by Sophie Davis
I opened my mouth to argue for no better reason than I was feeling disagreeable, but then remembered this wasn’t about me. Every second I spent being obstinate was one more second Erik was locked in a cell.
I heard Frederick’s boots hit the concrete floor with a thud a second later.
Dropping first to my knees and then my stomach, I slithered over the edge feet first and pushed off. The distance from roof to ground was farther than I’d estimated, and bolts of pain shot up through my knees when I hit bottom. There was no time to assess myself for damage because Janelle was already on her way down. Quickly I moved out of her way, my eyes sweeping the corridor for signs of trouble. Crane, Jared, and Marcel were already moving towards Echo tower, their guns drawn. Frederick stood several feet to my right and was waving me forward. I glanced over my shoulder at Janelle, who was tentatively rotating her ankle. She gave me a thumbs up, which I took to mean she wasn’t actually injured.
My earpiece crackled with static. “How’s it look down there?” Brand asked.
The doors to Echo section burst open, and black-clad TOXIC operatives exploded onto the bridge.
“Hostile,” I hissed in reply as the firefight began.
Bullets whizzed through the air, one so close to my head that I actually heard the whistle. I dropped into a crouch, instinctively repelling the projectiles with my mind. Realizing that my efforts were doing those in front of me no good, I expanded my talents, creating a shield around our fivesome. The operatives continued to fire on us, but their ammunition fell short of any planned target.
Crane, Jared, and Marcel advanced as one. Holding the shield was costing me too much energy, so I switched tactics. No guns, no way to stop our assault. I focused on the TOXIC operatives and tore their weapons from their fingers. This was met with enough surprise for the Coalition soldiers to incapacitate – some permanently – the guards. But a wave of reinforcements was already flooding through the open doors ahead of us.
Behind us, I heard shouts as more operatives poured onto the bridge from the main building. They were like two tidal waves converging, and our group was caught in the middle. For a brief instant, I froze. We were outnumbered ten to one, at least. I had no clue where Brand’s team was, but if they landed now, they’d be walking into an ambush.
Don’t panic, think, I ordered myself. Even the odds.
Echo section was my ultimate goal. I needed to clear the path forward, the path to Erik. But I could destroy the path behind me. Fully aware that doing so might mean reducing the chances of rescuing Crane’s imprisoned soldiers, I made my decision.
I spun on my boot heel to face the entrance of the main building and began running towards the new threat. Once my five other teammates were behind me, I stopped dead in my tracks. I let the power inside of me build until it felt like my skin was going to split. Then I focused on a spot three feet in front of my toes, channeling all of the energy inside of me into one steady stream before letting the dam break.
“Bravo team, the bridge is compromised. Repeat, the bridge is compromised,” I heard Crane say in my earpiece. He’d picked up on what I was about to do.
“What’s happening?” was Brand’s frantic reply.
“Initiate plan B,” Crane ordered.
Plan B was repelling into the courtyard in the center of the prison’s main building.
“Affirmative,” Brand said after a long pause.
The crack in the concrete started off small. I pumped more and more energy out of myself and into the ground, driving the wedge deeper and deeper. Finally, the support beams snapped and the part of the bridge between me and the main building was no more. The sound was like breaking tree branches to my hypersensitive ears. The shrieks of the prison guards as they plummeted twenty stories were horrific, and I knew their death screams would haunt my nightmares. Us or them, Brand had said. Well, I’d chosen us.
Unfortunately, my stunt had only gotten rid of half of “them.” There was still a battle taking place behind me, and I didn’t have time to dwell on the people I’d just killed.
Oh god, I’d killed TOXIC operatives.
“What the hell!” Brand’s angry voice yelled into my earpiece.
Yeah, he’s going to make sure I pay for that, I thought.
“No choice,” I spat back. “I’m sorry,” I added.
A string of expletives followed, but I ignored Brand. Right now, I had bigger concerns.
Not wanting his angry words in my ear, I tore the electronic device free from my ear, and tucked it into the neck of my suit.
