by Angel Lawson
“Fifty simulated somethings. Bodies. Enemies.”
We’d seen a lot on the island.
“Between us and Crescent Homes?” Quinn asks. He touches his mask to get intel. There’s no doubt when he sees it. “Fuck.”
“We have to fight them all,” Draco says.
“Like those bastard ninjas in the jungle.”
Quinn sighs with exhaustion already.
“We can’t go around them?” Owen asks hopefully.
Astrid shook her head. “Nope.”
Quinn unfurls his whip, the tip blue with electricity. Draco clutches his shield, the edges razor sharp. Owen hooks his thumbs in the twin blades hanging on his belt, and Astrid tugs at her cuffs.
“We get through them and then we go after Rowe.”
“And if there’s more after that?” Draco asks. He’s speaking of Rex, Blaze, and Demetria.
She takes a step forward. “Then we keep fighting until The Swamp is won.”
31
Draco
The battle begins in a heartbeat; the indistinguishable shadows Casper saw on his tracker attacking the moment they turn the corner. It doesn’t take long to understand Demetria didn’t send an army of simulated men to fight them. Where’s the fun in that? She sent monsters instead.
It’s the stuff out of horror books—or deep in the recesses of her haunted mind. Things with teeth and claws.
“What the fuck?” Owen mutters after running his blade through one. It lands on the ground with a thud. “Where’s the ponies. The unicorns? The glitterbombs?”
Draco breaks the neck of one of the monsters and replies, “You do remember the dragon, right?”
Two beasts are on him immediately, claws extended. He spins and kicks one in the jaw while Owen flicks his fingers, creating a hole that swallows the monster. “At least dragons are cool. These things…” he shudders, tossing two more in the hole.
Draco frowns and looks into the dark abyss. “Where does that go?”
“Hell if I know but there are limits on how far our power goes. I don’t think those things can exist outside a certain range.”
Draco throws himself back in the fray. While killing, he hears the zap and crackle of Quinn’s whip stunning and decapitating the beasts. Astrid uses her whole arsenal to stop them; explosives on her belt, stunning spray from her cuffs. Her cheek coated the black spray of death.
But like a mirage, they never seem to make a dent in the monsters coming their way. They just expend themselves; their energy, their explosives…
“It’s all a diversion,” he says, breaking the drooling jaw of a beast.
“What?” Quinn asks, stomping his heel on a thick, muscular neck.
“Follow me.” He slams his shield into a row of animals and runs to the highest object he can find. A green metal dumpster pushed against a building.
He waves to Astrid and calls out to Owen. They follow, leaping to the top of the container—the sound of claws against the metal sides. “Why do we keep doing this?” Draco asks. “How does it continue to happen? It’s not real.”
Astrid wipes the goo off her face and holds it up. “Real enough.”
Quinn’s arm, muscular and strong, reveals a deep cut.
“They want to deplete us before we get out of here. Demetria won’t let up until we’re worn down.”
“The only way to stop these illusions is to stop her.”
“Where is she?” Draco says into his com; they’d cut Casper out so he could scan the Swamp for the other Supers and Rowe.
“I don’t know.”
“Find her!” Draco says, filled with rage. He’s tired of fighting. He glances at Astrid, her long hair messy, her shoulders slumped. The battle rages but he scans the city streets. Owen’s right. She can’t be far away to maintain this level of power.
The beasts converge around them, surrounding the box. Quinn places his hands on the building.
“What are you doing?” Astrid asks.
“I’m going to wipe them out.” His hands shake, absorbing all the energy coursing through the wires and lines running into the building. Draco scans the block looking for anything that could lead him to Demetria. There’s nothing down here. It’s a broken-down, lost community. It’s a wasteland.
One thing catches his eye—and he knows it’s his only chance.
