Titan Song

by Leonard Petracci

  “They didn’t hire the best for that,” the man retorted, and Slugger laughed.

  “The best? The best? You’re all they’ve got? Oi, we have it too easy, then.” He stepped forwards, preparing to start unstrapping the girl but took a moment to pull the dough away from her face.

  “Apologies for that, lass,” Slugger said, and through his eyes, I could see her face warped by his own mind. Large blue eyes, scared, with dough splotches still clinging to pale cheeks. Bangs that seemed to cover far too much of the face, and teeth that seemed too small. Distorted through his own perception beyond recognition.

  But as Slugger moved to free her, the man’s hands flew to his harness in a motion too sudden to stop.

  “The best, because I’ve never missed a delivery,” the man hissed, and pulled at two straps simultaneously. With a click, the harness released from around his waist, and he blasted air in front of him in his strongest torrent yet, aiming out and up. The wind caught the kites, and now that they were detached from the coat, they leapt upwards in a race to the sky in a blur.

  I heard the scream from both Slugger’s ears and my own as the cords dragged the girl high up and away, where she blended in with the night. On the rooftop, the man cackled in laughter, his eyes towards the intersection a few streets up. The girl sailed in a struggling arc, disappearing behind buildings as the wind carried her, the kites now acting like parachutes.

  “Package delivered,” he sneered, just as Arial recovered from the blast and took off in the direction of the girl. She darted through the air, searching for the falling form, but without the head start was too late. I shouted as I saw the bundle alight down at the center of the ahead intersection, rolling to a stop right at the median, and in an instant, a sedan pulled up next to her, the door flying open as hands hauled her inside. My teeth gritted as I saw a flash of a knife cut her loose, slashing through the cords as if they were silly string. Then the car was gone, blending in with the hundreds of others that wove in and out of the city streets.

  At a sprint, it was a full thirty more seconds before I arrived to find Arial at the scene, her hands holding the kites where they had been left in the road. My eyes darted left and right, but there were already four cars that matched the description of the one I had seen—and that was just within fifty feet.

  “Did she at least land soft?” Arial asked, tears filling her eyes as she crumpled the kites. “I let them take her.”

  “They’re not gone yet,” I said, putting my hand on her shoulder and meeting her eyes, and covering a splotch of blood on the pavement with my foot. “There’s still hope. And we have a lead. The kidnapper will talk. But now I need you in the air. Look for any sort of clues!”

  Then I turned my attention back upwards to the rooftop, where Slugger’s wrath pinned the man down with the force of an anvil on each limb. Arial leapt into the air, circling wider and wider in a search I knew would prove fruitless but was better than waiting on the ground. In my mind, Roland announced that the force were nearly at the top of the building where Slugger waited.

  “And as much as I hate to say it,” I muttered to myself, “there’s another police contractor we can use.”

  Chapter 13

  "Emma, fetch our guest some tea,” said Arial's mother as she rushed to lay down towels. “We'll get you right fixed up. Aren’t you a mess! Be mindful, watch the carpet, the carpet!"

  Only ten minutes had passed since we'd left the intersection, spent with Arial lifting me up and above the city, soaring above the shops and threading through the skyscrapers. As usual, my stomach lurched with each turn, and I felt a slight tingling when she lifted me and my own body weight diminished. A feeling, I realized with a slight frown, akin to how Slugger's fingers had felt through Roland's connection. The same feeling.

  Underneath us, the cityscape gradually turned to neighborhood streets, and we alighted in one with taller stories and brighter bricks than the rest, where the yards competed to be the most lush and the cars to show the brightest sheen. The children’s playsets alone were as big as my old apartment, and the only aspect that reminded me of my new home was the storm drains—but even those appeared cleaner here, as if they were scrubbed. We strode past these and up a drive, and moments later, we were inside Arial’s house, her mother was ushering us into the living room, and I locked eyes with her father on his throne of the couch.

