Final Solstice

by David Sakmyster

  But Mason was barely listening. He glanced at the TV, which for a moment before it shut off, displayed a scene from the hallway outside, where Haitian Jack, his white scrubs flowing behind him like a cape, strode toward an exit.

  “I know,” Mason said, turning back to the doctor. “I had a feeling she’d pull through. Can I see her now?”

  Chapter 30

  Haitian Jack strode toward the exit sign with the inescapable feeling that he wouldn’t make it there. He could sense it in the changing barometric pressure. Someone strong was nearby. At least one, and then possibly more outside.

  Had they already constructed a cage? Trapped Jack like a flightless bird?

  He was about to find out, but didn’t want to tip his hand. He had time, and patience. And he had to win out, if not … there was no one left.

  No one but Mason. The new blood, on his own to prevent the Green Kingdom.

  The brother had no chance, not alone, not this late in the game.

  Jack had to survive.

  A red light flashed on the outside of a room up ahead and a nurse came running out. “You, doctor, in here now!”

  Jack cursed; he had forgotten to remove the coat and before he knew it she had grabbed his arm and brought him into the room. By that point, it actually occurred to him, this could work in his favor. He could hide out here, buy some time until the defenses outside tired, and then …

  He looked at the bed, a withered old man, gasping for air.

  Well, Jack thought, may have to cure this one first. Or at least, ease his suffering.

  He stepped in, then felt a cold blast of air, turned and saw the nurse, a dazed look on her face, sliding out the door and into the hall before the door slammed shut.

  And the skeletal man on the bed sat up, wrinkles pulling back as his face changed slightly and the features rearranged into a familiar leering visage of hate and arrogance that only came a lifetime misusing power.

  Damn it all.

  Old Man Stanwick.

  O O O

  Jack had a moment to react, and it was just enough. He pulled out his staff, created a whirlwind shield out of the air and blocked a barrage of sharp thorns the old man sent his way, scattering the pellets into the ceiling and walls.

  Over the wind and the thunking of the thorns into metal and glass, Stanwick’s cackling laughter filled Jack’s ears.

  He cursed, knelt low and slammed down his staff, and out of the vents in the walls and the ceiling erupted a horde of locusts, cascading down onto Stanwick. The old man tried to scream out a counter attack, but the insects flew into his throat and sealed up his lips.

  The whirlwind vanished and Jack leapt onto the bed, about to strike down with his staff and end Old Man Stanwick for good—when he sensed something else. Behind him.

  He spun, and out came a hulking brute of a man from the closet where he’d been hiding. A scar on his face and dual-colored eyes, the man pulled a gun and aimed—

  Not one of us, Jack thought gratefully. This, he could deal with, but almost got one in the back.

  Two shots rang out, missing where Jack had been seconds earlier, and was now just a blur, moving about the room like the wind. Here, then there, and the brute kept firing, shouting, and then a shot punched through the window.

  A gust of wind, like they had just depressurized an airline cabin, and Jack swooped down, grabbed hold of Stanwick and let the winds tug them both outside, crashing through the window and dropping.

  O O O

  Victor ran to the window’s edge, still aiming his gun, looking for a target and cursing the Haitian’s trickery. How could he miss from point-blank? He saw the target and the old man strike the ground in a pair of whirling cyclones, flopping, rolling and spinning. Jack was quicker to gain his feet as the old man wearily stood, shaking his head and coughing his lungs free of bugs.

  Damn it, Victor thought, weighing his options and feeling useless up here. He had no such talents, despite years of training. Years left to go before he could manage anything but some minor mind clouding and temperature manipulation. No, he’d be better used up on the roof. Where he could survey the battle and lend a hand if needed.

  He turned, and ran for the stairs.

  O O O

  Haitian Jack leapt to his feet, sent a volley of flying beetles to assault Stanwick, then again summoned a whirlwind.

  Time to test the containment. He launched in a spinning drill form and raced for the sky, zeroing in on the crescent moon like a beacon. He spun faster and faster and chose his trajectory—only to rebound hard and painfully off an invisible barrier and come crashing down over the parking lot. He slammed hard onto the roof of a Chevy Minivan. Rolled off in a rain of glass and metal, and held out his hand.

