by Megan Morgan
June stared at him in panic and confusion. Was he messing with her? Then after a drawn-out, tense silence, she recognized the sarcasm and found the answer. The words he wanted her to say, the ones he wanted to hear and the ones that, maybe, she believed now.
She tilted her face down to the microphone.
“I think,” June said, “there are some things that should remain ours.”
A slow smile spread across Sam’s face, an unnerving sight. Like a triumphant warrior, winning his long-fought battle at last. Or a serial killer.
Eric stepped up beside June. “Ms. Coffin…”
She ignored Eric and turned to Jason. “We’re leaving. Let’s go.”
Before Jason could stand, before anyone could react, a sharp bang sounded from the back of the room. Everyone looked around. Someone had slammed a door open. Two figures skirted the crowd, making their way toward the stage: Robbie, pulling Micha along beside him.
“What the hell?” June said.
Micha swayed on his feet, limp and unaware. Robbie glowered at Eric. He held a narrow curved blade, like the blade of a scythe but smaller, to Micha’s throat.
“You’re going to listen to me!” Robbie shouted. “Or he’s going to be my next victim, followed by them.” Robbie thrust the blade at June and at Jason behind her.
“My God,” Eric said. “Is that Micha Bellevue?”
June gaped at Robbie. This definitely wasn’t part of the plan.
“Focus those cameras on me.” Robbie reached the area in front of the stage and stopped. Sam's eyeballs looked like they were about to shoot out of his head.
Robbie placed the curved blade back to Micha’s throat, and a collective more-excited-than-horrified gasp went up. Reporters.
“I’m doing this for the benefit of all our kind,” Robbie announced. “Before it’s too late. I’m doing this for the Paranormal Alliance, Sam.”
“Mr. Haain,” Eric said. “Is this man part of your organization? Is this some sort of stunt for publicity?”
“He was part of my organization,” Sam said. “Until about ten seconds ago.”
“I’m doing this for us Sam, for you,” Robbie said. “While you’ve had your hands tied with politics and bureaucracy, I’ve been doing the dirty work. Someone had to.”
“I never told you to do anything.”
“I never needed you to.” Robbie stood tall and confident. “I did what you couldn’t do, Sam. I’m a soldier, and a soldier does what must be done for the good of the army. I know what you want, and I’m willing to act it out for you.”
“I never wanted to hold an activist hostage in front of a crowd of reporters.” Sam paused. “All right, I admit it’s a nice fantasy, but I would never do it.”
“Mr. Haain!” Eric stepped forward.
Robbie jerked around. The cameras followed his every move. “You stay right where you are,” Robbie told Eric.
“You do realize,” Eric said calmly, “you have a knife, and these security guards currently surrounding you have guns.”
Indeed, the guards previously looming over Sam had drawn their weapons and trained them on Robbie. Robbie didn't react. Suddenly, the guns flew from the guards’ hands, as if attached to strings someone had jerked. Gasps and excited yelps went up. A group of guards in the back of the room rushed forward and were abruptly, violently thrown backward, into walls, onto the floor, right into the crowd. The yelps became screams. People scattered.
“Go ahead!” Robbie yelled over the commotion. “Try to stop me again.”
“Robbie,” Sam said. “Why are you doing this?”
Muse stayed behind Sam, focused on Robbie.
Eric lifted his hands. “What is it you want? Talk to me. Don’t hurt anyone else.” He shot a sideways pleading look at June.
“I can’t do anything,” June said. “He’s deaf.”
“What do I want?” Robbie said. “What we all want. For paranormal people to be left alone. For corrupt normal-run, ‘scientific’ organizations to stop exploiting us. I can’t stop you myself, no matter how powerful my abilities are. But I can stop you from getting your hands on our secrets. That’s what I’ve been doing.” He seethed at Sam. “What I’ve been doing for you!”
“What are you talking about?” Sam asked.
