I heard someone acknowledge me but I paid little attention. I was already on my way back down the corridor where I’d heard Scott’s voice only a minute earlier. I pushed aside the first barricade, a desk turned on its side, and started picking my way around the obstacles in the way. “You okay in there?” I asked as I vaulted over an upturned table, its four legs jutting into the air. Bodies of mercenaries were littered through the debris, as if they’d gotten turned back on at least one advance down the hall. I took a breath. That defeat had made my job easier.
Then I came to the first body that wasn’t a mercenary. Men from our security detail had died back in the foyer, I’d seen their corpses, but here, lying against an overturned chair, was one of the clerks from Omega whom I’d brought over from England. I remembered his face but not his name, recalled that he’d stood with me in the last fight against Weissman and Raymond over in London. His eyes stared straight ahead now, whatever had been behind them long gone. I knelt down and closed them for him, and saw another familiar body just past him.
This one was another from the battle in London. She was older, in her late fifties by human years, and I thought her name was Rochelle. I remembered it because it was so distinctive. Her neck was covered in blood and her body was still, head pitched to the side at an awkward angle. I reached out to touch her; she was still lukewarm but far colder than a living human being would have been.
“Scott?” I called out again as I stood, my legs feeling like they were going to buckle under me.
“Yeah,” came the weary voice from ahead. Why wasn’t he coming to me? Why wasn’t he leading them out, whoever was left? I started toward him, climbing over a couch that had been ripped apart by bullets, and on the other side I found three more bodies of our own—a security man who’d died with a gun in his hand, a meta from England whose name I couldn’t recall, and another, a girl, whose name was Athena.
I sagged next to Athena and let my fingers touch my face as I dropped my weapon. The smell of gunpowder and spent rounds was heavy in the hallway, and as my face sunk into my hands I smelled it on me, like the scent of death, strong in my nose. I reached over and touched Athena’s face, the black powder smudges on my fingers rubbing off on her skin. I’d recruited her to join Omega, and now her lifeless brown eyes stared back at me from the floor. She’d been shot in the back while trying to run away, here in this place where I couldn’t protect her. Even though I’d told her and all the others to come here, told them to leave London and come here to die, so far from home—
I felt a little noise of horror escape me and clamped a hand over my mouth as I settled back on my haunches, sitting down in a pool of wet blood. I didn’t even know whose it was. I didn’t care. I stared at Athena’s lifeless body and tried to process it all, tried to fight back the horror.
“Sienna?” Scott’s voice came from down the hall in the direction I had been heading only a moment earlier. “Sienna, are you all right?”
I pulled myself together in an instant, pushing aside the shock, the horror, pretending there was a hole somewhere deep in my soul and I could dump everything down into it. This was no time for tears; there were others waiting for me on the other side of the barricade, the last barricade from the sound of Scott’s voice. “I’m coming,” I said. “I’ll be right there.”
I stood on unsteady legs, shuffling with as careful a balance as I could, dodging around the last overturned desk. I could see the recreation room behind it, full of metas, the survivors of our little band. There were far more of them than there were of the dead, I knew that much, and I felt a rush of gratitude. I let out a weary sigh, mixed with more than a little relief to see so many still standing, peering out into the hallway, looking at the spot behind the desk—
I came around the desk to find Scott just sitting there, his back against it, his face red and shot through with emotion. I started to say something but stopped myself just in time. There were little sobs coming from the recreation room, the sounds of mourning and fear, and as much as I wanted to reassure them, I couldn’t when I saw what they were weeping about.
There was another body next to Scott, a man whose face was at peace in spite of the angry red wound in the middle of his forehead. He wore a slightly upturned smile—just a hint—under his waxed mustache. His once-lively eyes were now staring off into the distance, and his distinctive cologne had been overcome by the heavy odor of gunpowder that still lingered in the air. The sobs of the survivors drowned out any other noises, and my knees gave out and I fell to his side. He did not respond even as I shook him, Breandan’s head lolling around with the motion of his body as I tried desperately, desperately, to shake back to life a man whose luck had finally run out.