Muscles tensed and ready for a fight, I turned to throw myself into the melee taking place on the still intact half of the bridge. Several of the prison guards had morphed. A raven was circling above where Jared was engaged in hand-to-hand combat with two human guards. The bird managed to dodge the flying fists while dive-bombing Jared to peck at the exposed skin of his cheeks and neck. Beyond them, Crane and Janelle were wrestling an orange and black striped tiger. A pack of snarling black dogs had Marcel surrounded. He’d lost his gun somewhere along the way and was fending them off with two long blades. One of the dogs leapt forward to attack and let out a glass-shattering howl as Marcel sunk one of his blades into the thick tuft of hair covering the dog’s chest. I looked away as Marcel pulled the crimson-stained knife free.
“Who is next?” he taunted the animals in a richly accented voice.
The flow of guards coming through the doors from Echo section seemed to have dried up. With the guards on the bridge occupied, I stood a decent chance of making it through the fray without being stopped. I could go get Erik, and we could all get the hell out of here.
I started to jog towards the open doors at the far end of the corridor. As I passed the spot where Crane and Janelle were fighting with the tiger, I realized that they were actually trying to pull the beast off of someone. The cat’s orange fur now had black and blood-red stripes. I came to a screeching halt beside them.
Please, no, I silently begged. With my other five team members accounted for, the tiger’s victim had to be Frederick. The cat threw its head back and roared when Janelle drove a blade into the matted fur between its shoulder blades. Bright white canines the length of my forearm snapped at her as the cat twisted and bucked to throw Janelle off. Crimson droplets flew from the cat’s teeth, peppering the floor and walls with Frederick’s blood.
“NO!” I screamed.
Casualties were a given on a mission of this magnitude, but Frederick would not be one of them. I might have been mad at him, but I still cared about him.
I whipped a knife from my belt, and with a flick of my wrist let the blade fly. The tiger’s thrashing made aiming impossible, but using telepathy I was able to guide the weapon through the air towards my target. Bullseye, I thought, when nothing but the hilt protruded from between the cat’s yellow eyes. Everyone and everything froze for the briefest of moments, and then the tiger was gone and a large human man collapsed in a pile of limbs.
Crane and Janelle made quick work of rolling the dead body off of Frederick. I hurried to help. The cat’s claws didn’t appear to have torn Frederick’s suit, but had left long, angry gashes down his face and neck. I sank to my knees, and gently pushed strands of bloody blonde hair from his closed eyes.
“Frederick?” I asked frantically.
He was so still. Only when I noticed his chest rise did I resume breathing myself. He was alive; at least that was something. His eyes fluttered open, and big brown orbs peered up at me through long lashes.
“I’m okay, I think,” he said, wincing when he touched the widest slash running across his left cheekbone. The wound bled freely, but he waved off my attempts to wipe his cheeks.
Marcel screeched out several swear words in French from down the corridor.
Crane, Janelle, and I all glanced over. One of the dogs had attached itself to Marcel’s leg and was gnawing on it like a bone. Marcel was swiping at the animal with his knives, but all that seemed to do was annoy i
t. This gave the remaining canines the opening they needed to attack without the worry of meeting the pointy end of one of his blades.
“Go. I’ve got him,” I told Crane and Janelle.
Crane nodded to me, raised his gun, and took off to help his soldier. Janelle was only a step behind her commander.
Frederick managed to sit up on his own, but needed assistance getting to his feet. With his arm slung over my shoulders, I bore the brunt of his weight, and together we were able to get him off the ground. Frederick took a couple tentative steps and swung his arms across his chest as if making sure all his limbs worked properly.
“I’m good,” he assured me a moment later.
“Talia, you and Frederick go. Get to Erik. We’ll hold them off as long as we can, and then follow,” Crane’s voice filled my head.
“Affirmative,” I sent back before relaying the order to Frederick.