Robbie smiled, with the perverse delight of a cruel, mentally twisted child. “I’ve been keeping their lab rats from them, Sam. Unfortunately, I couldn’t stop them from collecting the twins. Too much security. They’ve gotten smart to what I’m doing.”
Cold horror swept over her, at the same moment Sam appeared to get the gist as well.
“You’ve been killing paranormal people,” Sam said. “Killing us.”
“So they couldn’t use us!” Robbie said. “All this time they’ve blamed the SNC. It was the perfect cover. But I’m not letting them take my glory anymore. I want the world to know what I’ve accomplished. What I will accomplish.”
June thought of the story Sam told her at the pier about Missy Chase, the Siren who was murdered and thrown in a Dumpster. Apparently, her mysterious killer had been found. Sam looked miserably horrified.
“I knew it,” Sam said. “It was you at Kevin’s bar. I knew that wasn’t a bullet hole when I saw it. It was damage from a telekinetic blast. You were trying to kill June, but June wasn’t there.”
“I knew you’d figure it out eventually,” Robbie said. “I thought I saw June through the window.”
June flinched. She remembered something. “You saw Kevin.”
Robbie jerked his head around. June pictured Kevin wearing his leather jacket and recalled him saying he’d been outside right before the shooting took place, taking a delivery. Kevin would have had his jacket on if he was outside.
“You asshole,” June said. “You were trying to kill me?”
“I’m sorry,” Robbie said. “But believe me, it’s better that way.”
“Screw you!”
“The paranormal community does not belong to the normals.” Robbie swiveled back around to face the crowd. “We don’t want exposure. We don’t want what the Institute has to offer.”
“Not every paranormal person feels that way,” Eric said. “We’ve helped many.”
“Oh really?” Robbie snarled. “How are you helping them? By keeping them locked up? Doing terrible things to them? Science hurts, doesn’t it? Well it’s going to hurt you a lot more than it does us, very soon.”
“You crazy bastard.” Sam’s voice was tight with the strain of self-control. “Even if the Institute isn’t right, even if I hate them, there’s a whole spectrum of right and wrong and you can’t sit on one end and ride it like a fucking teeter-totter. I would never order violence against our kind as a means of thwarting the Institute!”
“This is our world, not theirs,” Robbie said. “We have to live by our rules.”
“Our rules don’t mandate cutting off your nose to spite your face.”
Robbie stared at him, eyes burning. He seemed stunned that Sam didn’t agree with him. Then his incredulity morphed into rage.
“You’re weak and spineless, Sam.” Robbie whirled around to face Eric, Micha wobbling at his side.
The movement seemed to shake Micha out of his stupor, and he tried to pull away.
“I have your activist, your dearest, most decorated supporter,” Robbie said. “And I’ll take more. I’ll take everyone who supports you! I’ll kill them all. If you want me to stop, you’re going to open your files to the public. The world is going to see what’s been going on inside your walls.”
“We have nothing to hide.” Eric remained calm. “You don’t have to kill anyone. We’ll give you whatever information you want.”
“Oh really?” Robbie sneered. He jerked his head at June. “Were you so kind to them? When you tried to kill them when they attempted to escape?”
“You’re delusional,” Eric said. “We’ve never harmed anyone.”
M
icha continued trying to pull away from Robbie. Robbie let go of him, and he collapsed in a heap at Robbie’s feet.
“You lied to me,” Micha slurred. He swiped at Robbie’s legs, but Robbie sidestepped him.
“You’re going to be exposed.” Robbie pointed his blade at Eric. “Everything you’ve done, every sin you’ve committed against us. And then I’m going to bleed you dry, in front of the whole city.”
Sam took a tentative step forward. “Robbie…”
Without looking at him, Robbie swung the blade around and pointed it at Sam. “You’ve proven yourself unworthy of my cause. I don’t need you anymore.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Sam said. “Your cause?”
John McKormic had his head lowered, murmuring into a cell phone. Sam looked up at June.
What the fuck should I do? June asked in her head, hoping Muse could hear her.