  His staff fell right into it and he was up, bruised and bloody, but fully in control. The car’s alarm was shrill and repetitive, and would draw security quickly.

  He’d have to move fast, have to seek out the totems—markers enchanted with powerful runes that contained his magic within. He could go that way, he thought in a moment, or he could test the upward confines. If it wasn’t done properly, then there should be an exit at the top, a point at which the dome hadn’t been sealed skillfully enough.

  He’d need a launching point.

  The roof …

  He eyed the building, preparing himself for another jaunt to the apex, when he heard the shuffling footsteps, impossibly quick, of Old Man Stanwick. He loomed up like Nosferatu himself, and just as frightening with crazed eyes and blackened teeth. He raised his staff and ball lightning shot from over his shoulders, twin orbs racing ahead like catapulted boulders.

  Jack leapt into the air, his left foot stepping on the first ball and vaulting over it just as he swung his staff at the other. He struck it with a fast baseball-swing hook and knocked it back at Stanwick. The old man held out his staff and absorbed the entire purple-lightning globe and sucked it harmlessly back into himself.

  Landing in front of the old man, Jack crouched, his staff ready.

  Stanwick lowered his head. “You can’t win, Jack. Should have joined us.”

  “And you, old man, should know when to retire.” He struck the ground again, and this time it unleashed a fury of snakes and enormous burrowing centipedes. They quickly ensnared Stanwick’s ankles and pulled him down. But this time he was ready. He hissed and spat and the ground burst into flame, searing the reptiles and freeing his legs and feet—as he calmly walked free, kicking off the flames and the charred reptile bones clinging to his pants.

  He raised his hand and tree trunks speared up from the ground, sharp angular vines stabbing and swinging. One cut through Jack’s left arm, nearly slicing it off at the elbow, and another gouged into his right calf.

  Howling in pain, Jack writhed and then spun and struck the bark with his staff, shattering it in an explosion of ice. Freed of one, then the other just in time, he struck out at Stanwick and landed a blow on the old man’s cheek. Then he took to the air, floated up on a current and as he saw Stanwick recover and start mumbling another spell, Jack flung himself backwards and up on another gust that carried him away.

  Awkwardly, much less in control, he used some of his energy to heal his wounds, close up the calf and repair tissues in his arm, so that when he landed with a thud on the rooftop beside one of many exhaust fans, he was ready.

  He breathed deep, figuring he’d have a few moments to prepare and locate the weak points in the cage. He looked up, and adjusted his sight, shifting into avian eyesight, gauging wind currents and air movements, and he saw then the unnatural bend of the cage, keeping out various frequencies of power, letting in others. And there it was, a man-sized hole just off the center.

  That, he could make. No problem, mon, as they said back home. He would live to fight another day. Regroup and help this novice Mason, the brother who could become much more than he knew. There was still time. But then a nagging thought crept into his mind. Nagging that maybe the gap existed right above the ro
of just so that he’d be maneuvered here.

  No that couldn’t be, no such trick to play on ol’ Jack. He just had to act fast. He just …

  But that’s when he sensed something else.

  Someone else.

  Not the brute, who he saw now emerging from the rooftop entrance, gun in hand, but someone else … behind him.

  Haitian Jack spun, staff up—but not in time.

  Damnit, mon.

  It was the younger one. The son.

  Gabriel smiled as he stepped from the shadows, wearing a black hooded sweatshirt. He traced a quick sigil in the air with his staff and then exhaled. A burst of icy arctic wind slammed into Jack and hurtled him clear across the roof, slamming him hard into the metal grating beside the door Victor had just stepped out from moments ago.

  Pinned there, Jack tried to clear his head. Just a second. All I need to take you down, just …

  But then the brute pressed the muzzle of his gun against Jack’s temple. “Dodge this, asshole,” he said and squeezed the trigger.

  Chapter 31

  Mason hid the ivory staff in the room’s closet just in time, tucked it back on the top shelf behind his laptop bag, then closed the door just as Gabriel walked in.