Chapter 29
Jon Traeger
Lake Superior
November 10, 1975
They nicknamed the ship the Mighty Fitz. He’d barely made it on board; just in time, really. The wind was howling and the squall was pitching the sides of the massive freighter he’d found passage on at the last moment. They didn’t normally take passengers, even though they had two cabins for it, but a lot of money had changed hands and the deal was done just moments before the Fitzgerald left port. It was worth it for Jon to get her out of here, to get her away from the Midwest.
“We’re safe now,” Jon said to the woman who sat a little distance away from him. He’d been reassuring her since they’d gotten on board, but it didn’t seem to be having much effect. Not that he could blame her.
Her name was Elizabeth, and she was huddled against the chill that was seeping into the passenger cabin. The steady wash of the water against the sides of the ship was getting more dramatic as the hours passed, and the freighter was listing to the side. They’d been awakened in the early hours of the morning and been unable to get back to sleep. The storm seemed to have worsened. A couple of hours earlier when Jon had tried to talk to the captain, the man had ordered them to stay off the deck.
She shook her head, her dark hair and smeared makeup distinctive. “I don’t know that we’ll ever be safe. Not from him.”
Traeger felt the swell of uncertainty as he stared at the walls of the freighter’s cabin. There was a drape covering the porthole, and every few minutes he’d find himself pacing the deep-pile carpeting to pull it back and look out into the darkness, where the rain and waves lashed at the ship. “He’s not invincible. He’s not infallible. We lost him in Duluth, before we crossed the Wisconsin line, simple as that. You’re free now.” He sank down to the bed as the ship rocked to the side again, almost throwing him against the wall. “He can’t hurt you now.”
She swallowed so heavily he could hear the gulp! over the sound of the storm outside. “I don’t think he wanted to hurt me, exactly.”
Traeger could smell the oily residue of the ship’s reprocessed air. “No? Why do you think he wanted you?”
She started to answer when a grinding thud and the squeal of metal cut her off. A shudder louder than any the storm had produced ran through the ship. Elizabeth’s eyes went wide, and she jumped for the bundle on the bed next to her, laid out asleep. Jon moved for them both, protectively, as another grunt of stressed metal echoed through the whole ship and the world pitched on them, turning sideways, the hardest list of the ship yet.
“He’s found us.” Her voice was low, filled with quiet desperation as she clutched the bundle in her arms. It was long enough that it ran across her body, legs sticking out the side, oblivious to the commotion taking place around her. Jon threw his arms around them, grasping Elizabeth and the child in a tight embrace.
“Impossible,” Jon said, almost under his breath. The sound had stopped, just for a moment. “We left port over a day ago. No one could track us like this. No meta could find us over open water like—”
The hatch to the cabin opened with a slow, grinding squeak, the mechanism squealing as it turned, in desperate need of oil. Jon stared at it in a kind of fixed horror, trying to figure out his next move. Can I fly the
m out? The girl, maybe, but not both, he realized grimly. Not in this storm.
Jon looked down at the bundle in the woman’s arms. It squirmed, a little girl, eight years old, looking up at him with wide eyes, still blinking from her sudden awakening.
“Shhhh,” he whispered, and the door creaked again, squealing the lock open the last little bit, popping as it swung wide. The ship was still listing, the waves rocking it in the waters of Lake Superior.
The door swung open, framing a figure silhouetted in the light coming from the corridor outside. There was a shadow at first and that was all, a great silhouette dripping rain onto the carpeting, and then the man took a step over the lip of the hatch threshold, and shut it behind him, turning the heavy wheel to crank it shut. Once it was closed he stepped away, and Jon could see him wearing a coat that was soaked through, black, and boots that oozed water when he took a step. Did he fly all the way out to us from Duluth? That’s a long flight, even for a—
“Hello, there,” the man said, breaking his silence. “I’ve been looking for you, Elizabeth.”