“Everyone stay on the plastic lid,” Quinn says, preparing to jump. He watches as Astrid and Owen follow directions, hunkering down. Draco turns the other way, scaling the side of the building, reaching for the jutting bricks to leverage. He looks down and makes eye contact with Astrid at the very moment Quinn jumps into the mass of hungry beasts, slamming his palms on the pavement.
The hairs on Draco’s neck stand on end as the whole city is electrified. He jumps from building to building—in the air when Quinn lays his charge. The scent of burned hair and flesh fills the air.
Draco eyes the building he knows is Demetria’s refuge—the only place it can be—and plans to take her down once and for all.
He lands on the rooftop of the stone building, one of the oldest in the area. The small yard around it is well-kept. The sides are windowless but the front door is large and welcoming. It’s the only place offering refuge in The Swamp, including the church spouting fire and brimstone from its marquee.
Draco slides down the column by the door and tugs the handle. As suspected, it’s open. He crosses under the sign affixed to the top of the door.
All Imaginations Welcome
There’s one place that would feel like home for Demetria—a place she can feed on to bring out these horrors and awful illusions. A place every community has the right to.
The public library.
32
Astrid
The monsters, conjured from Demetria’s damaged mind, sizzle on the street, no more than empty shells.
Quinn is crouched on the ground still, hands flat on the ground as though he’s waiting for them to resurrect, but they’re gone—Quinn’s powers obliterating Demetria’s. It may not be the source, but at least they can compete.
“Where’s Draco?” Owen asks.
She’d seen him climb to the rooftops, but as to where he went? She has theories she doesn’t share. Not with Owen. She shrugs and notes the question in his eyes. Those two still haven’t worked out all their issues.
“That was fucking epic!” Casper shouts over the com. “The path is cleared and if the heat signatures are right, you’ve got a few frenemies waiting down the block.”
“Why does this feel like a video game or something? Level after level? Challenge after challenge?”
“Because all of this is a well-constructed game,” Astrid says, jumping off the dumpster. Her boot lands on the leg of one of the charred beasts and she kicks it away. “All being manipulated by Rowe and his psychotic father.”
“Well, you just leveled up sweetheart,” Casper says. “And you need to bring your best because if the sensors are working, those are Supers waiting for you at the end of the road.”
“One of them invincible,” Owen muttered.
“That just means you may have to use your brain instead of your fists,” Casper tells him.
“Any sign of Rowe?” she asks.
“Nope.”
“Clock’s ticking,” she says, starting down the road. Owen moves with her but Quinn? He’ still lingering behind, quiet and scratching his chin. His gloves held up through the massive blast. Monroe’s tech works well. “What’s wrong?”
“I think Owen and I need to take this one on, As. You go ahead.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Rowe is clearly trying to slow us down, but this is really about him, his ego and you.”
“I’m not leaving you to handle Blaze or Rex alone.” A tremor of fear rolls through her. Draco had already wandered off. She felt vulnerable without him by her side. She’d come to depend on them too much—as a unit. A team.
And what if something happened and she wa
sn’t there? What then? How would she go on?
Quinn runs his hand through his hair and takes a step forward. He brushes her wild hair over her shoulder. “We can’t keep fighting one battle at a time. You and I both know where Draco went. He’s cutting off Rowe’s arm. We’ll take care of the others.” His eyes penetrate hers. “You’ve fought Rowe before. And beat him.”
“So have you.”
He touches her chin. “Go kick his ass, Astrid. Find him and destroy him.”
“I don’t like this,” she whispers.
“Then let’s end it.” He brushes his lips across hers.
Owen squeezes her hand.
“Meet me at Crescent Homes?” she says.
“Deal.”
And like that, they go in opposite directions. Quinn and Owen off to take on two Supers—the strongest and most depraved among them. She pushes aside the question of ever seeing them again and slips into the dark, taking her usual back way to the housing project.
“Echo—” Casper says, buzzing into her ear. She cuts him off.
“Follow the others. I’ve got this.”
“Fuck no. I am not leaving you alone.”