  “Dad, good to see you made it back. Unscathed,” he added with a sarcastic twist of his lip that Mason didn’t care for in the least, but he smiled back.

  “Nothing I hadn’t been through before.” He let that hang out there, considering his son. The black sweatshirt, the dark jeans and leather boots. “Where were you? I thought you’d be in the waiting room?”

  “Pacing around,” Gabriel said. “Trying to find the doctors, checking out the facilities.”

  “Pretty confident your mother was going to be okay?”

  Gabriel titled his head. “She’s a fighter. I had strong hopes.”

  Mason nodded, about to add something when the orderlies came in, wheeling Lauren. Gabriel stepped out to let them pass. After they shifted her to the bed and attached all the right wires and equipment, they left and Gabriel came back in to join Mason on the opposite side of his mother.

  “So peaceful,” Gabriel noted. “They said …”

  “I know what they said. I was here when the doctor came in.”

  Gabriel nodded. “All right then.” He pulled up a chair and had a seat, letting out a deep sigh as if he’d just strained himself. “So what else should we talk about? How’s work?”

  Mason glared at him. “Can’t say it’s been the most rewarding first week on a job.”

  Gabriel smiled and rubbed at some scuff mark on his boot. “You also can’t say it’s been dull, I imagine.”

  “Certainly not.” Mason pulled up the last free chair and sat down.

  “So,” Gabriel said. “I hear you went a little off-roading after Lawton.”

  Nodding, Mason forced a smile. “You hear right. Took a little jaunt over the border.”

  “Kansas. Hmm, wonder why? Not exactly a party kind of place.”

  Mason shrugged. “Never been, wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”

  Gabriel looked up and set his gaze firmly on Mason’s. “And did you?”

  “Did I what?”

  “Find out—what all the fuss is about?”

  Mason held the look for a while. Play nice. “Not really, no. Found some interesting landmarks, some old stuff to look at, but nothing of any value. Should have stayed put, I guess.”

  Gabriel blinked at him, sizing him up. “I guess so. Would’ve saved gas.”

  “And the environment, I suppose, in the process.”

  “Yes,” said Gabriel. “And that too.”

  Lauren’s eyes flickered and a moan passed her lips. She blinked and focused first on Gabriel. Then turned and smiled to Mason. “I’m … still here?”

  Mason reached over and clasped her hands in his, then placed a kiss on her forehead. “You can’t get away from me that easily.”

  Just then, his phone buzzed. He wasn’t going to take it, but then the ring came into join the vibration. Shelby’s ringtone, a sassy little urban electronic tune.

  “The whole family …” Lauren whispered, her lips dry. Gabriel understood and went to get her a glass of water from the bathroom sink.

  Mason accepted the Skype call and held the phone up so they could see each other.

  “Mom!” Shelby’s voice. “You look …”

  “She looks great,” Mason said, sliding his head into view, resting it on the pillow beside Lauren’s, after first glancing in her soft eyes and feeling the pull, feeling the incredible loss he would have experienced if those eyes had never opened again.

  “She does!” Shelby added. “Glad you’re up, Mom. And … no bad effects? Everything ok? I was so worried, no one was telling me anything!”

  “Sorry, sis.” Gabriel came out and set the glass in Lauren’s hand, helping it up to her lips. “I didn’t return your call, didn’t want to say anything until we knew for sure.”

  “So you let me assume the worst.”

  “Again, sorry.”

  “It’s all right, kids. No bickering.” Mason took the cup away after she had gulped down almost the entire thing.

  “When can she get out?” Shelby asked. “I want to come, want to stay with you and help out. This shouldn’t have happened!”

  “You’re needed in London,” Gabriel snapped back. “Just a little longer.”

  “Why?”

  “Yeah, what are you doing there, sweetie?” Mason glanced at Gabriel. In light of everything else he had just learned, now he wondered if Shelby was in danger. He had no idea what she was working on or what it involved. If it put her in danger, he would never forgive Solomon, or Gabriel.

