, only I can see her, but I guess she wanted you to see her the other day. She feeds on death and...” What was I doing telling this woman my secrets? I shook my head. Well, maybe if she understood then she would back off. “She gives me my powers, and when I kill she takes the life force of the dying and feeds off it.”
Lockheart went white as a ghost for a second before swallowing loud. “Like a vampire?” she asked.
I nodded. “Pretty much. The more I kill, the more powerful we become.” I didn’t mention that during the day we had limited powers; there was no point in telling her everything.
“That explains what Kate felt... You control it, right?” she asked.
I nodded. “We’ve come to an accord. Her concern is staying well-fed, my concern is that only the guilty die. She is willing to take a backseat as long as I keep killing.” I waved my hand through the air for emphasis. “Under no circumstances will we kill an innocent. Ever. I don’t do this to kill, I do it for justice. The people I hunt, they are immune to prosecution, they will never be arrested, and they will never-ever, stop. My only chance is to make them so damned afraid of me that they would rather piss their pants and stay home at night than go outside and commit their atrocities on mankind.”
Amelia grinned, despite her clear trepidation. “Well, I heard what you did the other night and I’m pretty sure you’re scaring the crap out of them. Hell, you scare me and I’ve faced down a magical Titan that destroyed the earth in an alternate timeline.”
I did a double-take at that. “Your world is too big for me,” I said in awe. “I can’t fight that crap. Give me a drug cartel running heroin and trafficking people and I can deal with that. Gods and monsters? Nooo thank you.”
“Let’s set some ground rules, then. Agreed?” she asked.
I nodded.
“One. I’m sorry about Kate. She didn’t mean to push you that hard, but apparently, your will is as strong as iron. She was just trying to keep everyone alive and she didn’t mean anything malicious by it, okay?”
“Sure. I still don’t want to work with her,” I said. The memory of thinking things that weren’t me was disconcerting and I never wanted to go through that again.
“I won’t plan on it, but we may need her at some point. Two, and I think we understand each other on this, only the really bad people die, correct?”
I laughed. “Yes. I don’t run around killing every criminal I find. They have to be doing something pretty iredemable to warrant that kind of action. Besides, there’s always a hundred more to take their place. I want the bosses, the people who’ve made that life their choice. That’s who I want.”
“Goodie,” she said with a big smile. “I have something for you then.” She reached back into her bag and pulled out a black pistol that looked like something out of a b-movie. She handed it to me grip first. As soon as my hand touched the grip a blue light sprang to life where the hammer would normally be. “Epic, register it for Madi only, please. No destruct protocol.” She briefly looked up like she was reading something then back at me. “What do you think?”
I looked at the gun, examining the smooth lines and the way the grip swept back. It hummed slightly under my fingers. I pointed it at the wall and a holographic sight popped into view over the weapon, showing me heat and power levels along with a targeting reticule.
“It uses my propriety tech. It will never run out of juice, but the capacitor takes time to charge. You get about 20 shots then you have to wait ten seconds for it to recharge.”
It did feel an awful lot like the gun the Saints’ security team used, and I really liked those. “Thanks,” I said. “I’m sorry I don’t have a gift for you.”
“Let’s call it a formal apology for any misteps we’ve had to this point. That is an IP pistol. It fires a burst of energy that disrupts the human nervous system. It works awesome unless the density of the target’s skin is too high—then not so much. I usually only find that kind of resistance in F4s or higher. Speaking of which... how do you”—she mimed cutting someone’s throat—“F4 and F5s?”
I grinned savagely. “If they have a mouth, then I have a place to put a grenade.”
She blanched and I laughed. This might work out okay after all.
“What next, then? Do you have a lead?” she asked.
“Yes, but first, I’m sorry about breaking into the Spire. Is your fast friend okay?”
She cracked her neck. “He’s more embarrassed that you got the drop on him than anything else. He heals fast and we have a man who increases a person’s ability to regenerate. He would love to have you come show him what he did wrong, though. It’s not easy to get one up on a speedster,” she said.
“Maybe. I don’t really do groups well.” I stuffed the IP pistol into my waistband at the small of my back. “My friend is going to call with a location here in a few minutes. My usual MO is I shake the tree and start picking off the fruit that falls until I find the last fruit,” I said.
“I like it. Is the person you’re waiting for Krisan Swahili? Former reporter at the Detroit Free Press and persona non-grata to my security team?” she asked.
“Yeah... sorry about that.”
“To be honest, as long as she actually writes the piece about them we’ll call it bygones,” she said.
“Bygones,” I repeated. I reached out and held my hand for her to shake. She did. And we both smiled.
CHAPTER 9
Ponce Montez hailed the cab from Phoenix airport with a sharp whistle. He wasn’t a big fan of the States, but he did appreciate the way the basic things seemed to just work. He used to think it was their arrogance and money that made the lights stay on and the water run clean. After traveling back and forth for the better part of a decade he realized they were so used to it working that the people who ran it had a vested interest in keeping it working. If it didn’t work, the people of this country would go after them with the a zeal that would make a muslim fanatic pale. Americans wouldn’t put up with electricity that didn’t work. The wouldn’t stand for it. Heads would roll if their lights didn’t work. He wished Mexico was more like that, but his people wo
uld put up with a great deal as long is it mean they didn’t call attention to themselves.
In his home of Mexico, the government cared little for what the people wanted. They already had all the money so why would they need to provide reliable basic services such as power, police, and fire services? Only the very wealthy received those and it was considered a status symbol to have police protection.
In the United States, anyone could call the police— homeless, poor, or wealthy—and reasonably expect them to help. He shook his head. Amazing. Of course, it was also what made his boss’s business so profitable. These people were sheep. It was no wonder they were able to steal tens of thousands of their children every year and no one noticed. After all, the lights stayed on and the water flowed.
Ponce smiled as he slipped into the cab. He handed the driver a card with the address of his boss’s brother-in-law’s apartment. The fool hadn’t checked in with them in several days and the reports of the massacre of the cartel’s forces were starting to come in. Surely they had to be exaggerated. No one would dare attack them.
He made one stop before continuing to his location and that was to pick up a pistol from an associate. After that, the cab dropped him off at Carmine’s apartment building.
After paying the driver he made his way up the stairs to the third floor then to the door. Police tape covered it, declaring it a crime scene.
This isn’t good.
The door was unlocked and he ducked under the tape to make sure there was no evidence of his passing. The apartment was nice: a leather couch, big TV, set-apart kitchen… After all, Carmine was supposed to bring women back here and impress them with his wealth.
Ponce chuckled as he moved through. The place was clean and well kept, and if the police had searched it they had found nothing.
Of course, they didn’t know what to look for. He went into the kitchen and opened the oven, then knelt down and reached in and removed the false back by pushing on it and lifting up. It was a clever hiding place for anything sensitive. The oven was never used, and if they had to destroy the evidence all they had to do was hit the self-cleaning mode on the oven and the papers and money in the hidden spot would burn up.
The Wraith: Danger Close (Superhero by Night Book 4) Page 6