Together, we sprinted for the doorway. As we approached, Frederick slowed and drew his gun, gesturing for me to do the same. He held one finger to his lips in the universal sign for “be quiet.” I let him take the lead as we crept forward. I focused on my senses, expanding all of them simultaneously. The slight shuffling of nervous feet on concrete, heavy breathing, accelerated beating of several hearts. Four guards. I tapped Frederick on the shoulder and held up four fingers to let him know. He nodded that he understood. Then he pointed at the automatic weapon still strapped on my back. Rotating the gun, I placed my finger on the trigger and flipped the safety.
Fredrick picked up a piece of ceiling that had broken off when I’d blown up the other half of the bridge. He threw it through the open doorway and into the darkened hallway beyond. Two guards materialized immediately. They fired without hesitation, but I caught the bullets with my mind before they came anywhere close to me or Frederick.
Frederick returned fire, but apparently I wasn’t the only telekinetic in this fight. His bullets didn’t reach their targets either. I opened my mind and latched on to the two men I could see. They both fell to their knees, clasping their ears. I knew the pain they were experiencing was horrendous. One curled into the fetal position and writhed in agony. The other met my eyes, his baby blues holding my purple gaze. He reminded me of Donavon.
A sick feeling started in my stomach, rising to my chest and gripping my lungs. These were TOXIC operatives. I’d already sent so many to their deaths, and now I was staring into this prison guard’s eyes and torturing him. Was I really any better than Mac? Wasn’t I abusing my power as a means to an end?
A trickle of blood leaked between the blue-eyed guard’s fingers from the ears he was cupping. I did the most merciful thing I could think of: I took over his mind and made him pass out.
The other two guards I’d felt moved into view as Frederick and I passed through the doorway. Recognition slapped me across the face: one of the guards was Desmond.
I’d met Desmond the previous week. Erik had introduced us. They had been friends at school. Rage consumed me. Knowing that Desmond was one of Erik’s jailers made me physically ill. I charged past Frederick as gunfire erupted in the corridor. I threw the bullets aside and let loose an inhuman scream as I launched myself through the air at Desmond.
“Tal, no!” Frederick screamed behind me.
I ignored his plea. In that moment nothing mattered but avenging the betrayal. When my hands collided with Desmond’s chest, they were actually paws. I had morphed into the wolf. Primal instincts took over, and I snapped at his face and neck. I should’ve been more concerned about the other guard, but I wasn’t.
Desmond was strong, and recovered quickly after his initial shock at seeing me morph. He threw me off of him. My back collided with something hard, a wall, I thought. Pain shot up my spine, and stars danced across my vision. I raised a hand to my head and realized that I’d changed back to human.
Desmond advanced towards me, his gun pointed at my head. I froze. Time seemed to stand still, silence deafened my ears. My eyes narrowed on the barrel, and suddenly I was back in the basement of Crane’s Nevada home. I couldn’t think straight. Part of me knew what I had to do, but my muscles didn’t want to work. Instead, I sat frozen as an ice sculpture.
The crack of gunpowder shattered the silence, and I screamed: a bloodcurdling, window-shattering scream. Pain shot out in a starburst from my side. My hands flew to the wound, hoping to staunch the flow of blood. I continued screaming, despite the raw feeling in my throat.
Strong hands pulled mine away from my wound.
“You’re okay, Talia,” a voice whispered soothingly in my ear. “You’re okay.”
I looked down at my side. The material was still intact. No blood soaked through my suit. I looked at my shaking hands. They were dry too.
“You’re okay,” Crane repeated, pulling me to my feet.
I peered over Crane’s shoulder to where Janelle, Marcel, and Jared stood. Marcel was scratched and bleeding, and had what looked like fang marks on the side of his throat. Jared had added a lot more bruises to the collection I’d given him. And Janelle was favoring her left leg. But they were still alive. I was shocked by how relieved that made me.
Frederick crossed from where he’d been kneeling next to Desmond’s body. “He’s dead,” he said flatly.
Get a grip, Talia, I chastised myself. That lapse in composure had nearly cost me my life. Had Crane hesitated before firing, I’d be dead. I shook off the thought. No time for what-ifs. Move forward.