  The stare pinned me down, his pupils a weight, the grey streaks in his otherwise dark hair amplifying the intensity. In that moment, my powers were stripped away, my strength crippled, my deeds over the past year eliminated. And despite my ability to crush him with a single black orb, it seemed as if he could brush me aside with a flick of his finger. He spoke, his voice low and steady, his hands on gripping the arms of his chair.

  “We had a truce,” he said, and other than the motion of his jaw, he remained perfectly still. “And yet, here you are, in my household. An act of aggression. Do you remember how that ended for both of us last time?”

  He reached upwards and pulled out a single grey hair, dropping it on the coffee table. A reminder of the years of life he had lost when Arial’s mother saved her daughter, giving up her own life force in the act. I clenched my jaw, then squared my shoulders, drawing in a breath and rebuilding my composure.

  “We still have a truce,” I stated. “And I came here for your help. We should be in this together.”

  “My help? And you think you can afford my services?” His gaze dropped, running over my clothes like an iron, but doing nothing to remove the wrinkles that seemed embedded into the fabric. “Do you have any idea how much I cost, boy?”

  “Consider it a favor,” I said, then spoke quickly as I saw the scoff flash over his face. “The very same people that once kidnapped Arial—they’ve done it again. They’ve stolen someone else. Except this time, it’s worse. We don’t know where they’ve gone or what happened to them. We think they’re injured and need help.”

  “The person who kidnapped my daughter is locked away for eternity, and should she ever leave, I would find her in a heartbeat,” he sneered, steepling his fingers. “I refuse to become involved with criminals, even if it means defying other criminals.”

  “There’s more of them than just Siri. You know that she wasn’t operating alone, even if you want to pretend it,” I said, though his expression remained hard, and he stayed immobile. Over his shoulder, I could see the desk at the corner of the room—one filled with framed pictures, kept clean of any dust, with not even a smudge across the glass. In one was a Flamethrower that spewed a rainbow of colors from his fingertips, in another was a woman clutching what appeared to be a small star in her palm. A third showed a boy halfway in transition to becoming a falcon, the feathers sprouting out of his forearms as the bones twisted themselves into wings. More images clustered there, showcasing powers and their wielders in action, prompting my memory from the first time I had met Arial’s father.

  “You know who else they like to meddle with?” I asked, leaning forwards and throwing out the bait. “Rare powers. The absolute rarest. Some, maybe, that no one has ever seen.”

  I held my hand out and summoned a dark orb, letting it hover there in the space between us. Arial’s father’s eyes widened, but he set his jaw, looking past the orb as if it didn’t exist. But I could see the strain gathering as he resisted, and I drew out a beam of light from the center as I spoke, letting it play across the carpet, luring him in.

  “They keep them hidden, the rarest ones. Usually, they have some plan for them. I know this because they did for me. But imagine, if we were to break them up, just what you might find. Surely a new discovery, likely multiple.”

  “You’re assuming that I couldn’t simply find them on my own,” replied her father. “Do tell, if they were just waiting for me in the city, why I wouldn’t have found them yet?”

  “Because you don’t have their power signature,” I said. “I know you need that to work. For you to find me, you had to sense me first.
You’ll need a beacon. This.”

  From my pocket, I pulled the mass of pizza dough that had covered Amelia’s face, the outer edge now covered in a layer of lint, and tossed it onto the coffee table. It stuck, flattening on the red wood, and completely absorbing a pile of coasters as it oozed over them.

  “I need powers, not trash,” replied The Hunter, looking ready to throw out the mass. “Something they directly affected. Not merely an article that they have touched.”

  “And it’s right there,” I said, gesturing. “Our missing friend is a Silver Tongue, and she screamed into that dough for several minutes. That’s probably the best representation of her power possible.”

  Standing, and taking care to avoid the dark orb still floating between us, the Hunter placed a hand over the dough. He closed his fingers into a fist, then nodded.

  “It will suffice,” he stated. “Should the power be used again in the city, I’ll know. If she’s gone or unable to use—then she’s invisible to me. At present, that’s her status, and I doubt it shall change.”

  “But if it does, I’m the first to know,” I said. “Send Arial.”