Jon felt iron descend down his back bone, and he stood, ramrod straight. “She doesn’t want to go with you.” He protectively an arm out.
“She doesn’t know what she wants yet,” the man said, staring at Jon with slight mirth in his eyes. “She’s been running from me because of legends that have no basis in reality. I don’t want to hurt her. I’m not here to cause trouble—”
“Then what did you do to the ship?” Jon asked, staring him down. “Because it sounds like you may have caused some trouble.”
“I didn’t do anything to the ship. Yet,” the man said. There was a little hint of darkness in his eyes now, menace and malice. “I have no interest in fighting with either of you. I just want an opportunity to talk with her.”
“You’ve picked an awkward way to go about it,” Jon said. “Chasing her down. You can’t just let her go?”
The man hesitated at that. “I wouldn’t have preferred it this way. I’m a man who doesn’t want ... well, anything, most of the time, honestly. But ... I need to talk to her. I’ve been looking for her for a long time—”
“Hence the reason she’s running,” Jon said. “Not usually a good sign when a man of your reputation is hunting someone down. Tends to be a little ominous.”
The man laughed humorlessly. “What do you know about me?”
“You’re Sovereign,” Jon said without hesitation. “Not just a local legend, but it seems like you’ve spent more than your fair share of time in the Midwest for the last few hundred years.”
The man smirked. “What can I say? I like the Nordic people, and I’m a sucker for a good hotdish.”
“You’ve killed a lot of metas,” Jon went on, “and more than a few humans.”
“Dangerous ones,” Sovereign said darkly. “Ones that were extorting their fellow man, taking advantage. What about you, Jon Traeger?” Jon bristled at the mention of his own name. “You’ve got a little bit of a reputation, too. Working for Alpha, crisscrossing the world, looking to solve other peoples’ problems, even when they haven’t asked—”
“Usually those problems involve Omega,” Jon said, “and let’s face it, when it comes to dealing with them, most folks don’t know there’s any other option.”
Sovereign smiled. He didn’t look terribly sinister, Jon had to admit. “So you’re watching out for your fellow human beings, guarding them against the dangerous and criminal brotherhood of Omega.”
“It’s a sisterhood, too,” Jon said. “Just ... you know, in the name of equality.”
“Right,” Sovereign said. “So here you are, protecting a girl from a dangerous threat.”
“Potentially the most dangerous,” Jon said, staring back at Sovereign. “According to what I’ve heard, at least.”
“‘What you’ve heard’?” Sovereign’s bleak amusement filled the cabin. “Do you find there’s typically a lot of truth in rumors?”
“A grain,” Jon replied. “Enough to concern me.”
“Let me put you at ease,” Sovereign said. “I’m not taking the girl without her permission. I’ve been seeking her out—”
“That much is plain,” Jon said.
Sovereign smiled. “I need to talk to her.”
Jon stared back at him. “So talk.” He looked back at Elizabeth. “She’s listening.”
Sovereign stood quietly for a moment as the little girl quivered wordlessly in her mother’s arms, and a look of discomfort came across his face. “Look, I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, but I’ve not been after you to hurt you in any way.” He laughed nervously, surprising Jon. A man this powerful gets nervous? “I mean, we haven’t even had a chance to meet face to face until now. I don’t know why you were so afraid of me—”
“Because I have a child, sir,” she said, staring at him, the little girl clutched across her chest, a blanket separating them, wrapping the little girl up wholly so that she looked like a waif. “And when a powerful man starts inquiring about you, trying to find you, track you down, if you’re in my position you don’t wait to find out his intention.” She looked away. “I know the intentions of most men—”
“I promise you, mine are different,” Sovereign said.
“Yeah, well, it hasn’t worked out so well with any of them,” she said bitterly.
“It would be different with me,” Sovereign said, “because I’m different.” He took a step forward and Jon held out a hand to stay him. “Put your hand down before you hurt someone,” Sovereign said.