She leans against the cool stone of the wall that separates the housing complex from the rest of the community. She feels the faint hum of life behind the barrier. A sole heartbeat.
“Casper, if I’m going to do this, I need to know you’re with them. I need the peace of mind of knowing you’ve got their backs, because if I win this fight and there’s nothing to come home to,
then I don’t know if it’s worth it.”
“If you lose this fight and I wasn’t here to help you, then they will never forgive me, Echo.”
“I love you, Casper. I love your filthy mouth and dirty mind. I love the scared boy and the emerging man. I love that you’ve loved me before I even knew you existed.” She touches the mechanism in her mask with her finger. “But I need to do this alone.”
“Echo, don’t.”
She sends a pulse through the wiring, a flare of energy strong enough to disable the system. There’s not a moment of second-guessing. This is between her and Rowe, a battle long brewing.
She climbs the stone wall, passes the now-abandoned apartments, stopping to look at the one Luby shared with his grandmother. That’s who she was fighting for—the weak and oppressed. The victims of ego-driven bastards that wanted to own and control the rest of the world. The Swamp first, Crescent City next, and…she didn’t want to think of what would come after that.
Fuck this guy and his insane father. Fuck them both to Hell.
Cool rage collects in Astrid’s mind and body now that she’s separated from the others. She’s pushed them from her mind, refusing to linger on worries. She focuses on the solitary heartbeat, the steady breath of her foe. She’s honed in, catching his scent, the leather of his jacket, the sulfur on his weapons. The lingering scent of charred flesh carries on the night breeze. Astrid rounds the corner on one of the buildings that she knows leads to the small green space between homes, that is no longer green and probably never had been, expecting to find Rowe.
Instead she finds a massive building, a home, three stories high with wide windows on the top. Marble columns and two arching staircases frame the front. It isn’t real. Of course not, but Rowe stands on the front porch, leaning over the railing.
“Welcome to Crescent Homes,” he said, wicked smile on his face. “I’ve been waiting.”
Astrid stares at the man whose father has caused so much pain for him and wishes she could show him mercy, but the breeze picks up and she catches two additional heartbeats, slow and fading.
The movement is what catches her eye. The sway from the railing. It was lost in the magnificence of the building and cold dread fills her stomach.
Hanging from thick ropes tied around their necks are two of her reasons for being here. For fighting in the first place.
Jensen and Luby.
33
Draco
The library remains untouched; quiet and serene. The scent of paper fills the air and he uses his heightened senses to seek out Demetria. It isn’t a surprise to find her in the children’s section, sitting on a soft green chair under a canopy of paper butterflies and flowers. Her eyes are closed, deep in concentration. She looks different from the last time he saw her. Cheeks gaunt, skin sallow. Gone is her flamboyant clothing and styled hair. There’s no glitter or glamour. Just a woman sitting in an oversized chair, surrounded by books.
Draco approaches her quietly, noting her shallow breathing and twitching nose. She’s in deep concentration, maintaining whatever illusion she’s created at the moment.
He pulls a blade.
He doesn’t want to kill her, but her power is too strong. Her mind too unbalanced. With the knife aimed and ready, he rears back and releases it.
Her dark eyes pop open and she waves her hand, blowing the knife out of the way. It buries itself in a shelf across the room.
“Draco, sweetheart,” she says, giving him a dangerous smile. “Sent to kill me?”
“No one sent me, Demetria. And I’m doing what I have to.”
She frowns. “So, you finally betrayed me. Like the others.”
“You’ve betrayed yourself.” He looks at the books on the floor. All dark fantasy, filled with monsters and evil. Inspiration. The top one has an image of a grand house. Her left hand is held steady, no doubt maintaining illusions he can’t see, most likely hurting his friends. “I never wanted it to come to this. I worked for you. I protected you and I thought maybe we could join forces.”
“You were all supposed to be mine,” she says in a soft voice. “My lost boys. But then she came.”