  “No such thing will occur,” he snapped, whipping towards me. “My daughter will absolutely not be traipsing around with the likes of you. Not now, not—” He stopped, then looked at Arial, judging the condition of her clothes as he had done mine. “Not the past,” he growled, lip curling. “Absolutely no involvement whatsoever. None. She’s to stay as far away from her captors as possible.”

  “But, Father,” interjected Arial, stepping forwards. “They need our help. My help. We almost stopped it today, we came so close—but I, I let them get away.”

  “You what!” he shouted, advancing towards me while his voice barraged her. “You pursued a criminal? Do you know what they are capable of? The things I’ve seen on these streets, and my daughter is being exposed to them?”

  From beside the fireplace, his hand closed around the cast iron poker, raising it towards me. In a flash, Arial was at my side, and her hand closed around mine, the fingers tight.

  “You don’t know him!” Arial shouted as he tried to dance around her. “And I decided to go on my own. He didn’t make me—maybe if you paid attention more, you’d notice things like that.”

  But her father’s eyes were already drawn to our clasped hands, and his face turned red as he brandished the poker again, his voice dropping in volume.

  “My daughter,” he hissed. “My daughter, my family, my household, and my rules. Leave, and if you ever come back—know I will skewer you as you sleep, when you least expect it, and somewhere where you will be slow to die. Out!”

  Chapter 14

  “Olef wouldn’t even answer the door,” said Lucio, his face downcast. “I even tried to smell him out.”

  “Smell him out?” asked Slugger, gagging and covering his nose. “The hell is that supposed to mean, you bug bombin him?”

  Three hours had passed since the kidnapping. Lucio had just arrived back to the subway, and true to his word, he reeked. Splotches covered his hands, stains over the front of his shirt, and a frustrated scowl sprawled over the front of his face. Moments before he joined us at the table, Slugger and I pushed ourselves back, leaving only Ennia unperturbed next to him. She raised an eyebrow so pale it was nearly invisible before drawing in a sniff, and blinked twice before resuming the drawing she had on the table, her fingers making long marks with charcoal. Ten minutes before, my mother had retired to bed, with a warning that we should soon follow. As soon as she had disappeared, Ennia led Lilac across the floor with a carrot, her finger on her lips, back to the teleportation machine so the tiger could spend the night foraging for food in the Amazon.

  “Smells like life to me.” Ennia shrugged as she shaded in a region between two lines. Squinting, I could just see the upside down outline of what resembled a heart, complete with arteries and veins flowing to and from the chambers, and annotated in neat script arranged in tight footnotes.

  “Well, it’s all dead now,” Lucio stated, holding up his hands. “I started up with some garlic, mashed that under the door. Mixed that with some daisy petals I found outside, then a few stinkbugs. Threw in some spray deodorant too. Since that didn’t flush him out, neither will anything else.”

  “Are you trying to make the bloke hate us?” asked Slugger. “You ever try just knockin? The hell is wrong with you?”

  “Well, yeah, I did that first, but he didn’t answer,” Lucio said. “And you did say this was urgent, so I got creative.”

  “It was urgent.” I sighed, my face in my hands. “Did you ever check to see if he was actually home? Did you hear him inside?”

  “I mean, I heard his rat,” Lucio said, and I shook my head with exasperation as Slugger broke out cackling.

  “Oi, he’ll be in for a nasty surprise when he gets back! If he ever works for us again, Lucio, I’ll eat your socks.” Then Slugger turned to me, his voice turning more serious. “What about the Mr. Jackass alternative?”

  “No luck,” I said, gritting my teeth and gnashing my knuckles against the table’s edge. “He’s even less likely to come to our aid. Point is, we were on the job for five minutes and failed.”

  “Not completely, lad,” said Slugger, and gripped my shoulder. “Aye, we didn’t save the girl. I’m not pretending that we did, or we won. But we got one of the baddies, eh? Roland had him all wrapped up in cuffs when I left. Maybe they’ll cut him a deal so he’ll talk. If he’s low enough down the ladder, he’ll squeal.”