Jon shook his head. “Just keep your distance until she asks you to get closer.”
Sovereign’s face reddened. “I’m not here to hurt her.”
“Fair enough,” Jon said calmly, “then you won’t mind keeping your distance, will you?”
Sovereign’s nostrils flared. “You’re a creature of the wind, are you not?”
Jon stared at him levelly. Looks like this is about to turn hostile. “I’m an Aeolus, yes.”
“Let’s call you what you are,” Sovereign said. “A Windkeeper. A creature of the wind.” His face darkened. “And all that’s left of you when I’m finished with you will be able to float away on the wind, so don’t tell me what to do. I don’t take kindly to being interfered with.”
Jon stared at him, felt the fury and fear rise in equal measure in his gullet. This isn’t going to get any prettier by waiting. He’ll kill me in an instant. He closed his eyes, took a breath, and hurled a burst of wind so hard that the man called Sovereign was flung bodily into the wall.
“Let’s go!” Jon shouted, grabbing for Elizabeth’s arm. He caught her by the wrist and she ran with him, unbattening the hatch and slamming it behind them, leaving Sovereign behind, shaking his head from where it had struck the bulkhead. A little bit of blood was visible on the man’s face in the flickering light of the Edmund Fitzgerald’s passenger cabin as Jon slammed the door and cranked the wheel to batten it shut.
Jon’s feet pounded as Elizabeth followed, the child in her arms. The little girl was crying, but the sound was barely audible as they crossed metal stairs toward the deck. Out into the storm. I can carry us in the storm, maybe lose him in the clouds ... with wind drifts like these, even the woman and child might not be too much for me to carry ... Just have to harness it, tame it.
They burst onto the deck as a wave crashed over the bow and the ship tilted. Jon felt his balance tested, but he caught himself on the side of the conning tower, holding Elizabeth steady along with him. The night was dark, the driving rain highlighted in the deck lamps, coming in nearly sideways and frigid cold as they steadied themselves between waves. “Hold tight to me!” he shouted as the world started to list again.
There was a grinding of metal once more, and something burst in the middle of the ship. The deck peeled back and Jon saw it split, the forecastle of the ship breaking off from the strength of the impact. He adjusted to grab for Elizabeth but failed, snagging the little girl’s blanket
instead.
Elizabeth let out a cry as the deck pitched, a wave crashing over the side with such force that the whole thing shuddered, and Jon watched as the Edmund Fitzgerald was snapped in half, the damage done beneath the deck compounded and revealed by the strength of the waves. He grabbed hold of a recess in the conning tower, feeling every tendon in his shoulder yanked tight by the sudden drop of his entire body, the shift in gravity as the ship dipped, sinking into the waves.
It happened so fast he barely knew it. He found himself hanging on vertically, the girl’s blanket bunched tightly in his fist, and he watched as Elizabeth dropped away into the water beneath him, screaming as she fell into the frothy, roiling surface of the lake. He cried out, shouting into the storm, and felt the conning tower of the Fitzgerald pitch forward, tilting over with the strength of the waves. He jerked the blanket upward, snugging the child into his arms and letting the sodden, wet mess of it fall away as he clutched her tight to him. As another wave came at them, he realized that if he didn’t leave now, he would surely be carried down with the wreckage of the Fitzgerald, and Elizabeth, down to the bottom of the lake.
He started the wind with his free hand, a tornado that carried them up, him and the little girl, whose cries were lost in the screaming of the gale. They broke the clouds after a few minutes of turbulent upthrust, and he held her, cold, wet and sobbing against his chest as he flew them into the night, toward a shore that was somewhere in the distance.
They reached land less than an hour later, but by then Jon’s arm had grown numb and weary from carrying the girl crooked in it, his skin cold from the frigid storm. As his feet set down gently upon the shores of Lake Superior, Jon Traeger looked down at the girl, now sleeping in his arms, and let out a sigh.
Legacy: The Girl in the Box #8 Page 19