  “Just some more weather research. Stuff about crops and early history and meteorological trends. Speaking of historical stuff, Mom said you got my paper? Did you get a chance to read it?”

  “I did,” Mason said, noting Gabriel narrowed his eyes at him. “Interesting stuff, honey. Well written. You should get a great grade.”

  “Hope so.”

  Mason smiled at Shelby. “And uh—about the other thing …”

  On the screen, Shelby held up a finger quickly, and gave a little shake of her head.

  “What other thing?” Gabriel leaned in to look at the screen.

  Mason tilted the screen so he could have Shelby’s full attention. “Just that I love you, and am so proud of you.” His mind whirled, thinking about the thumb drive. He had to let her know he didn’t open it, but wanted to if he could get the password. It must have been something she thought he would know if she had included it. Something personal.

  “Love you too, Dad. And all of you. Even you, brother, twin.”

  Gabriel smiled. “Back at you, glad you’re doing great and the cure worked. Finish what you’re working on and come home soon. You’re not going to want to miss what’s coming.”

  “And what is that?” Mason asked.

  “Big things,” Gabriel said with emotion in his voice, as if he had just solved world hunger. “We just heard.… Solstice won the contract with the WMO.”

  “Wow!” Lauren said.

  “Yes, it was unanimous.”

  Mason nodded. “So Solomon returns triumphant, and we’ll have access to the world’s databanks, servers and all the meteorological information we could ever want.”

  “And,” said Shelby, doing her best to feign excitement, “the weather satellites.”

  She let that hang out there, and Mason got the emphasis, if Gabriel didn’t. “Yes, those too, it’s a huge win. I actually have to step out for a second. Got a call about it, I’m sure.” Gabriel got up and went for the door, and Mason leaned in.

  Quietly he said, “Shelby, the other item in the package, the thumb drive … I know you didn’t want me to see it, but if it’s important …”

  She again held up a finger. “Not important, Dad.” She said it, but her head moved up and down, indicating the opposite. So she was concerned that thi
s communication wasn’t secure. Someone could be—or was—listening in. “Just some pictures of me on a hike, no biggie.” She shook her head. “Hey maybe if you’re bored, go take a look. I was embarrassed and not sure at first, but now … yeah, I need you to see it.”

  “Great.” Understood.

  Lauren looked from Shelby to Mason, and her eyes hardened. She knew something was up, but Mason ignored her. “Okay, honey. I may have trouble with it, you know me and those things. I never know how … to open them.”

  Shelby laughed, nodding. “You’ll do fine. Remember … when I was a kid? You always knew how to fix things. Like you did with that dollhouse of mine.” She let that hang out there. “You’ll do fine,” she repeated.

  Dollhouse … Mason thought back. Remembered the little plastic toy thing, a castle of sorts for her princesses. But he couldn’t remember if it was ever broken. Maybe that was the point …

  Shelby blew a kiss. “For you Mom, and one for you, Dad. Take care, and call me when you’re home!” She signed off.

  Mason put down the phone, and met Lauren’s eyes.

  “What was that about?” she asked pointedly.

  Holding up a finger, Mason stood and looked out into the hallway. He could see Gabriel standing there talking to someone. But not on the phone. Taking another step to the side, Mason could just make out the figure—an old man. Hunched over a bit, gray wispy hair barely covering his skull. His eyes hooded and pale. He shook Gabriel’s hand profusely and then patted his shoulder, turned and left.

  Mason cleared out of sight before Gabriel could turn around. He returned to Lauren’s side. “Quick, what was the name of Shelby’s dollhouse?”

  “What?”

  “Her toy thing—that plastic monstrosity we got her for one Christmas. She called it something.”

  “Oh, right. How could you forget? Her favorite movie you too used to watch together.”

  “Lord, how did I forget?” Here’s looking at you, kid.

  “Casablanca.”

  O O O

  After that, it was all Mason could do to hold back his impatience, to act interested in Gabriel’s questions and to pay attention to Lauren and see to her needs, when all he really wanted to do was get into his computer, insert the thumb drive and see what it was that had Shelby so excited—and scared.