  “The type of person to complete a job even after he knows he’s captured won’t talk. He’s either scared of his bosses or dedicated,” I responded, chewing at the side of my cheek. “Probably both.”

  “And he’s off the streets because of us,” said Slugger, then took the full glass of water he had in front of him and poured half of it on the table, the splash making us jump backwards. “Sure, we made a mess. Some spilled. But hey, half of the job is done. Half of the water is in the glass. Don’t ye be forgetting about that. Besides, Roland wants a full download tomorrow, to see if we missed any clues. Maybe we’ll get a crack at our airhead then.”

  With a huff, Ennia stood up from the table, shaking off her drawing from where the water had soaked into the corner of the paper.

  “A warning would suffice before your next demonstration,” she snapped, trying to dry it off against her shirt. “You’ve practically ruined it!”

  “So sorry, Miss,” said Slugger, sarcasm deep in his voice. “But while you were playin with that grand ol coloring book, we’ve been trying to solve some real issues.”

  “Because my work isn’t important?” she shot back. “Do you have any idea what this is? Stuck in your little world with your little problems.”

  “I wouldn’t call a kidnapping a little problem,” I said as Slugger bristled. “Sounds more like a big problem. What do you think is so much more important?”

  “Temporary problem. This is a design of a human heart I’ve been working on, with two additional chambers to serve as backups for those with respiratory issues. Do you have any idea how many lives that could save? And now it’s wet.”

  “And what, exactly, has that to do with our little situation?” Slugger pressed.

  “This one, nothing,” Ennia admitted. “But your problem isn’t the only one to exist. At university, we strive to solve a plethora of issues.”

  “If you’ll be working with us, we need you to be focused,” I said, and closed my eyes, trying to think. “So that’s all of our leads, dead. No idea where they travelled after picking her up. No idea where to search next. Damn.”

  “What about the news?” suggested Ennia. “Surely someone should be reporting in on this. If the scale is this large, they won’t be keeping it a secret for long.”

  “Roland seemed to think it was hushed up, but we should check too,” I said, but as the table remained quiet and devoid of other suggestions, I turned to the television and flicked it on. And for the remaining
hour that night, we sat there and watched. As I shifted, every time my thoughts went back to the blood stain in the middle of the intersection. On screen, the reported spoke rapidly into a microphone, as winds and a torrent of rain buffeted her left and right.

  “A class four hurricane, all evacuations completing here on the coast,” she said, practically screaming into the camera from a thousand miles away. “Completely unprepared this time of year, sooner than residents expect and only gaining in force. Flooding expected to occur. Prepare for the worst!”

  We hadn’t been prepared enough, I thought, as the screen changed and another reporter appeared, a young man with a snub nose, tight sports jacket, and impeccable hair.

  “And against all predictions, Ironhooves has won the derby!” he announced, turning behind him to where a jockey rode a horse trotting up to him with a coat sleek with sweat. “Join us at eleven for details on how she traveled from dead last to first! And our interview with one lucky better, who earned one twelve to one odds, and plans to purchase not one but two yachts with his winnings!”

  We hadn’t been serious enough. We’d underestimated the enemy. I bit the inside of my cheek, half as a punishment and half to push away weariness, as the screen flickered again to reveal a congress floor.

  “Tensions rising so high today, a fistfight broke out between two senators, then spread throughout the floor, involving even security! Fights breaking out across the capital, as aides even a mile away were caught up in violence,” a man so old that he looked ready to drop dead announced. “Nothing like this since the recession thirty years ago, when the last brawl occurred. At moments when international tensions run high, internal cooperation is a must, and such omens bode poorly for the future. Our allies plead for help, and armies overseas continue increasing in numbers and abilities. Is this how we choose to react? With discord?”

  Next time, we would win. Next time, we wouldn’t make a mess. Next time, they wouldn't gain an ounce of traction. I decided, folding my arms across my chest. But as we continued to watch, no mention of Silver Tongues occurred, and the gloom of the news cycle only solidified the silence until we prepared for bed.