As if he had been the one to catch the question, Sam mouthed a single word: RUN.
In the next instant, Muse shot forward, a white streak, and snatched the blade from Robbie’s hand still extended toward Sam. As Robbie spun toward her, she swung the knife in an upward arc. A shink sounded and a shower of blood sprayed the floorboards like grisly rain. Robbie reeled and stumbled away, hands to his face, shrieking.
Screams erupted. People bolted for the doors. June dashed across the stage to Jason, grabbed his arm, and hauled him up. Jason lurched on his feet. The researchers were already in motion to try to stop them.
“Sit down and don’t move until we’re gone!” Her power rushed up her throat and made the air vibrate.
They all slammed back down in their seats.
She dragged Jason off the stage and made for the door to the hallway, trying to reach safety before the rush of panicked reporters hindered their escape. Jason was taller and weighed more than she, but June was determined—and pants-shittingly terrified—enough to pull him along as if he were a small child.
Most of the reporters didn’t possess the sense to get away from the building and were still trying to film and report outside. June wanted to run for the parking lot, but Jason was in no state to move fast.
“What did they do to you?” she asked him.
Before Jason could answer, an explosion erupted to their left. June lurched to the side, grabbing Jason and jerking him out of the way. People around them yelped as broken glass scattered on the snow. One of the security guards had been launched through a window and now lay quivering on the concrete walkway, covered in blood. Clearly, Robbie was still alive and on a rampage.
“Jesus Christ,” June gasped.
Muse appeared at June’s side and clutched her arm.
“Don’t just stand there,” Muse said. “Run!”
The three of them took off toward the parking lot. As June suspected, Jason couldn’t move fast, but thankfully no one seemed to be chasing them. June kept looking over her shoulder to make sure, holding Jason’s arm as they loped through the snow.
“Where are we going?” Jason asked, his voice hoarse.
“There’s a car waiting for us,” June said. “People we can trust are getting us out of here.”
“Oh my God.” Jason huffed for breath. “I can’t believe you’re here. I can’t believe you’re alive.”
She fought back tears. “I can’t believe you’re alive either.”
Muse was a couple steps ahead of them. “Save the sweet reunions for later. We’re not out of harm’s way yet.”
June clutched Jason’s arm, keeping him upright with all her strength.
They reached the fountain at the entrance of the park. The tunnel to the parking lot loomed ahead of them. June started to think they were actually going to escape. Her heart climbed into her throat.
As they passed the fountain, her exaltation was quickly, violently dashed.
A tall man dressed in black stepped abruptly into their path. A black rod protruded from his balled fist as he shot his arm out. He hit Jason square in the chest.
Jason crumpled, collapsing onto the pavement with an agonized scream. The attack was so sudden, June couldn’t react. She was nearly pulled to the ground as well, still holding on to his arm.
“You bastard!” June railed at the man.
June let go of Jason and lunged at the man, but as if they were falling from the sky, another one appeared and leapt on her.
The second man pushed her to the ground, slamming her down hard on her knees. Pain rattled up her thighs, and before she could yell, one of them jammed something into her mouth. She gagged as the hard object pushed past her teeth, hurting as the post of her tongue ring was crushed into the bottom of her mouth. She tried to scrabble for the gun at her hip, but her arms were jerked behind her. Jason was choking and sobbing and Muse was screaming. Someone had her, too.
They reached the parking lot, but not the way June hoped. She struggled as they dragged her through the tunnel, until one of the men gave her a subduing punch to the ribs. They moved across the lot, toward a black van where several more men stood. Jason coughed and groaned behind her. She didn’t hear Muse and assumed they had gagged her as well.
The back doors of the van opened. They hauled Jason inside first.
“Quit your fighting,” one of the men who had June restrained growled in her ear. “I ain’t afraid to kick your ass if you keep it up.”
June bit the gag, snarling. They would need to kick her ass if they wanted cooperation.
“Here he comes,” one of the men said.