Erik was so close now. Just as I’d told Crane I would, I felt him. The overabundance of power he’d been given was calling to me. “I’m coming, Erik,” I sent, just in case he was listening.
“There should be a stairwell ahead on the left,” Crane said. He had out a portable communicator and was consulting the prison’s blueprints. “Talia, can you tell whether there are more guards nearby?”
I took a deep breath and concentrated. There was a lot of brain activity in Echo section. Most of it in the lower levels, though. Above us, there were only a handful of minds. Five, maybe six or seven. It was hard to be sure since the signals I was getting were fuzzy, like the reception was bad or my antenna needed fine-tuning. But one signal came through louder and clearer than all the rest: Erik.
My heart was so light I felt like it would float right out of my chest. He was alive. I started to run in the direction of the stairwell Crane had indicated.
“Talia?” Crane called after me.
I didn’t slow. Erik was drawing me to him like a magnet, and I wouldn’t have been able to change direction had I wanted to. But I didn’t want to. All I wanted was to see him, touch him, hold him.
“Talia?” Crane called again.
Four sets of feet were running down the hallway after me.
“No guards,” I called over my shoulder. “I’m pretty sure it’s only prisoners from this level up. The brain patterns feel like the people are drugged or something.”
The door to the stairwell was exactly where Crane thought it should be. I jogged up the two flights with Crane and the others trailing close behind. The closer I got to Erik’s cell, the stronger the pull was. Exceptionally powerful talents always had this effect on me. Truthfully, they had this effect on a lot of people – talented or not. But I’d never felt a pull this strong. It was like I was a fish who’d taken the bait and was being reeled in, hook, line, and sinker.
Part of me knew this attraction to Erik wasn’t normal, and that fact should’ve scared me. Being a Mimic, he didn’t emit an essence the way I did. It was only because Mac had injected him with so many talent signatures that he did now. I tried not to think of the implications of that.
At the landing, I reached for where the door handle should have been, and came up empty. The door was one solid sheet of metal. No window and no handle. Next to the door, at roughly eye-level for someone of normal height, was a retinal scanner. The stairwells were designed so anyone could enter, but only authorized personnel could exit.
“Shit,” Jared swore
.
“Maybe it will work for Natalia?” Marcel suggested.
“My clearance wasn’t high enough before I left. No way that door will open for me now,” I said, trying not to sound as defeated as I felt.
“If it does, we’re walking into a trap,” Janelle pointed out.
I glanced over my shoulder and met Crane’s dark gaze. Contemplative was the only way to describe his expression. Curious, I swiped his mind. He was mulling over our limited options. He dismissed one idea, discarding it into the improbable pile. I, however, thought it was genius, and wanted to make an attempt.
“I can do it,” I sent him confidently.
Crane’s thoughts were doubtful, which irritated me until I realized why. In his eyes, I was still the little girl who’d witnessed her parents’ murders. My irritation dimmed a little.
“Ian, I can do it,” I repeated, more forcefully this time. I also didn’t give him the opportunity to disagree.
Exhaling, I plucked an image from my mental database – one I knew as well as my own reflection. Eyes the color of the sky on a cloudless day filled my mind. I concentrated all of my energy on duplicating those baby blue eyes – Donavon’s eyes – down to the minutest detail. The morph was small, so slight that only a faint pressure in my eye sockets told me it was taking place.
I stood on tiptoes in front of the retinal scanner, and tried not to blink while a thin, red beam scanned from left to right and back again across my eyeball. At first, nothing happened. My heart sank. God, I really sucked at this morphing thing. Then, to my astonishment, the airlock released and the door swung outward.
“Impressive,” Janelle whistled when I turned to grin stupidly at the group. The victory was small, but outsmarting Mac felt empowering. And Janelle was right. The morph might have been small, but it was impressive, particularly since the talent was new to me. Human to human morphs were, for whatever reason, extremely difficult for most Morphers. In fact, I didn’t personally know any who’d managed it.
I blinked three times in rapid succession, and the pressure returned for a split second while my irises darkened to their normal deep purple.