“This is not about Astrid.”
Her eyes lit up with anger. “Isn’t it? Don’t you know fairy tales always have a villain?”
“So do comic books and superhero movies,” he replies, standing tall over her. She may be weakened but she’s not without great power. The beasts outside proved that. His hand is close to his shield. “I’ve never been a lost boy, Demetria. And the villain always thinks they’re right. That they’ve been treated unfairly, betrayed, wronged.”
“So you’re saying I’m the villain?”
He bends down so they’re face to face. “No, Demetria. You’re not the bad-guy. You’re the pawn.” Her face contorts like he slapped her. “Scheid is behind this. Rowe. Their quest for power and control over us. They’ve exploited your weaknesses, Demetria. Your mental illness and ability to do exactly what you’ve never wanted.”
Her eyes falter at the undeniable truth. “And what is that?”
“In your rage to take out Astrid and to get us back, you’ve destroyed your home. The Swamp is no more. It’s a skeleton. Nothing but bones and the carcasses of your beasts.”
The words hit her hard but she’s not one to accept reality. Her eyes slide to the knife protruding out of the shelf. “You came to kill me, even after I gave you a home. A job. A purpose.”
Guilt. It weighs on him even though it shouldn’t.
“We can do it another way,” he says, knowing it may be too late. Draco values loyalty. Honor. Killing one of his own seems too much.
“What?” she asks. “Lock me in another cage? Numb me to take away my powers?”
“There are others out there—people that aren’t like Scheid. The doctors that tried to help us when we were kids. They weren’t all bad.”
She stares at him. Jaded. Guarded. “You realize he’s going to kill you all, don’t you? No one can stop them.” She looks at her hands—her nails no longer painted but short and plain. “No one can stop him.”
He looks down at her, sad that she’s so small. So lost. He can end this now.
“Draco—there’s an extraction helicopter on the way. Monroe’s men will take her.”
He already hears the faint beat of helicopter wings. “Take her where?”
“To safety—for now. We can negotiate later.” He hears the sympath
y in Casper’s voice. He carries the same weight. This woman took care of them, but she’s also done so much damage.
He slides the blade back in its sheath and removes the handcuffs off his belt; they’re the kind that disable powers. She doesn’t fight when he clamps them on her wrists.
They walk outside and she doesn’t struggle but they both look overhead.
“Friend or foe?” she asks with the tilt of her head. She nervously eyes the road that leads to Crescent Homes. The next battle is there and with Demetria out of the picture, Rowe may get desperate. He must hurry.
“Friend,” he replies, recognizing Monroe’s symbol on the side. It’s a lie. He has no idea what they’ll do with Demetria, but it can’t be worse than what Rowe has planned. “I can’t guarantee what will happen if you hurt someone.”
She smiles and with her hands bound touches his chin. “I know. I know.”
A soldier drops from the helicopter, attached to a cord. Draco warns him about the cuffs then straps Demetria in. A tug later and they zip back up, hurtling toward the sky.
The helicopter circles around the city and Draco moves on to the next fight.
34
Owen
His heart races when Astrid disappears around the street corner. Every fiber in his being tells him to go with her—to back her up—and he takes a step in her direction.
A fireball shoots into the air like a flare, bringing him back to reality.
They have their own battle to fight, and Astrid? She can take care of herself. He has no doubt about it.
“Fire balls?” he adds a string of curses. “I am so sick of these bastards.”
Fucking Rowe and his fucking monster-mind. He wonders for a brief moment if he does have a super power. Evil counts, right?
“Well, then, let’s go stop them for good.”
Owen lifts his hands and creates a shield; if anything it’ll buy them time to assess the situation.
“You really think Draco went to take down Demetria?” he asks. Owen doesn’t deny his distrust of the man. He knows Astrid has brought him in. He’s encouraged it, but there’s something about his relationship with Demetria that rubs him wrong.