June wrenched her head around to see whom they were talking about. A group of people crossed the lot toward them, fast and with purpose.
“Make sure you put them out,” a man’s voice called. “We don’t need any more incidents.”
Eric Greerson arrived at the van, followed by his researchers. He must have left the field house as fast as they did. June screamed around the gag and bucked against the men holding her, pain in her ribs be damned.
She recalled Rose’s words then, echoing in her head. Nothing is what it seems. Both sides have secrets.
“You know,” Eric said, hands tucked into the pockets of the long gray coat he now wore. He also wore sunglasses and a wide-brimmed fedora. “I figured when Sam started having his little tantrum, he knew where you were. That’s why I agreed to the press conference. I suspected he knew where Micha Bellevue was as well, and that was of even greater interest to me.” He turned away from June. “But you…you’re a big, brilliant bonus.”
June jerked her head around. Muse, indeed gagged, struggled against the tall, burly man who held her. Eric walked over, gripped her hair, and jerked her face back to look at him. She seethed around the gag.
“Aaron Jenkins’ daughter,” Eric said. “Yes, I know who you are. Sam Haain can’t keep secrets from me.”
June forgot to struggle. She tried to process this surprising revelation. Then Eric turned his attention back to her, releasing Muse’s hair, and June started fighting in earnest. The smugness in Eric’s expression foretold bad things.
“Put her out now,” Eric said. “She won’t be slipping off again.”
A man walked from the direction of the van. He had a syringe in his hand. June kicked at him as he approached.
“Stick her in the throat,” Eric said. “Don’t fool around.”
Someone grabbed June’s hair and wrenched her head painfully to the side. She could no longer struggle, so many people were holding her. The needle went in with a sharp stick. She screamed against the gag.
The men kept their grip. She was going to die, along with Jason and Muse. Eric looked on while his researchers dispersed behind him. June wanted to call him a bastard, a liar, but she couldn’t speak even if the gag hadn’t been in her mouth. Her body sagged and her vision blurred. Her mind went foggy. They heaved her into the van, before she slipped into darkness.
Chapter 14
June awoke with an aching body and a thick head. For a mom
ent, in her confused state, she thought she had a hangover. Then memories trickled in: the press conference; the guard flying through the window; Jason, Robbie, Eric Greerson. She opened her eyes.
She was lying on her back on a cold tile floor. Everything around her was silent, aside from a buzzing fluorescent light overhead. Her jacket had been removed, the chill from the floor seeping through her shirt—Micha’s shirt—and the gag, thankfully, had been removed. She reached down. Her gun had been taken away, but she wasn’t surprised.
After a moment of getting her wits about her, she lifted her head. The room spun. She squeezed her eyes shut, took a few deep breaths, and slowly opened them again and looked around.
She was in a small bare featureless room. A camera hung in one corner, up by the ceiling. Muse was propped against an adjacent wall to June’s left. She sat slumped, head hanging, hands limp in her lap. She had also been stripped of her coat. About ten feet away, Jason was on the floor, lying on his side, knees drawn up and arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were closed, but even in sleep—if he was asleep—he winced. The marks on his wrists were dark mottled red and purple rings.
“Where are we?” June’s voice was hoarse and her jaw hurt. She propped herself up on one elbow, the ache in her ribs making the movement painful. The room spun again. She closed her eyes and waited for the vertigo to pass. Her hands were shaky and clammy from lack of nicotine, adding to her total unpleasant physical state. When her head stopped spinning, she opened her eyes again.
“Jason,” she whispered. Her mouth was dry and tasted metallic.
Jason didn’t stir.
“Jason!”
He opened his eyes, expression still pained, his brow knitted. He blinked a few times, shifted, and grimaced.
“Are you all right?” she asked. “Do you know where we are?”
“No.” His voice was small and weak.
She wasn’t sure which question he’d answered. Maybe both.
June tried to scoot toward him, but her strength was diminished. “What did they do to you, Jason? What happened to you?”
“They’re watching us,” Muse murmured.